ogether."

"Yes, you know that it is thus. But...." Now a greenish-yellow lizard
runs along the edge of the balcony. It stops and looks about The tail
moves....

If one could only find a stone...

Look out, my four-legged friend.

No, you cannot hit them, they hear the stone long before it reaches
them. Anyhow he got frightened.

But the pages disappeared at the same moment.

The blue one had been sitting there so prettily. And in her eyes lay
a yearning which was genuine and unconscious and in her movements a
nervousness that was full of presentiment. Around her mouth was a faint
expression of pain, when she spoke, and even more when she listened to
the soft, somewhat low voice of the yellow page, which spoke to her
from the balcony in words that were provocative and at the same time
caressing, that had a note of mockery and a note of sympathy.

And doesn't it seem now as if both were still here!

They are there, and have carried on the action of the _proverbe_, while
they were gone. They have spoken of that vague young love which never
finds peace but unceasingly flits through all the lands of foreboding
and through all the heavens of hope; this love that is dying to satisfy
itself in the powerful, fervent glow of a single great emotion! Of this
they spoke; the younger one in bitter complaint, the elder one with
regretful tenderness. Now the latter said--the yellow one to the
blue--that he should not so impatiently demand the love of a woman to
capture him and hold him bound.

"For believe me," he said, "the love that you will find in the clasp of
two white arms, with two eyes as your immediate heaven and the certain
bliss of two lips--this love lies nigh unto the earth and unto the dust.
It has exchanged the eternal freedom of dreams for a happiness which is
measured by hours and which hourly grows older. For even if it always
grows young again, yet each time it loses one of the rays which in a
halo surround the eternal youth of dreams. No, you are happy."

"No, you are happy," answered the blue one, "I would give a world, were
I as you are."

And the blue one rises, and begins to walk down the road to the
Campagna, and the yellow one looks after him with a sad smile and says
to himself: "No, he is happy!"

But far down the road the blue one turns round once more toward the
balcony, and raising his barret calls: "No, you are happy!"

*****

There should have been roses.

And now a breath of wind m