What is
to be done about it?
It was late in the evening when I reached home. I went round by the quay
and asked a fisherman if the post-packet would not be in by to-morrow
evening. Alas, no, the post-packet would not be in till some time next
week. I hurried up to the hut and began looking over my best suit. I
cleaned it up and made it look decent; there were holes in it here and
there, and I wept and darned them.
When I had finished, I lay down on the bed. This rest lasted only a
moment. Then a thought struck me, and I sprang up and stood in the
middle of the floor, dazed. The whole thing was just another trick! I
should not have been invited if I had not happened to be there when the
others were asked. And, moreover, she had given me the plainest possible
hint to stay away--to send a note at the last moment, making some
excuse...
I did not sleep all that night, and when morning came I went to the
woods cold, sleepless, and feverish. Ho, having a party at Sirilund!
What then? I would neither go nor send any excuse. Herr Mack was a very
thoughtful man; he was giving this party for the Baron; but I was not
going--let them understand that! ...
The mist lay thick over valley and hills; a clammy rime gathered on my
clothes and made them heavy, my face was cold and wet.
Pages:
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135