Agnes resembled her.

In designing from the old statue, Felicien certainly thought of her, and this idea--that she was in his mind, always present with him, that he saw her everywhere--softened her resolution to avoid him.

At last she looked up; she noticed how eager he was, and his eyes glistened with so earnest a supplication that she was conquered.

Still, with the intuitive half-malice, the love of tormenting, this natural science which comes to all young girls, even when they are entirely ignorant of life, she did not wish to have the appearance of yielding too readily.
"It is impossible," she repeated.

"I could not do it for anyone." Felicien was in despair.