"What's more," he reflected, "I know that the male does not die on the spot; he goes running about in search of food as soon as he's free. Still, I would have liked to see the mechanism of separation. That will come with luck. One must always count on luck, whether one is studying animals or men. To be sure, there is also patience, perseverance..."
He made a little movement with his head, signifying, no doubt, that patience and perseverance were not in his line. Then, very gently, he laid the flower with its sleeping burden on the parapet of the terrace. It was only then he noticed that Rose was no longer there.
"I must have annoyed her by what I said about the moustache. It wasn't true, either. But there are moments when that child gets on my nerves with that look of hers, as though she wanted to be kissed. And yet, if I did so much as to lay my hand on her shoulder, I should get my face smacked. A curious creature. But then all women are curious creatures, girls above all."
Carefully wiping his glass, M. Hervart stepped across the stream and entered the wood.
