We worked at it for a couple of hours, Harald and I. He was good and quick, and so innocent in his eagerness; I, for my part, was thinking of anything but kites. We made a tail several metres long, and busied ourselves with paste and lashing and binding; twice Frøken Elisabeth came out to look on. She may have been every bit as sweet and bright as before, but I cared nothing for what she was, and gave no thought, to her.
Then came the order to harness ready to start. I should have obeyed the order at once, for we had a long drive before us, but, instead, I sent Harald in to ask if we might wait just half an hour more. And we worked on till the kite was finished. Next day, when the paste was dry, Harald could send up his kite and watch it rise, and feel unknown emotion within him, as I did now.
Ready to start.
Fruen comes out; all the family are there to see her off. The priest and his wife both know me again, return my greeting, and say a few words—but I heard nothing said of my taking service with them now. The priest knew me again—yes; and his blue-eyed wife looked at me with that sidelong glance of hers as she knew me again, for all she had known me the night before as well.
Frøken Elisabeth brings out some food for the journey, and wraps her friend up well.
“Sure you'll be warm enough, now?” she asks for the last time.
“Quite sure, thanks; it's more than warm enough with all these. Farvel, Farvel.”
“See you drive as nicely as you did yesterday,” says Frøken, with a nod to me as well.
And we drove off.
The day was raw and chilly, and I saw at once that Fruen was not warm enough with her rug.