They lay in a field that was surrounded by trees. The high weeds hid
them. Goldenrod hung over them. "Life can't go on--"
"Like this," he finished for her.
"Well--can it?"
"It's up to you, Roseanne. I never knew there were women--"
"Like me? You should have said 'was a woman.'"
"Would you run away with me?"
"Never."
"Aren't we just hunting for an emotion?"
"Perhaps. Because there was a day--one day--in the pines--"
He nodded. "Different from these other two. That's because of the tragic
formation of life. There is only one first, only one commencement, only
one virginity. Then--"
"Character sets in."
"Then it becomes living. It may remain beautiful, but it cannot remain
original."
"You'd be hard to live with."
"Why, Roseanne?"
"Because you're so determined not to have an illusion."
"And you--"
"Go on. Say it. I'm so determined to have one."
"Are we quarreling? I can fix that. Come closer, Roseanne." Her face
changed through delicate shades of feeling to tenderness and to
intensity. Abruptly Hugo leaped to his feet.
The rhythmic thunder rode down upon them like the wind. A few yards
away, head down, tail straight, the big bull charged over the ground
like an avalanche. Roseanne lifted herself in time to see Hugo take two
quick steps, draw back his fist, and hit the bull between the horns. It
was a diabolical thing. The bull was thrown back upon itself. Its neck
snapped loudly. Its feet crumpled; it dropped dead. Twenty feet to one
side was a stone wall. Hugo picked up a hoof and dragged the carcass to
the base of the wall. With his hand he made an indenture in the rocks,
and over the face of the hollow he splashed the bull's blood. Then he
approached Roseanne. The whole episode had occupied less than a minute.
She had hunched her shoulders together, and her face was pale. She
articulated with difficulty. "The bull"--her hands twitched--"broke in
here--and you hit him."
"Just in time, Roseanne."
"You killed him. Then--why did you drag him over there?"
"Because," Hugo answered slowly, "I thought it would be better to make
it seem as if he charged the wall and broke his neck that way."
Her frigidity was worse than any hysteria. "It isn't natural to be able
to do things like that. It isn't human."
He swallowed; those words in that stifled intonation were very familiar.
"I know it. I'm very strong."