Part 28 (2/2)
”Poor little witch!” and an expression played upon his lips, a faintly sweet and merry smile.
”Oh! you are smiling, you are smiling,” cried the child joyfully. ”I can see you smile for the first time!” and again she would have said, ”How handsome you are!” But for the first time in her life she coloured consciously, and the words died on her lips.
Donatus laid his hand on the child's head. ”Let me feel how tall you are?” said he, ”are you quite grown up?”
”I should think so,” said the child, leaning her head on his breast.
”See I reach up to there.” Donatus felt the height with his hand.
”Only so far! Oh! then you will certainly grow taller yet. How many summers old are you then?”
”That I do not know.”
”What, child, do you not even know how old you are?”
”Wait, not by summers, but I can count by trees.”
”By trees?”
”Yes, wait a little. Every year since I could run alone my mother made me cut a cross in a young tree when the birds were building their nests. Now here in Munsterthal there was one tree,” she reckoned on her fingers, ”on the road to Marienberg there was one; two at Nauders, and five in Finstermunz, and in the Ober-Innthal three, that makes twelve, then there are three in Lechthal, and one on the way down, in Vintschgau; that makes sixteen little trees. So that since I came into the world there must have been seventeen springs, for when I cut the first cross I was so tiny that my mother had to guide my hand with the knife; so she told me, for I cannot remember it.”
”Then you are already seventeen summers old? I thought you were still quite a child,” said Donatus thoughtfully.
”And what colour are your eyes?” he went on presently. ”Brown or blue?”
”Brown I fancy, but I cannot be certain, for I have no mirror but the water, but mother used to say they shone at night like owl's eyes.”
”And your hair?”
”Reddish-brown. The children used to call me Hairy-owl when they saw me combing it, because I could cover myself all over with it like a cloak; here, feel my plaits, they are as long as I am tall. I have to fasten them up.” And she laughingly drew the thick, half unplaced locks through his hand while he wondered at their length and weight.
”And your eyebrows grow together, the true sign of a witch?”
”Alas, yes.”
”And a little rosy baby mouth?”
”Yes, may-be--I do not know.”
”Beata! oh, would I could see you!” he said for the first time since they had been together. It thrilled her with delight as he said it, she herself knew not wherefore.
CHAPTER V.
It was now noon-day; Beata and Donatus took a short rest to eat their bread. The forest waved high above their heads, and close to them the noisy Wildbach tumbled down the cliff, and the girl fetched some of the cool water for their frugal meal.
”I cannot hear you, Beata, are you there?” asked the blind man.
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