But at least he saw her, he breathed the same air with her, he heard her
voice, whose pure and harmonious vibrations thrilled his very soul.
By constantly watching her eyes, he learned to understand all their
expressions. He believed he could read in them all her thoughts, and
through them look into her soul like through an open window.
"She is pleased to-day," he would say to himself; and then he would
be happy. At other times, he thought, "She has met with some annoyance
to-day;" and immediately he became sad.
The idea of asking for her hand many times presented itself to his
imagination; but he never dared to entertain it. Knowing, as he did,
the marchioness's prejudices, her devotion to titles, her dread of any
approach to a misalliance, he was convinced she would shut his mouth
at the first word by a very decided "no," which she would maintain. To
attempt the thing would be to risk, without a chance of success, his
present happiness which he thought immense, for love lives upon its own
misery.
"Once repulsed," thought he, "the house is shut against me; and then
farewell to happiness, for life will end for me." Upon the other
hand, the very rational thought occurred to him that another might
see Mademoiselle d'Arlange, love her, and, in consequence, ask for and
obtain her.
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