Section 10. The summer had come, and Thyrsis had gone away to live in a country village, and was reading Keats and Shelley, and the narrative poems of Scott. There came a soft warm evening, when all the world seemed a-dream; and he had been working hard, and there came to him a yearning for the stars. He went out, and was strolling through the streets of the village, when he saw a girl come out of one of the houses. She was younger than he, graceful of form, and pretty. The lamp-light flashed on her bright cheeks, and she smiled at him as she passed. And Thyrsis’ heart gave a great leap, and the blood surged to his face; he turned and looked, and saw that she was gazing over her shoulder at him. He stopped, and turned to follow, his meditations all gone, and gone his resolutions. A trembling seized him, and every nerve of him tingled. He could feel his heart as if it were underneath his throat. In a moment more he was beside the girl. “May I join you?” he asked, and she replied with a nod. Thyrsis moved beside her and took her arm in his. A moment later they came to a place where the road was dark, and he put his arm about her waist; she made no resistance. “I--I’ve seen you often before,” she said. “Yes,” he replied, “I have seen you.” And he suddenly remembered a remark that he had heard about her. There was a large summer-hotel in this neighborhood, which as usual had brought all the corruptions of the city in its train; and a youth whom Thyrsis had met there had pointed out the girl with the remark, “She’s a little beast.” And this idea, as it came to him, swept him away in a fierce tide of madness; he bent suddenly down and whispered into her ear. They were words that never in Thyrsis’ life had passed his lips before. The girl pushed him away; but she laughed. “You don’t mind, do you?” exclaimed Thyrsis, his heart thumping like a hammer. “Listen,” he whispered, bending towards her. “Let us go and take a walk. Let us go where no one will see us.” “Where?” she asked. “Out into the country,” he said. “Not now,” she replied. “Some other time.” “No, now!” exclaimed Thyrsis, desperately. “Now!” They had been moving slowly; they came to a place where a great tree hung over the road, shadowing it; and there they stopped, as by one impulse. “Listen to me,” he whispered, swiftly. “Listen. You don’t know how anxious I have been to meet you. It’s true--indeed it’s true!” He paused. “Yes,” said the girl, “and I have been wanting to meet you. Didn’t you ever see me nod to you?” And suddenly Thyrsis put his arms about her, and pressed her to him. The touch of her bosom sent the blood driving through his veins in torrents of fire; he no longer knew or cared what he said, or what he did. “Listen to me,” he raced on. “Listen to me! Nobody will know! And you are so beautiful, so beautiful! I love you!” The words burned his lips, but he forced himself to say them, again and again--“I love you!”