And when she comes, my heart knows all, and no
longer beats like a heart, but rings as a bell. I lay my hand on her.
"Tie my shoe-string," she says, with flushed cheeks. ...
The sun dips down into the sea and rises again, red and refreshed, as if
it had been to drink. And the air is full of whisperings.
An hour after, she speaks, close to my mouth:
"Now I must leave you."
And she turns and waves her hand to me as she goes, and her face is
flushed still; her face is tender and full of delight. And again she
turns and waves to me.
But Diderik steps out from under the tree and says:
"Iselin, what have you done? I saw you."
She answers:
"Diderik, what did you see? I have done nothing."
"Iselin, I saw what you did," he says again; "I saw you."
And then her rich, glad laughter rings through the wood, and she goes
off with him, full of rejoicing from top to toe. And whither does she
go? To the next mortal man; to a huntsman in the woods.
* * * * *
It was midnight. Asop had broken loose and been out hunting by himself;
I heard him baying up in the hills, and when at last I got him back it
was one o'clock. A girl came from herding goats; she fastened her
stocking and hummed a tune and looked around. But where was her flock?
And what was she doing in the woods at midnight? Ah, nothing, nothing.
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