The nurse is raking the path.

The young girl is pure as an angel, but the beginning of love is there, faint as the dawn--" "Love for whom ?" asked the doctor, who, until now, would have listened to no word said to him by somnambulists.

He considered it all jugglery.
"You know nothing--though you have lately been uneasy about her health," answered the woman.

"Her heart has followed the dictates of nature." "A woman of the people to talk like this!" cried the doctor.
"In the state she is in all persons speak with extraordinary perception," said Bouvard.
"But who is it that Ursula loves ?" "Ursula does not know that she loves," said the woman with a shake of the head; "she is too angelic to know what love is; but her mind is occupied by him; she thinks of him; she tries to escape the thought; but she returns to it in spite of her will to abstain .-- She is at the piano--" "But who is he ?" "The son of a lady who lives opposite." "Madame de Portenduere ?" "Portenduere, did you say ?" replied the sleeper.

"Perhaps so.