“That is the truth. In many ways they are not comparable. Boris is a rough, passionate man. Grant is a gentleman. Always I thought there was something common in me; that must be the reason why I prefer Boris.”
“To vex me, thou art saying such untruthful words. I know thy contradictions! Go now and inquire after my tea. I am in want of it.”
During tea, nothing further was said of Maximus Grant; but Sunna was in a very merry mood, and Adam watched her, and listened to her in a philosophical way;––that is, he tried to make out amid all her persiflage and bantering talk what was her ruling motive and intent––a thing no one could have been sure of, unless they had heard her talking to herself––that mysterious confidence in which we all indulge, and in which we all tell ourselves the truth. Sunna was undressing her hair and folding away her clothing as she visited this confessional, but her revelations were certainly honest, even if fragmentary, and full of doubt and uncertainty.
“Grant, indeed!” she exclaimed, “I am not ready for Grant––I believe I am afraid of the man––he would make me over––make me like himself––in a month he would do it––I like Boris 162 best! I should quarrel with Boris, of course, and we should say words neither polite nor kind to each other; but then Boris would do as that blessed child said, ‘Look at me’; and I should look at him, and the making-up would begin. Heigh-ho! I wish it could begin tonight!” She was silent then for a few minutes, and in a sadder voice added––“with Max I should become an angel––and I should have a life without a ripple––I would hate it, just as I hate the sea when it lies like a mirror under the sunshine––then I always want to scream out for a great north wind and the sea in a passion, shattering everything in its way. If I got into that mood with Max, we should have a most unpleasant time–––” and she laughed and tossed her pillows about, and then having found a comfortable niche in one of them, she tucked her handsome head into it and in a few moments the sleep of youth and perfect health lulled her into a secret garden in the Land of Dreams.
The next day Sunna appeared to be quite oblivious regarding Grant’s visit and Vedder was too well acquainted with his granddaughter to speak of it. He only noticed that she was dressed with a peculiar simplicity and neatness. At three o’clock Grant was promptly at the Vedder House, 163 and at half-past four the land in question had been visited and subsequently bought and sold. Then the cup of tea came in, and the walk in the garden followed, and at six there was an ample meal, and during the singing that followed it, Vedder fell fast asleep, as was his custom, and when he awoke Grant was just going and the clock was striking ten. Vedder looked at Sunna and there was no need for him to speak.
“It was ‘The Banded Men,’” said Sunna with a straight look at her grandfather.
“Well, then, I know a woman who is a match for any number of ‘banded men.’”
“And in all likelihood that woman will be a Vedder. Good night, Grandfather.”