She had blushed during that scene
in the kitchen; yes, indeed, but that was a sudden and natural indignation
at her husband's ill-chosen words, nothing more.
But she had no objections to her husband's imagining she was jealous of
the girl. This was just what she wanted. Her meaning was clear enough. I'm
jealous again, yes; you can see it's all the same as before with me: here
I am! Fru Falkenberg was better than I had thought. For many years now the
pair had slipped farther and farther from each other through indifference,
partly perhaps towards the last, in defiance; now she would take the first
step and show that she cared for him still. That was it, yes. But, in face
of the one she feared most of all, she would not show her jealousy for
worlds--and that was Elisabet, this dangerous friend of hers who was so
many years younger than herself.
Yes, that was the way of it.
And the Captain? Was he moved at all to see his wife flush at his words to
her maid? Maybe a shadow of memory from the old days, a tingle of wonder,
a gladness.
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