I glanced across at Fruen. Her eyes were blazing, her cheeks flushed, as she moved to leave the room. But in the doorway she turned, and now her face was pale. She seemed to have formed her resolution already. Speaking over her shoulder, she said to her husband: “I shouldn't be surprised if Ragnhild's eyes were a little too bright.” “Eh?” says the Captain, in surprise. “Yes,” says Fruen, with a slight laugh, nodding over towards the table where we sat. “She's getting a little too friendly with the men out here.” Silence. “So perhaps she'd better go,” Fruen went on. It was incomparable audacity on Fruen's part, of course, to say such a thing to our face, but we could not protest; we saw she was only using us to serve her need. When we got outside, Nils said angrily: “I'm not sure but I'd better go back and say a word or two myself about that.” But I dissuaded him, saying it was not worth troubling about. A few days passed. Again the Captain found an opportunity of paying barefaced compliments to Ragnhild: “... with a figure like yours,” he said. And the tone of everything about the house now--badly changed from of old. Gone down, grown poorer year by year, no doubt, drunken guests doing their share to help, and idleness and indifference and childlessness for the rest. In the evening, Ragnhild came to me and told me she was given notice; Fruen had made some reference to me, and that was all. Once more a piece of underhand work. Fruen knew well I should not be long on the place; why not make me the scapegoat? She was determined to upset her husband's calculations, that was the matter. Ragnhild, by the way, took it to heart a good deal, and sobbed and dabbed her eyes. But after a while she comforted herself with the thought that, as soon as I was gone, Fruen would take back her dismissal and let her stay. I, for my part, was inwardly sure that Fruen would do nothing of the kind. Yes, the Captain and Elisabet might be content: the troublesome parlour-maid was to be sent packing, surely enough. * * * * * But who was to know? I might be out in my reckoning after all. New happenings set me questioning anew; ay, forced me to alter my judgment once again. 'Tis a sorely difficult thing to judge the truth of humankind. I learned now, beyond doubt, that Fru Falkenberg was truly and honestly jealous of her husband; not merely pretending to be, as so by way of covering her own devious ways. Far, indeed, from any pretence here. True, she did not really believe for a moment that he was interested in her maid. But it suited her purpose to pretend she did; in her extremity, she would use any means that came to hand. She had blushed during that scene in the kitchen; yes, indeed, but that was a sudden and natural indignation at her husband's ill-chosen words, nothing more.