Read Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) Online
Authors: Travelers In Time
As
she
spoke,
her
eyes
strayed
continually
to
me,
carelessly,
irresistibly,
and
swung
over
or
under
me
and
would
not
look
at
me.
She could
do
that
while
she
was
talking,
but
while
she
was
listening
she could
only
half
do
it;
for
when
her
tongue
was
stilled
I
caught
her mind
or
her
body
and
held
her
and
drew
her;
so
that,
would
she
or would
she
not,
she
had
to
look
at
me.
And
I
delighted
in
that
savage impression
of
myself
upon
her;
following
her
nerves
with
the
cunning of
one
who
could
see
within
her;
and
guiding
her,
holding
her,
all
the time
to
me,
to
me,
to
me.
.
.
.
And
then
she
looked,
and
I
was
baffled
anew;
for
her
eye
was
as
light,
as
calm,
as
inexpressive
as
the
bright twinkle
of
a
raindrop
that
hangs
and
shivers
on
a
twig.
But
the
game
was
broken
by
a
tap
on
my
shoulder,
and,
at
the moment,
her
voice
stumbled
on
the
word
she
was
uttering,
her
eyes leaped
into
mine
and
looked
there,
and
then
she
was
talking
again and
merry
and
gracious.
It
is
a
little
difficult
to
explain
these
things,
for
I
can
give
no
name to
the
people
I
am
speaking
of;
nor
can
I
say
how
I
was
known
to them;
but
I
knew
their
names
and
qualities
well
and
they
knew
mine: so,
at
the
tap
on
my
shoulder,
I,
knowing
whom
I
should
see,
turned my
eyes
to
that
direction,
and
saw,
for
our
brows
were
level,
a
great golden
head,
great
blue
eyes
and,
just
under
the
rim
of
vision,
a
great pair
of
shoulders.
Everything
about
him
was
great
in
bulk
and
in
quality,
and
with the
exception
of
our
mistress,
I
had
never
met
one
so
founded
in strength
and
security
as
he
was.
We
turned
amicably
and
went
from
the
room
together;
out
of
the great
building
and
across
the
fields;
and
as
our
feet
moved
rhythmically
in
the
grass
we
smiled
at
each
other,
for
indeed
I
loved
him as
my
own
soul
and
he
loved
me
no
less.
As
we
paced
in
long
slow
strides
the
darkness
had
already
begun
to.be
visible,
for
the
second
half
of
twilight
v/as
about
us.
Away
in
the direction
towards
which
we
trod
an
ashen
sky
kept
a
few
dull
embers, where,
beyond
sight,
down
on
the
rim
of
the
horizon,
the
sun
had
set.
There
was
silence
except
for
the
innumerable
rustling
bred
of
grass and
quiet
trees
and
a
wind
too
delicate
to
be
heard
and
scarcely
to
be felt;
for,
though
the
skies
were
brisk,
there
was
but
little
ground
wind. Naught
moved
in
the
trees
but
the
high
tender
branches
that
swayed lazily
and
all
alone;
leading
their
aery
existence
so
far
from
my
turbulence
of
passion
that
I
chid
them
for
their
carelessness
of
one,
who, in
the
very
cleft
of
anxiety,
could
find
an
instant
to
remember
them
in.