She did not extend her hand to him.
“Frau Rodbertus had told me you were on a farm,” he broke the silence, intimating that it was not chance that had brought him here.
A softer light stole over her face, her protruding lip curled upward, disclosing her longish white teeth.
“I haven’t seen Frau Rodbertus in months,” Eugenie said, standing before him with her arms hanging on either side of her, the kerchief in her left hand.
Albert studied her a moment. The freedom of bygone days was gone. He felt constraint and sensed her constraint.
The dog had reached the gate of the farmhouse and stopped, barking, his head turned in the direction of Eugenie.
“You see, he is scolding me for lagging behind,” she said, indulging in a spontaneous smile.
“He is scolding you for your failure to offer hospitality to the weary wayfarer,” Albert answered in kind.
They both laughed.
“All wayfarers, weary or otherwise, are welcome at our house,” she said, turning into the passage that led to the farmhouse.