Loppen was used to such things, and to keeping men away from her. But it was another affair altogether, now. She could not cuff Consul With, whom all the town saluted and who was so elegant.
Besides he was so old—thought she; and finally she was so possessed and strangely unnerved by this long day with the many new things; it all blended together before her; she did not clearly realize who it was she was sitting with in the dark carriage; all the time she was thinking of Svend, and was so confused that she felt so very, very fortunate and tired.
In summer Consul With lived in a villa down by the fjord. He had the coachman drive into the enclosure; but alit with Elsie at the garden gate. She did not wish to go in with him; but he seized her by the hand.
“Oh! my rose!” cried Elsie; he had broken off all its petals.
“Only come along, and you shall have all the roses you want,” he whispered and drew her with him.
It was quite dark in the narrow walk between the bushes, where he let her go before him.
She begged him to let her go home—half deferentially yet, but he answered only in jest.
Close to the house stood some rare, yellow roses; the Consul looked up at the windows, then stole up to them, and cut them all off with his pen-knife.
Elsie had her hands full; she had to thank him indeed; they were so lovely there in the dusk; and they had a peculiar, fine perfume which she had never smelled; they were roses and yet they were not her roses.
But when he opened a small door at the rear of the house, it ran through her that that was for no good purpose. She tried to flee; but he seized her nimbly about the waist, drew her inside, and closed the door.