Biorn Hindriksson was so old that he remembered Herr Olavus, the first Lövdala Pastor, and his wife, Fru Katrina Hesselgren, and he had never lost the respect he had for them. As long as there was still a descendant of Herr Olavus in the parish she must come to the marriage feast if it were not to be shorn of half its glory. He would not accept the excuse that the Pastor’s daughter could not leave home on her Grandmother’s account, and asked at once if one of the maids could not have given an eye to Fru Beata for that day at least. Besides, she was not on her death-bed! His tone of voice showed plainly enough that he was really sorry, and not speaking just for form’s sake. Glad as he was to see the Pastor’s new wife, it could nevertheless not be denied that she did not belong to the old Parsonage family. The Pastor’s wife replied that she had been of the same opinion as he, and said so too. But there it was: the Pastor’s daughter was so bound up in the old lady that it was a sheer impossibility to get her away if her Grandmother was the least ailing. Now the Pastor’s wife had taken off her wraps and knew in her own mind that she was a fine-looking woman and well dressed too, so that they might search the land for a more dignified Pastor’s wife. And yet these peasant folk seemed to have no eyes for her at all. Biorn Hindriksson’s wife wondered why Fru Beata herself had not made her granddaughter go. She must have known that not a wedding had taken place in their time where one of the old Pastor’s family had not danced with the bride. The Pastor’s wife drew herself up and answered sharply that she had not known it was a matter of such moment, or she herself would have stayed at home instead. However, she would drive home, now at once, and then Maia Lisa could come. With that the Pastor’s wife won the day. The peasant hosts were terribly vexed that they had offended her, and ended by begging and praying her to stay. But it was the same question and answer over and over again when she went upstairs to the large room where she had to go round shaking hands with all the guests, who stood leaning against the walls, waiting for the marriage ceremony. She had been cold all day, but she was soon warm enough now. There was no end to their questions about Maia Lisa until she took her place on the sofa. The two most important peasants’ wives sat on either side of her, and they were silent as wax figures. They knew, indeed, that it was no fitting time to chatter when they were sitting and waiting for anything so solemn as the marriage service! She felt that her cheeks were flaming red. How they had all attacked her! They had not plagued the Pastor with their questions. Did they think that he no longer had any voice in the matter?