The Lost Girl Part 39

She was up in time, and watching the clock. It was a grey morning, but not raining. At five minutes to nine, she hurried off to Mrs.

Rollings. In the back yard the bicycles were out, glittering and muddy according to their owners. Ciccio was crouching mending a tire, crouching balanced on his toes, near the earth. He turned like a quick-eared animal glancing up as she approached, but did not rise.

"Are you getting ready to go?" she said, looking down at him. He screwed his head round to her unwillingly, upside down, his chin tilted up at her. She did not know him thus inverted. Her eyes rested on his face, puzzled. His chin seemed so large, aggressive.

He was a little bit repellent and brutal, inverted. Yet she continued:

"Would you help me to carry back the things we brought for Madame?"

He rose to his feet, but did not look at her. He was wearing broken cycling shoes. He stood looking at his bicycle tube.

"Not just yet," she said. "I want to say good-bye to Madame. Will you come in half an hour?"

"Yes, I will come," he said, still watching his bicycle tube, which sprawled nakedly on the floor. The forward drop of his head was curiously beautiful to her, the straight, powerful nape of the neck, the delicate shape of the back of the head, the black hair. The way the neck sprang from the strong, loose shoulders was beautiful.

There was something mindless but _intent_ about the forward reach of his head. His face seemed colourless, neutral-tinted and expressionless.

She went indoors. The young men were moving about making preparations.

"Come upstairs, Miss Houghton!" called Madame's voice from above.

Alvina mounted, to find Madame packing.

"It is an uneasy moment, when we are busy to move," said Madame, looking up at Alvina as if she were a stranger.

"I'm afraid I'm in the way. But I won't stay a minute."

"Oh, it is all right. Here are the things you brought--" Madame indicated a little pile--"and thank you _very_ much, _very_ much. I feel you saved my life. And now let me give you one little token of my grat.i.tude. It is not much, because we are not millionaires in the Natcha-Kee-Tawara. Just a little remembrance of our troublesome visit to Woodhouse."

She presented Alvina with a pair of exquisite bead moccasins, woven in a weird, lovely pattern, with soft deerskin soles and sides.

"They belong to Kishwegin, so it is Kishwegin who gives them to you, because she is grateful to you for saving her life, or at least from a long illness."

"Oh--but I don't want to take them--" said Alvina.

"You don't like them? Why?"

"I think they're lovely, lovely! But I don't want to take them from you--"

"If I give them, you do not take them from me. You receive them.

He?" And Madame pressed back the slippers, opening her plump jewelled hands in a gesture of finality.

"But I don't like to take _these_," said Alvina. "I feel they belong to Natcha-Kee-Tawara. And I don't want to rob Natcha-Kee-Tawara, do I? Do take them back."

"No, I have given them. You cannot rob Natcha-Kee-Tawara in taking a pair of shoes--impossible!"

"And I'm sure they are much too small for me."

"Ha!" exclaimed Madame. "It is that! Try."

"I know they are," said Alvina, laughing confusedly.

She sat down and took off her own shoe. The moccasin was a little too short--just a little. But it was charming on the foot, charming.

"Yes," said Madame. "It is too short. Very well. I must find you something else."

"Please don't," said Alvina. "Please don't find me anything. I don't want anything. Please!"

"What?" said Madame, eyeing her closely. "You don't want? Why? You don't want anything from Natcha-Kee-Tawara, or from Kishwegin? He?

From which?"

"Don't give me anything, please," said Alvina.

"All right! All right then. I won't. I won't give you anything. I can't give you anything you want from Natcha-Kee-Tawara."

And Madame busied herself again with the packing.

"I'm awfully sorry you are going," said Alvina.

"Sorry? Why? Yes, so am I sorry we shan't see you any more. Yes, so I am. But perhaps we shall see you another time--he? I shall send you a post-card. Perhaps I shall send one of the young men on his bicycle, to bring you something which I shall buy for you. Yes?

Shall I?"

"Oh! I should be awfully glad--but don't buy--" Alvina checked herself in time. "Don't buy anything. Send me a little thing from Natcha-Kee-Tawara. I _love_ the slippers--"

"But they are too small," said Madame, who had been watching her with black eyes that read every motive. Madame too had her avaricious side, and was glad to get back the slippers. "Very well--very well, I will do that. I will send you some small thing from Natcha-Kee-Tawara, and one of the young men shall bring it.

Perhaps Ciccio? He?"

"Thank you _so_ much," said Alvina, holding out her hand. "Good-bye.

I'm so sorry you're going."

"Well--well! We are not going so very far. Not so very far. Perhaps we shall see each other another day. It may be. Good-bye!"

Madame took Alvina's hand, and smiled at her winsomely all at once, kindly, from her inscrutable black eyes. A sudden unusual kindness.

Alvina flushed with surprise and a desire to cry.

"Yes. I am sorry you are not with Natcha-Kee-Tawara. But we shall see. Good-bye. I shall do my packing."

Alvina carried down the things she had to remove. Then she went to say good-bye to the young men, who were in various stages of their toilet. Max alone was quite presentable.

Ciccio was just putting on the outer cover of his front tire. She watched his brown thumbs press it into place. He was quick and sure, much more capable, and even masterful, than you would have supposed, seeing his tawny Mediterranean hands. He spun the wheel round, patting it lightly.

"Is it finished?"

"Yes, I think." He reached his pump and blew up the tire. She watched his softly-applied force. What physical, muscular force there was in him. Then he swung round the bicycle, and stood it again on its wheels. After which he quickly folded his tools.

"Will you come now?" she said.

He turned, rubbing his hands together, and drying them on an old cloth. He went into the house, pulled on his coat and his cap, and picked up the things from the table.

"Where are you going?" Max asked.

Ciccio jerked his head towards Alvina.