chair. She was offended by the note of condescension in the lady's
voice. And she made up her mind.

A week later her engagement to the lecturer was publicly announced.
They decided to be married in the autumn and take up their abode at
Upsala.

A brilliant banquet, in celebration of the close of his bachelor life,
was given to the lecturer on ethics. A great deal of wine had been
consumed and the only artist the town boasted, the professor of
drawing at the Cathedral School, had depicted in bold outlines the
victim's career up to date. It was the great feature of the whole
entertainment. Ethics was a subject of teaching and a milch cow, like
many others, and need not necessarily influence either the life of the
community, or the life of the individual. The lecturer had not been a
saint, but had had his adventures like everybody else; these were
public property, for he had had no reason to keep them dark. With a
careless smile he watched his career, pictured in chalk and colours,
accompanied by witty verses, unfolding itself before his eyes, but
when at last his approaching bliss was portrayed in simple but
powerful sketches, he became deeply embarrassed, and the thought "If
Helena were to see that!" flashed like lightning through his brain.

After the banquet, at which according to an old, time-honoured custom,
he had drunk eight glasses of brandy, he was so intoxicated that he
could no longer suppress his fears and apprehensions. Among his hosts
was a married man and to him the victim turned for counsel and advice.
Since neither of them was sober, they chose, as the most secluded spot
in the whole room, two chairs right in the centre, immediately under
the chandelier. Consequently they were soon surrounded by an eagerly