Longren spent the night on the sea. He neither slept nor fished. He sailed in no definite direction, listening to the lapping of the water, peering into the darkness, exposing his face to the wind and thinking. In hard hours of his life nothing recovered his peace of mind better than those lonely wanderings. Silence, just silence and solitude, was all he needed to make the weakest and the most confused voices of his inner world sound distinctly. That night he thought about their future, poverty and Asoule. It was extremely difficult for him to leave her even for a short while. Besides, he feared to revive the pain that had abated. Perhaps, when he became employed on a ship, he would imagine again that his helpmate had never died and was waiting for him there, in Kaperna. Then, coming back, he would go up to his house with grief of frustrated waiting. Mary would never go out of the house to meet him any more. But he wanted Asoule to have her daily bread, and so he made up his mind to do what his concern dictated him.
When Longren came back, the girl was not home yet. Her early walks did not disturb her father. That time, however, there was light tenseness in his waiting. Pacing up and down the room, on one of his turns he suddenly saw Asoule right away. Having come in abruptly and silently, she stood in front of him without a word and nearly frightened him with the light of her eyes reflecting excitement. It seemed as if she revealed her other self – the real self of a person that can be usually read only in his eyes. She kept silent looking Longren in the face so incomprehensibly that he made haste to ask her: “Are you unwell?”
She answered not right away. When the meaning of the question at last reached her inner hearing, Asoule started like a twig touched with a hand and gave a long smooth laugh of quiet exultation. She had to say something but, as always, she did not need to think of what she would say. She said: “No, I am well... Why are you looking like this? I’m enjoying myself. It’s true, I’m enjoying myself, but it’s just because the day is so nice. And what have you got on your mind? I can really read in your face that you’ve made up your mind to do something.”
“Whatever I’ve got on my mind,” Longren said, seating the girl on his lap, “I know, you will understand what I mean. We have nothing to live on. I will not go for a long voyage any more. Instead I’ll get a job on the mail-boat that runs between Kasset and Liss.”
“Yes,” she said as if from far away, making efforts to enter into his concerns and situation and realizing, to her shame, that she was unable to stop rejoicing. “That’s too bad. I’ll miss you. Come back as soon as you can. While she was saying that, her face was wreathed in irrepressible smiles. “Yes, as soon as you can, dear. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Asoule!” Longren said, taking her head in his palms and turning her face towards him. “Tell me, what’s up?”
She felt that she had to drive away his alarm and so, overcoming her exultation, she became serious and attentive. Only her eyes still shone with something new living in them. “You are strange,” she said. “It’s absolutely nothing. I was out gathering nuts.”
Longren would not quite belive that, if he were not so engaged with his thoughts. Their talk became practical and detailed. The sailor told his daughter to pack up his bag. He enumerated all the things he needed and gave her some pieces of advice.
“I’ll be back in about ten days. You are to pawn my gun and stay at home. If somebody means to hurt you, tell him Longren is coming back soon. Don’t think much or worry about me. Nothing bad will happen to me.”
After that he had some food, kissed the girl warmly, shouldered the bag and went out on the road that led to town. Asoule followed him with her eyes until he passed out of sight at the turn. Then she came back. Quite a lot of housework lay in wait for her, but she forgot about that. She looked around with interest of slight surprise, as if she did not already live in that house. It had rooted itself in her conscience from her childhood, so she always seemed to carry it in her heart. At that time, however, it looked like a native home visited after a number of years spent in another way of life. But it seemed to her that there was something unworthy, something wrong in that her denial. She sat down at the table where Longren used to make toys, and tried to stick a helm to the stern. Looking at those objects, she involuntarily saw them as large, real ones. All that had happened in the morning surged up within her in a shiver of excitement. And the golden ring, as big as the sun, dropped from across the sea to her feet.
Not being able to keep her place, she left the house and set off to Liss. She had absolutely nothing to do there. She did not know what she was going for, but she could not help going. On the way she met a foot-passenger who wanted to know some direction. She explained clearly everything he needed and forgot about that right away.
She did not notice how she had passed all that long way, as if she carried a bird that preoccupied all her careful attention. Near the town she was distracted a little by the noise heard from its enormous round space. But it did not have power over her, as it had been before, when frightening and pressing upon her, it had turned her into a speechless coward. She withstood it. She walked slowly along the ring-shaped boulevard, crossing the dark blue shadows of trees and casting her eyes trustfully and easily at the faces of passers-by, and her even step was full of confidence. More than once during the day the observant sort of people took notice of the unknown girl, strange in appearance, who passed through the lively crowd with an air of deep meditation. On the square she put her hand in the jet of a fountain, running her fingers over the deflected spray. Then she sat down, took some rest and went back on the forest road. She made her way back with a renewed spirit, in a mood as peaceful and serene as an evening stream, when its many-coloured reflections of the day has finally given way to the smooth twilight glimmering of its waters. Coming nearer to the village, she saw the very coal-heaver who had fancied he saw his basket breaking into bloom. He stood by his cart with two dismal strangers covered with soot and mud. Asoule was glad to see him.
“Hello, Philip!” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“Nothing, you little fly. The wheel came off. I fixed it. Now I am smoking a little and chatting with our boys. Where are you coming from?”
Asoule did not reply.
“You know, Philip,” she spoke to him again, “I like you very much and so I am going to tell you something, just you. I will leave soon. Probably I will leave for good. But don’t tell anybody about that.”
“Is that you who is going to leave? Where on earth are you going?” the coal-heaver wondered, opening his mouth inquiringly, so his beard seemed longer.
“I don’t know.” She slowly glanced over the glade beneath the elm-tree where the waggon was, the green grass in the rose-coloured light of the evening, and the black silent coalers. Then, having thought a little, she added: “I am not aware of all that. I know neither the day nor the time, and I do not even know, where I am to go. I will tell you nothing more. Therefore, goodbye, just in case. You’ve often given me a lift.”
She took his huge black hand and put it in a shaking position not without effort. The crack of a fixed smile opened wide on the worker’s face. The girl nodded, turned and stepped back. She disappeared so quickly that Philip and his mates did not have time to turn their heads.
“Well, well!” the coal-heaver said. “You just try to understand what she means. There’s something going on with her today...”
“That’s right,” the second man agreed. “Whether she talks, or tries to persuade somebody. That’s none of our business.”
“None of our business,” the third man also said, heaving a sigh. Then all three of them got into the cart, which started off rumbling down the stony road, and lost themselves in the dust.