Yoletta's hand was really the only thing in life I desired, but it was
too early to speak yet, as I knew nothing about their matrimonial
usages--not even whether or not the lady's consent was necessary to a
compact of the kind. I therefore made a more modest request. "There is
one thing I greatly desire," I said. "I am very anxious to be able to
read in your books, and shall consider myself more than compensated if
you will permit Yoletta to teach me."
"She shall teach you in any case, my son," he returned. "That, and much
more, is already owning to you."
"There is nothing else I desire," said I. "Pray keep the pen and make me
happy."
And thus ended a disagreeable matter.
The cloud having blown over, we all repaired to the supper-room, and
nothing could exceed our happiness as we sat at meat--or vegetables. Not
feeling so ravenously hungry as on the previous evening, and, moreover,
seeing them all in so lively a mood, I did not hesitate to join in the
conversation: nor did I succeed so very badly, considering the
strangeness of it all; for like the bee that has been much hindered at
his flowery work by geometric webs, I began to acquire some skill in
pushing my way gracefully through the tangling meshes of thought and
phrases that were new to me.
The afternoon's experiences had certainly been remarkable--a strange
mixture of pain and pleasure, not blending into homogeneous gray, but
resembling rather a bright embroidery on a dark, somber ground; and of
these surprising contrasts I was destined to have more that same
evening.
We were again assembled in the great room, the venerable father
reclining at his ease on his throne-like couch near the brass globes,
while the others pursued their various occupations as on the former
evening. Not being able to get near Yoletta, and having nothing to do, I
settled myself comfortably in one of the spacious seats, and gave up my
mind to pleasant dreams. At length, to my surprise, the father, who had
been regarding me for some time, said: "Will you lead, my son?"
I started up, turning very red in the face, for I did not wish to
trouble him with questions, yet was at a loss to know what he meant by
leading. I thought of several things--whist, evening prayers, dancing,
etc.; but being still in doubt, I was compelled to ask him to explain.
"Will you lead the singing?" he returned, looking a little surprised.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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