Sometimes, in the middle of her great bed, she would rouse herself suddenly, her two hands joined and pressed against her breast as if a heavy burden were weighing her down and almost suffocating her.

She would then jump up, rush across the room in her bare feet, and, opening the window wide, would stand there, trembling slightly, until at last the pure fresh air calmed her.

She was continually surprised at this great change in herself, as if the knowledge of joys and griefs hitherto unknown had been revealed to her in the enchantment of dreams, and that her eyes had been opened to natural beauties which surrounded her.
What--was it really true that the unseen lilacs and laburnums of the Bishop's garden had so sweet an odour that she could no longer breathe it without a flush of colour mounting to her cheeks?
Never before had she perceived this warmth of perfume which now touched her as if with a living breath.
And again, why had she never remarked in preceding years a great Japanese Paulownia in blossom, which looked like an immense violet bouquet as it appeared between two elm-trees in the garden of the Voincourts?
This year, as soon as she looked at it, her eyes grew moist, so much was she affected by the delicate tints of the pale purple flowers.

She also fancied that the Chevrotte had never chattered so gaily over the pebbles among the willows on its banks.

The river certainly talked; she listened to its vague words, constantly repeated, which filled her heart with trouble.