And I answer, and throw myself down on the road.

"_Godaften_, Edwarda," I say again, worn out with joy.

"That you should care for me so!" she whispers.

And I answered her: "If you knew how grateful I can be! You are mine,
and my heart lies still within me all the day, thinking of you. You are
the loveliest girl on earth, and I have kissed you. Often I go red with
joy, only to think that I have kissed you."

"Why are you so fond of me this evening?" she asks.

I was that for endless reasons; I needed only to think of her to feel
so. That look of hers, from under the high-arched brows, and her rich,
dark skin!

"Should I not be fond of you?" I say again. "I thank every tree in my
path because you are well and strong. Once at a dance there was a young
lady who sat out dance after dance, and they let her sit there alone. I
didn't know her, but her face touched me, and I bowed to her. Well? But
no, she shook her head. Would she not dance, I asked her? 'Can you
imagine it?' she said. 'My father was a handsome man, and my mother a
perfect beauty, and my father won her by storm. But I was born lame.'"

Edwarda looked at me.

"Let us sit down," she said.

And we sat down in the heather.