"No, never," exactly as if he were talking of some third party; and then, with the usual good-bye kiss, proceeded on his way.
Everybody they met on the way to and from school was hard at work, save very aged men and women, who, however, were not idle, but might often be seen seated amid groups of fishermen, or peasants at work in the fields, reading the Bible aloud. Eric marked, and inwardly digested, this, and though he had not yet learned to read well, could pretend to do so to perfection. In his father's absence his grandparents read a chapter to him every day; he would then take the book and, by a wonderful act of memory, with his eyes fixed upon the page, repeat word for word to the bewildered Carina.
As Olaf pursued his solitary way, his thoughts dwelt fondly on his little home, and proudly on his boy. But when he reflected that his education would, at best, be limited, and that he would grow up to a heritage of economy and care, he sighed, and wondered why nature made such mistakes—lavishing gifts upon the poor, to whom they were of no use, and often withholding them from the rich, to whom they would have been so welcome.
He made his way once more into Italy, and disposed of his wares quite readily—more so than ever before, because he now spoke Italian readily. His weary shoulders were gladly relieved of the heavy pack they had borne, and he now bethought himself that he might indulge Viola with some memento of her native land. But what should it be? It was an event in his life to make a present, and he felt almost ashamed of himself for being so sentimental. While he stood stupidly scratching his head, a merry, musical voice fell on his ear, that was so like Viola's that he started and turned, almost expecting to see her before him. It was a young girl, daughter of the man to whom he had sold his wares, and she was asking if he did not mean to carry home some gift to his wife, unconsciously hoping that he hadn't one.
Olaf felt that he could confide in one of Viola's country-women, and in a few words told her the dilemma he was in.
A quick flash of intelligence lighted the girl's face, and she began searching among the heterogeneous articles scattered about, and finally held up, in triumph, a small picture, in which Italy's beautiful blue was the color that chiefly caught the eye.
Olaf knew little about art, but had some general idea that even this small study was beyond his means. But the musical tongue ran merrily on; he should have it for her country-woman for a mere song, and it would warm her heart to see a bit of her own sky.
"Yours," she said, "is bleak and cold. I would not live there; it would kill my heart!"
At the same time she would have tried the experiment under the guidance of such a genial-looking man as Olaf, provided he had no wife.