He began to long for her coming, as he had never before longed for any human step. He seemed to realize the helpless pathos of her beauty as he had never realized it before. He saw her bending naked over the stove, as he had seen her once, when, for wantonness, he had undressed her downstairs. He saw the calves of her legs, the curves of her thighs. He saw the peculiar loveliness of the back of her neck and the way her eyelid drooped upon her cheek, giving her profile such evasive innocence.

“You must come, Gerda! I don’t care for anything, except for you to come! If you come in now⁠ ⁠… safe and sound⁠ ⁠… you can sulk and scold and cry as much as you like!”