Short Fiction by Selma Lagerlöf (android based ebook reader txt) 📕

because he had not talked and danced only with her. But it had been pleasure enough for her to see how everyone liked Maurits. As if she had wished to exhibit their love to the general gaze! Oh, Downie was not so foolish!

Maurits danced many dances with the beautiful Elizabeth Westling. But that had not troubled her at all, for Maurits had time after time come up and whispered: “You see, I can’t get away from her. We are old friends. Here in the country they are so unaccustomed to have a partner who has been in society and can both dance and talk. You must lend me to the daughters of the county magnates for this evening, Anne-Marie.”

But Uncle, too, gave way to Maurits. “Be host for this evening,” he said to him, and Maurits was. He was everywhere. He led the dance, he led the drinking, and he made a speech for the county and for the ladies. He was wonderful. Both Uncle and she had watched Maurits, and then their eyes had met. Uncle had smiled and nodded to her. Uncle certainly was proud of Maurits. She had felt badly that Uncle did not really do justice to his nephew. Towards morning Uncle had been loud and quarrelsome. He had wanted to join the dance, but the girls drew back from him when he came up to them and pretended to be engaged.

“Dance with Anne-Marie,” Maurits had said to his uncle, and it had sounded rather patronising. She was so frightened that she quite shrank together.

Uncle was offended too, turned on his heel and went into the smoking-room.

Maurits came up to her and said with a hard, hard voice:⁠—

“You are ruining everything, Anne-Marie. Must you look like that when Uncle wishes to dance with you? If you could know what he said to me yesterday about you! You must do something too, Anne-Marie. Do you think it is right to leave everything to me?”

“What do you wish me to do, Maurits?”

“Oh, now there is nothing; now the game is spoiled. Think all I had won this evening! But it is lost now.”

“I will gladly ask Uncle’s pardon, if you like, Maurits.” And she really meant it. She was honestly sorry to have hurt Uncle.

“That is of course the only right thing to do; but one can ask nothing of anyone as ridiculously shy as you are.”

She had not answered, but had gone straight to the smoking-room, which was almost empty. Uncle had thrown himself down in an armchair.

“Why will you not dance with me?” she had asked.

Uncle Theodore’s eyes were closed. He opened them and looked long at her. It was a look full of pain that she met. It made her understand how a prisoner must feel when he thinks of his chains. It made her sorry for Uncle. It seemed as if he had needed her much more than Maurits, for Maurits needed no one. He was very well as he was. So she laid her hand on Uncle Theodore’s arm quite gently and caressingly.

Instantly new life awoke in his eyes. He began to stroke her hair with his big hand. “Little mother,” he had said.

Then “it” came over her while he stroked her hair. It came stealing, it came creeping, it came rushing, as when elves pass through dark woods.

III

One evening thin, soft clouds are floating in the sky; one evening all is still and mild; one evening the air is filled with fine white down from the aspens and poplars.

It is quite late, and no one is up except Uncle Theodore, who is walking in the garden and is considering how he can separate the young man and the young woman.

For never, never in the world shall it come to pass that Maurits leaves his house with her at his side while Uncle Theodore stands on the steps and wishes them a pleasant journey.

Is it a possibility to let her go at all, since she has filled the house for three days with merry chirping, since she in her quiet way has accustomed them to be cared for and petted by her, since they have all grown used to seeing that soft, supple little creature roving about everywhere. Uncle Theodore says to himself that it is not possible. He cannot live without her.

Just then he strikes against a dandelion which has gone to seed, and, like men’s resolutions and men’s promises, the white ball of down is scattered, its white floss flies out and is dispersed.

The night is not cold as the nights generally are in that part of the country. The warmth is kept in by the grey cloud blanket. The winds show themselves merciful for once and do not blow.

Uncle Theodore sees her, Downie. She is weeping because Maurits has forsaken her. But he draws her to him and kisses away her tears.

Soft and fine, the white down falls from the great ripe clusters of the trees⁠—so light that the air will scarcely let them fall, so fine and delicate that they hardly show on the ground.

Uncle Theodore laughs to himself when he thinks of Maurits. In thought he goes in to him the next morning while he is still lying in his bed. “Listen, Maurits,” he means to say to him. “I do not wish to inspire you with false hopes. If you marry this girl, you need not expect a penny from me. I will not help to ruin your future.”

“Do you think so badly of her, uncle?” Maurits will say.

“No, on the contrary; she is a nice girl, but still not the one for you. You shall have a woman like Elizabeth Westling. Be sensible, Maurits; what will become of you if you break off your studies and go into trade for that child’s sake. You are not suited to it, my boy. Something more is needed for such work than to be able to lift your hat gracefully from your head and to