hose thinks too ..."

"Do not worry, dear Betty," the count interrupted her, "whatever Madame
Bonnechose may think. Young people like to regard love as a force,
which is elemental, irrational, but irresistible; very well, then this
force must simply be opposed by another force which may also pass for
elemental, for irrational and irresistible. Well, dear Betty, to
represent that force is now my role." He smiled his wry, mocking smile,
and went into the house to take his afternoon nap.

Billy was tired with running. "Enough," she cried to Bob. She brushed
the hair out of her hot face and thought a moment. What should she do
now?--for she must do something, something, anything but keep still and
look into the darkness that lay beyond this day. When little Miss Demme
went past her, she took her arm, saying, "Come, let's eat plums and
talk about Mr. Post." But during these afternoon hours, when the sun
rested upon the garden like a heavy, golden sleepiness, it was hard for
Billy to keep alive the fever that she now required. Finally she went
to hunt up Moritz and ask him to take her rowing on the pond in the
garden.

"What, you and I?" asked Moritz, somewhat astonished and blushing.

"You and I, of course," said Billy.

That seemed to be the right thing. Billy found it soothing to stretch
out in a half reclining position in the bow of the boat, and have
Moritz's heated, peaceful face before her, with the blue eyes that
looked at her unswervingly with satisfied devotion. The water was very
black; here and there a coating of green plants lay on top of it, which
scraped softly along the keel of the boat. How wearily the old willows
bent over the water, and a secure, contented uneventfulness dwelt here,
an uneventfulness which made Billy weak and cowardly. Why can it not go
on so, she thought. As the little crucians lie motionless on the
surface of the water in the sunshine, only stirring their fins a little
from time to time, just to feel they are alive,--that must feel good.
But suddenly she had a recollection that was like a prick of
conscience. She felt as if she were neglecting or betraying something.
She started up.

"Row to shore," she commanded. Moritz looked up in astonishment. "Yes,
yes, to shore," repeated Billy impatiently. And once on shore, when
Moritz lifted her out of the boat, Billy felt that she must do
something which would contradict the aristocratic calm of this quiet
pond, the little crucians, and t