"The guard touched his cap and went. I said something, I don't know what; I was
a little embarrassed.

"'You will write to me, Oscar, won't you, and tell me about everything?'

"'Oh, yes,' I replied, 'as soon as I get settled down, you know. There will
be such a lot to do at first, and I am wild to see everything. I wonder how
the professors will treat me. I do hope they will not be fools or prigs;
what a pity it is that all professors are not poets. . . . .' And so I went
on merrily, when suddenly the whistle sounded and a moment afterwards the train
began to move.

"'You must go now,' I said to him.

"'Yes,' he replied, in a queer muffled voice, while standing with his hand on
the door of the carriage. Suddenly he turned to me and cried:

"'Oh, Oscar,' and before I knew what he was doing he had caught my face in his
hot hands, and kissed me on the lips. The next moment he had slipped out of the
door and was gone. . . . .

"I sat there all shaken. Suddenly I became aware of cold, sticky drops
trickling down my face--his tears. They affected me strangely. As I wiped them
off I said to myself in amaze:

"'This is love: this is what he meant--love.' . . . .

"I was trembling all over. For a long while I sat, unable to think, all shaken
with wonder and remorse."