Now he had reached the very top swaying in the wind. Breathless he pushed away a branch in order to be seen and to enjoy his triumph.
But the stone was empty. Nobody was visible.
“Laura,” he called, “Laura, do you see that I was not afraid?”
No answer. Down below everything was green, silent and empty. Above, abandoned, covered with dirt from the wet bark, Herman was sitting up among the whispering, swaying masses of leaves. His hands were aching, and he had an unpleasant sensation in his stomach. Most of all he would like to throw himself down and break his neck in order to punish a hard and unfeeling world.
He resisted this temptation, however, and climbed down with moderate care; he put on his coat and walked home in order to grind at the subjects in which he had failed in his examination last spring. You could see even by his back that he was deeply hurt and had nothing left but duty to live for.
But Laura stepped out from behind one of the trees in the avenue where she had been hiding with Stellan. She smiled and danced and her voice rang out clear and mocking in the mellow summer air:
“Were you hoarse yesterday, Herman? Were you hoarse yesterday?”
Herman did not answer. Only his back stiffened still more and he took still longer steps. And then he disappeared behind the willows by the wash house.
The next day Laura again sat astride the gun catching maple blossoms in her hat and looking down the avenue now and then, ready to begin the jolly game over again.
But that was not to be. Herman did not come. It was almost dinner time and still Herman did not come. “I see, he is sulking,” thought Laura. “Well, let him!” And with her nose in the air she hopped away to the lean Miss Isaksson and borrowed a big novel.