wo rooms.

The lady began a search in one of the trunks, from which she rose with a
white lace neckerchief in her hand, saying: "This will suit you better
than the one you have on, for that is not at all becoming," and taking
off the one Magnhild wore, she tied on the other in a graceful bow, and
Magnhild felt herself that it harmonized well with her red dress.

"But how have you your hair? You have an oval face and your hair done up
in that way? No"--and before Magnhild could offer any resistance she was
pressed down into a chair. "Now I shall"--and the lady commenced undoing
the hair. Magnhild started up, fiery red and frightened, and said
something which was met with a firm: "Certainly not!"

It seemed as though a strong will emanated from the lady's words, arms,
fingers. Magnhild's hair was unfastened, spread out, brushed, then drawn
loosely over the head and done up in a low knot.

"Now see!" and the mirror was held up before Magnhild.

All this increased the young woman's embarrassment to such a degree that
she scarcely realized whose was the image in the glass. The elegant lady
standing in front of her, the delicate perfume, the child at her knee
who with its earnest eyes fixed on her said, "Now you are pretty!"--and
the guest at the opposite window who at this moment looked down and
smiled. Magnhild started up, and was about to make her escape, but the
lady only threw her arms around her and drew her farther into the room.

"Pray, do not be so bashful! We are going to have such a nice time
together;" and once more her attention was full of that sweetness the
like of which Magnhild had never known. "Run over now after your hat and
we will start!"

Magnhild did as she was bid. But no sooner was she alone than a sense of
oppression, a troubled anxiety, wrung her heart, and the lady seemed
detestable, officious; even her kindness was distorted into a lack of
moderation; Magnhild failed to find the exact word to express what
distressed her.

"Well? Are you not coming?"

These words were uttered by the lady, who in a jaunty hat, with waving
plume, beamed in through the window. She tossed back her curls, and
drew on her gloves. "That hat becomes you very well indeed," said she.
"Come now!"

And Magnhild obeyed.

The little girl attached herself to Magnhild.

"I am going with you," said she.

Magnhild failed to notice this, because she had just heard steps on the
stairs. Tande, the composer, was coming t