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"The only thing he loved about her right away was her voice. A warm, deep, nocturnal contralto voice. As mysterious as the doe's eyes under that schoolteacher's hair. Bérénice spoke with a certain slowness. With sudden bursts, quickly repressed, accompanied by glimmers in her eyes like onyx fires. Then suddenly, it seemed, very quickly, that the young woman had the feeling of having betrayed herself, the corners of her mouth drooped, her lips became trembling, finally all this ended in a smile, and the sentence that had begun was interrupted, leaving a clumsy gesture of the hand to finish a daring thought, for which everything in this demeanor now apologized."