hair. 'Never before have I had such a beautifully packed trunk.'
He stood close to me, handing me the things, nodding and smiling to me.
Suddenly I said: 'If I were to beg you to stay, would you give up this journey?'
He looked at me in amazement, thought for a moment, and said: 'Do you mean it?'
'Well, if I did mean it?'
Another inquiring glance, another reflection and then: 'I should stay—of course.'
I had got the answer I wanted. Yet it did not make me happy. We stood looking at each other, then he came up to me, put his arm round my waist and said, in the most gentle and tender way, that he would stay with the greatest pleasure, and that it would not be the slightest sacrifice on his part to give up this trip. After which I of course said, I had only meant it in fun.
The packing was not finished until the last moment. The cab was already waiting. He was anxious not to be late, and we said a hurried good-bye to each other. I stood hidden behind the curtain, peeping down into the street. He caught sight of me, waved his hand and swung his hat. He looked so handsome and so radiant, just as if he was starting out to meet victory and happiness.
The cab turned the corner, and I let the curtain fall. I walked through the rooms, could not tear myself away from them. I sat down on the couch, where I usually sat with him. On the table in
