"
And she turned and left me.
Neither sentimental nor calculating, as far as I could see. But she might
well have been both. And what had I gained by my attempt at a confidential
tone? I should have known better than to try, whether she stayed here or
went elsewhere. What business was it of mine? 'Twas her affair.
You're playing and pretending, I said to myself. All very well to say
she's literature and no more, but that withered soul of yours showed good
signs of life when she was kind to you and began looking at you with those
two eyes of hers. I'm disappointed; I'm ashamed of you, and to-morrow you
go!
But I did not go.
And true it is that I went about spying and listening everywhere for
anything I could learn of Fru Falkenberg; and then at times, ay, many a
night, I would call myself to account for that same thing, and torture
myself with self-contempt. From early morning I thought of her: is she
awake yet? Has she slept well? Will she be going back home to-day? And at
the same time all sorts of ideas came into my head.
Pages:
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356