Her meditation was not revery, but thought; not thoughts of the past, but of the present.

There was something precise and positive in the rapid, intelligent glance which flashed from her eyes when she raised them; it was as if she had a lucid foresight of an approaching drama.
A moment after she had passed over the wooden bridge which led from the avenue, a man wearing a blouse crossed it and followed her.

Hearing the sound of hurried steps behind her, she turned and saw, not two steps from her, the stranger who, during the storm, had vainly tried to attract her attention.

There was a moment's silence.

The young man stood motionless, trying to catch his breath, which had been hurried, either by emotion or rapid walking.