Now though, after my first startled glance, I kept my eyes averted, I
could not help being very conscious of these white feet as they
splashed and dabbled beside me and of their slim shapeliness.
"Diana, have you indeed no soul?" I repeated.
"If I have, it don't trouble me much!" she answered. "Why don't you
dabble your feet; 'tis better than drinking?"
"O girl," I sighed, "have you no thought beyond your immediate bodily
needs, no dreams of the greater--"
"Dreams?" she exclaimed bitterly. "It don't do for the likes o' me to
go a-dreaming! Let them dream as can afford."
"But even the poorest, humblest of us may have our dreams, Diana,
visions of a greater self and nobler living. Dreams are the soul's
relaxation and inspire us to higher purpose. I think it is this
faculty that lifts us above the brute creation."
Here, finding my companion silent, I glanced up to behold her watching
a man who was approaching astride of a shaggy, bare-backed pony, a
dark-complexioned, impudent-looking fellow with bright eyes and a wide
mouth. At sight of us, he checked his steed with a jerk of the halter,
smote his boot with the stout ash stick he carried, and burst into a
shout of laughter. Here again I became extremely conscious of Diana's
pretty, naked feet; but the fellow never even so much as glanced
towards them.
"Aha, Anna!" he cried. "Whose mother's j'y ha' ye got theer?" and he
pointed at me. At this she turned and spoke angrily in that unknown
speech she had used with old Azor and in which he answered her.
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