elder bushes did not grow back in the shady
ravines between the bluffs, but in the hot,
sandy bottoms along the stream, where their
roots were always in moisture and their tops
in the sun. The blossoms were unusually lux-
uriant and beautiful that summer.

I followed a cattle path through the thick
underbrush until I came to a slope that fell
away abruptly to the water's edge. A great
chunk of the shore had been bitten out by
some spring freshet, and the scar was masked
by elder bushes, growing down to the water in
flowery terraces. I did not touch them. I was
overcome by content and drowsiness and by the
warm silence about me. There was no sound
but the high, sing-song buzz of wild bees and
the sunny gurgle of the water underneath. I
peeped over the edge of the bank to see the lit-
tle stream that made the noise; it flowed along
perfectly clear over the sand and gravel, cut
off from the muddy main current by a long
sandbar. Down there, on the lower shelf of the
bank, I saw Antonia, seated alone under the
pagoda-like elders. She looked up when she
heard me, and smiled, but I saw that she had
been crying. I slid down into the soft sand be-
side her and asked her what was the matter.

[[268]]

p267 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p268w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p269

v?