For three whole days he tried hard--tried with all that fixity of
purpose which had enabled him at last to slay the dragon. It was Afa’s
visit that unmanned him.
Not she nor any other of those maidens had ever come to him at the pond
in Thia’s time. If they happened to pass that way, they would gaze
straight before them, or up at the sky, greeting neither the husband
nor the wife, and simpering elaborately, as much as to say, ‘We are
unworthy.’ But now it was straight at Thol that the approaching Afa
simpered. And she said, ‘I am come to be the goat-herd’s help!’
He marvelled that there was a time when he had thought he might have
loved one of these maidens. He was not even sure that he knew which of
them this one was. He was sure only that he despised them all. And this
sentiment so contorted his mild face that there was nothing for Afa to
do but toss her head and laugh and leave him.
Presently the look of great scorn in his face was succeeded by a look
of even greater love. He arose and went in search of Thia. But he did
not in his quest of her throw dignity to the winds. He did not ask
anybody where he should find her. He walked slowly, as though bent on
no errand. It was near sunset when at length he espied his lost one
near to a lonely pool at the edge of the forest.
She did not see him. She sat busily plaiting wattles. There was a great
pile of these beside her. And in and around the pool were her geese.
It was they that saw him first, and at sight of him they began to
quack, as though in warning. Thia looked up quickly and saw Thol. He
held out his arms to her, he strode towards her, calling her name; but
she was up, she was gone into the darkness of the forest.
Long he peered into that darkness, and called into it, and even groped
through it, but vainly.
* * * * *
For people who are not accustomed to think, thought is a fatiguing
affair. Thol, despite his robust body, was tired when he awoke next
morning, for he had spent a great part of the night in wondering how to
win back his wife. In the days before he slew the dragon he had been a
constant thinker. Little by little he was now to regain the habit.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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