He gazed for a while at the fair young gardener, and seemed to enjoy her beauty. He shook his head irresolutely. At last he plucked the barrel-cap with the green cock's-feather deeper over his forehead, and strode towards her. The fair woman looked round, her cheek coloured slightly, and her eyes brightened. She let her hands fall by her side, and gazed silently at him as he neared her. "Good-day, Marion!" said the man, almost roughly. "Is there any one beside yourself in the garden?" "No, Adam." "It is well--I wish to speak with you. You are a good wife, Marion, and do your duty; but yet I must tell you that I cannot endure you any longer!" The bright cheeks grew pale as death; but she was silent and looked steadily before her. "No!" continued Adam; "longer I cannot bear it! You are very lovely, Marion, and that I know now, four weeks after our wedding, better than I did when I courted you, but--you are so wearisome, Marion! I will not say that you are absolutely without sense; but the Holy Virgin only knows whether it is asleep, or waiting in good hope of some mighty thought, when it is to appear. I have waited long for it, and now my patience is at an end. Have you once, only once, since we have been man and wife chattered amusingly, or made one single joke? or have my brightest strokes of wit ever found more favour from you than half a smile? Have you not ever gone calmly on your way like a statue? What is the use of my now and then making the discovery that you really are flesh and blood, when from morning to night I am obliged to laugh at my own jokes by myself, and so applaud my own rhymes with my own hands. Fool that I was! I should have thought of it sooner--when I fell in love with you! _Now_, I thought, she will begin to thaw! Confess yourself--have we not wearied each other as thoroughly as any wedded pair in Christendom?" The young wife remained obstinately silent, but her eyes filled with heavy drops. Adam broke a young twig hastily from the tree, and continued-- "I will not say that other women are, in the long-run, better, or more amusing--I do not say so; and I have at least to thank you for showing me so early that I have made a great mistake in taking a wife. But, for the third time--I can stand it no longer! Am I to mope and fritter away my young life in this hole, merely because I had the luck to think you pretty? And am I never to set foot in Paris, at the king's court, in the chambers of princes, where my talent would bring me honour and distinction?--and never set a foot in the houses of learned doctors of the University, where there are more clever things said in one hour than you produce in a year? and all this because you are a pretty woman--for you are one--and, by chance, my proper wife! May the devil bake me into a pancake if I stand it!" He paced up and down a few times, gesticulating vehemently, glanced sideways at his wife, and began again.