Once he had wanted to make a fishing-rod of the slender rowan tree by
the mill-pond; now many years had passed and the tree had grown thicker
than his arm. He looked at it in wonder and walked on.
The impenetrable wilderness of bracken still grew along the bank of the
stream, a whole forest on whose floor the cattle had trampled regular
paths over which the fronds of the bracken closed. He strode through
the wilderness as in the days of his childhood, swimming with his hands
and feeling his way with his feet. Insects and creeping things fled
before the mighty man.
Up by the granite quarry he found black-thorn, wood anemones and
violets. He plucked a quantity, their homely scent recalled to him
bygone days. In the distance the mountain ridges showed in a purple
haze and on the far side of the bay the cuckoo was beginning to call.
He sat down; after a while he began to hum. Then he heard footsteps on
the path below.
It was evening, the sun was down, but the air was still quivering with
warmth. An infinite peace lay over forest, mountain and bay. A woman
was coming up towards the quarry. It was Victoria. She was carrying a
basket.
Johannes rose, bowed and was going away.
"I didn't want to disturb you," she said. "I came to get some flowers."
He made no answer. And he never reflected that she had all kinds of
flowers in her garden.
"I brought a basket to put the flowers in," she went on. "But perhaps I
shan't find any. We want them for a party, for the table. We are going
to give a party."
"Here are anemones and violets," he said. "Higher up there are
generally hops. But perhaps it is too early in the year for them."
"You are paler than when I saw you last," she remarked to him. "That is
over two years ago. You have been away, I've heard. I have read your
books."
Still he did not answer. It occurred to him that perhaps he might say:
"Well, good evening, Miss Victoria," and go. From the place where he
stood it was one step down to the next stone and from there one to
her, and then he could withdraw as though quite naturally. She stood
right in his path. She had on a yellow dress and a red hat, she was
strangely beautiful; her throat was bare.
"I am blocking your way," he mumbled and stepped down. He controlled
himself so as not to show any emotion.
There was now one pace between them. She did not make way for him, but
stood still. They looked one another in the face. Suddenly she turned
very red, dropped her eyes and stepped aside; an irresolute expression
came over her face, but she smiled.
He went past her and stopped, her sad smile struck him, his heart flew
back to her and he said at random:
"Well, of course you have been in town many times since? Since that
time?... Now I know where there used to be flowers in old days: on the
knoll by your flagstaff."
She turned towards him and he saw with surprise that her face had
become pale and agitated.
"Will you come to us that evening?" she said. "Will you come to our
party? We are giving a party," she went on, and her face began to flush
again. "Some people are coming from town. It will be before long, but
I'll let you know. What is your answer?"
He did not answer. It was no party for him, his place was not at the
Castle.
"You mustn't say No. You won't be bored, I have thought about that and
I have a surprise for you."
Pause.
"You cannot surprise me any more," he answered.
She bit her lip; the despairing smile crossed her face again.
"What do you want of me?" she said in a toneless voice.
"I want nothing of you, Miss Victoria. I sat here on a stone and I
offered to move."
"Oh well, I was at home with nothing to do, I had been there the whole
day, and then I came here. I might have gone up the river another way,
then I shouldn't have come just here...."
"My dear Miss Victoria, the place is yours and not mine."
"I wronged you once, Johannes; I wanted to make it good again, to put
it right. I really have a surprise which I think ... I mean, which I
hope will please you. I can't say more. But I will ask you to come this
time."
"If it will give you any pleasure I shall come."
"Will you?"
"Yes; thank you for your kindness."
When he had come down into the wood he turned and looked back. She had
sat down; her basket lay by her side. He did not go home, but continued
to stroll up and down the road. A thousand thoughts were conflicting
within him. A surprise? That was what she said just now, only a moment
ago, and her voice trembled. A warm, nervous joy came over him, making
his heart beat violently, and he felt himself lifted up from the road
on which he was walking. And was it a mere chance that she was dressed
in yellow today again? He had looked at her hand where the ring had
been--she had no ring.
An hour passed. The scent of the woods and fields surrounded him,
penetrated his breath, entered his heart. He sat down, leaned back
with his hands clasped behind his neck and listened for a while to the
song of the cuckoo on the other side of the bay. All round him the air
thrilled with a passionate song of birds.
So once more it had happened! When she came up to him in the quarry
in her yellow dress and blood-red hat she looked like a wandering
butterfly that flitted from stone to stone and stopped before him. I
don't want to disturb you, she said, and smiled; her smile was red, her
whole face lit up, she strewed stars about her. She had delicate blue
veins on her neck and the few freckles under her eyes gave her a warm
tint. She was in her twentieth year.
A surprise? What did she intend? Would she perhaps show him his books,
produce those two or three volumes, to please him by showing that she
had bought them all and cut them? There, you see, a small attention, a
little bit of charity! Pray don't despise my poor contribution!
He rose impetuously and stood still. Victoria was coming back, her
basket was empty.
"You didn't find any flowers?" he asked absently.
"No, I gave it up. I wasn't looking for them either; I just sat there."
He said:
"While I remember it: you must not go on thinking that you have done
me any wrong. You have nothing to make good again with any kind of
charity."
"Haven't I?" she answered, taken aback. She thought it over again,
looked at him and pondered. "Haven't I? I thought that time.... I
didn't want you to go on bearing me a grudge for what happened."
"No, I don't bear you a grudge."
She thought again for a while. Suddenly she gave a cast of her neck.
"Then that's all right," she said. "Well, I might have known it. Of
course it didn't make so deep an impression as all that. Very well
then, we won't talk about it any more."
"Good-bye," she said. "Till we meet again."
"Good-bye," he answered.
They went their different ways. He stopped and turned. There she went.
He stretched out his hands and whispered tender words to himself: I
bear you no grudge, oh no, I do not; I love you still, I love you....
"Victoria!" he cried.
She heard; she started and turned round, but walked on.
Some days passed. Johannes was in a profoundly disturbed state and
could not work or sleep; he spent nearly the whole day in the woods. He
went up to the big fir-clad knoll where the Castle flagstaff stood; the
flag was hoisted. There was also a flag flying from the round tower of
the Castle.
A strange excitement seized him. Visitors were coming to the Castle,
there were to be great doings.
The afternoon was still and warm; the river ran like a pulse through
the heated landscape. A steamer glided in towards land, leaving a fan
of white streaks over the surface of the bay. Then four carriages drove
out of the Castle yard and took the road down to the pier.
The boat came alongside, some ladies and gentlemen landed and took
their seats in the carriages. Then a series of shots began to ring
out from the Castle; two men stood on the top of the round tower with
shot-guns, loading and firing by turns. By the time they had shot off
twenty-one rounds the carriages were rolling in through the gate and
the firing ceased.
Of course, there were to be great doings at the Castle; the flags and
salutes were in honor of the visitors. In the carriages were some
officers in uniform; perhaps Otto was among them, the Lieutenant.
Johannes came down from the knoll and was making for home. He was
overtaken by a man from the Castle who stopped him. The man had a
letter in his cap, he had been sent by Miss Victoria and wanted an
answer.
Johannes read the letter with a beating heart. Victoria invited him
after all, wrote in cordial terms and asked him to come. This was the
time she wanted him to come. Answer by the messenger.
A strange and unexpected joy came upon him. The blood mounted to his
head and he answered the man that he would come; yes, thanks, he would
come at once.
He handed the messenger a ridiculously big tip and hurried home to
dress.