When I looked at her — we were then at the house of a friend — her face was brimming with gaiety and cheer, and with her blue eyes, and her golden hair falling over her shoulders, she was the very likeness of the clear blue sky and of the sunbeams reflected on the surface of a calm sea. This was not my first acquaintance with her; I had known her years before, when she was a schoolgirl coming and going in her black dress — that traditional dress the school had adopted as the emblem of its girls, to be worn over their clothes.
At that time I was a young employee, with no experience of the job, its responsibilities and its burdens; barely a year, or part of a year, had passed since I left school, and I had no concern but to keep the office hours, lest it be said that so-and-so was a few minutes late — exactly as in my schooldays...
One day the office director came to me and said: "Good news — you are to take the place of your chief in the section where you work, and so you will rise a grade.." I thanked the director for his good opinion and his esteem, and I do not know how I thanked my colleagues who congratulated me on my new position. And from that time on I began to feel the responsibility laid upon me.
I took to going early to my place of work, to finish the tasks that had piled up on me from the previous day. And I would meet her on my way every day. How beautiful was that black garment, which lent the beauty of her fair coloring enchantment and splendor. I confess to you that I used to hate the color black and take it for an ill omen, and I do
not know how I came to love it and to long for it.
She was a shy young thing, walking in modesty and bashfulness, carrying in her hand a few books — sometimes many, sometimes few — until one day I saw her carrying a single book.. How I wished to step up to her and carry her heavy burden for her, and how I wished to escort her to the school myself, so that no one might look at her. I had come to be jealous over her of everything — even of myself.. I do not know whether she knew anything of what stirred within my breast; but at all events she knew that there was someone who gazed at her, and hovered about her, every day.
And there came that historic day of my life — a day when the sky poured down rain and refused to clear even for a while. I was holding my umbrella on my way to the office, with a tightness in my heart, and a gloom, for I supposed she would not come on this rainy day. But she came.. There I saw her, standing under the balcony of that house, waiting for the rain to stop, the school hour already past, or nearly so.
Hesitation was a sickness that had worn me down all my life, entering my soul, fettering my hand and paralyzing my mind; and this time I strove against it, after it had so often overcome me. Before I knew it I was drawing near her, the words stumbling in my mouth, and I felt the sweat streaming down my brow — though the weather was rainy and the cold severe. But at last I mastered myself and opened with a greeting, saying: "Good morning..." And I gave her no chance to reply, but went on: "Would the young lady
permit herself to shelter under my umbrella, so that we may cross the road?" She glanced at me with a look of surprise and astonishment — yet all of it kindness and tenderness. And we set off across the road; she would leap for fear her feet might sink into the mud, and I would leap in my turn, holding my umbrella for fear the rain might wet her.
Perhaps I do not lie to you when I say that I took in nothing of what I said or of what she said. All I know is that when she reached the school, she greeted me with thanks and bade me farewell with an enchanting smile, which was all I desired. And when I reached the office, somewhat late, I was still swimming in a sea of reveries, the water dripping from my clothes and the umbrella in my hand..
The days passed swiftly, and I would see her — or say, rather, I would follow her steps — contenting myself with a glance from her blue eyes, by whose gleam I found light all my day long, so that I imagined her in every face I saw. And I came to curse any day on which I did not see her, to count it unlucky and to take it for an ill omen. And I had a companion, one of my most loyal friends, who would give me counsel and speak to me sincerely; to him I would pour out what was in my soul and what seethed in my heart. Sometimes he would mock me and sometimes pity me, and toward this attitude of his I was half content with him and half resentful.
Forget — never shall I forget what happened that morning, when the office messenger brought me
a letter — and how few are the letters that reach me! I opened it at once and read: