nce chamber, and chase each other through the secret
passages in the walls. At Saint-Graal we confined ourselves to the
garden. Her head was full of the queerest romantic notions. You
couldn't persuade her that the white irises that grew about our pond
weren't enchanted princesses. One day we filled a bottle with holy
water at the Church, and then she sprinkled them with it, pronouncing
an incantation. "If ye were born as ye are, remain as ye are; but if
ye were born otherwise, resume your original shapes." They remained
as they were; but that didn't shake her faith. Something was amiss
with the holy water, or with the form of her incantation.'

She laughed softly. 'Then she was nice? You liked her?' she asked.

'Oh, I was passionately in love with her. All children are
passionately in love with somebody, aren't they? A real _grande
passion_. It began when I was about ten.' He broke off, to laugh. 'Do
you care for love stories? I'm a weary, wayworn man; but upon my word,
I've never in all my life felt any such intense emotion for a woman,
anything that so nearly deserved to be called _love_, as I felt for
Helene de la Granjolaye when I was an infant. Night after night I used
to lie awake thinking how I loved her--longing to tell her
so--planning how I would, next day--composing tremendous
declarations--imagining her response--and waiting in a fever of
impatience for the day to come. But then, when I met her, I didn't
dare. Bless me, how I used to thrill at sight of her, with love, with
fear. How I used to look at her face, and pine to kiss her. If her
hand touched mine, I almost fainted. It's very strange that children
before their teens should be able to experience the whole gamut of the
spiritual side of love; and yet it's certain.'

She was looking at him with intent eyes, her lips parted a little.
'But you did tell her at last, I hope?' she said, anxiously.

He had got warmed to his subject, and her interest inspired him. 'Oh,
at last! It was here--in this very spot. I had picked a lot of
celandine, and stuck them about in her hair, where they shone like
stars. Oh, the joy of being allowed to touch her hair! It made
utterance a necessity. I fumbled and stammered, and blushed and
thrilled, and almost choked. And at last I blurted it out. "I love you
so. I love you so." That--after the eloquent declarations I had
composed overnight!'

'And she?'

'She answered quite simply, "Et moi, je t'aime tant, aussi." And