* * * * *
Christmas Eve! In honour of Jeanne, I put on one of my very best
frocks--Paquin. Moreover, I have decorated myself with rings and chains
as though I were a silly Christmas Tree myself.
Jeanne has enjoyed herself to-day. She and Torp rose before it was light
to deck the rooms with pine branches. Over the verandah waves the
Swedish flag, which Torp generally suspends above her bed, in
remembrance of Heaven knows who. I gave myself the pleasure of
surprising Jeanne, by bestowing upon her my green _crepe de Chine_. In
future grey and black will be my only wear.
After the obligatory goose, and the inevitable Christmas dishes, I spent
the evening reading the letters with which "my friends" honour me
punctiliously.
Without seeing the handwriting, or the signature, I could name from the
contents alone the writer of each one of them. They all write about the
honours which have befallen Joergen Malthe: a hospital here; a palace of
archives there.
Pages:
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