They talked, and were silent, and talked again with out question, or sadness, or regret, or reproach; she mocking even at themselves, mocking at this ‘change’—‘Why, and yet without it, would you ever even have dreamed once a poor fool of a Frenchman went to his restless grave for me—for me? Need we understand? Were we told to pry? Who made us human must be human too. Why must we take such care, and make such a fret—this soul? I know it, I know it; it is all we have—“to save,” they say, poor creatures. No, never to _spend_, and so they daren’t for a solitary instant lift it on the finger from its cage. Well, we have; and now, soon, back it must go, back it must go, and try its best to whistle the day out. And yet, do you know, perhaps the very freedom does a little shake its—its monotony. It’s true, you see, they have lived a long time; these Worldly Wisefolk they were wise before they were swaddled.... ‘There, and you are hungry?’ she asked him, laughing in his eyes. ‘Of course, of course you are—scarcely a mouthful since that first still wonderful supper. And you haven’t slept a wink, except like a tired-out child after its first party, on that old garden chair. I sat and watched, and yes, almost hoped you’d never wake in case—in case. Come along, see, down there. I can’t go home just yet. There’s a little old inn—we’ll go and sit down there—as if we were really trying to be romantic! I know the woman quite well; we can talk there—just the day out.’ They sat at a little table in the garden of ‘The Cherry Trees,’ its thick green apple branches burdened with ripened fruit. And Grisel tried to persuade him to eat and drink, ‘for to-morrow we die,’ she said, her hands trembling, her face as it were veiled with a faint mysterious light. ‘There are dozens and dozens of old stories, you know,’ she said, leaning on her elbows, ‘dozens and dozens, meaning only us. You must, you must eat; look, just an apple. We’ve got to say good-bye. And faintness will double the difficulty.’ She lightly touched his hand as if to compel him to smile with her. ‘There, I’ll peel it; and this is Eden; and soon it will be the cool of the evening. And then, oh yes, the voice will come. What nonsense I am talking. Never mind.’ They sat on in the quiet sunshine, and a spider slid softly through the air and with busy claws set to its nets; and those small ghosts the robins went whistling restlessly among the heavy boughs. A child presently came out of the porch of the inn into the garden, and stood with its battered doll in its arms, softly watching them awhile. But when Grisel smiled and tried to coax her over, she burst out laughing and ran in again.