Mary - Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson (bookstand for reading TXT) 📗

thought of doing what he threatened. He had spoken in jest. But when he saw her run, and with a speed for which he would have given neither her nor any other woman credit, his soldier's blood took it as a challenge. Alice saw this and said hurriedly: "Don't do it." The words flung themselves in his way so insistently that he stood doubtful. But Mary yonder on the road in the white dress with the red hair above it, running with a step so swift and light that the very rhythm of it allured him, nay, bereft him of his senses ... he was off before he knew what he was about, just as Alice called for the second time, in an agonised tone: "Don't do it!"

The strip of light above the dust of the road in front of him shone into his eyes and his imagination like the sun. It blinded him. He ran without consciousness of what he was doing. He ran as if: "Catch me! Catch me!" were being shouted in front the whole time. He ran as if the winning of life's highest prize depended on his reaching Mary.

She had a long start of him. Precisely this incited to the uttermost exertion of all his powers. A race for happiness with one who desired to be beaten! Blood at the boiling point surged in his ears; desire burned in it. The longings of all these days and nights were tumultuously urging him on to victory. Speak they would at last. No, speech would be uncalled for; he would have her in his arms.

Now Mary turned her head--saw him, gave a cry, gathered up her dress. She actually owned a still swifter pace, did she! Madness seized Frans. He believed that the cry was a lure. He saw Mary make a forward sign with her hand; he believed that she was showing where she would stop and consider herself safe. He must reach her before she got there. He, too, had a last spurt in reserve; it brought him with a rush close in upon her. He seemed to perceive the fragrance exhaling from her; next moment he must hear her breathing. He was so excited that he did not know he had touched her until she looked round. She let her dress fall at once, and after one or two more swift steps, stood still. His arm went round her waist; he was on fire; he drew her tightly to him--to hear the angriest: "Let me go!" Want of breath gave it its excessive sharpness. Frans was appalled, but felt that he must support her until she recovered breath, and therefore retained his hold. Again came with the same compressed sharpness of breathlessness: "You are no gentleman!" He let go.

The clatter of horses' hoofs was heard; the carriage was approaching rapidly. The servants on the box must have witnessed the whole occurrence; it was to them she had waved. During his wild chase he had seen her alone.

Now she walked towards the carriage. She held her handkerchief to her face; she was crying. The servant jumped down and opened the carriage door.

Frans turned away, desperate, his mind paralysed. Alice came up. She was carrying her own shawl and Mary's hat, and went straight towards the carriage without taking notice of him. When he attempted to join her, she waved him off.

* * * * *


The third day after the occurrence Frans called upon Alice. He was told that she was not at home. The following day he received the same answer. After this he was absent from Paris for some days; but immediately on his return he called again. "She has just gone out," answered the servant. But this time he simply pushed the man aside and went in.

Alice stood eagerly examining a collection of objects of art; table and chairs were covered with them, they stood about everywhere. "Alice--!" said Frans, gently and reproachfully. She started, and at that moment he caught sight of her father behind her. He at once came forward as if he had said nothing.

The art treasures were collected and laid aside, Frans assisting. Mr. Clerc left the room.

"Alice!" now repeated Frans Roey in the same reproachful tone. "You surely do not mean to close your door to me? And just when I am so unhappy?"

She did not answer.

"We who have always been such good friends and had such good times together?"

Alice looked away from him and gave no answer.

"Even if I have behaved foolishly, we two surely know each other too well for that to separate us?"

"There are limits to everything," he heard her say.

He was silent for a moment. "Limits? limits? Come now, Alice. Between us there is surely no--"

Before he could say more she broke out: "It is inexcusable to behave in such a way before other people!" She was scarlet.

"Yes. You mean?" He did not understand.

She turned away. "To treat me in such a manner before Mary----what must Mary think?"

Never until now had it occurred to him that he had behaved badly to her, to Alice, too; all this time he had thought only of Mary. Now, ashamed of himself, dreadfully ashamed of himself, he came forward.

"Will you pardon me, Alice? I was so happy that I did not think. I didn't understand till this moment. Forgive a poor sinner! Won't you look at me?"

She turned her head towards him; her eyes were unhappy and full of tears; they met his, which were also unhappy, but beseeching. It was not long before his and hers melted into each other. He stretched out his arms, embraced her, tried to kiss her; but this he was not allowed to do.

"Alice, dear, sweet Alice, you will help me again!"

"It is of no use. You spoil everything."

"After this, I will do every single thing you ask me."

"You promised the same before."

"But now I have learned a lesson. Now I shall keep my promise. On my honour!"

"Your promises are not to be relied on. For you do not understand."

"I don't understand?"

"No, you don't understand in the least who she is!"

"I confess that I must have been mistaken, for even now I fail to comprehend what made her so angry."

"That I can quite believe."

"Yes. When she threw everything away and ran, I felt certain that it was to get me to run after her."

"Did you not hear me call twice: 'Don't do it!'?"

"Yes, but I did not understand that either."

Alice sat down with a hopeless feeling. She said no more; she thought it useless to do so. He seated himself opposite to her.

"Explain it to me, Alice! Did you not see how she laughed when I danced off with you?"

"Has it not dawned upon you yet that there is a difference between us and her?"

"Mary Krog is most unassuming; she makes no pretensions whatever."

"Quite so. But now you are misunderstanding me again. Whereas we are ordinary beings, whom other people may touch with impunity, she dwells in a remoteness which no one as yet has diminished by one foot. It is not from pride or vanity that she does so."

"No, no!"

"She _is_ like that. If she were not, she would have been captured and married long ago. You surely don't imagine that proposals have been wanting?"

"Everyone knows they have not."

"Ask Mrs. Dawes! She keeps a diary of them in her thousand letters. She writes about nothing else now."

"But what, then, is the explanation of it, dear Alice?"

"It is quite simple. She is gentle, sweet-tempered, obliging--all this and more. But she dwells in an enchanted land, into which none may intrude. She preserves it inviolate with extraordinary vigilance and tact."

"To touch her is forbidden, you mean?"

"Absolutely! Fancy your not understanding that yet!"

"I did understand; but I forgot."

Frans Roey sat silent as if he were listening to something far away. Again he heard the sharp cries of fear which thrilled through the air as he drew near, saw the terrified sign to the carriage, felt Mary's trembling body, heard the ejaculation uttered with all her remaining strength, saw her walk on, weeping. All at once he understood! What a stupid, coarse criminal he was!

He sat there dumb, miserable.

But it was not in his nature to give up. His face soon brightened.

"After all, dear Alice, it was only a game."

"To her it was more. You are surely not still in doubt as to that?"

"She has been pursued before, you mean?"

"In many different ways."

"Consequently she imagined----?"

"Of course. You saw that she did."

He did not reply.

"But now tell me, my dear Frans--was it not more than a game to you, too? Was it not all-decisive?"

He bowed his head, ashamed. Then he walked across the room and came back.

"She is a queen. She will not be captured. I should have stopped----?"

"You should never have gone after her. And she would have been yours now."

Frans seated himself again as if a heavy weight were pressing on his shoulders.

"Did she say anything?" asked Alice with a searching look.

He would have preferred not to tell, but the question was repeated.

"She said that I was no gentleman."

Alice declared this to be too bad. Frans then asked if Mary had said anything to her in the carriage.

"Not a word. But I spoke. I abused you--well."

"She has not referred to the matter since?"

Alice shook her head. "Your name is erased from her dictionary, my friend."

* * * * *


Some days after this Frans received by tube-post a hurried note which informed him that at eleven that morning the two ladies would again be at the exhibition in the Champs Elysees. It was eleven when the note came.

Mary had called to ask Alice to go with her to look at a Dutch coast landscape which her father wished to buy. They considered the price rather high; possibly Alice would be able to make better terms. Mary's carriage was waiting at the door. Alice left her, wrote hastily to Frans Roey, and then went to dress, which to-day, contrary to custom, took her a long time. They drove to the exhibition, found the picture, and went to the office, where they had to wait. After making their offer and giving the address, they returned to the ground-floor of the exhibition in search of the acrobat. He stood there now in all his manly strength. Alice reached him first, and exclaimed "Why! it is----," then stopped short and walked away from Mary. She examined the statue from every side, over and over again, without saying a word. Precisely that which distinguished Frans Roey--that his strength did not announce itself in distended muscle, but in the elasticity of a beautifully formed, lithe body--was to be observed here. Frans Roey's toss of the head, his