"Yes," said Hansei at last, "that's true enough. When one sits by the fire, his thoughts will roam."
To Hansei's notion, nothing in the world is so objectionable as taking a walk. He cannot conceive why one should roam about, where there is nothing to seek and nothing to do, and why, under such circumstances, one would not rather lie down on the long bench and go to sleep.
When I think of good Kent, I always imagine him as having a rich, full voice, like that of Bronnen, whom, in his youth, he must have resembled.
Certain figures pass in procession before my mind's eye. The queen and Bronnen are the only ones ever present; the king vanished with the forgotten past. In my dreams, many visit me, but he never comes. Why, I know not. I cannot solve the enigma.
To one who, when alone, stops to think, many things lose in value, human beings among the rest. Personally, Gunther was no more to me than another would have been. Emma was a mere echo.
If we thus reckon over our possessions, we find them little enough, and I have left but little behind me in the world.
The ringing of the sleigh bells is the only sound one hears. The woods are full of busy workmen. Snow and ice, which block the roads elsewhere, here serve as highways.