"Did you say three tunnels? Is there one more besides this one?"
"Yes—one more."
We enter the tunnel; I feel that she is very close to me, her hand touches mine. Then it grows light again and we are once more in the open.
We ride for a quarter of an hour. She is now so close to me that I
feel the warmth from her.
"You are welcome to lift my braid if you wish to," she says, "and if
you care to look at my ring—why, here it is!"
I held her braid and did not take her ring because her friend had
given it to her. She smiled and did not offer it to me again.
"Your eyes are so bright, and how white your teeth!" she said and grew confused. "I am afraid of that last tunnel—please hold my hand when we get to it. No—don't hold my hand; I didn't mean that, I was jesting; but talk to me."
I promised to do what she asked me to.
A few moments later she laughed and said:
"I was not afraid of the other tunnels; only this one frightens me."