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ask you to set me free. Dearest girl, release me from my
word!”
Sofie had risen and stood cold and unflinching like a
statue, eyeing him gravely, as he spoke.
“I am with child,” she said quietly and firmly.
If she had consented, if she had given him his freedom,
Ulrik Frederik felt that he would not have taken it.
He would have thrown himself at her feet. Sure of her,
he would have defied the King and all. But she did not.
She but pulled his chain to show him how securely he was
bound. Oh, she was clever as they said! His blood boiled,
he could have fallen upon her, clutched her white throat
to drag the truth out of her and force her to open every
petal and lay bare every shadow and fold in the rose of her
love, that he might know the truth at last! But he
mastered himself and said with a smile: “Yes,of course, I
know—’t was nothing but a jest, you understand.”
Sofie looked at him uneasily. No, it had not been a jest.
If it had been, why did he not come close to her and kiss
her? Why did he stand there in the shadow? If she could
only see his eyes! No, it was no jest. He had asked as
seriously as she had answered. Ah, that answer! She began
to see what she had lost by it. If she had only said yes, he
would never have left her! “Oh, Ulrik Frederik,” she said,
“I was but thinking of our child, but if you no longer love
me, then go, go at once and build your own happiness! I
will not hold you back.”
“Did I not tell you that’t was but a jest ? How can you
think that I would ask you to release me from my word and
sneak off in base shame and dishonor! Whenever I lifted
my head again,” he went on, “I must fear lest the eye that
had seen my ignominy should meet mine and force it to the
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