“Yes.”
“And will you tell me?”
“Why not? Listen! I have been goose-herd.”
At this word the young man started, but he made believe rub his eyes, and Barefoot, unembarrassed, continued,—“When one sits and lies down so long in the fields alone, they think of a hundred things that never come into the minds of others, and sometimes there comes a wonderfully strange idea. Then, only attend, and you will find it is true! Every fruit-tree looks, especially when you observe it as a whole tree, just like the fruit it bears. Look at the apple-tree, when it is not extended or pruned, does it not look like the apple itself? And so the pear-tree, and the cherry. Observe them attentively, the cherry-tree has a tall stem like the cherry itself—and so I think—”
“Ah! what do you think?”
“Do not laugh at me. As the fruit-trees look like the fruit they bear, so is it, also, with men, and we instantly see it in their faces; only the trees have an honorable, honest look, and men can dissemble. But am I not talking nonsense?”
“No, you have not been goose-herd for nothing,” said the young man, with strange mingled emotions. “It is pleasant talking with you. I would gladly give you a kiss, if I did not fear it would be wrong.”
Barefoot trembled in every limb. She stooped to break off a flower, but she left it there.
After a long silence the young man said, “We shall never see each other again,—therefore it is better so.”
They went back to the dancing-hall, and danced again without a word being spoken. When it was over, he led her to the table, and said, “Now, I must say farewell! But take breath, and then we must drink a glass together.”