We have not said to each other that we are in love, but we are very gentle with each other. It happens like this:
We met once. It was by chance. The day was grey with weariness. Twilight lay over all things. Yellow and red light came from a few houses.
We walked together. Her eyes had a brilliance. Sometimes she half covered them with her lids. And she caught the looks of men in her eyes. That must be a fine lust.
We did not speak; but once she said that I had red lips. And once I said that she was superficial, for I wanted to make her angry.
The next day we met again. That was not by chance. We walked in the meadows. She put her hand on my shoulder and was good to me. I thought of the kick that I would once day receive from her.
… Yesterday I hurt her, because I called her superficial. There was something like crying in her voice when she said:
"I'm really not as superficial as you believe, Olaf. Twice I have been in love unhappily and once it bloomed happily."
It seemed to me that her hand on my shoulder had become heavier…
We walked slowly. We saw no people. Wind came across the meadows.
In the sky there were clouds everywhere, threatening rain.
She looked at me. Her look was naked and spoke of passion.