She frowned, then threw up her hands. "I don't understand anything about you! Is this love or madness? You love a lady, who loves you--you find her here--alone--you meet--you speak--you look at each other--you take her by the hand and lead her back to her husband--and tell her that she will never see you again. And she allows it!" "Not only so," said I, "but it was she who turned her back upon me. And she did rightly." "Why did she so?" she asked me. I had to tell her that it was on her account. It made her peer with her eyes, in which, however, a keen light burned. She took a step towards me; I thought she would be in my arms; but instead she stopped short, breathing fast through her nostrils. '"Tell me this, tell me this," she said, "was she the fool, or were you?" I laughed. "My girl," I told her, "if I am a fool it is not for you to say so. But I believe, for all that, that you are paying me a compliment." She did not comprehend me, so took refuge in a quip-- tossing her head at me. She said, "I wish your worship joy of my compliment." I took her. "I intend that you shall do more than wish me joy, child. I intend that you shall give it me, and be my joy." This altered her tune. She quickly released herself and pointed to the victuals she had risked herself to get. "Let us eat," she said, "and talk afterwards. Forgive me if I troubled you just now. I have suffered and am a little over-wrought. Forgive me." I kissed her again, she not forbidding me; we put our cloaks below that enormous figure of the Thinker, and sat down to our breakfast; we ate our sausages and drank our wine. Colour came back into Virginia's grave face, light danced in her eyes; she became more herself, but with an excitement latent within her which betrayed itself in little hasty acts of affection, quick movements, half caressing, half petulant--as if she would soothe me, and, half way, change her mood and be minded to scratch. I became interested, I wondered how long she would leave our affairs in doubt; rather unkindly, I held my tongue, just for the pleasure of seeing her make the next advance. And then--in spite of my curiosity--fatigue began to creep over me. I had been thirty-six hours awake, had bid an everlasting farewell to a mistress, restored, or done my best to restore, a banished wife to her husband's arms, shot a man, saved a virgin's honour, made matrimonial advances, run for my life. Here was a good day and a half's work. After a profusion of yawns, which, try as I would, I could not stifle, I said, "Forgive me, my dear, if I go to sleep. I find myself mortally tired--and you must be in the same case. Let us lie down here and rest ourselves."