Through the half-shut windows soft light stole in and gilded the walls. Infinite beatitude seemed to reign in the room veiled by that mist of gold, fragrant with scent, lulled to a repose unshaken by the noises of the distant world. In the profound sweetness of the nuptial chamber Regina felt herself at moments conquered by that somnolent beatitude. Antonio's searching question had its echo in her soul also. What was it that they lacked? They were both of them young and strong; Antonio loved her ardently, blindly. He lived in her. And he was so handsome! His soft hands, his passionate eyes, had a magic which often succeeded in intoxicating her. And yet in those delicious mornings, at the moments when she seemed happiest, while Antonio caressed her hair, pulling it down and studying it like some precious thing, her face would suddenly cloud, and she would re-commence her extravagant speeches. "What are we doing with our life?" Antonio was not alarmed. "What are we doing? We are living; we love, we work, eat, sleep, take our walks, and when we can we go to the play!" "But that isn't living! Or, at least, it's a useless life, and I'm sick of it!" "Then what do you want to be doing?" "I don't know. I'd like to fly! I don't mean sentimentally, I mean really. To fly out of the window, in at the window! I'd like to invent the way!" "I've thought of it myself sometimes." "You know nothing about it!" she said, rather piqued. "No, no! I want to do something you couldn't understand one bit; which, for that matter, I don't understand myself!" "That's very fine!" "It's like thirsting for an unfindable drink with a thirst nothing else can assuage. If you had once felt it----" "Oh, yes, I have felt it." "No, you can't have felt it! You know nothing about it." "You must explain more clearly." "Oh, never mind! You don't understand, and that's enough. Let my hair alone, please." "I say, what a lot of split hairs you have! You ought to have them cut, I was telling you----" "What do I care about hair? It's a perfectly useless thing." "Well," he said, after pretending to seek and to find a happy thought, "why don't you become a tram-conductor?" and he imitated the rumble of the tram and the gestures of the conductor. "I won't demean myself by a reply," she said, and moved away from him; but presently repented and said-- "Do the little bird!" "I don't know how to do the little bird!" "Yes, you do. Go on, like a dear!" "You're making a fool of me. I understand that much." "You don't understand a bit! You do the little bird so well that I like to see you!" He drew in his lips, puffed them out, opened and shut them like the beak of a callow bird. She laughed, and he laughed for the pleasure of seeing her laugh, then said-- "What babes we are! If they put that on the stage--good Lord, think of the hisses!"