But for the world he cared nothing; he
smiled blandly in its teeth. All life is a dream; if wine and philosophy
and women keep the dream from becoming a nightmare, so much the better. It
is all they are fit for, all they can be used for. There was another side
to his life and thought; but of that the world knew nothing, and said
nothing, as the way of the wise world is.
The stranger looked from beneath his sleepy eyelids at the brown earth that
stretched away, beautiful in spite of itself in that June sunshine; looked
at the graves, the gables of the farmhouse showing over the stone walls of
the camps, at the clownish fellow at his feet, and yawned. But he had
drunk of the hind's tea, and must say something.
"Your father's place I presume?" he inquired sleepily.
"No; I am only a servant."
"Dutch people?"
"Yes."
"And you like the life?"
The boy hesitated.
"On days like these."
"And why on these?"
The boy waited.
"They are very beautiful."
The stranger looked at him. It seemed that as the fellow's dark eyes
looked across the brown earth they kindled with an intense satisfaction;
then they looked back at the carving.
What had that creature, so coarse-clad and clownish, to do with the subtle
joys of the weather? Himself, white-handed and delicate, he might hear the
music with shimmering sunshine and solitude play on the finely-strung
chords of nature; but that fellow! Was not the ear in that great body too
gross for such delicate mutterings?
Presently he said:
"May I see what you work at?"
The fellow handed his wooden post.
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