Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Part one - III
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crisp and clear. Carts and people from the side streets were
hurrying past.
“You know, Miss Winge, I don’t think I will go home. I
am as wide awake as I can be, and I should like to go for a
walk. Would you think me intruding if I asked to be allowed
to accompany you a little bit of the way?”
“Dear me, no. But will you be able to find the way to your
hotel?”
“Oh, I think I can manage it in broad daylight.”
“You will find cabs now everywhere.”
They came out into the Corso, and she told him the names of
the palaces. She was always a step or two ahead of him, for
she moved with ease between the many people who had already
come out on the pavements.
“Do you like vermouth?” she asked. “I am going in here
to have one.”
She drank it all in one gulp, standing at the marble counter
of the bar. He did not like the bitter-sweet drink, which was
new to him, but he thought it fun to look in at a bar on their
way.
Jenny turned into narrow streets where the air was raw and
damp, the sun reaching only the top part of the houses.
Helge noticed everything with great interest: the blue carts
behind mules with brass-studded harness and red tassels, the
bareheaded women and dark-hued children, the small, cheap
shops and the display of vegetables in the porches. In one
place a man was making doughnuts on a stove. Jenny bought
some and offered him, but he refused politely. What a queer
girl, he thought. She ate and seemed to enjoy them, while he
felt sick at the mere thought of those greasy balls between his
teeth on top of the various drinks in the night, and the taste
of vermouth still in his mouth. Besides, the old man was very
dirty.
Side by side with poor, decrepit houses, where greyish wash
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