Thomas Illey laughed too but did not look quite sure of himself. The sun, reflected from the water, trembled in his eyes. He turned to Christopher.
“Your sister and I are not strangers to each other. She caught me one day when I went out of town in search of sunlight, sunshine, trees and earth. Even then she made fun of me....”
Underneath the pier the ferryman landed. Then the boat started with them towards the island. Anne felt that all her troubles had remained on shore and that she was light and free. The little craft floated in molten gold and the oars stirred up gold too. And while the water carried her, it also carried her thoughts away through its wonderful glitter.
“I like to hear the Danube,” said Martha Illey. “Do you remember, Tom? We used to listen to it at home. It murmurs just like the woods of Ille.”
“I too love the Danube,” said Anne’s veiled voice. “My ancestors come from somewhere near its sources. From the great forests....”
Christopher thought uncomfortably of woodcutters and, embarrassed, kicked his sister to stop her from saying any more.
Anne smiled.
“They came thence, down on the banks of the river, as if the Danube had called them.” She reflected for an instant and then added quietly: “I have never yet heard the murmur of forests. It seems to me that the river sings something. Always the same thing and when it comes to the end of its song nobody can remember the beginning.”
Christopher looked attentively at the cut of Illey’s clothes. Where did his tailor live? Then he observed his narrow shoes and hid his own feet under the seat. He began to copy Illey’s gestures carefully. He also imitated the modulation of his voice. He seemed so confident of himself and so distinguished.
Illey looked over the water while he spoke: