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"Don't you imagine, Master Jacobi, that the people before the Flood were much wickeder than those of our time?" asked Petrea, who wished to occupy the Candidate, nothing deterred by his evident abstraction, and whom nobody had asked if she liked fieldfares. "Oh, much much better," answered Jacobi. "Cousin Louise, are you fond of roast hare?" asked the Landed-proprietor.
She besought her therefore to go to rest, seated herself beside her bed, took her hands in hers, and then attempted to divert her mind from the past scene, endeavouring with the utmost delicacy to turn her mind on the Candidate and on the Landed-proprietor as lovers. But Louise had only one thought, one sentiment the happy release from her doubt, and thankfulness for it.
During the first days of her stay at Axelholm she had been uncommonly joyous and lively; now she was quiet, thoughtful, often absent, and towards the Candidate, as it seemed, less friendly than formerly, whilst she lent a more willing ear to the Landed-proprietor, although she still resolutely withstood his proposal of a drive to Oestanvik.
Many people asserted that the agreeable and cordial Jacobi was much nearer to Louise's heart than the rich Landed-proprietor! but even towards Jacobi her conduct was so equal, so tranquil, so unconstrained, that nobody could exactly tell how it might be.
The Landed-proprietor stood on one side offering her his hand, and Jacobi on the other offering his also, to conduct her to her former seat. She appeared faint, and moved slowly.
Beside his large estate, the Landed-proprietor was possessed of a large portly body, round cheeks, plump from excess of health, a pair of large grey eyes remarkable for their unmeaning expression, a little ruddy mouth, which, preferred eating rather than speaking, which laughed without meaning, and which now directed to Cousin Louise he considered himself related to her father sundry speeches which we will string together in our next chapter.
"Cousin Louise, are you fond of fish? for example, bream?" asked the Landed-proprietor one evening as he seated himself beside Louise, who was industriously working a landscape in her embroidery-frame. "Oh, yes! bream is good fish," replied she, very phlegmatically, and without looking up from her work. "Oh, with red-wine sauce," said the Landed-proprietor, "delicate!
As the Candidate hastened with lover's speed to Louise's parents he struck hard against somebody in the doorway, who was coming out. The two opponents stepped back each a few paces, and the Candidate and the Landed-proprietor stared in astonishment on each other.
At my seat at Oestanvik I have little, little patience-cards. I fancy really that they would please my cousin. The Landed-proprietor seats himself on the other side of Louise: the Candidate gives some extraordinary shrugs. Louise. This is not patience, but a little witchcraft, by which I read Fate. Shall I prophesy to you, Cousin Thure? Landed-proprietor. Oh, yes! prophesy something to me.
The Landed-proprietor received already felicitations on his betrothal. What the bride-elect, however, thought on the matter was more difficult to fathom.
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