The horses steamed in the chill morning air; the
sparrows twittered on the huge linden in the court, and the smoke rose
slowly from the chimneys. Thora looked smiling and contented at all
this after Mogens had helped her out of the carriage; but there was no
other way about, she was sleepy and too tired to conceal it. Mogens
took her to her room and then went into the garden, sat down on a
bench, and imagined that he was watching the sunrise, but he nodded
too violently to keep up the deception. About noon he and Thora met
again, happy and refreshed. They had to look at things and express
their surprise; they consulted and made decisions; they made the
absurdest suggestions; and how Thora struggled to look wise and
interested when the cows were introduced to her; and how difficult it
was not to be all too unpractically enthusiastic over a small shaggy
young dog; and how Mogens talked of drainage and the price of grain,
while he stood there and in his heart wondered how Thora would look
with red poppies in her hair! And in the evening, when they sat in
their conservatory and the moon so clearly drew the outline of the
windows on the floor, what a comedy they played, he on his part
seriously representing to her that she should go to sleep, really go
to sleep, since she must be tired, the while he continued to hold her
hand in his; and she on her part, when she declared he was
disagreeable and wanted to be rid of her, that he regretted having
taken a wife.
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