In troops they all took refuge in the house. The young ladies turned pale, most of them were afraid of the thunder, one even fainted.
Leo proposed they should form a circle, and that each of them should tell a story, he who did not know any had to give a forfeit.
They agreed to this. The order of precedence was appointed by lot, and one of the gentlemen made the beginning with a merry student’s anecdote, which he declared he had experienced himself. Then it was the turn of some young girls, who preferred to pay forfeits, and then he himself was called out.
The gentlemen cleared their throats mockingly, and the girls nudged each other and giggled. Then anger overpowered him, and, knitting his brow, he began at random,
“Once upon a time there was some one who was so ridiculous that people had only to look at him when they wanted to laugh to their hearts content. He himself did not know how this was, for he had never laughed in his life.”
There was a deep silence all round. The smiles froze on their faces, first one and then the other looked down upon the ground.
“Go on,” cried Elsbeth, nodding to him gently. But a feeling of shame came over him that he thus dared to show his innermost self to these strange people.
“I can’t go on,” he said, and rose.
This time no one laughed, and for a while there was only a deep, oppressive silence, and then the girl who had been chosen to collect the forfeits came up to him and said, with a polite courtesy,
“Then you must pay a forfeit.”