Ever since Ingrid had recognised the student in the poor crazy fellow, she had no other thought but that of trying to cure him; but this was a difficult task, and she had no idea whatever as to how she should set about it. To begin with, she only thought of how she could persuade him to remain at Munkhyttan; and this was easy enough. Only for the sake of hearing her play the violin or the guitar a little every day he would now sit patiently from morning till evening in Miss Stafva's room waiting for her. She thought it would be a great thing if she could get him to go into the other rooms, but that she could not. She tried keeping in her room, and said she would not play any more for him if he did not come to her. But after she had remained there two days, he began to pack up his pack to go away, and then she was obliged to give in. He showed great preference for her, and distinctly showed that he liked her better than others; but she did not make him less frightened. She begged him to leave off his sheepskin coat, and wear an ordinary coat. He consented at once, but the next day he had it on again. Then she hid it from him; but he then appeared in the man-servant's skin coat. So then they would rather let him keep his own. He was still as frightened as ever, and took great care no one came too near him. Even Ingrid was not allowed to sit quite close to him. One day she said to him that now he must promise her something: he must give over curtsying to the cat. She would not ask him to do anything so difficult as give up curtsying to horses and dogs, but surely he could not be afraid of a little cat. Yes, he said; the cat was a goat. 'It can't be a goat,' she said; 'it has no horns, you know.' He was pleased to hear that. It seemed as if at last he had found something by which he could distinguish a goat from other animals. The next day he met Miss Stafva's cat. 'That goat has no horns,' he said; and laughed quite proudly. He went past it, and sat down on the sofa to listen to Ingrid playing. But after he had sat a little while he grew restless, and he rose, went up to the cat, and curtsied. Ingrid was in despair. She took him by his arm and shook him. He ran straight out of the room, and did not appear until the next day. 'Child, child,' said her ladyship, 'you do exactly as I did; you try the same as I did. It will end by your frightening him so that he dare not see you any more. It is better to leave him in peace. We are satisfied with things as they are if he will only remain at home.' There was nothing else for Ingrid to do but wring her hands in sorrow that such a fine, lovable fellow should be concealed in this crazy man. Ingrid thought again and again, had she really only come here to play her grandfather's tunes to him? Should they go on like that all through life? Would it never be otherwise?