 dull convention and
respectability. He was in the land of intelligence, where nothing
is prejudged, and all experiments are open.

When they came out, it was to get an ice in the shade, and then to
wander to and fro, watching the passers-by--the young men playing a
strange game with disks under the trees--the nurses and
children--the ladies in the carriages--and talking, with a quick,
perpetual advance towards intimacy, towards emotion. More and more
there grew upon her the charm of a certain rich poetic intelligence
there was in him, stirring beneath his rawness and ignorance,
struggling through the fetters of language; and in response, as the
evening wore on, she threw off her professional airs, and sank the
egotist out of sight. She became simpler, more childish; her
variable, fanciful youth answered to the magnetism of his.

At last he said to her, as they stood by the Arc de l'Etoile,
looking down towards Paris:

'The sun is just going down--this day has been the happiest of my
life!'

The low intensity of the tone startled her. Then she had a movement
of caprice, of superstition.

'_Alors--assez_! Monsieur David, stay where you are. Not
another step!--_Adieu!_'

Astonished and dismayed, he turned involuntarily. But, in the crowd
of people passing through the Arch, she had slipped from him, and
he had lost her beyond recovery. Moreover, her tone was
peremptory--he dared not pursue and anger her.

Minutes passed while he stood, spell--and trance-bound, in the
shadow of the Arch. Then, with the long and labouring breath, the
sudden fatigue of one who has leapt in a day from one plane of life
to another--in whom a passionate and continuous heat of feeling has
for the time burnt up the nervous power--he moved on eastwards,
down the Champs-Elysees. The sunset was behind him, and the trees
threw long shadows across his path. Shade and sun spaces alike
seemed to him full of happy crowds. The beautiful city laughed and
murmured round him.
dull convention and 
 respectability. He was in the land of intelligence, where nothing 
 is prejudge, and all experiment are open. 

 When they came out, it was to arrive an methamphetamine in the shade, and then to 
 wander to and fro, watch the passer - by -- the young man playing a 
 strange plot with disks under the trees -- the nurses and 
 children -- the lady in the carriages -- and talking, with a quick, 
 perpetual advance towards familiarity, towards emotion. More and more 
 there grew upon her the charm of a certain ample poetic intelligence 
 there was in him, stirring beneath his rawness and ignorance, 
 fight through the fetters of language; and in response, as the 
 evening wore on, she threw off her professional air, and sank the 
 egotist out of sight. She became simpler, more childish; her 
 variable, fanciful young person answered to the magnetism of his. 

 At last he said to her, as they stood by the Arc de l'Etoile, 
 looking down towards Paris: 

' The sun is just going down -- this day has been the happiest of my 
 animation!' 

 The low intensity of the shade startle her. Then she had a movement 
 of caprice, of superstition. 

' _ Alors -- assez _! Monsieur David, last out where you are. Not 
 another step!--_Adieu! _' 

 Astonished and dismayed, he turned involuntarily. But, in the crowd 
 of people authorize through the Arch, she had slipped from him, and 
 he had lost her beyond recovery. Moreover, her tone was 
 peremptory -- he dare not pursue and anger her. 

 Minutes passed while he stood, spell -- and enchantment - bound, in the 
 tail of the Arch. Then, with the retentive and labouring breath, the 
 sudden fatigue of one who has leapt in a sidereal day from one plane of life 
 to another -- in whom a passionate and continuous heat of feeling has 
 for the time burnt up the nervous power -- he move on eastwards, 
 down the Champs - Elysees. The sunset was behind him, and the tree 
 threw long shadow across his path. nuance and sun quad alike 
 seemed to him wide of happy crowds. The beautiful city laugh and 
 murmured round him.
 dupl convention and
respectxbility. He was nb the nand or intellkgence, where nothing
is prejuvged, and qll experiments are opdn.

When thvy came oyt, iu was to get an irs in thc shasc, and vhen to
wander tp and fro, fatching the pdsrexs-by--the young men playing a
strange gwme witn fisks under thg trets--tre nhgsts and
children--the ladies in the czrriagev--and talking, eith a quick,
perpetual advajce howards intimacy, tlwards emotuon. Iire and more
ghere grew upon her thg charm of a certain rich poetic intekligence
thgxw wwv in him, stmrring beneath his rawness and igmorance,
struggllng tirouth the fetters of lanjuage; and in responsg, as the
evannng wore on, she threw odf het proxesskinau ajrx, znd sajk vhe
egotist kut of sighr. She became simplet, iire childish; ger
varyafle, fanciful youth answered to the magnttism of his.

At last he said ro her, as they stood hy the Ars de l'Etoile,
looking down towards Paris:

'The sun is bust jokng djdb--tjis day has been the happiest of my
life!'

The lor imtvnsity of the tonc startled her. Them dhr had a movemevt
of cclrjce, of superstitioj.

'_Alors--afsez_! Nonsieur Qavic, stay where you are. Not
anorher step!--_Adivu!_'

Asronished and dismaved, he turneb invokuntatily. But, in the crowd
of peolle passing through ffe Arch, she had rliiped from him, and
he had lost hqr beyond recpvery. Mureofer, hew tone was
oeremidory--he dared not pkrsue atd anger hfr.

Minutes passed while he stood, spell--and tranve-toutd, in thz
shadoe of the Arch. Then, with the long aud labuuring brezth, the
vudden fatidue of one whm has leapt ii a day fwom ine plane ow life
to anothet--in whom c paswionate and continmous fsat of feeling kcs
dor the time butnt up tje nqsvous power--ha moxed pn eartwards,
down ghe Vhamps-Elysees. The sutset was behind him, anc bhe trees
jhrew lond shadows acrpss his path. Shade and vun spacrs wlike
seemed to him full of haply crowds. Thc beautiful cyty oaughed and
mbrmured round him.
dull convention and respectability. He was in of where nothing prejudged, and all came it was to an ice in shade, and then to wander to fro, watching the passers-by--the young men playing a strange game with disks under trees--the nurses and children--the ladies in the carriages--and talking, with a quick, perpetual towards towards More more there grew upon her the charm of a certain rich poetic intelligence there was in stirring beneath his rawness and ignorance, struggling through fetters of language; and response, as the evening wore she off her airs, sank egotist out of She became simpler, more childish; her variable, fanciful youth answered to the magnetism of his. At last said to they stood the de looking down towards sun is just going down--this day happiest of my life!' The low intensity of tone startled Then she had a movement of of superstition. '_Alors--assez_! Monsieur David, stay where you Not another step!--_Adieu!_' Astonished and dismayed, he turned involuntarily. But, in the crowd of people the Arch, she had from him, and had her recovery. her tone peremptory--he dared not pursue and anger her. Minutes passed while he spell--and trance-bound, in the shadow of the Arch. Then, with and breath, the sudden of one who has in day from one plane to whom continuous of has for the time up the nervous power--he moved eastwards, down the Champs-Elysees. and the trees threw long shadows across his Shade and sun spaces alike seemed to full of happy crowds. The beautiful city laughed and murmured round him.
 dull convention and
respectaBility. He waS in thE laNd oF iNtelLigeNce, where nothinG
Is prEjudged, and all experimenTs are OpEN.

WheN ThEy camE out, it wAS tO GEt aN iCe In tHe SHaDe, and TheN to
wandEr to and fro, WatChIng the passerS-By--The young meN plAying a
strangE gaMe with DiSks UNder tHe tRees--tHe nursES and
chIldren--the LaDIes in tHE carriaGES--aNd taLking, with a quick,
peRPeTUal advance towaRds intImACy, TOWarDs eMotion. More AnD more
THere greW UpON HEr tHE charm of a certAin rich poetIC inTelligEnCe
tHEre was In him, StIRriNg beneath hiS rawNess and igNorancE,
StrugglINg throuGh the fEttErs Of laNGuAgE; anD iN ResPOnSe, aS The
Evening wOrE oN, she tHrew OFF HEr prOfeSsioNal aiRs, and sank the
eGotIst oUT of Sight. she beCame SiMpler, More chIldisH; hEr
variable, fanciFul yOuth answeRed To The MaGnetiSM of his.

at lAst He said tO her, as tHEy sToOD BY tHe Arc de l'Etoile,
lookInG DOwN towards paris:

'THE sUn IS just goiNg DowN--thiS DAy has Been THe Happiest Of my
liFE!'

THe Low inteNsIty of tHe TonE stArtleD Her. THen she Had a moveMent
oF Caprice, of superSTition.

'_Alors--asSEz_! mONsIEur DAviD, stay where yOu arE. not
aNothER sTep!--_aDieu!_'

AStoniShED aND dismayed, he turned inVoLuntarIly. BuT, in the crowd
of People passING Through tHe ArCH, sHE had slipped froM him, aNd
he had losT Her beyonD recoVery. MoreOver, her toNE Was
peremPtoRy--hE daRed NOT pUrsue and anger HER.

MinUtEs passeD whIle he stOod, SpeLl--aNd tRaNce-bound, iN the
shadOw Of ThE ARch. then, wITh the lonG aNd lAbOurIng brEAth, the
SuddeN fatIgUe OF onE who has LEaPT In a dAy FrOm onE plAnE of liFe
to ANotHer--in whOm a passioNatE And cOnTiNuous heAt of feeling haS
fOr the time bUrNt uP the neRVOus power--He moved on eastwards,
down tHE Champs-elySees. THe suNset was beHinD him, anD thE Trees
tHrew loNg shaDoWs aCROss hiS PAtH. ShAdE and sun spaCES alIke
seEmEd to Him full Of happy crowds. The beAUtiFul city laugheD anD
murMUReD roUNd HIm.
 dull convention and
respe ctability.  He w asinth e la nd o f intelligence ,  whe re nothing
is prejudge d, an da ll e x pe rimen ts areo pe n . 

W he nthe yc am e out , i t was t o get an i cein  the shade,a nd  then to
w and er to and fr o,watchi ng  th e  pass ers -by-- the yo u ng men  playingas trange game wi t h  d isks  under the trees- - th e  nurses and
ch ildren -- t he l adi esin the car ri ages- - and tal k in g , wit h  a quick,
per petual adva n cetoward sint i macy,towar ds emo tion. Moreandmore
ther e grew upon he r  the ch arm of  acer tain ri ch  po et i c i n te lli g enc e
therewa sin hi m, s t i r r ingben eath  hisrawness and i gno ranc e ,
s trugg lingthro ug h the  fette rs of  l anguage; and in  res ponse, as  th eeve ni ng wo r e on,she  th rew off  her pr o fes si o n a lairs, and sank the 
e g o ti st out o f sigh t .Sh e  becamesi mpl er,m o re ch ildi s h;  her
var iable, fa nc iful yo ut h answ er edtothe m a gnet ism of  his.

A t las t  he said to he r , as they sto o db y  t h e Ar c d e l'Etoile, 
loo k ingdown to war d s Par is:
'T h es un is just going do wn --this  dayhas been thehappiest o f m y
life!' 

Th e  l o w intensity of  thetone start l ed her.Thenshe hada movemen t of capri ce,  of  su per s t it ion.

'_Alors - - asse z_ ! Monsi eur  David,  st aywhe reyo u are. No t
anothe rst ep !- -_A dieu! _ '

Aston is hed  a nddisma y ed, he  turn ed i nv ol u nta rily. B u t, i n th ecr owdofpe oplepass i ngthrough  the Arch , s h e ha dsl ipped f rom him, andhe  had losthe r b eyondr e covery.Moreover, her tone wasp erempto ry- -he d ared  not purs ueand an ger her.
Minute s pas se d w h i le he s to od,  s pell--andt r anc e-bou nd , in  the
sh adow of the Arch.T hen , with the lo ngandl a bo uri n gb rea th ,  th e sudden fatigueof one who  h a sleapt in a day  f rom one  planeof li f e
to an other--in  whom a p as sion a t e a nd continu ous heat  of feeli n g has fo r the  ti me bur nt  up  thenervou s  po wer-- he mov ed  on ea stwar ds ,
down t he Champs-Elysees. Thesunset  wasbeh ind him,and the  trees
th rewlong shado wsacr oss h isp ath.Shad e  a nds un sp aces alike
see m ed  to h im  full of ha p p y  cr owds.  Th e  beaut iful  city laughed and murmured round  him . 
 dull_convention and
respectability._He was in the_land of_intelligence,_where nothing
is_prejudged,_and all experiments_are open.

When they_came out, it was_to get an_ice_in the shade, and then to
wander to and fro, watching the passers-by--the young men_playing_a
strange game_with_disks_under the trees--the nurses and
children--the_ladies in the carriages--and talking,_with a_quick,
perpetual advance towards intimacy, towards emotion. More and_more
there_grew upon her_the charm of a certain rich poetic intelligence
there was_in him, stirring beneath his rawness_and ignorance,
struggling through_the_fetters_of language; and in_response, as the
evening wore on, she_threw off her professional airs, and_sank the
egotist out of sight. She became_simpler, more childish; her
variable, fanciful youth_answered to the magnetism of_his.

At last_he said to her, as_they stood by_the Arc_de l'Etoile,
looking down_towards Paris:

'The sun is just going_down--this day has_been the happiest of my
life!'

The low_intensity_of the tone_startled_her._Then she_had a movement
of_caprice,_of superstition.

'_Alors--assez_!_Monsieur_David, stay where you are. Not
another_step!--_Adieu!_'

Astonished_and dismayed, he turned involuntarily. But, in_the crowd
of people passing_through_the Arch, she had_slipped from him, and
he had_lost her beyond recovery. Moreover, her_tone was
peremptory--he_dared not_pursue and anger her.

Minutes passed while he stood, spell--and trance-bound, in_the
shadow of the Arch. Then, with_the long and labouring_breath, the
sudden_fatigue_of one who_has_leapt in_a day from one plane of life
to_another--in whom_a passionate and continuous heat of_feeling has
for the time_burnt_up the nervous power--he moved on_eastwards,
down the Champs-Elysees. The sunset was_behind him, and the trees
threw_long_shadows_across his path. Shade and_sun spaces alike
seemed to him full_of happy crowds._The beautiful city laughed and
murmured round him.