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Updated: June 16, 2025
"I shall come and see my little sweetheart just as often as I can," said Morten, stroking her hair. The red blood suffused her neck in a sudden wave, and was imperceptibly absorbed in the paleness of her skin, like a dying ember. Hanne's blood came and went in the same way for the merest trifle. Johanna had inherited her mother's bashfulness and unspeakable charm, and also her capricious temper.
But the cold and its sister, hunger, came every day to look in upon them. On the third floor, away from the court, Widow Johnsen sat in the corner by the stove. Hanne's little girl lay cowering on the floor, on a tattered patchwork counterpane. Through the naked window one saw only ice, as though the atmosphere were frozen down to the ground.
He often vowed to himself that he would not allow her to make a fool of him but he always went over to see her again. He must try to conquer her and then take the consequences. One day, when work was over, he strolled across to see her. There was no one on the gallery, so he went into the little kitchen. "Is that you, Pelle?" Hanne's voice sounded from the living-room. "Come in, then!"
Hanne's child had to live too, and they eat a lot at her age." And so she was back in her troubles again. The nurse came and told Pelle that he must go now, and he rose and bent over the old woman to say farewell, strangely moved at the thought that she had done so much for him, and now scarcely knew him.
They had laid the feather-bed over themselves cross-wise, when it comfortably covered all three; their daytime clothes they laid over their feet. Little Marie lay in the middle. No harm could come to her there. They talked at random about indifferent matters. Hanne's voice sounded loud and cheerful in the darkness as though it came from a radiant countryside.
sang Hanne, and the child sang with her she could sing already! Hanne's clear, quiet eyes rested on the child, and her expression was as joyful as though fortune had really come to her. She was like a young widow who has lived her share of life, and in the "Ark" every one addressed her as Widow Hanne.
She was like a fury, turning her head, quick as lightning, now to one side, now to the other, and listening to every sound, ready to break out again! Ah, she was protecting her child now that it was too late! She was like a spitting cat. "The youngest of all the lordlin's," sang the children down in the court. That was Hanne's song.
They say you're no man, or you would have managed to clip Hanne's feathers." Pelle gazed at her, wondering; he said nothing, but looked at her and shook his head. "What are you staring at me for?" she said, placing herself aggressively in front of him. "Perhaps you think I'm afraid to say what I like to you? Don't you stare at me with that face, or you'll get one in the mouth!"
Hanne's little daughter stared silently out of the window, with the deep, wondering gaze of her mother. "Don't be afraid," Pelle shouted to the old woman; "we are coming to help you now!" When little Paul caught sight of Pelle he wrenched himself away from Madam Johnsen and ran out onto the gallery.
"There was indeed a draught spoken of between us, noble sir," stammered the old woman, "but it was not for the Duke Casimir, nor yet for for any evil purpose." I saw the Friar Laurence incline his head a little forward and whisper in Hanne's ear from his place behind her. At the words she clasped her hands and fell on the floor, grovelling: "I will say aught that you bid me, kind sir.
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