The little trip seemed to have had a most happy effect upon Bruno, as upon all the others. He had lost much of his sombre reserve; he sought out company which he had formerly avoided, in common with Oswald, and persuaded his teacher even to take part in promenades and other joint excursions of pleasure. He did not suspect that Oswald was by no means making a sacrifice when he yielded to his entreaties, but only pretended to be reluctant in order to excuse himself in his own heart for his inconsistency. When Oswald teased Bruno about this new interest in persons and things which had formerly been indifferent to him, the latter replied that he did not know what had happened to him; but that he felt like a bird who, after being kept in a cage, had recovered his freedom; like a flower when the sun was coming out, after storm and rain. And really Bruno was merry like a bird, and, in his joyousness, beautiful like a flower which is just opening to the light of day. One could not help admiring the glorious boy; his kind ways were as irresistibly charming as his defiance was repelling and at times offensive. All agreed on this one point, that a great change had taken place in Bruno, but how it had been brought about no one knew and no one suspected. And yet the cause would hardly have escaped an acute observer, nor Oswald himself, if he had not been fully occupied with his own affairs. The very first conversation with Bruno on the evening of his arrival might have furnished him the key. As then Helen's name was continually reappearing in his recitals, so now all he said and did had some reference to Helen, although he was instinctively careful to place others in the foreground, and to appear least interested in Helen herself--just as a bird tries to lure the pursuer away from his nest by his anxious fluttering to and fro. For not only shame is born in secret; love springs forth in the same way, especially when the heart that bears it is still young and innocent, so innocent that it hardly knows what is going on, and only feels the one thing, that a god has touched it. "What is the matter with the boy?" they asked, when they saw how his eyes shone, how bold and proud his carriage was, how elastic his step; when they heard his voice, which was now as soft as the evening breeze, and then, in the excitement of a game, or whenever his energy was roused, as clear and powerful as the sound of a trumpet.