He threw caution to the winds and advanced on her.

He found her kneeling above a pool of water fed by the soft sliding little stream from the spring.

With one hand she held a burning branch by way of a torch, and with the other she patted her hair into shape and finally thrust the comb into the glittering, heavy coils.
She started, as if she felt his presence.
"P-P-Pierre!" "Yes ?" "Look!" She stood with the torch high overhead, and he saw a beauty so glorious that he closed his eyes involuntarily and still he saw the vision in the dull-green gown, with the scarf of old gold about her dazzling white shoulders.

And there were two lights, the barbaric red of the jewels in her hair, and the black shimmer of her eyes.

He drew back a step more.