g themselves on their early rising.

Nicolete was not quite ready, so I had to go listen to the lark, about
whom, alas! I could find nothing to say to my pocket-book, before
Nicolete, armed cap-a-pie with stick and knapsack, appeared at the door
of her chalet.

The Obstacle was there to see us start. She and Nicolete exchanged many
kisses which were hard to bear, and the first quarter of an hour of our
journey was much obstructed by the farewells of her far-fluttering
handkerchief. When at last we were really alone, I turned and looked
at Nicolete striding manfully at my side, just to make sure that it was
really true.

"Well, we're in for it now," I said; "aren't you frightened?"

"Oh, it's wonderful," she replied; "don't spoil it by talking."

And I didn't; for who could hope to compete with the sun, who was
making the whole dewy world shake with laughter at his brilliancy, or
with the birds, any one of whom was a poet at least equal to Herrick?

Presently we found ourselves at four crossroads, with a four-fingered
post in the centre. We had agreed to leave our destination to chance.
We read the sign-post.

"Which shall we choose?" I said,--

"Aucassin, true love and fair, To what land do we repair?"

"Don't you think this one," she replied, "this one?--To the Moon!"

"Certainly, we couldn't find a prettier place; but it's a long way," I
replied, looking up at the sky, all roses and pearls,--"a long way from
the Morning Star to the Moon."

"All the longer to be free," cried Nicolete, recklessly.

"So be it," I assented. "Allons--to the Moon!"

CHAPTER VIII

THE KIND OF THING THAT HAPPENS IN THE MOON

Two friends of my youth, with whom it would be hopeless to attempt
competition, have described the star-strewn journey to the moon. It is
not for me to essay again where the ingenious M. Jules Verne and Mr.
William Morris have preceded me. Besides, the journey is nowadays much
more usual, and therefore much less adventurous, than when those
revered writers first described it. In the middle ages a journey to the
moon with a woman you loved was a very perilous matter indeed. Even in
the last century the roads were much beset with danger; but in our own
day, like most journeys, it is accomplished with ease and safety in a
few hours.

However, to the latter-day hero, whose appetite for dragons is not
keen, this absence of adventure is perhaps rather pleasurable than
otherwise; and I confess that