by Willa Cather
V
Alexandra did not find time to go to her neighbor's the next day, northe next. It was a busy season on the farm, with the corn-plowinggoing on, and even Emil was in the field with a team and cultivator.Carl went about over the farms with Alexandra in the morning, andin the afternoon and evening they found a great deal to talk about.Emil, for all his track practice, did not stand up under farmworkvery well, and by night he was too tired to talk or even to practiseon his cornet.
On Wednesday morning Carl got up before it was light, and stoledownstairs and out of the kitchen door just as old Ivar was makinghis morning ablutions at the pump. Carl nodded to him and hurriedup the draw, past the garden, and into the pasture where the milkingcows used to be kept.
The dawn in the east looked like the light from some great fire thatwas burning under the edge of the world. The color was reflectedin the globules of dew that sheathed the short gray pasture grass.Carl walked rapidly until he came to the crest of the second hill,where the Bergson pasture joined the one that had belonged to hisfather. There he sat down and waited for the sun to rise. It wasjust there that he and Alexandra used to do their milking together, heon his side of the fence, she on hers. He could remember exactlyhow she looked when she came over the close-cropped grass, herskirts pinned up, her head bare, a bright tin pail in either hand,and the milky light of the early morning all about her. Even asa boy he used to feel, when he saw her coming with her free step,her upright head and calm shoulders, that she looked as if she hadwalked straight out of the morning itself. Since then, when he hadhappened to see the sun come up in the country or on the water, hehad often remembered the young Swedish girl and her milking pails.
Carl sat musing until the sun leaped above the prairie, and in thegrass about him all the small creatures of day began to tune theirtiny instruments. Birds and insects without number began to chirp,to twitter, to snap and whistle, to make all manner of fresh shrillnoises. The pasture was flooded with light; every clump of ironweedand snow-on-the-mountain threw a long shadow, and the golden lightseemed to be rippling through the curly grass like the tide racingin.
He crossed the fence into the pasture that was now the Shabatas' andcontinued his walk toward the pond. He had not gone far, however,when he discovered that he was not the only person abroad. In thedraw below, his gun in his hands, was Emil, advancing cautiously,with a young woman beside him. They were moving softly, keepingclose together, and Carl knew that they expected to find ducks onthe pond. At the moment when they came in sight of the bright spotof water, he heard a whirr of wings and the ducks shot up into theair. There was a sharp crack from the gun, and five of the birdsfell to the ground. Emil and his companion laughed delightedly,and Emil ran to pick them up. When he came back, dangling theducks by their feet, Marie held her apron and he dropped them intoit. As she stood looking down at them, her face changed. Shetook up one of the birds, a rumpled ball of feathers with the blooddripping slowly from its mouth, and looked at the live color thatstill burned on its plumage.
As she let it fall, she cried in distress, "Oh, Emil, why did you?"
"I like that!" the boy exclaimed indignantly. "Why, Marie, youasked me to come yourself."
"Yes, yes, I know," she said tearfully, "but I didn't think. Ihate to see them when they are first shot. They were having sucha good time, and we've spoiled it all for them."
Emil gave a rather sore laugh. "I should say we had! I'm not goinghunting with you any more. You're as bad as Ivar. Here, let metake them." He snatched the ducks out of her apron.
"Don't be cross, Emil. Only--Ivar's right about wild things. They'retoo happy to kill. You can tell just how they felt when they flewup. They were scared, but they didn't really think anything couldhurt them. No, we won't do that any more."
"All right," Emil assented. "I'm sorry I made you feel bad." Ashe looked down into her tearful eyes, there was a curious, sharpyoung bitterness in his own.
Carl watched them as they moved slowly down the draw. They hadnot seen him at all. He had not overheard much of their dialogue,but he felt the import of it. It made him, somehow, unreasonablymournful to find two young things abroad in the pasture in theearly morning. He decided that he needed his breakfast.
