"Yes, of course you have offended Tora--you offend every one. You are so capricious, you are so spoilt." "Yes, that is what I am!" came from the eider-down. "That is what you are. Frederik says so as well." "What does Frederik say?" Nora raised her red face quickly up from the eider-down. Frederik was an authority. "I will read it to you," answered the other, opening the desk, and taking out a letter of at least five sheets. "He writes," she said, as she turned to the fourth side of the fourth sheet, with the same calm deliberation with which she had opened the desk, looked for the letter, closed the desk again, and now read: "You must not be too severe with her either, for if that were her real nature, she would behave differently, and understand how to retain her worshippers. As it is, she is only a spoilt child, who has never done anything without being praised for it, and has besides become so capricious that she is tired to-day of those who praised her yesterday." "Oh dear! how true that is, Tinka." "But perhaps she will weary of caprice as well, for she certainly desires something more than that. I was impressed by that in the summer. But you must help her, Tinka." "Yes, you must." Nora had raised herself, and now sat on the edge of the bed. She had folded her hands, and looked at Tinka. "You must always be with me. I am not content with myself, when you are not with me. Oh, Tinka! I will never, never, never be like that again. If you see the slightest sign of it, you must take me to task for it. You know I do want to be something more than this. I want to be remarkable. Ah! don't laugh; in reality I have no wish to sing and make fun for the others, and be flattered and flattered; but it came so, I can't understand why. I don't want it; I wish to be able to do something, to take up something with an object. _Yes, that is what I want_. Sometimes I believe I must go off to the wars, or die with the Nihilists in Russia. Yes, I do believe it. Or else travel about and lecture; be hissed down and wounded. Yes, I could. I don't know why it should be, but I long for it. I don't say it to boast, Tinka, I only say it because I feel it so. Believe me, I do feel it in that way. If I fail, it will be because it is nothing but wishing; perhaps I am incapable of it. Well, all the same I have the wish. I have no wish for the sort of thing I do now, and for which I am praised. I have such an unconquerably strong, strong, strong longing."