“Good God! Am I not to be allowed to go out? How can women be so obtrusive?”
“Obtrusive? Yes, I noticed that yesterday, when I met you. I’ll never meet you again.”
“But, darling, I was with my chief—”
“Huhuhu!”
She burst into tears, her body moved convulsively.
He had to call the maid and ask her to fetch the hot-water bottle.
He, too, was weeping. Scalding tears! He wept over himself, his hardness of heart, his wickedness, his illusions over everything.
Surely his love for her wasn’t an illusion? He did love her! Didn’t he? And she said she loved him, too, as he was kneeling before her prostrate figure, kissing her eyes. Yes, they loved one another! It was merely a dark cloud which had passed, now. Ugly thoughts, born of solitude and loneliness. She would never, never again stay alone. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, her face dimpled with smiles.
But she did not go to meet him on the following day. He asked no questions at lunch. He talked a lot, but more for the sake of talking than to amuse her; it seemed as if he were talking to himself.
In the evening he entertained her with long descriptions of the life at Castle Sjöstaholm; he mimicked the young ladies talking to the Baron, and told her the names of the Count’s horses. And on the following day he mentioned his dissertation.