The rose-tree which grew above it has withered away and become a crown of thorns.
There are dead leaves on the stone slab.

They come from the chestnuts yonder.

They fell on the ground and yet they have flown away as far as the seat.
On this seat--where she came to me for the first time, which was once so important to us that it seemed as if the background of things all about us had been created by us--we sit down to-day, after we have vainly sought in nature the traces of our transit.
The landscape is peaceful, simple, empty; it fills us with a great quivering.

Marie is so sad and so simple that you can see her thought.
I have leaned forward, my elbows on my knees.

I have contemplated the gravel at my feet; and suddenly I start, for I understand that my eyes were looking for the marks of our footsteps, in spite of the stone, in spite of the sand.
After the solemnity of a long silence, Marie's face takes on a look of defeat, and suddenly she begins to cry.