And with perfect indifference she
answered my "_Goddag_," and passed on.
It could not be all over for good between the Captain and his wife. I
based this view upon the following grounds:
Ragnhild, the parlour-maid, was her mistress's friend and trusted spy. She
noted things on Fruen's behalf, went last to bed, listened on the stairs,
made a few swift, noiseless steps when she was outside and somebody
called. She was a handsome girl, with very bright eyes, and fine and
warm-blooded into the bargain. One evening I came on her just by the
summer-house, where she stood sniffing at the lilacs; she started as I
came up, pointed warningly towards the summer-house, and ran off with her
tongue between her teeth.
The Captain was aware of Ragnhild's doings, and once said to his wife so
all might hear--he was drunk, no doubt, and annoyed at something or other:
"That Ragnhild's an underhanded creature; I'd be glad to be rid of her."
Fruen answered:
"It's not the first time you've wanted to get Ragnhild out of the way;
Heaven knows what for! She's the best maid we've ever had.
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