Well? But
no, she shook her head. Would she not dance, I asked her? 'Can you
imagine it?' she said. 'My father was a handsome man, and my mother a
perfect beauty, and my father won her by storm. But I was born lame.'"
Edwarda looked at me.
"Let us sit down," she said.
And we sat down in the heather.
"Do you know what my friend says about you?" she began. "Your eyes are
like an animal's, she says, and when you look at her, it makes her mad.
It is just as if you touched her, she says."
A strange joy thrilled me when I heard that, not for my own sake, but
for Edwarda's, and I thought to myself: There is only one whom I care
for: what does that one say of the look in my eyes? And I asked her:
"Who was that, your friend?"
"I will not tell you," she said. "But it was one of those that were out
on the island that day."
"Very well, then."
And then we spoke of other things.
"My father is going to Russia in a few days," she said. "And I am going
to have a party. Have you been out to Korholmerne? We must have two
hampers of wine; the ladies from the vicarage are coming again, and
father has already given me the wine. And you won't look at her again,
will you? My friend, I mean. Please, you won't, _will_ you? Or I
shall not ask her at all.
Pages:
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65