CHAPTER III

SEPARATED FROM THE OTHERS

By the next day Tora had heard that Niels Fürst said she was "out and away the handsomest girl he had seen in Norway." She would not believe it at first, but she heard it on all sides during the next few days. The next time she met Kaja Gröndal she told her the same thing. Tora knew her through Milla, and always spoke to her. She had so far recovered her usual flippancy that she answered that, "If Lieutenant Fürst had not such bad taste, it would have been embarrassing for the rest of the Norwegian girls."

The summer came in with great heat; every one who could, went into the country, to different places on the coast, or up to the houses on the mountains. As soon as ever the school closed they were off; only a few of the poorer ones remained behind, and Tora among them. Nora went to the Baths with her mother; Tinka's relations were well to do, and had a country house. Anna Rogne was in the town; with Rendalen's help she was preparing herself for the post of history teacher in place of Karen Lote, who was leaving the school. But Anna was not easy of access, more especially for Tora, on account of her friendship with Milla. Even when, for all that, Tora did go to see her, she found her so occupied and anxious (she was to take the junior classes after the holidays) that Tora became tired of her. Tora was now again living down at the Point with her mother (her father was never mentioned), where she shared an attic with two of her sisters. She lived in a hurry-scurry and disorder, and had a feeling of self-reproach and disgust for herself, which she shook off whenever she could cross the ferry and run up into the wood above "The Estate," or along the road to the right from the market-place, to the "Groves." This was a pleasure-ground in the wood near the road, a large open space with a number of small "groves"--that is to say, levelled patches, sometimes with benches and tables; an elaborate network of paths went in and out among them.

One Saturday afternoon she wished to go there to listen to the band, but on the way to the Fröckener Jensens, where she was going to try to get a companion, she met Kaja Gröndal; she had come into the town to meet her husband, but he had not arrived. "Would not Tora come back with her instead? The steamer left in an hour's time."

Tora had a great weakness for invitations. Within the hour she was back again with a large hat-box, in which she had put her night-things and a white dress.

The next morning, Sunday, she was standing on the terrace before the Gröndals' little country house. On her right were all the flowers from the house, which had just been brought out to have the benefit of the rain--as yet it was only wet fog; behind the garden, on the right, it was drifting among the fir-woods; she could see the nearest trees and a little of the bare hillside lower down towards the sea, a faintly gleaming strip of which, was also to be seen. The fog lay very low, there was not a breath of wind. She could hear the steamer, which had just whistled, away to the left where the pier was; now she could see her passing quickly--a vague outline, a thicker, darker, moving cloud--through the white fog. She did not concern herself further about her, but looked towards the path which led up from the landing-place between this garden and the next. Just opposite was a low yellow railing, a very handsome one, of cast-iron; behind it, some old trees in a garden blotted out by the fog; there, she knew, stood several houses which she could not see from here. One of them was the Wingaards', where there was to be a party to-day.

Who would she meet there? She stood and thought about it. Fru Wingaard had been a Fürst; would Niels Fürst be there? She stood thinking. He was in the reserve fleet, which was lying in the Channel.

Why should he not come? It was Sunday; why should he not bring several of the officers with him?

If Tora had known this before she went on board the steamer yesterday, would she have come? She asked herself the question to-day. Directly she had heard it she had felt a trembling sensation, she felt it at times again to-day; but the disagreeable feeling was gone, oddly enough, she thought. Did she really wish to meet him? She did not want to be disturbed by him--no, nor yet to be looked at as she had been before. But to see him, to be seen by him, if it should so chance? Yes, she did wish that--she wished it very much.

When she went along the terrace, to the steps which led up from the left, she could see quite into the sitting-room, and also, in a looking-glass, whether the door of the inner room, where Fru Gröndal slept, was open. No, it was still shut; so she went back to where she had been before.

She could still follow the steamer--that is to say, a dark moving cloud among the fog which hung on every side. The balustrade of the terrace was wet; she dried her hands, forgot, and put them on it again.

She need not have brought the white dress; it was fine rain now. The birds enjoyed the damp, they were singing all round her. Trees, flowers, and grass enjoyed it too.

She noticed their different scents; one of these carried her thoughts far, far away to a country house near Havre, close by the sea; clear blue air, ships, steamers, a long strip of sand, the lazy wash of the waves upon it; close to the sea a country house, low and grey; there they lived. The narrow gate into the garden was open; she stood there on a stone bench, in a short frock and with bare arms; she could see herself in the long striped stockings which she had admired so much the first time she had put them on; she peered over the hedge, and the scent of the flowers was wafted to her again and again, just as it was now. It was nearly evening, her uncle would be coming from the town. The path through the gloomy orchard was gravelled--she heard his step.

Here to the left, in the fine rain, she saw an immense umbrella and white trousers below it. It was not raised enough for her to see who was coming; even now, when the garden-gate had to be opened, it was not lifted, it was only held more forward; but she knew now that the step on the gravel was coming, not towards the country house at Havre, but here; it was not her uncle, but----?

The umbrella was raised, its owner stood inside the garden. A dark coat, a straw hat, and a very puzzled face were seen; she felt something of the uneasiness from which she had thought herself free, but as he looked at her it passed off; just the reverse of what had occurred the last time.

He had evidently not expected to see a dark lady on the terrace, perhaps no one at all, so early in the day. But it was by no means disagreeable to him; he smiled and raised his hat, there was nothing in his eyes to-day which hurt her. He paused at the steps, the umbrella lay on his right shoulder while he laid his left arm on the balustrade and leaned against it. That was a well-formed hand with the signet-ring on it. He was slight and active; his head was noticeable for three things; a nervous sensuous mouth, which was constantly moving, the lips twitching backwards and forwards, in and out, as though moved by a string--the lips themselves being short and full; a pair of large eyes, roguish and gentle, though they stabbed when he put his head a little backward and half shut them: excessively curly hair of a golden colour, and long reddish whiskers. As he leaned over the balustrade, there was a repose about him full of careless enjoyment. But this mood was not to be depended upon, nor would one readily do so, for there was something in the head, body, and hands which, behind the gentle, lazy, pliable manner, reminded one of a cat.

Tora both felt and saw this, but to-day it was with more curiosity than fear.

"What an unexpected pleasure to meet you here; have you been here long?"

"I came here yesterday evening with Fru Gröndal; she was in the town."

"Was she, indeed?"

And the two slipped into a conversation about the journey here, the weather, the place, without having been introduced to each other--a conversation without any other object than to have an excuse for looking at one another. The conversation was in short, disjointed sentences, without colour or calculation, except in so far that the last remark never remained the last.

He stood below and studied her with growing pleasure; the shape of her head, her features, her manners and expression. The eyes really shone under the long thick lashes--what colour were they? They looked black, but---- And her figure! her neck, arms, complexion, her dark hair, her dress; he put himself quite on one side, he was entirely occupied with her. How long this continued, they neither of them knew--it was a considerable time; he did not wish to disturb himself, she did not wish to disturb him. She saw herself in a living mirror, but the pleasure was not an innocent one, for by degrees it made her feel giddy. She collected herself and broke off the conversation; walked across the terrace to some flowers, and occupied herself with their petals, among which she made havoc. He came slowly up, with his umbrella over his shoulder, drawing his left hand along the balustrade.

"Of course you are going to my sister's this afternoon?"

"Fru Gröndal will get an invitation for me," she said.

"Of course; we shall have some dancing--will you give me the first waltz?"

She did not look up. "Will you not dance the first waltz with me?"

She felt through her whole being that she ought not to answer him. "I beg your pardon, I forgot that we had not been introduced; but as you know who my sister is, you must have some idea who I am."

He smiled and came nearer, always with the big umbrella, and with his left hand gliding along the balustrade. She raised herself, but did not answer. "So there is some agreement about the first waltz?" He said it a little carelessly, in rather a patronising way, almost as though he were offended.

He put down the umbrella and turned towards the entrance. "Of course Fru Gröndal is at home." He went in. Tora was about to add, "But she is not up." But that would look rather like asking him to stay here. Besides, Fru Gröndal must be so nearly dressed that she could warn him off herself, when she heard him in the sitting-room.

He went in there, but did not come out again. Had Fru Gröndal gone there? No, there was no talking. She went towards the steps and looked into the mirror; the bedroom door was wide open.

Down the steps she flew, and through the garden, away into the wood, out of it again, for it was too wet; and out on to the mountain towards the sea, under the lee of the wood; there she sat down on a large stone. She was trembling: her breast heaved as though it would burst.

"Fröken Holm!" called Fru Gröndal; "Fröken Holm!" She really was dressed, then. That call must be either from the terrace or the garden. Perhaps Fru Gröndal had been out when he went into the sitting-room, that was why there had been no talking. Tora could not collect herself sufficiently to answer Fru Gröndal, and as she had not answered the first time, it seemed to her that she must disregard the other calls as well. Very soon she heard no more.

What time was it? Could he have come to make a call on a lady at that early hour? And to come straight from the landing-place, not to his sister's, but to Fru Gröndal's. What was the time? But she had not her watch with her, she had forgotten it.

There were the white trousers coming up the hill towards her, and the umbrella as well! She was pursued and discovered. "Dear me, did you not hear Fru Gröndal call you?" Tora did not answer. "And you are so wet--without an umbrella too; pray come under mine. Why did you run away?" No answer. "Fru Gröndal has been making egg-flip for us the whole morning."

"Has she really?"

"Yes, really; her husband was to have been here this morning, and he owes me some egg-flip. But he has not come."

"What time is it?"

"What on earth do you want to know for? It is just eleven."

"Just eleven?"

"Yes, see for yourself." He held out a massive American gold watch towards her, opening the case as he did so. She was silent and walked on. As they approached the garden, she asked him how he had found her so quickly. Why, he had seen her footprint in the sand here, and he had drawn his own conclusion. No one would go into the wood when it was so wet, so she must be on the hill.

They eat egg-flip together very merrily; but an hour later Tora was sitting alone in her room, in the attics--she had fastened the door; and at six o'clock the same evening, as the guests were assembling at the Wingaards', she was on board the steamer, which was returning to the town.

What had happened? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! But like the fog over the landscape, which still hung there, although not so low as in the morning, there lay something over all this, which was vague and puzzling to her. She could not bear to be with Fürst and Fru Gröndal. She could not be natural with them; everything she said or did seemed preposterous.

She did not therefore venture to go to the party; the mere thought of waltzing with Fürst made her tremble.

It would not do. There was nothing for it but to fly. She made herself appear terribly foolish, in trying to find reasons for her flight; such a one as that she had crumpled her white dress in her hat-box, could be answered by a hot iron; that her mother expected her, presupposed a letter by carrier pigeon.

All the same here she was on board the steamer. It was really an achievement. She was delighted. The rest of the passengers were up on the bridge, or in the deck cabin; the windows were open. She went forward where there were two or three work-people. She sat down a long way from them. It thoroughly delighted her when the steamer swept past the islets at the entrance; it seemed as though she were leaving something oppressive.

The evening was fine, notwithstanding the fog; it was mild, and the rain had ceased. The islands among which they steamed stood out clear, their many tinted hills, the green patches of grass, the gardens and houses--for almost all were inhabited--were seen with unusual distinctness, as well as the people who sat or stood about, and watched the steamer as she passed. Tora thought she would like to live in such a place; she made a day-dream that she did so; she sat there and arranged her house according to her taste--this time with great simplicity, that soothed her after what she had left.

All at once the discomfort began again, a feeling of depression, the old sense of insecurity--only a recollection, of course, she thought, and drew a long breath, but she felt impelled to turn round and look behind her.

There he stood on the deck, four or five steps away from her. He bowed and smiled. Deadly white, then crimson, she turned angrily away.

"Come, you must not be angry with me; I would rather go back to the town with you, than dance till five o'clock in the morning. Is that so strange? I am not so contemptible for that, am I?"

He sat down behind her; she knew it, and moved a little way from him.

"Why do you do that now? Of course it is only to talk to you that I have come with you; you can see that."

A feeling of both shame and fear came over her; she was alone now, separate from all the others. She felt as though she could have called to them by name. Whenever Tora felt how solitary she was, she began to cry.

He noticed it, and in quite another tone of voice he said, "Dear Fröken Holm, you must not misunderstand me; I do not want to annoy you, anything rather than that. It would give me great pleasure to talk to you, I confess; may I not be allowed to do so? Why may I not?" She did not answer, but she ceased crying.

He slipped into conversation on indifferent topics, and calmed her, lamenting that they had not become acquainted earlier. "The first time I saw you I said to myself--well, no matter what I said, but I had just a little wish to see you again; it was fulfilled quite unexpectedly to-day; but we did not have any conversation, you were so strange; why was that? Well perhaps you were not strange, but why did you go away? I might imagine that I was to blame for that. You certainly did not want to go before I came--eh? You have made me quite curious, I assure you. If I really did drive you away, I should like to hear what I frightened you with; was it with the big umbrella--by chance? Ah, now you are laughing! But why will you insist in travelling about _par tout_, Fröken? Just tell me that." He moved a little nearer, and she remained sitting; he chatted and joked without any pause. She once turned half round to look at his roguish face, and then she laughed with him. He was very amusing.

Close by one of the numerous stopping-places was a red house, where a number of young people were gathered round some gymnastic apparatus. A young man and a young woman each held a rope in a "giant's strides." He set off after her with all his strength; a few steps on the ground, and then a long swing in the air; then again a few steps, and another long swing. Would he reach her? Never! She was the lighter, the more active, and she had undoubtedly stronger legs--she ran trip, trip, trip, trip; her legs hardly seemed to be apart, and how she flew swinging through the air! Her hair, her dress streaming after her, a very Iris! Both Fürst and Tora followed this chase, silent but eager. Tora felt his presence at her back, like fire; he had come nearer; and, turning abruptly, she went into the cabin and sat down among the others. He was standing on the landing-place when she went on shore at the Point; he offered her his hand, but she turned away; he wanted to carry her box, but she ran off. He went on board again to go up into the harbour.