Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Part one - III
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(history)
Denna sida har korrekturlästs minst en gång.
(skillnad)
(historik)
scenery in a theatre, were in reality dirty and shabby, with bits
of paper, dented, empty tins and rubbish lying about; and the
vegetation of the south was represented by greyish black
evergreen, naked, prickly shrubs, and yellow, faded rushes.
On this sunny morning he understood suddenly that even
such a sight holds beauty for those who can see.
Jenny Winge took the road between garden walls at the back
of the church. The walls were covered with ivy, and pines
rose behind them. She stopped to light a cigarette.
“I am a pronounced smoker, you see,” she said, “but I have
to refrain when I am with Cesca, for her heart does not stand
it; out here I smoke like a steam-engine. Here we are.”
A small, yellow house stood inside a fence; in the garden
were tables and forms under big, bare elms, and a
summer-house made of rush stalks. Jenny greeted the old woman who
came out on the doorstep.
“Well, Mr. Gram, what do you say to breakfast?”
“Not a bad idea. A cup of strong coffee and a roll and
butter.”
“Coffee! and butter! Listen to him! No, eggs and bread
and wine, lettuce and perhaps some cheese. Yes, she says she
has cheese. How many eggs do you want?”
While the woman laid the table Miss Winge carried her
easel and painting accessories into the garden, and changed her
long, blue evening wrap for a short coat, which was soiled with
paint.
“May I have a look at your picture?” asked Helge.
“Yes — I am going to tone down that green — it is rather
hard. There is really no light in it yet, but the background is
good, I think.”
Helge looked at the painting; the trees looked like big grease
splashes. He could see nothing in it.
“Here’s breakfast coming. We’ll throw the eggs at her if
they are hard. Hurrah, they aren’t!”
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