Walking among the whispering leaves, the conclusion I came to was that I must take some precaution, or Coralie d'Aubergne would marry me whether I was willing or not.

A siren is a faint shadow compared with a beautiful woman resolved to win a man whether he wants winning or not.
Why not risk my fate and ask Agatha to be my wife?
There was a faint hope in my heart that she would not refuse me, yet she was so modest, so retiring, that though I had most perseveringly sought her favor since the first moment I had seen her, I could not tell whether she cared for me or not.
To judge by Coralie's standard, she did not like me.

In all our conversation it half maddened me to see the lovely eyes I loved so dearly dropped shyly away from me.
It may not be a very elegant comparison, but she always reminded me of some shy, beautiful bird.

She had a bright, half-startled way of looking at me.

Several times, when I met her suddenly, I saw the lovely face flush and the little hands tremble.
Did she love me or did she not?
I could not tell.