“What!” said the officer angrily, sitting up as he spoke; “and pray who are you, then, that venture to introduce yourself here at this hour?” The young man displayed his papers. “I wish to see Count Griffenfeld,--I would say, your prisoner.” “The Count! the Count!” muttered the officer in some displeasure. “But, to be sure, this paper is in order; here is the signature of Vice-Chancellor Grummond de Knud. ‘Admit the bearer to visit all the royal prisons at any hour and at any time.’ Grummond de Knud is brother to old General Levin de Knud, who is in command at Throndhjem, and you must know that this old general had the bringing up of my future brother-in-law.” “Thanks for these family details, Lieutenant. Don’t you think you have told me enough of them?” “The impertinent fellow is right,” said the lieutenant, biting his lips. “Hullo, there, officer, officer of the tower! Escort this stranger to Schumacker, and do not scold if I have taken down your lamp with three beaks and but one wick. I was curious to examine an article which is doubtless the work of Sciold the Pagan or Havar the giant-killer; and besides it is no longer the fashion to hang anything but crystal chandeliers from the ceiling.” With these words, as the young man and his escort crossed the deserted donjon garden, the martyr to fashion resumed the thread of the love adventures of the Amazonian Clelia and Horatius the One-eyed. IV. _Benvolio._ Where the devil should this Romeo be? Came he not home to-night? _Mercutio._ Not to his father’s; I spoke with his man. SHAKESPEARE: _Romeo and Juliet._ A man and two horses entered the courtyard of the palace of the governor of Throndhjem. The horseman dismounted, shaking his head with a discontented air. He was about to lead the two animals to the stable, when his arm was seized, and a voice cried: “How! You here alone, Poël! And your master,--where is your master?” It was old General Levin de Knud, who, seeing from his window the young man’s servant and the empty saddle, descended quickly, and fastened upon the groom a gaze which betrayed even more alarm than his question. “Your Excellency,” said Poël, with a low bow, “my master has left Throndhjem.” “What! has he been here, and gone again without seeing his general, without greeting his old friend! And how long since?” “He arrived this evening and left this evening.” “This evening,--this very evening! But where did he stay? Where has he gone?” “He stopped at the Spladgest, and has embarked for Munkholm.” “Ah! I supposed he was at the antipodes. But what is his business at that castle? What took him to the Spladgest? Just like my knight-errant. After all, I am rather to blame, for why did I give him such a bringing up? I wanted him to be free in spite of his rank.” “Therefore he is no slave to etiquette,” said Poël.