I wished to feel myself his strong opponent, which I was to begin with. I enjoyed feeling his nervousness, his stupid sulkiness, and his curiosity. I played with him, I teased him, I tortured him!
But just as I fancied myself victorious, he conquered me. I can still see him standing in front of me, bidding me good-bye in polite, sarcastic words. I felt his glance like a whip across my face, and when he turned to go I suddenly grew terrified of losing him. I called him back, I felt it was weakness, yet it made me happy.
This stranger! for he is a stranger to me, though I have never felt such good friends with any one before. It was utterly impossible to feel reserved and superior with him. His words and his voice seem to draw me towards him in such a natural yet respectful way. There was something exquisitely musical in the way in which he tuned his attitude to mine. The only times I have felt anything like it before have been when dancing with a partner who firmly and fearlessly led me into the rhythm of the music. When I close my eyes, I can still hear his voice. Yes, indeed, there is rhythm in that voice, and I feel as though I was dancing—a languid, softly gliding dance.
I hear his parting words as he took both my hands, looking smilingly into my eyes, saying, 'Good-bye, you very charming unknown girl, whom I am so very happy to have met.'
