Read The Boat in the Evening for Free Online Page A

Why shouldn’t it? I mustn’t move, she thought. I want it like this. Not to be snowed under, but I’ll look different, and that’s what I want. Everything’s different this evening.
    He shall see me like this, different, when he comes to meet me.
    She stood as motionless as the dark man of iron. He was lonely and deserted. The girl was bubbling inside with joy.
    I’ll stand like this till he comes. She thought: He’s no man of iron; he’s a live boy. ‘Is it you?’ he’ll say. ‘Or is all this just snow?’ he’ll say.
    Warmer and warmer.
    What does the snow matter then?
    *
    It was the first time they were going to meet like this, by agreement. It felt important. It was more important than the evening and the snow.
    She thought:
    What shall I find out?
    What is he like? I don’t know much about him. I’ve only seen him a couple of times.
    There was music in her and she said:
    But I know enough. I’ve seen enough.
    It could snow as much as it liked; she was thinking about the coming meeting.
    What will he do?
    She was really thinking only this one thing. What will he do?
    He’ll say ‘Good evening’ and take my hand.
    Yes, yes, but what will he do?
    He could do many things.
    Will his hands come close after a while perhaps? They do that, I know. Someone has done that already, but I’m not going to think about it, because it wasn’t as it ought to have been.
    Tonight it will be right.
    I wonder how much will be right this evening?
    This was a dangerous train of thought. She completely forgot her plan about the snow that was going to transform her and make her beautiful. Her thoughts were suddenly as wild as the snowstorm and just as difficult to check. She did not check them until she had taken the measure of all she knew, and it proved to be more than she had expected.
    She looked about her and thought: Good thing no one can see what you’re thinking.
    She shut it away.
    Meanwhile it went on snowing, building her up into towers and spires. She carried it well. She was short and lightly built, and seventeen.
    *
    He’s no older either, she thought. It won’t be long now before I shall find out something, whatever it may be. It’s almost time. I wanted to be first and stand waiting for a long time.
    There he is!
    Through the whirling snow she caught sight of something coming towards her, seeing it only as something black.
    It is, and here I am with all this snow on me!
    It was a man or a boy, and he was approaching quickly. But she started in surprise: it was not the boy she was waiting for. It was someone else, from her own neighbourhood. Someone she knew slightly. The boy she was waiting for didn’t even live here. What does this mean? That he’s passing purely by chance, of course. Don’t move a muscle because of him.
    But he stopped right in front of her and gazed at her as she stood in her heavy robes, her eyes glittering deep in the snow.
    â€˜What on earth ...?’ he began, but did not finish it. Sudden astonishment. He stood there and simply looked at her. She couldn’t help it, she looked back at him with that charm she was capable of putting into it; it happened automatically before she had time to feel ashamed. Her eyes were dancing inside the wet snow. It was true that the shadow was not real shadow, after all.
    He came close. Suddenly she felt afraid and whispered, ‘What is it?’
    He put out his hand as if to touch the snow piled on her, but withdrew the hand again. It seemed an unconscious gesture.
    She whispered, ‘What is it?’
    No answer. He looked at her, thunderstruck. Walked round her, his eyes fixed on her all the time. She did not revolve with him, but whispered into the air after him, ‘What is it?’
    Now he seemed to remember. He gazed into her face. But still he gave no answer to her question. She had stopped glittering at him, even though it was tempting to