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"And even if you are not so very lovely," continued Eva, "you know that
yet you can be infinitely agreeable; you have something peculiarly so in
your demeanour. I heard papa say so this very day to mamma."

"Did he really say so?" said Leonore, her countenance growing brighter
and brighter.

"Yes, indeed he did!" replied her sister. "But, ah! Leonore, after all,
what is beauty? It fades away, and at last is laid in the black earth,
and becomes dust; and even whilst it is blooming, it is not
all-sufficient to make us either beloved or happy! It certainly has not
an intrinsic value."

Never was the power of beauty depreciated by more beautiful lips!
Leonore looked at her and sighed.

"No, Leonore," continued she, "do not trouble yourself to be beautiful.
This, it is true, may at times be very pleasant, but it certainly is not
necessary to make us either beloved or happy. I am convinced that if you
were not in the least prettier than you are, yet that you might if you
would, in your own peculiar way, be as much in favour and as much
beloved as the prettiest girls in the world."

"Ah!" said Leonore, "if I were only beloved by my nearest connexions!
What a divine thing it must be to be beloved by one's own family!"

"But that you can be--that you will be, if you only will! Ah! if you
only were always as you are sometimes--and you are more and more so--and
I love you more and more--infinitely I love you!"

"Oh, beloved Eva," said Leonore, deeply affected, whilst she leaned
herself quietly on her sister, "I have very little deserved this from
you; but, for the future, I will be different--I will be such as you
would have me. I will endeavour to be good and amiable."

"And then you will be so lovely, so beloved, and so happy!" said Eva,
"that it would be a real delight. But now you must come down into
Louise's and my room. There is something there for you; you must change
the air a little. Come, come!"

"Ah, how charming!" was Leonore's exclamation as she entered Eva's
chamber; and in fact nothing could be imagined more charming than that
little abode of peace, adorned as it now was by the coquetry of
affection. The most delicious odour of fruit and flowers filled the air,
and the sun threw his friendly beams on a table near the sofa, on which
a basket filled with beautiful fruit stood enticingly in the midst of
many pretty and tastefully arranged trifles.

"Here, dear Leonore," said Eva, "you will remain during this time. It
will do you good to leave your room a little. And look, they have all
left you an offering! This gothic church of bronze is from Jacobi. It is
a lamp! do you see? Light comes through the church window;--how
beautiful! We will light it this evening. And this fruit here--do you
see the beautiful grapes? All these are a plot between Henrik and
Petrea. The copperplate engravings are from my father; Louise has worked
you the slippers; and the little lady, she----"

Leonore clasped her hands. "Is it possible," said she, "that you all
have thought so much about me! How good you are--ah, too good!"

"Nay, do not weep, sweet Leonore," said Eva; "you should not weep, you
should be joyful. But the best part of the entertainment remains yet
behind. Do you see this new novel of Miss Edgeworth's? Mamma has given
us this, for us to read together. I will read to you aloud till
midnight, if you will. A delicate little supper has been prepared for us
by Louise, and we shall sup up here. We'll have a banquet in our own
way. Take now one of those big grapes which grow two on one stem, and I
will take the other. The king's health! Oh, glorious!"

Whilst the two sisters are banqueting at their own innocent feast, we
will see how it goes on in the great company at

AXELHOLM.

Things are not carried on in so enviably easy and unconstrained a manner
at every ball as at that of the citizens in the good little city of
* * * ping, where one saw the baker's wife and the confectioner's wife
waltzing together, but altogether in a wrong fashion, to which the rest
only said, "It does not signify, if they only go on!" Oh, no! such
simplicity as that is very rarely met with, and least of all among those
of whom we write.

At Axelholm, as at other great balls, the rocky shores of
conventionality made it impossible to move without a thousand
ceremonies, proprieties, dubiosities, formalities, and all the rest,
which, taken together, make up a vast sum of difficulties. The great
ball at Axelholm was not without pretension, and on that account not
without its stiff difficulties. Among these may be reckoned that several
of the young gentlemen considered themselves too old, or too----to dance
at all, and that, in consequence, many of the dance-loving ladies could
not dance at all either, because, on account of the threatening
eye-glasses of the gentlemen, they had not courage to dance with one
another. Nevertheless the scene looked like one of pure delight. The
great saloon so splendidly lighted, and a vast assembly collected there!

It is now the moment just before the dancing begins; the gentlemen stand
in a great group in the middle of the room, spreading themselves out in
direct or wavy lines towards the circle of ladies. These sit, like
flowers in the garden beds, on the benches round the room, mostly in
bashful stillness; whilst a few, in the consciousness of zephyr-like
lightness, float about the room like butterflies. All look happy; all
talk one with another, with all that animation, that reciprocal
good-will, which the sight of so much beauty, united to the
consciousness that they themselves are wearing their best looks, as well
as the expectation of pleasure, infuses.

Now the music begins to sound; now young hearts beat with more or less
disquiet; now go the engaged ones, amid the jostlings of the servants,
who are perpetually soliciting the young ladies to partake of the now
disdained tea. There one saw several young girls numerously surrounded,
who were studying the promised dances which were inscribed on the ivory
of their fans, declining fervent solicitations for the third, fourth,
fifth--nay, even up to the twelfth dance; but, fascinatingly-gracious,
promising themselves for the thirteenth, which perhaps may never be
danced; whilst others in their neighbourhood sit quiet and undisturbed,
waiting for the first invitation, in order thereto to say a willing and
thankful yes. Among the many-surrounded and the much-solicited, we may
see Sara and even Louise. With these emulated the three Misses
Aftonstjerna--Isabella, Stella, and Aurora--who stood constantly round
the chair of the Countess Solenstrale, which was placed before the great
mirror at the far end of the saloon. Among those who sat expectantly, in
the most beautiful repose, we shall discover our Petrea, who
nevertheless, with her bandeau of pearls in her hair, and a certain
bloom of innocence and goodness in her youthful countenance, looked
uncommonly well. Her heart beat with an indescribable desire to be
engaged.

"Ah!" sighed she, as she saw two most elegant young men, the two
brothers B----, walking round the circle of ladies, with their
eye-glasses in their hands. Their eye-glasses rested for a moment on
Petrea; the one whispered something in the ear of the other; both
smiled, and went on. Petrea felt humiliated, she knew not why.

"Now!" thought she, as Lieutenant S---- approached her quickly. But
Lieutenant S---- came to engage Miss T----, and Petrea remained sitting.
The music played the liveliest _anglaise_, and Petrea's feet were all in
agitation to be moving.

"Ah!" thought she, "if I were but a man I would engage Petrea."

The _anglaise_ streamed past Petrea's nose.

"Where is Eva?" asked Jeremias Munter, in a hasty and displeased tone,
from Louise, in the pause between the _anglaise_ and the waltz.

"She has remained at home with Leonore," said Louise; "she was
determined upon it."

"How stupid!" exclaimed he; "why did I come here then."

"Nay, that I really cannot tell!" returned Louise, smiling.

"Not!" retorted the Assessor. "Now then I will tell you, sister Louise,
I came here entirely to see Eva dance--solely and altogether on that
account, and for nothing else. What a stupid affair it was that she
should stop at home! You had a great deal better, all the rest of you,
have stopped at home together; you yourself, dear sister, reckoned into
the bargain! Petrea, there! what has she to do here? She was always a
vexation to me, but now I cannot endure her, since she has not
understanding enough to stay at home in Eva's place; and this little
curly-pate, which must dance with grown people just as if she were a
regular person; could not she find a piece of sugar to keep her at home,
instead of coming here to be in a flurry! You are all wearisome
together; and such entertainments as these are the most horrible things
I know."

Louise floated away in the waltz with Jacobi, laughing over this sally;
and the Countess Solenstrale, the sun of the ball, said as she passed
her chair, "Charmant, charmant!"

Besides this couple, who distinguished themselves by their easy
harmonious motion, there was another, which whirled past in wild
circles, and drew all eyes upon them likewise: this was Sara and the
boisterous Schwartz. Her truly beaming beauty, her dress, her haughty
bearing, her flashing eyes, called forth a universal ah! of astonishment
and admiration. Petrea forgot that she was sitting while she looked upon
her. She thought that she had never seen anything so transporting as
Sara in the whirl of the dance. But the Countess Solenstrale, as she
sate in her chair, said of this couple--nothing; nay, people even
imagined that they read an expression of displeasure in her countenance.
The Misses Aftonstjerna sailed round with much dignity.

"My dear girl," said Elise kindly, but seriously, to Sara after the
waltz, "you must not dance thus; your chest will not allow it. How warm
you are! You really burn!"

"It is my climate," answered Sara; "it agrees with me excellently."

"I beseech you sit this dance. It is positively injurious to you to heat
yourself thus," said Elise.

"This dance?" returned Sara; "impossible! I am engaged for it to Colonel
H----."

"Then, do not dance the next," besought Elise; "if you would do me a
pleasure, do not dance it with Schwartz. He dances in such a wild manner
as is prejudicial to the health; besides which, it is hardly becoming."

"It gives me pleasure to dance with him," answered Sara, both with pride
and insolence, as she withdrew; and the mother, wounded and displeased,
returned to her seat.

The Countess Solenstrale lavished compliments on Elise on account of her
children. "They are positively the ornament of the room," said
she;--"_charmant!_ and your son a most prepossessing young man--so
handsome and _comme il faut_! A charming ball!"

Isabella Aftonstjerna threw beaming glances on the handsome Henrik.

"What madness this dancing is!" said Mr. Munter, as with a strong
expression of weariness and melancholy he seated himself beside Evelina.
"_Nay_, look how they hop about and exert themselves, as if without this
they could not get thin enough; then, good heavens! how difficult it
seems, and how ugly it is! As if this could give them any pleasure! For
some of them it seems as if it were day-labour, and as if it were a
frenzy to others; and for a third, a kind of affectation; nay, I must go
my ways, for I shall become mad or splenetic if I look any longer on
this super-extra folly!"

"If Eva Frank were dancing too, you would not think it so," said
Evelina, with a well-bred smile.

"Eva!" repeated he, whilst a light seemed to diffuse itself over his
countenance, and his eyes suddenly beamed with pleasure--"Eva! no! I
believe so too. To see her dance is to see living harmony. Ah! it
enlivens my mind if I only see her figure, her gait, her slightest
movement; and then to know that all this harmony, all this beauty, is
not mere paint--not mere outside; but that it is the true expression of
the soul! I find myself actually better when I am near her; and I have
often a real desire to thank her for the sentiments which she instils
into me. In fact, she is my benefactress; and I can assure you that it
reconciles me to mankind and to myself, that I can feel thus to a
fellow-creature. I cannot describe how agreeable it is, because commonly
there is so much to vex oneself about in this so-called masterpiece of
the Creator!"

"But, best friend," said Evelina, "why are you so vexed? Most people
have still----"

"Ah, don't go and make yourself an _ange de clemence_ for mankind," said
he, "in order to exalt secretly yourself over me, otherwise I shall be
vexed with you; and you belong to the class that I can best endure. Why
do I vex myself? What a stupid question! Why are people stupid and
wearisome, and yet make themselves important with their stupidity? And
wherefore am I myself such a melancholy personage, worse than anybody
else, and should have withal such a pair of quick eyes, as if only on
purpose to see the infirmities and perversions of the world? There may,
however, in my case be sufficient reason for all this. When one has had
the fancy to come into the world against all order and Christian usage;
has seen neither father nor mother beside one's cradle; heard nothing,
seen nothing, learned nothing, which is in the least either beautiful or
instructive--one has not entered upon life very merrily. And then, after
all, to be called Munter![11] Good heavens! Munter! Had I been called
Blannius, or Skarnius, or Brummerius, or Grubblerius, or Rhabarberius,
there might have been some sense in the joke; but Munter! I ask you now,
is it not enough to make a man splenetic and melancholy all the days of
his life? And then, to have been born into the world with a continual
cold, and since then never to have been able to look up to heaven
without sneezing--do you find that merry or edifying. Well, and then!
after I had worked my way successfully through the schools, the dust of
books, and the hall of anatomy, and had come to hate them all
thoroughly, and to love that which was beautiful in nature and in art,
am I to thank my stars that I must win my daily bread by studying and
caring for all that is miserable and revolting in the world, and hourly
to go about among jaundice, and colic, and disease of the lungs? On this
account I never can be anything but a melancholy creature! Yes, indeed,
if there were not the lilies on the earth, the stars in heaven, and
beyond all these some one Being who must be glorious--and were there not
among mankind the human-rose Eva--the beautiful, fascinating Eva,
then----"

He paused; a tear stood in his eye; but the expression of his
countenance soon was changed when he perceived no less than five young
girls--they danced now the "free choice"--and among them the three
enchanting Miss Aftonstjernas, who, all locked together, came dancing
towards him with a roguish expression. He cast towards them the very
grimmest of his glances, rose up suddenly, and hastened away.

Sara danced the second waltz with Schwartz, yet wilder than the first.
Elise turned her eyes away from her with inward displeasure; but
Petrea's heart beat with secret desire for a dance as wild, and she
followed their whirlings with sparkling eyes.

"Oh," thought she, "if one could only fly through life in a joyful whirl
like that!"

It was the sixth dance, and Petrea was sitting yet. She felt her nose
red and swollen. "See now!" thought she, "farewell to all hopes of
dancing! It must be that I am ugly, and nobody will look at me!" At the
same moment she was aware of the eye of her mother fixed upon her with a
certain expression of discomfort, and that glance was to her like a stab
at the heart; but the next moment her heart raised itself in opposition
to that depressing feeling which seemed about to overcome her. "It is
unpleasant," thought she, "but it cannot be altered, and it is no fault
of mine! And as nobody will give me any pleasure, I will even find some
for myself."

Scarcely had Petrea made this determination, than she felt herself quite
cheered; a spring of independence and freedom bubbled up within her; she
felt as if she were able even to take down the chandelier from the
ceiling, and all the more so when she saw so many life-enjoying people
skipping around her.

At this moment an old gentleman rose up from a bench opposite Petrea,
with a tea-cup in his hand. In a mania of officiousness she rushed
forward in order to assist him in setting it aside. He drew himself
back, and held the cup firmly, whilst Petrea, with the most firm and
unwearying "Permit me, sir," seemed determined to take it. The strife
about the cup continued amid the unending bows of the gentleman, and the
equally unending curtseys of Petrea, until a passing waltzing couple
gave a jostle, without the least ceremony whatever to the
compliment-makers, which occasioned a shake of the tea-cup, and revealed
to Petrea the last thing in the world which she had imagined, that the
cup was not empty! Shocked and embarrassed, she let go her hold, and
allowed the old gentleman, with what remained of his cup of tea, to go
and find out for himself a securer place. Petrea seated herself, she
hardly knew how, on a bench near an elderly lady, who looked at her very
good-naturedly, and who helped very kindly to wipe off the ablution of
tea which she had received. Petrea felt herself quite confidential with
this excellent person, and inquired from her what was her opinion of
Swedenborg, beginning also to give her own thoughts on spectral visions,
ghosts, etc. The lady looked at her, as if she thought she might be a
little deranged, and then hastened to change her place.

A stout military gentleman sat himself down ponderously, with a deep
sigh, on the seat which the old lady had left, as if he were saying to
himself, "Ah, thank God! here I can sit in peace!" But, no! he had not
sate there three minutes and a half when he found himself called upon by
Petrea to avow his political faith, and invited by her to unite in the
wish of speedy war with Russia. Lieutenant-Colonel Uh----turned rather a
deaf ear to the battery by which his neighbour assailed him, but for all
that he probably felt it not the less heavy, because after several
little sham coughs he rose up, and left our Petrea alone with her
warlike thoughts.

She also rose, from the necessity she felt of looking elsewhere for more
sympathy and interest.

"In heaven's name, dear Petrea, keep your seat!" whispered Louise, who
encountered her on her search for adventures.

Petrea now cast her eyes on a young girl who seemed to have had no
better dancing fortune than herself, but who seemed to bear it much
worse, appeared weary of sitting, and could hardly refrain from tears.
Petrea, in whose disposition it lay to impart to others whatever she
herself possessed--sometimes overlooking the trifling fact that what she
possessed was very little desired by others--and feeling herself now in
possession of a considerable degree of prowess, wished to impart some of
the same to her companion in misfortune, and seated herself by her for
that purpose.

"I know not a soul here, and I find it so horribly wearisome," was the
unasked outpouring of soul which greeted Petrea, and which went directly
to her sympathising heart.

Petrea named every person she knew in the company to the young
unfortunate, and then, in order to escape from the weight of the
present, began to unfold great plans and undertakings for the future.
She endeavoured to induce her new acquaintance to give her her _parole
d'honneur_ that she would sometime conduct a social theatre with her,
which would assist greatly to make social life more interesting; and
further than that, that they should establish together a society of
Sisters of Charity in Sweden, and make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem;
furthermore, that they would write novels together; and that on the
following day, or more properly in the night, they would rise at
half-past two o'clock, and climb to the top of a high mountain in order
to see the sun rise; and finally, after all these, and sundry other
propositions, Petrea suggested to her new acquaintance a thee-and-thou
friendship between them! But, ah! neither Petrea's great prowess, nor
her great plans; neither the social theatre, nor the pilgrimage to
Jerusalem, least of all the thee-and-thou friendship, availed anything
towards enlivening the churlish young girl. Petrea saw plainly that an
invitation to dance would avail more than all her propositions, so,
sighing deeply because she was not a man to offer so great a pleasure,
she rose up, and left the object of her vain endeavours.

She looked round for a new subject, and her eye fell on the Countess
Solenstrale. Petrea was dazzled, and became possessed of the frenzied
desire to become acquainted with her, to be noticed by her; in short, in
some kind of way to approach the sun of the ball, fancying thereby that
a little glory would be reflected upon herself. But how was she to
manage it? If the Countess would but let fall her handkerchief, or her
fan, she might dart forward and pick it up, and then deliver it to her
with a compliment in verse. Petrea, hereupon, began to improvise to
herself; there was something, of course, about the sun in it.
Undoubtedly this would delight the Countess, and give occasion to more
acquaintance, and perhaps--but, ah! she dropped neither handkerchief nor
fan, and no opportunity seemed likely to occur in which she could make
use of her poem with effect. In the mean time she felt drawn as by a
secret influence (like the planet to the sun) ever nearer and nearer to
the queen of the saloon. The Aftonstjernas were now standing, beaming
around her, bending their white and pearl-ornamented necks to listen to
her jesting observations, and between whiles replying with smiles to the
politeness and solicitations of elegant gentlemen. It looked magnificent
and beautiful, and Petrea sighed from the ardent longing to ascend to
the _haute volee_.

At this moment Jacobi, quite warm, came hastening towards her to engage
her for the following quadrille.

Petrea joyfully thanked him; but suddenly reddening to the resemblance
of a peony with her mania of participation, she added, "Might I accept
your invitation for another person? Do me the great pleasure to ask that
young girl that sits there in the window at our left."

"But why?" asked Jacobi; "why will not you?"

"I earnestly beseech you to do it!" said Petrea. "It would give me
greater pleasure to see her dancing than if I danced myself."

Jacobi made some friendly objections, but did in the end as she
requested.

It was a great pleasure to Petrea to perceive the influence of this
engagement on her young friend. But Fate and the Candidate seemed
determined to make Petrea dance this quadrille; and a young officer
presented himself before her in splendid uniform, with dark eyes, dark
hair, large dark moustache, martial size, and very martial mien. Petrea
had no occasion, and no disposition either, to return anything but a
"yes" to this son of Mars. In fact, she never expected to receive a more
honourable invitation; and a few minutes later she found herself
standing close beside the chair of the Countess Solenstrale, dancing in
the same quadrille with the Aftonstjernas, and _vis-a-vis_ with the
Candidate. Petrea felt herself highly exalted, and would have been
perfectly prosperous had it not been for her restless demon, which
incessantly spurred her with the desire of coming in closer contact with
the beautiful, magnificent lady to whom she stood so near. To tread upon
her foot or her dress, might, it is true, have furnished an easy
occasion for many fine and reverential excuses; but, at the same time,
this would be neither polite nor agreeable. To fall in some kind of way
before her feet, and then, when graciously raised by the Countess, to
thank her in a verse, in which the _sun_ played a conspicuous part,
would have been incontestibly better; but now--Petrea must dance on!

Was it that our Petrea really was so addled (if people will graciously
allow us such an expression) that she had no right power over her limbs,
or did it happen from want of ballast, in consequence of the slender
dinner she had eaten, or was it the result of her usual distraction--we
know not; but this much is certain, that she in _chassee_-ing on the
right hand, on which she had to pass her _vis-a-vis_, made an error, and
came directly up to him. He withdrew to the other side, but Petrea was
already there: and as the Candidate again withdrew to the right, there
was she again; and amid all this _chassee_-ing her feet got so entangled
with his, that as he made a despairing attempt to pass her, it so
happened that both fell down in the middle of the quadrille!

When Petrea, with tears in her eyes, again stood upright, she saw before
her the eye-glass gentlemen, the two brothers B., who were nearly dying
with laughter. A hasty glance convinced Petrea that her mother saw
nothing of it; and a second glance, that she had _now_ attracted the
attention of the Countess Solenstrale, who was smiling behind her fan.
The first observation consoled her for the last; and she fervently
assured Jacobi, who was heartily distressed on her account, that she had
not hurt herself; that it signified nothing; that it was her fault,
etc., etc.; cast a tranquil glance on the yet laughing gentlemen, and
_chasseed_ boldly back again. But what, however, made the deepest
impression on Petrea, was the conduct of her partner, and his suddenly
altered behaviour. He brought the continued and unbecoming merriment of
the brothers B. to an end by one determined glance; and he who hitherto
had been parsimonious of words, and who had only answered all her
attempts at being entertaining by a yes or a no, now became quite
conversable, polite, and agreeable, and endeavoured in every possible
way to divert her attention from the unpleasant accident which had just
occurred, engaging her moreover for the _anglaise_ after supper.

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