For the first time Aurelie asked a question; and it revealed the manner in which her mind had been working.
“May I ask whether, in bringing me here rather than somewhere else, you had a motive? Or was it just chance?” she said.
“The view is indeed rather gloomy,” said Ralph without answering her directly. “But all the same it displays a ruggedness and wild melancholy which are not without character. They tell me that tourists never make excursions to it. However, one can go for a row on the lake, as you see.”
He took her towards an old boat moored to a stake by a chain. She stepped into the stern and sat down without a word.
He took the oars and they moved gently over the surface. [[260]]
The water, slate-colored, did not reflect the blue of the sky but rather the somber hue of invisible clouds. From the end of the oars fell shining drops which looked to be as heavy as mercury; and it seemed astonishing that the boat could make its way through this, so to speak, metallic flood. Aurelie dipped her hand into it, but had to draw it out at once, so cold and unpleasant was the water.
“Oh!” she said and sighed.
“What is it? What’s the matter?” asked Ralph.
“Nothing—or at least—I don’t know.”
“You’re troubled—moved.”