turns her head and scrutinizes the streets behind her, exerts her
sensitive little brain to the utmost in trying to discover what book it is
I am talking about. Her face changes colour, has now one, now another
expression, and she is breathing quite audibly--even the very buttons on
her gown seem to stare at me, like a row of frightened eyes.

"Don't bother about him!" says her companion, taking her by the arm. "He
is drunk; can't you see that the man is drunk?"

Strange as I was at this instant to myself, so absolutely a prey to
peculiar invisible inner influences, nothing occurred around me without my
observing it. A large, brown dog sprang right across the street towards
the shrubbery, and then down towards the Tivoli; he had on a very narrow
collar of German silver. Farther up the street a window opened on the
second floor, and a servant-maid leant out of it, with her sleeves turned
up, and began to clean the panes on the outside. Nothing escaped my
notice; I was clear-headed and ready-witted. Everything rushed in upon me
with a gleaming distinctness, as if I were suddenly surrounded by a strong
light. The ladies before me had each a blue bird's wing in their hats, and
a plaid silk ribbon round their necks. It struck me that they were
sisters.

They turned, stopped at Cisler's music-shop, and spoke together. I stopped
also. Thereupon they both came back, went the same road as they had come,
passed me again, and turned the corner of University Street and up towards
St. Olav's place. I was all the time as close at their heels as I dared to
be. They turned round once, and sent me a half-fearful, half-questioning
look, and I saw no resentment nor any trace of a frown in it.

This forbearance with my annoyance shamed me thoroughly and made me lower