The woman knelt before her weeping, but might speak no word because of
the fullness of her heart. She kissed the guest’s hands, and took the
money, and then arose and caught up her child, and kissed her bare
flesh eagerly many times, and then hastened out of the house and up the
street and through the gate; and the guest sat hearkening to the sound
of her footsteps till it died out, and there was nought to be heard
save the far-off murmur of the market, and the chirrup of the little
one on the floor.
Then arose the guest and took up the child from the floor, who kicked
and screamed, and craved her mother as her broken speech might; but the
alien spake softly to her, and said: Hush, dear one, and be good, and
we will go and find her; and she gave her therewith a sugar-plum from
out of her scrip. Then she came out of doors, and spake sweetly to the
little one: See now this pretty way-beast. We will ride merrily on him
to find thy mother.
Then she laid the child in the pannier with a soft cushion under, and a
silk cloth over her, so that she lay there happily. Then she took her
ass’s rein and went her ways over the waste toward Evilshaw; for, as ye
may deem, where the houses and the street ended, the beaten way ended
also.
Quietly and speedily she went, and met but three men on the way; and
when these saw her, and that she was making for Evilshaw, they turned
their heads away, each one, and blessed themselves, and went past
swiftly. Not one sought to stay her, or held any converse with her, and
no foot she heard following after her. So in scarce more than the
saying of a low mass she was in amongst the trees, with her ass and her
wares and her prey.
No stay she made there, but held forward at her best before the night
should fall upon her. And whatsoever might be told concerning the
creatures that other folk had met in Evilshaw, of her it must needs be
said that therein she happened on nought worser than herself.
CHAPTER II.
NOW SHALL BE TOLD OF THE HOUSE BY THE WATER-SIDE.
Four days they wended the wood, and nought befell to tell of. The
witch-wife (for even such was she) fed the stolen child well and duly,
and whiles caressed her and spake sweetly unto her; whiles also she
would take her out of the pannier, and set her on the ass’s back and
hold her thereon heedfully; or, otherwhiles, when they came upon grassy
and flowery places, she would set her down on the ground and let her
roam about, and pluck the flowers and the strawberries. And whoso might
be sorry, the child was glad, so many things new and fair as she came
upon.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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