Anecdotes of Destiny and Ehrengard by Isak Dinesen Page B

that timber, you old scoundrel!” The Brother thus addressed almost collapsed in a heavenly burst of laughter, but tears ran from his eyes. “Yes, I did so, beloved Brother,” he answered. “I did so.” Skipper Halvorsen and Madam Oppegaarden suddenly found themselves close together in a corner and gave one another that long, long kiss, for which the secret uncertain love affair of their youth had never left them time.
    The old Dean’s flock were humble people. When later in life they thought of this evening it never occurred to any of them that they might have been exalted by their own merit.They realized that the infinite grace of which General Loewenhielm had spoken had been allotted to them, and they did not even wonder at the fact, for it had been but the fulfillment of an ever-present hope. The vain illusions of this earth had dissolved before their eyes like smoke, and they had seen the universe as it really is. They had been given one hour of the millennium.
    Old Mrs. Loewenhielm was the first to leave. Her nephew accompanied her, and their hostesses lighted them out. While Philippa was helping the old lady into her many wraps, the General seized Martine’s hand and held it for a long time without a word. At last he said:
    “I have been with you every day of my life. You know, do you not, that it has been so?”
    “Yes,” said Martine, “I know that it has been so.”
    “And,” he continued, “I shall be with you every day that is left to me. Every evening I shall sit down, if not in the flesh, which means nothing, in spirit, which is all, to dine with you, just like tonight. For tonight I have learned, dear sister, that in this world anything is possible.”
    “Yes, it is so, dear brother,” said Martine. “In this world anything is possible.”
    Upon this they parted.
    When at last the company broke up it had ceased to snow. The town and the mountains lay in white, unearthly splendor and the sky was bright with thousands of stars. In the street the snow was lying so deep that it had become difficult to walk. The guests from the yellow house wavered on their feet, staggered, sat down abruptly or fell forward on their knees and hands and were covered with snow, as if they had indeed had their sins washed white as wool, and in this regained innocent attire were gamboling like little lambs. It was, to each of them, blissful to have become as a small child;it was also a blessed joke to watch old Brothers and Sisters, who had been taking themselves so seriously, in this kind of celestial second childhood. They stumbled and got up, walked on or stood still, bodily as well as spiritually hand in hand, at moments performing the great chain of a beatified
lanciers
.
    “Bless you, bless you, bless you,” like an echo of the harmony of the spheres rang on all sides.
    Martine and Philippa stood for a long time on the stone steps outside the house. They did not feel the cold. “The stars have come nearer,” said Philippa.
    “They will come every night,” said Martine quietly. “Quite possibly it will never snow again.”
    In this, however, she was mistaken. An hour later it again began to snow, and such a heavy snowfall had never been known in Berlevaag. The next morning people could hardly push open their doors against the tall snowdrifts. The windows of the houses were so thickly covered with snow, it was told for years afterwards, that many good citizens of the town did not realize that daybreak had come, but slept on till late in the afternoon.
XII. THE GREAT ARTIST
    When Martine and Philippa locked the door they remembered Babette. A little wave of tenderness and pity swept through them: Babette alone had had no share in the bliss of the evening.
    So they went out into the kitchen, and Martine said to Babette: “It was quite a nice dinner, Babette.”
    Their hearts suddenly filled with gratitude. They realized that none of their guests had said a single word about the food. Indeed, try as they might,