A ruined and abandoned mill stood in the garden. The wheels had ceased
to turn, the cylinders were overgrown with moss, and the water trickled
through the old locks in slender, never-ceasing streams. This was the
blind youth’s favorite resort. Here he would spend hours on the parapet
of the dam, listening to the sound of the trickling water, which he later
reproduced to perfection on the piano. But now he was thinking of other
things. Rapidly he trod the path, his heart filled with bitterness, and
his face distorted by suffering. He paused when he heard the young girl’s
light step; accustomed as he was to confide all his feelings to her, he
felt no embarrassment in her presence.
Evelyn rested her hand on his shoulder as she asked,—“What is it? Why are
you so sad?”
He did not reply at first, but turning, began once more to pace up and
down the path. The young girl walked beside him.
Thus a few minutes went by in silence. It seemed as if the presence
of Evelyn had a tranquillizing influence upon Peter’s mood; the keen
pain diminished, his face grew more peaceful; the flood of sadness that
had overwhelmed his soul began to subside, and a new sense of mingled
pleasure and expectancy had taken possession of him. This feeling, to
whose healing influence he had often yielded, he had never yet made an
attempt to analyze. And now again his mood grew tender, although a shade
of sadness still remained.
“Of course it made me feel sad,” he said, after a moment’s silence;
“because I understood their words, although they were not directed toward
me. I am useless, quite useless in the world. And why was I born into it?”
The girl glanced up at him with a look of alarm, and then as if with
settled purpose she bent her head and resumed her walk by his side.
The blind youth stopped short. “Why, I ask, was I born into the world?
And another thing—It may perhaps be true, as old people say, that affairs
have changed for the worse; yet in old times the blind fared better than
they do now. There was work for them, and they had a place in life. Why
was I not born in times when blind minstrels used to wander from place to
place? I would then take my lyre, or bandur,[17] and go from city to city
and through the villages and distant steppes, and wherever I appeared
the people would gather around me, while I sang to them of the deeds of
their fathers, glorious and heroic, stirring their holiest feelings, and
inspiring them with energy and courage. Thus I too could play a part in
life. But now, even that cadet with his shrill voice,—you heard what he
said about marrying and being a commander. They laughed at him; but for
me even that is unattainable.”
Tears came into the young girl’s eyes, widening with alarm. “You are
excited by the student’s talk.” She tried to speak lightly, but her
agitation betrayed itself in her voice.
“Yes,” replied Peter, thoughtfully; “and what an agreeable fellow he is!
He has a very pleasing voice.”
“Yes, he is agreeable,” said Evelyn, abstractedly; and her tone evinced a
certain tenderness. Then as if vexed with herself she suddenly exclaimed
in a passionate voice: “No, I don’t like him at all! He has too much
self-assurance; and I think his voice is harsh and disagreeable.”
Peter listened in surprise to this angry sally. The girl stamped her foot
as she went on:
“And it is all the most perfect folly! I know it has been a plan of
Maxim’s contriving. Oh, how it makes me hate him!”
“Why, Vèlya,” expostulated the blind youth, “how can you blame Uncle
Maxim for what has happened?”
“Oh, he thinks himself extremely clever; and he has destroyed every
vestige of humanity within his breast by all these plans and schemes.
Don’t speak to me of those people! I should like to know how they gained
the right to arrange other people’s lives?” She stopped abruptly,
clenched her slender hands and burst into a flood of childlike tears.
Peter took her hand and pressed it sympathetically. He was taken by
surprise. This outburst from the usually calm and self-controlled girl
was both unexpected and mysterious. As he listened to her weeping he was
conscious of a new and peculiar emotion stirring within his breast.
Suddenly she gave him a fresh surprise by withdrawing her hand and
bursting into a fit of laughter. “How silly I am! What in the world am I
crying about?” She wiped her eyes and went on good-naturedly: “One must
be just. They are both good, honest men, and what he said was all very
well! But it does not apply to every one.”
“To every one who has the power,” replied the blind youth, scarce audibly.
“What nonsense!” she answered brightly; but in spite of her cheerfulness
the traces of recent tears could still be detected in her voice. “Take
Maxim for instance; he fought as long as he was able, and now he lives as
best he may. And we also—”
“You say _we_? Why do you say that?” interrupted Peter.
“Because—well—because sometime you will marry me, and our lives will be
one.”
Strangely confused and yet rejoicing, the blind young man drew back a
step. “I—marry you? You mean—that you will—marry me?”
“Why, of course, of course!” she replied with mingled haste and
agitation. “How dull you must be! Can it be possible that you have never
thought of it? It seems so natural! Whom could you marry if not me?”
“To be sure,” he assented in his inconsiderate egotism. But instantly
reflecting,—“Have you forgotten, Vèlya,” he said, taking her by the hand,
“what these young men have just been telling us about the education that
girls receive in the great cities? Consider what a career lies open
before you, while I—”
“Well, what about you?”
“I—am blind!” he ended in a somewhat illogical conclusion.
The girl smiled, but continued in the same tone: “What if you are blind?
I love you even so; hence it follows that I must marry you. That is the
way things happen; what can we do about it?”
He also smiled, and dropped his head after his usual pensive fashion, as
though he were listening to some voice within his soul. No sound could be
heard save the gentle rippling of the water; and even that low murmur
seemed at times to die away, but only to return with greater force, and
ripple on forever. The leaves of the luxuriant wild cherry-tree whispered
to one another, and the last pensive trills of the nightingale’s song
echoed through the garden.
By this bold, unexpected, and yet gentle stroke the young girl had
dispelled the lowering cloud that darkened the blind youth’s heart.
Inspired by the new feeling that had taken possession of his whole being,
he fervently pressed her little hand in his. A faint almost imperceptible
pressure was the response. Then he clasped her round the waist and drew
her toward him, gently stroking her silken hair with his other hand.
“Please, let me go, darling,” said the young girl, in low, shy tones as
she released herself from his embrace.
Evelyn’s soft voice thrilled the blind youth’s heart. He made no effort
to detain her, but as he yielded he heaved a profound sigh. He heard her
smoothing her hair. His heart throbbed in deep but pleasing excitement,
and he could feel the hot blood surging with a force hitherto unknown.
And when a moment later she said to him, “Come, let us go back to the
company,” he heard with delight and surprise a new music in her charming
voice.