Coolest of all the conspirators was Old Nick, who walked about, smiling and content, enjoying his own observation of the entire menagerie, as he called it. Towards Cilia he was deference itself, and won her heart completely by addressing her as "Mrs. Braathen."
At last Soren tapped his glass; all eyes were at once turned towards him. He started off simply and easily; he had just one thing to say and that was, he thanked them all for their presence there this evening, and was very glad to see them under his humble roof. Your health! Cilia was quite proud of her husband for once, and not a little surprised; it was not a bit like Soren. Where on earth had he picked it up? She herself had previously asked Lt. Heidt, as a friend of the family, to say a few words of welcome, but Soren had managed it excellently already. Well, so much the better; it would show Lt. Heidt that even he was not indispensable.
Old Nick then rose, and proposed "our host and hostess" in a speech so fluent and cordial that even the parson's wife, who had scarcely heard a word of it, declared it was "perfectly charming."
All drank with Cilia, who curtsyed and nodded and smiled, and nodded again, until her head almost fell off; never in her dreams had she imagined such an exalted moment.
The regulation speeches were now over, and nothing more was expected beyond a few words from the parson, when, to Cilia's astonishment and the surprise of the guests, Soren again stepped forward and raised his glass.
Cilia's first thought was that her husband had taken a drop too much, but his calm, easy manner disposed of that idea in a moment. She wondered what on earth was going to happen, and for the first time in her life the foundations of her despotic power seemed shaken.
There was a tense silence among the guests; what could he have to say? Old Nick stood beside him, chatting easily with Malvina as if nothing were amiss. Thor Smith was out in the passage with Abrahamsen. Justice Heidt, who had been waiting all the evening for the "declaration," drew a little nearer, in the belief that it was coming.
Soren drank off his own glass of sherry, and having reinforced it with Old Nick's and the parson's, which stood nearest on the table, he gave vent to a long sigh, or grunt, and commenced as follows: