And he knelt on the grass before the two ladies, and instead of taking his hat off and laying it before him he held it straight up in the air with one hand, and emptied his glass with his head bent back. I was altogether carried away by his wonderful ease of manner, and would have drunk with him myself but that his glass was empty. Edwarda was following him with her eyes. I placed myself near her, and said: “Shall we play '_Enke_' to-day?” She started slightly, and got up. “Be careful not to say '_Du_' to each other now,” she whispered. Now I had not said “_Du_” at all. I walked away. Another hour passed. The day was getting long; I would have rowed home alone long before if there had been a third boat; Æsop lay tied up in the hut, and perhaps he was thinking of me. Edwarda's thoughts must surely be far away from me; she talked of how lovely it would be to travel, and see strange places; her cheeks flushed at the thought, and she even stumbled in her speech: “No one could be more happier than I the day ...” “'More happier'...?” said the Doctor. “What?” said she. “'More happier.'” “I don't understand.” “You said 'more happier,' I think.” “Did I? I'm sorry. No one could be happier than I the day I stood on board the ship. Sometimes I long for places I do not know myself.” She longed to be away; she did not think of me. I stood there, and read in her face that she had forgotten me. Well, there was nothing to be said--but I stood there myself and saw it in her face. And the minutes dragged so miserably slowly by! I asked several of the others if we ought not to row back now; it was getting late, I said, and Æsop was tied up in the hut. But none of them wanted to go back. I went over again to the Dean's daughter, for the third time; I thought she must be the one that had said I had eyes like an animal's. We drank together; she had quivering eyes, they were never still; she kept looking at me and then looking away, all the time. “Fröken,” I said, “do you not think people here in these parts are like the short summer itself? In their feeling, I mean? Beautiful, but lasting only a little while?” I spoke loudly, very loudly, and I did so on purpose. And I went on speaking loudly, and asked that young lady once more if she would not like to come up one day and see my hut. “Heaven bless you for it,” I said in my distress, and I was already thinking to myself how, perhaps, I might find something to give her as a present if she came. Perhaps I had nothing to give her but my powder-horn, I thought. And she promised to come.