TO OYVIND THORESEN PLADSEN:--
The school-master has given me another letter from you, and I have
just read it, but I do not understand it in the least, and that, I dare
say, is because I am not learned. You want to know how it is with me
in every respect; and I am healthy and well, and there is nothing at
all the matter with me. I eat heartily, especially when I get milk
porridge. I sleep at night, and occasionally in the day-time too. I
have danced a great deal this winter, for there have been many parties
here, and that has been very pleasant. I go to church when the snow is
not too deep; but we have had a great deal of snow this winter. Now, I
presume, you know everything, and if you do not, I can think of nothing
better than for you to write to me once more.
MARIT KNUDSDATTER.



TO THE MOST HONORED MAIDEN, MARIT KNUDSDATTER HEIDEGARDS:--
I have received your letter, but you seem inclined to leave me no
wiser than I was before. Perhaps this may be meant for an answer. I
do not know. I dare not write anything that I wish to write, for I do
not know you. But possibly you do not know me either.
You must not think that I am any longer the soft cheese you
squeezed the water away from when I sat watching you dance. I have
laid on many shelves to dry since that time. Neither am I like those
long-haired dogs who drop their ears at the least provocation and take
flight from people, as in former days. I can stand fire now.
Your letter was very playful, but it jested where it should not
have jested at all, for you understood me very well, and you could see