‘These country girls are very white-skinned,’ said one of the fish-buyers to the other.  They were young men, and talked about Karen as connoisseurs.

At the window was a man who looked at the clock and said:  ’The post comes early to-night.’

There was a rumbling of wheels on the paving-stones without, the stable-door was flung open, and the wind again rattled all the doors and drove smoke out of the stove.

Karen slipped out into the kitchen the moment the door of the parlour was opened.  The mail-guard entered, and said ‘good-evening’ to the company.

He was a tall, handsome man, with dark eyes, black curly hair and beard, and a small, well-shaped head.  The long rich cloak of King of Denmark’s magnificent red cloth was adorned with a broad collar of curled dogskin that drooped over his shoulders.

All the dim, sickly light from the two paraffin lamps that hung over the table seemed to fall affectionately upon the red colour, which contrasted so strikingly with the sober black and gray tints of all else in the room.  And the tall figure with the small curly head, the broad collar, and the long purple folds, became, as he walked through the low-roofed, smoky room, a marvel of beauty and magnificence.

Karen came hurriedly in from the kitchen with her tray.  She bent her head, so that one could not see her face, as she hastened from guest to guest.

She placed the roast hare right in front of the two fish-buyers, whereupon she took a bottle of soda-water to the two commercial travellers, who sat in the inner room.  Then she gave the anxious countryman a tallow candle, and, as she slipped out again, she put sixty-three oere into the hand of the stranger by the stove.

The innkeeper’s wife was in utter despair.  She had, indeed, quite unexpectedly found her keys, but lost the lawyer’s letter immediately after, and now the whole inn was in the most frightful commotion.  None had got what they wanted—­all were shouting together.  The commercial men kept continuously ringing the table bell; the fish-buyers went into fits of laughter over the roast hare, which lay straddling on the dish before them.  But the anxious countryman tapped Madame on the shoulder with his tallow candle; he trembled for his sixty-three oere.  And, amid all this hopeless confusion, Karen had disappeared without leaving a trace.

Anders the post-boy sat on the box; the innkeeper’s boy stood ready to open the gates; the two passengers inside the coach became impatient, as did also the horses—­although they had nothing to look forward to—­and the wind rustled and whistled through the stable.

At length came the guard, whom they awaited.  He carried his large cloak over his arm, as he walked up to the coach and made a little excuse for having kept the party waiting.  The light of the lantern shone upon his face; he looked very warm, and smilingly said as much, as he drew on his cloak and climbed up beside the driver.