"With that Geraldine hung her head to hide her blushes, but Valentine thought she was angry. He turned on his heel and would have gone away, but she called him back, and told him not to go away angry--and then they made it up somehow. Valentine said he would speak to Geraldine's father. This he did, but the father shook his head. "'You want to take her to a hut?' he cried. 'Why she might as well have stayed in the Conjurer's cave. Go and get you a fortune, and then come back, and maybe we'll talk the matter over.' "Valentine went away very sad. He never turned his head, although Geraldine was watching him from a window, ready to wave her hand and throw him a kiss. He wandered off into the woods until he came to the bank of the River, and there he sat watching the water go by. He watched it until he almost forgot his own trouble. It went along slowly and majestically, and sometimes it seemed to come eddying back to kiss the bank at his feet. For a little while it smoothed the wrinkles in his mind. He wondered where the River came from and where it was going to. It was always coming and always going, and there was never an end to it. All day long it went by, sometimes laughing and playing in the shallows and sometimes sighing a little under the willows. "Valentine watched it and listened to the pleasant sounds it made until he began to feel as if the River was something like a friend and companion. It soothed his grief and drove away his loneliness. Being alone, he began to speak his thoughts aloud. "'Oh! I wish I had a friend as strong and as powerful as the River!' he cried. "'And why not?' he heard a voice say. The water at his feet splashed a little louder. He looked around, but saw no one; he listened, but heard nothing. "'I wonder who could have spoken?' he said aloud. "'Who but your friend, the River?' a Voice replied. "'Please don't mock me, whoever you are. There is no fun in misfortune,' said Valentine. "'None at all' responded the Voice. 'I am your friend the River. I will give you all the aid in my power.' "'How am I to know the River is talking?' Valentine asked. "'By this,' replied the River. At the word, a wave larger than all the rest sprang up the bank, and threw its spray in Valentine's hair and face. 'That is my salute,' said the River. 'It is a rough way, but I know no other. Now, how can I aid you?' "'That is what troubles me,' responded Valentine. 'You are always going; you never stay.' "'True,' said the River; 'but I am always coming. Therefore I must be always returning.' "'But how?' Valentine asked. "'Not this way,' said the River, 'but over your head. When in the early morning, or in the warmer noon, or in the pleasant evenings, you see the white clouds flying westward, you may be sure that I am returning.' Then the River broke into a thousand ripples, as if smiling. "But Valentine sat with a very serious face. 'I do not know how you can aid me,' he sighed.