“So! and now?”

“Now I have presented the letter to Miss Brandt.”

“You gave it away?  Why?”

“Because I learned that the man, who perhaps or probably wrote it in his youth, has spoken about it publicly, and is counsellor in one of the courts.”

“Oh, I understand,” said the cousin, half audibly:  “when the ideal is found out to be a counsellor, then—­”

“Then it is not an ideal any longer?  No.  The whole had been spoiled by being fumbled in public.  I would get away from the temptation to think of him.  Do court to him, announce myself to him as the happy finder,—­I could not.”

“That I understand very well,” said the cousin, putting her arm affectionately around Ingeborg’s waist; “but why did you just give Miss Brandt the letter?”

“Because she is acquainted with the counsellor, and indeed, as far as I could understand, feels somewhat for him.  They two can get each other; and what a wonderful consecration it will be when she on the marriage-day gives him the letter!”

The cousin said musingly:  “And such secrets can live in one whole year, without another surmising it!” Suddenly she added:  “But how will Miss Brandt on that occasion interpret the word ’Geb’?”

“Oh!  I suppose a single syllable is of no consequence; and, besides, Miss Brandt is a judicious girl,” answered Ingeborg, with an inexpressible flash in the dark eyes.

IV.

Good fortune seldom comes singly.  One morning Criminal and Court Counsellor Bagger got, at his residence at Noerre Street, official intelligence that from the first of next month he was transferred to the King’s Court, and in grace was promoted to be veritable counsellor of justice there; rank, fourth-class, number three.  As, gratified by this friendly smile from above, he went out to repair to the court-house, he met in the porch a postman, who delivered him a letter.  With thoughts yet busy with new title and court, Counsellor Bagger broke the letter, but remained as if fixed to the ground.  In it he read: 

“The high-seat pillars have come on shore.

“—­’Geb.’—­”

One says well, that a man’s love or season of courtship lasts till his thirtieth year, and after that time he is ambitious; but it is not always so, and with Counsellor Bagger it was in all respects the contrary.  His ambition was already, if not fully reached, yet in some degree satisfied.  The faculty of love had not been at all employed, and the letter came like a spark in a powder-cask; it ran glowing through every nerve.  The youthful half of his soul, which had slept within him, wakened with such sudden, revolutionary strength, that the other half soul, which until now had borne rule, became completely subject; yes, so wholly, that Counsellor Bagger went past the court-house and came down in Court-house Street without noticing it.  Suddenly he missed the big building with the pillars and inscription:  “With law shall Lands be built;” looked around confused, and turned back.