No More Learning

It
had carved wood-work, like the Norwegian church; marble pillars,
like the Grecian temple; bells in every story; and was crowned with
cupolas, green and gilded, like those of the Kremlin of the Czar. It
was a real child's castle, and under every window was written what the
hall or the room inside was intended to be; for instance: "Here
Emily sleeps;" "Here Emily dances;" "Here Emily plays at receiving
visitors. " It was a real pleasure to look at the castle, and right
well was the castle looked at accordingly.

"Charming! " said the General.

But the old Count--for there was an old Count there, who was still
grander than the General, and had a castle of his own--said nothing at
all; he heard that it had been designed and drawn by the porter's
little son. Not that he was so very little, either, for he had already
been confirmed. The old Count looked at the pictures, and had his
own thoughts as he did so.

One day, when it was very gloomy, gray, wet weather, the brightest
of days dawned for George; for the Professor at the Academy called him
into his room.

"Listen to me, my friend," said the Professor; "I want to speak to
you. The Lord has been good to you in giving you abilities, and He has
also been good in placing you among kind people. The old Count at
the corner yonder has been speaking to me about you. I have also
seen your sketches; but we will not say any more about those, for
there is a good deal to correct in them. But from this time forward
you may come twice a-week to my drawing-class, and then you will
soon learn how to do them better. I think there's more of the
architect than of the painter in you. You will have time to think that
over; but go across to the old Count this very day, and thank God
for having sent you such a friend. "

It was a great house--the house of the old Count at the corner.
Round the windows elephants and dromedaries were carved, all from
the old times; but the old Count loved the new time best, and what
it brought, whether it came from the first floor, or from the
cellar, or from the attic.

"I think," said, the porter's wife, "the grander people are, the
fewer airs do they give themselves. How kind and straightforward the
old count is! and he talks exactly like you and me. Now, the General
and his lady can't do that. And George was fairly wild with delight
yesterday at the good reception he met with at the Count's, and so
am I to-day, after speaking to the great man. Wasn't it a good thing
that we didn't bind George apprentice to a handicraftsman? for he
has abilities of his own. "

"But they must be helped on by others," said the father.

"That help he has got now," rejoined the mother; "for the Count
spoke out quite clearly and distinctly. "

"But I fancy it began with the General," said the father, "and
we must thank them too. "

"Let us do so with all my heart," cried the mother, "though I
fancy we have not much to thank them for. I will thank the good God;
and I will thank Him, too, for letting little Emily get well. "

Emily was getting on bravely, and George got on bravely too. In
the course of the year he won the little silver prize medal of the
Academy, and afterwards he gained the great one too.


"It would have been better, after all, if he had been
apprenticed to a handicraftsman," said the porter's wife, weeping;
"for then we could have kept him with us. What is he to do in Rome?
I shall never get a sight of him again, not even if he comes back; but
that he won't do, the dear boy. "

"It is fortune and fame for him," said the father.

"Yes, thank you, my friend," said the mother; "you are saying what
you do not mean. You are just as sorrowful as I am. "

And it was all true about the sorrow and the journey. But
everybody said it was a great piece of good fortune for the young
fellow. And he had to take leave, and of the General too. The
General's lady did not show herself, for she had her bad headache.
On this occasion the General told his only anecdote, about what he had
said to the Prince, and how the Prince had said to him, "You are
incomparable. " And he held out a languid hand to George.

Emily gave George her hand too, and looked almost sorry; and
George was the most sorry of all.


Time goes by when one has something to do; and it goes by, too,
when one has nothing to do. The time is equally long, but not
equally useful. It was useful to George, and did not seem long at all,
except when he happened to be thinking of his home. How might the good
folks be getting on, up stairs and down stairs? Yes, there was writing
about that, and many things can be put into a letter--bright
sunshine and dark, heavy days. Both of these were in the letter
which brought the news that his father was dead, and that his mother
was alone now. She wrote that Emily had come down to see her, and
had been to her like an angel of comfort; and concerning herself,
she added that she had been allowed to keep her situation as
porteress.

The General's lady kept a diary, and in this diary was recorded
every ball she attended and every visit she received. The diary was
illustrated by the insertion of the visiting cards of the diplomatic
circle and of the most noble families; and the General's lady was
proud of it. The diary kept growing through a long time, and amid many
severe headaches, and through a long course of half-nights, that is to
say, of court balls. Emily had now been to a court ball for the
first time. Her mother had worn a bright red dress, with black lace,
in the Spanish style; the daughter had been attired in white, fair and
delicate; green silk ribbons fluttered like flag-leaves among her
yellow locks, and on her head she wore a wreath of water-lillies.
Her eyes were so blue and clear, her mouth was so delicate and red,
she looked like a little water spirit, as beautiful as such a spirit
can be imagined. The Princes danced with her, one after another of
course; and the General's lady had not a headache for a week
afterwards.

But the first ball was not the last, and Emily could not stand it;
it was a good thing, therefore, that summer brought with it rest,
and exercise in the open air. The family had been invited by the old
Count to visit him at him castle. That was a castle with a garden
which was worth seeing. Part of this garden was laid out quite in
the style of the old days, with stiff green hedges; you walked as if
between green walls with peep-holes in them. Box trees and yew trees
stood there trimmed into the form of stars and pyramids, and water
sprang from fountains in large grottoes lined with shells. All
around stood figures of the most beautiful stone--that could be seen
in their clothes as well as in their faces; every flower-bed had a
different shape, and represented a fish, or a coat of arms, or a
monogram. That was the French part of the garden; and from this part
the visitor came into what appeared like the green, fresh forest,
where the trees might grow as they chose, and accordingly they were
great and glorious. The grass was green, and beautiful to walk on, and
it was regularly cut, and rolled, and swept, and tended. That was
the English part of the garden.

"Old time and new time," said the Count, "here they run well
into one another. In two years the building itself will put on a
proper appearance, there will be a complete metamorphosis in beauty
and improvement. I shall show you the drawings, and I shall show you
the architect, for he is to dine here to-day. "

"Charming! " said the General.

"'Tis like Paradise here," said the General's lady, "and yonder
you have a knight's castle! "

"That's my poultry-house," observed the Count. "The pigeons live
in the tower, the turkeys in the first floor, but old Elsie rules in
the ground floor. She has apartments on all sides of her. The
sitting hens have their own room, and the hens with chickens have
theirs; and the ducks have their own particular door leading to the
water. "

"Charming! " repeated the General.

And all sailed forth to see these wonderful things. Old Elsie
stood in the room on the ground floor, and by her side stood Architect
George. He and Emily now met for the first time after several years,
and they met in the poultry-house.

Yes, there he stood, and was handsome enough to be looked at.
His face was frank and energetic; he had black shining hair, and a
smile about his mouth, which said, "I have a brownie that sits in my
ear, and knows every one of you, inside and out. " Old Elsie had pulled
off her wooden shoes, and stood there in her stockings, to do honor to
the noble guests. The hens clucked, and the cocks crowed, and the
ducks waddled to and fro, and said, "Quack, quack! " But the fair, pale
girl, the friend of his childhood, the daughter of the General,
stood there with a rosy blush on her usually pale cheeks, and her eyes
opened wide, and her mouth seemed to speak without uttering a word,
and the greeting he received from her was the most beautiful
greeting a young man can desire from a young lady, if they are not
related, or have not danced many times together, and she and the
architect had never danced together.

The Count shook hands with him, and introduced him.

"He is not altogether a stranger, our young friend George. "

The General's lady bowed to him, and the General's daughter was
very nearly giving him her hand; but she did not give it to him.

"Our little Master George! " said the General. "Old friends!
Charming! "

"You have become quite an Italian," said the General's lady,
"and I presume you speak the language like a native? "

"My wife sings the language, but she does not speak it,"
observed the General.

At dinner, George sat at the right hand of Emily, whom the General
had taken down, while the Count led in the General's lady.

Mr. George talked and told of his travels; and he could talk well,
and was the life and soul of the table, though the old Count could
have been it too. Emily sat silent, but she listened, and her eyes
gleamed, but she said nothing.

In the verandah, among the flowers, she and George stood together;
the rose-bushes concealed them. And George was speaking again, for
he took the lead now.

"Many thanks for the kind consideration you showed my old mother,"
he said. "I know that you went down to her on the night when my father
died, and you stayed with her till his eyes were closed. My
heartiest thanks! "

He took Emily's hand and kissed it--he might do so on such an
occasion. She blushed deeply, but pressed his hand, and looked at
him with her dear blue eyes.

"Your mother was a dear soul! " she said. "How fond she was of
her son! And she let me read all your letters, so that I almost
believe I know you. How kind you were to me when I was little girl!
You used to give me pictures. "

"Which you tore in two," said George.

"No, I have still your drawing of the castle. "

"I must build the castle in reality now," said George; and he
became quite warm at his own words.

The General and the General's lady talked to each other in their
room about the porter's son--how he knew how to behave, and to express
himself with the greatest propriety.

"He might be a tutor," said the General.

"Intellect! " said the General's lady; but she did not say anything
more.

During the beautiful summer-time Mr. George several times
visited the Count at his castle; and he was missed when he did not
come.

"How much the good God has given you that he has not given to us
poor mortals," said Emily to him. "Are you sure you are very
grateful for it? "

It flattered George that the lovely young girl should look up to
him, and he thought then that Emily had unusually good abilities.
And the General felt more and more convinced that George was no
cellar-child.

"His mother was a very good woman," he observed. "It is only right
I should do her that justice now she is in her grave. "


The summer passed away, and the winter came; again there was
talk about Mr. George. He was highly respected, and was received in
the first circles. The General had met him at a court ball.

And now there was a ball to be given in the General's house for
Emily, and could Mr. George be invited to it?

"He whom the King invites can be invited by the General also,"
said the General, and drew himself up till he stood quite an inch
higher than before.

Mr. George was invited, and he came; princes and counts came,
and they danced, one better than the other. But Emily could only dance
one dance--the first; for she made a false step--nothing of
consequence; but her foot hurt her, so that she had to be careful, and
leave off dancing, and look at the others. So she sat and looked on,
and the architect stood by her side.

"I suppose you are giving her the whole history of St. Peter's,"
said the General, as he passed by; and smiled, like the
personification of patronage.

With the same patronizing smile he received Mr. George a few
days afterwards. The young man came, no doubt, to return thanks for
the invitation to the ball. What else could it be? But indeed there
was something else, something very astonishing and startling. He spoke
words of sheer lunacy, so that the General could hardly believe his
own ears. It was "the height of rhodomontade," an offer, quite an
inconceivable offer--Mr. George came to ask the hand of Emily in
marriage!

"Man! " cried the General, and his brain seemed to be boiling. "I
don't understand you at all. What is it you say? What is it you
want? I don't know you. Sir! Man! What possesses you to break into
my house? And am I to stand here and listen to you? " He stepped
backwards into his bed-room, locked the door behind him, and left
Mr. George standing alone. George stood still for a few minutes, and
then turned round and left the room. Emily was standing in the
corridor.

"My father has answered? " she said, and her voice trembled.

George pressed her hand.

"He has escaped me," he replied; "but a better time will come. "

There were tears in Emily's eyes, but in the young man's eyes
shone courage and confidence; and the sun shone through the window,
and cast his beams on the pair, and gave them his blessing.

The General sat in his room, bursting hot. Yes, he was still
boiling, until he boiled over in the exclamation, "Lunacy! porter!
madness! "

Not an hour was over before the General's lady knew it out of
the General's own mouth. She called Emily, and remained alone with
her.

"You poor child," she said; "to insult you so! to insult us so!
There are tears in your eyes, too, but they become you well. You
look beautiful in tears. You look as I looked on my wedding-day.
Weep on, my sweet Emily. "

"Yes, that I must," said Emily, "if you and my father do not say
'yes. '"

"Child! " screamed the General's lady; "you are ill! You are
talking wildly, and I shall have a most terrible headache! Oh, what
a misfortune is coming upon our house! Don't make your mother die,
Emily, or you will have no mother. "

And the eyes of the General's lady were wet, for she could not
bear to think of her own death.


In the newspapers there was an announcement. "Mr. George has
been elected Professor of the Fifth Class, number Eight. "

"It's a pity that his parents are dead and cannot read it," said
the new porter people, who now lived in the cellar under the General's
apartments. They knew that the Professor had been born and grown up
within their four walls.

"Now he'll get a salary," said the man.

"Yes, that's not much for a poor child," said the woman.

"Eighteen dollars a year," said the man. "Why, it's a good deal of
money. "

"No, I mean the honor of it," replied the wife. "Do you think he
cares for the money? Those few dollars he can earn a hundred times
over, and most likely he'll get a rich wife into the bargain.
If we
had children of our own, husband, our child should be an architect and
a professor too. "

George was spoken well of in the cellar, and he was spoken well of
in the first floor. The old Count took upon himself to do that.

The pictures he had drawn in his childhood gave occasion for it.
But how did the conversation come to turn on these pictures? Why, they
had been talking of Russia and of Moscow, and thus mention was made of
the Kremlin, which little George had once drawn for Miss Emily. He had
drawn many pictures, but the Count especially remembered one, "Emily's
Castle," where she was to sleep, and to dance, and to play at
receiving guests.

"The Professor was a true man," said the Count, "and would be a
privy councillor before he died, it was not at all unlikely; and he
might build a real castle for the young lady before that time came:
why not? "

"That was a strange jest," remarked the General's lady, when the
Count had gone away. The General shook his head thoughtfully, and went
out for a ride, with his groom behind him at a proper distance, and he
sat more stiffly than ever on his high horse.

It was Emily's birthday. Flowers, books, letters, and visiting
cards came pouring in. The General's lady kissed her on the mouth, and
the General kissed her on the forehead; they were affectionate
parents, and they and Emily had to receive grand visitors, two of
the Princes. They talked of balls and theatres, of diplomatic
missions, of the government of empires and nations; and then they
spoke of talent, native talent; and so the discourse turned upon the
young architect.

"He is building up an immortality for himself," said one, "and
he will certainly build his way into one of our first families. "

"One of our first families! " repeated the General and afterwards
the General's lady; "what is meant by one of our first families? "

"I know for whom it was intended," said the General's lady, "but I
shall not say it. I don't think it. Heaven disposes, but I shall be
astonished. "

"I am astonished also! " said the General. "I haven't an idea in my
head! " And he fell into a reverie, waiting for ideas.

There is a power, a nameless power, in the possession of favor
from above, the favor of Providence, and this favor little George had.
But we are forgetting the birthday.

Emily's room was fragrant with flowers, sent by male and female
friends; on the table lay beautiful presents for greeting and
remembrance, but none could come from George--none could come from
him; but it was not necessary, for the whole house was full of
remembrances of him. Even out of the ash-bin the blossom of memory
peeped forth, for Emily had sat whimpering there on the day when the
window-curtain caught fire, and George arrived in the character of
fire engine. A glance out of the window, and the acacia tree
reminded of the days of childhood. Flowers and leaves had fallen,
but there stood the tree covered with hoar frost, looking like a
single huge branch of coral, and the moon shone clear and large
among the twigs, unchanged in its changings, as it was when George
divided his bread and butter with little Emily.

Out of a box the girl took the drawings of the Czar's palace and
of her own castle--remembrances of George. The drawings were looked
at, and many thoughts came. She remembered the day when, unobserved by
her father and mother, she had gone down to the porter's wife who
lay dying. Once again she seemed to sit beside her, holding the
dying woman's hand in hers, hearing the dying woman's last words:
"Blessing George! " The mother was thinking of her son, and now Emily
gave her own interpretation to those words. Yes, George was
certainly with her on her birthday.

It happened that the next day was another birthday in that
house, the General's birthday. He had been born the day after his
daughter, but before her of course--many years before her. Many
presents arrived, and among them came a saddle of exquisite
workmanship, a comfortable and costly saddle--one of the Princes had
just such another. Now, from whom might this saddle come? The
General was delighted. There was a little note with the saddle. Now if
the words on the note had been "many thanks for yesterday's
reception," we might easily have guessed from whom it came. But the
words were "From somebody whom the General does not know. "

"Whom in the world do I not know? " exclaimed the General. "I
know everybody;" and his thoughts wandered all through society, for he
knew everybody there. "That saddle comes from my wife! " he said at
last. "She is teasing me--charming! "

But she was not teasing him; those times were past.


Again there was a feast, but it was not in the General's house, it
was a fancy ball at the Prince's, and masks were allowed too.

The General went as Rubens, in a Spanish costume, with a little
ruff round his neck, a sword by his side, and a stately manner. The
General's lady was Madame Rubens, in black velvet made high round
the neck, exceedingly warm, and with a mill-stone round her neck in
the shape of a great ruff--accurately dressed after a Dutch picture in
the possession of the General, in which the hands were especially
admired. They were just like the hands of the General's lady.

Emily was Psyche. In white crape and lace she was like a
floating swan. She did not want wings at all. She only wore them as
emblematic of Psyche.

Brightness, splendor, light and flowers, wealth and taste appeared
at the ball; there was so much to see, that the beautiful hands of
Madame Rubens made no sensation at all.

A black domino, with an acacia blossom in his cap, danced with
Psyche.

"Who is that? " asked the General's lady.

"His Royal Highness," replied the General. "I am quite sure of it.
I knew him directly by the pressure of his hand. "

The General's lady doubted it.

General Rubens had no doubts about it. He went up to the black
domino and wrote the royal letters in the mask's hand. These were
denied, but the mask gave him a hint.

The words that came with the saddle: "One whom you do not know,
General. "

"But I do know you," said the General. "It was you who sent me the
saddle. "

The domino raised his hand, and disappeared among the other
guests.

"Who is that black domino with whom you were dancing, Emily? "
asked the General's lady.

"I did not ask his name," she replied, "because you knew it. It is
the Professor. Your protege is here, Count! " she continued, turning to
that nobleman, who stood close by. "A black domino with acacia
blossoms in his cap. "

"Very likely, my dear lady," replied the Count. "But one of the
Princes wears just the same costume. "

"I knew the pressure of the hand," said the General. "The saddle
came from the Prince. I am so certain of it that I could invite that
domino to dinner. "

"Do so. If it be the Prince he will certainly come," replied the
Count.

"And if it is the other he will not come," said the General, and
approached the black domino, who was just speaking with the King.
The General gave a very respectful invitation "that they might make
each other's acquaintance," and he smiled in his certainty
concerning the person he was inviting. He spoke loud and distinctly.

The domino raised his mask, and it was George. "Do you repeat your
invitation, General? " he asked.

The General certainly seemed to grow an inch taller, assumed a
more stately demeanor, and took two steps backward and one step
forward, as if he were dancing a minuet, and then came as much gravity
and expression into the face of the General as the General could
contrive to infuse into it; but he replied,

"I never retract my words! You are invited, Professor! " and he
bowed with a glance at the King, who must have heard the whole
dialogue.


Now, there was a company to dinner at the General's, but only
the old Count and his protege were invited.

"I have my foot under his table," thought George. "That's laying
the foundation stone. "

And the foundation stone was really laid, with great ceremony,
at the house of the General and of the General's lady.

The man had come, and had spoken quite like a person in good
society, and had made himself very agreeable, so that the General
had often to repeat his "Charming! " The General talked of this dinner,
talked of it even to a court lady; and this lady, one of the most
intellectual persons about the court, asked to be invited to meet
the Professor the next time he should come. So he had to be invited
again; and he was invited, and came, and was charming again; he
could even play chess.

"He's not out of the cellar," said the General; "he's quite a
distinguished person. There are many distinguished persons of that
kind, and it's no fault of his. "

The Professor, who was received in the King's palace, might very
well be received by the General; but that he could ever belong to
the house was out of the question, only the whole town was talking
of it.


He grew and grew. The dew of favor fell from above, so no one
was surprised after all that he should become a Privy Councillor,
and Emily a Privy Councillor's lady.

"Life is either a tragedy or a comedy," said the General. "In
tragedies they die, in comedies they marry one another. "

In this case they married. And they had three clever boys--but not
all at once.

The sweet children rode on their hobby-horses through all the
rooms when they came to see the grandparents. And the General also
rode on his stick; he rode behind them in the character of groom to
the little Privy Councillors.

And the General's lady sat on her sofa and smiled at them, even
when she had her severest headache.


So far did George get, and much further; else it had not been
worth while to tell the story of THE PORTER'S SON.




POULTRY MEG'S FAMILY

Poultry Meg was the only person who lived in the new stately
dwelling that had been built for the fowls and ducks belonging to
the manor house. It stood there where once the old knightly building
had stood with its tower, its pointed gables, its moat, and its
drawbridge. Close by it was a wilderness of trees and thicket; here
the garden had been, and had stretched out to a great lake, which
was now moorland. Crows and choughs flew screaming over the old trees,
and there were crowds of birds; they did not seem to get fewer when
any one shot among them, but seemed rather to increase. One heard
the screaming into the poultry-house, where Poultry Meg sat with the
ducklings running to and fro over her wooden shoes. She knew every
fowl and every duck from the moment it crept out of the shell; and she
was fond of her fowls and her ducks, and proud of the stately house
that had been built for them. Her own little room in the house was
clean and neat, for that was the wish of the gracious lady to whom the
house belonged. She often came in the company of grand noble guests,
to whom she showed "the hens' and ducks' barracks," as she called
the little house.

Here were a clothes cupboard, and an arm-chair, and even a
chest of drawers; and on these drawers a polished metal plate had been
placed, whereon was engraved the word "Grubbe," and this was the
name of the noble family that had lived in the house of old. The brass
plate had been found when they were digging the foundation; and the
clerk has said it had no value except in being an old relic. The clerk
knew all about the place, and about the old times, for he had his
knowledge from books, and many a memorandum had been written and put
in his table-drawer. But the oldest of the crows perhaps knew more
than he, and screamed it out in her own language; but that was the
crow's language, and the clerk did not understand that, clever as he
was.

After the hot summer days the mist sometimes hung over the
moorland as if a whole lake were behind the old trees, among which the
crows and the daws were fluttering; and thus it had looked when the
good Knight Grubbe had lived here--when the old manor house stood with
its thick red walls. The dog-chain used to reach in those days quite
over the gateway; through the tower one went into a paved passage
which led to the rooms; the windows were narrow, and the panes were
small, even in the great hall where the dancing used to be; but in the
time of the last Grubbe, there had been no dancing in the hall
within the memory of man, although an old drum still lay there that
had served as part of the music. Here stood a quaintly carved
cupboard, in which rare flower-roots were kept, for my Lady Grubbe was
fond of plants and cultivated trees and shrubs. Her husband
preferred riding out to shoot wolves and boars; and his little
daughter Marie always went with him part of the way. When she was only
five years old, she would sit proudly on her horse, and look saucily
round with her great black eyes. It was a great amusement to her to
hit out among the hunting-dogs with her whip; but her father would
rather have seen her hit among the peasant boys, who came running up
to stare at their lord.

The peasant in the clay hut close by the knightly house had a
son named Soren, of the same age as the gracious little lady. The
boy could climb well, and had always to bring her down the bird's
nests. The birds screamed as loud as they could, and one of the
greatest of them hacked him with its beak over the eye so that the
blood ran down, and it was at first thought the eye had been
destroyed; but it had not been injured after all. Marie Grubbe used to
call him her Soren, and that was a great favor, and was an advantage
to Soren's father--poor Jon, who had one day committed a fault, and
was to be punished by riding on the wooden horse. This same horse
stood in the courtyard, and had four poles for legs, and a single
narrow plant for a back; on this Jon had to ride astride, and some
heavy bricks were fastened to his feet into the bargain, that he might
not sit too comfortably. He made horrible grimaces, and Soren wept and
implored little Marie to interfere. She immediately ordered that
Soren's father should be taken down, and when they did not obey her,
she stamped on the floor, and pulled at her father's sleeve till it
was torn to pieces. She would have her way, and she got her way, and
Soren's father was taken down.

Lady Grubbe, who now came up, parted her little daughter's hair
from the child's brow, and looked at her affectionately; but Marie did
not understand why.

She wanted to go to the hounds, and not to her mother, who went
down into the garden, to the lake where the water-lily bloomed, and
the heads of bulrushes nodded amid the reeds; and she looked at all
this beauty and freshness. "How pleasant! " she said. In the garden
stood at that time a rare tree, which she herself had planted. It
was called the blood-beech--a kind of negro growing among the other
trees, so dark brown were the leaves. This tree required much
sunshine, for in continual shade it would become bright green like the
other trees, and thus lose its distinctive character. In the lofty
chestnut trees were many birds' nests, and also in the thickets and in
the grassy meadows. It seemed as though the birds knew that they
were protected here, and that no one must fire a gun at them.

Little Marie came here with Soren. He knew how to climb, as we
have already said, and eggs and fluffy-feathered young birds were
brought down. The birds, great and small, flew about in terror and
tribulation; the peewit from the fields, and the crows and daws from
the high trees, screamed and screamed; it was just such din as the
family will raise to the present day.

"What are you doing, you children? " cried the gentle lady; "that
is sinful! "

Soren stood abashed, and even the little gracious lady looked down
a little; but then he said, quite short and pretty,

"My father lets me do it! "

"Craw-craw! away-away from here! " cried the great black birds, and
they flew away; but on the following day they came back, for they were
at home here.

The quiet gentle lady did not remain long at home here on earth,
for the good God called her away; and, indeed, her home was rather
with Him than in the knightly house; and the church bells tolled
solemnly when her corpse was carried to the church, and the eyes of
the poor people were wet with tears, for she had been good to them.

When she was gone, no one attended to her plantations, and the
garden ran to waste. Grubbe the knight was a hard man, they said;
but his daughter, young as she was, knew how to manage him. He used to
laugh and let her have her way. She was now twelve years old, and
strongly built. She looked the people through and through with her
black eyes, rode her horse as bravely as a man, and could fire off her
gun like a practiced hunter.

One day there were great visitors in the neighborhood, the
grandest visitors who could come. The young King, and his half-brother
and comrade, the Lord Ulric Frederick Gyldenlowe. They wanted to
hunt the wild boar, and to pass a few days at the castle of Grubbe.

Gyldenlowe sat at table next to Marie Grubbe, and he took her by
the hand and gave her a kiss, as if she had been a relation; but she
gave him a box on the ear, and told him she could not bear him, at
which there was great laughter, as if that had been a very amusing
thing.

And perhaps it was very amusing, for, five years afterwards,
when Marie had fulfilled her seventeenth year, a messenger arrived
with a letter, in which Lord Gyldenlowe proposed for the hand of the
noble young lady. There was a thing for you!

"He is the grandest and most gallant gentleman in the whole
country," said Grubbe the knight; "that is not a thing to despise. "

"I don't care so very much about him," said Marie Grubbe; but
she did not despise the grandest man of all the country, who sat by
the king's side.

Silver plate, and fine linen and woollen, went off to Copenhagen
in a ship, while the bride made the journey by land in ten days. But
the outfit met with contrary winds, or with no winds at all, for
four months passed before it arrived; and when it came, my Lady
Gyldenlowe was gone.

"I'd rather lie on coarse sacking than lie in his silken beds,"
she declared. "I'd rather walk barefoot than drive with him in a
coach! "

Late one evening in November two women came riding into the town
of Aarhuus. They were the gracious Lady Gyldenlowe (Marie Grubbe)
and her maid. They came from the town of Weile, whither they had
come in a ship from Copenhagen. They stopped at Lord Grubbe's stone
mansion in Aarhuus. Grubbe was not well pleased with this visit. Marie
was accosted in hard words; but she had a bedroom given her, and got
her beer soup of a morning; but the evil part of her father's nature
was aroused against her, and she was not used to that. She was not
of a gentle temper, and we often answer as we are addressed. She
answered openly, and spoke with bitterness and hatred of her
husband, with whom she declared she would not live; she was too
honorable for that.

A year went by, but it did not go by pleasantly. There were evil
words between the father and the daughter, and that ought never to be.
Bad words bear bad fruit. What could be the end of such a state of
things?

"We two cannot live under the same roof," said the father one day.
"Go away from here to our old manor house; but you had better bite
your tongue off than spread any lies among the people. "

And so the two parted. She went with her maid to the old castle
where she had been born, and near which the gentle, pious lady, her
mother, was lying in the church vault. An old cowherd lived in the
courtyard, and was the only other inhabitant of the place. In the
rooms heavy black cobwebs hung down, covered with dust; in the
garden everything grew just as it would; hops and climbing plants
ran like a net between the trees and bushes, and the hemlock and
nettle grew larger and stronger. The blood-beech had been outgrown
by other trees, and now stood in the shade; and its leaves were
green like those of the common trees, and its glory had departed.
Crows and choughs, in great close masses, flew past over the tall
chestnut trees, and chattered and screamed as if they had something
very important to tell one another--as if they were saying, "Now she's
come back again, the little girl who had their eggs and their young
ones stolen from them; and as for the thief who had got them down,
he had to climb up a leafless tree, for he sat on a tall ship's
mast, and was beaten with a rope's end if he did not behave himself. "

The clerk told all this in our own times; he had collected it
and looked it up in books and memoranda. It was to be found, with many
other writings, locked up in his table-drawer.