atmosphere grew heavier. The gravel crunched under our tread, the bees buzzed about the spiræa bushes. Nothing else to be heard far or near. She clung to my arm quite confidentially, and every now and then made me stop when she pulled out a weed or plucked a piece of mignonette to tickle her nose with for an instant and then throw it away.

"I wish I loved flowers," she said. "There are so many people who love flowers, or say they love them. In love affairs you can never get at the truth."

"Why not?" I asked. "Don't you think it ever happens that two human beings like each other and say so--quite simply--without design or ulterior motives?"

"Like each other--like each other," she said tauntingly. "Are you such an icicle that you translate 'love' by 'like'?"

"Unfortunately, whether I am an icicle or not no longer matters," I answered.

"You're a noble-hearted man," she said, and looked at me sidewise, a bit coquettishly. "Everything you think comes out as straight as if shot from a pistol."

"But I know how to keep quiet, too," I said.

"Oh, I feel that," she answered hastily. "I could confide everything to you, everything." It seemed to me that she pressed my arm very gently.

"What does she want of you?" I asked myself, and I felt my heart beating in my throat.

At last we reached the arbour, an arbour of Virginia creeper, with those broad, pointed leaves which keep the sun out entirely. It's always night in arbours of Virginia creeper, you know.

She let go my arm, kneeled on the ground, and crept through a little hole on all fours. The entrance was completely overgrown, and that was the only way to get inside.

And I, Baron von Hanckel of Ilgenstein, I, a paragon of dignity, I got down on all fours, and crawled through a hole no larger than an oven door.

Yes, gentlemen, that is what the women do with us.

Inside in the cool twilight she stretched herself out on a bench in a half reclining position, and wiped her bared throat with her handkerchief. Beautiful! I tell you, she looked perfectly beautiful.

When I got up and stood in front of her breathless, panting like a bear--at forty-eight years of age, gentlemen, you don't go dancing on all fours with impunity--she burst out laughing--a short, sharp, nervous laugh.

"Just laugh at me," I said.

"If you only knew how little I felt like laughing," she said, with a bitter expression about her mouth.

Then there was silence. She stared into space with her eyebrows lifted high. Her bosom rose and fell.

"What are you thinking of?" I asked.

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Thinking--what's the good of thinking? I'm tired. I want to sleep."

"Then go to sleep."

"But you must go to sleep, too," she said.

"Very well, I'll go to sleep, too."

And I also half stretched myself out on the bench opposite her.

"But you must shut your eyes," she commanded again. I obediently shut my eyes. I saw suns and light--green wheels and sheaves of fire the whole time--saw them the whole time. That comes from your blood being stirred up. And every now and then I'd say to myself:

"Hanckel, you're making a fool of yourself."

It was so quiet I could hear the little bugs crawling about on the leaves.

"You must see what she's doing," I said to myself, hoping to be able to admire her in her sleeping glory to my heart's content.

But when I opened my eyes the least little bit to steal a look, I saw--and, gentlemen, a shiver of fright went through me to the very tips of my toes--I saw her eyes fixed on me in a wide, wild stare, in a sort of spying frenzy, I may say.

"But, Iolanthe, dear child," I said, "why are you looking at me that way? What have I done to you?"

She jumped to her feet as if startled out of a dream, wiped her forehead and cheeks, and tried to laugh--two or three times--short, abrupt little laughs, like before--and then she burst out crying, and cried as if her heart would break.

I jumped up and went over to her. I should have liked to put my hand on her head, too, but I lacked the courage. I asked her if something was troubling her and whether she would not confide in me, and so on.

"Oh, I'm the most miserable creature on earth," she sobbed.

"Why?"

"I want to do something--something horrible--and I haven't got the courage to."

"Well, well, what is it?"

"I can't tell you! I can't tell you!"

That was all I could get out of her, though I did my best to persuade her to confide more in me. But gradually her expression changed and grew gloomier and more set. And finally she said in a suppressed voice as if to herself:

"I want to go away--I want to run away."

"Good Lord, with whom?" I asked, completely taken aback.

She shrugged her shoulders.

"With whom? Nobody. There's nobody here who takes up for me--not even the shepherd boy. But I must go away. I'm stifling here--I have nothing to hope for here. I shall perish. And as there's nobody to come and take me away, I'm going to go off by myself."

"But, my dear young lady," I said, "I understand you're a trifle bored at Krakowitz. It's a bit lonely--and your father kicks up a row with all the neighbours. But if you would consent to marry. A woman like you need only crook her little finger."

"Oh, nonsense! Empty words. Who would want me? Do you know anybody who wants me?"

My heart beat frightfully. I didn't mean to say it--it was madness--but there, it was out! I told her I wanted to prove to her that I for my part was not talking empty words--or something of the sort.

Because even after that I could not screw up my courage--God knows--to make love to her regularly.

She shut her eyes and heaved a deep sigh. Then she took hold of my arm and said:

"Before you leave, Baron, I want to confess something, so that you should not be under a wholly wrong impression. My father and mother are not asleep. When they heard your carriage coming up the drive, they locked themselves in their room--that is, mother did not want to, but father forced her to. Our being here together is a preconcerted plan. I was to turn your head, so that you should ask me to marry you. Ever since your first visit here both of them, both father and mother, have been tormenting me, father with threats, mother with entreaties, not to let the chance slip, because an eligible party like you would never turn up again. Baron, forgive me. I didn't want to. Even if I had loved you, oh, ever so much, that would have disgusted me with you. But now that this is off my conscience, now I am willing. If you want me, take me. I am yours."

Gentlemen, put yourself in my place. A beautiful young woman, a perfect Venus, throwing herself at me out of pride and despair, and I, a good, corpulent gentleman in the late forties. Was it not a sort of sacrilege to snatch up and carry off a bit of good fortune like that?

"Iolanthe," I said, "Iolanthe, dear, sweet child, do you know what you are doing?"

"I know," she replied, and smiled a woebegone smile. "I am lowering myself before God, before myself and before you. I'm making myself your slave, your creature, and I am deceiving you at the same time."

"You cannot even bear