face assumed an expression of helplessness, but she smiled.
Having walked past her, he stopped, struck by her mournful smile; his heart again flew to her and he said at random, “Well, you must’ve been in town many times since then? Since that time? . . . Now I remember where there used to be flowers in the old days: on the knoll by your flagpole.”
She turned toward him; he was surprised to see that her face had turned pale with emotion.
“Will you come to us that evening?” she said. “Will you come to the party? We’re going to have a party,” she went on, coloring up again. “Some city people are coming. It will be quite soon, I’ll let you know more later. What do you say?”
He didn’t answer. That was no party for him, he didn’t belong to the Castle crowd.
“You mustn’t say no. You won’t be bored. I’ve given it some thought—I have a surprise for you.”
Pause.
“You can’t give me any more surprises,” he replied.
She bit her lip; a disconsolate smile again passed across her face.
“What do you want me to do?” she said listlessly.
“I don’t want you to do anything, Miss Victoria. I was sitting here on a stone, I’m willing to move.”
“I came here, alas, after wandering about at home all day. I could have walked along the river, by another path, then I wouldn’t have ended up just here—”
“My dear young lady, this place is yours, not mine.”
“I hurt you once, Johannes, I would like to make up for it, put it right. I do, indeed, have a surprise which I think . . . that is, which I hope you’ll be pleased with. I can’t say more. But I must ask you to show up this time.”
“If it will give you any pleasure, I shall come.”
“Will you?”
“Yes, and thank you for your kindness.”
When he reached the woods he turned and looked back. She had sat down; the basket was beside her. He didn’t go home but continued to wander up and down the road. A legion of thoughts were battling inside him. A surprise? That’s what she said, just a moment ago, her voice was trembling. An intense, nervous joy wells up in him, setting his heart thumping, and he feels as though he’s walking on air. And was it mere coincidence that she was dressed in yellow today? He had looked at her hand, where she once wore a ring—there wasn’t any ring.
An hour goes by. He was enveloped by the exhalations of field and forest; they mingled with his breath and entered his heart. He sat down, lay back with his hands folded under his head and listened for a while to the song of the cuckoo across the bay. An ardent warbling quavered in the air about him.
So it had happened to him once again! When she came up to him in the quarry in her yellow dress and blood-red hat, she looked like a roving butterfly, moving from stone to stone and settling before him. “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she said and smiled; her smile was red, her whole face lighted up, she scattered stars about her. Her throat had acquired some delicate blue veins, and the few freckles below her eyes gave her a warm complexion. She was in her twentieth year.
A surprise? What did she mean to do? Maybe she would show him his books, take out those two or three volumes to make him happy because she had bought them and cut the pages? Here you are, a crumb of comfort and attention! Do not refuse my humble offering!
He jumped to his feet and remained motionless. Victoria was coming back, her basket empty.
“You didn’t find any flowers?” he asked absently.
“No, I gave up. I wasn’t even looking, I just sat there.”
“While I remember,” he said, “you mustn’t go around thinking you’ve hurt me in some way. You have nothing to make up for with any kind of comfort.”
“I don’t?” she answered, taken aback. She thought it over, looking at him and wondering. “I don’t? I thought that time . . . I didn’t want you to bear a grudge against me forever because of what happened.”
“But I don’t bear a
Having walked past her, he stopped, struck by her mournful smile; his heart again flew to her and he said at random, “Well, you must’ve been in town many times since then? Since that time? . . . Now I remember where there used to be flowers in the old days: on the knoll by your flagpole.”
She turned toward him; he was surprised to see that her face had turned pale with emotion.
“Will you come to us that evening?” she said. “Will you come to the party? We’re going to have a party,” she went on, coloring up again. “Some city people are coming. It will be quite soon, I’ll let you know more later. What do you say?”
He didn’t answer. That was no party for him, he didn’t belong to the Castle crowd.
“You mustn’t say no. You won’t be bored. I’ve given it some thought—I have a surprise for you.”
Pause.
“You can’t give me any more surprises,” he replied.
She bit her lip; a disconsolate smile again passed across her face.
“What do you want me to do?” she said listlessly.
“I don’t want you to do anything, Miss Victoria. I was sitting here on a stone, I’m willing to move.”
“I came here, alas, after wandering about at home all day. I could have walked along the river, by another path, then I wouldn’t have ended up just here—”
“My dear young lady, this place is yours, not mine.”
“I hurt you once, Johannes, I would like to make up for it, put it right. I do, indeed, have a surprise which I think . . . that is, which I hope you’ll be pleased with. I can’t say more. But I must ask you to show up this time.”
“If it will give you any pleasure, I shall come.”
“Will you?”
“Yes, and thank you for your kindness.”
When he reached the woods he turned and looked back. She had sat down; the basket was beside her. He didn’t go home but continued to wander up and down the road. A legion of thoughts were battling inside him. A surprise? That’s what she said, just a moment ago, her voice was trembling. An intense, nervous joy wells up in him, setting his heart thumping, and he feels as though he’s walking on air. And was it mere coincidence that she was dressed in yellow today? He had looked at her hand, where she once wore a ring—there wasn’t any ring.
An hour goes by. He was enveloped by the exhalations of field and forest; they mingled with his breath and entered his heart. He sat down, lay back with his hands folded under his head and listened for a while to the song of the cuckoo across the bay. An ardent warbling quavered in the air about him.
So it had happened to him once again! When she came up to him in the quarry in her yellow dress and blood-red hat, she looked like a roving butterfly, moving from stone to stone and settling before him. “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she said and smiled; her smile was red, her whole face lighted up, she scattered stars about her. Her throat had acquired some delicate blue veins, and the few freckles below her eyes gave her a warm complexion. She was in her twentieth year.
A surprise? What did she mean to do? Maybe she would show him his books, take out those two or three volumes to make him happy because she had bought them and cut the pages? Here you are, a crumb of comfort and attention! Do not refuse my humble offering!
He jumped to his feet and remained motionless. Victoria was coming back, her basket empty.
“You didn’t find any flowers?” he asked absently.
“No, I gave up. I wasn’t even looking, I just sat there.”
“While I remember,” he said, “you mustn’t go around thinking you’ve hurt me in some way. You have nothing to make up for with any kind of comfort.”
“I don’t?” she answered, taken aback. She thought it over, looking at him and wondering. “I don’t? I thought that time . . . I didn’t want you to bear a grudge against me forever because of what happened.”
“But I don’t bear a
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