"Tell me, Nela—what are you like?"
But Nela did not answer; the question was a stab to her heart.
[CHAPTER VII.]
MORE ABSURDITIES.
By this time they were rested, and they went on till they reached the beginning of the grove beyond Saldeoro. Here they turned off into a clump of ancient walnut trees, of which the trunks and roots made a sort of step-ladder in the soil, with mossy hollows and backs so perfect for seats, that the hand of man could have made no better. From the top of the slope trickled a thread of water, tumbling from stone to stone, till it fell exhausted into a little basin constructed to be a reservoir to feed the conduit by which the neighboring houses were supplied. Before them the land sloped gently away, affording a lovely panorama of green hills with scattered groves and villas, and meadow plains where hundreds of cattle grazed and wandered peacefully. Quite in the background, between two lofty heights which were the farthest limit of the land, lay a wide segment of purely blue sea. It was such a landscape as makes a man feel to the utmost his relations to infinity and eternity.
Pablo had seated himself on the trunk of a tree, resting his left arm on the edge of the basin; with his right hand he pulled at the boughs which hung low enough to touch his forehead, on which now and again the sunbeams played, as the boughs stirred.
"What are you doing, Nela?" asked he, after a pause, not hearing the steps, the voice, nor even the breathing of his companion. "What are you about, and where are you?"
"Here I am," said Nela, laying her hand on his shoulder. "I was looking at the sea."
"Ah! it must be a long way off."
"It is visible between the hills of Ficóbriga."