I crowded closer to the ground. My blood beat in my temples, and I was awake with every muscle. But I learned nothing. The sound of an axe and then silence.
The woman looked at me. "Monsieur, is something wrong? Your face has changed."
I stretched out my hand to her. "You must not grow fanciful. But come. It is time to go home, madame."
I pushed her into the canoe in haste, but when we had once rounded the turn of the bluff we floated home slowly. The light of late afternoon is warm and yellow. It cradled the woman in lapping waves, and she sat glowing and fragrant, and her eyes were mirrors of the light. I dropped my paddle.
"Tell me more about yourself. Talk to me. Tell me of your childhood,"
I breathed.
She put out her hand. "Monsieur! Our contract!"
I let the canoe drift. "Madame; tell me the truth. Why do you hold yourself so detached from me? Is it—— Madame, is it because you fear that we shall learn to love each other,—to love against our wills?"
She looked down. "It would be a tragedy if we did, monsieur."
"You would think it a tragedy to learn to love me?"
"It could be nothing else, monsieur."