doxical. If he is not a democrat,
then I really don't know what he is."

"Well, there are still other designations."

*****

White alders, bluish lilac, red hawthorn, and radiant laburnum were in
flower and gave forth their fragrance in front of the house. The windows
were open and the blinds were drawn. Mogens leaned in over the sill and
the blinds lay on his back. It was grateful to the eye after all the
summer-sun on forest and water and in the air to look into the subdued,
soft, quiet light of a room. A tall woman of opulent figure stood
within, the back toward the window, and was putting flowers in a large
vase. The waist of her pink morning-gown was gathered high up below,
the bosom by a shining black leather-belt; on the floor behind her lay a
snow-white dressing-jacket; her abundant, very blond hair was hanging in
a bright-red net.

"You look rather pale after the celebration last night," was the first
thing Mogens said.

"Good-morning," she replied and held out without turning around her
hand with the flowers in it towards him. Mogens took one of the flowers.
Laura turned the head half towards him, opened her hand slightly and
let the flowers fall to the floor in little lots. Then she again busied
herself with the vase.

"Ill?" asked Mogens.

"Tired."

"I won't eat breakfast with you to-day."

"No?"

"We can't have dinner together either."

"You are going fishing?"

"No--Good-by!"

"When are you coming back?"

"I am not coming back."

"What do you mean by that?" she asked arranging her gown; she went to
the window, and there sat down on the chair.

"I am tired of you. That's all."

"Now you are spiteful, what's the matter with you? What have I done to
you?"

"Nothing, but since we are neither married nor madly in love with each
other, I don't see anything very strange in the fact, that I am going my
own way."

"Are you jealous?" she asked very softly.

"Of one like you! I haven't lost my senses!"

"But what is the meaning of all this?"

"It means that I am tired of your beauty, that I know your voice and
your gestures by heart, and that neither your whims nor your stupidity
nor your craftiness can any longer entertain me. Can you tell me then
why I should stay?"

Laura wept. "Mogens, Mogens, how can you have the heart to do this?
Oh, what shall I, shall I, shall I, shall I do! Stay only today, only
to-day, Mogens. You dare not go away from me!"

"Those are lies, Laura, you do