Rachel sat by the window till she heard the carriage which brought home Madeleine, and then hurriedly undressed and went to bed.

As Madeleine was driving home the carriage stopped for a moment in front of the club, while a boy spoke a few words to the coachman.

The driver that evening was old Per Karl, who many years ago had come from Denmark with a pair of horses for the young Consul.  Both he and the horses were long past their work; but whenever he could get the opportunity, he was only too pleased to get the old blacks into the carriage, and himself upon the box.  This had been the case this evening, when it was only the good-natured Miss Madeleine for whom the carriage was going, and she was always perfectly satisfied, as the old Jutlander well knew, even if the pace was not very terrific.

Per Karl now turned round and said to Madeleine, “What shall we do, miss?  Now there will be a bother.  Mr. Morten is going to drive out with us, and when he sees we have got the old horses he will be angry.”

A few moments afterwards Morten came out, and, after many apologies for the delay, took his place by Madeleine’s side.  He said he thought he would go out and see how Fanny was, she looked so very unwell; and besides, what a lovely moonlight evening it was for a drive!  He sat himself down comfortably in the carriage, and had just taken a long whiff of his cigar, when all at once he leant forward and said, “Stop! what was that?”

One of the horses had made a slight stumble, and the jar was felt in the carriage.

“I declare, it is those old horses and Per Karl!” cried Morten, partly standing up.  “What is the meaning of this?”

“Oh!” muttered Per Karl, who was quite ready to defend himself, “there is nothing the matter with the old horses; but, of course, if we had known we were going to have you in the carriage, sir—­”

“Rubbish!  You know perfectly well the old horses were not to be used any more.  I will tell my father, and have them shot to-morrow, as sure as ever it comes.”

Morten was very fond of horses; and besides, he was just in that excited and obstinate mood in which people sometimes are, when they have been dining at their club.

Madeleine tried to pacify her cousin, but it only made him all the worse.

“Just look how lame that one is—­the left-hand one!”

“You mean the near one, sir.”

“Go to the devil with your near and off!  I mean the left-hand one, the mare; both her fore legs are as round as apples.  Why, I saw that in the spring.”

“Not both of them,” answered the old coachman, doggedly.

“Yes, they are; but I will have this looked to.  I will have a stop put to it, once for all,” said Morten, decidedly.  He was just in the humour to take everything very much in earnest.

As soon as they arrived, he scarcely gave himself time to help Madeleine out of the carriage, so anxious was he to examine the mare’s fore legs; and she heard the voices disputing and wrangling away in the direction of the stable, as she went into the house.