This lady had a great talent for music. I never saw her, but I became
aware of her in more ways than one: whenever she crossed the floor on
the third story, the ceiling shook, and the boards creaked, in a manner
unbearable to an invalid. And just when I had settled myself off, and
badly wanted to sleep, towards eleven o'clock at night, the heavy lady
above would sit down at her grand piano, and make music that would have
filled a concert hall resound through the place.
After a month had passed, the doctor declared that I had "turned the
corner," and might begin to take a little food besides the broth that up
till then had been my only nourishment. A little later, I was allowed to
try to get up. I was so weak that I had to begin to learn to walk again;
I could not support myself on my legs, but dragged myself, with the help
of the custodian, the four or five steps from the bed to a sofa.
Just at this time I received two letters from Copenhagen, containing
literary enquiries and offers. The first was from the editor of the
_Illustrated Times_, and enquired whether on my return home I would
resume the theatrical criticisms in the paper; in that case they would
keep the position open for me. I gave a negative reply, as I was tired
of giving my opinion on a Danish drama. The second letter, which
surprised me more, was from the editor of the, at that time, powerful
_Daily Paper_, Steen Bille, offering me the entire management of
the paper after the retirement of Molbech, except so far as politics
were concerned, the editor naturally himself retaining the latter.
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