Longren spent the night at sea. He did not sleep nor did he fish. Instead he sailed aimlessly, listening to the splashing of the water, gazing into the darkness, letting himself be caressed by the wind and immersed in thought. In the worst hours of life there was nothing that could restore his peace of mind as could these lonely wanderings. Stillness, just stillness, and no people nearby, was what he needed in order to hear and understand the distant, confused voices of his inner world. This night he thought about the future, about poverty, about Asole. It was extremely difficult to leave her even for a short time. He also feared to reawaken that pain within himself that had been stilled. Perhaps when he embarked on a ship again, he would imagine that back there in Capema his wife had never died and was waiting for him. But returning, he would approach his home knowing that Mary would never again run from the threshold to meet him. Yet Asole must have food, and he decided to act as his concern for her directed.

When Longren returned home, Asole was still not back. Her early walks did not as a rule make her father anxious. This time, however, there was a touch of nervousness in his waiting. Pacing from comer to comer, on one of his turns he suddenly saw her. She had entered impetuously and stood without speaking in front of him, nearly frightening him with the bright light of her gaze. It seemed as if she had revealed her second face-that true face of a human being that usually exists only in the eyes. She said nothing and stared at Longren with such an incomprehensible look that he quickly asked, "Are you ill?"
She did not reply at once. When the question finally got through to her, Asole trembled like a branch which had just been pushed back and let go. "No, I am well. . . . Why are you looking at me that way? I am just happy. I'm not happy because this is such a good day. But what have you got on your mind? I can see by your face that you have some plan or other."
"No matter what I might think up," said Longren, seating the girl next to him, "I know you will understand. We have nothing to live on. I don't want to ship out as a seaman on long cruises, so instead I'm going to enter service on the postal steamer which travels between Lisse and Cassette."
"Yes," she said from far away, but making an effort to enter into his concern and his plan, knowing she was powerless to suppress her own gladness, "that's very unpleasant. I'll be lonely. Come back as soon as you can." After saying this, she broke into an irrepressible smile. "Yes, please come back quickly. I'll wait for you."
"Asole," said Longren, taking her cheeks in his hands and turning her toward him. "You must tell me what happened."
She felt that she must allay his alarm and compelled herself to be serious; It was only in her eyes that her new life did not cease to shine.
"You are strange," she said. "There was absolutely nothing. I was out gathering walnuts."
Longren wouldn't quite have believed this had he not been so taken up with his own thoughts. Their conversation became practical. He told her to pack his bag and enumerated all the things he needed to take.
"I'll be back in ten days' time," he said. "You are to pledge my gun at the pawn shop and stay here at home. If anyone tries to bother you, tell them Longren will be back soon. Don't worry about me. Nothing bad will happen to me."
After this he ate, gave his daughter a tender kiss, and tossing his bag over his shoulder, set out on the road to town. Asole watched him disappear until he was lost from view behind the turn and then went back to the house. She had much housework to do, but she had forgotten all about it. She looked around with an air of slight surprise, as if she no longer belonged to the house that had been etched in her consciousness since childhood. Now it looked to her as dear places look when one returns to them from a completely different way of life after a number of long years. There seemed to her to be something unworthy in this rebuff to her own home, something not quite right. She sat down at the table at which Longren carved his toys and tried to glue a wheel to the stem. Looking at these objects, she involuntarily saw them lifesize and real. Everything that had happened to her that mom-ing, the golden ring, the mirrored sun that had fallen from across the sea at her feet, once again made her quiver with excitement.

She didn't sit still for long but left the house and went off on foot to Lisse. There was absolutely nothing that she needed to do there. She didn't even know why she went. She felt a compulsion to which she had to give in. On the way she met a pedestrian who asked for some directions. She explained to him clearly what he wanted to know and at once forgot all about him.
She noticed nothing along the way, as when she carried a hen which required all her attention. In Lisse she was entertained somewhat by the noises coming at her from all directions. The town no longer had the same effect on her as it once had, when frightening and overwhelming her, it had t urned her into a speechless little coward. She walked slowly around the ring-shaped boulevard which cut through the dark blue shadows of trees. She gazed confidently and easily at the faces of passersby, moving at an even, self-assured pace. Observant persons noticed more than once that day the unknown girl, a bit odd in looks, who moved through the bright crowd with an air of deep meditation. In the square she put her hand in a fountain, deflecting the spray, and sat down to rest before returning to the forest road. She made her way home with a fresh heart, in a mood as clear and peaceful as an evening stream which has finally exchanged the many-hued reflections of the day for the even tone of twilight. Nearing the village, she met that same coalman who had once thought his basket was bursting into bloom. He stood near his cart with two strange, gloomy men who were covered with soot and mud. Asole was pleased to see him.
"Hello, Philip," she said. "What are you doing here?"
"Nothing, my little fly. My wheel came off. I fixed it. And now I'm chattering away with our boys. Where are you coming from?"
Asole didn't reply. Instead she blurted out, "You know, Philip, I like you very much and so I'm going to tell you something, just you. I am going away soon. Probably I'll be leaving here for good. Don't you tell anyone."
"You want to go away? Where are you planning on going? The astonished coalman opened his mouth questioningly, making his beard seem longer.
"I don't know," she said, studying the small clearing beneath the elm where the cart stood and the green grass in the rosy light of the evening and the black and silent coalman. Then, thoughtfully, she added, "I know neither the day nor the hour, and I don't even know where. I am not going to tell anyone else. Therefore, just in case, goodbye. You've given me many a lift."
She took his enormous black hand and shook it. The coalman's face cracked into a smile. The girl waved, turned, and went on. She disappeared so swiftly that Philip and his friends didn't even have a chance to turn their heads.
"Wonders!" said the coalman. "Just try to understand her. Something's going on with her today..."
"True," the second supported him. "She's talking strangely, saying queer things. Not our business."
"Not our business," repeated the third. Then all three of them climbed into the cart, which went creaking off down the stony road and disappeared in the dust.