They stop for a moment and look about them. "Bror!"
cries Fru Falkenberg, and sets off at a run down the shrubbery. "No, don't
come," she calls back over her shoulder. "You _mustn't_, I tell you."
But the engineer ran after her, all the same. Wonderfully young he was,
and all inflexible.
Now the stout Captain and his lady come up, and their talk is a marvel to
hear. Love: there is nothing like it, so it seems. The stout cavalier must
be sixty at the least, and the lady with him, say forty; their infatuation
was a sight to see.
The Captain speaks:
"And up to this evening I've managed to hide it somehow, but now--well,
it's more than any man can. You've bewitched me Frue, completely."
"I didn't think you cared so much, really," she answers gently, trying to
help him along.
"Well, I do," he says. "And I can't stand it any longer, and that's the
truth. When we were up in the woods just now, I still thought I could get
through one more night, and didn't say anything much at the time.
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