Then will a thrill of emotion in her tone she went on more quickly: “Your enthusiasm, your initiative ... everything that is sincere and spontaneous in you ... and other qualities that I have not yet had time to discover in you ... all that touches me profoundly.” Their two hands were still clasped; their eyes still gazed into one another. Ralph was quivering with tenderness. She sighed and said gently: “When one says good-by forever, one is bound to return one another’s gifts. Give me back my portrait, Ralph.” “No, no! Never!” he cried. “Then I,” she said with a smile which intoxicated him, “I shall be more honest than you and honestly give back to you the gift you gave me.” “But what gift?” he asked, for he could remember no gift. “The first night ... in the barn ... while I was sleeping ... you leaned over me; and I felt your lips.” She bent towards him, put her arms round his neck, drew his head towards her, and their mouths met. “Oh, Josine!” he cried, lost. “Do what you like with me.... I love you.... I love!” They walked along the bank of the Seine, the waving reeds below them. They brushed against the long narrow spears shaken by the breeze. They went towards happiness with no other thoughts in their hearts but those which make lovers, walking hand in hand, tremble. “One word, Ralph,” she said, suddenly stopping short. “I feel that with you I shall be violent and exacting. Is there another woman in your life?” “Not one,” he said firmly. “A lie already!” she said bitterly. “A lie?” “What about Clarice d’Etigues? You used to meet her in the fields. You were seen together.” He was a trifle ruffled, and he said sharply: “That’s an old story.... The merest flirtation.” “You swear it?” “I swear it.” “All the better,” she said with a somber air. “All the better for her. And let her never come between us! If she does----” He drew her along, protesting: “I love you only, Josine! I have never loved anyone but you. My life begins to-day.” CHAPTER VII. THE DELIGHTS OF CAPUA The _Nonchalante_ was a barge in no way distinguished from any other barge. It was fairly old; its paint had faded; but it was well polished and kept very clean by a bargeman of the name Delâtre and his wife. From the outside there was very little to see of the _Nonchalante’s_ cargo, a few cases, some old baskets, and three or four casks. But if you had slipped down the ladder into the hold, you would have seen at a glance that she carried absolutely nothing whatever. The whole of the inside had been divided into three rooms of moderate size, uncommonly comfortable and exceedingly well-kept--two staterooms opening into a saloon. There Ralph and Josephine lived for a month. Monsieur and Madame Delâtre seemed to be morose; and they were certainly silent. Several times Ralph tried in vain to get into conversation with them. They acted as cook and butler. From time to time a small tug came to tow the _Nonchalante_ up a reach of the Seine.