They were about to start for home after a long evening when there had been a great deal too much music for those small rooms; she hastened to get on her wraps and get away. Here he took her arm. "It is fortunate," said he, "that the moon is just up." She thought they would have got into one of the sledges that stood waiting there, or into a carriage that just then drove up; she gave a little scream, as it was quite smooth ice just by the door, yet she went on bravely. Meanwhile they passed by one sledge after the other, and the carriage, too. None seemed to be theirs. "Are we not going to drive?" asked she. The rogue laughed; it was he who had planned this walk. She tried to hide her disappointment; but, after a few vain efforts, begged to be allowed to drive. Then he recollected how frightened she had been that first time; his conscience pricked him, and he declared they would go to the very first stand, which was not far off. The road was not so very slippery, but it was steep; she clung to his arm, staring nervously before her, with an occasional little scream. Matters did not mend as they advanced, for at times the whole road was covered with ice, though there were always one or two safe spots. He rather lost courage; especially as he no longer heard her little screams. He had never seen anyone so frightened before. As a matter of course, they made their way slowly, step by step, with many and long pauses. Some of the gardens and fields round about them were bare, and some were covered with snow and ice; it was to these she tried to make her way; but he showed her that the way was stopped either by a house or a garden; it was not like in the country. The fields looked broken up, the sky, too, for long, narrow, cloudlets were floating through the dark-blue atmosphere above, exactly like ice down below here with gaps between. The moon seemed to be racing after the cloudlets at full speed, trying to overtake them, pass through and hurry still farther on; there must be a perfect hurricane up above; down below all was quiet. Kallem's mistake made him feel both uneasy and unhappy. The unsteady light there was over the whole of nature, with its scattered colouring only increased this feeling; surely something would go wrong. And never did that feeling come over him without its bringing back to his remembrance that night of terror from his childhood, with all its consequences. Was this to follow him all through life, this terrifying forewarning of his own wrong-doings? He was greatly excited; for she must not be allowed to fall. If it had not been for her timidity he would have gone down the hills in a merry, sliding dance; now her being frightened made him frightened too. Each slippery place became a real danger, from which he was only saved by passing on to a fresh one; they neither looked at each other nor did they utter a word, they were impatient and afraid. They were several minutes in doing what otherwise