In her blue morning dress she passed through the little Dutch ante-room and stretched out her hand to open the door of the big drawing-room with the windows to the sea; but so excited was she that she had to pause to take breath--enjoying Jörgen's triumph the while. He was so carried away with his own music that she was quite close to him before he noticed her. He looked up, radiant--rose slowly, silently, as to a festal rite. This impression he would do nothing to destroy. He opened his arms, drew her into his embrace, kissed her hair gently, stroked the cheek that lay bare--slowly, protectingly. He was trying to shield, to hide, to help her with manly tenderness to overcome the feeling of shame from which she must be suffering. His whole attitude was tender and reassuring. "But we must hurry in to breakfast now," he whispered affectionately, kissing her beautiful hair again, and inhaling its fragrance. Then he passed his arm gently, yet in a controlling manner, round her waist. Near the door he said in a low tone: "You have slept well, since you come so late?" He opened the door with his disengaged hand, and, receiving no answer, looked sympathisingly at her. She was pale and confused. "My sweet one!" he whispered soothingly. At breakfast there was no end to his consideration for her, especially when it became evident that she could not eat. But time was short; he had to attend to himself; so he could not talk much. Mary did not say a word. But it struck her that Jörgen handled his knife and fork in a new, masterful manner, of a piece with that in which he now spoke to her and looked at her. He evidently desired to inspire her with courage--after what had happened last night. She could have taken her plate with what was on it and flung it in his face! His triumphal song had been in his own honour! He had been hymning his own worthiness! A decanter with wine stood on the table. Jörgen poured out a large glass, drank it slowly, and rose with a dignified: "Excuse me!" adding in the doorway: "I must look if the boy has taken my portmanteau." In a moment he was back again. "Time is almost up." He closed the door, and hurried across the room to Mary, who was now standing at the window. This time he drew her quickly into his arms and began to kiss. "No more of that, please!" she said with all her old queenliness, and turned away from him. She walked proudly into the hall, put on her coat with the assistance of the maid who hastened to help, chose a hat, looked out to see the state of the weather, and then took her parasol. The maid opened the front door. Mary passed out quickly, Jörgen following, mortally offended. He was unconscious of any transgression. They walked on for a time silent. But Mary was in such a state of suppressed rage that when she at last remembered to put up her parasol, she almost broke it. Jörgen saw this.