He ate and drank with both hands, and funny enough he looked in the mist, like a big bird flapping its wings; there was a good smell of coffee, and I sneezed.How the fellow started! But presently he took a pitchfork and prodded the straw.Then I stood up.I couldn't help laughing, he was so surprised--a huge, dark man, with a great black beard.I pointed to the fire and said 'Give me some, brother!'
He pulled me out of the straw; I was so stiff, I couldn't move.Isat by the fire, and ate black bread and turnips, and drank coffee;while he stood by, watching me and muttering.I couldn't understand him well--he spoke a dialect from Hungary.He asked me: How I got there--who I was--where I was from? I looked up in his face, and he looked down at me, sucking his pipe.He was a big man, he lived alone on the river, and I was tired of telling lies, so I told him the whole thing.When I had done he just grunted.I can see him now standing over me, with the mist hanging in his beard, and his great naked arms.He drew me some water, and I washed and showed him my wig and moustache, and threw them overboard.All that day we lay out on the barge in the mist, with our feet to the fire, smoking; now and then he would spit into the ashes and mutter into his beard.I shall never forget that day.The steamer was like a monster with fiery nostrils, and the other barges were dumb creatures with eyes, where the fires were; we couldn't see the bank, but now and then a bluff and high trees, or a castle, showed in the mist.If I had only had paint and canvas that day!" He sighed.
"It was early Spring, and the river was in flood; they were going to Regensburg to unload there, take fresh cargo, and back to Linz.As soon as the mist began to clear, the bargeman hid me in the straw.
At Passau was the frontier; they lay there for the night, but nothing happened, and I slept in the straw.The next day I lay out on the barge deck; there was no mist, but I was free--the sun shone gold on the straw and the green sacking; the water seemed to dance, and Ilaughed--I laughed all the time, and the barge man laughed with me.
A fine fellow he was! At Regensburg I helped them to unload; for more than a week we worked; they nicknamed me baldhead, and when it was all over I gave the money I earned for the unloading to the big bargeman.We kissed each other at parting.I had still three of the gulden that Luigi gave me, and I went to a house-painter and got work with him.For six months I stayed there to save money; then I wrote to my mother's cousin in Vienna, and told him I was going to London.
He gave me an introduction to some friends there.I went to Hamburg, and from there to London in a cargo steamer, and I've never been back till now."XI
After a minute's silence Christian said in a startled voice: "They could arrest you then!"Harz laughed.
"If they knew; but it's seven years ago.""Why did you come here, when it's so dangerous?""I had been working too hard, I wanted to see my country--after seven years, and when it's forbidden! But I'm ready to go back now." He looked down at her, frowning.
"Had you a hard time in London, too?"
"Harder, at first--I couldn't speak the language.In my profession it's hard work to get recognised, it's hard work to make a living.
There are too many whose interest it is to keep you down--I shan't forget them.""But every one is not like that?"
"No; there are fine fellows, too.I shan't forget them either.Ican sell my pictures now; I'm no longer weak, and I promise you Ishan't forget.If in the future I have power, and I shall have power--I shan't forget."A shower of fine gravel came rattling on the wall.Dawney was standing below them with an amused expression on his upturned face.
"Are you going to stay there all night?" he asked."Greta and I have bored each other.""We're coming," called Christian hastily.
On the way back neither spoke a word, but when they reached the Villa, Harz took her hand, and said: "Fraulein Christian, I can't do any more with your picture.I shan't touch it again after this."She made no answer, but they looked at each other, and both seemed to ask, to entreat, something more; then her eyes fell.He dropped her hand, and saying, "Good-night," ran after Dawney.
In the corridor, Dominique, carrying a dish of fruit, met the sisters; he informed them that Miss Naylor had retired to bed; that Herr Paul would not be home to dinner; his master was dining in his room; dinner would be served for Mrs.Decie and the two young ladies in a quarter of an hour: "And the fish is good to-night; little trouts! try them, Signorina!" He moved on quickly, softly, like a cat, the tails of his dress-coat flapping, and the heels of his white socks gleaming.
Christian ran upstairs.She flew about her room, feeling that if she once stood still it would all crystallise in hard painful thought, which motion alone kept away.She washed, changed her dress and shoes, and ran down to her uncle's room.Mr.Treffry had just finished dinner, pushed the little table back, and was sitting in his chair, with his glasses on his nose, reading the Tines.Christian touched his forehead with her lips.
"Glad to see you, Chris.Your stepfather's out to dinner, and Ican't stand your aunt when she's in one of her talking moods--bit of a humbug, Chris, between ourselves; eh, isn't she?" His eyes twinkled.
Christian smiled.There was a curious happy restlessness in her that would not let her keep still.
"Picture finished?" Mr.Treffry asked suddenly, taking up the paper with a crackle."Don't go and fall in love with the painter, Chris."Christian was still enough now.
'Why not?' she thought.'What should you know about him? Isn't he good enough for me?' A gong sounded.
"There's your dinner," Mr.Treffry remarked.
With sudden contrition she bent and kissed him.
But when she had left the room Mr.Treffry put down the Times and stared at the door, humming to himself, and thoughtfully fingering his chin.
Christian could not eat; she sat, indifferent to the hoverings of Dominique, tormented by uneasy fear and longings.She answered Mrs.
