He sat as he liked best to sit, with bent head and his hands open upon his knees.
And Cordt grew gentle again and said, softly:
“You are glad, of course. For, you see, she is your mother.”
He crossed the room and came back and stood with his arm over the back of the chair and looked at Finn, who was lost in his thoughts. It was silent in the room and silent outside, for it was Sunday. They could hear the bells ringing for evening service.
“She never secured the red flowers in the place of the blue which she valued so little,” said Cordt, “I don’t know ... I often thought....”
The bells rang out.
There was one that was quite close and one that was farther away, but louder, nevertheless. And there was a sound of distant bells which could not be distinguished from one another, but which sang in the air.
It sounded louder than it was, because they were thinking of it; and the ringing grew and filled the room with its deafening clamor.
Then there came a rumbling in the gateway. The carriage drove out in the soft snow, where they could not hear it.
“That’s Fru Adelheid going to church,” said Cordt.