Annette's
spirits gradually revived. She began to deck her person with unusual
care; and bringing forth a basket of artificial flowers, she went to
work to wreathe a bridal chaplet of white roses. Her companions asked
her why she prepared the chaplet. "What!" said she with a smile, "have
you not noticed the trees putting on their wedding dresses of
blossoms? Has not the swallow flown back over the sea? Do you not know
that the time is come for Eugene to return? that he will be home
to-morrow, and that on Sunday we are to be married?"
Her words were repeated to the physician, and he seized on them at
once. He directed that her idea should be encouraged and acted upon.
Her words were echoed through the house. Every one talked of the
return of Eugene, as a matter of course; they congratulated her upon
her approaching happiness, and assisted her in her preparations. The
next morning, the same theme was resumed. She was dressed out to
receive her lover. Every bosom fluttered with anxiety. A cabriolet
drove into the village. "Eugene is coming!" was the cry. She saw him
alight at the door, and rushed with a shriek into his arms.
Her friends trembled for the result of this critical experiment; but
she did not sink under it, for her fancy had prepared her for his
return.
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