without a proper breakfast. Fetch a glass of wine, Marie.'
When we were alone grandmama called me to her. I knelt down in front of her, hid my head in her lap, bursting into tears. I tried to control myself, but I simply could not stop. Marie brought in the wine. I heard her come and go, but I went on sobbing, while grandmama softly stroked my hair. After all it was good to weep one's sorrow out, and blessedly comforting to feel grandmama's gentle hand on my head.
'Well, well, my dear child,' she repeated, while the weeping grew more quiet. But I still kept my head in her lap, not daring to meet her eyes. Yet the thought tortured me, that I had to get away, get to him to find out the truth.
Then grandmama said, and I shall never forget the unspeakable gentleness in her voice, 'You need not fear any question, darling. I am only an old woman, but I remember my youth, and I know that young hearts may have joys and sorrows which old hands should not touch. But should life—which God forbid—bring my little girl into some entanglement she cannot escape, as long as I am alive, she can always come to me. And now, get up, child, and run away, so as not to keep them waiting lunch for you. We need not say anything to father and mother about what has happened to-day, and the theatre ticket we will keep for another day. To-night it will be wiser for you to get early to bed.'
