“What can it have been? Who spoke those words? Was it he, or was it only my fancy?”
The uncertainty of it was troubling her, and her patience was becoming exhausted. The poor girl had stopped answering my questions, she was pouting and ready to cry.
“Had we not better go home?” I asked.
“I—I love coasting!” she answered with a blush. “Shall we not slide down once more?”
She “loved” coasting, and yet, as she took her seat on the sled, she was as trembling and pale as before and scarcely could breathe for terror!
We coasted down for the third time and I saw her watching my face and following the movements of my lips with her eyes. But I put my handkerchief to my mouth and coughed, and when we were half-way down I managed to say:
“I love you, Nadia!”
So the riddle remained unsolved! Nadia was left pensive and silent. I escorted her home, and as she walked she shortened her steps and tried to go slowly, waiting for me to say those words. I was aware of the struggle going on in her breast, and of how she was forcing herself not to exclaim:
“The wind could not have said those words! I don’t want to think that it said them!”
Next day I received the following note: