[XVIII.]
THE brave and prudent major had just made these arrangements, when a shadow passed close to him just as he was groping his way back to the bear-room to continue his examination, for he had yet to receive M. Goefle’s opinion—a most important one—about all that had happened in relation to Christian. This shadow moved with an uncertain step, and the major resolved to follow it, and did so, until, on encountering the wall of the donjon, it began to swear in rather a mild voice, which Christian recognized as that of Olof Bœtsoi, the son of the danneman.
“Whom do you want to see, my child?” he said, taking him by the arm. “And how is it that you have come here, instead of returning to your house?”
As he spoke, they all three entered the bear-room together.
“Faith, if you had not been there,” said Olof to Christian, “I should have been a long time looking for the door. I know the outside of Stollborg well, I could come to it with my eyes shut, but I don’t know anything about the inside! I have never been here in my life before. You can suppose that I could not return to the mountain right off, in this cursed weather. At last it began to brighten a little, and, after passing two hours at the major’s bostoelle, I set out on foot, lest my father should be uneasy; but, first of all, I wanted to bring back a portfolio which you left in the sleigh, Herr Christian. Here it is. I have not opened it. Whatever was in it you will find as you left it. I did not wish to intrust it to any one, for my father has often told me that papers are sometimes more precious than money.”
And Olof, in concluding, handed Christian a portfolio of black morocco, which he did not recognize at all.
“It is yours, perhaps,” he said to the major. “It may have been in the coat that you lent me.”
“No, I never saw it before,” replied Larrson.
“Then possibly it belongs to the lieutenant?”
“Oh, no indeed!” cried Martina; “he has no portfolios, except those that I embroider for him.”