And the two slipped into a conversation about the journey here, the weather, the place, without having been introduced to each other--a conversation without any other object than to have an excuse for looking at one another. The conversation was in short, disjointed sentences, without colour or calculation, except in so far that the last remark never remained the last. He stood below and studied her with growing pleasure; the shape of her head, her features, her manners and expression. The eyes really shone under the long thick lashes--what colour were they? They looked black, but---- And her figure! her neck, arms, complexion, her dark hair, her dress; he put himself quite on one side, he was entirely occupied with her. How long this continued, they neither of them knew--it was a considerable time; he did not wish to disturb himself, she did not wish to disturb him. She saw herself in a living mirror, but the pleasure was not an innocent one, for by degrees it made her feel giddy. She collected herself and broke off the conversation; walked across the terrace to some flowers, and occupied herself with their petals, among which she made havoc. He came slowly up, with his umbrella over his shoulder, drawing his left hand along the balustrade. "Of course you are going to my sister's this afternoon?" "Fru Gröndal will get an invitation for me," she said. "Of course; we shall have some dancing--will you give me the first waltz?" She did not look up. "Will you not dance the first waltz with me?" She felt through her whole being that she ought not to answer him. "I beg your pardon, I forgot that we had not been introduced; but as you know who my sister is, you must have some idea who I am." He smiled and came nearer, always with the big umbrella, and with his left hand gliding along the balustrade. She raised herself, but did not answer. "So there is some agreement about the first waltz?" He said it a little carelessly, in rather a patronising way, almost as though he were offended. He put down the umbrella and turned towards the entrance. "Of course Fru Gröndal is at home." He went in. Tora was about to add, "But she is not up." But that would look rather like asking him to stay here. Besides, Fru Gröndal must be so nearly dressed that she could warn him off herself, when she heard him in the sitting-room. He went in there, but did not come out again. Had Fru Gröndal gone there? No, there was no talking. She went towards the steps and looked into the mirror; the bedroom door was wide open. Down the steps she flew, and through the garden, away into the wood, out of it again, for it was too wet; and out on to the mountain towards the sea, under the lee of the wood; there she sat down on a large stone. She was trembling: her breast heaved as though it would burst.