Sofie threw him a quick glance and smiled. “He’s not here,” she said, shaking her head.
“I see,” said Ulrik Frederik, looking down.
There was a moment’s pause. Then Sofie spoke: “How sultry it is to-day!”
“Ay, we may get a thunderstorm, if the wind goes down.”
“It may be,” said Sofie, looking thoughtfully toward the house.
“Did you hear the shot this morning?” asked Ulrik Frederik, drawing himself up as though to imply that he was about to leave.
“Ay, and we may look for heart-rending times this summer. One may well-nigh turn light-headed with the thought of the danger to life and goods, and for me with so many kinsmen and good friends in this miserable affair, who are like to lose both life and limb and all they possess, there’s reason enough for falling into strange and gloomy thoughts.”
“Nay, sweet Mistress Sofie! By the living God, you must not shed tears!? You paint all in too dark colors—
Tousiours Mars ne met pas au jour
Des objects de sang et de larmes,
Mais”—
and he seized her hand and lifted it to his lips—