Part 20 (1/2)

I stole away, a little ashamed to be there so early, wandered up Carl Johann for a while, and kept my eyes on University Street. When the clocks struck eight I walked once more towards St. Olav's Place. On the way it struck me that perhaps I might arrive a few minutes too late, and I quickened my pace as much as I could. My foot was very sore, otherwise nothing ailed me.

I took up my place at the fountain and drew breath. I stood there a long while and gazed up at the window of No. 2, but she did not come.

Well, I would wait; I was in no hurry. She might be delayed, and I waited on. It couldn't well be that I had dreamt the whole thing! Had my first meeting with her only existed in imagination the night I lay in delirium? I began in perplexity to think over it, and wasn't at all sure.

”Hem!” came from behind me. I heard this, and I also heard light steps near me, but I did not turn round, I only stared up at the wide staircase before me.

”Good-evening,” came then. I forget to smile; I don't even take off my hat at first, I am so taken aback to see her come this way.

”Have you been waiting long?” she asks. She is breathing a little quickly after her walk.

”No, not at all; I only came a little while ago,” I reply. ”And besides, would it matter if I had waited long? I expected, by-the-way, that you would come from another direction.”

”I accompanied mamma to some people. Mamma is spending the evening with them.”

”Oh, indeed,” I say.

We had begun to walk on involuntarily. A policeman is standing at the corner, looking at us.

”But, after all, where are we going to?” she asks, and stops.

”Wherever you wish; only where _you_ wish.”

”Ugh, yes! but it's such a bore to have to decide oneself.”

A pause.

Then I say, merely for the sake of saying something:

”I see it's dark up in your windows.”

”Yes, it is,” she replies gaily; ”the servant has an evening off, too, so I am all alone at home.”

We both stand and look up at the windows of No. 2 as if neither of us had seen them before.

”Can't we go up to your place, then?” I say; ”I shall sit down at the door the whole time if you like.”

But then I trembled with emotion, and regretted greatly that I had perhaps been too forward. Supposing she were to get angry, and leave me. Suppose I were never to see her again. Ah, that miserable attire of mine! I waited despairingly for her reply.

”You shall certainly not sit down by the door,” she says. She says it right down tenderly, and says accurately these words: ”You shall certainly not sit down by the door.”

We went up.

Out on the lobby, where it was dark, she took hold of my hand, and led me on. There was no necessity for my being so quiet, she said, I could very well talk. We entered. Whilst she lit the candle--it was not a lamp she lit, but a candle--whilst she lit the candle, she said, with a little laugh:

”But now you mustn't look at me. Ugh! I am so ashamed, but I will never do it again.”

”What will you never do again?”

”I will never ... ugh ... no ... good gracious ... I will never kiss you again!”

”Won't you?” I said, and we both laughed. I stretched out my arms to her, and she glided away; slipped round to the other side of the table.