So much harsh independence sounded in these proud, derisive words, that I involuntarily thought:
‘You haven’t been bred in the Polyessie forest for nothing. You’re really a dangerous person to joke with....’
‘Do we touch anybody?’ she continued as her confidence in me grew. ‘We do not want people. Once a year I go to the little town to buy soap and salt ... and some tea for granny. She loves tea. Otherwise, I could do without them for ever.’
‘Well, I see you and your granny are not fond of people.... But may I come to see you sometimes for a little while?’
She laughed. How strange and unexpected was the change in her pretty face! There was no trace of her former sternness in it. It had in an instant become bright, shy, and childish.
‘Whatever will you do with us? Granny and I are dull.... Why, come, if you like, and if you are really a good man. But ... if you do happen to come, it would be better if you came without a gun....’
‘You’re afraid?’
‘Why should I be afraid? I’m afraid of nothing.’ Again I could catch in her voice her confidence in her strength. ‘But I don’t like it. Why do you kill birds, or hares even? They do nobody any harm, and they want to live as much as you or I. I love them; they are so tiny, and such little stupids.... Well, good-bye.’ She began to hurry. ‘I don’t know your name.... I’m afraid granny will be cross with me.’
With easy swiftness she ran to the hut. She bent her head, and with her hands caught up her hair, blown loose in the wind.
‘Wait, wait a moment,’ I called. ‘What is your name? Let us be properly introduced.’