Certain of Madame de Cintre's personal qualities--the luminous sweetness of her eyes, the delicate mobility of her face, the deep liquidity of her voice--filled all his consciousness.

A rose-crowned Greek of old, gazing at a marble goddess with his whole bright intellect resting satisfied in the act, could not have been a more complete embodiment of the wisdom that loses itself in the enjoyment of quiet harmonies.
He made no violent love to her--no sentimental speeches.

He never trespassed on what she had made him understand was for the present forbidden ground.

But he had, nevertheless, a comfortable sense that she knew better from day to day how much he admired her.

Though in general he was no great talker, he talked much, and he succeeded perfectly in making her say many things.