Exhausted by vigils and anxiety Hedvig collapsed after Percy’s death. For several days she lay unconscious. Not one of those who arranged for the funeral knew any of Percy’s old artist friends. So the strange thing happened that he was driven out to Lidingö cemetery together with Peter, Stellan and an old gouty sea-captain from Gothenburg, whom he had never seen in his life.
Hedvig mourned him sincerely. As soon as she could stand up she hurried out to his grave. For months not a day passed without her paying it a visit. A rigid figure in black, she stood there under the snowcovered trees staring at his grave. Did she ask his pardon for her lie, for not laying his ashes in an urn in the Hill gallery? Did she fall back upon memories of their love, sensuous memories? Did she only try to fill an aching void with the foolish illusion of physical proximity? I don’t know, but it is a fact that the tears often came to her eyes. Hedvig cried, the tearless Hedvig....
Then she returned home to conferences with Levy, who was making the inventory. Percy had an old-established, solid fortune. He had only been obliged to sell an insignificant part of it in order to realize his dreams of a gallery. There was a cold, numb pleasure in hearing the clever Jew descant on funds, interest, dividend warrants and investments. It seemed as if the very soul of gold had spoken to her with glib tongue and beautiful though ironically curled lips. After a time she began to understand with a feeling of secret, refreshing joy how rich she really was.
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There was a charity fête at the Athletic Ground. The quadrille on horseback and the bicycle race were over and now people thronged round the tombola and the stalls.
Stellan did not look up at the sky when he stepped out into the saddling yard. He did not give a thought to the balloon whose gigantic yellow silk bubble was already beginning to swell out and shimmer in the cool September sunshine. No, his looks searched anxiously amongst the scattered groups of spectators outside the ring of guard. And he suddenly muttered a half-suppressed oath at the sight of Peter who, furious and massive as a bull, bore down on him from his ambush. He awaited the attack in the most deserted spot he could find. And a certain weariness appeared in the hard lines of his mouth: