a large dark sunshade,
an open book on her lap, and her eyes fixed on the smooth, bright
surface of the ocean. She noticed Wilhelm, and smiled and nodded
pleasantly, almost before he could bow to her. There was something of
invitation in her nod, which, however, he did not follow, he could not
have said exactly why. Confused, and a prey to all sorts of undefined
emotions, he continued his walk till he reached the point where the
waves, breaking at the very foot of the cliff, prevented his going any
further. As he turned, ho remembered that he would have to pass her
again, and considered if he could not avoid it by keeping close to the
cliff and so get behind her. But why go out of his way to avoid her?
That was driving shyness to the verge of churlishness. She was friendly
toward him, why repay her kindness by such foolish and uncalled-for
reserve? And ashamed, almost indignant at himself, he came to a sudden
determination, and directed his steps straight toward the lady. She had
watched him all the time, and now smiled to him from afar, as she saw
him making for her.

When he got up to her he stood still and raised his hat. She saved him
the embarrassment of making a beginning by saying at once in the most
natural tone in the world:

"How nice of you to come and keep me company for a little while! Won't
you sit down on this plaid?"

He thanked her, and did as he was bid, seating himself on the thick,
soft rug. His head was shaded by the great parasol, the sun warmed his
knees.

"Are you a great admirer of the sea?" asked the lady.

"I hardly know myself yet. I must make its nearer acquaintance first,"
answered Wilhelin.

"I confess that it leaves me quite unmoved. No, not that exactly, for I
am rather vexed at it for giving so many idiots an excuse for ranting
and absurd sentimentality. Now just look at all these people on the
beach. In reality they are bored to extinction, and enjoy the
Boulevards infinitely more than this expanse of water, which is quite
meaningless to them. And yet you have only to mention the word--the
sea--and they will instantly turn up their eyes and start off repeating
the lesson they have learned by rote about their rapture and
enthusiasm, just like a musical box which grinds out a tune when you
press a button at the top. The sea was invented by a few romantically
inclined poets. But I deny that there is any truth in then rhapsodies;
the sea is hopelessly monotonous, and monotony exclu