"Infinite passion, and the pain
Of finite hearts that yearn."
For has she helped him to hold the thread? No; she too has been the sport of "the old trick." And even of that he cannot be wholly sure:
"I wonder do you feel to-day
As I have felt . . . ?"
In the enchanting Lovers' Quarrel we find a less metaphysical pair than those whom we have followed in their quest. This man has not taken her for granted, but neither has he frightened her with the mystery of her own and his elusiveness. No; these two have just had, very humanly and gladly, the "time of their lives"! All through the winter they have frolicked: there never was a more enchanting love than she, and plainly he has charmed her just as much. The same sort of fun appealed to them both at the same moment—games out of straws of their own devising; drawing one another's faces in the ashes of the hearth:
"Free on each other's flaws,
How we chattered like two church daws!"
And then the Times would come in—and the Emperor has married his Mlle. de Montijo!
"There they sit ermine-stoled,
And she powders her hair with gold."
Or a travel-book arrives from the library—and the two heads are close together over the pictures.
"Fancy the Pampas' sheen!
Miles and miles of gold and green
Where the sunflowers blow
In a solid glow,
And to break now and then the screen—
Black neck and eyeballs keen,
Up a wild horse leaps between!"