And the Miller went out of the Castle gate and promised himself that never, never again would he be such a fool as to listen to his wife when she wanted to poke her nose into secrets. He'd let her know that.
VII
Once he had wanted to make a fishing-rod of the slender rowan tree by the mill-pond; now many years had passed and the tree had grown thicker than his arm. He looked at it in wonder and walked on.
The impenetrable wilderness of bracken still grew along the bank of the stream, a whole forest on whose floor the cattle had trampled regular paths over which the fronds of the bracken closed. He strode through the wilderness as in the days of his childhood, swimming with his hands and feeling his way with his feet. Insects and creeping things fled before the mighty man.
Up by the granite quarry he found black-thorn, wood anemones and violets. He plucked a quantity, their homely scent recalled to him bygone days. In the distance the mountain ridges showed in a purple haze and on the far side of the bay the cuckoo was beginning to call.
He sat down; after a while he began to hum. Then he heard footsteps on the path below.
It was evening, the sun was down, but the air was still quivering with warmth. An infinite peace lay over forest, mountain and bay. A woman was coming up towards the quarry. It was Victoria. She was carrying a basket.
Johannes rose, bowed and was going away.
"I didn't want to disturb you," she said. "I came to get some flowers."