I walked with Eve along the shore, and I wondered. I must have been mistaken in those words of Bobby's. How could he have asked her that?
VI
On that second day of June it befell that I was stirring early, and I was out at dawn, for I had much to do; but I did not do it then, as I had meant. When I was come out into the fresh breath of morning, and was walking over the dewy grass to my shed, of a sudden my soul was drenched with the sense of a great truth, even as my feet and legs were drenched with dew. And the truth was this: All work is useless. It is but a waste of time that might be better spent in watching the sun come up through the mists of morning to rule over his kingdom; or in seeing him sink behind the bearded hills in the golden haze of evening. At either time the old earth is at peace, and the waters stilled or just waking, but the dawn is the better. I would contemplate the majesty of the sunrise and consider upon it. It restoreth my soul.
So my cares slipped from off my shoulders as a garment, and I turned my steps to the steep path, and came to the shore, and over the sand and pebbles to my clam beds at the point; and I hurried, for I would not miss the rising of the sun. But I did miss it, and saw the sun shining through a thick haze, with his lower edge just risen out of the sea. The tide was high, and the waters whispered gently at my feet, and stretched away in all manner of opalescent colors until, toward the south, they were lost in a tender pearl-gray that seemed to cover everything.
One needs to be alone at such a time; alone or with one other. And Eve had not divined my intention any more than I had, but she had been sleeping sweetly, with one white arm curved above her head upon the pillow, and she had smiled in her sleep, and I had withdrawn cautiously and quietly. She supposed that I would be working at my preparations. Working! And I laughed silently to myself. But I wished that I had known what I should do. Perhaps she would not have minded being waked.
So I stood there, scarcely moving, looking out into that tender pearl-gray, until the sun was half an hour high or more. Some of the magic was gone, and I knew that it was to be hot; hot and moist and sticky. And a fisherman crawled out into the bay, and then another, their sails hanging in wrinkles. They were not afraid of submarines. Who could be afraid of submarines in that quiet, opalescent water, that pearl-gray haze? Submarines there!
I laughed and turned away. Work no longer seemed so useless a waste of time. I must be at mine. There are many things to be seen to besides the digging of clams. I marched back along the shore, and up the path, and through the wet grass. The grass must be cut. Usually I keep it cut, but there is a dearth this year of men who work by the day, and I can get no man to help me. What is done I shall have to do myself.