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Alas! Thaddeus felt how unwise it is to observe too closely a

beautiful object; how shameful to be a spy over one's sweetheart;

how even loathsome it is to change one's taste and heart-but who

can control his heart? In vain he tried to supply the lack of

love by conscience, to warm again the coldness of his soul with

the flame of her glance; now that glance, like the moon, bright

but without warmth, shone over the surface of a soul that was

chilled to its depths. Making such complaints and reproaches to

himself, he bent his head over his plate, kept silent, and bit

his lips.