They went home. Ferdinand was so pleased to be at the hotel again, near
her. His bed seemed so comfortable; he was so happy, and he slept,
dreaming of Valentia.
The following night they went for their walk, arm in arm; and they came
to the canal. From the bridge they looked at the water. It was very
dark; they could not hear it flow. No stars were reflected in it, and
the trees by its side made the depth seem endless. Valentia shuddered.
Perhaps in a little while their bodies would be lying deep down in the
water. And they would be in one another's arms, and they would never be
separated. Oh, what a price it was to pay! She looked tearfully at
Ferdinand, but he was looking down at the darkness beneath them, and he
was intensely grave.
And they wandered there by day and looked at the black reflection of the
trees. And in the heat it seemed so cool and restful....
They abandoned their work. What did pictures and books matter now? They
sauntered about the meadows, along shady roads; they watched the black
and white cows sleepily browsing, sometimes coming to the water's edge
to drink, and looking at themselves, amazed. They saw the huge-limbed
milkmaids come along with their little stools and their pails, deftly
tying the cow's hind legs that it might not kick. And the steaming milk
frothed into the pails and was poured into huge barrels, and as each cow
was freed, she shook herself a little and recommenced to browse.
And they loved their life as they had never loved it before.
One evening they went again to the canal and looked at the water, but
they seemed to have lost their emotions before it. They were no longer
afraid. Ferdinand sat on the parapet and Valentia leaned against him. He
bent his head so that his face might touch her hair. She looked at him
and smiled, and she almost lifted her lips. He kissed them.
'Do you love me, Ferdinand?'
He gave the answer without words.
Their faces were touching now, and he was holding her hands. They were
both very happy.
'You know, Ferdinand,' she whispered, 'we are very foolish.'
'I don't care.'
'Monsieur Rollo said that folly was the chief attribute of man.'
'What did he say of love?'
'I forget.'