When we regard the fixed star through a telescope and lose ourselves in contemplation, a little hair can conceal the mighty body, a grain of dust lead us from these sublime thoughts. A letter came for Miss Sophie; a traveller brought it from her mother: she was already in Funen, and announced her safe arrival.
“And the news?” said the hostess.
“Mamma has hired a new maid, or, rather, she has taken to be with her an amiable young girl—the pretty Eva in Roeskelde. Mr. Thostrup and Wilhelm related to us this summer several things about her which make her interesting. We saw her on our journey hither, when mamma was prepossessed by her well-bred appearance. Upon her return, the young girl has quite won her heart. It really were a pity if such a pretty, respectable girl remained in a public-house. She is very pretty; is she not, Mr. Thostrup?”
“Very pretty!” answered Otto, becoming crimson, for Sophie said this with an emphasis which was not without meaning.
The following day, at an early hour, Otto found himself at the merchant’s.
Spite of the changeable weather of our climate, all the ladies were in their best dresses. Three persons must sit upon each seat. Hans Peter and the lover had their place beside the coachman. It was a long time before the cold meat, the provision for several days, was packed up, and the whole company were seated. At length, when they had got out of the city, Christiane recollected that they had forgotten the umbrellas, and that, after all, it would be good to have them. The coachman must go back for them, and meantime the carriage drew up before the Column of Liberty. The poor sentinel must now become an object of Miss Grethe’s interest. Several times the soldier glanced down upon his regimentals. He was a Krähwinkler, who had an eye to his own advantage. A man who rode past upon a load of straw occupied a high position. That was very interesting.
Otto endeavored to give the conversation another direction. “Have not you seen the new poem which has just appeared, the ‘Letters of a Wandering Ghost?’” asked he, and sketched out their beauty and tendency.
“Doubtless, very heavy blows are dealt!” said Mr. Berger, “the man must be witty—Baggesen to the very letter.”
“The ‘Copenhagen Post’ is called the pump!” said Hans Peter.
“That is superb!” cried Grethe. “Who does it attack besides?”