"So your father is going to Russia?"

"What did you get up like that for, so quickly?" she asked.

"Because it is late, Edwarda," I said. "Now the white flowers are
closing again. The sun is getting up; it will soon be day."

I went with her through the woodland and stood watching her as long as I
could; far down, she turned round and softly called good-night. Then
she disappeared.

At the same moment the door of the blacksmith's house opened. A man with
a white shirt front came out, looked round, pulled his hat down farther
over his forehead, and took the road down to Sirilund.

Edwarda's good-night was still in my ears.



XIV


A man can be drunk with joy. I fire off my gun, and an unforgettable
echo answers from hill to hill, floats out over the sea and rings in
some sleepy helmsman's ears. And what have I to be joyful about? A
thought that came to me, a memory; a sound in the woods, a human being.
I think of her, I close my eyes and stand still there on the road, and
think of her; I count the minutes.