nker Kai got at first a galling disappointment, and
secondly, after the lapse of a twelve-month, a still richer Froeken from
the Isle of Fyen. The lord of Ansbjerg and his lady washed their hands
clean of their daughter, and, notwithstanding the humble and penitent
letters of her and her husband, were not to be reconciled.

THE HORSE-GARDEN

Near the west end of Ansbjerg wood there is an open space, consisting of
an extensive green, entirely surrounded by old venerable beeches.
Annually, on the first afternoon of Whitsuntide, the greater part of the
inhabitants of the neighbouring parishes are accustomed to assemble at
this spot. On that day many houses stand empty, and in many are left
only the blind and the bed-ridden; for the halt and crippled, provided
they lack not the sense of seeing, must once a-year enjoy themselves
amid the new fresh verdure, and--like Noah's dove--bring home a bright
green beechen bough to their dusky dwellings.

What joy! what shoals! The Horse-Garden--so is this trysting-place
named--at this time resembles a bee-hive; incessant bustle, endless
pressing backwards and forwards, in and out: every soul bent only on
sucking in the honey of joyousness, and imbibing the exhilarating summer
air. How they hasten, how they flutter from flower to flower! greet,
meet, separate, familiarly, gaily and hastily! How many a young swain
brings or finds here the lady of his heart! At a considerable distance
from the hive may be heard its ceaseless hum and tumult.

The nearer you approach, the more varied is the joyous uproar. The
monotonous hum resolves itself into shout, song, and laughter, rattling
of leaves, sound of fiddles and flutes. Swarms pour in and out on every
side of the green wood. The lower orders in their Sunday garments, the
higher classes in elegant summer attire, cavaliers in black, ladies in
white.

"Is there dancing here?"

"Oh, yes, here is a forest ball, a dance on the elastic greensward."

"Do you see that village fiddler by the large beech yonder, towering
high above the surrounding multitude? Do you see how rapidly his bow
dances up and down amid hats adorned with flowers? And there is a
regular country dance, a real Scottish!"

"Am I in the Deer-park, in Charlottenlund?"[17] you will ask. "See what
a number of carriages, elegant equipages, coachmen in livery, horses
with plated harness, tents with cold meat and confectionery, coffee-pots
on the fire, families reclining on t