"I took the second pair of oars and pulled as vigorously as if for a wager, though in reality it was in order to be excused from conversation. She was sitting nearly opposite me, but I could see only her little feet and the edge of her dress, for I kept my eyes obstinately cast down. Suddenly she began to speak of my wife, making a long, passionate declaration of love for her. She spoke at first of her goodness and warm-heartedness, of her fine mind, her strong and ready will; every word was true, a perfect portrait of her deepest nature. Then she described her appearance, feature by feature, with the idealizing penetration of a lover, and after I had listened for a long while, she asked me how I had learned to know her. I then told her of our first meeting; and as I recalled everything, I felt deep gratitude and happiness that nothing had changed; that my good star had given me even more than it had then promised; that even the woman opposite me could alter nothing. We were speaking French, and the words almost escaped me, '_Rien n'est changé; il n'y a qu'un amour de plus._' "I restrained myself, however, and, instead, rose from my seat, extended my hand to her, and said, 'I thank you for having learned to know and love her so.' "Her hand lay in mine like that of a corpse. We did not venture far out into the lake, for it was already beginning to roughen. You know how quickly it breaks from the deepest calm to the wildest uproar; and a dark cloud, toward which our boatman from time to time cast a watchful glance, was even then appearing above the Savoyard mountains. Therefore, as we stepped out upon the rocks near the Castle of Chillon, and saw the first breakers with their narrow silvery crests surging against the shore, I proposed to return on foot. She regarded me with a look which strangely transformed her face, but which had still greater power over me than her usual gentle and kindly expression. "'Do you fear the storm?' "'Not for myself,' I said, 'I can swim like a fish. But it is my duty to bring you home in safety.' "'I release you from that obligation. Whoever is to suffer, does not die. Come! Turn, the boat around.' "'Very well,' said I, '_vogue la galère_!' "And then we pushed out through the angry, swelling waves, while the air about us grew ever darker, and the houses at Montreux gleamed above us in dazzling sunshine. Muffled thunder came from the peaks beyond, but as yet no drops fell. As we were then rowing, we would reach home in half an hour. No one spoke a word. She had drawn her veil half over her face. I could see only her pale mouth. Her lips were slightly parted, and I saw them quiver now and then, more from scorn than pain. Suddenly she arose and hurried over the seats to the stern, where the boatman sat at the rudder. "'What are you going to do?' I cried. "'Nothing wrong. I merely wish to relieve the boatman for a while. I understand how, perfectly well.'