"Good morning, friends," said the pastor. "Alete has told you I had a favor to ask. I have a friend here who does not know our old Swedish songs, and I rely on you to give him a good idea."
The three young men looked toward Ireneus and then toward each other. Then, being encouraged by signs from Ebba, and having drunken a glass of wine which was offered them, they sang a song which was designated.
They sang, one after the other, the romance of Agnete, who was surprised on the shore and borne beneath the water by the amorous Neck. That of fair Carine, the victim of her virtue, the soul of whom flew to heaven in the shape of a white dove, where it was again transformed into a joyous harp, the sweet sounds of which won the crown of queen. Much to his regret, Ireneus could not understand the sense of these songs, which are, so to say, idyls and charming dramas. He however listened with undefinable emotion to those simple and artless melodies, which, in their expression of grief and joy, were so pure that they seemed to spring from the very heart of the people. He begged Ebba to say to the singers how delighted he was, and they then went to the kitchen to tell how pleased the Parisian had been.
After dinner Alete and Ebba went into the drawing-room, and having carefully shut the door, might have been heard going and coming, and giving orders, while the pastor entertained his guests. Alete seemed very busy. She called the servants—had the position of the furniture changed—sometimes talked loudly, and then whispered. Some mysterious scene occupying the thoughts of Ireneus was taking place there.
Toward evening the mystery was explained. Alete came to take the arm of the pastor in triumph, and he, M. de Vermondans, and Ireneus, went toward the room. Drapery of many colors covered the wall, and bouquets of moss and artificial flowers, candelabras reflected from the mirrors, boughs of trees, all made the light soft as that which penetrates the forest. On a large table was the Christmas tree, full of lights, and adorned with bows of ribbon. The pastor had asked Alete to arrange everything as she chose, and to place in the best possible light the presents intended for his friends. With them Alete and Ebba had placed those they intended to make, and all had been arranged most tastefully. Of the pine branch she had made a tree, miraculously bearing silk dresses, portfolios, slippers, embroidered collars, gold ear-rings, &c. The branches bent beneath the weight.
M. de Vermondans gathered a meerschaum mounted with silver: Ireneus several pieces of silk worked by his cousins, and a wooden cup, very beautifully carved by an Angermanian peasant. Exclamations were made as the different objects were detached from the mystic tree, for Alete had taken care to wrap each article with a double and triple envelope, in order to prolong the expectation of the spectators, and to enjoy their surprise. Afterward the servants came in, and also the farmer's boys, none of whom were forgotten, and who kissed the hands of the old priest. The Christmas tree was stripped of its treasures, and all deserted it, as barren and useless. Alas, for human ingratitude!
The pastor, taking advantage of a moment when none were looking, went to the solitary tree, and took from it a letter with a red seal. Then calling his future daughter-in-law, he said, "Since when, dear Alete, have you become so careless of the good things of this world, or so negligent, as to abandon the Christmas tree, without ascertaining all that hangs from it?"
"I do not know that I can get anything from it, except a few pieces of ribbon and half-burnt lights."
"You think so, do you? Well, look here."
"What?" said Alete; "a letter, with Eric's name on it. This is a surprise for him. What is it? That puzzles me. Look, Eric—one day I shall have a right to open your letters, but now be quick and open this yourself."