“I wonder if you will sleep to night? he thought an hour later. The shadows of the storm blown leaves led a wild dance on his counterpane, and in between the light of the moon quivered like little tongues of white flame.
“On that midsummer night the moon shone just as bright,” and then he remembered how white Elsbeth’s dressing gown had looked, peeping out underneath her dark cloak.
“That was the finest night of my life,” he murmured, with a sigh, and then he decided to go to sleep! and drew his blanket over his head to strengthen his resolution.
Some time after, he thought he heard his father get up softly in the next room and limp out at the door. He could distinctly hear how the crutch clattered on the stone flags of the hall.
“He will come back directly,” he thought, for it often happened that his father got up in the night.
With that he fell into an uneasy doze, in which all sorts of terrible dreams chased each other through his head. When he next came to full consciousness the moon was already high in the heavens, her beams now scarcely illumined his room at all, but the garden and yard lay bathed in light.
“Strange—it seems to me as if I had not heard father come back,” he said to himself. He sat up and looked at the watch that was hanging over his bed.
“Light minutes to one.” Two hours had elapsed meanwhile.
“I suppose I was fast asleep,” he thought, and was about to lie down again. Then the house door, caught by the storm, slammed noisily to, so that the whole house shook.
He jumped up, terrified What is that? The house door open, father not back yet? The next moment he had thrown on his coat and trousers, and with bare feet and bare head rushed out.