Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Part one - V
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teaching, teaching! She has had a hard time, poor Jenny.
You would not believe it when you see her now. She is so
strong, she never gives in. When I first met her at the art
school I thought she was very reserved, almost hard —
armour-plated, Gunnar called it. She was very retiring; I did not
know her really till we came out here. Her mother is a widow
for the second time — she is a Mrs. Berner — and there are
three more children. They had only three small rooms, imagine,
and Jenny had to live in a tiny servant’s room, work and
study to complete her education, besides helping her mother in
the house and with money as well. They could not afford a
servant. She knew nobody and had no friends. She shuts
herself up, as it were, when things go badly, and does not want
to complain, but when she is in luck she opens her arms to
every one that needs comfort and support.”
Francesca’s cheeks were burning. She looked at him with
her big eyes.
“All the bad luck I have had has been my own doing. I am
a bit hysterical, and give way to all sorts of moods. Jenny
gives me a talking-to; she says that if anything irreparable
happens to you it is always your own fault, and if you cannot
train your will to master your moods and impulses and so on,
and have not complete control of yourself, you might as well
commit suicide at once.”
Helge smiled at her. “Jenny says,” and “Gunnar says,”
and “I had a friend who used to say.” How young and
trusting she seemed!
“Don’t you think it possible that Miss Winge’s principles
might not apply to you? You are so different, you two. No
two people have the same views on life itself even.”
“No,” she said quietly. “But I am so fond of Jenny. I
need her so.”
They came to the bridge. Francesca bent over the railing.
Farther up the river there was a factory; its tall chimney stood
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