"Yes, yes, Valdemar; the Froeken Thelma, as you call her.

Who is she?
.

.

.
What is she ?--and how can there be no pretty girls in Bosekop if such a beautiful creature as she lives there ?" Valdemar looked troubled and vexed.
"Truly, I thought not of the maiden," he said gravely.

"'Tis not for me to speak of the daughter of Olaf," here his voice sank a little, and his face grew more and more sombre.