Yet, in spite of the double mischance thus attending the beginning of the déjeûner sur l'herbe, all turns out pleasantly enough. The general remembers that his pocket-knife is provided with a corkscrew; the married pair recover their serenity; the crabs, in spite of many obstacles, are half cooked at the fire, and--for Freddy's sake--pronounced excellent; the cold capon and the pâte de foie gras leave nothing to be desired; the mayonnaise has not been forgotten, and the champagne is capital.
Hilarity is so fully restored that when the carriages, ordered at five o'clock, make their appearance, the company is singing in unison 'Prince Eugene, that noble soldier,' to an exhilarating accompaniment played by the general with the back of a knife on a plate.
Baron Rohritz, who is not familiar with 'Prince Eugene,' and who consequently listens in silence to that inspiring song, glances critically at a small point of purple cloud creeping up from behind the mountains.
"My barometer----" he begins; but Katrine interrupts him irritably: "Ah, do spare us with your barometer!"
A foreign element suddenly mingles with the merry talk. A loud blast of wind howls through the mighty branches of the old oak, tearing away a handful of leaves to toss them as in scorn in the dismayed faces of the party; a tall champagne-bottle falls over, and breaks two glasses.
"It is late; we have far to go, and the hacks are scarcely trustworthy," the captain remarks. "I think we had better begin to pack up."
Preparations to return are made hurriedly. The general begs for a place in the landau, as his backbone is sorely in need of some support, and Freddy also, who is apt to catch cold, is taken into the carriage from the open conveyance.
No one expresses any anxiety with regard to Stella; she slips into her brown water-proof and is helped up upon the box of the drag, where the captain takes his place beside her, while Rohritz gets into the seat behind them. They set off. Once more the sun breaks forth from among the rapidly-darkening masses of clouds, but the air is heavy and in the distance there is a faint mutter of thunder.
Wonderful to relate, the hired steeds follow the sorrels with the most praiseworthy rapidity, due perhaps to the fact that the coachman makes the whip whistle uninterruptedly about their long ears. Katrine, who is sitting with her back to the horses, sees nothing of this, but rejoices to find the pace of the hacks so much improved. Suddenly Stasy in a panic exclaims, "Katrine!"
"What is the matter?"