thoughts, nor could any kiss--were it even such a
kiss as Venus promised to the betrayer of Psyche--even in its fiercest
delirium, be other than dross compared with the wild white peace of
those silent hours when we lay thus married and maiden side by side.

CHAPTER X

HOW ONE MAKES LOVE AT THIRTY

My sleeplessness while Nicolete slept had not been all ecstasy, for I
had come to a bitter resolution; and next morning, when we were once
more on our way, I took a favourable opportunity of conveying it to
Nicolete.

"Nicolete," I said, as we rested awhile by the roadside, "I have
something serious to say to you."

"Yes, dear," she said, looking rather frightened.

"Well, dear, it is this,--our love must end with our holiday. No good
can come of it."

"But oh, why? I love you."

"Yes, and I love you,--love you as I never thought I could love again.
Yet I know it is all a dangerous dream,--a trick of our brains, an
illusion of our tastes."

"But oh, why? I love you."

"Yes, you do to-day, I know; but it couldn't last. I believe I could
love you for ever; but even so, it wouldn't be right. You couldn't go
on loving me. I am too old, too tired, too desillusione, perhaps too
selfish."

"I will love you always!" said girl Nicolete.

"Whereas you," I continued, disregarding the lovely refrain of her
tear-choked voice, "are standing on the wonderful threshold of life,
waiting in dreamland for the dawn. And it will come, and with it the
fairy prince, with whom you shall wander hand in hand through all its
fairy rose-gardens; but I, dear Nicolete,--I am not he."

Nicolete did not speak.

"I know," I continued, pressing her hand, "that I may seem young enough
to talk like this, but some of us get through life quicker than others,
and when we say, 'It is done,' it is no use for onlookers to say, 'Why,
it is just beginning!' Believe me, Nicolete, I am not fit husband for
you."

"Then shall I take no other," said Nicolete, with set face.

"Oh, yes, you will," I rejoined; "let but a month or two pass, and you
will see how wise I was, after all. Besides, there are other reasons,
of which there is no need to speak--"

"What reasons?"

"Well," I said, half laughing, "there is the danger that, after all, we
mightn't agree. There is nothing so perilously difficult as the daily
intercourse of two people who love each other. You are too young to
realise its danger. And I couldn't bear to see our love worn aw