“Be more successful than last time, at Mrs. Emmy Lund’s on Tuesday, two o’clock.  Please notice, two o’clock precisely.”

“Does she mean so?  Is she really coquettish?  Yet I think I have been successful so far,” said Bagger to himself, and waited for the Tuesday with comparative ease; in truth he did not at all understand why he should be troubled to go to town.

As early on Tuesday forenoon as proper, he went over to the farm, and was somewhat surprised that there was to be seen no preparation for a town journey.  Ingeborg, in her usual morning dress, was seated at the sewing-table.  He waited until towards twelve o’clock, calculating that two hours was the least she needed in which to dress and drive to town.  The long hand threatened to touch the short hand at the number twelve, without any appearance of Ingeborg’s noticing it.  She only now and then cast a stealthy look at him, for it had not escaped her, nor the others, that he was in expectancy and excitement.  When the clock struck twelve,—­he was just alone with her,—­he asked suddenly, in a quick, trembling voice: 

“Miss Hjelm, you know I am Superior Court Counsellor?”

“No:  that I did not know,” she said almost with dread, and arose.  “No:  that I have never known!”

“But allow me, dear lady, so you know it now,” he said, surprised that the title or profession produced so strong an effect.

“Yes, now I know it,” she said, and held her hand upon her heart.  “Why do you tell me that?  What does that signify?”

“Nothing else, Miss Hjelm, than that you may understand that I don’t believe in witchcraft.”

A speaker’s physiognomy is often more intelligible than his words; and as Miss Hjelm saw the both hearty and spirited or jovial expression in the counsellor’s face, she had not that inclination, which she under other circumstances would have had, quickly to break off the conversation and go away.  It is possible, also, that his situation as Superior Court Counsellor—­as that counsellor mentioned by Miss Brandt—­did not, after a moment’s consideration, appear to her so dreadful as at the first moment of surprise.  So she answered: 

“But, Mr. Counsellor, is there then anybody who has accused you of believing in witchcraft?”

“No, dear madam; but for all that I can assure you, that at the moment the clock struck twelve I thought that you, by two o’clock, most fly away in the form of a bird.”

“As the clock struck twelve now, at noon?—­not at midnight?”

“No, just a little since.”

“That is remarkable.  Can you satisfy my curiosity, and tell me why?”

“Because under ordinary circumstances it appears to me impossible for a lady to make her toilette and drive ten miles in less than two hours.”

“That is quite true, Mr. Counsellor; but neither do I intend to drive ten miles to-day.”

“It was for that reason that I said, fly.”