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they were instantly married and came north in a
swiftly travelling coach. “There was no time for any
banns, you see, it was quite impossible,” the young
Countess used to say; “and, of course, it wasn’t as
nice being married at the Consulate as in one of
the beautiful churches, but Henrik couldn’t possibly
get me in any other way. They are all so hasty
there—both papa and mamma and the cardinals
and monks, all of them. We were obliged to keep
it secret, and if the people had seen us leave home,
they would certainly have killed us both—just to
save my soul. Henrik’s was, of course, lost already.”
But the young Countess was fond of her husband
even when they arrived at Borg and lived a quieter
life. She loved the splendor of the old name he
bore and the fame of his adventurous forefathers.
She liked to see how her presence softened him, and
to hear his voice take another tone when she talked
to him. And besides he was fond of her and spoiled
her, and, after all, she was married to him. Theyoung
Countess could not imagine a married woman not
caring for her husband.
In a certain way he answered her ideal of
manliness. He was just and loved the truth. He had
never broken his promised word. She considered
him a true nobleman.
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