cordt entered, dressed to go out, and hurriedly crossed the room.

fru adelheid sat writing. she looked up, as he came in, and went on writing.

“where is finn?”

“upstairs, i suppose ... in his room,” she answered, without looking at him.

he stood at the window for a moment. then he flung himself into a chair and got up again and stood by the table at which she was sitting:

“have you been with him to-day?”

“no.”

she closed her blotting-book and turned her chair so that her face was in shadow. then she said:

“finn is too much alone.”

[280]“yes.”

he nodded and said yes again; then stood with his head bowed deep in thought.

“it is so quiet here,” said fru adelheid. “you are not happy and finn notices it. and hans is away....”

“yes ... yes....”

she crossed her arms over her breast and sat silent and looked at the tip of her foot.

“adelheid....”

cordt drew himself erect:

“we will fill the house with gayety,” he said. “we will go and pay visits to-morrow morning ... you and finn and i ... to old friends and new. we will have young and cheerful people here and pretty women and clever men ... lights and music.”

she looked up at him. he smiled and put his hand on her shoulder.

[281]“yes,” she said.

cordt talked about it a little and then went out hurriedly.

fru adelheid remained sitting long. the room grew dark. the lamps before the gateway were lit and their flickering gleams danced on the ceiling. the fire in the hearth smouldered under the ashes. where she sat, no light fell; her white dress shone faintly through the gloom.

she thought of cordt’s smile ... he had said that to her much as though he were asking one of the people in the office to take pains in a difficult matter.

she thought of finn, who looked at her with such strange eyes, as though the relations between him and his mother had changed and he could not understand it.

she thought of herself. she felt like a tree in autumn, when the leaves fall ... a tree that had always thought itself[282] green and beautiful until now, when it saw its glory flutter before the wind.

and, day after day and every hour of the day, she rebuilt it all as it might have been.

she built up the temple of the old room again and locked the door with seven seals. she put time back and sat with her little boy in her lap and resented old marie’s undressing him and singing him to sleep. she put time forward and celebrated the day when finn should lead his wife into the secret chamber of the house and tell her all about it, in all its beauty and solemnity, and write his name and hers on the yellow document.

fru adelheid smiled sadly.

she thought she was like the man who had put the celestial globe up there in the old room ... the man whose intellect was obscured and who sat and played with the stars until he died.

[283]but her thoughts always went the same way, while the darkness fell ever closer about cordt’s house.

she wondered, would it be any use now, if the house were filled with lights and gayety? or would the darkness lurk in every gloomy corner and spring forth when the feast was over and for ever hide the three who moved about the house, each his own way, anxiously and alone?

she did not know. but she always thought of it. and there was nothing tempestuous in her hope and in her fear and in her regret.

fru adelheid was calm now, always.