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In the course of the morning Aksel Aarö was carried home by his companions, dead drunk. By some it was maintained that he had swallowed a tumbler of whisky in the belief that it was beer; others said that he was a "bout drinker." He had long been so but had concealed it. Those are called "bout-drinkers" who at long intervals seem impelled to drink. His father had been so before him.
Just at the conclusion of the second quadrille, she heard whispered "Aksel Aarö, Aksel Aarö!" and there he stood at the door, with three other young fellows behind him. The hostess was his elder sister. The four had come up from a card party to look on. Ella felt a thrill of delight, and at the same time her knees threatened to give way under her.
The heavy cloak which she had worn for driving was unfastened, she carried the shawl in her hand, but still the perspiration streamed off her; the idea was upon her that it was her dreams which were falling from her. At first she only thought of Aksel Aarö, the unhappy lost one!
"And how is Fru Holmbo?" asked Ella. She was frightened when she had said it, but she felt an intense bitterness which would break out. She had noticed how thin and pale Fru Holmbo looked she evidently missed Aarö, and that was too much! The friend smiled: "Oh! have you heard that silly rumour? No, Aksel Aarö was only the medium between her and the man to whom she was secretly attached.
He was tall, but not broad-shouldered; the small, somewhat narrow head, set on a rather long neck. She had never before noticed the way in which he turned his head. She felt now that there could be something, yes, almost musical about it. The room, and all that passed in it, seemed to float in light, but suddenly this light was gone. A little later she heard some one say, "Where is Aksel Aarö?
They passed the smoking-room, which seemed to be full at all events of smoke and laughter. The door of a little room by the side of it was opened; there lay Aksel Aarö on a bed.
Five years were gone, then, when one day it was reported through the whole town that Aksel Aarö had become a rich man. His old friend was dead and had left him a large annuity. It was also said that he had been a second time treated for dypsomania. The previous treatment had not been successful, but he was now cured.
Had the son, too, this dislike of companionship, this delight in his own enthusiasm? God be praised, Aksel Aarö was saved! Was it not from the depths of his enthusiasm that he had looked at her? This forced itself upon her for the first time; she had been occupied before by the change in him, but now it forced itself upon her hotly, with a thrill of fear and joy.
He did not dance, but she did. In whatever part of the room Aksel Aarö chanced to be, she felt conscious of his presence, felt a secret delight in whirling past him. His eyes followed her, his nearness made all and everything resplendent. Standing in the doorway was a heavy, sturdy fellow, who had constituted himself the critic of the assemblage.
Ella was so short, that when she came into the crowd, she had not seen Aksel Aarö when she heard several whispers of "There he is," and some one added, "He is coming towards us." It was Fru Holmbo for whom he was looking, and to whom he bowed; but just behind her stood Ella. When she felt that she was discovered, the bud blushed rosier than its calyx. He left Fru Holmbo at once.
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