"What do you want? Tell me what you want, Guillaume."
"Your eyes, Gilberte, to kiss your innocent eyes, your eyes which are like the eyes of a little girl."
Closing the lids, she offered her eyes, as though it were a quite natural thing. He took her in his arms and drew her to him. But a shiver passed through her at once. She made an instinctive movement of resistance and moaned:
"No ... no ... oh, please don't! ..."
She was not laughing now. A blush covered her cheeks and forehead. She no longer dared look at him; and Guillaume's eyes almost hurt her. This time, it was the real, perturbing, mysterious revelation of love. Shaken with emotion, she faltered:
"Go away ... please go away ..."
He kissed the hem of her skirt, picked some leaves, some blades of grass that Gilberte's feet had trodden and went away.