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there as quiet as death itself. He hurried to her and lifted
her in his arms.
Marie sighed, opened her eyes, and gazed straight out
before her with a lifeless expression, then, seeing Ulrik
Frederik, threw her arms around him, kissed and fondled him,
still without a word. Her smile was pleased and happy, but
a questioning fear lurked in her eyes. Her glance seemed
to seek something on the floor. She caught Ulrik
Frederik’s wrist, passed her hand over his sleeve, and when she
saw that it was torn and the cuff slashed, she shrieked with
horror.
“Then I really did it!” she cried in despair. “O God
in highest heaven, preserve my mind, I humbly beseech
Thee! But why don’t you ask questions? Why don’t you
fling me away from you like a venomous serpent? And yet,
God knows, I have no part nor fault in what I did. It
simply came over me. There was something that forced me.
I swear to you by my hope of eternal salvation, there was
something that moved my hand. Ah, you don’t believe it!
How can you?” And she wept and moaned.
But Ulrik Frederik believed her implicitly, for this fully
bore out his own thoughts. He comforted her with tender
words and caresses, though he felt a secret horror of her as
a poor helpless tool under the baleful spell of evil powers.
Nor could he get over this fear, though Marie, day after
day, used every art of a clever woman to win back his
confidence. She had indeed sworn, that first morning, that she
would make Ulrik Frederik put forth all his charms and
exercise all his patience in wooing her over again, but now
her behavior said exactly the reverse. Every look implored;
every word was a meek vow. In a thousand trifles of dress
and manner, in crafty surprises and delicate attentions, she
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