When her embroidery gave her mind a moment's leisure, she was astonished not to see Felicien.
Although she took no step towards seeking him, it seemed to her that he ought to have tried every possible way to come to her.

Yet she approved of his wisdom in acting as he did, and would have scolded him had he tried to hasten matters.

No doubt he also looked for something supernatural to happen.

It was this expectation upon which she now lived, thinking each night that it would certainly come on the morrow.
Until now she had never rebelled.

Still, at times she lifted up her head inquiringly, as if asking "What! Has nothing yet come to pass ?" And then she pricked her finger so deeply that her hand bled, and she was obliged to take the pincers to draw the needle out.