He protested, quietly and calmly. Then she had a first moment of violence. ‘Be quiet! Could the garden ever die! It will sleep this winter, and wake up again in May, bringing back to us all that we have confided to it of our love; our kisses will bloom again in the flower garden; our vows will grow up again with the grass and the trees... If you could only see it, if you could hear it, it feels more deeply, and is more sweetly, more poignantly loving in this season of autumn, when it is falling asleep in its fruitfulness... You do not love me any more, you cannot understand.’
