you have always the
choice of weapons; and choose them frankly. In so doing, you will gain
courage and assurance and the great strength that springs from harmony,
from the perfect accord of our body, our mind and our speech. I do not
say that you will necessarily conquer with that weapon, but I do say
that, even if defeated, you will, contrary to the general rule, feel
mightier and more exultant than before!"

A star appeared, a quiver ran through the trees near by and passed over
all the earth. The night was rising.

I was at my ease beside my companion; our hearts were again at one. That
love-incident, however lacking in love, had brought her nearer to me.

"I do not know which path you will choose, my Rose; but we all have two
roads by which to reach the goal for which we are making: to be or to
seem. The real lovers of life will always choose the first. They will
arrive later; perhaps they will never arrive. But, after all, what does
arriving mean?"

Rose at once retorted:

"Still, why have a goal, if not to reach it?"

The girl's practical logic amused me; and our laughter rang out in
unison across the fields.

"Rose, morally speaking, the goal is really the means which we employ to
attain it. It is a light which we voluntarily flash in front of our
footsteps. We can neither miss it nor reach it, because it moves with
us. It becomes greater or smaller or is renewed, according to the
evolution of our strength and our life...."

We had risen from the ground and, as we talked, were slowly following
the path that skirts the orchard. Rose asked:

"Cannot you more or less describe your goal, the one you are speaking
about?"

I hesitated for a moment and, almost involuntarily, murmured:

"To know a little more ... to see a little farther ... to understand a
little better...."

Rose repeated, slowly and earnestly:

"To know a little more ... to see a little...."

But I laughingly stopped her, for the words sounded too serious in our
young souls.

The orchard-gate closed between us. I was walking away, when Rose called
to me:

"Come and kiss me again...."

I ran back to her. She leant over the hedge and I could only just
distinguish her face. Then our lips met of themselves, like flowers that
touch.

For a long time, in the still air, I heard her heavy footfall.

CHAPTER XI

1

Next day, Rose was with me early in the morning:

"I could not sleep," she said. "I wanted to speak to you w