"I! Run away!" thought Freya to herself, without looking down at
the scared girl. "Never."
Both the
resolutemistress under the mosquito-net and the
frightened maid lying curled up on a mat at the foot of the bed did
not sleep very well that night. The person that did not sleep at
all was Lieutenant Heemskirk. He lay on his back staring
vindictively in the darkness. Inflaming images and humiliating
reflections succeeded each other in his mind, keeping up,
augmenting his anger. A pretty tale this to get about! But it
must not be allowed to get about. The
outrage had to be swallowed
in silence. A pretty affair! Fooled, led on, and struck by the
girl - and probably fooled by the father, too. But no. Nielsen
was but another
victim of that shameless hussy, that
brazen minx,
that sly, laughing, kissing, lying . . .
"No; he did not
deceive me on purpose," thought the tormented
lieutenant. "But I should like to pay him off, all the same, for
being such an imbecile - "
Well, some day, perhaps. One thing he was
firmlyresolved on: he
had made up his mind to steal early out of the house. He did not
think he could face the girl without going out of his mind with
fury.
"Fire and perdition! Ten thousand devils! I shall choke here
before the morning!" he muttered to himself, lying rigid on his
back on old Nelson's bed, his breast heaving for air.
He arose at
daylight and started
cautiously to open the door.
Faint sounds in the passage alarmed him, and remaining concealed he
saw Freya coming out. This
unexpected sight deprived him of all
power to move away from the crack of the door. It was the
narrowest crack possible, but commanding the view of the end of the
verandah. Freya made for that end
hastily to watch the brig
passing the point. She wore her dark dressing-gown; her feet were
bare, because, having fallen asleep towards the morning, she ran
out
headlong in her fear of being too late. Heemskirk had never
seen her looking like this, with her hair drawn back
smoothly to
the shape of her head, and
hanging in one heavy, fair tress down
her back, and with that air of
extreme youth,
intensity, and
eagerness. And at first he was amazed, and then he gnashed his
teeth. He could not face her at all. He muttered a curse, and
kept still behind the door.
With a low, deep-breathed "Ah!" when she first saw the brig already
under way, she reached for Nelson's long glass reposing on brackets
high up the wall. The wide
sleeve of the dressing-gown slipped
back, uncovering her white arm as far as the shoulder. Heemskirk
gripping the door-handle, as if to crush it, felt like a man just
risen to his feet from a drinking bout.
And Freya knew that he was watching her. She knew. She had seen
the door move as she came out of the passage. She was aware of his
eyes being on her, with
scornfulbitterness, with triumphant
contempt.
"You are there," she thought, levelling the long glass. "Oh, well,
look on, then!"
The green islets appeared like black shadows, the ashen sea was
smooth as glass, the clear robe of the
colourless dawn, in which
even the brig appeared
shadowy, had a hem of light in the east.
Directly Freya had made out Jasper on deck, with his own long glass
directed to the
bungalow, she laid hers down and raised both her
beautiful white arms above her head. In that attitude of supreme
cry she stood still, glowing with the
consciousness of Jasper's
adoration going out to her figure held in the field of his glass
away there, and warmed, too, by the feeling of evil
passion, the
burning, covetous eyes of the other, fastened on her back. In the
fervour of her love, in the caprice of her mind, and with that
mysterious knowledge of
masculine nature women seem to be born to,
she thought:
"You are looking on - you will - you must! Then you shall see
something."
She brought both her hands to her lips, then flung them out,
sending a kiss over the sea, as if she wanted to throw her heart
along with it on the deck of the brig. Her face was rosy, her eyes
shone. Her
repeated,
passionate
gesture seemed to fling kisses by
the hundred again and again and again, while the slowly ascending
sun brought the glory of colour to the world, turning the islets
green, the sea blue, the brig below her white - dazzlingly white in
the spread of her wings - with the red
ensign streaming like a tiny
flame from the peak.
And each time she murmured with a rising inflexion: