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Updated: June 20, 2025
The poet must be like the painter; he must seize upon these moments in human life as the other in nature. If the reader were a child who lived in Odense, it would require nothing more from him than that he should say the words, "St. Knud's fair;" and this, illumined by the beams of the imagination of childhood, would stand before him in the most brilliant colors.
Knud's parents had come over from Norway to this country, and settled in Chicago. Knud had been early taught how to be a good boy. His parents' words did not pass into his ears to be forgotten. Knud remembered everything they said; and, what was better, he practiced it. They were quite sure that when Knud was out of their sight, he behaved just as well as if their eyes were on him.
His courage failed, and he felt as if his heart would burst. He kept down the tears, but it was easy to see how sorrowful he was. "You honest, faithful soul," she exclaimed; and the words loosened Knud's tongue, and he told her how truly he had loved her, and that she must be his wife; and as he said this, he saw Joanna change color, and turn pale.
Just opposite to the entrance of the church may be seen, built into the wall, a stone, on which is a bas-relief, and before it a grave. This attracted Otto's attention. Knud's Church. "Christian the Second!" exclaimed Otto. "Denmark's wisest and dearest king!" "Christian the Bad!" said the Kammerjunker, amazed at the tone of enthusiasm in which Otto had spoken.
There were crowds of people, and sometimes the weather would be rainy, and splash with moisture the woollen jackets of the peasants; but it did not destroy the beautiful fragrance of the honey-cakes and gingerbread with which one booth was filled; and the best of it was, that the man who sold these cakes always lodged during the fair-time with little Knud's parents.
Then she asked so many questions about Knud's parents, and everything, even to the elder-tree and the willow, which she called "elder-mother and willow-father," as if they had been human beings; and so, indeed, they might be, quite as much as the gingerbread cakes.
"Greet the grandmother for me!" Otto and Sophie went. "That's a very laughing body!" said the woman half aloud, as she looked after them; her glance followed Otto, she folded her hands she was thinking, perhaps, on the days of her childhood. At St. Knud's church-yard Otto and Sophie overtook the others. They were going into the church.
And now, when he lay dead on the bed, my mother remembered this, and it occupied my thoughts also. He was buried in St. Knud's churchyard, by the door on the left hand side coming from the altar. My grandmother planted roses upon his grave. There are now in the selfsame place two strangers' graves, and the grass grows green upon them also. After my father's death I was entirely left to myself.
It seemed to Knud as if the whole room were whirling round and round with him. He felt as if his heart would presently burst: no tear rose to his eyes, but still it was easy to see how sorrowful he was. "You honest, faithful soul!" she exclaimed; and these words of hers loosened Knud's tongue.
His love for Sophie was no longer a caged bird within his breast; its wings were at liberty; Louise saw its release; it was about to fly to its goal. St. Knud's fair was at hand, and on that account the family was about to set out for Odense. Eva was the only one who was to remain at home. It was her wish to do so.
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