so decidedly, saying, with strong emphasis, “Non, vous n'aurez pas mes roses! non!” that he gave up the attempt. Next morning, however, he possessed himself of the withered wreath, which he found an opportunity of taking when it had been left for Irene to throw away. This little scene—that of the costumes—which is quite in Swedish character, amused us all.
We found our bath to-day more than usually refreshing and agreeable; and whilst we were afterwards enjoying the coolness in the shade of our leafy grotto, and Psyché was more than unusually interesting in her biographical annotations on life and mankind—her views of life are not very cheerful—I began to speak with her somewhat more decidedly on her own future, and of what might be expected on the part of Hercules. She herself was now not without suspicions and some uneasiness in consequence. She was seriously concerned on the subject, because, “it would have been much better if earnestness had not interfered with the sport of the present time. She did not wish to grieve him; she felt esteem for him, and could confide in him—nay, she was also grateful to him for his chivalric help in her time of need; but never—no, never, could she feel any thing more for him!”
I listened to the young girl's narratives of life's experience, which always evinced an unusually deep insight, keen observation, and a high-minded character, though at the same time, any thing but a cheerful view of life. Her own experience had been to her a severe educator; her life had been driven like a
