“But when I heard what he said, I cut off his words as swiftly as I could, and answered:
“'No, how can you imagine it? There was nothing crowing then.'
“He kissed me.
“Then it was evening again, and Dundas was gone. Something golden thrilling through me. I stood before the glass, and two eyes all alight with love looked out at me; I felt something moving in me at my own glance, and always that something thrilling and thrilling round my heart. Dear God! I had never seen myself with those eyes before, and I kissed my own lips, all love and desire, in the glass...
“And now I have told you. Another time I will tell you of Svend Herlufsen. I loved him too; he lived a league away, on the island you can see out there, and I rowed out to him myself on calm summer evenings, because I loved him. And I will tell you of Stamer. He was a priest, and I loved him. I love all...”
Through my helf-sleep I heard a cock crowing down at Sirilund.
“Iselin, hear! A cock is crowing for us too!” I cried joyfully, and reached out my arms. I woke. Æsop was already moving. “Gone!” I said in burning sorrow, and looked round. There was no one—no one there. It was morning now; the cock was still crowing down at Sirilund.
By the hut stood a woman—Eva. She had a rope in her hand; she was going to fetch wood. There was the morning of life in the young girl's figure as she stood there, all golden in the sun.
“You must not think...” she stammered out.
“What is it I must not think, Eva?”