and of the thousand and one occurrences,
daily repeated, that made up their lives. She would have liked to creep
away, to hide herself in an utter seclusion; while, instead, it was her
lot to assist, hour after hour, at making much of what, in the depths
of her soul, did not concern her at all. Nothing, she felt, would ever
really concern her again. She gazed fixedly before her, at him, too,
but without seeing him, till her sight was blurred; trees and sky,
stream and rushes, swam together in a formless maze. And all of a
sudden, while she was still blind, there ran through her such an
intense feeling of aversion, such a complete satedness with all she had
of late felt and known, that she involuntarily took a step backwards,
and pressed her palms together, in order to hinder herself from
screaming aloud. She could bear it no longer. In a flash, she grasped
that she was unable, utterly unable, to face the day that was before
her. She knew in advance every word, every look and embrace that it
held for her: rather than undergo them afresh, she would throw herself
into the water at her feet. Anywhere, anywhere!--only to get away, to
be alone, to cover her face and see no more! Her hand went to her
throat; her breath refused to come; she shivered so violently that she
was afraid she would fall to the ground.

Maurice, all unsuspecting, sat with his back to her, and laced his
boots.

But he was startled into an exclamation, when he climbed the bank and
saw the state she was in.

"Louise! Good Heavens, what's the matter? Are you ill?"

He took her by the arm, and shook her a little, to arrest her attention.

"Maurice! ... no!" Her voice was hoarse. "Oh, let me go home!"

He repeated the words in amazed alarm. "But what is it, darling? Are
you ill? Are you cold?--that you're trembling like this?"

"No ... yes. Oh, I want to go home!--back to Leipzig."

"Why, of course, if you want to. At once."

The rushes lay forgotten on the ground. Without further words, they
hastened to the inn. There, Maurice helped her to throw her things into
the bag she had not wholly unpacked, and, having paid the bill, led
her, with the same feverish haste, through the woods and town to the
railway-station. He was full of distressed concern for her, but hardly
dared to show it, for, to all his questions, she only shook her head.
Walking at his side, she dug her nails into her palms till she felt the
blood come, in her effort to conceal and s