The other three began to propose different cafés. Helge knew none of the names; his father had not mentioned them. Miss Jahrman rejected them all.
"Very well, then, let us go down to St. Agostino; you know the one, Gunnar, where they give you that first-rate claret," and Jenny began to walk on, accompanied by Heggen.
"There is no music," retorted Miss Jahrman.
"Oh yes, the man with a squint and the other fellow are there almost every night. Don't let us waste time."
Helge followed with Miss Jahrman and the Swedish sculptor.
"Have you been long in Rome, Mr. Gram?"
"No, I came this morning from Florence."
Miss Jahrman laughed. Helge felt rather snubbed. He ought perhaps to have said he was tired, and gone home. On their way down through dark, narrow streets Miss Jahrman talked all the time to the sculptor, and scarcely answered when he tried to speak to her. But before he had made up his mind he saw the other couple vanish through a narrow door down the street.
"What's wrong with Cesca again tonight? We are getting too much of her tempers lately. Take off your coat, Jenny, or you'll be cold when you go out." Heggen hung his coat and hat on a peg and sat down on a rush chair.
"She is not well, poor girl, and that man Gram, you see, followed us a while before he dared to speak to us; and anything of that kind always puts her out of temper; she has a weak heart, you know."
"Sorry for her. The cheek of the man."
"Poor thing, he was wandering listlessly about and could not
