- Project Runeberg -  Life, letters, and posthumous works of Fredrika Bremer /
29

(1868) [MARC] Author: Fredrika Bremer Translator: Emily Nonnen With: Charlotte Bremer
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BIOGRAPHY. 29

and myself continued to look for her, and to call her by
name in another direction, along a path which we had
crossed before, but which she perhaps might have followed.
We soon came to more cross-roads, and having wandered
about a long while, shouting her name, my father was get-
ting fatigued, and was just on the point of returning to the
hotel, when suddenly, at the turn of the road, we saw Fre-
drika walking quietly along. As soon as she a my
father, she ran up to him, exclaiming, —

“Oh, papa, papa, I have seen Pan, the sylvan fea i?

“What do you mean by that?” asked my father.

“Why, he stands yonder,” replied Fredrika, “playing
his flute. I asked a strange gentleman, whom I met, to
tell me who it was, and he said it was the wood-god Pan.”

But Fredrika’s delight at her new acquaintance, the syl-
van god, was of very short duration ; for now followed re-
proaches and scoldings for having so thoughtlessly strayed
away from the company, who had been searching for her
more than a couple of hours. We returned to the hotel ;
the elder ladies were fatigued and not inclined for any
further walk, and we went back to town earlier than we
intended doing.

In the spring of 1813 we returned to Arsta. My father
had sold the beautiful Nynis, to my great sorrow and re-
gret. He found it too troublesome to attend to the man-
agement of two large estates. |

Shortly after our arrival at Arsta, a strange g gentleman
called upon my parents with an unexpected message. ‘The
“Sédermanland Regiment” had been ordered to embark
on board a transport at Dalaré, to proceed, in company
with several other regiments, to Germany, and this gentle-
man had received orders, I do not know from whom, to
request that the officers of the regiment might be quartered
at Arsta. My father, of course, willingly gave his consent,
and in the following week there was a great deal of stir
and bustle at Arsta, ordinarily so quiet. No less than ten

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