The sun sank deeper. People had left the island; only an occasional late
straggler was still seen walking along the road toward the city. Irgens
did not ask questions any more; he spoke only when necessary. Aagot tried
in vain to start a conversation; she had all she could do to keep her
heart under control.
When they were in the boat again he said: "Perhaps you would have
preferred to drive back alone? I may be able to find a hackman for you, if
you like."
"Now don't be angry any more!" she said.
She could hardly keep her eyes from brimming over; she forced herself to
think of indifferent matters in order to regain control over herself; she
gazed back toward the island, followed the flight of a bird that sailed
gracefully above the water. She asked:
"Is that water over there?"
"No," he answered; "it is a meadow; the dew makes it look dark."
"Imagine! To me it looked like water." But as it was impossible to talk
further about this green meadow they were both silent.
He was rowing hard; they approached the docks. He landed and jumped out to
help her ashore. Neither of them had gloves on; her warm hand rested in
his, and she took the opportunity of thanking him for the trip.
"I want to ask you to forget that I have bothered you with my heart
troubles," he said.
And he lifted his hat, without waiting for an answer, jumped into the
boat, and pushed off.
She had stopped at the head of the steps. She saw that he went back into
the boat, and wanted to call to him and ask where he was going; but she
gave it up. He saw her fair form disappear across the jetty.
He had in reality not intended to do this; he acted on the spur of the
moment, embarrassed as he was, hardly knowing what he was doing. He seized
the oars and rowed out again, towards the island. The evening was
wondrously calm. Now, when he was alone, he realised how deep was his
despair; another disappointment, another fall, the very worst! And not a
star in the murky night! He suddenly remembered Hanka, who probably had
looked for him to-day; who perhaps was seeking him even now. No; Hanka was
not fair; Hanka was dark; she did not radiate, but she allured. But how
was it--didn't she walk a little peculiarly? No, Hanka did not have
Aagot's carriage. And why was it her laugh no longer made his blood
tingle?
He rested on the oars and let the boat drift. It grew darker. Fragmentary
thoughts drifted through his brain: a rudderless ship on the buffeting
waves, an emperor in defeat, King Lear, thoughts and thoughts. He went aft
and began to write on the back of some envelopes, verse upon verse. Thank
God, nothing could rob him of his talent! And this thought sent a thrill
of warm happiness coursing through his veins.