IN THE STATE OF DENMARK 175 



far more convincing. We remained, however, upon 

 the platform at Hillerod, where, besides ourselves, 

 the station-master seemed the only thing alive in 

 the neighbourhood. It rained excessively, and the 

 sheeted downpour framed in the silence beneath the 

 station verandah ; the station-master turned away, 

 as one who leaves fools to their folly. We found a 

 droitschke outside, and cheerlessly gave the word for 

 Frederiksborg Castle. 



With all the enthusiasm of the long unemployed, 

 the droitschke whirled into a small red town, galloped 

 full tilt through its crooked, empty streets, on across 

 a towered bridge, under a great archway, and drew 

 rein in the castle courtyard. The rain fell as from 

 a shower bath, veiling the fa9ades of faint red brick, 

 the steep, grey roofs, the innumerable windows ; the 

 droitschke drove away ; the silence was monumental. 

 We stood beneath umbrellas in damp indecision, 

 while gargoyles spat contempt upon us ; a human 

 face peered forth from a portico — a seller of photo- 

 graphs, watching us with wan autumnal hope. We 

 raised no false expectations by further dallying, but 

 plunged into the doorway appointed for tourists, 

 paid our fourpence each, and were started in the 

 long path, roped and flagged like a racecourse, that 

 shows the visitor the way round the castle. Following 

 the red guidance of the rope, we mounted slowly, 

 attentively, storey by storey, from the vast banqueting- 

 hall and its gold-inlaid coats-of-mail, to the vaster 

 Riddersal, till the magnificent doorways and ceilings, 

 and the pictures, and the pale, polished parquet swam 

 before our eyes, and admiration, however genuine, 

 could not but be aware of aching legs, and of the 

 faint yet pursuing chill of a building in which no 

 fire is ever lighted. Since the castle was burned down 

 in the winter of 1859, and the nation spent £40,000 



