“Here none of us has ever been before,” he said, “so now we’ll look about.”
They sauntered on up the street, now looking at the buildings, now at the canals and little bridges, at passing vehicles and promenaders, at signs and lamp-posts; but most of all, of course, they peered into shop windows.
The Lieutenant did not hurry them, he wanted them to see and enjoy as much as their eyes could take in.
“Nobody here knows us, so gaze as long as you like,” said he.
Mamselle Lovisa stopped before a milliner’s window, where a hat trimmed with white swansdown and pink rosebuds had caught her eye. There she stood, with Anna by the hand, as if rooted to the spot. And of course Lieutenant and Fru Lagerlöf, Johan, Back-Kaisa, and Selma were also obliged to stop before the swansdown hat. But Mamselle Lovisa was not thinking of them; she stood as in a trance. It tickled the Lieutenant to see her so carried away, though after a long, vain wait for her to “come back,” so to speak, he lost patience.
“You’re not thinking of copying that hat, Lovisa?” he said. “Why, that’s more suitable for a girl of seventeen.”
“It may be a pleasure perhaps for one who is not so young to look at pretty things,” retorted Mamselle Lovisa, who, though past her first youth, was still comely and rather elegant in her attire.
When they were well away from the swansdown hat they came to a goldsmith’s shop. Now it was the Lieutenant who stopped first. As he stood feasting his eyes on the trays of sparkling rings and bracelets, shining silver spoons and goblets, and much else displayed in the window, he ejaculated innocent oaths of delight.
“Here we’ll go in!” he said abruptly.
“But, Gustaf!” Fru Lagerlöf protested, “we can’t be buying such things now.”