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Updated: May 17, 2025
'For the Kunstner Karneval! she cried eagerly, while her poor absurd face lit up. "'Yes, Fröken; and I shall be happy to escort you there if you will give me the pleasure. "She looked at me with sudden suspicion the idea that I was chaffing her must have crossed her mind. I felt myself flushing furiously, feeling somehow half-guilty by my secret thoughts of her a few moments ago.
No; it wasn't with the Prince of Wales confess your admiration is going down already. Come, you shall guess. Je vous le donne en trois." After teasing me a little he told me it was the Kronprinds of Denmark. "At the Kunstner Karneval in Copenhagen," he explained briefly. His front face had grown sad again. "Did you study art in Copenhagen?" I inquired.
I smiled majestically. "You stick to your art leave me to manage mine." And I put a light to his cigarette. "Ah, but you'll be disappointed this time, I warrant," he said laughingly, as the smoke circled round his diabolically handsome face. Then, becoming serious again, he went on: "It's so terribly plebeian, yet it all befell through that very Kunstner Karneval.
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