Page:Karl Gjellerup - Minna, A novel - 1913.djvu/328

 of the window and lit one cigarette after another. When he threw in a remark or question about art in London or some such thing, Minna regarded him with an astonished and hard look, in the way one looks at a child who has been naughty, and who, without having asked pardon, tries to pretend that nothing has happened and joins in the conversation. It was evident that this treatment annoyed him very much; each time he grew silent as soon as possible. But it also troubled me; however painful it would have been to witness a loving confidence between them, it made my heart ache to see their unhappy condition so openly laid bare, and I did not understand how she could behave in such a way, even before me.

True, I would have concealed my meeting with the German musician, but when it came to the point I told it all the same. Minna said nothing, but gazed out of the window.

"Funny how small the world is!" Stephensen remarked. "One always runs against one another either directly or indirectly."

"And it was then you left?" Minna suddenly asked, turning her head quickly as a bird, and giving me a penetrating look.

This diversion completely threw me off my guard.

"Yes, then—then I left," I stuttered, and turned crimson.

Stephensen looked at us with an intensely ironical expression, as if he said: "Now I suppose it will soon come to a declaration in optima forma. Well, I shan't stand in the way, don't mind me." Minna gave him a short glance, and his smile at once disappeared.

"Do tell me, Harald," she asked, leaning forward on her arm, "why didn't you join us, that evening, in the café?"

"What café?"