'We have kept Christmas as we always do,' said Miss Stafva. 'Her ladyship sits knitting in her room day after day, thinks of nothing but her son, and does not even know that it is a festival. Christmas Eve we allowed to pass like any other day--no presents and no candles.' 'No Christmas tree, no Christmas fare?' 'Nor any going to church; not so much as a candle in the windows on Christmas morning.' 'Why should her ladyship honour God's Son when God will not heal her son?' said Mistress Sorrow. 'No, why should she?' 'He is at home at present, I suppose? Perhaps he is better now?' 'No, he is no better. He is as much afraid of things as ever.' 'Does he still behave like a peasant? Does he never go into the rooms?' 'We cannot get him to go into the rooms; he is afraid of her ladyship, as the honoured mistress knows.' 'He has his meals in the kitchen, and sleeps in the men-servants' room?' 'Yes, he does.' 'And you have no idea how to cure him?' 'We know nothing, we understand nothing.' Mistress Sorrow was silent for a moment; when she spoke again there was a hard, sharp ring in her voice: 'This is all right as far as it goes, Miss Stafva; but I am not quite satisfied with you, all the same.' The same moment she turned round and looked sharply at Ingrid. Ingrid shuddered. Mistress Sorrow had a little, wrinkled face, the under part of which was so doubled up that one could hardly see the lower jaw. She had teeth like a saw, and thick hair on the upper lip. Her eyebrows were one single tuft of hair, and her skin was quite brown. Ingrid thought Miss Stafva could not see what she saw: Mistress Sorrow was not a human being; she was only an animal. Mistress Sorrow opened her mouth and showed her glittering teeth when she looked at Ingrid. 'When this girl came here,' she said to Miss Stafva, 'you thought she had been sent by God. You thought you could see from her eyes that she had been sent by Our Lord to save him. She knew how to manage mad people. Well, how has it worked?' 'It has not worked at all. She has not done anything.' 'No, I have seen to that,' said Mistress Sorrow. 'It was my doing that you did not tell her why she was allowed to stay here. Had she known that, she would not have indulged in such rosy dreams about seeing her beloved. If she had not had such expectations, she would not have had such a bitter disappointment. Had disappointment not paralyzed her, she could perhaps have done something for this mad fellow. But now she has not even been to see him. She hates him because he is not the one she expected him to be. That is my doing, Miss Stafva, my doing.' 'Yes; the honoured mistress knows her business,' said Miss Stafva. Mistress Sorrow took her lace handkerchief and dried her red-rimmed eyes. It looked as if it were meant for an expression of joy.