Yasma seemed glad enough to accompany me; but though she shared in my relief at breaking free from the crowd, her conduct was still peculiar. She did not show any of the happiness natural to a bride, but was moody and sad. She answered my questions and remarks only with monosyllables, yet was by no means cold or indifferent, and gave evidence of her affection by the clinging closeness with which she held my arm. Having reached the woods, we seated ourselves side by side on a log at the borders of some fragrant white-flowering bushes; and there we began our wedded life in an unlooked-for fashion. "Well, Yasma, we have come to the end of our separate roads," I reminded her, patting her hand and trying to conceal my anxiety. "From now on we shall follow one path together. Surely, it shall always make us happy to look back upon this day. Shall it not, Yasma?" Yasma's response was far from reassuring. A long silence intervened, while she sat with head bent low and eyes averted. Suddenly, as I sought to draw her close, I became aware that her whole form was quivering. "Yasma!" I cried, dismayed and bewildered, as I took the weeping girl into my arms. "Yasma, Yasma dear, what is wrong?" "Oh, I'm so afraid, so afraid!" she wailed, as she clung to me, her face still turned away. "Please, please take good care of me! I'm so afraid--I don't know why--I can't help it!" Almost desperately she held me, and buried her face against my breast, and sobbed and sobbed while I strove in vain to console her. "But what can be the matter, Yasma?" I asked, beseechingly, when the storm was beginning to spend itself. "I don't understand--I don't understand at all!" "Oh, I don't understand, either!" she burst forth, vehemently. "It's silly of me, simply silly! There's no reason, not the least! Oh, you shouldn't care for me, you shouldn't, you shouldn't!" And the tears came in a renewed torrent, and it was minutes before they had subsided again. "Don't pay any attention to me--I'm too foolish!" she murmured, as she sat clinging to me, her face still pitifully moist. "I know I shouldn't act like this, but everything seems so strange and new. And I keep thinking that what we've done today can never be taken back, never, never! That thought frightens me. What if--what if Yulada should still be angry with us?" Of course, I strove my best to soothe away her fears. I told her that we had nothing to dread from Yulada; that we had acted wisely and should always be glad of it. Yet, even as I spoke, I could not be convinced of the truth of my own words. And I am afraid that I did not convince her. For she cut me short with an outburst such as I had not expected even from her.