e was
only something strange about her, as if she were looking for something
far away, or listening, or waiting, or dreaming.

The wind came from the west over the low plains. It had rolled long,
heavy billows across the Western Sea; [Footnote: German Ocean.] salt
and wet with spray and foam, it had dashed in upon the coast. But on
the high downs with the tall wrack-grass it had become dry and full of
sand and somewhat tired, so that when it came to Krarup Kro it had
quite enough to do to open the stable-doors.

But open they flew, and the wind filled the spacious building, and
forced its way in at the kitchen-door, which stood ajar. And at last
there was such a pressure of air that the doors in the other end of the
stable also burst open; and now the west wind rushed triumphantly right
through the building, swinging the lantern that hung from the roof,
whisking the ostler's cap out into the darkness, blowing the rugs over
the horses' heads, and sweeping a white hen off the roost into the
watering-trough. And the cock raised a frightful screech, and the ostler
swore, and the hens cackled, and in the kitchen they were nearly
smothered with smoke, and the horses grew restless, and struck sparks
from the stones. Even the ducks, which had huddled themselves together
near the mangers, so as to be first at the spilt corn, began quacking;
and the wind howled through the stable with a hellish din, until a
couple of men came out from the inn parlour, set their broad backs
against the doors and pressed them to again, while the sparks from their
great tobacco-pipes flew about their beards.

After these achievements the wind plunged down into the heather, ran
along the deep ditches, and took a substantial grip of the mail-coach,
which it met half a mile from the town.

'He is always in a devil of a hurry to get to Krarup Kro!' growled
Anders, the postboy, cracking his whip over the perspiring horses.

For this was certainly the twentieth time that the guard had lowered the
window to shout something or other up to Anders. First it was a friendly
invitation to a coffee-punch in the inn; but each time the friendliness
became scantier, until at last the window was let down with a bang, and
out sped some brief but expressive remarks about both driver and horses,
which Anders, at all events, could not have cared to hear.

Meanwhile the wind swept low along the ground, and sighed long and
strangely in the dry clusters of heather. Th