The white boat rocked over its image, as if it hung in space.

Gunnar's Place, too, lay reflected in the water, with field-patches below it, and birch-clad slopes above and around it.
The air, which had, later in the day, become misty with the heat, was filled with the strong scent of foliage, such as is only known in the south when it has been raining.
In less than an hour the pail was full of fish, enough for a "boiling," and we landed.
The minister's wife meantime had a table brought out on to the grass in front of the house, and on the fine damask cloth she had placed several milk-rings.

She had also made _romme groed_, [Thick cream, either sweet or sour, boiled.] and, as far as space would permit, had loaded the table with courses from the provision basket.
But at last the wine and good things began to confuse the sheriff's brain a little.

To the intense horror of the minister's wife, he related how her husband, grey-haired and strict as he now was, had been an unusually gay fellow in his youth, and how they had played many a mad prank together.
When the sheriff found that he had made a mistake, he tried to mend matters by a serious toast, in which he expressed a hope that, for the sake of the district, the minister would be able to defeat all the machinations of his intriguing neighbour--here he was stopped in his speech by a meaning look from the minister over at me, as I sat at the end of the table--and ended with some wandering remarks, which were meant to turn off the whole thing.
I turned cold, and the perspiration stood on my forehead, and I must have been as white as a sheet.

For my father's sake, I thought I must keep up appearances, but the food stuck in my throat, and I could not swallow another mouthful.