"But I thought the chalet was closed at this time of the year." The ferryman told them that, on fine winter days, people out for a walk liked to visit the island, because they could enjoy quiet there, and that he had only just ferried a couple of ladies across.
A waiter, who was living amid the solitude of the island, brought them tea, in a rustic sitting-room, furnished with a couple of chairs, a table, a piano, and a sofa.

The panelling was mildewed, the planks of the flooring had started.

Felicie looked out of the window at the lawn and the tall trees.
"What is that," she asked, "that big dark ball on the poplar ?" "That's mistletoe, my pet." "One would think it was an animal rolled round the branch, gnawing at it.

It isn't nice to look at." She rested her head on her lover's shoulder, saying in a languid tone: "I love you." He drew her down upon the sofa.

She felt him, kneeling at her feet, his hands, clumsy with impatience, gliding over her, and she suffered his attempts, inert, discouraged, foreseeing that it was useless.