'I thought of you, too, Ferdinand, all day, all night. And I longed for you to come back. I did not know till you went that--I loved you.' 'Oh, Valentia!' He took her in his arms and pressed her passionately to him. 'No, for God's sake!' She tore herself away. But again he took her in his arms, and this time he kissed her on the mouth. She tried to turn her face away. 'I shall kill myself, Ferdinand!' 'What do you mean?' 'In those long hours that I sat here looking towards you, I felt I loved you--I loved you as passionately as you said you loved me. But if you came back, and--anything happened--I swore that I would throw myself in the canal.' He looked at her. 'I could not--live afterwards,' she said hoarsely. 'It would be too horrible. I should be--oh, I can't think of it!' He took her in his arms again and kissed her. 'Have mercy on me!' she cried. 'You love me, Valentia.' 'Oh, it is nothing to you. Afterwards you will be just the same as before. Why cannot men love peacefully like women? I should be so happy to remain always as we are now, and never change. I tell you I shall kill myself.' 'I will do as you do, Valentia.' 'You?' 'If anything happens, Valentia,' he said gravely, 'we will go down to the canal together.' She was horrified at the idea; but it fascinated her. 'I should like to die in your arms,' she said. For the second time he bent down and took her hands and kissed them. Then she went alone into the silent church, and prayed. VII They went home. Ferdinand was so pleased to be at the hotel again, near her. His bed seemed so comfortable; he was so happy, and he slept, dreaming of Valentia. The following night they went for their walk, arm in arm; and they came to the canal. From the bridge they looked at the water. It was very dark; they could not hear it flow. No stars were reflected in it, and the trees by its side made the depth seem endless. Valentia shuddered. Perhaps in a little while their bodies would be lying deep down in the water. And they would be in one another's arms, and they would never be separated. Oh, what a price it was to pay! She looked tearfully at Ferdinand, but he was looking down at the darkness beneath them, and he was intensely grave. And they wandered there by day and looked at the black reflection of the trees. And in the heat it seemed so cool and restful.... They abandoned their work. What did pictures and books matter now? They sauntered about the meadows, along shady roads; they watched the black and white cows sleepily browsing, sometimes coming to the water's edge to drink, and looking at themselves, amazed. They saw the huge-limbed milkmaids come along with their little stools and their pails, deftly tying the cow's hind legs that it might not kick. And the steaming milk frothed into the pails and was poured into huge barrels, and as each cow was freed, she shook herself a little and recommenced to browse.