But do you
think that brings you a hairbreadth nearer? Hardly. Look at her, use
your eyes as much as you please--but as soon as she marks what you are
doing, she will say to herself--'Ho, here's this man looking at me with
his eyes, and thinks to win me that way.' And with a single glance, or a
word, she'll have you ten leagues away. Do you think I don't know her?
How old do you reckon her to be?" "She was born in '38, she said."
"A lie. I looked it up, out of curiosity. She's twenty, though she might
well pass for fifteen. She is not happy; there's a deal of conflict in
that little head of hers. When she stands looking out at the hills and
the sea, and her mouth gives that little twitch, that little spasm of
pain, then she is suffering; but she is too proud, too obstinate for
tears. She is more than a bit romantic; a powerful imagination; she is
waiting for a prince. What was that about a certain five-_daler_ note
you were supposed to have given someone?"
"A jest. It was nothing..."
"It was something all the same. She did something of the same sort with
me once. It's a year ago now. We were on board the mail-packet while it
was lying here in the harbour. It was raining, and very cold. A woman
with a child in her arms was sitting on deck, shivering.
Pages:
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93