CRABBING.
Meanwhile, the captain's spirited steeds have long since reached the
appointed spot. Horses and carriage have been disposed of at the inn of
a neighbouring village. It is an excellent hostelry, and would have
been a very pleasant place in which to take lunch, but, since the
delight of a picnic culminates, as is well known, in preparing hot,
unappetizing viands at a smoky fire in the open air and in partaking of
excellent cold dishes in the most uncomfortable position possible, the
party immediately leave the village, and Stella, Freddy, and the two
gentlemen, with the help of a peasant-lad hired for the purpose, drag
out the provisions to the ruin, where the table is to be spread, in the
shade of a romantic old oak.
Directly across the meadow flows the stream, now widened to a
considerable breadth, which had rippled at intervals by the roadside.
While Leskjewitsch and the general, both resigned martyrs to picnic
pleasure, set about collecting dry sticks for the fire, Freddy, who has
instantly divined crabs in the brook, having first obtained his
father's permission, pulls off his shoes and stockings and wades about
among the stones and reeds in the water.
"You look, little one, as if you wanted to go crabbing too," says the
captain to Stella, noting the longing looks which the girl is casting
after the boy.
"Indeed I should like to," she replies, nodding gravely; "but would it
be proper, uncle?"
"Whom need you regard?--me, or that old fellow," indicating over his
shoulder the general, "who is half blind?"
Stella laughs merrily.
"I certainly should not mind him; but"--she colours a little--"suppose
the rest were to come."
"Ah! you're thinking of Rohritz," says the captain. "Make your mind
easy: if I know those steeds, it will take them one hour longer to drag
the carriage up here, and by the time they arrive you can have caught
thirty-six Laybrook crabs. As soon as I hear the carriage coming I will
warn you by whistling our national hymn. So away with you to the water,
only take care not to cut your feet."
A minute or two later, Stella, without gloves, the sleeves of her gray
linen blouse rolled up above her elbows over her shapely white arms,
and gathering up her skirts with her left hand, while with the right
she feels for her prey, is wading in the sun-warmed water beside
Freddy, moving with all the attractive awkwardness of a pretty young
girl whose feet are cautiously seeking a resting-place among the sharp
stones, and who, although extremely eager to capture a great many
crabs, has a decided aversion to any spot that looks green and slimy.
The treacherous luck of all novices at any game is well known. Stella's
success in her first essay at crabbing is marvellous. She goes on
throwing more and more of the crawling, sprawling monsters into the
basket which Freddy holds ready. Her hat prevented her from seeing
clearly, so she has tossed it on the bank, and her hair, instead of
being neatly knotted up, hangs in a mass of tangled gold at the back of
her neck, nearly upon her shoulders, the sunbeams bringing out all
sorts of glittering reflections in its coils. She is just waving a
giant crustacean triumphantly on high, with, "Look, Freddy, did you
ever see such a big one!" when the blood rushes to her cheeks, her
brown eyes take on a tragic expression of dismay, and, utterly
confused, she drops the crab and her skirts.
"Am I intruding?" asks the new arrival, Rohritz, smiling as he notices
her confusion.
In her hurry to get out of the brook, she forgets to look where she is
stepping, and suddenly an expression of pain appears in her face, and
the water about her feet takes on a crimson tinge.
"You have cut your foot," Rohritz calls, seriously distressed, helping
her to reach the shore, where she sits down on the stump of a tree. The
captain and the general are both out of sight, and the blood runs
faster and faster from a considerable cut in the girl's foot. "We must
put a stop to that," says Rohritz, with anxiety that is almost
paternal, as he dips his handkerchief in the brook. But with a deep
blush Stella hides her foot beneath the hem of her dress, now, alas!
soiled and muddy. "Be reasonable," he insists, adopting a sterner tone:
"there should be no trifling with such things. Remember my gray hair: I
might be your father." And he kneels down, takes her foot in his hands,
and bandages the wound carefully and skilfully. In spite of his boasted
gray hair, however, it must be confessed that he experiences odd
sensations during this operation, the foot is so pretty, slender, but
not bony, soft as a rose-leaf, and so small withal that it almost fits
into the hollow of his hand.
Still more beautiful than her foot is her fair dishevelled head, so
turned that he sees only a vague profile, just enough to show him how
the blood has mounted to her temples, colouring cheek and neck crimson.
"Thanks!" she says, in a somewhat defiant tone, drawing the foot up
beneath her dress after he has finished bandaging it. Then, looking at
him with a lofty, rather mistrustful air, she asks, "How old are you,
really?"
"Thirty-seven," he replies, so accustomed to her strange questions that
they no longer surprise him.
"How could you say that you might be my father? You are at least five
years too young!" she exclaims, angrily. "And why did you appear so
suddenly?"
"I repent my intrusion with all my heart," Rohritz assures her. "The
horses seemed so tired that I thought three people a sufficient burden
for them, and so I alighted and came by the path across the fields."
At this moment shrill and clear across the meadow from the forest
bordering it come the notes of 'God save our Emperor!' and immediately
afterwards is heard the slow rumble of the approaching carriage.
"There, you see!" says Stella, still out of humour. "My uncle promised
me to whistle that as soon as the carriage could be heard; but no one
expected you on foot, and you came just twenty minutes too soon!"