Was it this mass of whiteness that kept her back?
She had always adored white, even to such a degree as to collect bits of silk and revel over them in secret.
"One moment, just one moment more, and we will go away, my dear Seigneur." But she did not even make an effort to rise.

Very anxious, he again knelt before her.
"Are you suffering, my dear?
Cannot I do something to make you feel better?
If you are shivering because you are cold, I will take your little feet in my hands, and will so warm them that they will grow strong and be able to run." She shook her head as she replied: "No, no, I am not cold.

I could walk.

But please wait a little, just a single minute." He saw well that invisible chains seemed again to have taken possession of her limbs, and, little by little, were attaching themselves so strongly to her that very soon, perhaps, it would be quite impossible for him to draw her away.

Yet, if he did not take her from there at once, if they did not flee together, he thought of the inevitable contest with his father on the morrow, of the distressing interview before which he had recoiled for weeks past.