You have been too well loved, monsieur; your brow, white and smooth as a magnolia leaf, reveals it; and it is I who must be neglected,--for who am I?
Ah! why have you called me to life?
I felt for a moment as though the heavy burden of the flesh was leaving me; my soul had broken the crystal which held it captive; it pervaded my whole being; the cold silence of material things had ceased; all things in nature had a voice and spoke to me.

The old church was luminous.

It's arched roof, brilliant with gold and azure like those of an Italian cathedral, sparkled above my head.

Melodies such as the angels sang to martyrs, quieting their pains, sounded from the organ.

The rough pavements of Havre seemed to my feet a flowery mead; the sea spoke to me with a voice of sympathy, like an old friend whom I had never truly understood.