Part 15 (1/2)

”Tell me, do you never play whist now at Sirilund?”

”Yes, often,” he answered.

Pause.

”I have not been there lately,” I said.

I rowed out to my fis.h.i.+ng grounds. The weather was mild, but oppressive.

The gnats gathered in swarms, and I had to smoke all the time to keep them off. The haddock were biting; I fished with two hooks and made a good haul. On the way back I shot a brace of guillemots.

When I came in to the quay the blacksmith was there at work. A thought occurred to me; I asked him:

”Going up my way?”

”No,” said he, ”Herr Mack's given me a bit of work to do here that'll keep me till midnight.”

I nodded, and thought to myself that it was well.

I took my fish and went off, going round by way of the blacksmith's house. Eva was there alone.

”I have been longing for you with all my heart,” I told her. And I was moved at the sight of her. She could hardly look me in the face for wonder. ”I love your youth and your good eyes,” I said. ”Punish me to-day because I have thought more of another than of you. I tell you, I have come here only to see you; you make me happy, I am fond of you. Did you hear me calling for you last night?”

”No,” she answered, frightened.

”I called Edwarda, but it was you I meant. I woke up and heard myself.

Yes, it was you I meant; it was only a mistake; I said 'Edwarda,' but it was only by accident. By Heaven, you are my dearest, Eva! Your lips are so red to-day. Your feet are prettier than Edwarda's--just look yourself and see.”

Joy such as I had never seen in her lit up her face; she made as if to turn away, but hesitated, and put one arm round my neck.

We talked together, sitting all the time on a long bench, talking to each other of many things. I said:

”Would you believe it? Edwarda has not learnt to speak properly yet; she talks like a child, and says 'more happier.' I heard her myself. Would you say she had a lovely forehead? I do not think so. She has a devilish forehead. And she does not wash her hands.”

”But we weren't going to talk of her any more.”

”Quite right. I forgot.”

A little pause. I was thinking of something, and fell silent.

”Why are your eyes wet?” asked Eva.

”She has a lovely forehead, though,” I said, ”and her hands are always clean. It was only an accident that they were dirty once. I did not mean to say what I did.” But then I went on angrily, with clenched teeth: ”I sit thinking of you all the time, Eva; but it occurs to me that perhaps you have not heard what I am going to tell you now. The first time Edwarda saw aesop, she said: 'aesop--that was the name of a wise man--a Phrygian, he was.' Now wasn't that simply silly? She had read it in a book the same day, I'm sure of it.”

”Yes,” says Eva; ”but what of it?”

”And as far as I remember, she said, too, that aesop had Xanthus for his teacher. Hahaha!”

”Yes?”