That Milla should hold back from them as though they were the guilty ones and not she, Nora would not endure; one day, therefore, they all surrounded her, and asked for an explanation. Milla was offended and tried to get away, but it did no good. She then told them that they had led her into doing what was not right, and she would have nothing more to do with it. The only answer she got was from Nora's great eyes, but she reddened under them. Of course she had taken part in what had been done, she did not deny it; but she did not wish to feel as ashamed of herself again as she had done during the last few days. The others asked if she thought they had been less ashamed than she?
Milla now told them, with a slight air of superiority, that in her first fright at Karl Vangen's discourse, she had asked her father if she might accompany him when he went to the South German Baths. He had consented with great pleasure. She could not draw back now, they were to start in a few days.
At first, all the friends felt Milla's coldness in having proposed to go away without telling them. But Milla now felt this herself, for she altered her demeanour from that moment, and tried to do away with the impression. It was she now who was most amiable about everything. When the drawing mistress appeared in a very pretty cloak and hat, without any one being able to find out who "the kind friend" was from whom she had received them, it was at once clear to the three friends that they came from Milla. She denied it certainly, but that was all the nicer of her. So the short resentment changed on both sides to a closer friendship during the few days that she still had with them. Her father gave a "farewell dinner," the great event at which was the unveiling of a cake, on the top of which four sugar girls held each other with fingerless hands as they danced round a red flag with "Emancipation" on it; round the plinth was written "The Society." But derision was useless. This same Society gave a farewell entertainment to Milla the next day. All good spirits hovered over this, their last meeting, with its many short speeches, its music and songs--over its whole tone.
A girl of a serious turn of mind recalled that all the pleasure that they had had together during their school year had been begun beside Fru Engel's grave; it was closing with Milla's farewell entertainment. Milla was touched, quite overwhelmed; she declared that she was altogether unworthy, she did not deserve the kindness which they showed her; she was not all they thought her.
Tora came up and embraced her, and they all felt that this was genuine. Tora was grateful for the happiest days of her life; she whispered this to Milla, which had a good effect. They ended by seeing Milla home; she took Tora's arm. "Bad times are beginning for me," sobbed Tora.
"But I shall come back again, Tora."
Tinka scolded her for her extravagant way of speaking, it was making the whole thing into a caricature and an absurdity; but this was not the first time that Tora had done so.
When they said good-bye before Milla's door, Tora ran after her up the steps and into the hall; she was never satisfied. When inside she took out a box which Milla knew at once--it contained her one ornament; she had inherited it from her uncle, who had brought it in his youth from California. It was some pieces of rough gold made into a heavy chain, a beautiful piece of work; she pressed it into Milla's hand; she had never worn it herself. But Milla would not think of taking it from her, she did not know how she could justify herself to her father if she were to do so; she refused it decidedly, coldly at last, so that Tora was vexed and ran off. But Milla fetched her in again, held her tightly in her arms, and kissed her. Did she not believe that Milla realised what a great thing it was which she wished to do? But it was a matter of conscience for Milla to say no. They must not part in this way; Tora should stay with her, she should stay the night there. And it was so settled. When girls are really fond of each other, they love to sleep together.
The others, who had remained outside, waited a while. As Tora did not rejoin them, they walked on a little way; they were annoyed with her. They all returned, however, and came quietly through the garden-gate and past the office. A little while afterwards the two friends up in the bedroom heard a subdued chorus of girls' voices under the window, led by Tinka's contralto: they sang "Sleep in peace."
The curtain was half raised; they saw two figures in white; two heads--one dark, one fair-looked, nodding and laughing, out.