'I do not know.'
She did not; she had never thought of the matter; her mind was blank, though her body was vigorous. Then she added after a little thought:
'I will give myself to the sea; that is the way I will die.'
'You! I speak of myself.'
'I will die if you do.'
Joconda looked at her amazed and keenly touched.
'Do you love me so much then?' she cried suddenly.
'Is that love?' said the child. 'I should not like to live if you were not here; I do not know if you call that love.'
'It is love,' said Joconda.
She felt her eyes full of the slow tears of age, tears salt as the crystals the sea left on the shore. 'Ah, my dear, my dear!' she muttered, 'It is not myself that will cause you to die for love, but it may be some other—when I am gone and cannot help you! Ah, child, why were you born?'
Musa did not hear; she was standing with her brown hand on the white head of her dog looking out seaward; the words that had been spoken had not saddened her
