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BIOGRAPHY. AT
We both agreed in thinking that in his tragic parts he
was devoid of truth, and that on the contrary he exag-
gerated : and we could not understand why, the more he
made his raised arms tremble, the more the audience ap-
plauded. We went also during the winter to some grand
balls given by families whose acquaintance my parents had
made through my father’s bankers. Galleries, museums,
and collections of works of art, we visited often; and in the
spring we made excursions to Versailles, and other remark-
able places in the environs of Paris. We returned to
Sweden in the month of June, passing through the Nether-
lands and Germany, and canie back to Stockholm without
meeting with any adventures, and soon after we were once
more installed at our old Arsta.
In the beginning we were very happy to be at home
again, and to enjoy the quiet of the country; but when
autumn came, our life resumed its former course. We had
now, however, much to speak about, and many reminis-
cences from our travels to fall back upon, during our even-
ing conversations in the library. This always amused and
interested my father; but Fredrika sat generally silent, and
very rarely took part in the conversation. To her these
compulsory conversations and our inactive life were a real
torture ; she longed to get into the world ; longed for some-
thing to labor and work for; longed to distinguish herself
in any way. ‘The realization of these longings was the aim
of all her desires and endeavors, but how it was to be ac-
complished was still hidden in darkness. She had pro-
jected several plans, but she did not venture to propose
them either to my father or my mother; and every thing,
therefore, remained as it was. After tea, at six o’clock, my
father read now Schiller’s “ Maid of Orleans,’ “ Don Car-
los,” and others, and Fredrika seemed to derive new life.
While listening to these masterpieces, we were deeply in-
terested and often touched, but Fredrika was at times, as
it were, dissolved in tears. She, however, felt herself
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