Lendert took the place assigned him. Michelle, from the house, watched the pair; Lendert slowly picking from the vines the pods to fill a basket standing upon the walk, and Alaine with quick bird-like movements adding to the store. But Michelle did not know all that Alaine was saying, that she was disclosing herself as Alaine Hervieu, that she was telling of her great hope that her father might still be living, and of Pierre’s interest in the quest.
To all this Lendert listened mutely. When the basket was filled the two carried it together to the barn. Michelle frowned and shook her head, still keeping an eye upon the barn door. What if she could have heard Lendert say, “I think I will go, my Alaine. Thou, my beloved, must believe in me even if thou dost not see me in a long time. We love, thou and I, but what is best to do I must think, and I must leave thee, beloved one, for a time, but I leave my heart behind.”
“And mine thou takest with thee.”
“They will not marry thee to another meanwhile?”
“No, no.”
“Yet thy father?”
“If he returns it will be his right to bestow my hand; that is what I tell myself and what I have told Pierre.”
“And this Pierre?”
“He has gone away; when he returns we are to speak of how to obtain my father’s release. I would have gone myself,—I meant to,—but now—Lendert, Lendert, I was ready to do this even a week ago.”
“And now, is it I who keeps thee from it?”