Read The Boat in the Evening for Free Online Page B

make use of what she possessed so plentifully.
    Suddenly he began talking, fumbling for words.
    â€˜Yes, there is something—you mustn’t be frightened, you see.’
    She felt a shaft of ice pass through her. The certainty of what this meant, this thing he had not said, came to her by some mysterious path.
    â€˜Isn’t he coming?’
    He simply looked at her.
    She questioned him harshly the second time, and about worse things, knowing it already.
    â€˜Has he gone?’
    The boy scarcely nodded. This one was a young boy too. His eyes were bewitched now. He simply nodded.
    She did not start trembling so that the snow fell off her. She just stood. It was because of his eyes. But she felt as if the snow slid off like an avalanche. There seemed to be a roaring as when an avalanche falls. A cold wind blowing. No, she noticed then that not a flake had fallen off.
    â€˜Did he get you to come here and tell me this?’
    He would not discuss it. Had probably said enough by nodding. Stand steady, said a voice inside her.
    The messenger said something quite different.
    â€˜Don’t move. You have no idea what you look like.’
    He didn’t manage to say what he wanted. He had taken on himself too powerful a message.
    But she knew in her innermost being what she looked like. He could think what he liked. Nor was she in complete control of herself: sudden tears welled up in her eyes, quickly and briefly. Then it was as if the weather turned milder, and no more came. The young man stood watching.
    â€˜That’s good,’ he said when her tears stopped just as suddenly as they had come.
    She did not understand. She only asked, ‘Did he say why?’
    He did not answer her. Instead he said something that made her start in surprise.
    â€˜I’ll unpack you.’
    Again she heard her thoughts. Without waiting for her permission he did as he wished. He took off the worn pair of gloves he was wearing, and used his bare hands to lift off the snow crown that had built up on the boyish cap.
    â€˜Won’t be fun any more now,’ he said. ‘Think it’s stopped snowing.’
    Yes, it had stopped. She had not noticed before. It was silent and the air was mild. He shook her cap free of snow and put it on again. She was the short girl once more. He unpacked her out of the snow piled on her shoulders. She was confused by his manner of doing all this.
    Unpack you,’ he said. Over and over again. Fistful by fistful. He took his time.
    He unpacked her out of the little snowdrift on her breast. She saw that his fingers were uncertain. And so cold, she thought.
    What will he do?
    She held her breath, but all he did was go on unpacking her. Bit by bit she turned into an ordinary girl.
    â€˜That’s that,’ he said, and had finished at last. But he did not go.
    What will he do now?
    Again she held her breath. She saw he was trying to say something, and he was so strange to look at in everything he did that evening. He said unexpectedly, ‘You cried.’
    She had no answer to make. No use denying it.
    â€˜I said you cried.’
    â€˜Maybe I had reason to.’
    He said, ‘Maybe. I don’t know.’
    She snapped, ‘No, you certainly don’t know everything!’
    â€˜I’m not sorry about it,’ he said, ignoring the interruption. ‘But that’s another matter,’ he added.
    â€˜Why are you standing like that?’ she asked.
    â€˜Can’t I look at you? I feel as if I’ve never seen you before. It’s so strange,’ he added. He sounded quite helpless.
    She replied, ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’
    Then he said something: ‘My fingers are cold from unpacking you out of the snowdrifts all this time.’
    Something in her responded. ‘Are they?’
    There was more to be said. Both of them knew it. So he said it.
    â€˜Maybe I should warm you.’
    â€˜No,’ she said quickly.
    â€˜All right,’ he