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"Be host for this evening," he said to him, and Maurits was. He was everywhere. He led the dance, he led the drinking, and he made a speech for the county and for the ladies. He was wonderful. Both Uncle and she had watched Maurits, and then their eyes had met. Uncle had smiled and nodded to her. Uncle certainly was proud of Maurits.
He is quite mad, ready to throw himself upon her, press her to his breast and call to Maurits to come and tear her away if he can. His hands are in his pockets. Through the clenched fists cramp-like convulsions are passing. Can he allow her to put on her hat, to say goodbye to the old lady? There he stands again on the cliff of Naxos and wishes to steal the beloved for himself. Nor, not steal!
And when he speaks of the sacrifices he is making for her, it is only his way of saying how much he cares for her. And if she had expected that alone together on such a beautiful day he perhaps might be not quite the same as when they sat at home with her mother but that would not have been right of Maurits. She is proud of him. He is telling her what kind of a man his uncle is.
He is accustomed to render to the whole family connection such services. But he is not thinking of that, but of Downie. He wonders what is the meaning of that look of resentment she casts upon Maurits. It was not exactly love. And so in the midst of his despair over the sacrifice he has to make, a faint glimmer of hope begins to rise up before him.
He looks at her as a schoolmaster looks at a good pupil who is making a fool of himself at his examination. "That you do not at all understand what is at stake!" she cries. And she strikes out despairingly with her hands. "I really must talk to Uncle now," says Maurits, "if for nothing else, to show him that there is no question of any deceit.
But when uncle had come to that part of the story where Bengt Lagman went into the woods to avoid the meeting with his angry brother, and instead let his young wife meet the storm, then it became so plain that uncle understood Maurits had gone hunting to escape his wrath and that he knew how she thought to win him over.
And of course they all had to like her from the very first moment, if only for her way of looking at Maurits. For she thought that they were all there for his sake, and she had to turn her eyes away from the whole spectacle to look at him, as he took off his hat with a sweep and bowed so beautifully and royally. Oh, such a look as she gave him!
Five minutes later he is rolling down the avenue in his big carriage, and the coachman is driving so that the horses seem to be lying along the ground. After another five minutes uncle is there again, and now an old lady is sitting beside him in the carriage. And in he comes, with a kind, talkative old lady on his arm. And she takes Anne-Marie and embraces her, but Maurits she greets more stiffly.
But that had not troubled her at all, for Maurits had time after time come up and whispered: "You see, I can't get away from her. We are old friends. Here in the country they are so unaccustomed to have a partner who has been in society and can both dance and talk. You must lend me to the daughters of the county magnates for this evening, Anne-Marie." But Uncle, too, gave way to Maurits.
He never calls me Downie; only Anne-Marie. Maurits is so admirable." Oh, how it had danced and laughed in uncle's eyes! She could have struck him with her switch. She repeated almost with a sob: "Maurits is so admirable." "Yes, I know, I know," Uncle had answered. "He is going to be my heir." Whereupon she had cried: "Ah; Uncle Theodore, why do you not marry?
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