“He stopped at the Spladgest, and has embarked for Munkholm.”
“Ah! I supposed he was at the antipodes. But what is his business at that castle? What took him to the Spladgest? Just like my knight-errant. After all, I am rather to blame, for why did I give him such a bringing up? I wanted him to be free in spite of his rank.”
“Therefore he is no slave to etiquette,” said Poël.
“No; but he is to his own caprice. Well, he will doubtless return. Rest and refresh yourself, Poël. Tell me,” and the general’s face took on an expression of solicitude, “tell me, Poël, have you been doing much running up and down?”
“General, we came here direct from Bergen. My master was melancholy.”
“Melancholy! Why, what can have occurred between him and his father? Is he averse to this marriage?”
“I do not know. But they say that his Serene Highness insists upon it.”
“Insists! You say, Poël, that the viceroy insists upon this match! But why should he insist unless Ordener refused?”
“I don’t know, your Excellency. He seems sad.”
“Sad! Do you know how his father received him?”