u were before.
Now I do not know what to think, and so you must write, for it will not
be well with me until you do. Just now I remember best about your
coming to the cliff that last evening and what you said then. I will
say no more this time, and so farewell.
Most respectfully,
OYVIND PLADSEN.

TO OYVIND THORESEN PLADSEN:--
The school-master has given me another letter from you, and I have
just read it, but I do not understand it in the least, and that, I dare
say, is because I am not learned. You want to know how it is with me
in every respect; and I am healthy and well, and there is nothing at
all the matter with me. I eat heartily, especially when I get milk
porridge. I sleep at night, and occasionally in the day-time too. I
have danced a great deal this winter, for there have been many parties
here, and that has been very pleasant. I go to church when the snow is
not too deep; but we have had a great deal of snow this winter. Now, I
presume, you know everything, and if you do not, I can think of nothing
better than for you to write to me once more.
MARIT KNUDSDATTER.

TO THE MOST HONORED MAIDEN, MARIT KNUDSDATTER HEIDEGARDS:--
I have received your letter, but you seem inclined to leave me no
wiser than I was before. Perhaps this may be meant for an answer. I
do not know. I dare not write anything that I wish to write, for I do
not know you. But possibly you do not know me either.
You must not think that I am any longer the soft cheese you
squeezed the water away from when I sat watching you dance. I have
laid on many shelves to dry since that time. Neither am I like those
long-haired dogs who drop their ears at the least provocation and take
flight from people, as in former days. I can stand fire now.
Your letter was very playful, but it jested where it should not
have jested at all, for you understood me very well, and you could see
that I did not ask in sport, but because of late I can think of nothing
else than the subject I questioned you about. I was waiting in deep
anxiety, and there came to me only foolery and laughter.
Farewell, Marit Heidegards, I shall not look at you too much, as I
did at that dance. May you both eat well, and sleep well, and get your
new web finished, and above all, may you be able to shovel away the
snow which lies in front of the church-door.
Most respectfully,