A rosy flush rose to Christines cheeks, and her smile only widened as she hiked up her skirts above her boot-clad feet and ran laughing through the Paris snow from the night before. Youre going to have to run faster than that, Raoul! she called like the young child she had been long ago, when they had played together, in the house by the sea.
How she loved the snow. It was so white, so pure, and sparkled like diamonds in the sunshine. Though it may be trampled into slush and mud underneath countless feet and carriages in the Paris streets, somewhere, in the country, at least, there was somewhere where it remained undisturbed, save for as it dropped off of tree branches, or the light, dainty steps of some animal.
And also, she remembered the many snowball fights that had occurred between Raoul and herself, until their faces were flushed with cold, and they fled to the warm interior of her fathers house, to listen to a song or two from his violin, and snuggl