hopes of a late visitor or two."

A few persons in the costume of the time of King Hans passed quickly by
him.

"How strange they look! The good folks come probably from a masquerade!"

Suddenly was heard the sound of drums and fifes; the bright blaze of a
fire shot up from time to time, and its ruddy gleams seemed to contend
with the bluish light of the torches. The Councillor stood still, and
watched a most strange procession pass by. First came a dozen drummers,
who understood pretty well how to handle their instruments; then came
halberdiers, and some armed with cross-bows. The principal person in the
procession was a priest. Astonished at what he saw, the Councillor asked
what was the meaning of all this mummery, and who that man was.

"That's the Bishop of Zealand," was the answer.

"Good Heavens! What has taken possession of the Bishop?" sighed the
Councillor, shaking his head. It certainly could not be the Bishop; even
though he was considered the most absent man in the whole kingdom, and
people told the drollest anecdotes about him. Reflecting on the matter,
and without looking right or left, the Councillor went through East
Street and across the Habro-Platz. The bridge leading to Palace Square
was not to be found; scarcely trusting his senses, the nocturnal
wanderer discovered a shallow piece of water, and here fell in with two
men who very comfortably were rocking to and fro in a boat.

"Does your honor want to cross the ferry to the Holme?" asked they.

"Across to the Holme!" said the Councillor, who knew nothing of the age
in which he at that moment was. "No, I am going to Christianshafen, to
Little Market Street."

Both men stared at him in astonishment.

"Only just tell me where the bridge is," said he. "It is really
unpardonable that there are no lamps here; and it is as dirty as if one
had to wade through a morass."

The longer he spoke with the boatmen, the more unintelligible did their
language become to him.

"I don't understand your Bornholmish dialect," said he at last, angrily,
and turning his back upon them. He was unable to find the bridge: there
was no railway either. "It is really disgraceful what a state this place
is in," muttered he to himself. Never had his age, with which, however,
he was always grumbling, seemed so miserable as on this evening. "I'll
take a hackney-coach!" thought he. But where were the hackney-coaches?
Not one was to be seen.

"I must go back to the New Ma