And I hear again the unexpected sound of her voice.
But I still kept on jumping.

Like those tiny foolish moths which of an evening revolve about the light of a lamp, I went around in the luminous circle which widened and retracted, ever taking form from the wavering light of the flames.

And I remember all of this so vividly that my eyes can still see the smallest details of the texture of the carpet which was the scene of the event.

It was of durable stuff called home-spun, woven in the country by native weavers.

(Our house was still furnished as it had been in my maternal grandmother's time, as she had arranged it after she had quitted the Island, and come to the mainland .-- A little later I will speak of this Island which had already a mysterious attraction for my youthful imagination .-- It was a simple country house, notable for its Huguenot austerity; and it was a home where immaculate cleanliness and extreme order were the sole luxuries.) In the circle of light, which grew ever more and more narrow, I still jumped; but as I did so I had thoughts that were of an intensity not habitual with me.