The things we do!

"It
will all come right this time," I tell myself, and am full of hope. Alas,
I have fled from the city like this before, and afterwards returned. And
fled away again.
But this time I am resolved. Peace I will have, at any cost. And for the
present I have taken a room in a cottage here, with Old Gunhild to look
after me.
Here and there among the pines are rowans, with ripe coral berries; now
the berries are falling, heavy clusters striking the earth. So they reap
themselves and sow themselves again, an inconceivable abundance to be
squandered every single year. Over three hundred clusters I can count on a
single tree. And here and there about are flowers still in bloom,
obstinate things that will not die, though their time is really past.
But Old Gunhild's time is past as well--and think you she will die? She
goes about as if death were a thing did not concern her. When the
fishermen are down on the beach, painting their boats or darning nets,
comes Gunhild with her vacant eyes, but with a mind as keen as any to a
bargain.


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