Morten Bruus of Ingvorstrup was here to-day and wanted to make me a present of a fat calf.  But I answered him in the words of Moses, “Cursed be he who taketh gifts.”  He is of a very quarrelsome nature, a sharp bargainer, and a boastful talker.  I do not want to have any dealings with him, except through my office as judge.

I have prayed to God for wisdom and I have consulted with my own heart, and I believe that Mistress Mette Quist is the only woman with whom I could live and die.  But I will watch her for a time in secret.  Beauty is deceptive and charm is a dangerous thing.  But I must say that she is the most beautiful woman I have yet seen.

I think that Morten Bruus a very disagreeable person—­I scarcely know why myself.  But whenever I see him something comes over me, something that is like the memory of an evil dream.  And yet it is so vague and so faint, that I could not say whether I had really ever seen the man in my dreams or not.  It may be a sort of presentiment of evil; who knows?

He was here again and offered me a pair of horses—­beautiful animals—­at a ridiculously low price.  It looked queer to me.  I know that he paid seventy thalers for them, and he wanted to let me have them for the same price.  They are at the least worth one hundred thalers, if not more.  Was it intended for a bribe?  He may have another lawsuit pending.  I do not want his horses.

I paid a visit to the Rector of Veilbye to-day.  He is a fine, God-fearing man, but somewhat quick-tempered and dictatorial.  And he is close with his money, too, as I could see.  Just as I arrived a peasant was with him trying to be let off the payment of part of his tithe.  The man is surely a rogue, for the sum is not large.  But the rector talked to him as I wouldn’t have talked to a dog, and the more he talked the more violent he became.

Well, we all have our faults.  The rector meant well in spite of his violence, for later on he told his daughter to give the man a sandwich and a good glass of beer.  She is certainly a charming and sensible girl.  She greeted me in a modest and friendly manner, and my heart beat so that I could scarcely say a word in reply.  My head farm hand served in the rectory three years.  I will question him,—­one often hears a straight and true statement from servants.

A surprise!  My farm hand Rasmus tells me that Morten Bruus came a-wooing to the rectory at Veilbye some years back, but was sent away with a refusal.  The rector seemed to be pleased with him, for the man is rich.  But his daughter would not hear to it at all.  Pastor Soeren may have tried hard to persuade her to consent at first.  But when he saw how much she disliked the man he let her do as she would.  It was not pride on her part, Rasmus said, for she is as simple and modest as she is good and beautiful.  And she knows that her own father is peasant-born as well as Bruus.

Now I know what the Ingvorstrup horses were intended for.  They were to blind the judge and to lead him aside from the narrow path of righteousness.  The rich Morten Bruus covets poor Ole Andersen’s peat moor and pasture land.  It would have been a good bargain for Morten even at seventy thalers.  But no indeed, my good fellow, you don’t know Erik Soerensen!