the opposite. The knowledge of woman, the lust of the flesh, transforms
man into a beast. You know the classics so well and are so fond of
them--there is no apter allegory than the story of Semele, who desired
once to see her lover, Jupiter, without the weaknesses and infirmities
of the flesh--as the Lord of High Heaven--and perished at the sight."

"Very well," said she softly, "you may despise me and say I am like
Semele. I prefer a warm-hearted, loving beast to an icy-cold and proud
philosopher. Anyhow, I am very fond of animals," and, lost in dreamy
thought, she stroked Fido, who began to gasp and choke with delight,
and eagerly licked the caressing hand. After a pause she resumed
slowly--"I should never have thought you were such a desperate
woman-hater. You have heaped insult on my sex and consequently on me. I
expect you to make reparation for that by--being very nice to me."

She looked him deep in the eyes and stretched out her hand, which he
seized in confusion and pressed. Suddenly he let it drop. The countess
looked up in surprise, and following Wilhelm's gaze, she caught sight
of the hotel wit and his lady coming along the deep pathway that ran
round the foot of the wooded hill, on the slope of which they were
sitting.

"Oh,--what do these common people matter?" exclaimed the countess in a
tone of vexation. "And what is the harm, if they do see us? They will
only boast, when they get back to their shop in Paris, that they saw a
great lady in Ault."

But for all that, the dangerously sweet spell of the moment was broken,
and did not return before Anne arrived, whom Fido ran sneezing and
wriggling to meet.

For the rest of the day Wilhelm was silent and thoughtful, seeming to
awake from a dream each time the countess spoke to him at dinner. She
was perfectly aware of what was going on in him, and sought by looks,
words, and manner to increase the effects of the afternoon's
conversation. When the meal was over she took Wilhelm's arm again and
asked--totally unconcerned that the rest of the company exchanged
glances--"What are you going to do this evening?"

"I thought of taking a little walk on the shore," he stammered shyly.

"Oh, selfish creature!--and leave me all alone, though I might be bored
to death? No, come up to my room. You have never paid me a visit yet.
Anne will get us some tea, and we can talk."

The countess had two rooms on the first floor, most plainly furnished,
without a carpet or