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 daresay. A month ago I might have.… She was so sweet to me once, so kind and confidential, and I was not used to that kind of thing. I took it as—well, as l'invitation à la valse, you see, but now … I still think she is sweet, but I don't mind in the least if she dances with somebody else."

He was lying looking at her: "I believe it is you, Jenny, I am in love with," he said suddenly.

She turned half-way towards him, with a faint smile, and shook her head.

"Yes," said Helge firmly; "I think so. I don't know for certain, for I have never been in love before—I know that now—although I have been engaged once." He smiled to himself. "It was one of my blunders in the old foolish days.

"This, I am sure, is love. It was you, Jenny, I saw that evening—not her. I noticed you already in the afternoon when you crossed the Corso. I stood there thinking that life was new, full of adventure, and just then you passed me, fair and slender, and stranger. Later, when I had wandered about in this foreign town, I met you again. I also noticed Cesca, of course, and no wonder I was a little flustered for a moment, but it was you I saw first. And now we are sitting here together—we two."

Her hand was close to him as she sat leaning on it; suddenly he stroked it—and she drew it away.

"You are not cross with me, are you? It is really nothing to be cross about. Why should I not tell you that I believe I am in love with you? I could not resist touching your hand—I wanted to feel that it was real, for it seems to me so wonderful that you are sitting here. I do not really know you, though we have talked about many things. I know that you are clever, level-headed, and energetic—and good and truthful, but I knew that the moment I saw you and heard your voice. I don't know any more about you now, but there is of course a great deal more to learn—and perhaps I shall never learn it.