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quite forgive him for that trip to Spain. She felt that she had
aged in this long time, had grown timid and listless, while
he would come fresh from the glamor and stir, full of youth
and high spirits, finding her pale and faded, heavy of step
and of mind, nothing like her old self. At first he would be
strange and cold to her; she would feel all the more cast
down, and he would turn from her, but she would never
forsake him. No, no, she would watch over him like a
mother, and when the world went against him he would
come back to her, and she would comfort him and be kind
to him, bear want for his sake, suffer and weep, do
everything for him. At other times she thought that as soon as
she saw him all must be as before; yes, they romped through
the rooms like madcap pages; the walls echoed their
laughter and revelry, the corners whispered of their kisses—
With this fancy in her mind she fell intoa light sleep. Her
dreams were of noisy frolic, and when she awoke the noise
was still there. Quick steps sounded on the stairs, the street
door was thrown open, doors slammed, coaches rumbled,
and horses’ hoofs scraped the cobblestones.
There he is! she thought, sprang up, caught the large
quilt, and wrapping it round her, ran through the rooms.
In the large parlor she stopped. A tallow dip was burning in
a wooden candlestick on the floor, and a few of the tapers
had been lit in the sconces, but the servant in his flurry had
run away in the midst of his preparations. Some one was
speaking outside. It was Ulrik Frederik’s voice, and she
trembled with emotion.
The door was opened, and he rushed in, still wearing his
hat and cloak. He would have caught her in his arms, but
got only her hand, as she darted back. He looked so strange
in his unfamiliar garb. He was tanned and stouter than of
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