A late, harsh blackbird smote him with her wings, As through the glade, dim in the dark, she flew…. So she read. She made a curious, pleased sound, and remarked to herself that she thought these verses very fine. But she watched the road for Siegmund. And now she takes the scissors on her thumb … Oh then, no more unto my lattice come. “H’m!” she said, “I really don’t know whether I like that or not.” Therefore she read the piece again before she looked down the road. “He really is very late. It is absurd to think he may have got drowned; but if he were washing about at the bottom of the sea, his hair loose on the water!” Her heart stood still as she imagined this. “But what nonsense! I like these verses _very_ much. I will read them as I walk along the side path, where I shall hear the bees, and catch the flutter of a butterfly among the words. That will be a very fitting way to read this poet.” So she strolled to the gate, glancing up now and again. There, sure enough, was Siegmund coming, the towel hanging over his shoulder, his throat bare, and his face bright. She stood in the mottled shade. “I have kept you waiting,” said Siegmund. “Well, I was reading, you see.” She would not admit her impatience. “I have been talking,” he said. “Talking!” she exclaimed in slight displeasure. “Have you found an acquaintance even here?” “A fellow who was quite close friends in Savoy days; he made me feel queer-sort of _Doppelgänger_, he was.” Helena glanced up swiftly and curiously. “In what way?” she said. “He talked all the skeletons in the cupboard-such piffle it seems, now! The sea is like a harebell, and there are two battleships lying in the bay. You can hear the voices of the men on deck distinctly. Well, have you made the plans for today?” They went into the house to breakfast. She watched him helping himself to the scarlet and green salad. “Mrs Curtiss,” she said, in rather reedy tone, “has been very motherly to me this morning; oh, very motherly!” Siegmund, who was in a warm, gay mood, shrank up. “What, has she been saying something about last night?” he asked. “She was very much concerned for me-was afraid something dreadful had happened,” continued Helena, in the same keen, sarcastic tone, which showed she was trying to rid herself of her own mortification. “Because we weren’t in till about eleven?” said Siegmund, also with sarcasm. “I mustn’t do it again. Oh no, I mustn’t do it again, really.” “For fear of alarming the old lady?” he asked. “‘You know, dear, it troubles _me_ a good deal … but if I were your _mother_, I don’t know _how_ I should feel,’” she quoted. “When one engages rooms one doesn’t usually stipulate for a stepmother to nourish one’s conscience,” said Siegmund. They laughed, making jest of the affair; but they were both too thin-skinned. Siegmund writhed within himself with mortification, while Helena talked as if her teeth were on edge.