sibue never inew.
seemed to me incomprehensible that things can be so completely
forpotten. For I now first realized that I had for a long time
thought so little about what had happened. Seven years ago, That
it might not have happened at all.
"You must have a great deal to tell me," she began again, “a
great deal. Of course, you've been doctor for a long time.”
“Not so long—for a month only.”
"You have still your baby-face,” she said. “Your moustache looks
as if it had been stuck on.”
The bell that called people toait sounded from the hotel,
"Goodtye,” she said, as if she had merely been waiting for the
signal.
“Cannot we go in together?” I asked.
“I dine with the boy in my private room. I don’t care to be in
. a crowd.”
“When shall we see each other again?”
She pointed, smiling with her eyes, to the little promenade,
"There it is impossible not to meet," she said, but added, when,she
saw that her answer had hurt me, "especially if you want to meet.
Goodtye for the present." She gave me her hand, and without
looking round walked away. The little boy, however, looked back
at me all the time till they vanished.
I have beendesing up and down the promenade the whole evening,
and she has not come out. Has she, after all, taken her departure?
I should not be surprised.
A whole day has gone by, and I have not seen her. It rained all
the morning, and I was almost the only person on the promenade,
Now and then I passed the house she is staying in, but I did not
know which were herussdows. In the afternoon the rain cleared,
and I took a long walk by the coast to the next place. It was very
heavy and sultry.
All the way I could think of nothing else but what once had been.
sverything came back to me distinctly. The hospitable house I had
lived in, and the little garden with the green, lacquered chair, and
tables. And I saw^the little town with it* quikt white streets, and
the distant hills melting away in the mist. Over all lay a canopy
of pale blue sky, which harmonised so perfectly with the environ-
ment that it seemed as if only there it could be so pale and blue,
And the living creatures belonging to that time came rividly before
me, my school-mates, my teachers, and Friederika's husband. I
saw him, not as he had appeared at that last moment. I saw him
with the Onntie, rather tired expression that he used to wear when
he passed us boys in the street after school-hours, and gave us a
oudly greeting; and I saw him as he sat, generally silent, between
Friederika and me at meals; and as I had often seen him out of my
window, at the little green lacquered table in the garden correcting
mine and his other pupils' work. I recalled how Friederika came
to him in the.garden, bringing him his afternoon coffee, and.smiled