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Updated: June 5, 2025
Some months later an announcement appeared in the papers that she wished to take pupils both for the piano and book-keeping. She was once more living in her own little house in her native town. She was at this time enciente. One day an old friend of Aksel Aarö's came to see her; he was to remember Aarö very kindly to her, and to congratulate her on her marriage.
She was thus alone until some one knocked at the door. It was Peter Klausson again. He saw her astonishment and smiled. "We are to lunch together," he said. "Are we?" she replied. She looked at the table; it was laid for five. "Have you heard lately from your husband?" "No." A long pause. Was Peter Klausson fit company for Aksel Aarö? Her husband's boon companion!
To-morrow or the next day he would leave the country; she knew this from past experience, and this time it would be for ever. But as she thought how terrible it was, the toupet on the pillow seemed to ask: "Was Aksel Aarö so very genuine?" "Yes, yes, how could he help it if he became bald so early." "H'm," answered the toupet; "he could have confessed to it."
He scanned the dancers as they passed him, but gave the palm to the little one in the red dress; she was the pleasantest to look at: not only was she a fine girl, but her buoyant happiness seemed to infect him. When Aksel Aarö approached, Hjalmar Olsen received a share of the love glances which streamed from her eyes. She danced every dance.
A few days later Aksel Aarö went quietly off to America. Another of those who had been at the ball, steamed about the same time across the Atlantic. This was Hjalmar Olsen.
As usual, she went round by "Andresen's at the corner." To see the house was enough. Just as her eyes rested on it, Aksel Aarö appeared in the doorway. He came slowly down the steps. He was at home again! His fair beard lay on the dark fur of his coat, a fur cap covered his low forehead and came down almost to his eyes; those large, attractive eyes.
"I see that you know who it is from," said Fru Holmbo, and Ella blushed more than ever. With a rather superior smile and the prettiest lady in the town had a superabundance of them she said, "Aksel Aarö is not fond of writing.
At this concert, Aksel Aarö sang Möhring's "Sleep in Peace." As every one knows, a subdued chorus carries the song forward; a flood of moonlight seemed to envelop it, and through it swept Aksel Aarö's voice. His voice was a clear, full, deep baritone, from which every one derived great pleasure. He could have drawn it out, without break or flaw, from here to Vienna.
She greeted friends and mere acquaintance alike, and when she again saw Cecilie she put down the flowers, made a snowball, and threw it at her back. When she got home she wrapped the children well up and put them into the sledge with Tea. "Mamma, mamma!" they shouted and pointed up towards the hotel. There stood Aksel Aarö. He bowed to her. Soon afterwards he came across.
Almost at the same moment Aksel Aarö came in among his companions and was received with the most energetic hand-clapping by all his friends men as well as women. He bowed politely though somewhat coldly, but the expressions of welcome did not cease until his companions drew back a little, while he came forward. First of all, the Society gave one of its older songs.
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