“Oh, I am not so easily alarmed!”
“I fear it has left a little cloud on your mind?”
“What must I do to reassure you?”
“Give me the kiss here which chance—”
“I will gladly do so; for if I do not, your vanity will lead you to think that I fear you.”
I took the kiss.
It is with kisses as with confidences, the first leads to another. They are multiplied, they interrupt conversation, they take its place; they scarce leave time for a sigh to escape. Silence followed. We could hear it, for silence may be heard. We rose without a word and began to walk again.
“We must go in,” said she, “for the air of the river is icy, and it is not worth while—”
“I think to go in would be more dangerous,” I answered.
“Perhaps so! Never mind, we will go in.”