He looked at her and across the meadow where a hawk was hunting and the big afternoon clouds were coming now over the mountains.
"And it is not thus for thee with others?" Maria asked him, they now walking hand in hand.
"No.
Truly."
"Thou hast loved many others."
"Some.
But not as thee."
"And it was not thus?
Truly?"
"It was a pleasure but it was not thus."
"And then the earth moved.
The earth never moved before?"
"Nay.
Truly never."
"Ay," she said.
"And this we have for one day."
He said nothing.
"But we have had it now at least," Maria said.
"And do you like me too?
Do I please thee?
I will look better later."
"Thou art very beautiful now."
"Nay," she said.
"But stroke thy hand across my head."
He did that feeling her cropped hair soft and flattening and then rising between his fingers and he put both hands on her head and turned her face up to his and kissed her.
"I like to kiss very much," she said.
"But I do not do it well."
"Thou hast no need to kiss."
"Yes, I have.
If I am to be thy woman I should please thee in all ways."
"You please me enough.
I would not be more pleased.
There is no thing I could do if I were more pleased."
"But you will see," she said very happily.
"My hair amuses thee now because it is odd.
But every day it is growing.
It will be long and then I will not look ugly and perhaps you will love me very much."
"Thou hast a lovely body," he said.
"The loveliest in the world."
"It is only young and thin."
"No.
In a fine body there is magic.
I do not know what makes it in one and not in another.
But thou hast it."
"For thee," she said.
"Nay."
"Yes.
For thee and for thee always and only for thee.
But it is littie to bring thee.
I would learn to take good care of thee.