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Updated: June 9, 2025
While she was sewing the dress, Gaud lent her ear to the conversation going on about Iceland, behind the partition, between Madame Tressoleur and two old sailors, drinking. They were discussing a new craft that was being rigged in the harbour. She never would be ready for the next season, so they said of this Leopoldine. "Oh, yes, to be sure she will!" answered the hostess.
Then he talked to little Leopoldine, and then, noticing the drawings on the walls, asked straight out who had done that. "Was it you?" he asked, turning to Sivert. The man felt, perhaps, he owed something for Inger's hospitality, and praised the drawings just to please her. Inger, on her part, explained the matter as it was: it was her boys had made the drawings both of them.
There were more buildings there than before, and all nicely painted. Inger hardly knew the place again, and stopped dead. "You you don't say that's our place all that?" she exclaimed. Little Leopoldine woke at last and sat up, thoroughly rested now; they lifted her out and let her walk. "Are we there now?" she asked. "Yes. Isn't it a pretty place?"
Let tiny Leopoldine go on quickly with her crochet work, and the boys with writing and schooling; they would not be altogether behindhand when the time came for them to go to school in the village. Eleseus in particular was grown a clever one, but little Sivert was nothing much, if the truth must be told a madcap, a jackanapes.
This had happened to him once forty years ago, and his own poor dead and gone mother had had a mass said for his soul. The Leopoldine was such a good boat, next to new, and her crew were such able-bodied seamen.
But of the Léopoldine nothing had been seen, and nothing was known. The Marie-Jeanne men the last to have seen it on the 2d of August said that she was to have gone on fishing farther towards the north; and beyond that the secret was unfathomable. Waiting, always waiting, and knowing nothing! When would the time come when she need wait no longer?
Isak, he just stood there; at last he said: "H'm. 'Tis a fine day and all." "I saw you down there all along," said Inger. "But I didn't want to come crowding ashore with the rest. So you're down in the village today?" "Ay, yes. H'm." "And all's well at home, everything all right?" "Ay, thank you kindly." "This is Leopoldine; she's stood the voyage much better than I did.
Sivert himself is all taken aback; first of all it was a surprise to see Jensine again, and now here's Eleseus going to leave the place altogether, not to say the world. "What about Storborg?" says he. "What'll you do with it?" "Andresen can have it," says Sivert. "Andresen have it? How d'you mean?" "Isn't he going to have Leopoldine?" "Don't know about that. Ay; perhaps he is."
Leopoldine she asked after you...." And Andresen stopped his work of a sudden and went very red. Pleasant days for them both, draining and ditching, getting up long arguments for fun, and working, and arguing again. Now and then Eleseus would come out and lend a hand, but he soon tired. Eleseus was not strong either of body or will, but a thorough good fellow for all that....
Chopin, only half-Polish, and finding his true home in Paris, had been loved by the tiny musicienne, hardly so big as her name, Leopoldine Blahetka, but his first true love was for the raving beauty, Constantia Gladkovska, whom he mourned for in prose as highly coloured as his nocturnes, wishing that after his death his ashes might be strewn under her feet. She married elsewhere.
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