A Parisian Romance — page 30: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A PARISIAN KOMANCE. 21 Rigaud followed his straight, manly figure with her eyes, a tender look in their brown depths. A month ago she was unaware of his very existence, and now—and now she scarcely dared to confess even to herself how much his presence or absence meant to her. “Tt is a Provencal] air,” she said, as he returned with the instrument, “that I found in an old music book of Aunt Reine’s, and it seemed to me that the melody was peculiarly fitted to the words of your poem.” De Targy threw himself down on the grass be- side her, and with his eyes fixed with a hungry look upon the flower-like face above him, waited for her to begin. Marcelle passed the blue ribbon of the guitar about her neck, and, after sweeping the strings once or twice with her fingers, sang, in a low, rich voice, the following serenade: ‘Cool, tranquil shadows fill the silent woods; We are alone, far from the noisy world, A boundless ecstasy above us broods, And life’s rude care fades like a cloud unfurled. Hark, my belov’d, a flute, far, far away, Breathed faintly forth a plaintive strain of love ; Borne on the fitful breeze of waning day, No other sound is heard in all the grove. Oh, ecstasy of love! Oh, joy of life! Oh, passing dream which I have made mine own! Divine delight with which my soul is rife, Filled like a sea shell with the billows’ moan ! Gomicbookssco im