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CHAPTER XII
In January of sixteen hundred and sixty-four, Ulrik
Frederik was appointed Viceroy of Norway, and in
the beginning of April the same year, he departed for his
post. Marie Grubbe went with him.
The relation between them had not improved, except
in so far as the lack of mutual understanding and mutual
love had, as it were, been accepted by both as an
unalterable fact, and found expression in the extremely
ceremonious manner they had adopted toward each other.
For a year or more after they had moved to Aggershus,
things went on much in the same way, and Marie, for her
part, desired no change. Not so Ulrik Frederik; for he had
again become enamored of his wife.
On a winter afternoon, in the gloaming, Marie Grubbe
sat alone in the little parlor known from olden time as the
Nook. The day was cloudy and dark, with a raw, blustering
wind. Heavy flakes of melting snow were plastered into
the corners of the tiny window-panes, covering almost half
the surface of the greenish glass. Gusts of wet, chilly wind
went whirling down between the high walls, where they
seemed to lose their senses and throw themselves blindly
upon shutters and doors, rattling them fiercely, then flying
skyward again with a hoarse, dog-like whimper. Powerful
blasts came shrieking across the roofs opposite and hurled
themselves against windows and walls, pounding like waves,
then suddenly dying away. Now and again a squall would
come roaring down the chimney. The flames ducked their
frightened heads, and the white smoke, timidly curling
toward the chimney like the comb of a breaker, would
shrink back, ready to throw itself out into the room. Ah,
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