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But one night, in tempestuous weather, whilst the rain streamed down, Oluf Tyste came to the cloister wall, threw his rope-ladder over it, and however high the Vettern lifted its waves, Oluf and little Agda flew away over its fathomless depths that autumn night. Early in the morning the nuns missed little Agda. What a screaming and shouting the cloister is disgraced!
"Well, I think I'll go out now!" "Are you goin' to the Tahr, then?" "No," he answered. "No, I hadn't thought of that. I want to see Fleet Street!..." "Fleet Street!" Lizzie exclaimed. "Wotever is there to see there." "Oh, I don't know. I want to see it. That's all!" "You 'ave got funny tyste.
And all the nuns of the cloister sang: "Christ grant that such an angel were to come, and take both me and thee!" The old dame will also sing for thee of the beautiful Ogda and Oluf Tyste; and at once the cloister is revived in its splendour, the bells ring, stone houses arise they even rise from the waters of the Vettern: the little town becomes churches and towers.
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