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CHAPTER XVI
After she came back to Tjele, Mistress Marie Grubbe
remained in her father’s household until sixteen
hundred and seventy-nine, when she was wedded to Palle Dyre,
counsellor of justice to his Majesty the King, and with him
she lived in a marriage that offered no shadow of an event
until sixteen hundred and eighty-nine. This period of her
life lasted from the time she was thirty till she was
forty-six—full sixteen years.
Full sixteen years of petty worries, commonplace duties,
and dull monotony, with no sense of intimacy or affection
to give warmth, no homelike comfort to throw a ray of light.
Endless brawling about nothing, noisy hectoring for the
slightest neglect, peevish fault-finding, and coarse jibes were
all that met her ears. Every sunlit day of life was coined
into dollars and shillings and pennies; every sigh uttered
was a sigh for loss; every wish, a wish for gain; every hope,
a hope of more. All around her was shabby parsimony;
in every nook and corner, busyness that chased away all
pleasure; from every hour stared the wakeful eye of greed.
Such was the existence Marie Grubbe led.
In the early days, she would sometimes forget the
hubbub and bustle all around her and sink into waking dreams
of beauty, changing as clouds, teeming as light. There was
one that came oftener than others. It was a dream of a
sleeping castle hidden behind roses. Oh, the quiet garden of that
castle, with stillness in the air and in the leaves, with silence
brooding over all like a night without darkness! There the
odors sleptin the flower-cups and the dewdrops on the
bending blades of grass. There the violet drowsed with mouth
half open under the curling leaves of the fern, while a
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