"Oh, my darling little body! Oh, my heart! Would I could hold your little feet in my hands, upon my mouth. . . . I would like to eat you all . . ."
Without budging and very low and very quickly, just as he had spoken, she replied full of trouble: "Crazy! Foolish boy! Silence! I beg of you . . ."
A stroller-by of a certain age limped slowly past them. They felt their two bodies melt together with tenderness. . . .
Nobody left on the walk. A sparrow with ruffled feathers was dusting itself in the sand. The fountain shed its lucent droplets. Timidly their faces turned one toward the other; and scarcely had their eyes met each other, when like the rush of birds their mouths met, frightened and closely pressed—and then they flew apart. Luce sprang up, departed. He also had risen. She said to him: "Stay here."
They did not dare to look at one another any longer. He murmured:
"Luce! That little bit . . . that little bit of happiness . . . say, now we have it!"