"No—" she said in a low voice, "no...."
"But Selda!" I stammered, "I love you—I want to marry you." She shook her head.
"No," she said again, "didn't you understand? I am scheduled to marry Edvar."
At first I didn't know what she meant.
"Scheduled?" I repeated dully. "I don't understand."
"It has been arranged for years. Don't you remember what Edvar told you about our marriages here, the very first day you came? I was destined to marry Edvar long before any of us were born, before our parents, even, were born. It's the way they order our lives."
"But I love you," I cried in amazement. "And you love me, too. I know you love me."
"That means nothing here," she said. "It happens sometimes. One has to accept it. Nothing can be done. We live according to the machinery of the world. Everything is known and predetermined."
Suddenly, in the midst of what she was saying, close behind me there sounded even above the roaring of the waterfall a raucous noise like the hooting of a taxi horn. It was followed by a shrieking of brakes, and a hoarse voice near by shouted something angry and profane. A rush of air swept by me, and I heard faintly the sound of a motor moving away, with a grinding of gears. I looked at Selda.