A few days passed on. Otto heard nothing of German Heinrich or of his sister. Peter Cripple seemed not to be in their confidence. All that he knew was, that the letter which he had conveyed to Otto was to be unknown to any one beside. As regarded German Heinrich, he believed that he was now in another part of tire country; but that at St. Knud’s fair, in Odense, he would certainly find him.
In Otto’s soul there was an extraordinary combating. Louise’s words, that he had been deceived, gave birth to hopes, which, insignificant as the grain of mustard-seed, shot forth green leaves.
“May not,” thought he, “German Heinrich, to further his own plans, have made use of my fear? I must speak with him; he shall swear to me the truth.”
He compared in thought the unpleasing, coarse features of Sidsel, with the image which his memory faintly retained of his little sister. She seemed to him as a delicate creature with large eyes. He had not forgotten that the people about them had spoken of her as of “a kitten that they could hardly keep alive.” How then could she now be this square-built, singularly plain being, with the eyebrows growing together? “I must speak with Heinrich,” resolved he; “she cannot be my sister! so heavily as that God will not try me.”
By such thoughts as these his mind became much calmer. There were moments when the star of love mirrored itself in his life’s sea.
His love for Sophie was no longer a caged bird within his breast; its wings were at liberty; Louise saw its release; it was about to fly to its goal.
St. Knud’s fair was at hand, and on that account the family was about to set out for Odense. Eva was the only one who was to remain at home. It was her wish to do so.
“Odense is not worth the trouble of thy going to see,” said Sophie; “but in this way thou wilt never increase thy geographical knowledge. In the mean time, however, I shall bring thee a fairing—a husband of honey cake, ornamented with almonds.”
Wilhelm thought that she should enjoy the passing pleasure, and go with them; but Eva prayed to stay, and she had her will.
“There is a deal of pleasure in the world,” said Wilhelm, “if people will only enjoy it. If one day in Paris is a brilliant flower, a day at Odense fair is also a flower. It is a merry, charming world that we live in! I am almost ready to say with King Valdemar, that if I might keep—yes, I will say, the earth, then our Lord might willingly for me keep heaven: there it is much better than we deserve; and God knows whether we may not, in the other world, have longings after the old world down here!”