This Question is From 'The Eyes Have It'.
The Paragraph I have problem is :
You are a very gallant young man/ she said. 'But why are you so serious?'
I thought, then, that I would try to laugh for her, but the thought of laughter only made me feel troubled and lonely.
WHY DOES THE NARRATOR FEE SO
Answers
Answer:
had the compartment to myself up to Rohana, and then a girl got in . the couple who saw her off were probably her parents; they seemed very anxious about her comfort, and the women gave the girl detailed instructions as to where to keep her things, when not to lean out of the windows, and how to avoid speaking to strangers. They said their good-byes; the train pulled out of the station.
As I was totally blind at the time, my eyes sensitive only to light and darkness, I was unable to tell what the girl looked like; but I knew she wore slippers from the way they slapped against her heels. It would take me some time to discover something about her looks and perhaps I never would. But I liked the sound of her voice, and even the sound of her slippers.
‘ ‘Are you going all the way to Dehra?’ I asked. I must have been sitting in a dark corner because my voice started her. She gave a little exclamation and said,’ I didn’t know anyone else was here.’
Well, it often happens that people with good eyesight fail to see what is right in front of them. They have too much to take in, I suppose. Whereas people who cannot see (or see very little) have to take in only the essentials, whatever registers most tellingly on their remaining senses
‘I didn’t if I would be able to prevent her from discovering that I was blind, I thought. ‘Provided I keep to my seat, It shouldn’t be too difficult.’
The girl said, ‘I’m getting down at Saharanpur. My aunt is meeting me threre.’
Then I Had better no be too familiar,’ I said. ‘Aunts are usually formidable creatures.’
‘When are you going?’ she asked.
‘To dehra, and then to Mussoorie.’
‘Oh, how lucky you are, I wish I were going to Mussoorie. I love the hills. Especially in October.’
‘Yes this is the best time, ‘I said calling on my memories. The hills are covered with wild dahlias, the sun is delicious, and at night you can sit in front of a log-fire and drink a little brandy. Most of the tourists have gone, and the roads are quite and almost deserted. Yes October is the best time.’
She was silent, and I wondered if my words had touched her, or whether she thought me a romantic fool. Then I made a mistake.
‘What is it like?’ I asked.
She seemed to find nothing strange in the question. Had she noticed already that I could not see? But her next question removed my doubts.
‘Why don’t you look out the window?’ she asked.
I moved easily along the berth and felt for the window-ledge. The window was open, and I faced it, making pretence, of studying the landscape. I heard the panting of the engine, the rumble of the wheels, and in my mind’s eye, I could see the telegraph-posts flashing by.
‘Have you noticed,’ I ventured, that the trees seem to be moving while we seem to be standing still?
‘That always happens,’ she said. ‘Do you see any animals?
Hardly any animals left in the forests near Dehra.’
I turned from the window and faced the girl, and for a while we sat in silence.
‘you have an interesting face,’ I remarked. I was becoming quit daring, but it was a safe remark. Few girls can resist flattery.
She laughed pleasantly, a clear ringing laugh.
‘It’s nice to be told I have an Interesting face. I am tired of people telling me I have a