La Cafetière

The clock struck one; everybody halted. I saw something which had escaped me: a woman who was not dancing. 

She sat on a wide armchair next to the fireplace and seemed absolutely indifferent to what happened around her.

Never, not even in a dream, anything so perfect had revealed itself before my eyes; a skin of blinding whiteness, ash blonde hair, long eyelashes and blue eyes, so clear and transparent that through them I could distinctly detect her soul as a pebble lying at the bottom of a stream. 

And I felt that, if I ever happened to love someone, it would have been her. […]

I no longer had any idea of either place or time; the real world did not exist for me anymore: all the ties which tied me to it were loosened; my soul, free from its prison of mud, flowed in the vague and infinite; I understood things which no man can understand, Angela’s thoughts revealed themselves to me without need to open her mouth, for her soul shone in her body as in an alabaster lamp and the rays which emanated from her breast cut through mine from side to side.

(Théophile Gautier)

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