Now I must introduce you to my place of abode—­no!  I must begin farther off.  Upon yonder hill, from which I first beheld the valley in which Rosenvik lies (the hill is some miles in the interior of Smaaland) do you descry a carriage covered with dust?  In it are seated Bear and his wedded wife.  The wife is looking out with curiosity, for before her lies a valley so beautiful in the tranquillity of evening!  Below are green groves which fringe mirror-clear lakes, fields of standing corn bend in silken undulations round gray mountains, and white buildings glance amid the trees.  Round about, pillars of smoke are shooting up vertically from the wood-covered hills to the serene evening sky.  This seems to indicate the presence of volcanoes, but in point of fact it is merely the peaceful labor of the husbandmen burning the vegetation, in order to fertilize the soil.  At all events, it is an excellent thing, and I am delighted, bend forward, and am just thinking about a happy family in nature,—­Paradise, and Adam and Eve,—­when suddenly Bear puts his great paws around me, and presses me so that I am near giving up the ghost, while, kissing me, he entreats me to “be comfortable here.”  I was a little provoked; but when I perceived the heartfelt intention of the embrace, I could not but be satisfied.

In this valley, then, was my permanent home:  here my new family was living; here lay Rosenvik; here I was to live with my Bear.  We descended the hill, and the carriage rolled rapidly along the level way.  Bear told me the names of every estate, both in the neighborhood and at a distance.  I listened as if I were dreaming, but was roused from my reverie when he said with a certain stress, “Here is the residence of ma chere mere,” and the carriage drove into a courtyard, and stopped before a large and fine stone house.

“What, are we going to alight here?” “Yes, my love.”  This was by no means an agreeable surprise to me.  I would gladly have first driven to my own home, there to prepare myself a little for meeting my husband’s stepmother, of whom I was a little afraid, from the accounts I had heard of that lady, and the respect Bear entertained for her.  This visit appeared entirely mal apropos to me, but Bear has his own ideas, and I perceived from his manner that it was not expedient then to offer any resistance.

It was Sunday, and on the carriage drawing up, the tones of a violin became audible to me.  “Aha!” said Bear, “so much the better;” made a ponderous leap from the carriage, and lifted me out.  Of hat-cases and packages, no manner of account was to be taken.  Bear took my hand, ushered me up the steps into the magnificent hall, and dragged me toward the door from whence the sounds of music and dancing were heard.  “See,” thought I, “now I am to dance in this costume forsooth!” I wished to go into some place where I could shake the dust from my nose and my bonnet; where I could at least view myself in a mirror.  Impossible!