Now there was silence. I yet lay motionless. So did my companion. I was right in one thing; he knew of my presence, else he would now rise and go his way. He knew of my presence, yet he did not speak; what was the matter with him?
But why did not I speak? I concluded that he was fearing me, just as I was fearing him.
But why should he fear me, when, he could not doubt that I was hiding from the same persons whom he had shunned to meet?
But I was there first; he had not known that I was there; his hiding in a fence corner was deliberate, in order to escape the observation of the horsemen; his hiding in this particular fence corner was an accident.
Who is he? What is he thinking about, that he doesn't do something? He has no reason to fear me.
But fear has no reason. If he is overcome with fear, he dreads everything. He has not recovered from the fright the horsemen gave him.
But why do I not speak? Am I so overcome with fear that I cannot speak to a man who flees and hides? I will speak to him--
"Mahsa," said he, humbly, right in my ear.
I sat bolt upright; so did he.
"Speak low," said I; "tell me who you are."