They walked away together, outside the town, between the sky and the fields, walked and talked, and again, conscious that the talk was an artificial one, were even more gladly silent. Evening, and the last sunbeams were gliding over the ears of corn on both sides of the way. Then a breeze came along, and the ears swayed and whispered together, as the two passed on between them down the long road. Night was gathering, it grew continually darker, more melancholy, more delightful.
"I have been wanting to know you for a long time, Feigele."
"I know. You followed me like a shadow."
They are silent.
"What are you thinking about, Feigele?"
"What are you thinking about, Eleazar?"
And they plunge once more into a deep converse about all sorts of things, and there seems to be no reason why it should ever end.
It grows darker and darker.
They have come to walk closer together.
Now he takes her hand, she gives a start, but his hand steals further and further into hers.