For nearly two hours we chatted together. Daylight was long past, and the twilight had changed from scarlet and gold to a faint redness, then to a clear gray, and finally all was lost in night; but our speech flowed as uninterruptedly, peaceful, and quiet as the air that surrounded us. Gagin brought a bottle of Rhine wine, and we drank it leisurely. We could still hear the music. The notes seemed fainter and sweeter to us. Lights began to appear in the town and on the river. Assja's head drooped forward so that her hair fell over her eyes. She was silent and breathed heavily. Then she declared that she was sleepy, and went into the house; but I saw that she stood for a long time behind the closed window without lighting her lamp. Then the moon rose, and her beams quivered on the surface of the water. Everything was bright or in deep shadow, but certainly took on a different appearance. Even the wine in our glasses sparkled with a mysterious brilliancy. The wind had fallen as if it had folded its wings and were resting. Warm, spicy odors of the night rose from the ground. "It is time for me to go, or I shall not find a ferryman," I said. "Yes; it is time," Gagin repeated. We descended the footpath. Suddenly stones began to rattle down. Assja was running after us. "Aren't you asleep then?" her brother asked her. But she ran on before us without replying. The last dim lights which the students had lighted in the little inn garden showed through the branches of the trees, and lent them a gay, fantastic appearance. We found Assja at the shore talking to the old boatmen. I sprang into the boat and took leave of my new friends. Gagin promised to visit me on the next day. I shook his hand and held mine out to Assja, but she merely looked at me and nodded. The boat was pushed off and was borne down on the swift current. The ferryman, a hale old fellow, dipped his oars deep into the dark flood. "You're in the streak of moonshine--you've spoiled it," Assja called after me. I looked down. The waves were rippling darkly about the boat. "Good-by!" rang her voice again. "Till to-morrow," Gagin added. The boat touched the bank. I stepped out and looked back, but could see no one on the shore behind me. The moonshine spanned the stream again like a golden bridge, and like another good-by I caught the strains of an old country waltz. Gagin was right. I felt that all the strings of my heart trembled responsively. I crossed the dusky fields to my house, drinking great draughts of the balmy air, and giving myself up wholly to a sweet, vague feeling of expectation. I felt myself happy. But why? I wished for nothing, I thought of nothing. I was merely happy.