Fanny had for some time remarked that Delphin was openly paying his attentions to Madeleine, and the more plainly her sharp eyes took in the situation, the more clearly did she perceive that she had been relegated to the unenviable position of third person.  She knew that Delphin had been used to the society of Christiania; he was neither so young nor so green as most of her father’s assistants, and she therefore found his society agreeable.  But when she found that, as usual, he began at once to show his admiration for her, she thought to herself he was no different to the rest.  But now she began to take a little more notice of him; perhaps it was hardly worth while to let him slip entirely out of her hands; and when she looked at herself in the glass, she could not help laughing and thinking how absurd it was for any one, with her pretensions to beauty, to be contented to accept her present humiliating position.

Fanny had arranged that Madeleine should take music lessons in the town, and Delphin had got to know exactly when these music lessons took place.  Madeleine met him very frequently, and they generally managed to go a little out of the way on her return, either in the streets, or in the park.  Madeleine found these meetings rather amusing, and talked gaily and openly with her admirer.

“Now, Mr. Delphin,” she said to him one day, “how is it you are so sarcastic and critical when you are in society?  When we are alone you are much more agreeable.”

“The reason is, Miss Madeleine, that when I am talking alone with you, I show more of my natural character; when I am in conversation with other people, I rather prefer to conceal my opinions.”

“So you conceal your opinions?” said she, laughing.

“Yes.  What I mean is, I don’t care for every passer-by to pry into my mind.  I generally keep the blinds down.”

“Yes, now I understand,” she answered seriously; not that she remarked the preference shown her, but she could not help thinking how much of her own life was also concealed by a curtain.

In one of the small streets near the sea they had to pass through a crowd of fishermen, who had been out all night, and were carrying home their lines, tarpaulins, and large baskets full of fish.

“Bah!” said Delphin, when they had passed, “I can’t bear that smell of fish.  But I forgot, Miss Garman; you must have had plenty of it when you lived at Bratvold.”

“Oh yes!” answered Madeleine, with some confusion.

“Well, for my part,” he continued, in a merry tone, “I can say with truth that I am a friend of the people, but I must confess that when the dear creatures come too near my nose my affection for them somewhat cools.  There is something about that mixture of fish, tobacco, tar, and wet woollen clothes that I can’t get over.”

Madeleine could not but feel what a vivid description this was of the people among whom she had lived, and of him to whom she had so nearly—­Ah, it was well she had not betrayed the secret to any one.