I took off my cap and brushed back my hair mechanically as I stood
looking at her. “Doesn't matter...?”
Herr Mack was saying something, a good way off; we could not hear his
words from where we were. But I was glad to think that Herr Mack had
seen nothing, that he knew nothing of this. It was well indeed that he
had been away from the party just then. I felt relieved at that, and I
stepped over to the others and said with a laugh, and seeming quite
indifferent:
“I would ask you all to forgive my unseemly behavior a moment ago; I am
myself extremely sorry about it. Edwarda kindly offered to change
flowers with me, and I forgot myself. I beg her pardon and yours. Put
yourself in my place; I live all alone, and am not accustomed to the
society of ladies; besides which, I have been drinking wine, and am not
used to that either. You must make allowances for that.”
And I laughed, and showed great indifference to such a trifle, that it
might be forgotten; but, inwardly, I was serious. Moreover, what I had
said made no impression on Edwarda. She did not try to hide anything, to
smooth over the effect of her hasty action: on the contrary, she sat
down close to me and kept looking at me fixedly. Now and again she spoke
to me. And afterwards, when we were playing “_Enke_,” she said:
“I shall have Lieutenant Glahn. I don't care to run after anyone else.”
“_Saa for Satan_, [Footnote: Expletive, equivalent to “The Devil!” or
“Damnation!”] girl, be quiet!” I whispered, stamping my foot.
She gave me a look of surprise, made a wry face as if it hurt, and then
smiled bashfully. I was deeply moved at that; the helpless look in her
eyes and her little thin figure were more than I could resist; I was
drawn to her in that moment, and I took her long, slight hand in mine.
“Afterwards,” I said, “No more now. We can meet again to-morrow.”
XI
In the night I heard Æsop get up from his corner and growl; I heard it
through my sleep, but I was dreaming just then of shooting, the growl of
the dog fitted into the dream, and it did not wake me, quite. When I
stepped out of the hut next morning there were tracks in the grass of a
pair of human feet; someone had been there--had gone first to one of my
windows, then to the other. The tracks were lost again down on the road.
She came towards me with hot cheeks, with a face all beaming.
“Have you been waiting?” she said. “I was afraid you would have to
wait.”
I had not been waiting; she was on the way before me.
“Have you slept well?” I asked. I hardly knew what to say.
“No, I haven't. I have been awake,” she answered. And she told me she
had not slept that night, but had sat in a chair with her eyes closed.
And she had been out of the house for a little walk.
“Someone was outside my hut last night,” I said. “I saw tracks in the
grass this morning.”
And her face colored; she took my hand there, on the road, and made no
answer. I looked at her, and said:
“Was it you, I wonder?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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