The argument did not seem to carry weight, but Julia advanced no
other; she thought silence the wisest course. They had almost reached
home now; a little before they came to the gate, Joost opened the
subject of herself again. "I think sometimes you must make fun of us;
do you not sometimes in your heart laugh just a little bit?"

"I laugh at everything sometimes," she said; "myself most of all. Do
you never laugh at yourself? I expect not; you are very serious. I
will tell you what it is like: a little goblin comes out of your head
and stands in front of you; the goblin is you, a sort of you; the
other part, the part people know, sits opposite, and the goblin laughs
at it because it sees how ridiculous the other is, how grotesque and
how futile. My goblin came out into my room last night and laughed and
laughed; you would almost have heard him if you had been there."

They had reached the gate now, and as Joost held it open for her to
pass through, she saw that he had blushed to the ears at the lightly
spoken words--if he had been in her room last night; the impropriety
of them to him was evident. For a moment she blushed, too, then she
recovered herself and grew impatient with one so artificial--and yet
so simple, so self-conscious--and yet so unconscious, so desperately
stupid--and yet so uncomfortably clear-sighted.




CHAPTER V

THE EXCURSION