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At Årsta some one came into Mamsell Fredrika's room and laid her hand gently on the sleeper's arm. "Up, my Fredrika! It is time to go to the early mass." Old Mamsell Fredrika opened her eyes and saw Agathe, her beloved sister who was dead, standing by the bed with a candle in her hand. She recognized her, for she looked just as she had done on earth.
And just as then for the first time the stars of heaven are visible, one also sees much on earth that one never sees by day. Now in the light of the red buds of the Jericho rose one could see a crowd of strange figures in Mamsell Fredrika's drawing-room.
From its windows on one side the eye stretched over nearly five miles of meadows, fields, and villages belonging to the estate. In spite of its surroundings, however, Fredrika's childhood was not a happy one. Her mother was severe and impatient of petty faults, and the child's mind became embittered. Her father was reserved and melancholy.
Thus musing to herself before the mirror, she gave final touches to her toilet, and stepped down into her sister's sumptuous parlor to wait for a lover, restored from the depths of the sea. Promptly at 9 o'clock Alfonso was ushered into Fredrika's parlor.
Now in her old age no one noticed what Mamsell Fredrika looked like. Those who saw the little, slender figure, the tiny, delicate hands and the kind, clever face, instantly longed to be able to preserve that sight in remembrance as the most beautiful of memories. In Mamsell Fredrika's big room, among many relics and souvenirs, there was a little, dry bush.
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