oment; he gathered
all his strength of mind together and appeared the same as before.

"That was a very good trick!" said Wilhelm.

"Yes, certainly!" answered Otto; but he had seen nothing whatsoever. His
soul was strangely affected. The man exhibited several other tricks, and
then approached with the plate. Otto laid down a mark, and then rose to
depart. The juggler remarked the piece of money: a smile played about
his mouth; he glanced at Otto, and a strange malicious expression lay in
the spiteful look which accompanied his loudly spoken thanks: "Mr. Otto
Thostrup is always so gracious and good!"

"Does he know you?" asked Wilhelm.

"He has the honor!" grinned the juggler, and proceeded.

"He has exhibited his tricks in the Jutland villages, and upon my
father's estate," whispered Otto.

"Therefore an acquaintance of your childhood?" said Wilhelm.

"Of my childhood," repeated Otto, and they made themselves a way through
the tumult.

They met with several young noblemen, relatives of Wilhelm, with the
cousin who had written the verses for the Christmas tree; also several
friends from the carouse, and the company increased. They intended, like
many others, to pass the night in the wood, and at midnight drink out of
Kirsten Piil's well. "Only with the increasing darkness will it become
thoroughly merry here," thought they: but Otto had appointed to be in
the city again toward evening. "Nothing will come out of that!" said the
poet; "if you wish to escape, we shall bind you fast to one of us."

"Then I carry him away with me on my back," replied Otto; "and still run
toward the city. What shall I do here at night in the wood?"

"Be merry!" answered Wilhelm. "Come, give us no follies, or I shall grow
restive."

Hand-organs, drums, and trumpets, roared against each other; Bajazzo
growled; a couple of hoarse girls sang and twanged upon the guitar:
it was comic or affecting, just as one was disposed. The evening
approached, and now the crowd became greater, the joy more noisy.

"But where is Otto?" inquired Wilhelm. Otto had vanished in the crowd.
Search after him would help nothing, chance must bring them together
again. Had he designedly withdrawn himself? no one knew wherefore, no
one could dream what had passed within his soul. It became evening.
The highway and the foot-path before the park resembled two moving gay
ribbons.

In the park itself the crowd perceptibly diminished. It was now the
high-road whi