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should show her the royal letter, and found
pleasure in the waiting.
She chatted and regaled him with innumerable
anecdotes. He laughed at her quips, and was
altogether entranced. They happened to be sitting in
one of the rooms where Mamselle Marie’s knitted
curtains were hung, and the Countess told him their
story. She made it as funny as she could, of course,
and ridiculed the old Mamselle.
“You see,” she laughed—“you see how bad I
am. These curtains now hang here that I may be
reminded of my sin every hour of the day. Was
ever such penance put upon any one! Oh, those
abominable shell-stitch curtains!”
The great warrior looked at her with flaming
eyes.
“I too am old and poor,” he said, “and I have
sat for ten years in a chimney-corner yearning for
the one I love. Does your ladyship laugh at that
also?”
“Ah, that is another matter!” exclaimed the
Countess.
“God has deprived me of both fatherland and
happiness, forcing me to eat the bread of stran-
gers,” Cousin Kristoffer continued gravely, “and I
have learned to respect poverty.”
“You too!” cried the Countess, throwing up her
hands. “Dear me, how virtuous every one is these
days!”
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