The Lieutenant did not hurry them, he wanted them to see and enjoy as much as their eyes could take in. “Nobody here knows us, so gaze as long as you like,” said he. Mamselle Lovisa stopped before a milliner’s window, where a hat trimmed with white swansdown and pink rosebuds had caught her eye. There she stood, with Anna by the hand, as if rooted to the spot. And of course Lieutenant and Fru Lagerlöf, Johan, Back-Kaisa, and Selma were also obliged to stop before the swansdown hat. But Mamselle Lovisa was not thinking of them; she stood as in a trance. It tickled the Lieutenant to see her so carried away, though after a long, vain wait for her to “come back,” so to speak, he lost patience. “You’re not thinking of copying that hat, Lovisa?” he said. “Why, that’s more suitable for a girl of seventeen.” “It may be a pleasure perhaps for one who is not so young to look at pretty things,” retorted Mamselle Lovisa, who, though past her first youth, was still comely and rather elegant in her attire. When they were well away from the swansdown hat they came to a goldsmith’s shop. Now it was the Lieutenant who stopped first. As he stood feasting his eyes on the trays of sparkling rings and bracelets, shining silver spoons and goblets, and much else displayed in the window, he ejaculated innocent oaths of delight. “Here we’ll go in!” he said abruptly. “But, Gustaf!” Fru Lagerlöf protested, “we can’t be buying such things now.” She laid a restraining hand on his arm, for he had already opened the big plate-glass door of the shop and was stepping in. There was nothing for the others to do but follow. By the time they were all inside he was over at the counter talking to a young clerk. “No, thank you, I don’t wish to buy anything,” he said. “But, seeing so many choice things in the window, I thought I’d just step in and ask if I might also have a peep at the fine wares you have in the shop.” The clerk looked a bit uneasy, and seemed at a loss what to reply. Fru Lagerlöf and Mamselle Lovisa now stood with their hands on the Lieutenant’s shoulders, trying to drag him away. The goldsmith himself presently emerged from an inner room. He had evidently heard them come in, and probably thought he would do a brisk trade. Placing himself beside the clerk, he put the flat of his hands on the counter and inquired invitingly what was desired. Lieutenant Lagerlöf repeated in substance what he had said to the clerk--that he would very much like to see the beautiful wares in the place though he could not afford to purchase any. The goldsmith cocked his head and looked at the Lieutenant out of the corner of his eye. “The gentleman, I take it, is a Värmlander?” he said. “Hell, yes, of course I’m a Värmlander!” the Lieutenant wagged back. “What the deuce else should I be?”