was, and he was not. Instinct prompted him to fly hence, and yet held him here so that he could not stir.
When he heard Krista’s song above, everything pressed him to reply. She sang a song from the hill-side, she sang what she had once sung with him in the villages. Had he had his violin with him, he would have answered—he would have announced his presence. For a minute or two he thought he must run and fetch his violin, and that he must announce his presence. But he never went. Then he ruminated. If he had gone for his violin, and had played under the windows, it would have been peculiar: Krista would have heard him, and what then? Would she have started? or would she have continued to sing and jest? Would the song and jest have deserted her? Granted that it did desert her, then everything would have cleared away from her and Venik have been left in the street alone, and she would have been alone in yonder house. If he were to play below her window, she would be left desolate, her guests would disperse, and what he saw and heard would be all over. So in his ruminations he came to this conclusion, that it lay in him to say how long they had for the jest and for the song. If he should say, “Hold! enough!” it would be enough. He granted them that feast; he prolonged it for them; and which of them had the least idea that so it was?
Verily Venik smiled to himself to think what a puissant lord he was, until he began to feel an arrogant conviction that everything which happened on that first floor was under his control.
But he did nothing, and yet he waited until everything was at an end. Gentry and ladies dispersed from Krista’s house, and throughout the first floor silence began to reign. In the street where he stood not a living soul was to be heard.
The lights in Krista’s window were extinguished and then a single window opened. It was a warm summer night and the window could remain open all night long.
The moon shone just in the direction of Krista’s window, and Venik stood in the shadow of the opposite houses.
From Krista’s window a head peeped out, and perhaps it was her head. Venik at that time stood facing her and was alone. Even she was alone at last. Then the head vanished and did not appear again.
If he had wished to address her, he could have done so before, but now it was too late. And what was there to say? Where to begin and where to end? His speech might need to be a very
