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STRAIT IS THE GATE 172

nothing — or pretending to see nothing of my suffering. At this moment the first bell rang. “I shall never be ready for lunch,” said she. "You must go away now.” And as if it had been nothing but play: "We will go on with this conversation another time."


We never went on with the conversation. Alissa continually eluded me; not that she ever appeared to be avoiding me; but every casual occupation became a duty of far more urgent importance. I had to wait my turn; I only came after the constantly recurring cares of the household, after she had attended to the alterations that were being carried out in the barn, after her visits to the farmers and after her visits to the poor, with whom she busied herself more and more. I had the time that was left over, and very little it was; I never saw her, but she was in a hurry — though it was still, perhaps, in the midst of these trivial occupations, and when I gave up pursuing her, that I least felt how much I had been dispossessed. The slightest talk showed it me more clearly. When Alissa granted me a few minutes, it was, indeed, for the most laborious conversation to which she lent herself as

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