The thought of all the hidden beauty which I
surmised lay sheltered under the cloak and veil bewildered me, making me
idiotically happy without any reasonable grounds. I could not endure it
any longer; I touched her with my hand, passed my fingers over her
shoulder, and smiled imbecilely.
"How queer you are," said I.
"Am I, really; in what way?"
Well, in the first place, simply, she had a habit of standing outside a
stable door, evening after evening, without any object whatever, just for
a whim's sake....
Oh, well, she might have her reason for doing so; besides, she liked
staying up late at night; it was a thing she had always had a great fancy
for. Did I care about going to bed before twelve?
I? If there was anything in the world I hated it was to go to bed before
twelve o'clock at night.
Ah, there, you see! She, too, was just the same; she took this little tour
in the evenings when she had nothing to lose by doing so. She lived up in
St. Olav's Place.
"Ylajali," I cried.
"I beg pardon?"
"I only said 'Ylajali' ... it's all right. Continue...."
She lived up in St. Olav's Place, lonely enough, together with her mother,
to whom one couldn't talk because she was so deaf. Was there anything odd
in her liking to get out for a little?
"No, not at all," I replied.
"No? well, what then?"
I could hear by her voice that she was smiling.
Hadn't she a sister?
Yes; an older sister.
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