XI

Ask of some what Love is and it will be no more than a breeze murmuring

among the roses and then dying away. But again it is often like an

inviolable seal that lasts for life, lasts till death. God has created

it of many kinds and seen it endure or perish:

Two mothers are walking along a road and talking together. One of them

is dressed in gay blue garments because her lover has come home from a

journey. The other is dressed in mourning. She had three daughters, two

of them dark, the third fair, and the fair one died. That is ten years

ago, ten whole years, and still the mother wears mourning for her.

"It is so glorious today!" cries the blue-clad mother exulting, and

claps her hands. "The warmth goes to my head, love has gone to my head,

I am full of happiness. I could strip myself naked here on the road and

stretch out my arms to the sun and send it kisses."

But the black-clad mother is silent and neither smiles nor makes reply.

"Are you still sorrowing for your little girl?" asks the Blue one in

the innocence of her heart. "Is it not ten years since she died?"

The Black one answers:

"Yes. She would have been fifteen now."

Then the Blue one says to console her:

"But you have other daughters alive, you have two left."

The Black one sobs:

"Yes. But neither of them is fair. She who died was so fair and bright."

And the two mothers part and go their several ways, each with her

love....

But the same two dark daughters had also, each her love, and they loved

the same man.

He came to the elder and said:

"I wish to ask your advice, for I love your sister. Yesterday I was

untrue to her, she surprised me kissing your servant girl in the

passage; she gave a little scream, it was like a whimper, and passed

by. What am I to do now? I love your sister; for Heaven's sake speak to

her and help me!"

And the elder sister paled and put her hand to her heart; but she

smiled as though she would bless him and answered:

"I will help you."

The next day he went to the younger and threw himself on his knees

before her and confessed his love.

She looked him up and down and answered:

"Unfortunately I can't spare more than ten shillings, if that is what

you mean. But go to my sister, she has more."

With that she left him, holding her head proudly.

But when she had reached her room she threw herself upon the floor and

wrung her hands with love.

* * * * *

It was winter and the streets were cold, with fog, dust and wind.

Johannes was back in town, in his old room where he heard the creaking

of the poplars against the wooden wall and from whose window he had

more than once greeted the dawning day. Now the sun was gone.

His work had occupied him the whole time, the big sheets he had filled,

growing and growing as the winter wore on. It was a series of fairy

tales from the land of his fancy, an endless night in a crimson sunset

glow.

But the days were not all alike, he had both good and bad, and

sometimes when his work was going best, a thought, a pair of eyes, a

word from the past might strike him and quench his inspiration at once.

Then he got up and began to pace his room from wall to wall; he had

done that so often that he had worn a white path across the floor and

it grew whiter every day....

"Today, as I cannot work, cannot think, cannot rest for memories, I

will set myself to describe what befell me one night. Dear Reader,

today I have had such a terribly bad day. It is snowing outside, there

are scarcely any people in the streets, everything is dismal and my

soul is so fearfully desolate. I have been walking in the street and

then for hours in my room and have tried to compose myself a little;

but now it is afternoon, and I am no better. I who should be warm am

cold and pale like a sunless day. Dear Reader, in this state I am

trying to describe a bright and thrilling night. For work forces calm

upon me and when a few more hours are past I shall perhaps be happy

again...."

There was a knock at the door and Camilla Seier, his young secret

fiancé, came in. He put down his pen and got up. They both smiled as

they shook hands.

"You don't ask me about the ball," she said at once, throwing herself

into a chair. "I danced every single dance. It lasted till three

o'clock. I danced with Richmond."

"Thank you so much for coming, Camilla. I am so miserably depressed and

you are so cheerful; that will help me. Fancy, and what did you wear at

the ball?"

"Red, of course. Oh dear, I can't remember, but I must have talked a

lot and laughed a lot. It was so jolly. Yes, I was in red, no sleeves,

not a hint of them. Richmond is at the Legation in London."

"I see."

"His people are English, but he was born here. What have you been doing

to your eyes? They're so red. Have you been crying?"

"No," he answered with a laugh; "but I have been staring into my

stories and there is so much sunshine there. Camilla, if you want to

be a really nice girl, don't tear up that paper any more than you have

done."

"Oh I say, how absent-minded I am. Excuse me, Johannes."

"It doesn't matter; it is only some notes. But let's hear now: I

suppose you had a rose in your hair?"

"Oh yes! A red rose; it was almost black. I'll tell you what,

Johannes, we might go to London for our wedding trip. It isn't nearly

so awful as people say and it's all nonsense about the fogs."

"Who told you that?"

"Richmond. He said so last night, and he knows. You know Richmond,

don't you?"

"No, I don't know him. He once proposed my health; he had diamond studs

in his shirt. That's all I remember about him."

"He's simply sweet. Oh, when he came up and bowed and said: I expect

you hardly remember me.... Do you know, I gave him the rose."

"Did you though? What rose?"

"The one I had in my hair. I gave it him."

"You must have been very taken with Richmond."

She turned red and protested warmly:

"Not a bit, far from it. Surely one can like a person, think them nice,

without.... For shame, Johannes, are you mad? I shall never mention his

name again."

"But, bless me, my dear Camilla, I didn't mean ... you mustn't

think.... On the contrary, I should like to thank him for having

entertained you."

"Yes, you just do it--you dare! For my part I'll never say another

word to him as long as I live."

Pause.

"Well, well, let's say no more about it," he said. "Are you going

already?"

"Yes, I can't stay any longer. How far have you got with your work now?

Mamma asked about it. Fancy, I haven't seen Victoria for several weeks

and I met her just now."

"Just now?"

"As I was coming here. She smiled. But my goodness, how she has

changed! Look here, aren't you coming to see us soon?"

"Yes, soon," he answered, jumping up. A flush had spread over his face.

"Perhaps in a day or two. I have to write something first, I've just

thought of it, a conclusion to my tales. Oh, I shall write something,

I tell you! Imagine the world as seen from above, like a rare and

splendid pontifical robe. In its folds people are walking about; they

walk in couples, it is evening and calm, the hour of love. I shall call

it 'The Race.' I think it will be great; I have had this vision so

often, and every time I feel as if my breast would burst and I could

embrace the earth. There they are, men and women, beasts and birds and

all of them have their hour of love, Camilla. A wave of rapture is

at hand, their eyes grow more ardent, their bosoms heave. Then a fine

blush rises from the earth; it is the blush of bashfulness from all

their naked hearts, and the night is stained a rosy red. But far away

in the background lie the great sleeping mountains; they have seen

nothing and heard nothing. And in the morning God throws his warm sun

over all. 'The Race' I shall call it."

"I see."

"Yes. And then I'll come when I've finished it. Thank you so much for

coming here, Camilla. And don't think any more about what I said. I

didn't mean any harm by it."

"I'm not thinking about it at all. But I shall never mention his name

again. Never."

* * * * *

The next morning Camilla came again. She was pale and in an unusual

state of excitement.

"What is the matter with you?" he asked.

"Me? Nothing," she answered quickly. "It's you I am fond of. You really

mustn't think there's anything the matter with me and that I'm not fond

of you. No, now I'll tell you what I've been thinking: we won't go to

London. What do we want there? He can't have known what he was talking

about, that man, there's more fog than he thinks. You're looking

at me, what makes you do that? I never mentioned his name. Such a

storyteller, he filled me up with lies; we won't go to London."

He looked at her, studied her attentively.

"No, we won't go to London," he said thoughtfully.

"That's all right! So that's settled. Have you written that thing about

the Race? I'm so frightfully interested. You must get it finished very

quickly and come and see us, Johannes. The hour of love, wasn't that

it? And a lovely papal robe with folds, and a rosy red night; heavens,

how well I remember what you told me about it. I haven't been here

so often lately, but now I'm going to come every day to hear whether

you've finished."

"I shall soon have finished," he said, still looking at her.

"Today I fetched your books and took them into my own room. I wanted to

read them over again; it won't tire me the least, I'm looking forward

to it. Look here, Johannes, you might be so kind as to see me home; I

don't know whether it's quite safe for me all the way home. I don't

know. Perhaps there's somebody waiting for me outside here, somebody

walking up and down perhaps...." Suddenly she burst into tears and

stammered: "I called him a storyteller, I didn't mean to say that. I'm

sorry I said it. He hasn't told me lies, on the contrary he was all

the time.... We're going to have some friends on Tuesday, but he's not

coming, but _you_ must come, do you hear? Will you promise? But all the

same I didn't want to say anything bad about him. I don't know what you

think of me...."

He answered:

"I am beginning to understand you."

She threw herself on his neck, hid her face on his breast, trembling

with agitation.

"Oh, but I'm fond of you too," she exclaimed. "You mustn't think

anything else. I don't love only him, it isn't so bad as that. When

you asked me last year I was so glad; but now he has come. I don't

understand it. Is it so awful of me, Johannes? Perhaps I love him a

tiny bit more than you; I can't help it, it has come over me. O dear,

I haven't slept for several nights since I saw him and I love him more

and more. What am I to do? You are so much older, you must tell me. He

walked here with me, he's standing outside waiting to see me home again

and now perhaps he's cold. Do you despise me, Johannes? I haven't

kissed him; no, I haven't, you must believe me; I've only given him my

rose. Why don't you answer, Johannes? You must tell me what I'm to do,

for I can't bear it any longer."

Johannes sat quite still and listened to her. He said:

"I have nothing to answer."

"Thanks, thanks, dear Johannes, it is so good of you not to be wild

with me," she said, drying her tears. "But you mustn't think I'm not

fond of you too. Goodness! I shall come and see you much oftener than I

have done and do everything you want. But the only thing is that it's

he I'm more fond of. It wasn't my doing. It's not my fault."

He got up in silence, put his hat on and said:

"Shall we go?"

They went downstairs.

Outside stood Richmond. He was a dark-haired young man with brown eyes

that sparkled with youth and life. The frost had reddened his cheeks.

"Are you cold?" said Camilla, flying up to him.

Her voice trembled with emotion. Suddenly she hurried back to

Johannes, put her arm through his and said:

"Excuse me for not asking whether _you_ were cold. You didn't put on

your overcoat; shall I go up and get it? No? Well, anyhow button your

jacket."

She buttoned his jacket.

Johannes offered his hand to Richmond. He was in a strangely absent

mood, as though what was happening did not concern him. He gave an

uncertain half-smile and muttered:

"Glad to meet you again."

Richmond showed no sign of guilt or of dissimulation. As he shook hands

the pleasure of recognition flashed across his face and he made a

polite bow.

"I saw one of your books the other day in a shop-window in London," he

said. "It had been translated. It was so jolly to see it there, like a

message from home."

Camilla walked in the middle and looked up at each of them in turn. At

last she said:

"Then you'll come on Tuesday, Johannes. Oh, excuse me for thinking only

of my own affairs," she added with a laugh. But the next moment she

repented and turned to Richmond, asking him to come too. He would only

meet people he knew, Victoria and her mother were asked, besides them

only about a dozen were coming.

Suddenly Johannes stopped and said:

"After all I may just as well go back."

"See you on Tuesday," Camilla answered.

Richmond took his hand and pressed it sincerely.

So the two young people went on their way, alone and happy.