Kurler has kissed Christine, and now he is away.
24
Christine stood rigid like a
frozen stone,
Her hands wrung pale in effort at control.
Max moved aside and let her be alone,
For grief exacts each penny of its toll.
The dancing boat tossed on the glinting sea.
A sun-path swallowed it in
flaming light,
Then, shrunk a cockleshell, it came again
Upon the other side. Now on the lee
It took the "Horn of Fortune". Straining sight
Could see it hauled
aboard, men pulling on the crane.
25
Then up above the eager brigantine,
Along her
slender masts, the sails took flight,
Were sheeted home, and ropes were coiled. The shine
Of the wet
anchor, when its heavy weight
Rose splashing to the deck. These things they saw,
Christine and Max, upon the
crowded quay.
They saw the sails grow white, then blue in shade,
The ship had turned, caught in a windy flaw
She glided imperceptibly away,
Drew farther off and in the bright sky seemed to fade.
26
Home, through the emptying streets, Max took Christine,
Who would have hid her sorrow from his gaze.
Before the iron
gateway, clasped between
Each garden wall, he stopped. She, in amaze,
Asked, "Do you enter not then, Mynheer Breuck?
My father told me of your courtesy.
Since I am now your
charge, 'tis meet for me
To show such
hospitality as
maiden may,
Without disdaining rules must not be broke.
Katrina will have coffee, and she bakes today."
27
She straight unhasped the tall, beflowered gate.
Curled into tendrils, twisted into cones
Of leaves and roses, iron infoliate,
It guards the pleasance, and its stiffened bones
Are budded with much peering at the rows,
And beds, and arbours, which it keeps inside.
Max started at the beauty, at the glare
Of tints. At either end was set a wide
Path
strewn with fine, red
gravel, and such shows
Of tulips in their splendour flaunted everywhere!
28
From side to side,
midway each path, there ran
A longer one which cut the space in two.
And, like a
tunnel some magician
Has
wrought in twinkling green, an alley grew,
Pleached thick and walled with apple trees; their flowers
Incensed the garden, and when Autumn came
The plump and heavy apples crowding stood
And tapped against the arbour. Then the dame
Katrina shook them down, in pelting showers
They plunged to earth, and died transformed to sugared food.
29
Against the high, encircling walls were grapes,
Nailed close to feel the
baking of the sun
From glowing bricks. Their
microscopic shapes
Half
hidden by serrated leaves. And one
Old
cherry tossed its branches near the door.
Bordered along the wall, in beds between,
Flickering, streaming, nodding in the air,
The pride of all the garden, there were more
Tulips than Max had ever dreamed or seen.
They jostled, mobbed, and danced. Max stood at
helpless stare.
30
"Within the arbour, Mynheer Breuck, I'll bring
Coffee and cakes, a pipe, and Father's best
Tobacco, brought from countries harbouring
Dawn's earliest
footstep. Wait." With girlish zest
To please her guest she flew. A moment more
She came again, with her old nurse behind.
Then, sitting on the bench and
knitting fast,
She talked as someone with a noble store
Of
hidden fancies, blown upon the wind,
Eager to
flutter forth and leave their silent past.
31
The little apple leaves above their heads
Let fall a quivering
sunshine. Quiet, cool,
In blossomed boughs they sat. Beyond, the beds
Of tulips blazed, a proper vestibule
And antechamber to the
rainbow. Dyes
Of prismed
richness: Carmine. Madder. Blues
Tinging dark browns to
purple. Silvers flushed
To amethyst and tinct with gold. Round eyes
Of
scarlet, spotting tender saffron hues.
Violets sunk to blacks, and reds in orange crushed.
32
Of every pattern and in every shade.
Nacreous,
iridescent, mottled, checked.
Some purest sulphur-yellow, others made
An ivory-white with disks of
copper flecked.
Sprinkled and
striped, tasselled, or keenest edged.
Striated, powdered,
freckled, long or short.
They bloomed, and seemed strange wonder-moths new-fledged,
Born of the
spectrumwedded to a flame.
The shade within the arbour made a port
To o'ertaxed eyes, its still, green
twilight rest became.
33
Her
knitting-needles clicked and Christine talked,
This child matured to woman unaware,
The first time left alone. Now dreams once balked
Found
utterance. Max thought her very fair.
Beneath her cap her ornaments shone gold,
And purest gold they were. Kurler was rich
And heedful. Her old
maiden aunt had died
Whose
darling care she was. Now, growing bold,
She asked, had Max a sister? Dropped a stitch
At her own
candour. Then she paused and
softly sighed.
34
Two years was long! She loved her father well,
But fears she had not. He had always been
Just sailed or sailing. And she must not dwell
On sad thoughts, he had told her so, and seen
Her smile at
parting. But she sighed once more.
Two years was long; 'twas not one hour yet!
Mynheer Grootver she would not see at all.
Yes, yes, she knew, but ere the date so set,
The "Horn of Fortune" would be at the wall.
When Max had bid
farewell, she watched him from the door.
35
The next day, and the next, Max went to ask
The health of Jufvrouw Kurler, and the news:
Another tulip blown, or the great task
Of
gathering petals which the high wind strews;
The polishing of floors, the pictured tiles
Well scrubbed, and oaken chairs most
deftly oiled.
Such things were Christine's world, and his was she
Winter drew near, his sun was in her smiles.
Another Spring, and at his law he toiled,
Unspoken hope counselled a wise efficiency.
36
Max Breuck was honour's soul, he knew himself
The
guardian of this girl; no more, no less.
As one in
charge of guineas on a shelf
Loose in a china teapot, may confess
His need, but may not borrow till his friend
Comes back to give. So Max, in honour, said
No word of love or marriage; but the days
He clipped off on his
almanac. The end
Must come! The second year, with feet of lead,
Lagged slowly by till Spring had plumped the
willow sprays.
37
Two years had made Christine a woman grown,
With
dignity and
gently certain pride.
But all her
childhood fancies had not flown,
Her thoughts in lovely dreamings seemed to glide.
Max was her trusted friend, did she confess
A closer happiness? Max could not tell.
Two years were over and his life he found
Sphered and complete. In
restless eagerness
He waited for the "Horn of Fortune". Well
Had he his promise kept, abating not one pound.
38
Spring slipped away to Summer. Still no glass
Sighted the brigantine. Then Grootver came
Demanding Jufvrouw Kurler. His trespass
Was justified, for he had won the game.
Christine begged time, more time! Midsummer went,
And Grootver waxed
impatient. Still the ship
Tarried. Christine, betrayed and weary, sank
To
dreadful terrors. One day, crazed, she sent
For Max. "Come quickly," said her note, "I skip
The worst
distress until we meet. The world is blank."
39
Through the long
sunshine of late afternoon
Max went to her. In the pleached alley, lost
In bitter reverie, he found her soon.
And sitting down beside her, at the cost
Of all his secret, "Dear," said he, "what thing
So suddenly has happened?" Then, in tears,
She told that Grootver, on the following morn,
Would come to marry her, and shuddering:
"I will die rather, death has
lesser fears."
Max felt the shackles drop from the oath which he had sworn.
40
"My Dearest One, the hid joy of my heart!
I love you, oh! you must indeed have known.
In strictest honour I have played my part;
But all this
misery has overthrown
My scruples. If you love me, marry me
Before the sun has dipped behind those trees.
You cannot be wed twice, and Grootver, foiled,
Can eat his anger. My care it shall be
To pay your father's debt, by such degrees
As I can
compass, and for years I've greatly toiled.
41
This is not haste, Christine, for long I've known
My love, and silence forced upon my lips.
I
worship you with all the strength I've shown
In keeping faith." With pleading finger tips
He touched her arm. "Christine! Beloved! Think.
Let us not tempt the future. Dearest, speak,
I love you. Do my words fall too swift now?
They've been in leash so long upon the brink."
She sat quite still, her body loose and weak.
Then into him she melted, all her soul at flow.
42
And they were married ere the westering sun