Love in a Bottle Read Online Free PDF Page A

heavenwards in rapture. The moon stroked his face with its soft hands,and made him as handsome as the prince of some far-off Western land.
    She stood up. She knew. This man was her bridegroom.
    It was the scholar.
    She went up to him, and without knowing what she was doing—she was still in a dream—took his hand. With unhurried deliberation, like someone taking a vow, she declared: “You are my betrothed.”
    He gave a start, then stared at her as if she were a miraculous being risen from the well. “Is that what you want, Ajándok?”
    â€œIt’s not I who want it. I don’t want anything. It was the magic that brought me to you, by night, on flowery St John’s Night. You are the man I was told I would see. My husband-to-be.”
    â€œAs you say, Ajándok. It is true. It was no chance wind that brought me to this place. But all the same—do you know who I am?”
    â€œYou are a wanderer, and a weary one, seeking rest. I know that you are my bridegroom.”
    â€œBut think about this carefully, Ajándok, and may God bless you. You see this book under my arm? In it you may read terrible things. And I am the one who frightened you earlier, in the attic—it was my way into the house.”
    â€œGod bless that moment!”
    â€œBut I am not an ordinary person. No girl has ever loved me. I am a vagrant. I don’t know how to live in one place!”
    â€œYou are my husband: I shall follow you everywhere.”
    â€œAjándok, wonderful things do happen in this world. The wind racing by will sometimes turn and send a bunch of flowers spinning to the ground; hurricanes will crouch down and play among the corn stalks, like children. And,” he shouted, “I do believe that you are my betrothed, that you will stay with me for ever, and I shall never wander again.” He fell to his knees and kissed the hem of her dress.
    â€œAll my wanderings have been for your sake, Ajándok, my betrothed. Because of you I have carried the dust of the road of every land on my shoes. You are the clearing, the open glade in which I can rest at last. You are the long-lost palace to which I am now returning, the bed in which I shall finally sleep; the scarf that will seel my ever-watchful eyes; the little nest that will calm my beating wings; the golden chain that will fetter my flying feet. I have finally found what I have always been looking for, and now the mill will always be there for me, the mill and its sails!”
    Ajándok could only listen in silence and let the kisses fall on her happy hand. She was in another world, where one drank the fragrant milk of moon-white cows.
    Then the scholar drew himself up and said, almost fearfully : “I have one last journey to make, Ajándok, through the village. Thus it is written in my book. And then… I shall throw away the book and never travel again. Will you come with me on that one last journey, my betrothed?”
    â€œOf course I shall.”
    Hand in hand they raced down the little hill on which the mill stood, and into the village. From house to house, courtyard to courtyard, they ran in silence, nor did the dogs barkat them. Then the scholar began to exercise his miraculous craft. The moment he reached a farmyard he would lift up his book and begin to read (he could see the words even in the dark). In it was written the name of the owner, and what sort of man he was—according to which the scholar proceeded to reward or punish him. There was one who was envious and quarrelsome: the scholar blew behind the left ear of his cow, and from then on its calf would drink blood along with its milk, and in no time at all his entire young stock was destroyed. At the next place the owner was a good man, and there the scholar blew behind the cow’s right ear, and thereafter the milk would be rich, the calf it suckled would grow well, and the faces of his children would be ruddy with health. He also wrought