After that we changed the conversation, and talked of everything on earth; farms, cattle, and children, but try as we would, we could not keep away from the old subject. I thought perhaps that it would interest her to hear all about me and mine; but I soon found that she was too much of a woman not to have known long ago all that I could tell her; so we went on from one thing to another, up and down, in and out, just for the sake of talking. We were both great at puns, and jokes of that kind; and it would have taken your breath away to hear the cross fire of wit between us; and quick!--we fairly snatched the words out of each other’s mouths, and laughed till the tears ran down our cheeks. All at once six strokes sounded from the clock in the corner. “Six already!” said I; “it is time that I was going.” “Plenty of time,” said she. “I suppose your husband will be here in a few moments,” said I, “and to tell the truth, I am not so very anxious to meet him.” “That’s just the way I feel,” she answered. I looked out of the kitchen window at the meadows, all golden now with the rays of the setting sun which shone between the long grass blades. Down by the stream two cows were standing in the water, and a little bird hopped about on the shining pebbles. A black horse, with a star on his forehead, and a dapple gray were standing there; the black with his head resting on the back of the other. The fresh scent of hay and lilacs blew through the open door; the room was dark and the least bit musty; and I could just sniff the good cherry brandy from the mug before me. “You have a nice place of it here,” I could not help saying. “How much nicer if you had been in it all this time!” she said, putting her hand over mine as it lay on the table. It made me almost sorry that I had come, for of course I did not want her to be unhappy. “Belette,” said I, “perhaps on the whole things are better as they are; we get along well enough like this for an hour or two, but if we had had to spend our lives together, you know that there would have been trouble. Surely you must have heard that I have turned out rather badly: a dreamer, a talker, always dawdling about, backbiting and quarreling, and sticking my nose into other folk’s business. I am an idler too, and drink more than is good for me; all this would have made you unhappy, and then you would have taken up with some one else; it makes my hair stand on end only to think of it! So you see all is really for the best.” She heard me to the end, and then said seriously: “Yes, I know you are a perfect good-for-nothing, (she did not believe a word of it); probably you would have beaten me, and perhaps I should have taken a lover, but if that was our destiny, it might as well have come to us through each other.” I nodded my head. “You don’t seem to be of my mind?”