“No.”
Cordt moved restlessly in his chair, rose to go and sat down again. Fru Adelheid struggled with herself not to go over to him and take his hand and talk to him. Then he said:
“He has been so odd, lately. Brighter than usual, but more absent, nevertheless. He is not shamming, but still he is not himself.”
Cordt went on talking about it, without looking at her and not so much in order to tell it to her as because he could not keep silent. She saw this exactly and turned away her face and cried quietly. Then he asked:
“Haven’t you noticed it?”
“I think he is much as usual.”
Cordt rose and crossed the room. He stood for a time by the chimney, where she sat, and stared into the fire. She looked up at him with bright, moist eyes. Then he went over and sat where he had been sitting before and it was silent in the room.
“I wonder, oughtn’t you to go up to him, Adelheid?”
He could not hear her reply and looked across at her. She had stood up and was coming towards him. He saw that she was very pale and that she was crying, but did not think about it and forgot it again at once.
Then she sat by him ... so close that her white gown lay over his feet. She crossed her hands in her lap and parted them again and did not look at him while she spoke: