Читать книгу Modern Swedish Masterpieces: Short Stories - Hjalmar Soderberg - Страница 13

The coffin stood in the middle of the room. The black-clad woman walked back and forth, back and forth.

“No, he’s not coming——”

When he finally did come, he said, “Pardon me, beloved. I was delayed by someone who came to call——”

She nodded stiffly. She did not believe him, because he had not kissed her.

When he felt that they had stood too long silent, he said, “I must be off tomorrow. I’ve had a telegram from the minister.—But I swear to you that I’ll come back,” he added in a somewhat lowered voice as if he did not wish that the dead man should hear.

She comprehended that he was lying and that he never meant to see her again. And she nodded.

“Good-bye,” she said.

When he had gone, she went forward to the head of the coffin and looked at the dead man without thinking any further, for she was too weary. But as she stood there she remembered suddenly that she had loved him. She had loved other men too, but it came to her now that she had loved this one most. At that thought she felt the tears rise from deep down in her heart; she took his left hand, the one with the blue anchor, and wetted it with her kisses and her tears.