Nay, I shall give the mansion stout walls and huge windows of plate-glass; and then at night, when the winter storms are raging and the fjord is tossing below, we shall draw the curtains over the windows, and heap up a roaring fire (I shall make enormous fireplaces, you know--large enough to hold whole trunks of trees, whole beams of pine). ~His Wife.~~ Ah! it will be warm enough _then_. ~The Man.~~ Yes, indeed; and the whole interior will be quiet and restful, for I mean to have soft carpets everywhere, and the walls lined with thousands and thousands of books, and everything looking snug and cheerful. And you and I will sit before the fire on a white bearskin; and when you say to me, "Shall we go and look at the storm?" I shall answer, "Yes," and we shall run to the largest of the great windows, and draw aside the curtains: and then, my God, what a night it will look like. ~His Wife.~~ Snowflakes whirling by! ~The Man.~~ Yes; like little white horses galloping, or myriads of tiny, frightened souls, pale with fear and seeking shelter in the night. And there will be such a howling and a roaring! ~His Wife.~~ And I shall say that I am cold, and give a shiver. ~The Man.~~ And then we shall scamper back to the fire, and I shall call aloud, "Ho, there! Bring me the ancestral goblet--the one of pure gold from which Vikings have drunk--and fill it with aureate wine, and let us drain the soul-warming draught to the dregs!" Meanwhile we shall have had a chamois roasting on the spit, and again I shall call aloud, "Ho, there! Bring hither the venison, that we may eat it!" Yes, and in about two seconds I shall be eating _you_, little wife, for I am as hungry as the devil. ~His Wife.~~ Well, suppose they have brought the roast chamois? Go on. What next? ~The Man.~~ What next? Well, once I have begun to eat it, there will soon be little of it left--and therefore nothing more to tell. But what are you doing to my head, little playmate? ~His Wife.~~ I am the Goddess of Fame. I have woven you a chaplet of the oak-leaves which the neighbours brought, and am crowning you with it. Thus shall fame--yes, real, resounding fame-some day be yours. [_She crowns him with the chaplet._] ~The Man.~~ Yes, fame, fame, resplendent fame! Look here on the wall as I draw. This is myself advancing. Do you see? But who is that with me? ~His Wife.~~ I! ~The Man.~~ Yes. And see how people are bowing down to us, and whispering about us, and pointing us out with their fingers. Here is a city father shedding tears of joy as he exclaims, "Happy is our town to have been the birthplace of such children!" Here, too, a certain young man turns pale with emotion as he gazes upon his handiwork; for fortune has smiled upon him at last, and he has built a City Hall that is the pride of all the land. ~His Wife.~~