Chapter IV: Part III

About an hour before luncheon I stole away into the wood to wait for Jette, and it was with a beating heart I listened for any approaching footsteps; had I not kissed her, I should have felt easier in my own mind. Ought I now to confess to her the impositions of which I had been guilty? Perhaps it would be better to do so ... But the kiss ... would she forgive that?

I discerned her white dress a good way off, and I almost felt inclined to hide myself, and let her take the trouble of finding me; but again I bethought me that it was not the part of the cavalier to be shamefaced in a secret assignation. I therefore went forward to meet her. As soon as she caught a glimpse of me, she stopped, and suddenly changed colour. The poor girl--how sorry I was for her! She could not utter one word. I led her to a rural seat near.

'Cousin,' at length she said, 'it must doubtless surprise you, and naturally so too, that I should in such a secret manner have requested an interview with you. If you could conceive how painful this moment is to me, I am sure you would compassionate me.'

'My dear young lady, I owe you an explanation, and I thank you for having given me an opportunity ...'

'Dear cousin, be not offended with me--do not speak to me in that distant and ceremonious manner--it makes the step more painful which I am about to take, and which cannot be longer delayed. It is I who owe you an explanation--alas! an explanation that will deprive me of your esteem and your friendship. I am very unhappy.'

'Do not weep so, dear cousin; you cannot imagine how it grieves me to see you so miserable. Believe me, I have your happiness sincerely at heart. You little know what delight it would give me if I were able to say to myself that I had contributed to it.'

The double signification which my words might bear drew forth more tears. Jette cried, without making any reply.

'There is comfort for every affliction,' I continued. 'God has mercifully placed the antidote alongside of the poisonous plant. Tell me, at least, what distresses you--let me at least endeavour to console you, even if I cannot assist you, and do not doubt my good will, though my power may be but limited.'

'For Heaven's sake, Carl, do not speak so kindly to me,' cried Jette, with some impetuosity. 'Do not speak thus--I have not deserved it. If you would be compassionate, say that you hate me--that you abhor me.'

'And if I said so, I should only deceive you. No, Jette, my complaisance cannot go so far.'

'You would hate me--you would despise me!' she exclaimed, sobbing, 'if you only knew ... oh! I shall never be able to tell ... if you only knew ... how unfortunate I am ... how I ...'

'Dear Jette,' said I, in some agitation, 'you have come to enter into an explanation with me; allow me to assist your confession, and help to lighten the burden which weighs so heavily on your heart. You have come, I know, to break off with me.'

'_You know!_' she exclaimed, in consternation. And she seemed as if she were going to faint. 'Take pity on me, Carl; leave me for a few minutes; I dare not look you in the face.'

She buried her own face in her pocket-handkerchief, and wept bitterly. I kissed her hand, and left her.

Very much out of spirits myself, I wandered to and fro under the trees.

'How is all this to end?' said I to myself; 'the poor girl will fret herself to death if she cannot have her Gustav, and get rid of her cousin. Gustav is a fine fellow, and a very good match; even the father allows that. The cousin must be an idiot to let himself be betrothed by his father's orders to a girl he knows nothing about--and a tiresome one too, according to what is reported of him. Jette is a girl with a great deal of feeling--but he must be a clod with none; he can't care in the least for her, or he would have been here long ere this. He shall not have her. What, if I were to advise them to run away an hour or two before I take myself off? or, suppose we were all three to elope together? Nonsense! How can I think of such folly? Poor girl! it would melt a heart of stone to see her crying there. What if I were to stay and play the cousin a little longer--formally renounce her hand--give her up to Gustav? I should like to act such a magnanimous part ... and when it was all well over, and the real cousin arrived, to let him find that he had come on a fool's errand, and go back to nurse his cold ... or, it might be better to drop him a line by the post to save a scene? I'll do it. By Jove! I'll do it! The god of love himself must have sent me here; no man in the wide world could do the thing better than myself. But what right have I to decide thus the fate of another man--a man whom I have never even beheld? Right! It is time to talk about _right_, forsooth, after I have been doing nothing but wrong for thirty-six hours. No, no, let conscience stand to one side, for the present at least; it has no business in this affair. I have acted most unwarrantably, I know, but I will make up for my misdeeds by one good deed--one blessing will I take with me; and when I am gone, two happy persons at least will remember me kindly, and Hanne will be less harsh in her judgment of my conduct, since it will have brought about her sister's happiness. Let me set my shoulders to the wheel--there is no time to lose. No, they shall not all execrate me.'

Jette was still sitting on the bench where I had left her. I placed myself beside her, and tried to reassure her.

'I said I owed you some explanation; allow me in a few words to tell you all you wish to communicate. You do not care for me--you love Gustav Holm--you will be wretched if you cannot find some good pretext for breaking off the match with me--you have many reasons to love him, none to love me--you want to let me know how the matter stands, and to give me a basket,[4] but to do it in so amicable a manner, that you hope I will accept it quietly like a good Christian, and not make too much fuss about it. All this is what you would have told me sooner or later. Am I not right, Jette? or is there more you would have entrusted to me?'

She hid her face with her hands.

'My window was partly open the other night,' I added. 'I overheard your conversation with Gustav Holm, and I knew immediately, of course, what I had to expect. You will believe, I hope, that I have sufficient feeling not to wish to force myself upon one who cannot care for me. Forgive me that I have caused you any uneasiness; it was against my own will. I would much rather have convinced you sooner that you have no enemy in me, but, on the contrary, a sincere friend.'

'Dearest, best Carl! Noblest of men! You restore me to freedom--you restore me to life! The Almighty has heard my prayers! You do not know how earnestly I have prayed that you might find me detestable.'

'Therein your prayers have not been heard, Jette,' said I. 'If you could have loved me, I could not have wished a better fate. I love you and Hanne much more than you think.' I felt that every word I had just spoken was positive truth. Jette wrung my hand.

'You have removed a mountain from my heart,' she replied. 'Would that I could thank you as you deserve!'

I was quite ashamed of all the thanks she poured out, and all the gratitude she expressed. It is an unspeakable pleasure to promote the happiness of one's fellow-creatures; it is an agreeable feeling which I would not exchange for any other.

When the first burst of joy was over, Jette consulted with me how it would be best to break the matter to her father. I told her of his good opinion of Gustav, and built upon it the brightest hopes.

Jette shook her head. 'He will insist that I shall keep my promise,' said she, mournfully. 'He will not relinquish a plan which he has cherished for so many years. How dreadful it is for me to disappoint him!'

'Very well, take me.'

'Oh! do not jest with me, dear Carl. My only dependence is on you.'

'I shall take my departure immediately, and leave a letter renouncing my engagement to you. That will go far to help you.'

'For Heaven's sake, stay! You are the only one who can speak to him,' said she. 'You have already acquired much influence over him.'

'Then let us proceed at once to the _eclaircissement_. I shall tell him that I have discovered that your heart belongs to Gustav Holm, not to me; and that I cannot accept any woman's hand unless her heart accompanies it.'

'Oh! what a terrible moment it will be when that is said! I tremble at the very idea of it. You do not know what he can be when his anger is thoroughly roused.'

'Then would you prefer to elope with Gustav? Like a loyal cousin, I will assist you in your escape.'

'That would enrage him still more; he has always been so kind and gentle to me.'

'I wish we had Gustav here, that something might be determined on. These anticipated terrible moments are never so dreadful in reality as in expectation; you have had a proof of this in the one you have just gone through.'

'Gustav will be here soon; he knows that I had requested this private conversation with you ... he will meet me here in the wood ... he will come when--when....' She stopped, and blushed deeply.

'He will come when I am gone,' I said, laughing. 'That was very sensibly arranged, but the arrangement must be annulled nevertheless, and he must make the effort of showing himself while I am here. I dare say he is not many miles off--perhaps within hail. Mr. Holm! Mr. Holm!' I roared at the top of my voice. 'He knows my manner of inviting him, and you will see that he will speedily present himself. Good morning, Mr. Holm!' I added.

'For God's sake do not shout so loudly, you will be overheard,' said Jette. 'Oh! how will all this end?'

'Uncommonly well,' thought I. 'Here comes the lover.'

Gustav came, almost rushing up; his countenance and manner expressed what was passing in his mind, namely, uncertainty whether he was to look on me as a friend or a foe.

'Gustav--Carl!...' exclaimed Jette, sinking back on the bench. She found it impossible to command her voice; but her eyes, which dwelt with affection on us both, filled up the pause, and expressed what words would not.

I took his hand and led him up to Jette. He knelt at her feet, she threw her arms round his neck, while I bent over them, and beheld my work with sincere satisfaction. There was a rustling in the bushes, and Hanne and her father stood suddenly before us! The lovers did not observe them, although I did my utmost by signs to rouse their attention.

'What the devil is all this?' exclaimed the Justitsraad, in a voice of thunder. 'What does this mean? Carl, what are you doing?'

'I am bestowing my cousinly benediction and full absolution and remission of sins, as you ought to do, my worthy uncle,' I replied, as cheerfully as I possibly could. It was necessary to appear to keep up one's courage. Gustav rose hastily, and Jette threw herself into her sister's arms.

'My dear sir!' said Gustav, imploringly.

'Mr. Holm!' cried the Justitsraad, drawing himself up.

'Dear uncle!' I exclaimed, interrupting them both, 'allow me to speak. Gustav adores Jette, and she returns his love. There can be no more question about me; I am her cousin, and nothing either more or less. I am not such an idiot as to wish to force a woman to be my wife whose heart is given to another. I have dissolved the engagement between Jette and myself, deliberately, and after due reflection. I _could_ not make her happy, and I _will not_ make her unhappy. There stands the bridegroom, who only awaits your blessing. Give it, dear uncle, and let this day become the happiest of my life, for it is the first time I ever had an opportunity of doing good.'

'Heavens and earth! a pretty piece of work, indeed!' The Justitsraad was as blustering as a German, and would on no account allow himself to hear reason. A great deal of his anger was naturally directed against me. I tried to smooth matters down. Jette wept and sobbed. It was a hundred to one against us. 'I shall write to your father this very day,' he said, at length; 'he only can absolve me from my vow; but that he will not do--that he certainly will not do on any account. This marriage has been his greatest wish, for I do not know how many years, as well as mine.'

'But he will be obliged to do it,' said I; 'this very afternoon I shall take my departure, and you shall never hear of me more. My father's power over me by no means extends so far as you seem to fancy. I will not make Jette miserable, merely to indulge his whims. Dear uncle, let me persuade you to believe that your contract is null and void: give your blessing to Gustav and Jette, and leave me to settle the matter with my father. Feelings cannot be forced. Jette does not care for me, and you ought not, in this affair, to be less liberal than I am.'

'Liberal--liberal indeed! He is always prating about such folly,' exclaimed the Justitsraad, in a rage. 'It is that abominable Berlin liberality that has entirely ruined him.'

Berlin liberality! It was the first time I had ever heard _that_ bewailed. But what absurd things do people not stumble upon when they are angry, and speak without reflection.

'Well, it was Berlin that ruined me, according to my uncle, and so utterly ruined me ... that I am betrothed in Berlin, and cannot be betrothed again. It is against the law both here and in Prussia to have two wives.'

This was an inspiration prompted by the exigency of the occasion; what did one untruth more or less signify? I was a Jesuit at that moment, and excused myself with Loyola's doctrine--that the motive sanctifies the means.

'Betrothed!' exclaimed the Justitsraad--'betrothed in Berlin! Make a fool of me! Hark ye, Carl ...'

'Betrothed!' interrupted Hanne. 'Upon my word, you are a fine fellow, cousin. That is the reason he does not wear Jette's betrothal-ring. And I to be standing here admiring his magnanimity!'

Jette silently held out her hand to me from one side, Gustav from the other; these were well-meant congratulations.

'Yes, betrothed,' I continued. 'Abuse me at your will, hate me, curse me, say and do what you please, but betrothed I am, and betrothed I must remain.'

This was a settler. The wrath of the Justitsraad cooled by degrees; that really kind-hearted man could not withstand so many anxious looks and earnest prayers; and fear of all the gossip and ridicule to which his holding out longer under the circumstances might give rise, also had effect upon him.

'You are a sad scapegrace, Carl,' he said, 'and Jette may be thankful she is not to have you for her husband; but she shall not be left in the lurch on account of your foolish freaks.' He took her hand and placed it in Gustav's, saying, 'You must make up to me for the failure of those hopes which I have cherished through so many years. But,' he added, with a sigh, 'what will my brother say when he hears this history?'

Jette cast herself upon his neck; she almost fainted in his arms; the rest of us surrounded him. There was no end to embraces and thanks.

'And now let us hasten to my mother,' said Hanne; 'the revolution shall end there. I would not be in your place, cousin, for any money; you will be soundly rated.'

'You shall be my advocate, Hanne, and shall defend my case; it is only under your protection that I dare appear before my aunt. Take me under your wing--I positively will not leave you.'

I slipped my arm round her waist, and I think, if I remember aright, I was going to kiss her.

'Hands off, Mr. Cousin! Now that you are not to be my brother-in-law you must not make so free. Remember your intended in Berlin.'

Alas! to help others I had injured myself. Hanne, her father, and I walked on first, the lovers followed us a little way behind. As we came along we met some of the peasantry on the estate going to their work.

'Hollo! good people!' cried I to them, 'this evening we must be all merry, and drink your master's good health, and dance on Miss Jette's betrothal-day. Hurrah for Miss Jette and Mr. Holm!'

'Hurrah!' cried the people. And the declaration was made.

'Be quiet, you good-for-nothing!' cried the Justitsraad, 'and don't turn everything topsy-turvy in a place that does not belong to you. A feast, forsooth--drink my health, indeed! It is easy for you to be generous at another's man's expense. I declare the fellow is determined to take the whip-hand of us all.'

My aunt heard the noise, and came out on the steps to ask what was the matter. I crept behind Hanne and hid myself.

'A complete revolution, my dear, which that precious fellow Carl has brought about. When the luncheon-bell had rung for some time in vain, without their making their appearance, Hanne and I went to look for Jette and Carl in the wood; I expected to have found him at Jette's feet; but instead of him there lay another, and he was actually busying himself in making up a match between them. Truly, it is an edifying story. Come in, and I will tell you all about it, and you will see to what purpose he has travelled. He has betrothed himself in Berlin, fancy--and very probably in Hamburg, in Paris, in Vienna, wherever he may have been. He is a fine fellow! A pretty viper we were nourishing in our hearts!'

My aunt was easily reconciled to the course of events, and she gave the young couple her maternal blessing. But it was me whom they all wanted for a son-in-law and a brother-in-law. It was very flattering to be such a favourite; however, as I was not to be had, they received Gustav (for whom they had a great regard) with open arms. We all became as sprightly as a parcel of children, and I would have been very happy had not the many affectionate good wishes for the future welfare of myself and my unknown _fiancee_ in Berlin fallen like burning drops of molten lead on my soul, and had I not had constantly before me the remembrance that I must soon leave this pleasant circle, and for ever! My proposition to spend that day entirely by ourselves was agreed to, and orders were given to admit no visitors.

'Let me but live this day undisturbed to the end,' thought I, 'and I shall demand nothing more from Fortune, which has hitherto been so kind to me.' It was a day, the like of which I have never spent. You will, perhaps, think it strange, dear reader, that my conscience should be so much at ease; but I must frankly confess that the good action I had accomplished, and the happiness I had bestowed, had entirely had the effect of quieting that internal monitor. Jette was right when she said that I had already obtained some influence over her father; for I can positively assert that my sudden and public announcement of the state of affairs had been taken in good part. I was all activity and excitement; and my exuberant mirth, which was almost without bounds, did not permit a serious word, scarcely a serious thought. I obliged them all to exert themselves, and fly about in order to make preparations for a little dance in a round summer-house at one end of the garden: the Justitsraad had to send to the village for two fiddlers; his wife had to give out sheets and curtains to make hangings for the walls; the young ladies wove garlands; Gustav and I manufactured chandeliers out of barrel-hoops and vegetables. Everybody was set to work, and before the evening the prettiest little ball-room that could be was arranged; and the people on the estate declared they had never seen anything so splendid before; 'but, to be sure, there had never been a betrothal feast in the family before.'

'You are a clever fellow, Carl,' said the Justitsraad; 'you have got this up so prettily and so well, that one might almost give a real ball. Were it not that I should have my wife and children up in arms against me, I really fancy I should like a dance. But there would be too many difficulties in the way.'

Hanne flew up to her father, and hugged him in her joy; he was taken at his word, and nothing else was talked of but the ball, which in the course of eight days was to be given to celebrate Jette's betrothal.

'We will set about writing the invitations at once,' said Hanne; 'there is an hour or more yet before the people are to begin to dance, and we have nothing to do. Let us fetch pen, ink, and paper; I will dictate, and Carl shall write; it will be done directly, almost, and early to-morrow morning we shall send off the invitations. So, all the difficulties are overcome. Now, cousin, mend your pen; you write a good hand,' said Hanne.

'Write! No, that I won't,' thought I. 'I shall take good care not to betray myself by that.'

'Gustav can write what you want; I have hurt my hand,' said I, looking round; but Gustav and Jette had both disappeared.

'How? Let me see,' said Hanne. 'It is not true. Gustav and Jette have gone into the garden; we must let them alone; so you shall come, and you may as well do it at once.'

'But I have really hurt my finger, Hanne; it is extremely painful. I shall not be able to make the most wretched pothooks--my finger is quite swollen.'

'Or rather you are extremely lazy, and won't take the trouble,' said Hanne. 'But at least you shall help me to write a list of the people to be invited, before I forget half of them; I have got them all in my head just now, and your pothooks are good enough for that. Begin now! Put down first our neighbours who were here yesterday. Kammerraad[5] Tvede, with his wife, his two daughters, his son, and the tutor. Have you got them down?' Hanne looked over my shoulder at the paper. 'But what in the world stands there?' she asked.

'Kammerraad Tvede, with his wife, his two daughters, his son, and the tutor,' I replied. 'These are Greek characters, Hanne; I can write nothing but Greek with this finger.'

'But I can't read Greek, you refractory monster!' cried Hanne, dolefully.

'You must learn it, then, Hanne. Task for task; if you force me to write the list, I will force you to read Greek.'

'That's right, my boy!' exclaimed the Justitsraad, laughing heartily. 'If one gives the girls an inch, they are sure to take an ell; they would take the command of us altogether, if they could.'

After a great deal of joking and foolery, we accomplished making out the list, and the last name given was that of my good uncle, the worthy pastor, whom it was my purpose to visit, and whose guest I would be before the sun rose on the following day.

'Do you know him, too?' I asked, with a feeling of mingled surprise and annoyance.

'He confirmed both Jette and me,' said Hanne; 'he is an excellent man, therefore I kept him to the last. You can hardly imagine how much we are all attached to him. If ever I marry, he shall perform the ceremony, I think you must remember him; at least, you saw him in this house more than once when you were here as a child.'

'Very true. I think I recollect him; he is a tall, old man, with a hooked nose. Yes, I remember him distinctly.'

This time, at least, I had no need to help myself out with lies! In a situation such as mine, one seizes with avidity every opportunity to speak truth; it is so very refreshing when one is up to the ears in untruth.

Our chandeliers answered their purpose exceedingly well: the fiddlers scraped loudly and merrily, and the floor shook under the powerful springs and somewhat weighty footing of the country swains and damsels who were dancing in honour of Miss Jette's betrothal. I had taken a turn in the waltz with each of the village belles, and danced that furious _Fangedands_ with Hanne--a dance that one must have seen the peasantry execute, in order to form an idea how violent it is. Glee and good-humour reigned around, and even the Justitsraad entered heartily into the joyous spirit which seemed to prevail. And, although from time to time, he whispered to me, 'I ought to be very angry at you--you have played me a pretty trick,' yet he was not in the slightest degree angry; on the contrary, he submitted with an extremely good grace to what he could not help. But I--I who had been the originator and cause of all this gaiety and gladness--I felt only profound melancholy, and stole away to indulge in it amidst the most lonely walks of the garden, or in the wood beyond. The hour of my departure was drawing rapidly near.

Perhaps you may imagine, dear reader, that it would be impossible for me to be sad or serious. Could you have beheld me wandering about the grounds alone, that September evening, when every one else was dancing, you would have found that you were mistaken in your opinion of me. I ascended the sloping hill, on which stands Hanne's favourite swing. By day the view from thence is beautiful; and even at night it is a place not to be despised. The garden, stretching out darkly immediately beneath, looked like an impenetrable wood. The moon was in its first quarter, and therefore shed but a faint uncertain light over objects at a little distance, while its trembling rays fell more brightly on the far-off waves of the Baltic Sea, making them appear nearer than they really were. On the right, the walls and chimneys of the dwelling-house gleamed through the openings of the trees; on the left, light blazed from the illuminated summer-house, whence came the sound of a hundred feet, tramping in time to the overpowered music. All else was as still around me as it generally is in the evening in the country, where the occasional bark of some distant dog, with its echo resounding from the wood, is the only sign of life. Behind me lay the pretty grove; and above my head stood the swing, on one of whose tall supporters my name was fastened in derision.

Had you seen how carefully I detached the piece of paper from the wood, and placing myself in the swing where I had sat with Hanne, allowed myself to rock gently backwards and forwards, while I gazed on the strange name that had become dearer to me than my own, because _she_ had pronounced it and written it, you would have perceived that I also could have my sad and serious moments. But people of my temperament seek to avoid observation when a fit of blue-devils seizes them, and only go forth among their fellow-beings when the fit has subsided.

Jette and Gustav took me by surprise. They had passed in silence through the garden, and arm-in-arm they had as silently ascended the little eminence.

'What, you here! in solitude, and so serious, dear cousin?' said Jette; 'you look quite out of spirits. Everyone connected with me should be happy on this my betrothal day, and I must reckon you among the nearest of those--you, whom I have to thank for my happiness. Come and take a share in the joy you have created; if I did not know better, I might be inclined to fancy that you are grieving over the irreparable loss you have had in me: you really do assume such a miserable countenance.'

'Do not ridicule me, Jette; I have perhaps just lost more than I can ever be compensated for.'

'It is well that a certain person in Berlin cannot overhear what politeness induces you to say in Zealand,' replied Jette. 'But a truce to compliments at present, they only cast a shade of doubt over your truthfulness: keep them for those who know less of your affairs than I do, and let us speak honestly to each other. In reality, you are glad not to become more nearly connected with us than you are already: you cannot deny that.'

'Do you think so? And if that were far from the fact?--if, on the contrary, that were the cause of my melancholy--the knowledge of the impossibility of my being so--what would you say?'

'I should be under the necessity of pitying you very much, poor fellow!' said Jette, laughing. 'But who would have thought that this morning?'

'You may indeed pity me, Jette, for when I leave this place my heart and my thoughts will remain behind, with you--with all your dear family; and I must leave you soon.'

'Soon! Are you going abroad again?' asked Gustav.

'Two days after your arrival among us!' exclaimed Jette; 'no, no, we cannot agree to that.'

'And yet it must be,' I said. 'I shall be gone, perhaps, sooner than you think. I have my own peculiar manner of coming and going, and ...'

'But what whim is this, Carl?' asked Jette, interrupting me. 'Did you not come to spend some time with us? You may depend on it my father will not hear of your going, though our wishes and requests may have no influence over you.'

'I am compelled to go, dear Jette; I must leave you for some time. Perhaps we shall meet again ... but should that be impossible, I shall write you, if you will permit me. And when I am gone, will you take my part, if I should be made the subject of animadversion? Let me hope, dear Jette, that you and Gustav will think kindly of me, and that on the anniversary of this day you will not forget me when you stroll together through that wood which was this morning the scene of my dismissal.'

They both shook hands with me.

'But Carl, I hardly understand you,' said Jette; 'you are so grave, so strange; you speak as if we were about to part for ever. Have you any idea of settling in Berlin?'

'I beseech you, Jette, speak not of Berlin--that was a subterfuge, a story, which came suddenly into my mind; I could not pitch upon any better excuse wherewith to upset your father's plan in a hurry, or I would not have lied against myself. I assure you I have never put my foot in Berlin, nor am I betrothed to anyone.'

Jette stepped back a few paces, and fixed on me a look of surprise and earnest inquiry.

'What!' she exclaimed, 'you have never been at Berlin? You have told what is not true about yourself to help me? You are not engaged?'

'No; as certainly as that I stand at this moment in your presence, I am not engaged, and have never attempted to become so. I have only put myself in the way of receiving one refusal in my life,' I added, smiling, as Jette began to look suspiciously at me, 'and that was this morning in yonder wood. Were it not superfluous, I could with ease give you the most minute particulars.'

There was a short silence; then Jette exclaimed,

'You are a noble creature, Carl; may God reward you, for I cannot. But day and night I will pray for your welfare.' She was much affected, her voice faltered. Gustav shook my hand cordially.

'My dear friends,' said I, 'do not accord to me more praise than I deserve, for the higher one is praised the greater is the fall when opinions change. Hear me before you promise to pray for me, and let me tell you how ... but no, no, let me keep silence--let me say nothing. Pardon my seeming caprice. Promise me that you will be my sincere and unshaken friends, and let us go and dance again. May I have the honour of engaging the bride for the next waltz?'

I had been on the point of confessing all my foolish pranks, and how I was imposing on them; but false shame prevented me. Was it better or not? I scarcely knew myself. I begged them to accompany me back to the summer-house. In the alley of pine-trees which led to it we met Hanne, who, according to her own account, was looking about for us; she almost ran against us before she perceived us.

'But, good Heavens I have you all become deaf? I have been calling you over and over, without receiving the slightest answer, and now I find you gliding about in deep silence, like ghosts, scaring people's lives out of them. I suppose Carl has been amusing himself, as usual, with mischief, and has been haunting you two poor lovers, and disturbing you. Do you not know, Carl, that you have no sort of business to be--in short, are quite an incumbrance where Jette and Holm are? Now answer me--do you know this, or do you not, Carl?'

'No,' I replied, shortly.

'"_No!_" Is that a fitting answer to a lady? Be so good as to reply politely. I must take upon myself to teach you good manners before you go abroad again, else we shall have reason to be ashamed of you.'

And then she began to hum the song of 'Die Wiener in Berlin:'

'In Berlin, sagt er,
Musz du fein, sagt er,
Und gescheut, sagt er,
Immer sein, sagt er....'

'I wish Berlin were at the devil, Hanne!' I exclaimed, interrupting her; 'that is my most earnest desire, believe me.'

'A very Christian wish, and expressed in choicely elegant phraseology, everyone must admit.'

'Only think, Hanne, he has _never_ been at Berlin, and is _not_ betrothed there. Carl only made these assertions because he could think of no other way of making my father agree to our wishes,' said Jette, almost crying.

'What! he is not engaged? He has never been in Berlin? Well! he is the greatest story-teller I ever met. Did he not stand up, and make positive declarations of these events, with the most cool audacity? It is too bad. Lying is the worst of all faults--it is the root of all evil.'

'No, my little Hanne, idleness is the root of all evil.'

'I dare say you abound in that root too. But I don't think you can ever have studied the early lesson-books, from which all children should be instructed. I shall myself hear you your catechism to-morrow, and rehearse to you the first principles of right and wrong; so that when you leave us, you may be a little better acquainted with the doctrines of Christianity than you are at present.'

'But he leaves us to-morrow, Hanne; he has assured us of that.'

'We positively will not allow him to make his escape,' said Hanne. 'At night we shall lock him in his room, and during the day Thomas shall watch him. That boy sticks as fast as a burr,--he won't easily shake him off.'

'But suppose I were to get out by the window? You cannot well fasten that on the outside.'

'And break your neck, forsooth. No, no; that way of making your exit won't answer.'

'Oh, people can climb up much higher than my window, and descend again without breaking their necks,' said I.

Jette and Gustav coloured violently.

'Well, we can discuss that point to-morrow. This evening, at least, you will remain with us, on account of its being Jette's betrothal day. Come, give me your arm, and let us take a walk; it is charming, yonder in the garden--within the summer-house one is like to faint from the heat.'

We strolled on, two and two, in the sweet moonlight; sometimes each pair sauntering at a little distance from the other--Hanne and I chatting busily, while Gustav and Jette often walked in the silence of a happiness too new and too deep for the language of every-day life.

'Is it really true that you are going to leave us?' asked Hanne.

'It is, indeed, too true; I must quit this place.'

'Why? if I may venture to ask. But do not tell me any untruth.'

'Because I have been here too long already--because a longer residence among you all ... near you, dear Hanne, would but destroy my peace.'

'I expressly desired you not to tell me any lies. Good Heavens! is it impossible for you to speak truth two minutes together?'

'And is it impossible for you to speak seriously for two minutes together? What I have just said is the honest truth.'

'Humph! However, tell me, is it true or not true that you are engaged in Berlin? Who have you hoaxed--Jette and me, or my father and mother? I beseech you speak truth this once.'

'If any one is hoaxed, it is your father, Hanne; but at the moment I could think of nothing else to shake his determination, or I certainly should not have composed such a story, for telling which I blamed myself severely.'

'Oh, of course I believe you! To make a fool of one's own excellent uncle! It is a sin that ought to lie very heavy on your conscience, Carl. It is almost as great a sin as to make fools of one's cousins.'

'That is a sin from which I hope you will absolve me. Ah, Hanne! what has most distressed me was, that my character must have appeared dubious in your eyes. From the first moment I was wretched, because I could not tell you that it was only a pretended engagement.'

'I do not see what _I_ have to do with your being betrothed in Berlin or not. As far as I am concerned, you might be betrothed in China, if you liked.'

'Your gaiety of temper makes you take everything lightly, and yet it is you who have taught me that life has serious moments. You have transformed me, Hanne; if you could only know what an influence the first sight of you, the night I arrived here, has exercised upon my fate ...'

'Indeed! Do tell me all about it; what was the wondrous and fearful effect of the sight of me?' said Hanne, laughing.

'Dear Hanne, without intending it, you have pitched upon the right words, in calling it "wondrous and fearful." Yes, it will follow me like a heavy sentence from a judgment-seat, ever reproaching me with my thoughtlessness. Awake, and in dreams, will I implore forgiveness; I will kneel and pray for it. Look at me once more with that captivating glance which, yon evening, made me forget myself, and tell me that you will not hate me--loathe me--despise me: see, upon my knee I entreat one kind look--one kind word!'

I had actually fallen on one knee before Hanne, and had seized her hand--

'Let my hand go, you are squeezing it, so that you quite hurt me. That is not at all necessary to the part you are acting. Get up, cousin; you will have green marks on your knees, and I can't endure to see men in such an absurd, old-fashioned plight. You should be thankful that it is no longer the mode, when one is making love in earnest, to fall down on one's knees. These pastoral attitudes are very ridiculous; they savour of a shepherd's crook, and a frisky lamb with red ribbon round its neck.'

I arose quite crestfallen.

'At any rate I must allow that you promise to be a capital actor,' added Hanne. 'Next Christmas, when you come back, we shall get up some private theatricals: that will be charming! Last year we could not manage them, because we had no lover; Holm positively refused to act the part, unless I would undertake to be his sweetheart; and a play without love is like a ball without music.'

'Hanne, let us speak seriously for once. I really am going away, and shall be gone, perhaps, before you expect it; for I hate farewell scenes. It is not without emotion that I can think of leaving my amiable cousins, and God only knows if we shall ever meet again. Laugh at me if you will, I cannot forbid your doing that; but believe me when I tell you that your image will be present with me wherever I may go, and ...'

'You will travel in very good company, then,' said Hanne, interrupting me.

'Let me take the happy hope with me that I shall live in your friendly remembrance. Sink the cousin if you choose, dear Hanne; cousinship is not worth much, and let the term _friend_ supersede it. That is a voluntary tie, for which I should have to thank but your own feelings. It is as a friend that I shall think of you when I go from this dear place, and as a friend that your image will follow me throughout the world.'

'Oh, it won't be very troublesome to you,' said Hanne. 'As to me, I don't happen to be in want of cousins, still less of friends. Let me see, in what office shall I instal you? Make a confidant of you? We do not employ any in our family; I am my own confidante: assuredly I could have none safer. I shall follow in this the example of my silent sister, who never gave me the slightest hint of her love for Gustav. A counsellor? Truly, such an accomplished fibber would make a trustworthy counsellor? No, I am afraid, if you throw up the post you hold, you will find it difficult to replace it by any other.'

'Very well, let me retain it then, but not as the gift of chance. You must yourself, of your own free will, bestow on me the title of your cousin, your chosen cousin: that is a distinction of which I shall be proud.'

'And will you, then, promise to come back at Christmas, and act plays with us?'

'I promise you into the bargain a summer representation, before autumn is over,' said I. 'The Fates only know if I shall preserve the dramatic talent I now have until winter.'

I had caught a portion of Hanne 's gaiety, and my sentimental feelings, so much jeered at, shrank into the background.

'Then I will dub you my cousin of cousins; and besides, on account of your many great services and merits, I will confer on you the distinguished title of my court story-teller.'

'And on the occasion of receiving this new title, I must, as in duty bound, kiss your hand; wherefore I remove this little brown glove, which henceforth shall be placed in my helmet, in token of my vassalage to a fair lady.'

'No, stop! give up my glove, cousin--I cannot waste it upon you. It is a good new glove, without a single hole in it. Give it up, I tell you; the other will be of no use without it.'

She tried to snatch it from me, but I held it high above her head, and speedily managed to seize its fellow-glove.

'You must redeem them, Hanne; a kiss for each of the pair is what I demand; and they are well worth it, for they are really nice new gloves. I will not part with them for less.'

'I think you must be a fool, Carl, to fancy for one moment that I would kiss you to recover my own gloves. No, I will die first,' she exclaimed, in a tone of comic indignation.

In answer to her mock heroics, I apostrophized the gloves in glowing terms, finishing with--'On your smooth perfumed surface I press my burning lips. Tell your fair mistress what I dare not say to her, what I at this moment confide to you.' I kissed the gloves.

'Well, well, give me back my gloves and I will let you kiss me,' said Hanne. 'But it shall be the slightest atom of a kiss, such as they give in the Christmas games, the most economical possible; it must not be worth more than four marks, for that was the price of the gloves. Now, are you not ashamed to take a kiss valued so low?'

'No, I will take it. But the value I put upon it is very different, for the slightest kiss from your lips, Hanne, is worth at least a million. You will make me a _millionnaire_, Hanne.'

I gave her the gloves, and was just on the point of kissing her, when the voice of the Justitsraad broke on the silence around, calling, 'Jette, Hanne, Carl, hollo! where are you all?'

'Here,' cried Hanne, bursting away from me. 'We are coming.'

'But dearest, dearest Hanne! my kiss--my million?'

'We will see about it to-morrow; you must give me credit this evening.'

'My dearest Hanne, to-morrow will be too late; for Heaven's sake, have compassion on me! I am going away to-night; there is no to-morrow for me here. Give me but half the million now--but the quarter--but the four marks' worth which you owe me! Dear Hanne, pay me but the smallest mite of my promised treasure.'

'Nonsense! we must make the best of our way home, or we shall be well scolded.'

Gustav and Jette joined us at that moment. The gloves and the kiss were for ever lost!

'Why, children, what has become of you, all this time?' exclaimed the Justitsraad. 'Come in now, and have a country-dance with the good folks before we leave them and go to have some mulled claret. Stop, stop, Carl, you can't dance with Hanne; she is engaged to one of the young farmers. You must take another partner. There is poor Annie, the lame milkmaid, she has scarcely danced at all; it is a sin that she is to sit all the evening, because one leg is a little shorter than the other. Go, dance with her.'

'Don't turn the poor girl's head with your enormous fibs,' cried Hanne to me, as I was entering the summer-house. 'Have pity on her unsophisticated heart, and do not speculate upon _a million there_; the herdsman would probably not allow it.'

'A million? The herdsman? What is all that stuff you are talking?' asked her father.

'Ill-nature--downright ill-nature, uncle.'

'Fie! cousin; that is not a chivalrous mode of speaking. But do go and foot it merrily with lame Annie, and I promise you the dance shall last at least an hour.'

The dance was over--the mulled wine was finished--the happy Gustav had gone to his home--the family had bid each other good night, and I was alone in my chamber.

'This was the last evening,' thought I to myself; 'the short dream was now over, and I had to leave that pleasant house, never more to return to it.' A deep sigh responded to these reflections. 'My deception will soon be discovered; they will revile and despise me. I shall most probably be the cause of their being exposed to the ridicule of the whole neighbourhood; that will annoy them terribly, and they will be very angry that anyone should have presumed to impose so impudently on their frank hospitality. And my kiss ... my million ... the realization of that delightful promise!... What if I were to remain yet another day--half a day--another morning even? Remain!--in order to add another link to the chain which binds me here, and which I am already almost too weak to sever? No--I will go hence. In about an hour the moon will set, and when its tell-tale light is gone I will go too. One short hour! Alas! how many melancholy hours shall I not have to endure when _that one_ has passed. It is incomprehensible to me how I became involved in all this. Chance is sometimes a miraculous guide, when we allow ourselves to be blindly led by it. But a truce to these tiresome reflections; I have no time to think of anything but Hanne, now that I am about to leave her for ever ... _For ever!_ These are two detestable words. Everything is now quite still in the house. I hear no sound but poor Pasop, rustling his chains in his kennel; he will not bark when he sees it is only I passing. They are all friendly to me here, even the very dogs; yet how false I have been to them!'

I threw my clothes and other little travelling appurtenances into my _valise_, and opened the window.

'But ought I to run away without leaving one word behind? The worthy family might be alarming themselves about me. What shall I write? I suppose I must play the cousin to the end; at any rate I must try to put them on a wrong scent. I shall address my note to Hanne, that she may see that my last thoughts were with her.'

I seized a pencil and wrote:--

'Hanne's cruelty has caused my bankruptcy and my flight. She could have made me a _millionnaire_, but she has left me a beggar. Poor and sad I quit this hospitable house, leaving behind my blessings on its much-respected and amiable inmates, including the hard-hearted fair one who has compelled me to seek a refuge at Fredericia, which, from the time of Axel, has afforded _jus asyli_ to unfortunate subjects.'

I stuck the paper in the dressing-glass, where it would speedily be observed.

I had played out my comedy, and the sober realities of life were now before me. I fell into a deep reverie, which lasted until the first dawn of day, when I started up to prepare for my departure. First, I threw my carpet-bag out of the window, and then, getting out myself upon the tree, and cautiously descending from branch to branch, I reached the ground safely and quietly. Taking a circuitous route, I at length passed the woody village near my uncle's abode; and the sun stood high in the heavens when, weary and dispirited, and out of humour with the whole world, I entered the parsonage-house.