She sat on the very edge of
the chair in her excitement. He injected a word now and then, nodded,
shook his head when she appeared too disconsolate, and in his confusion he
called her "Aagot, dearest Aagot." She must not apply everything he had
said to herself, not at all. Of course, he had thought of her, too, that
was true; but then he had been mistaken--thank God for that! He had simply
wanted to warn her. She was so young; he, who was older, knew better from
where danger threatened. But now she must forget it and be cheerful.
They continued to speak. Irgens grew impatient and rose. He stretched
himself and yawned as if to indicate that he was going. Suddenly he
remembered something he had forgotten. He walked quickly over to the bar
and got some roasted coffee which he put in his vest pocket.
Milde settled the checks. He flung money around with the greatest
unconcern; then he said good-bye and left. A moment afterward they saw him
bow to a lady outside. He spoke a few words and they walked away through a
side-street. The lady wore a long boa which billowed behind her in the
breeze.
And still Aagot and Coldevin sat there.
Pages:
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295