Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Part two - III
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“About what?”
“About Helge, of course. Tell me what he looks like to
the girl who loves him. You are no ordinary girl either —
you are an artist — and I believe you are intelligent and good.
Will you not tell me how you came to like him — what it was
that made you choose him?”
“Well,” she said laughingly — “it is not so easy to say —
we just got fond of each other.”
He laughed too. “Well, it was a stupid question, I admit.
One would say I had quite forgotten what it was to be young
and in love, don’t you think?”
“Don’t you think! — Helge says that so often, too. It was
one of the things that made me like him. He was so young.
I saw that he was very reserved, but gradually thawed a good
deal.”
“I can understand he would — to you. Tell me more!
Oh, but don’t look so frightened. I don’t mean that you should
tell me the whole story. Only tell me something about yourself
and about Helge, about your work — and about Rome. I am
an old man. I want to feel again what it is like to be an artist
— and free. To work at the only thing you care for — to be
young — and in love — and happy.”
He stayed for two hours. When he was ready to go and
stood with his hat in his hand, he said in a low voice: “It is
no use trying to hide from you the state of things at home.
When we meet there, it would be better if we pretended not to
have met before. I don’t wish Helge’s mother to know that I
have made your acquaintance in this way — for your sake, so
as not to expose you to any disagreeable, malicious words from
her. It is enough for her to know that I like somebody —
especially if it is a woman — to turn her against them. You
think it strange, I am sure, but you understand, don’t you?”
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