stupid part of it was
that he remembered so little of what had happened. Where had he
spent the night--and in what society? From a certain time in the
evening until he woke the following morning in that filthy bedroom,
all was like a vague dream--good or bad, he knew not. But in spite
of his shame he felt a secret satisfaction in having for once kicked
over the traces. He had seen life. How long had he been out? Jolting
round from farm to farm, he would brood on the question, would
recall some parts of the evening and suppress others--to get as much
pleasure out of it as possible. But in the end he was none the
wiser.

However, it was impossible for him to keep any secret for long.
First one thing, then another, came out, and eventually Ditte had a
pretty good idea of what had happened, and would discuss it with
him. In the evenings, when the little ones were in bed, they would
talk it over.

"But don't you think she was a real princess?" asked Ditte each
time. She always came back to this--it appealed to her vivid
imagination and love of adventure.

"The Lord only knows," answered her father thoughtfully. He could
not fathom how he could have been such a fool; he had managed so
well with the Jews in the stable-yard. "Ay, the Lord only knows!"

"And the Bandmaster," said Ditte eagerly, "he must have been a
wonderful man."

"Ay, that's true--a conjurer! He made I don't know how many drinks
disappear without any one seeing how it was done. He held the glass
on the table in his left hand, slapped his elbow with his right--and
there it was empty."

To Ditte it was a most exciting adventure, and incidents that had
seemed far from pleasant to Lars Peter became wonders in Ditte's
version of the affair. Lars Peter was grateful for the child's help,
and together they spoke of it so long, that slowly, and without his
being aware of it, the whole experience assumed quite a different
aspect.

It certainly had been a remarkable evening. And the princess--yes,
she must have been there in reality, strange though it sounded that
a beggar like him should have been in such company. But the devil of
a woman she was to drink and smoke. "Ay, she was real enough--or I
wouldn't have been so taken with her," admitted he.

"Then you've slept with a real princess--just like the giant in the
fairy tale," broke out Ditte, clapping her hands in glee. "You have,
father!" She looked beamingly at him.

Lars Peter was silent with embarra