"Recite some verses for me." This appeared to be rather too much. I declined; she persisted. She certainly wanted to have the utmost pleasure, the whole orchestra of sentiment, from the moon to the rhymes of poets. In the end, I had to yield, and, as if in mockery, I recited for her a charming little poem by Louis Bouilbet, of which the following are a few strophes: "I hate the poet who with tearful eye Murmurs some name while gazing tow'rds a star, Who sees no magic in the earth or sky, Unless Lizette or Ninon be not far. "The bard who in all Nature nothing sees Divine, unless a petticoat he ties Amorously to the branches of the trees Or nightcap to the grass, is scarcely wise. "He has not heard the eternal's thunder tone, The voice of Nature in her various moods, Who cannot tread the dim ravines alone, And of no woman dream 'mid whispering woods." I expected some reproaches. Nothing of the sort. She murmured: "How true it is!" I remained stupefied. Had she understood? Our boat was gradually drawing nearer to the bank, and got entangled under a willow which impeded its progress. I drew my arm around my companion's waist, and very gently moved my lips towards her neck. But she repulsed me with an abrupt, angry movement: "Have done, pray! You are rude!" I tried to draw her towards me. She resisted, caught hold of the tree, and was near flinging us both into the water. I deemed it the prudent course to cease my importunities. She said: "I would rather have you capsized. I feel so happy. I want to dream--that is so nice." Then, in a slightly malicious tone, she added: "Have you, then, already forgotten the verses you recited for me just now?" She was right. I became silent. She went on: "Come! row!" And I plied the oars once more. I began to find the night long and to see the absurdity of my conduct. My companion said to me: "Will you make me a promise?" "Yes. What is it?" "To remain quiet, well-behaved, and discreet, if I permit you--" "What? Say what you mean!" "Here is what I mean! I want to lie down on my back at the bottom of the boat with you by my side. But I forbid you to touch me, to embrace me--in short to--to caress me." I promised. She warned me: "If you move, I'll capsize the boat." And then we lay down side by side, our eyes turned towards the sky, while the boat glided slowly through the water. We were rocked by the gentle movements of the shallop. The light sounds of the night came to us more distinctly in the bottom of the boat, sometimes causing us to start. And I felt springing up within me a strange, poignant emotion, an infinite tenderness, something like an irresistible impulse to open my arms in order to embrace, to open my heart in order to love, to give myself, to give my thoughts, my body, my life, my entire being to someone. My companion murmured, like one in a dream: