ineffably precious to Thyrsis; and when they met, their hands would
come together--it was as natural for them to embrace as for the
flowers to grow. And this would lead to moods of weakness and
satisfaction--not to that divine discontent, that rage of impatience
which Thyrsis craved. It seemed to him that Corydon grew more and
more in love with him, and more willing to cling to him; and he was
savage because of his own complaisance. They would spend hours,
exchanging endearments and whispering youthful absurdities; and
then, the next day, he would write a note of protest, and Corydon
would be wild with misery, and would tear up his love-notes, and
vow in tears that he should never touch her hand again. Now and then
he would try to suggest to her that what she needed for the
fulfillment of her life was not a madman like himself, but a husband
who would love her and cherish her, as other women were loved and
cherished; and there was nothing in all the world that galled her
quite so much as this.

Section 9. There came a time when all these happenings could no
longer be hid from parents. This unthinkable "engagement" had to be
announced, and the furies of grief and rage and despair unchained.
No one could realize the change that had come over Corydon--Cory-don,
the meek and long-suffering, who now was turned to granite, and
immovable as the everlasting hills. As for Thyrsis, all kinds of
madness had come from him, and were expected from him. But even he
was appalled at the devastation which this thunderbolt caused.

"You have ruined your career! You have ruined your career!" was the
cry that rang in his ears all day. And he knew what the world meant
by this. Young men of talent who wished to rise in the world did not
burden themselves with wives at the age of twenty; they waited until