Читать книгу Timar's Two Worlds - Mór Jókai - Страница 11

The speakers approached each other with surprise.

The other person was Therese. "You have come down from your bed?" she asked.

"Yes; I could not sleep."

"And what did you want with Almira?"

"I will tell you the truth. The thought struck me, whether that … man had poisoned the dog, because she became so suddenly silent."

"Just my idea. Almira!" At the call the dog came out of the hole and wagged her tail.

"No; it's all right," said Therese. "His bed on the veranda is undisturbed. Come, Almira, I will set you free."

The great creature laid her head on her mistress's lap, and allowed her to take off the leather collar, sprung round her, licked her cheeks, and then turned to Timar, raised one of the shaggy paws, and placed it as a proof of doggish respect in his open hand. Then the dog shook herself, stretched herself out, and, after a roll on both sides, lay quiet on the soft grass. She barked no more; they could be thoroughly satisfied that that man no longer remained on the island.

Therese came nearer to Timar. "Do you know this man?"

"I once met him in Galatz. He came on board and behaved so that I could not make up my mind whether he was a spy or a smuggler. At last I got rid of him, and that concluded our acquaintance."

"And how came you by the notion that he might have poisoned Almira?"

"To tell you the truth, every word spoken down below is audible in the garret, and as I had lain down I was forced to hear all the conversation between you."

"Did you hear how he threatened me? If I could not satisfy him, it would only cost him a single word, and we should be ruined?"

"Yes; I heard that."

"And what do you think about us? You believe that some great, nameless crime has banished us to this island outside the world? that we drive some dubious trade, of which one can not speak? or that we are the homeless heirs of some dishonored name, who must hide from the sight of the authorities? Say, what do you think?"

"Nothing, my dear lady; I don't trouble my head about it. You have given me hospitable shelter for a night, and I am grateful. The storm is over; to-morrow I shall go on my way, and think no more of what I saw and heard on this island."

"I do not want you to leave us so. Without your desire you have heard things which must be explained to you. I do not know why, but from the first moment when I saw you, you inspired me with confidence, and the thought troubles me that you should leave us with suspicion and contempt: that suspicion would prevent both you and me from sleeping under this roof. The night is quiet, and suitable to the story of the secrets of a hard life. You shall form your own judgment about us; I will conceal nothing, and tell you the whole truth, and when you have heard the history of this lonely island and this clay hut, you won't say, 'To-morrow I go away and think no more of it,' but you will come back year by year, when your business brings you near us, and rest for a night under this peaceful roof. Sit down by me on the doorstep, and listen to the story of our house."