trembling for you."

The Baron called for the bill, asked to see the landlord and requested
him to send for the police.

After this incident perfect harmony reigned amongst us. We vied in
expressions of indignation about the rudeness of the natives. All the
suppressed wrath of jealousy and wounded vanity was poured on the heads
of those uncouth louts.

And later on, as we sat drinking punch in one of our own rooms, our old
friendship burst into fresh flames; we forgot all about the police,
who, moreover, had failed to put in an appearance.

On the following morning we met in the coffee-room, full of high
spirits, and in our inmost hearts glad to have done with a disagreeable
business, the consequences of which it would have been difficult to
foretell.

After the first breakfast we went for a walk on the banks of the canal,
in couples, and with a fair distance between us. When we had arrived at
a lock where the canal made a strong curve, the Baron waited and turned
to his wife with an affectionate, almost amorous smile.

"D'you remember this place, Marie?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, my dear, I remember," she answered, with a mingled
expression of passion and sadness.

Later on she explained his question to me.

"It was here where he first told me of his love ... one evening, under
this very birch-tree, while a brilliant shooting-star flashed across
the sky."

"That was three years ago," I completed her explanation, "and you are
reviving old memories already. You live in the past because the present
doesn't satisfy you."

"Oh, stop!" she exclaimed; "you've taken leave of your senses.... I
loathe the past, and I am grateful to my husband for having delivered
me from a vain mother whose doting tyranny was ruining me. No, I adore
my husband, he's a loyal friend to me...."

"As you like, Baroness; I'll agree with anything, to please you."

At the stated hour we went on board to return to town, and after a
delightful passage across the blue sea, with its thousands of green
islands, we arrived in Stockholm, where we parted.

