And
the evening comes, and under the wide and starry sky they dash up again
to Loreng--Loreng that lies there lighting them home with its long rows
of glowing windows. A glorious day, wife!
Or they would go out on ski over the hills to the woodmen's huts in the
forest, and make a blazing fire in the big chimney and drink steaming
coffee. Then home again through one of those pale winter evenings with
a violet twilight over woods and fields and lake, over white snow and
blue. Far away on the brown hillside in the west stands a farmhouse,
with all its windows flaming with the reflection from a golden cloud.
Here they come rushing, the wind of their passing shaking the snow from
the pines; on, on, over deep-rutted woodcutters' roads, over stumps and
stones--falling, bruising themselves, burying their faces deep in
the snow, but dragging themselves up again, smiling to each other and
rushing on again. Then, reaching home red and dripping, they lean the
ski up against the wall, and stamp the snow off their boots.
"Merle," said Peer, picking the ice from his beard, "we must have a
bottle of Burgundy at dinner to-night."
"Yes--and shall we ring up and ask someone to come over?"
"Someone--from outside? Can't we two have a little jollification all to
ourselves?"
"Yes, yes, of course, if you like."
A shower-bath--a change of underclothes--how delicious! And--an idea!
He'll appear at dinner in evening dress, just for a surprise. But as
he entered the room he stopped short.
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