The things we do!

I try drawing out Falkenberg again. Falkenberg was sharp
enough at times to understand people.
Did he still sing for Fruen?
Lord, no; that was all over. Falkenberg wished he hadn't taken service
here at all; 'twas nothing but trouble and misery about the place.
Trouble and misery? Weren't they friends, then, the Captain and his Lady?
Oh yes, they were friends. In the same old way. Last Saturday she had been
crying all day.
"Funny thing it should be like that," say I, "when they're so upright and
considerate towards each other." And I watch to see what Falkenberg says
to that.
"Eh, but they're ever weary," says Falkenberg in his Valdres dialect. "And
she's losing her looks too. Only in the time you've been gone, she's got
all pale and thin."
I sat up in the loft for a couple of hours, keeping an eye on the main
building from my window, but the Captain did not appear. Why didn't he go
out? It was hopeless to wait any longer; I should have to go without
making my excuses to the Captain.


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