in the eye and
a smile round the mouth, and for that reason she exhibited a certain
coldness toward the family to the great sorrow of the enamored Tage.

*****

On the morning of the following day Tage and his mother had gone to
look at the little museum of the town. They found the gate open, but the
doors to the collection locked; ringing the bell proved fruitless. The
gateway, however, gave admission to the not specially large court which
was surrounded by a freshly whitewashed arcade whose short squat columns
had black iron bars between them.

They walked about and looked at the objects placed along the wall: Roman
sepulchral monuments, pieces of sarcophagi, a headless draped figure,
the dorsal vertebra of a whale, and a series of architectural details.

On all the objects of interest there were fresh traces of the masons'
brushes.

By now they had come back to their starting point.

Tage ran up the stairs to see if there might not be people somewhere in
the house, and Mrs. Fonss in the meantime walked up and down the arcade.

As she was on the turn toward the gate a tall man with a bearded, tanned
face, appeared at the end of the passage directly in front of her. He
had a guide-book in his hand; he listened for something, and then looked
forward, straight at her.

The Englishman of yesterday immediately came to her mind.

"Pardon me?" he began interrogatively, and bowed.

"I am a stranger," Mrs. Fonss replied, "nobody seems to be at home, but
my son has just run upstairs to see whether...."

These words were exchanged in French.

At this moment Tage arrived. "I have been everywhere," he said, "even in
the living quarters, but didn't find as much as a cat."

"I hear," said the Englishman, this time in Danish, "that I have the
pleasure of being with fellow-countrymen."

He bowed again and retreated a couple of steps, as if to indicate that
he had merely said this to let them know that he understood what they
were saying. Suddenly he stepped closer than before with an intent,
eager expression on his face, and said to Mrs. Fonss, "is it possible
that you and I are old acquaintances?"

"Are you Emil Thorbrogger?" exclaimed Mrs. Fonss, and held out her hand.

He seized it. "Yes, I am he," he said gayly, "and you are she?"

His eyes almost filled with tears as he looked at her.

Mrs Fonss introduced Tage as her son.

Tage had never in his life heard mention of Thorbrogger, but that was
not his thoug