How pleasant it must have been to the family the next morning to assemble round the amply-supplied breakfast-table in a handsome and spacious drawing-room. But drawing-room, and breakfast-table, and all outward comforts, signify nothing, if the inward are wanting; if affectionate dispositions and kind looks do not make the room bright, and the breakfast well-flavoured. But nothing was wanting on this morning to the family of the Franks—not even the sun. It shone in brightly to illumine the bright scene.
Henrik made a speech to Madame Folette, in testimony of his love and reverence for her, and of his joy on meeting her again in so good a state of preservation.
Louise, with the help of Eva, served tea and coffee, bread and butter, etc., taking particular care that everybody had just what they liked best. The basket which held sugar-biscuits was constantly in the neighbourhood of Jacobi.
"How glorious this is!" exclaimed Henrik, rubbing his hands, and casting a glance of pleasure around on his parents and sisters, "it is quite paradisiacal! What does your Majesty desire? Ah, your most devoted servant! Coffee, if I might ask it, excellent Madame Folette!"
"After breakfast," said the mother, "I have something for you to guess."
"Something to guess?" said Henrik, "what can it be? Tell me, what is it like, sweet mamma? what name does it bear?"
"A wedding," replied she.
"A wedding? A most interesting novelty! I cannot swallow another morsel till I have made it out! Jacobi, my best fellow, can I possess myself of a biscuit? A wedding! Do I know the parties?"
"Perfectly well."
"It cannot possibly be our excellent Uncle Munter, himself?" suggested he. "He seems to me very odd, and, as it were, a little touched in the heart."