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hen-coop. The kindly greeting of the servants and peasants
when she met them seemed to say: Our young lady suffers
wrong, and we know it. We are sorry, and we hate the
woman up there as much as you do.
But in Copenhagen?
There was Lucie, and she was very fond of her, but
after all she was a servant. Marie was in Lucie’s
confidence and was pleased and grateful for it, but Lucie was
not in her confidence. She could not tell her troubles to the
maid. Nor could she bear to have the fact of her
unfortunate position put into words or hear a servant discuss her
unhappy family affairs. She would not even brook a word
of criticism against her aunt, though she certainly did not
love her father’s kinswoman and had no reason to love her.
Rigitze Grubbe held the theories of her time on the
salutary effects of harsh discipline, and she set herself to bring
up Marie accordingly. She had never had any children of
her own, and she was not only a very impatient
foster-mother, but also clumsy, for mother love had never taught
her the useful little arts that smooth the way for teacher
and pupil. Yet a severe training might have been very good
for Marie. The lack of watchful care in her home had
allowed one side of her nature to grow almost too luxuriantly,
while the other had been maimed and stunted by capricious
cruelty, and she might have felt it a relief to be guided in
the way she should go by the hard and steady hand of one
who in all common sense could wish her nothing but good.
Yet she was not so guided. Mistress Rigitze had so
many irons in the fire of politics and court intrigue that she
was often away for days, and when at home she would be
so preoccupied that Marie did with herself and her time
what she pleased. When Mistress Rigitze had a moment to
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