She had not sung for many years, except in church, and was surprised at his request:
“I have given up singing, Finn.”
He lay down before her and looked up smiling into her face:
“I can remember so well when you used to sing,” he said. “You often sang to me when I was a boy. But one occasion ... one occasion I remember in particular. There were many visitors and I, of course, had long been in bed, but I was not asleep. For old Marie had promised to take me down to the dining-room when the people had got up from dinner and you were to sing. She told me that, when there was company and all the candles were lighted and you were prettiest and brightest, then you sang a thousand times more beautifully than usual.”
She took her eyes from his face and laid her head back in her chair.
“I kept awake till she came and it lasted long. But then I heard you and also saw you for a moment through the door.”
“And was it so nice?”
“I don’t remember,” he said. “But I remember the many faces.... I should know them again if I saw them now, I think. And best of all I remember father’s.”
Fru Adelheid rose:
“What shall I sing?” she asked.