"No--of course not--how should I see any one? I scarcely go
beyond the Hollow, and--I'm busy all day."
"A Eve--a Eve!" said a voice in my ear. "Eve tricked Adam,
didn't she?--a Eve!"
After this I sat for a long time without, moving, my mind harassed
with doubts and a hideous, morbid dread. Why had she avoided my
eye? Her own were pure and truthful, and could not lie! Why, why
had they avoided mine? If only she had looked at me!
Presently I rose and began to pace up and down the room.
"You are very restless, Peter!"
"Yes," said I; "yes, I fear I am--you must pardon me--"
"Why not read?"
"Indeed I had not thought of my books."
"Then read me something aloud, Peter."
"I will read you the sorrow of Achilles for the loss of Briseis,"
said I, and, going into the corner, I raised my hand to my shelf
of books--and stood there with hand upraised yet touching no book,
for a sudden spasm seemed to have me in its clutches, and once
again the trembling seized me, and the hammer had recommenced
its beat, beating upon my brain.
And, in a while, I turned from my books, and, crossing to the
door, leaned there with my back to her lest she should see my
face just then.
"I--I don't think I--will read--to-night!" said I at last.
"Very well, Peter, let us talk."
"Or talk," said I; "I--I think I'll go to bed. Pray," I went on
hurriedly, for I was conscious that she had raised her head and
was looking at me in some surprise, "pray excuse me--I'm very
tired." So, while she yet stared at me, I turned away, and,
mumbling a good night, went into my chamber, and closing the
door, leaned against it, for my mind was sick with dread, and
sorrow, and a great anguish; for now I knew that Charmian had
lied to me--my Virgil book had been moved from its usual place.