She would not marry the Croatian? The captain’s mind was covered, momentarily blank, and then a thousand sweet, forgotten thoughts came rushing in. Beatrice would return to Paris, all was not lost, his courtship would continue as though nothing had stopped it. Yes, she would be melancholy over her broken engagement, perhaps, for a time, but his thrilling heart would not allow him to dwell on this for long. His mind was filled with the makings of a festival–wedding cakes, dancing couples, every white crinkling flower he knew. She would not marry the Croatian! And so for the captain, time had turned back, everything was as it had been a year ago. The suffocating winter had not left him bereft–
“Claude! Champagne tonight!” the captain shouted as he dashed for his desk, pulled out some paper. No, he could not write to her just now; his heart was too full. But he tipped back his head and rested it against the chair and let himself sigh. Spring was here, after a long winter.
-The Battle of the Swan, Maurice Chevel