But I was fiercely, madly happy. For the moment no thought of the future, of its penalties and duties, shadowed me. I was content to be here with this brave and lovely girl, alone with her--a comrade and friend. Since nothing more was possible,--since to friend and comrade I could not add lover,--I would yet be happy in what was granted me. And that I must be content with this, I saw too well--not in any coldness or aversion, but by a subtle change of manner, the merest nuance of expression, which at the same time kept me near to her, and yet held me away. On the tower she had permitted my endearments, had even raised her lips to mine; but that was looking in the face of death at a moment when we need take no thought for the future--at a moment when she had wished to comfort me, and herself stood in need of comfort. But we had emerged from that shadow; there was the future again to be reckoned with, and between us an impalpable but invulnerable veil was stretched which I must never hope to pass. We reached the brook, and I placed two broad flat stones at the edge of a little pool where the lucid water paused for an instant before pursuing its course along the rocky way, and watched her while she stooped and drank. She had cast aside her cloak, and I noted with a clear delight the soft curve of her arms, the slim grace of neck and shoulders. “Now it is your turn, my friend,” she said, and made room for me. I knelt and drank too. How good the water tasted! How it cleansed and purified the parched throat! How it heartened the whole body! “And now I shall use some of it externally,” she said, as I stood aside; and I sat down on a nearby rock to enjoy the spectacle. She rolled back her sleeves and bound her hair in a tight coil upon her head. Then from some hidden pocket she produced a dainty handkerchief, and dipping it in the stream, applied it vigorously to face and neck. I saw her skin glow and brighten under touch of the cool water; she seemed like a nymph---- Suddenly she looked aside and caught my eyes. “Is this the first time you have seen a lady at her toilet, M. de Tavernay?” she asked, witheringly. “The very first, mademoiselle.” “And you feel no compunctions of conscience for keeping your seat there?” “None in the least,” I answered calmly. “I must see that no enemy surprises you.” “From which direction would an enemy come?” “Probably from down the valley.” “You have eyes, then, in the back of your head? How fortunate!” “Oh, I glance around from time to time,” I explained coolly. “Surely you would not deny me the pleasure I have in looking at you! That would be heartless!” She glanced at me again, with a little pout. “But I should think that you yourself would feel the need of a bath,” she retorted. “So that you might feel some pleasure in looking at me?” I asked. “I know I must appear a most hideous scoundrel. My skin is fairly stiff with the dirt upon it; and yet I dare not so much as touch it with water.”