says no! It will rest him, I am sure."

And rising to her feet, Leonora took two steps forward in the white
boat, though threatening to upset it, and kissed Rafael several times.
He lay aside the oars and laughingly defended himself.

"Madcap! We'll never get there at this rate. With rests like this we
make very little progress, and I've promised to take you to my island."

Once again he bent to the oars, heading out toward midstream over the
moonlit water, as if to vouchsafe the groves on either bank an equal
pleasure in the romantic escapade.

It had been one of her caprices--a desire repeated during his visits to
the Blue House on some afternoons, in the presence of dona Pepa and the
maid, and on every night, as he passed through the opening in the hedge
where Leonora's bare arms were waiting for him in the darkness.

For more than a week Rafael had been living in a sweet dream. Never had
he imagined that life could be so beautiful. It was a mood of delicious
abstraction. The city no longer existed for him. The people that moved
about him seemed like so many spectres: his mother and Remedios were
invisible beings. Their words he would hear and answer without taking
the trouble to look up.

He spent his days in feverish impatience for night to come--that the
family might finish supper and leave him free to go to his room, whence
he would cautiously tip-toe, as soon as the house was silent and
everybody was asleep.

Indifferent to everything foreign to his love, he did not realize the
effect his conduct was having on his mother. She had noticed that his
door was locked all morning while he slept off the fatigue of a
sleepless night. She had already tired of asking him whether he was ill,
and of getting the same reply:

"No, mama; I've been working nights; an important study I'm preparing."

It was all his mother could do on such occasions to restrain herself
from shouting "Liar!" Two nights she had gone up to his room, to find
the door locked and the keyhole dark. Her son was not inside. She would
lie awake for him now; and every morning, somewhat before dawn, she
would hear him softly open the outside door and tip-toe up the stairs,
perhaps in his stocking-feet.

The female Spartan said nothing however, hoarding her indignation in
silence, complaining only to don Andres of the recrudescence of a
madness that was upsetting all her plans. Through his numerous henchmen
the counselor kept watch upon the young