she was not thinking of anything. She watched the swarms of flics that were warming themselves upon the wall; frightened by her steps, they rose in a semicircle, flashed their metal-colored bodies, and fell like arrows further away.
Suddenly she loocked up. Frau von Fischmeister and the commissary’s wife were coming from the opposite direction. Lucy stepped more firmly, but the two ladies crossed on the other side . . . they came nearer . . . they were in one line . . . Lucy bowed politely . . . they did not answer the greeting . . . they were looking sidewise, deep in a lively conversation . . . they passed. . . .
Again, as before, Lucy walked more leisurely; she felt a stinging sensation, as if some one were looking at her from behind. She turned around: both the ladies were standing and looking at her. Lucy bowed once more, rather timidly and undecidedly,—they did not answer, but sharply turned
