Page:Balkan Short Stories.djvu/180

168 the song died away upon the darkness. Then he told me his story. Here are the words:

“When I think of her I am overwhelmed with grief and longing. I saw her first in the forest. I was hunting quail, but the heat was so great I was forced to seek shelter of the trees. She stood near wdth her herd, stitching busily on a bright colored apron. I paused to look at her. I had never seen such a beauty before. It was not easy to find words to address her. At last I asked her, I think, the way to the village. She did not answer at once. She seemed more engrossed in her sewing and she did not even look at me. I repeated the question, whereupon she replied in an unfriendly manner, and more with her hand than with words.

“Fearful heat!” I exclaimed, wiping the perspiration from my forehead. I took the gun from my shoulder and seated myself upon a tree stump.

The girl acted as if I were not there.

“Who are you, child?”

She did not answer. She moved on a little way as if she were about to follow the herd.

“Can’t you open your mouth?” I began