Fruen greets me with a kindly glance, and says:
“The place looks different altogether after the way you've painted it so nicely. The Captain's ever so pleased.”
She seemed calmer now than when I had seen her last, on the stairs of the hotel in the town. She did not start and breathe quickly at sight of me as she had with Grindhusen, and that could only mean she was not displeased at seeing me again! So I thought to myself, and was glad to think so. But why had she not left off that unsteady glance, that flutter of the eyes, she had fallen into of late? If I were the Captain, now, I would speak to her about it. And her complexion, too, was not what it had been. There were some curious little spots about the temples. But what matter? She was no less pretty for that.
“I'm afraid, though,” she went on, “it wasn't my idea at all with the lovely grey for the house. You must have made a mistake in thinking I said so.”
“Well, then, I can't make it out. But, anyhow, it's no matter; the Captain himself decided to have it.”
“The staircase is simply splendid, and so are the rooms upstairs. It's twice as bright as before....”
'Twas Fruen herself was trying to be twice as bright and
“Why, yes, Grindhusen, the Captain's wife is married twice as good as before.” I knew that well enough. And she fancied she owed me these little marks of kindliness, for something or other. Well and good, but now it was enough. Best let it be.
Autumn drawing on, the scent of the jasmine all importunate down in the shrubbery, and red and yellow showing up long since on the wooded hills. Not a soul in the place but is glad to have Fruen at home again; the flag, too, does its part. 'Tis like a Sunday; the maids have put clean aprons on, fresh from the ironing.
In the evening I went down by the little stone steps to the shrubbery and sat there a while. The jasmines were pouring out waves of perfume after the heat of the day. After awhile Nils came down, looking for me.