When the music ceased Miriam hoped she had not been gazing at the window. It frightened and disgusted her to see that all the girls seemed to be sitting up and ... being bright ... affected. She could hardly believe it. She flushed with shame.... Fast, horrid ... perfect strangers ... it was terrible ... it spoilt everything. Sitting up like that and grimacing.... It was different for Gertrude. How happy Gertrude must be. She was sitting with her elbows on the table laughing out across the table about something.... Millie was not being horrid. She looked just as usual, pudgy and babyish and surprised and half resentful ... it was her eyebrows. Miriam began looking at eyebrows.
There was a sudden silence all round the table. Standing at Fräulein’s side was a young student holding his peaked cap in his hand and bowing with downcast eyes. Above his pallid scarred face his hair stood upright. He bowed at the end of each phrase. Miriam’s heart bounded in anticipation. Would Fräulein let them dance after tea, on the grass?
But Fräulein with many smiles and kind words denied the young man’s formally repeated pleadings. They finished tea to the strains of a funeral march.
2
They were driving swiftly along through the twilight. The warm scents of the woods stood across the roadway. They breathed them in. Sitting at the forward end of the brake, Miriam could turn and see the shining of the road and the edges of the high woods.
Underneath the awning, faces were growing dim. Warm at her side was Emma. Emma’s hand was on her arm under a mass of fern and grasses. Voices quivered and laughed. Miriam looked again and again at Pastor Lahmann sitting almost opposite to her, next to Fräulein Pfaff. She could look at him more easily than at either of the girls. She felt that only he could feel the beauty of the evening exactly as she did. Several times she met and quietly contemplated his dark eyes. She felt that there was someone in those eyes who was neither tiresome nor tame. She was looking at someone to whom those boys and that dead wife were nothing. At first he had met her eyes formally, then with obvious embarrassment, and at last simply and gravely. She felt easy and happy in this communion. Dimly she was conscious that it sustained her, it gave her dignity and poise. She thought that its meaning must, if she observed it at all, be quite obvious to Fräulein and must reveal her to her. Presently her eyes were drawn to meet Fräulein’s and she read there a disgust and a loathing such as she had never seen. The woods receded, the beauty dropped out of them. The crunching of the wheels sounded out suddenly. What was the good of the brake-load of grimacing people? Miriam wanted to stop it and get out and stroll home along the edge of the wood with the quiet man.
“Haben die Damen vielleicht ein Rad verloren?”
A deep voice on the steps of the brake.... “Have the ladies lost a wheel, perhaps?” Miriam translated helplessly to herself during a general outbreak of laughter....
In a moment a brake overtook them and drove alongside in the twilight. The drivers whipped up their horses. The two vehicles raced and rumbled along keeping close together. Fräulein called to their driver to desist. The students slackened down too and began singing at random, one against the other; those on the near side standing up and bowing and laughing. A bouquet of fern fronds came in over Judy’s head, missing the awning and falling against Clara’s knees. She rose and flung it back and then everyone seemed to be standing up and laughing and throwing.
They drove home, slowly, side by side, shouting and singing and throwing. Warm, blinding masses of fragrant grass came from the students’ brake and were thrown to and fro through the darkness lit by the lamps of the two carriages.