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hymn-book in her white hands. He saw the freckled
chamber-maid with her thin ankles and the fencing-master with
his pimpled, purplish face and his bow-legs. The park of
Gottorp castle passed in review, and the meadows with
fresh hay-stacks by the fjord, and there stood the
gamekeeper’s clumsy boy Heinrich, who knew how to crow like
a cock and was marvellously clever at playing ducks and
drakes. Last came the church with its strange twilight, its
groaning organ, its mysterious iron-railed chapel, and its
emaciated Christ holding a red banner in his hand.
Again came a blast of the horn from West Gate, and
in the same moment the sun broke out, bright and warm,
routing all mists and shadowy tones.
He remembered the chase when he had shot his first
deer, and old von Dettmer had made a sign in his forehead
with the blood of the animal, while the poor hunters’ boys
blew their blaring fanfares. Then there was the nosegay
to the castellan’s Malene and the serious interview with his
tutor, then his first trip abroad. He remembered his first
duel in the fresh, dewy morning, and Annette’s cascades
of ringing laughter, and the ball at the Elector’s, and his
lonely walk outside of the city gates with head aching, the
first time he had been tipsy. The rest was a golden mist,
filled with the tinkling of goblets and the scent of wine,
and there were Lieschen and Lotte, and Martha’s white
neck and Adelaide’s round arms. Finally came the journey
to Copenhagen and the gracious reception by his royal
father, the bustling futilities of court duties by day and
the streams of wine and frenzied kisses at night, broken by
the gorgeous revelry of the chase or by nightly trysts and
tender whisperings in the shelter of Ibstrup park or the
gilded halls of Hilleröd castle.
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