'His totem is the wolf,' she repeated to herself.

'His mother is an old, unbroken wolf.' And then she experienced a keen paroxyism, a transport, as if she had made some incredible discovery, known to nobody else on earth.

A strange transport took possession of her, all her veins were in a paroxysm of violent sensation.

'Good God!' she exclaimed to herself, 'what is this ?' And then, a moment after, she was saying assuredly, 'I shall know more of that man.' She was tortured with desire to see him again, a nostalgia, a necessity to see him again, to make sure it was not all a mistake, that she was not deluding herself, that she really felt this strange and overwhelming sensation on his account, this knowledge of him in her essence, this powerful apprehension of him.

'Am I REALLY singled out for him in some way, is there really some pale gold, arctic light that envelopes only us two ?' she asked herself.