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and he sat in the stern of the boat, where he could talk with
Marie, who had the oar nearest him. He recognized her
at once, but showed no signs of surprise; perhaps he had
known that he would find her there. Marie had to look twice
before she knew him, for he was very much changed. His
face was red and bloated, his eyes were watery; his lower
jaw dropped, as if the corners of his mouth were paralyzed,
his legs were thin, and his stomach hung down,—in short,
he bore every mark of a life spent in stupefying
debauchery of every kind, and this had, as a matter of fact, been his
chief pursuit ever since he left Marie. As far as the external
events went, he had for a time been gentilhomme and maître
d’hôtel in the house of a royal cardinal in Rome, had gone
over to the Catholic Church, had joined his brother, Just
Högh, then ambassador to Nimeguen, had been converted
back to the Lutheran religion again, and returned to
Denmark, where he was living on the bounty of his brother.
“Is this,” he asked, nodding in the direction of Sören,—“is
this the one I foretold was to come after me?”
“Ay, he is the one,” said Marie, hesitating a little, for
she would have preferred not to reply.
“And he is greater than I—was?” he went on,
straightening himself in his seat.
“Nay, you can’t be likened to him, your lordship,” she
answered, affecting the speech of a peasant woman.
“Oh, ay, so it goes—you and I have indeed cheapened
ourselves—we’ve sold ourselves to life for less pay than we
had thought to, you in one manner, I in another.”
“But your lordship is surely well enough off?” asked
Marie, in the same simple tone.
“Well enough,” he laughed, “well enough is more than
half ill; I am indeed well enough off. And you, Marie?”
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