within them, and what they think of me. I find something in every swift
little change of light in their eyes; sometimes the blood rises to their
cheeks and reddens them; at other times they pretend to be looking
another way, and yet they watch me covertly from the side. There I sit,
marking all this, and no one dreams that I see through every soul. For
years past I have felt that I could read the souls of all I met. But
perhaps it is not so...

I stayed at Herr Mack's house all that evening. I might have gone off
again at once--it did not interest me to stay sitting there--but had I
not come because all my thoughts were drawing me that way? And how could
I go again at once? We played whist and drank toddy after supper; I sat
with my back turned to the rest of the room, and my head bent down;
behind me Edwarda went in and out. The Doctor had gone home.

Herr Mack showed me the design of his new lamps--the first paraffin
lamps to be seen so far north. They were splendid things, with a heavy
leaden base, and he lit them himself every evening--to prevent any
accident. He spoke once or twice of his grandfather, the Consul.

"This brooch was given to my grandfather, Consul Mack, by Carl Johan
with his own hands," he said, pointing one finger at the diamond in his
shirt. His wife was dead; he showed me a painted portrait of her in one
of the other rooms--a distinguished looking woman with a lace cap and a
winsome smile. In the same room, also, there was a bookcase, and some
old French books, no less, that might have been an heirloom. The
bindings were rich and gilded, and many owners had marked their names in
them. Among the books were several educational works; Herr Mack was a
man of some intelligence.