As she stood there slightly bending, her neck stretched out to watch the flight of a bird past the windows, he could only compare her to a gazelle pausing to listen for the ripple of the water where she seeks to drink.
"Come and sit here," said Beauvouloir, tapping his knee and making a sign to Gabrielle, which told her he had something to whisper to her.
Gabrielle understood him, and came.

She placed herself on his knee with the lightness of a gazelle, and slipped her arm about his neck, ruffling his collar.
"Tell me," he said, "what were you thinking of when you gathered those flowers?
You have never before arranged them so charmingly." "I was thinking of many things," she answered.

"Looking at the flowers made for us, I wondered whom we were made for; who are they who look at us?
You are wise, and I can tell you what I think; you know so much you can explain all.

I feel a sort of force within me that wants to exercise itself; I struggle against something.

When the sky is gray I am half content; I am sad, but I am calm.