Stellan freed himself at once. He hastened to drag out his fellow passenger from below the torn, flapping and billowing balloon cloth. She had fainted. …
Some people came running up and he made them carry her in. They had had the luck to land just beside a country house. Then he rushed to the telephone and arranged for telegrams. …
Miss Lähnfeldt lay ill for a few days, till Stellan one day stepped in to her with a bundle of Swedish newspapers full of highly coloured descriptions of the unique and adventurous balloon flight of the well-known tennis player and rider, Miss Lähnfeldt.
For the first time she looked at Stellan with gratitude and approval.
Stellan was invited to the autumn shoot at Trefvinge. He gave a low whistle when he saw the name of Miss Lähnfeldt and not her father on the invitation card. He understood that the invitation was from her and not from her father.
But he also whistled, though in another key, when he heard from the coachman that Captain von Strelert had already arrived. For it was equally evident that Manne, Baron Manne von Strelert was the guest of the Count.
Count Lähnfeldt had, as a matter of fact, been extremely angry over his daughter’s rash action. Busybodies, of course, telephoned at once to Trefvinge to tell him that his daughter had gone up in a balloon with Captain Selamb. In a balloon! It seemed almost indecent to him. He could not remember any really aristocratic ladies who had gone up in a balloon. And with that Captain Selamb into the bargain! From Selambshof … brother of Peter Selamb … !
When, later in the day, there came a telephone message from Furusund that the balloon had been driven out to sea in the gale, then he regarded the information as a confirmation of his view that Captain Selamb was not the sort of gentleman that the daughter of Count Lähnfeldt should go up in the air with. He was so extremely vexed that he scarcely felt any anxiety for the life of his only child.
Towards evening he calmed down a little when he received a wire that they had landed at a quite respectable Finnish-Swedish country house. And when the following day he read in the papers of the brave and sporting action of a lady moving in the highest circles, and of the courage and the self-control of Miss Lähnfeldt, daughter of the well-known Count Lähnfeldt of the magnificent seat at Trefvinge, well, then he thought at last that perhaps his daughter’s eccentricity had something aristocratic in it after all.
But from that admission to the approval of Captain Selamb as in any sort of capacity suitable company for his daughter was a long step—So far Stellan had not yet come, in spite of his well arranged stage management and press advertisement. It was therefore with measured dignity and a rather chilly expression that the Lord of Trefvinge received him. And this occurred in the largest and most splendid room of the castle, the great tapestry hall, which might well have subdued even the boldest.
“Good morning, Captain Selamb! My daughter is just dressing for a ride with Baron von Strelert.”
“Yes, I heard that Manne had promised to come for a few days,” answered Stellan in a light, almost insolent, tone. He read the master of the house quite clearly, so clearly indeed that he sometimes was afraid of not being able to keep a straight face.
Count Lähnfeldt was a very short man, in spite of the high heels and extra soles on his shoes. He had an extremely neat face. His words and his gestures were dignified, slow, and heraldically stiff. But his eyes showed a continual nervousness, the nervousness of the actor: “Do I make an impression—do you believe in me?” they seemed to say.
Alas, nobody believed at all in him. People made most impudent fun of him behind his back. He was generally called Count Loanfeldt, and the reason was known to everybody.
The owner of Trefvinge was the son of an unmarried actress, but whilst still very young he married the extremely wealthy widow of a brewer, who died when his only daughter was born. The title of Count was Portuguese. He had received it from King Charles, of the house of Bragança, after having on a certain delicate occasion lent him a hundred thousand crowns. This happened in Vienna whilst the monarch was still only Crown Prince. Lähnfeldt, who had quite early begun to imagine that his unknown father was a highborn aristocrat, did everything to correct the unjust fate that had given him a plebeian name, and when travelling he always used to try to come into contact with royalty. And now he had managed to procure rooms at the hotel adjoining the suite of the Crown Prince, Charles. It struck him at once that the Crown Prince received a lot of people who did not behave with becoming reverence at all. When he questioned the porters, he shrugged his shoulders. The callers were simply creditors. A gentleman of his Highness’ suite had gambled away all the funds, and for some incomprehensible reason no money arrived from home. He could not even pay his hotel bill.
Herman Bogislaus Lähnfeldt needed no more. He decided to intervene at once for
