“‘What did you say to Ottilia?’ I commenced. ‘She was so unhappy.’”
‘What did I say to her? Well, I said to her that she was a flirt. That’s what I said.’
‘How could you say such a thing?’ I replied. ‘Surely, you’re not jealous!’
‘I! Jealous of her!’ she burst out.
‘Yes, that’s what puzzles me, for I am sure an intelligent and sensible person like Ottilia could never have designs on another woman’s husband!’
‘No,’ (she was coming to the point) ‘but another woman’s husband might have designs on her.’
‘Huhuhu!’ she went for me tooth and nail. I took Ottilia’s part; Gurli called her an old maid; I continued to champion her. On this afternoon Ottilia did not turn up. She wrote a chilly letter, making excuses and winding up by saying she could see that she was not wanted. I protested and suggested that I should go and fetch her. That made Gurli wild! She was sure that I was in love with Ottilia and cared no more for herself. She knew that she was only a silly girl, who didn’t know anything, was no good at anything, and—huhuhu!—could never understand mathematics. I sent for a sleigh and we went for a ride. In a hotel, overlooking the sea, we drank mulled wine and had an excellent little supper. It was just as if we were having our wedding day over again, and then we drove home.”
“And then—?” asked the old woman, looking at him over her spectacles.
“And then? H’m! May God forgive me for my sins! I seduced my own little wife. What do you say now, granny?”
“I say that you did very well, my boy! And then?”