VI.
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.