"Don't be so impetuous," she lisped. He was amazed. The action chilled him, and almost excited his contempt; but he was ashamed of the emotion, and tried to suppress it. "You have kept me waiting a long time, Regina." The face she turned on him was illuminated by the moon, and he saw plainly how insignificant and meagre it had become. She tossed her head scornfully. "My name is _Helene_," she said. "I am sorry you have forgotten it;" and pouting, she turned her back. He winced. "Pardon," he stammered; "it was a slip of the tongue." This was certainly an unfortunate beginning. She made another grimace, but seemed disposed to accept his apology. "Don't let us stay here," she begged. "I'm afraid." "What of?" "Of the churchyard ... if you _will_ know." Again he had to struggle against a feeling of contempt. In all she said and did he found himself involuntarily comparing her with Regina, and the comparison was immeasurably to her disadvantage. "You know how timid I am," she said, as they retraced their steps. "It was rash of me to have chosen this place for an appointment; indeed it was exceedingly rash to come at all--and if it weren't----" Instead of finishing her sentence she cast at him an affected sidelong glance. Then, as he offered to help her over the ditch she gave a little scream and said, "No, no!" His half-defined sensation of disappointment now gave place to blank astonishment. She gazed round her nervously. "We can't stay here either," she whispered, "If I were caught here alone with a gentleman, I believe I should die of shame." "Where do you wish to go, then?" "You must decide." "Very well. Come into the wood." She clasped her hands together with an agitated old-maidish gesture. "What are you thinking of?" she exclaimed. "At night ... with a gentleman!" He rubbed his eyes. Was it really possible, what he heard and saw? Could this be Helene, the guardian angel to whom he had looked up, as to a being belonging to another world? But perhaps it was he who was to blame. Perhaps the language of innocence and virtue was no longer intelligible to him because of the fair savage who had perverted his tastes, and filled his imagination with impure pictures. "Then let us walk quietly along the highroad," he said. "But if some one comes?" "We can see that no one _is_ coming." "Yet some one might ..." He was at a loss for an answer. A silence ensued, and then he said, "Won't you take my arm?" "Oh, I don't know whether I ought," replied the love of his youth. And again they walked on in silence. It almost seemed as if they had nothing at all to say to each other. "Regina is waiting!" a voice cried within him. "How silent you are!" Helene lisped, playfully pinching his elbow with two of the finger-tips that lay on his arm. "You wicked man! Haven't you a little bit of liking left for me?"