shadows drew across the fields so rapidly that Nils could scarcely
keep in sight the dark figure on the road. When he overtook her he
caught her horse by the bridle. Norman reared, and Nils was
frightened for her; but Clara kept her seat.

"Let me go, Nils Ericson!" she cried. "I hate you more than any of
them. You were created to torture me, the whole tribe of you--to
make me suffer in every possible way."

She struck her horse again and galloped away from him. Nils set his
teeth and looked thoughtful. He rode slowly home along the deserted
road, watching the stars come out in the clear violet sky. They
flashed softly into the limpid heavens, like jewels let fall into
clear water. They were a reproach, he felt, to a sordid world. As he
turned across the sand creek, he looked up at the North Star and
smiled, as if there were an understanding between them. His mother
scolded him for being late for supper.

V

On Sunday afternoon Joe Vavrika, in his shirt-sleeves and
carpet-slippers, was sitting in his garden, smoking a long-tasseled
porcelain pipe with a hunting scene painted on the bowl. Clara sat
under the cherry tree, reading aloud to him from the weekly Bohemian
papers. She had worn a white muslin dress under her riding-habit,
and the leaves of the cherry tree threw a pattern of sharp shadows
over her skirt. The black cat was dozing in the sunlight at her
feet, and Joe's dachshund was scratching a hole under the scarlet
geraniums and dreaming of badgers. Joe was filling his pipe for the
third time since dinner, when he heard a knocking on the fence. He
broke into a loud guffaw and unlatched the little door that led into
the street. He did not call Nils by name, but caught him by the hand
and dragged him in. Clara stiffened and the color deepened under her
dark skin. Nils, too, felt a little awkward. He had not seen her
since the night when she rode away from him and left him alone on
the level road between the fields. Joe dragged him to the wooden
bench beside the green table.

"You bring de flute," he cried, tapping the leather case under Nils'
arm. "Ah, das-a good! Now we have some liddle fun like old times. I
got somet'ing good for you." Joe shook his finger at Nils and winked
his blue eyes, a bright clear eye, full of fire, though the tiny
blood-vessels on the ball were always a little distended. "I got
somet'ing for you from"--he paused and waved his hand--"Hongarie.
You know Hongarie? You wait!" He pu