Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Part one - VII
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daresay. A month ago I might have.... She was so sweet
to me once, so kind and confidential, and I was not used to that
kind of thing. I took it as — well, as l’invitation à la valse,
you see, but now ... I still think she is sweet, but I don’t
mind in the least if she dances with somebody else.”
He was lying looking at her: “I believe it is you, Jenny,
I am in love with,” he said suddenly.
She turned half-way towards him, with a faint smile, and
shook her head.
“Yes,” said Helge firmly; “I think so. I don’t know for
certain, for I have never been in love before — I know that now
— although I have been engaged once.” He smiled to himself.
”It was one of my blunders in the old foolish days.
“This, I am sure, is love. It was you, Jenny, I saw that
evening — not her. I noticed you already in the afternoon
when you crossed the Corso. I stood there thinking that life
was new, full of adventure, and just then you passed me, fair
and slender, and stranger. Later, when I had wandered about
in this foreign town, I met you again. I also noticed Cesca,
of course, and no wonder I was a little flustered for a moment,
but it was you I saw first. And now we are sitting here
together — we two.”
Her hand was close to him as she sat leaning on it; suddenly
he stroked it — and she drew it away.
“You are not cross with me, are you? It is really nothing
to be cross about. Why should I not tell you that I believe I
am in love with you? I could not resist touching your hand —
I wanted to feel that it was real, for it seems to me so
wonderful that you are sitting here. I do not really know you,
though we have talked about many things. I know that you
are clever, level-headed, and energetic — and good and truthful,
but I knew that the moment I saw you and heard your voice.
I don’t know any more about you now, but there is of course a
great deal more to learn — and perhaps I shall never learn it.
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