“Very well, then, go on with the breakfast,” said the doctor, reassured. “Give us the tobacco, Ulph, and let the tea-kettle alone. We will make the tea for ourselves.”
As Ulph accordingly turned to the stove to set down the tea-kettle, Cristiano stepped after him, as if to superintend the operation, and turning towards him, said in his ear, in Dalecarlian, and with another terrifying glance:
“Horse, sleigh, new chateau—quick!”
Upon this Ulph took it into his head that in his drunkenness he must have received some orders which he had not executed; so he hurried off, put on his skates, and went over to the new chateau to look for Loki through the noisy stables, overcrowded with grooms and horses.
Our doctor of laws did not eat so gluttonously as the doctor of sciences, Stangstadius. He took his time, and savored and passed judgment upon every dish, according to the great principles which govern the application of the culinary art to the lofty needs of the choicer class of stomachs. At the end of a further half hour of conversation, with experiments, on the subject, he and Cristiano, as they looked at each other, perceived each a rosy reflection upon the other’s face.
“There it is at last!” said the doctor; “the sun is just coming above the horizon.”
He looked at his watch.
“A quarter before ten,” he observed. “Come, this Mora watch does very well. See, this is of home manufacture. Our Dalecarlians make everything. They make all their own tools, from the simplest to the most complicated. But don’t put out the candle, it will be convenient while we are smoking; and besides, in the winter, I like to watch the doubtful, fantastic mingling of the sunlight and the artificial light struggling together in the room. Why, the clock’s striking! You wound it up last evening, then?”
“Certainly. Did you not observe it?”
“I did not observe anything. I was sleeping while standing up, or else I was dreaming. Perhaps it is only a dream that I came in here and took supper. No matter. Can you make tea?”