Thin, far-away voices came from the picture, aiding the illusion.
“What for did you that?” said he, in a voice devoid of beauty and expression.
“To find out,” she replied, in the same manner.
“But we die—we die—if we eat fruit of blood colour!” he cried, with superstitious horror in his voice.
“We no die, we live and grow fat. I eat, I live; but I miss something.”
“I know not. Eat, and tell me.” Her look was cunning.
“It is the best of all kinds—but for one thing.”
“Eat, and tell me. You be my faithful love.”
Gingerly he took it in his hand, applied it reluctantly to his lips, sucking the juice alone.
His low forehead wrinkled. He could not formulate his thoughts.
And then all round a million voices echoed:
“Salt!” he shouted, drowning the harmonic voices in his new discovery.
Hereupon the woman fell upon her knees, and almost worshipped him, kissing his hands and feet, weeping tears of pleasure on them.
“Scrape me some up,” he uttered, taking advantage of her low position.
“Here’s a seed—that’s all you’re worth,” he answered. “Now I go to find more,” said he, jumping up valiantly. “You bake bread and get me butter for when I return.”
“I come too!” she cried. “You eat the whole while I worky work.”
“Fool—toad—weasel—monkey! bake me the bread, or I your neck am breaking!”
And with that they disappeared from the page. Only the picture in its first stage remained visible.
“That’s not pretty at all,” said Rosalie.
“Few things are in real life,” he answered.
“Not in the way you think. It was caricature, I grant, but with a difference.”
“Yes. I don’t think the eating of salt with tomato could make a man really superior, do you?”
“No; but it was the fact that he discovered salt.”
“But he didn’t. He was as ignorant as she till the voices whispered it.”
“Nevertheless, he caught the first sound.”
“Yes, of course,” said Rosalie thoughtfully.
“You do not appreciate its true absurdity,” he said; “but that, maybe, is scarcely necessary. Now, that picture, or series of pictures, was painted by a woman, and sent to the man who had sent her the first.”
“Oh! she was no ordinary woman, by any means.”
“No. They were amusing each other in wet weather.”
“They paint most beautiful scenery, but I don’t like their men and women.”