Errington made one more venture.
"May I hope, Mr.Gueldmar," he said with persuasive courtesy, "that you will break through your apparent rule of seclusion for once and visit me on board my yacht?
You have no doubt seen her--the _Eulalie_--she lies at anchor in the Fjord." The _bonde_ looked him straight in the eyes.

"I have seen her.

A fair toy vessel to amuse an idle young man's leisure! You are he that in that fool's hole of a Bosekop, is known as the 'rich Englishman,'-- an idle trifler with time,--an aimless wanderer from those dull shores where they eat gold till they die of surfeit! I have heard of you,--a mushroom knight, a fungus of nobility,--an ephemeral growth on a grand decaying old tree, whose roots lie buried in the annals of a far forgotten past." The rich, deep voice of the old man quivered as he spoke, and a shadow of melancholy flitted across his brow.

Errington listened with unruffled patience.

He heard himself, his pleasures, his wealth, his rank, thus made light of, without the least offense.