“He draws nearer and nearer to her.
‘O, give my hope an answer by this pink-flower.’
She sighs: ‘O, I will--no--I will not.’”
The Dancer, by PALUDAN-MÜLLER
“I shall get to know!” thought Otto. “This violent love cannot be
evaporated.” He paid attention to every little occurrence. Eva was the
same quiet, modest creature as formerly--a house-fairy who exercised
a friendly influence over all. Wilhelm spoke with her, but not with
passion, neither with affected indifference. However, we cannot entirely
rely upon Otto’s power of observation: his glance was directed too often
toward a dearer object--his attention was really directed to Sophie.
They walked in the garden.
“Once as you certainly know,” said Otto, “your brother had a fancy for
the pretty Eva. Is it not, therefore, somewhat dangerous her living
here? Has your mother been prudent?”
“For Wilhelm I am quite unconcerned!” answered Sophie. “Only take care
of yourself! Eva is very amiable, and has very much changed for the
better since she came here. My sister Louise quite raves about her, and
my mother regards her almost as an adopted daughter. You have certainly
remarked that she is not kept in the background. Yet she is weak; she
resembles the tender mountain-flowers which grow in ice and snow, but
which bow their heads in the soft mountain air, when it is warmed by
the sun. It really seems to me that she is become weaker since she has
enjoyed our care and happy days. When I saw her at Roeskelde she was far
more blooming.”
“Perhaps she thinks of your brother--thinks of him with quiet sorrow?”
“That I do not think is the case,” replied Sophie; “otherwise Louise
would have heard something of it. She possesses Eva’s entire confidence.
You may make yourself easy, if you are jealous!”
“What make you conjecture this? My thoughts are directed above, and not
beneath me!” said he, with a kind of pride, “I feel that I could never
fall in love with Eva. Feel love toward her? no! Even when I think of
it, I feel almost as though I had some prejudice against her. But you
joke; you will rally me, as you have so often done. We shall soon part!
Only two months longer shall I remain in Denmark! Two long years abroad!
How much may occur in that time! Will you think of me--really think of
me, Miss Sophie?” He bent, and kissed her hand.
Sophie became crimson. Both were silent.
“Are you here!” said the mother, who came out of a side walk.
Otto stooped lower, and broke one of the beautiful stocks which hung
over the border.
“Are you taking Louise’s favorite flowers?” said she, smiling. “This bed
is declared to be inviolable.”
“I was so unfortunate as to break it!” said Otto, confused.
“He wished to gather the dark-red pink for my table-garland!” said
Sophie. “If he took it, my conscience would be clear!”
And they all three walked along speaking of cherries, gooseberries, of
the linen on the bleaching-ground, and of the warm summer’s day.
In the evening Eva and the two sisters sat at their work, Otto and
Wilhelm had taken their seats beside them. They spoke of Copenhagen.
Sophie knew how to introduce a number of little anecdotes, which she had
gathered among the young ladies there. Otto entered into her ideas, and
knew cleverly how to support what she said. What in reality interested
young ladies was discussed.
“When a girl is confirmed, all manner of fancies awake!” said Otto. “She
experiences a kind of inclination for the heart of man; but this may
not be acknowledged, except for two friends to the clergyman and the
physician. For these she has quite a passion, especially for the
former; she stands in a kind of spiritual rapport with him. His physical
amiability melts into the spiritual. Thus her first love one may
designate clergyman-love.”
“That is well said!” exclaimed Sophie.
“He preaches himself so deeply into her heart!” pursued Otto. “She melts
into tears, kisses his hand, and goes to church; but not for the sake of
God, but on account of the sweet clergyman!”
“O, I know that so well!” said Sophie, and laughed.
“Fie! you do not mean so!” said Louise; “and I do not know how you can
say such a thing Mr. Thostrup! That is frightful! You do not in the
least know a young girl’s soul! do not know the pure feeling with which
she inclines herself to the man who has laid open before her the holy
things of religion! Do not make sport of the innocent, the pure, which
is so far removed from every earthly impression!”
“I assure you,” said Otto, smiling, “were I a poet, I would make the
clergyman-love ridiculous in a hundred witty epigrams; and were I a
teacher, I would protest against it from the chair.”
“That would be scattering poison into a well!” said Louise. “You, as a
man, do not know the pure, the holy sentiment which exists in a young
girl’s bosom. Eva, thou art certainly of my opinion?”
“Neither is this Mr. Thostrup’s opinion?” answered she, and looked at
him with a mild gravity.
Wilhelm laughed aloud.