To all that I said Karem listened with an attentive smile.
"Why, Prescott," he returned (I had taught him to call me by my last name), "you surprise me! Come, come, do not be so serious! Who can account for a woman's whims? Certainly, not I! When you are married like me, and have little tots running about your house ready to crawl up your knee whenever you come in, you'll know better than to try to explain what the gods never intended to be explained by any man!" And Karem burst into laughter, and slapped me on the back good-naturedly, as though thus to dispose of the matter.
However, I was not to be sidetracked so easily. I did not join in Karem's laughter; I even felt a little angry. "But this wasn't just an ordinary whim," I argued. "There was something deeper in it. There was some reason I don't understand, and can't get at no matter how I try."
"Then why not save trouble, and quit trying?" suggested Karem, still good-natured despite my sullenness. "Come, it's a splendid day; let's enjoy it while we can!"
And he pointed ahead to a thin patch of blue, vaguely visible through a break in the trees. "See, there's the lake already! I expect fishing will be good today!"
If I had required further proof that my wits had surrendered to Yasma's charms, I might have found evidence enough during the days that followed the tribal celebration. Though smarting from her avoidance of me, I desired nothing more fervently than to be with her again; and I passed half my waking hours in vainly searching for her. Day after day I would inquire for her at her father's cabin, would haunt the paths to the dwelling, would search the fields and vineyards in the hope of surprising her. Where had she gone, she who had always come running to greet me? Had she flown south like the wild birds? At this fancy I could only smile; yet always, with a lover's irrational broodings, I was obsessed by the fear that she was gone never to return. This dread might have risen to terror had the villagers not always been bringing me tidings of her: either they had just spoken with her, or had seen someone who had just spoken with her, or had observed her tripping by toward the meadows. Yet she was still elusive as though able to make herself invisible.
Nevertheless, after about a week my vigilance was rewarded. Stepping out into the chill gray of a mid-October dawn, I saw a slender little figure slipping along the edge of the village and across the fields toward the woods. My heart gave a great thump; without hesitation, I started in pursuit, not daring to call out lest I arouse the village, but determined not to lose sight of that slim flitting form. She did not glance behind, and could not have known that I was following, yet for some reason quickened her pace, so that I had to make an effort to match her speed.
Once out of earshot of the village, I paused to regain my breath, then at the top of my voice shouted, "Yasma! Yasma!"
Could it be that she had not heard me? On and on she continued, straight toward the dark fringe of the woods.