.

.
It was she, and yet he was slow to recognize her.

He felt a certain strangeness in seeing in full reality the countenance which had occupied his imagination for three months, each time more spirituelle and shadowy with the idealism of absence.

But his doubts were of short duration.
Then it seemed as though time and space were eliminated, that he had not made any voyage, and but a few hours had intervened since their last interview.
Marguerite divined the expansion which might follow Julio's exclamations, the vehement hand-clasp, perhaps something more, so she kept herself calm and serene.
"No; not here," she said with a grimace of repugnance.

"What a ridiculous idea for us to have met here!" They were about to seat themselves on the iron chairs, in the shadow of some shrubbery, when she rose suddenly.