e them to quarrel in this way!" said the merchant's lady. "Heiberg
will doubtless get his share also, and then he will reply in something
merry."

"Yes," said Mr. Berger, "he always knows how to twist things in such a
manner that one must laugh, and then it is all one to us whether he is
right or not."

"This book is entirely for Heiberg," said Otto. "The author is
anonymous, and a clever man."

"Good Heavens! you are not the author, Mr. Thostrup?" cried Julle, and
looked at him with a penetrating gaze. "You can manage such things
so secretly! You think so highly of Heiberg: I remember well all the
beautiful things you said of his 'Walter the Potter' and his 'Psyche.'"

Otto assured her that he could not confess to this honor.

They reached Roeskelde in the forenoon, but Eva did not receive them.
The excursion to Lethraborg was arranged; toward evening they should
again return to the inn, and then Eva would certainly appear.

The company walked in the garden at Lethraborg: the prospect from the
terrace was beautiful; they looked through the windows of the castle,
and at length came to the conclusion that it would be best to go in.

"There are such beautiful paintings, people say!" remarked the lover.

"We must see them," cried all the ladies.

"Do you often visit the picture-gallery of the Christiansborg?" inquired
Otto.

"I cannot say that we do!" returned Mrs. Berger. "You well know that
what is near one seldom sees, unless one makes a downright earnest
attempt, and that we have not yet done. Besides, not many people go up:
that wandering about the great halls is so wearying."

"There are splendid pieces by Ruysdal!" said Otto.

"Salvator Rosa's glorious 'Jonas' is well worth looking at!"

"Yes, we really must go at once, whilst our little Maja is here. It does
not cost more than the Exhibition, and we were there three times last
year. The view from the castle windows toward the canal, as well as
toward the ramparts, is so beautiful, they say."

The company now viewed the interior of Lethraborg, and then wandered
through the garden and in the wood. The trees had their autumnal
coloring, but the whole presented a variety of tints far richer than one
finds in summer. The dark fir-trees, the yellow beeches and oaks, whose
outermost branches had sent forth light green shoots, presented a most
picturesque effect, and formed a splendid foreground to the view over
old Leire, the royal city, now a small villag