far dearer to her than was her husband. Her imagination had been
taken captive by the trees, and thus Harald Kaas had taken HER.
The estate, the climate, the exclusive possession of her part of
the house: this was the bait which she had chosen. Harald Kaas was
only a kind of Puck who had to be taken along with it. But it is
doubtful whether this conjecture was any nearer the truth. No one
ever really knew. She was not one of those whom it is easy to
catechise.

Every one wearies at last of trying to solve even the most
interesting of enigmas. No one could tolerate the sound of her
name when, four months after her marriage, she was seen in a stall
at the Christiania Theatre just as in old days, though looking
perhaps a little paler. Every opera-glass was levelled at her. She
wore a light, almost white, dress, cut square as usual. She did
not hide her face behind her fan. She looked about her with her
wondering eyes, as though she was quite unconscious that there
were other people in the theatre or that any one could be looking
at her. Even the most pertinacious were forced to concede that she
was both physically and mentally unique, with a charm all her own.

But just as she had become once more the subject of general
conversation, she disappeared. It afterwards transpired that her
husband had fetched her away, though hardly any one had seen him.
It was concluded that they must have had their first quarrel over
it.

Accurate information about their joint life was never obtained.
The attempts of her relations to force themselves upon them were
quite without result, except that they found out that she was