“Is grey, you mean?” He swung off impatiently a few steps and came back again.
And then I faced him, more innocently than ever, with an inspiration surely sent from above:
“Now I remember! Yes.... I've always seen it grey in my mind, ever since one day—it was Fruen that said so....”
I was watching him closely; he gave a great start and stared at me wide-eyed for a moment; then he took out his handkerchief and began fidgeting with it at one eye as if to get out a speck or something.
“Indeed!” he said. “Did she say so?”
“Yes, I'm almost sure it was that. It's a long time back now, but....”
“Oh, nonsense!” he broke out abruptly, and strode away. I heard him clearing his throat—hard—as he crossed the courtyard behind.
I stood there limply for a while, feeling anything but comfortable myself. I dared not go on with the painting now, and risk making him angry again. I went round to the back and put in an hour cutting firewood. When I came round again, the Captain looked out from an open window upstairs and called down:
“You may as well go on with it now you've got so far. I don't know what possessed you, I'm sure. But get on with it now.”
The window had been open before, but he slammed it to and I went on with the work.