A woman's voice outside the hut. The blood rushed to my head--it was
Edwarda. “Glahn--Glahn is ill, so I have heard.”
And my washerwoman answered outside the door:
“He's nearly well again now.”
That “Glahn--Glahn” went through me to the marrow of my bones; she said
my name twice, and it touched me; her voice was clear and ringing.
She opened my door without knocking, stepped hastily in, and looked at
me. And suddenly all seemed as in the old days. There she was in her
dyed jacket and her apron tied low in front, to give a longer waist. I
saw it all at once; and her look, her brown face with the eyebrows
high-arched into the forehead, the strangely tender expression of her
hands, all came on me so strongly that my brain was in a whirl. I have
kissed _her_! I thought to myself.