"But, Irgens, you should not say such things to me. You know you shouldn't. It is sad, but I cannot help it now."
"No, you are right; I don't suppose I ought to have said it, but—" He gazed at her; his lips were trembling too. "But, Miss Aagot, what would you do if your love made you weak and powerless; if it robbed you of your senses and blinded you to everything else? I mean—"
"Yes, but say nothing more!" she interrupted. "I understand you in a way, but—You know, I cannot listen to this." She looked at the arms around her waist, and with a sudden jerk she moved away and got up.
She was still so confused that she remained standing immobile; she did not even brush the heather from her dress. And when he got up she made no effort to go, but remained where she was.
"Listen, I want you to promise not to tell this to anybody. I am afraid— And you must not think of me any more. I had no idea that you really cared; of course, I thought that you liked me very much—I had begun to think that; but I never thought—'How could he care for me?' I always thought. If you want me to I will go back to Torahus and stay there awhile."
He was deeply moved; he swallowed hard and his eyes grew moist. This delicious simplicity, these candid words, her very attitude, which was free from fear and entirely unaffected—his feelings flared up in him like a consuming flame: No, no, not to Torahus—only stay! He would control himself, would show her that he could control himself; she must not go away. Even should he lose his mind and perish altogether—rather that, if she would only stay!
He continued talking while he was brushing off her dress. She must pardon him; he was not like everybody else, he was a poet; when it came over him he must yield. But he would give her no further cause for complaint if she would only stay…. Wouldn't she mind going away the least little bit, though? No, of course, he had no false illusions.
Pause. He was waiting for her to answer, to contradict him; perhaps she would go to Torahus a little regretfully after all? But she remained silent. Did she, then, hold him in so slight regard? Impossible! Still, the thought began to worry him; he felt aggrieved, hurt, almost slighted. He repeated his question: Did all his love for her not call forth the tiniest responsive spark in her heart?
She answered gently and sorrowfully:
"Please do not ask. What do you think Ole would say if he heard you?"