She heard the street door close, and the lackey6 cleared the table. Ulrik Frederik’s favorite dogs, Nero, Passando, Rumor7, and Delphine, had been locked in, and ran about the room, whimpering and sniffing8 his tracks. She tried to call them, but could not for weeping. Passando, the tall red fox-hound, came to her; she knelt down to stroke and caress9 the dog, but he wagged his tail in an absent-minded way, looked up into her face, and went on howling.
Those first days—how empty every thing was and dreary10! The time dragged slowly, and the solitude11 seemed to hang over her, heavy and oppressive, while her longing12 would sometimes burn like salt in an open wound. Ay, it was so at first, but presently all this was no longer new, and the darkness and emptiness, the longing and grief, came again and again like snow that falls flake13 upon flake, until it seemed to wrap her in a strange, dull hopelessness, - 121 - almost a numbness14 that made a comfortable shelter of her sorrow.
Suddenly all was changed. Every nerve was strung to the most acute sensitiveness, every vein15 throbbing16 with blood athirst for life, and her fancy teemed17 like the desert air with colorful images and luring18 forms. On such days she was like a prisoner who sees youth slip by, spring after spring, barren, without bloom, dull and empty, always passing, never coming. The sum of time seemed to be counted out with hours for pennies; at every stroke of the clock one fell rattling19 at her feet, crumbled20, and was dust, while she would wring22 her hands in agonized23 life-hunger and scream with pain.
She appeared but seldom at court or in the homes of her family, for etiquette24 demanded that she should keep to the house. Nor was she in the mood to welcome visitors, and as they soon ceased coming, she was left entirely25 to herself. This lonely brooding and fretting26 soon brought on an indolent torpor27, and she would sometimes lie in bed for days and nights at a stretch, trying to keep in a state betwixt waking and sleeping, which gave rise to fantastic visions. Far clearer than the misty28 dream pictures of healthy sleep, these images filled the place of the life she was missing.
Her irritability29 grew with every day, and the slightest noise was torture. Sometimes she would be seized with the strangest notions and with sudden mad impulses that might almost raise a doubt of her sanity30. Indeed, there was perhaps but the width of a straw between madness and that curious longing to do some desperate deed, merely for the sake of doing it, without the least reason or even real desire for it.
Sometimes, when she stood at the open window, leaning - 122 - against the casement31 and looking down into the paved court below, she would feel an overmastering impulse to throw herself down, merely to do it. But in that very second she seemed to have actually made the leap in her imagination and to have felt the cool, incisive32 tingling33 that accompanies a jump from a height. She darted34 back from the window to the inmost corner of the room, shaking with horror, the image of herself lying in her own blood on the hard stones so vivid in her mind that she had to go back to the window again and look down in order to drive it away.
Less dangerous and of a somewhat different nature was the fancy that would seize her when she looked at her own bare arm and traced, in a kind of fascination35, the course of the blue and deep-violet veins36 under the white skin. She wanted to set her teeth in that white roundness, and she actually followed her impulse, biting like a fierce little animal mark upon mark, till she felt the pain and would stop and begin to fondle the poor maltreated arm.
At other times, when she was sitting quietly, she would be suddenly moved to go in and undress, only that she might wrap herself in a thick quilt of red silk and feel the smooth, cool surface against her skin, or put an ice-cold steel blade down her naked back. Of such whims37 she had many.
Finally, after an absence of fourteen months, Ulrik Frederik returned. It was a July night, and Marie lay sleepless38, listening to the slow soughing of the wind, restless with anxious thoughts. For the last week she had been expecting Ulrik Frederik every hour of the day and night, longing for his arrival and fearing it. Would everything be as in olden times—fourteen months ago? Sometimes she thought no, then again yes. The truth was, she could not - 123 - quite forgive him for that trip to Spain. She felt that she had aged39 in this long time, had grown timid and listless, while he would come fresh from the glamor40 and stir, full of youth and high spirits, finding her pale and faded, heavy of step and of mind, nothing like her old self. At first he would be strange and cold to her; she would feel all the more cast down, and he would turn from her, but she would never forsake41 him. No, no, she would watch over him like a mother, and when the world went against him he would come back to her, and she would comfort him and be kind to him, bear want for his sake, suffer and weep, do everything for him. At other times she thought that as soon as she saw him all must be as before; yes, they romped42 through the rooms like madcap pages; the walls echoed their laughter and revelry, the corners whispered of their kisses—
With this fancy in her mind she fell into a light sleep. Her dreams were of noisy frolic, and when she awoke the noise was still there. Quick steps sounded on the stairs, the street door was thrown open, doors slammed, coaches rumbled21, and horses’ hoofs scraped the cobblestones.
There he is! she thought, sprang up, caught the large quilt, and wrapping it round her, ran through the rooms. In the large parlor43 she stopped. A tallow dip was burning in a wooden candlestick on the floor, and a few of the tapers44 had been lit in the sconces, but the servant in his flurry had run away in the midst of his preparations. Some one was speaking outside. It was Ulrik Frederik’s voice, and she trembled with emotion.
The door was opened, and he rushed in, still wearing his hat and cloak. He would have caught her in his arms, but got only her hand, as she darted back. He looked so strange in his unfamiliar45 garb46. He was tanned and stouter47 than of - 124 - old, and under his cloak he wore a queer dress, the like of which she had never seen. It was the new fashion of long waistcoat and fur-bordered coat, which quite changed his figure and made him still more unlike his old self.
“Marie!” he cried, “dear girl!” and he drew her to him, wrenching48 her wrist till she moaned with pain. He heard nothing. He was flustered49 with drink; for the night was not warm, and they had baited well in the last tavern50. Marie’s struggles were of no avail, he kissed and fondled her wildly, immoderately. At last she tore herself away and ran into the next room, her cheeks flushed, her bosom51 heaving, but thinking that perhaps this was rather a queer welcome, she came back to him.
Ulrik Frederik was standing52 in the same spot, quite bewildered between his efforts to make his fuddled brain comprehend what was happening and his struggles to unhook the clasps of his cloak. His thoughts and his hands were equally helpless. When Marie went to him and unfastened his cloak, it occurred to him that perhaps it was all a joke, and he burst into a loud laugh, slapped his thigh53, writhed54 and staggered, threatened Marie archly, and laughed with maudlin55 good nature. He was plainly trying to express something funny that had caught his fancy, started but could not find the words, and at last sank down on a chair, groaning56 and gasping58, while a broad, fatuous59 smile spread over his face.
Gradually the smile gave place to a sottish gravity. He rose and stalked up and down in silent, displeased60 majesty61, planted himself by the grate in front of Marie, one arm akimbo, the other resting on the mantel, and—still in his cups—looked down at her condescendingly. He made a long, potvaliant speech about his own greatness and the honor that had been shown him abroad, about the good fortune - 125 - that had befallen Marie when she, a common nobleman’s daughter, had become the bride of a man who might have brought home a princess of the blood. Without the slightest provocation62, he went on to impress upon Marie that he meant to be master of his own house, and she must obey his lightest nod, he would brook63 no gainsaying64, no, not a word, not one. However high he might raise her, she would always be his slave, his little slave, his sweet little slave, and at that he became as gentle as a sportive lynx, wept and wheedled65. With all the importunity67 of a drunken man he forced upon her gross caresses68 and vulgar endearments69, unavoidable, inescapable.
The next morning Marie awoke long before Ulrik Frederik. She looked almost with hatred70 on the sleeping figure at her side. Her wrist was swollen71 and ached from his violent greeting of the night before. He lay with muscular arms thrown back under his powerful, hairy neck. His broad chest rose and fell, breathing, it seemed to her, a careless defiance72, and there was a vacant smile of satiety73 on his dull, moist lips.
She paled with anger and reddened with shame as she looked at him. Almost a stranger to her after their long parting, he had forced himself upon her, demanding her love as his right, cocksure that all the devotion and passion of her soul were his, just as he would be sure of finding his furniture standing where he left it when he went out. Confident of being missed, he had supposed that all her longings75 had taken wing from her trembling lips to him in the distance, and that the goal of all her desire was his own broad breast.
When Ulrik Frederik came out he found her half sitting, half reclining on a couch in the blue room. She was pale, - 126 - her features relaxed, her eyes downcast, and the injured hand lay listlessly in her lap wrapped in a lace handkerchief. He would have taken it, but she languidly held out her left hand to him and leaned her head back with a pained smile.
Ulrik Frederik kissed the hand she gave him and made a joking excuse for his condition the night before, saying that he had never been decently drunk all the time he had been in Spain, for the Spaniards knew nothing about drinking. Besides, if the truth were told, he liked the homemade alicant and malaga wine from Johan Lehn’s dram-shop and Bryhans’ cellar better than the genuine sweet devilry they served down there.
Marie made no reply.
The breakfast table was set, and Ulrik Frederik asked if they should not fall to, but she begged him to pardon her letting him eat alone. She wanted nothing, and her hand hurt; he had quite bruised76 it. When his guilt77 was thus brought home to him he was bound to look at the injured hand and kiss it, but Marie quickly hid it in a fold of her dress, with a glance—he said—like a tigress defending her helpless cub78. He begged long, but it was of no use, and at last he sat down to the table laughing, and ate with an appetite that roused a lively displeasure in Marie. Yet he could not sit still. Every few minutes he would jump up and run to the window to look out; for the familiar street scenes seemed to him new and curious. With all this running, his breakfast was soon scattered79 about the room, his beer in one window, the bread-knife in another, his napkin slung80 over the vase of the gilded81 Gueridon, and a bun on the little table in the corner.
At last he had done eating and settled down at the window. - 127 - As he looked out, he kept talking to Marie, who from her couch made brief answers or none at all. This went on for a little while, until she came over to the window where he sat, sighed, and gazed out drearily82.
Ulrik Frederik smiled and assiduously turned his signet ring round on his finger. “Shall I breathe on the sick hand?” he asked in a plaintive83, pitying tone.
Marie tore the handkerchief from her hand and continued to look out without a word.
“’Twill take cold, the poor darling,” he said, glancing up.
Marie stood resting the injured hand carelessly on the window-sill. Presently she began drumming with her fingers as on a keyboard, back and forth84, from the sunshine into the shadow of the casement, then from the shadow to the sunlight again.
Ulrik Frederik looked on with a smile of pleasure at the beautiful pale hand as it toyed on the casement, gamboled like a frisky85 kitten, crouched86 as for a spring, set its back, darted toward the bread-knife, turned the handle round and round, crawled back, lay flat on the window-sill, then stole softly toward the knife again, wound itself round the hilt, lifted the blade to let it play in the sunlight, flew up with the knife—
In a flash the knife descended87 on his breast, but he warded88 it off, and it simply cut through his long lace cuff89 into his sleeve, as he hurled90 it to the floor and sprang up with a cry of horror, upsetting his chair, all in a second as with a single motion.
Marie was pale as death. She pressed her hands against her breast, and her eyes were fixed91 in terror on the spot where Ulrik Frederik had been sitting. A harsh, lifeless - 128 - laughter forced itself between her lips, and she sank down on the floor, noiselessly and slowly, as if supported by invisible hands. While she stood playing with the knife, she had suddenly noticed that the lace of Ulrik Frederik’s shirt had slipped aside, revealing his chest, and a senseless impulse had come over her to plunge92 the bright blade into that white breast, not from any desire to kill or wound, but only because the knife was cold and the breast warm, or perhaps because her hand was weak and aching while the breast was strong and sound, but first and last because she could not help it, because her will had no power over her brain and her brain no power over her will.
Ulrik Frederik stood pale, supporting his palms on the table, which shook under his trembling till the dishes slid and rattled93. As a rule, he was not given to fear nor wanting in courage, but this thing had come like a bolt out of the blue, so utterly94 senseless and incomprehensible that he could only look on the unconscious form stretched on the floor by the window with the same terror that he would have felt for a ghost. Burrhi’s words about the danger that gleamed in the hand of a woman rang in his ears, and he sank to his knees praying; for all reasonable security, all common-sense safeguards seemed gone from this earthly life together with all human foresight95. Clearly the heavens themselves were taking sides; unknown spirits ruled, and fate was determined96 by supernatural powers and signs. Why else should she have tried to kill him? Why? Almighty97 God, why, why? Because it must be—must be.
He picked up the knife almost furtively98, broke the blade, and threw the pieces into the empty grate. Still Marie did not stir. Surely she was not wounded? No, the knife was bright, and there was no blood on his cuffs99, but she lay - 129 - there as quiet as death itself. He hurried to her and lifted her in his arms.
Marie sighed, opened her eyes, and gazed straight out before her with a lifeless expression, then, seeing Ulrik Frederik, threw her arms around him, kissed and fondled him, still without a word. Her smile was pleased and happy, but a questioning fear lurked100 in her eyes. Her glance seemed to seek something on the floor. She caught Ulrik Frederik’s wrist, passed her hand over his sleeve, and when she saw that it was torn and the cuff slashed101, she shrieked102 with horror.
“Then I really did it!” she cried in despair. “O God in highest heaven, preserve my mind, I humbly103 beseech104 Thee! But why don’t you ask questions? Why don’t you fling me away from you like a venomous serpent? And yet, God knows, I have no part nor fault in what I did. It simply came over me. There was something that forced me. I swear to you by my hope of eternal salvation105, there was something that moved my hand. Ah, you don’t believe it! How can you?” And she wept and moaned.
But Ulrik Frederik believed her implicitly106, for this fully107 bore out his own thoughts. He comforted her with tender words and caresses, though he felt a secret horror of her as a poor helpless tool under the baleful spell of evil powers. Nor could he get over this fear, though Marie, day after day, used every art of a clever woman to win back his confidence. She had indeed sworn, that first morning, that she would make Ulrik Frederik put forth all his charms and exercise all his patience in wooing her over again, but now her behavior said exactly the reverse. Every look implored108; every word was a meek109 vow4. In a thousand trifles of dress and manner, in crafty110 surprises and delicate attentions, she - 130 - confessed her tender, clinging love every hour of the day, and if she had merely had the memory of that morning’s incident to overcome, she would certainly have won, but greater forces were arrayed against her.
Ulrik Frederik had gone away an impecunious111 prince from a land where the powerful nobility by no means looked upon the natural son of a king as more than their equal. Absolute monarchy114 was yet young, and the principle that a king was a man who bought his power by paying in kind was very old. The light of demi-godhead, which in later days cast a halo about the hereditary115 monarch113, had barely been lit, and was yet too faint to dazzle any one who did not stand very near it.
From this land Ulrik Frederik had gone to the army and court of Philip the Fourth, and there he had been showered with gifts and honors, had been made Grand d’Espagne and put on the same footing as Don Juan of Austria. The king made it a point to do homage116 in his person to Frederik the Third, and in bestowing117 on him every possible favor he sought to express his satisfaction with the change of government in Denmark and his appreciation118 of King Frederik’s triumphant119 efforts to enter the ranks of absolute monarchs120.
Intoxicated121 and elated with all this glory, which quite changed his conception of his own importance, Ulrik Frederik soon saw that he had acted with unpardonable folly122 in making the daughter of a common nobleman his wife. Thoughts of making her pay for his mistake, confused plans for raising her to his rank and for divorcing her chased one another through his brain during his trip homeward. On top of this came his superstitious123 fear that his life was in danger from her, and he made up his mind that until he could see his course more clearly, he would be cold and - 131 - ceremonious in his manner to her and repel124 every attempt to revive the old idyllic125 relation between them.
Frederik the Third, who was by no means lacking in power of shrewd observation, soon noticed that Ulrik Frederik was not pleased with his marriage, and he divined the reason. Thinking to raise Marie Grubbe in Ulrik Frederik’s eyes, he distinguished126 her whenever he could and showered upon her every mark of royal grace, but it was of no avail. It merely raised an army of suspicious and jealous enemies around the favorite.
The Royal Family spent the summer, as often before, at Frederiksborg. Ulrik Frederik and Marie moved out there to help plan the junketings and pageants127 that were to be held in September and October, when the Elector of Saxony was coming to celebrate his betrothal128 with the Princess Anne Sofie. The court was small as yet, but the circle was to be enlarged in the latter part of August, when the rehearsals129 of ballets and other diversions were to begin. It was very quiet, and they had to pass the time as best they could. Ulrik Frederik took long hunting and fishing trips almost every day. The King was busy at his turning-lathe or in the laboratory which he had fitted up in one of the small towers. The Queen and the princesses were embroidering130 for the coming festivities.
In the shady lane that led from the woods up to the wicket of the little park, Marie Grubbe was wont131 to take her morning walk. She was there to-day. Up in the lane, her dress of madder-red shone against the black earth of the walk and the green leaves. Slowly she came nearer. A jaunty132 black felt hat trimmed only with a narrow pearl braid rested lightly on her hair, which was piled up in - 132 - heavy ringlets. A silver-mounted solitaire gleamed on the rim133 where it was turned up on the side. Her bodice fitted smoothly134, and her sleeves were tight to the elbow, whence they hung, deeply slashed, held together by clasps of mother-of-pearl and lined with flesh-colored silk. Wide, close-meshed lace covered her bare arms. The robe trailed a little behind, but was caught up high on the sides, falling in rounded folds across the front, and revealing a black and white diagonally striped skirt, which was just long enough to give a glimpse of black-clocked stockings and pearl-buckled shoes. She carried a fan of swan’s feathers and raven’s quills135.
Near the wicket she stopped, breathed in her hollow hand, held it first to one eye then to the other, tore off a branch and laid the cool leaves on her hot eyelids136. Still the signs of weeping were plainly to be seen. She went in at the wicket and started up toward the castle, but turned back and struck into a side-path.
Her figure had scarcely vanished between the dark green box-hedges when a strange and sorry couple appeared in the lane: a man who walked slowly and unsteadily as though he had just risen from a severe illness, leaning on a woman in an old-fashioned cloth coat and with a wide green shade over her eyes. The man was trying to go faster than his strength would allow, and the woman was holding him back, while she tripped along, remonstrating138 querulously.
“Hold, hold!” she said. “Wait a bit and take your feet with you! You’re running on like a loose wheel going down hill. Weak limbs must be weakly borne. Gently now! Isn’t that what she told you, the wise woman in Lynge? What sense is there in limping along on legs that have no more starch139 nor strength than an old rotten thread!”
- 133 -
“Alack, good Lord, what legs they are!” whimpered the sick man and stopped; for his knees shook under him. “Now she’s all out of sight”—he looked longingly140 at the wicket—“all out of sight! And there will be no promenade141 to-day, the harbinger says, and it’s so long till to-morrow!”
“There, there, Daniel dear, the time will pass, and you can rest to-day and be stronger to-morrow, and then we shall follow her all through the woods way down to the wicket, indeed we shall. But now we must go home, and you shall rest on the soft couch and drink a good pot of ale, and then we shall play a game of reversis, and later on, when their highnesses have supped, Reinholdt Vintner will come, and then you shall ask him the news, and we’ll have a good honest lanterloo, till the sun sinks in the mountains, indeed we shall, Daniel dear, indeed we shall.”
“’Ndeed we shall, ’ndeed we shall!” jeered142 Daniel. “You with your lanterloo and games and reversis! When my brain is burning like molten lead, and my mind’s in a frenzy143, and—Help me to the edge of the road and let me sit down a moment—there! Am I in my right mind, Magnille? Huh? I’m mad as a fly in a flask144, that’s what I am. ’Tis sensible in a lowborn lout145, a miserable146, mangy, rickety wretch147, to be eaten up with frantic148 love of a prince’s consort149! Oh ay, it’s sensible, Magnille, to long for her till my eyes pop out of my head, and to gasp57 like a fish on dry land only to see a glimpse of her form and to touch with my mouth the dust she has trodden—’tis sensible, I’m saying. Oh, if it were not for the dreams, when she comes and bends over me and lays her white hand on my tortured breast—or lies there so still and breathes so softly and is so cold and forlorn and has none to guard her but only me—or - 134 - she flits by white as a naked lily!—but it’s empty dreams, vapor150 and moonshine only, and frothy air-bubbles.”
They walked on again. At the wicket they stopped, and Daniel supported his arms on it while his gaze followed the hedges.
“In there,” he said.
Fair and calm the park spread out under the sunlight that bathed air and leaves. The crystals in the gravel151 walk threw back the light in quivering rays. Hanging cobwebs gleamed through the air, and the dry sheaths of the beech-buds fluttered slowly to the ground, while high against the blue sky, the white doves of the castle circled with sungold on swift wings. A merry dance-tune sounded faintly from a lute112 in the distance.
“What a fool!” murmured Daniel. “Should you think, Magnille, that one who owned the most precious pearl of all the Indies would hold it as naught152 and run after bits of painted glass? Marie Grubbe and—Karen Fiol! Is he in his right mind? And now they think he’s hunting, because forsooth he lets the gamekeeper shoot for him, and comes back with godwits and woodcocks by the brace153 and bagful, and all the while he’s fooling and brawling154 down at Lynge with a town-woman, a strumpet. Faugh, faugh! Lake of brimstone, such filthy155 business! And he’s so jealous of that spring ewe-lambkin, he’s afraid to trust her out of his sight for a day, while—”
The leaves rustled156, and Marie Grubbe stood before him on the other side of the wicket. After she turned into the side-path, she had gone down to the place where the elks157 and Esrom camels were kept, and thence back to a little arbor158 near the gate. There she had overheard what Daniel said to Magnille, and now—
- 135 -
“Who are you?” she asked, “and were they true, the words you spoke159?”
Daniel grasped the wicket and could hardly stand for trembling.
“Daniel Knopf, your ladyship, mad Daniel,” he replied. “Pay no heed66 to his talk, it runs from his tongue, sense and nonsense, as it happens, brain-chaff and tongue-threshing, tongue-threshing and naught else.”
“You lie, Daniel.”
“Ay, ay, good Lord, I lie; I make no doubt I do; for in here, your ladyship”—he pointed160 to his forehead—“’tis like the destruction of Jerusalem. Courtesy, Magnille, and tell her ladyship, Madam Gyldenl?ve, how daft I am. Don’t let that put you out of countenance161. Speak up, Magnille! After all we’re no more cracked than the Lord made us.”
“Is he truly mad?” Marie asked Magnille.
Magnille, in her confusion, bent162 down, caught a fold of Marie’s dress through the bars of the wicket, kissed it, and looked quite frightened. “Oh, no, no, indeed he is not, God be thanked.”
“She too”—said Daniel, waving his arm. “We take care of each other, we two mad folks, as well as we can. ’Tis not the best of luck, but good Lord, though mad we be yet still we see, we walk abroad and help each other get under the sod. But no one rings over our graves; for that’s not allowed. I thank you kindly163 for asking. Thank you, and God be with you.”
“Stay,” said Marie Grubbe. “You are no more mad than you make yourself. You must speak, Daniel. Would you have me think so ill of you as to take you for a go-between of my lord and her you mentioned? Would you?”
- 136 -
“A poor addle-pated fellow!” whimpered Daniel, waving his arm apologetically.
“God forgive you, Daniel! ’Tis a shameful164 game you are playing; and I believed so much better of you—so very much better.”
“Did you? Did you truly?” he cried eagerly, his eyes shining with joy. “Then I’m in my right mind again. You’ve but to ask.”
“Was it the truth what you said?”
“As the gospel, but—”
“You are sure? There is no mistake?”
Daniel smiled.
“Is—he there to-day?”
“Is he gone hunting?”
“Yes.”
“Then, yes.”
“What manner”—Marie began after a short pause—“what manner of woman is she, do you know?”
“Small, your ladyship, quite small, round and red as a pippin, merry and prattling165, laughing mouth and tongue loose at both ends.”
“But what kind of people does she come from?”
“’Tis now two years ago or two and a half since she was the wife of a French valet de chambre, who fled the country and deserted166 her, but she didn’t grieve long for him; she joined her fate with an out-at-elbows harp-player, went to Paris with him, and remained there and at Brussels, until she returned here last Whitsun. In truth, she has a natural good understanding and a pleasing manner, except at times when she is tipsy. This is all the knowledge I have.”
“Daniel!” she said and stopped uncertainly.
- 137 -
“Daniel,” he replied with a subtle smile, “is as faithful to you now and forever as your own right hand.”
“Then will you help me? Can you get me a—a coach and coachman who is to be trusted, the instant I give the word?”
“Indeed and indeed I can. In less than an hour from the moment you give the word the coach shall hold in Herman Plumber’s meadow hard by the old shed. You may depend on me, your ladyship.”
Marie stood still a moment and seemed to consider. “I will see you again,” she said, nodded kindly to Magnille, and left them.
“Is she not the treasure house of all beauties, Magnille?” cried Daniel, gazing rapturously up the walk where she had vanished. “And so peerless in her pride!” he went on triumphantly167. “Ah, she would spurn168 me with her foot, scornfully set her foot on my neck, and softly tread me down in the deepest dust, if she knew how boldly Daniel dares dream of her person—So consuming beautiful and glorious! My heart burned in me with pity to think that she had to confide74 in me, to bend the majestic169 palm of her pride—But there’s ecstasy170 in that sentiment, Magnille, heavenly bliss171, Magnilchen!”
And they tottered172 off together.
The coming of Daniel and his sister to Frederiksborg had happened in this wise. After the meeting in the Bide-a-Wee Tavern, poor Hop-o’-my-Thumb had been seized with an insane passion for Marie. It was a pathetic, fantastic love, that hoped nothing, asked nothing, and craved173 nothing but barren dreams. No more at all. The bit of reality that he needed to give his dreams a faint color of life he found fully in occasional glimpses of her near by or flitting - 138 - past in the distance. When Gyldenl?ve departed, and Marie never went out, his longing grew apace, until it made him almost insane, and at last threw him on a sick-bed.
When he rose again, weak and wasted, Gyldenl?ve had returned. Through one of Marie’s maids, who was in his pay, he learned that the relation between Marie and her husband was not the best, and this news fed his infatuation and gave it new growth, the rank unnatural174 growth of fantasy. Before he had recovered enough from his illness to stand steadily137 on his feet, Marie left for Frederiksborg. He must follow her; he could not wait. He made a pretence175 of consulting the wise woman in Lynge, in order to regain176 his strength, and urged his sister Magnille to accompany him and seek a cure for her weak eyes. Friends and neighbors found this natural, and off they drove, Daniel and Magnille, to Lynge. There he discovered Gyldenl?ve’s affair with Karen Fiol, and there he confided177 all to Magnille, told her of his strange love, declared that for him light and the breath of life existed only where Marie Grubbe was, and begged her to go with him to the village of Frederiksborg that he might be near her who filled his mind so completely.
Magnille humored him. They took lodgings178 at Frederiksborg and had for days been shadowing Marie Grubbe on her lonely morning walks. Thus the meeting had come about.
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hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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5
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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6
lackey
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| n.侍从；跟班 | |
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7
rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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8
sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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9
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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10
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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11
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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12
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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13
flake
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| v.使成薄片；雪片般落下；n.薄片 | |
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14
numbness
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| n.无感觉，麻木，惊呆 | |
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15
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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16
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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17
teemed
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| v.充满( teem的过去式和过去分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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18
luring
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的现在分词形式） | |
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19
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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20
crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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21
rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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22
wring
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| n.扭绞；v.拧，绞出，扭 | |
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23
agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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24
etiquette
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| n.礼仪，礼节；规矩 | |
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25
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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26
fretting
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| n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
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27
torpor
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| n.迟钝；麻木；（动物的）冬眠 | |
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28
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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29
irritability
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| n.易怒 | |
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30
sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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31
casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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32
incisive
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| adj.敏锐的，机敏的，锋利的，切入的 | |
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33
tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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34
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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35
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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36
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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37
WHIMS
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| 虚妄，禅病 | |
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38
sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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39
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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40
glamor
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| n.魅力，吸引力 | |
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41
forsake
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| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
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42
romped
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| v.嬉笑玩闹( romp的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指在赛跑或竞选等中）轻易获胜 | |
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43
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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44
tapers
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| （长形物体的）逐渐变窄( taper的名词复数 )； 微弱的光； 极细的蜡烛 | |
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45
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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46
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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47
stouter
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| 粗壮的( stout的比较级 )； 结实的； 坚固的； 坚定的 | |
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48
wrenching
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| n.修截苗根，苗木铲根（铲根时苗木不起土或部分起土）v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的现在分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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49
flustered
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| adj.慌张的；激动不安的v.使慌乱，使不安( fluster的过去式和过去分词) | |
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50
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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51
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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52
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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53
thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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54
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
maudlin
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| adj.感情脆弱的，爱哭的 | |
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56
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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57
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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58
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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59
fatuous
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| adj.愚昧的；昏庸的 | |
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60
displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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61
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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62
provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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63
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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64
gainsaying
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| v.否认，反驳( gainsay的现在分词 ) | |
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65
wheedled
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| v.骗取（某物），哄骗（某人干某事）( wheedle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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66
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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67
importunity
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| n.硬要，强求 | |
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68
caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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69
endearments
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| n.表示爱慕的话语，亲热的表示( endearment的名词复数 ) | |
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70
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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71
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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72
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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73
satiety
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| n.饱和；(市场的)充分供应 | |
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74
confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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75
longings
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| 渴望，盼望( longing的名词复数 ) | |
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76
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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77
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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78
cub
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| n.幼兽，年轻无经验的人 | |
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79
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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80
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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81
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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82
drearily
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| 沉寂地，厌倦地，可怕地 | |
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83
plaintive
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|
| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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84
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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85
frisky
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|
| adj.活泼的，欢闹的；n.活泼，闹着玩；adv.活泼地，闹着玩地 | |
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86
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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88
warded
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| 有锁孔的，有钥匙榫槽的 | |
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89
cuff
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| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
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90
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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91
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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92
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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93
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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94
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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95
foresight
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| n.先见之明，深谋远虑 | |
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96
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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97
almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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98
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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99
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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100
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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101
slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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102
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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104
beseech
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| v.祈求，恳求 | |
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105
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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106
implicitly
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| adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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107
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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108
implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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109
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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110
crafty
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| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
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111
impecunious
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| adj.不名一文的，贫穷的 | |
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112
lute
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| n.琵琶，鲁特琴 | |
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113
monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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114
monarchy
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| n.君主，最高统治者；君主政体，君主国 | |
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115
hereditary
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| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
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116
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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117
bestowing
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| 砖窑中砖堆上层已烧透的砖 | |
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118
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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119
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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120
monarchs
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| 君主，帝王( monarch的名词复数 ) | |
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121
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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122
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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123
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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124
repel
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| v.击退，抵制，拒绝，排斥 | |
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125
idyllic
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| adj.质朴宜人的，田园风光的 | |
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126
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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127
pageants
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| n.盛装的游行( pageant的名词复数 )；穿古代服装的游行；再现历史场景的娱乐活动；盛会 | |
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128
betrothal
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| n. 婚约, 订婚 | |
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129
rehearsals
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| n.练习( rehearsal的名词复数 )；排练；复述；重复 | |
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130
embroidering
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| v.（在织物上）绣花( embroider的现在分词 )；刺绣；对…加以渲染（或修饰）；给…添枝加叶 | |
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131
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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132
jaunty
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| adj．愉快的，满足的；adv.心满意足地，洋洋得意地；n.心满意足；洋洋得意 | |
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133
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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134
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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135
quills
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| n.（刺猬或豪猪的）刺( quill的名词复数 )；羽毛管；翮；纡管 | |
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136
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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138
remonstrating
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的现在分词 )；告诫 | |
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139
starch
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| n.淀粉；vt.给...上浆 | |
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140
longingly
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| adv. 渴望地 热望地 | |
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141
promenade
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| n./v.散步 | |
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142
jeered
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| v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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143
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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144
flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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145
lout
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| n.粗鄙的人；举止粗鲁的人 | |
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146
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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148
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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consort
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| v.相伴；结交 | |
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150
vapor
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| n.蒸汽，雾气 | |
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151
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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152
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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153
brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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154
brawling
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| n.争吵，喧嚷 | |
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155
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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156
rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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157
elks
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| n.麋鹿( elk的名词复数 ) | |
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158
arbor
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| n.凉亭；树木 | |
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159
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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161
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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165
prattling
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| v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话( prattle的现在分词 )；发出连续而无意义的声音；闲扯；东拉西扯 | |
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166
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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168
spurn
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| v.拒绝，摈弃；n.轻视的拒绝；踢开 | |
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169
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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170
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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171
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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172
tottered
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| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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173
craved
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| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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174
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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175
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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176
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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177
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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178
lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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