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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.
One evening, when work was over, as he came homeward from Beck's workshop, he heard the children singing Hanne's song down in the courtyard.
They sat out on the gallery under the green foliage, Hanne's face glowing to rival the climbing pelargonium; she kept on swinging her foot, and continually touched Pelle's leg with the tip of her shoe. She was nervously full of life, and kept on asking the time. When her mother went into the kitchen to make coffee, she took Pelle's hand and smilingly stroked it. "Come with me," she said.
The feeling of mastery over his means continually increased in strength, and lent assurance to his bearing. He had to make up for neglecting his work, and at such times he was doubly busy, rising early and sitting late at his bench. He kept away from his neighbors on the third story; but when he heard Hanne's light step on the planking over there, he used to peep furtively across the well.
He stood still in the tunnel-like entry; Hanne herself stood in the midst of a circle, and the children were dancing round her and singing: "I looked from the lofty mountain Down over vale and lea, And I saw a ship come sailing, Sailing, sailing, I saw a ship come sailing, And on it were lordlings three." On Hanne's countenance lay a blind, fixed smile; her eyes were tightly closed.
Your blood is too unruly," said the mother, "and mouths were meant to be used." During the journey Pelle was reserved. Now and again he pressed Hanne's hand, which lay, warm and slightly perspiring, in his upon the seat.
But he wasn't going to wrangle with women. Hanne's mother came storming out onto her gallery. "That's a shameless lie!" she cried. "Pelle's name ain't going to be dragged into this the other may be who he likes!" Overhead the hearse-driver came staggering out onto his gallery. "The princess there has run a beam into her body," he rumbled, in his good- natured bass. "What a pity I'm not a midwife!
And from time to time some one completed his term, and was carried out of the dark corridors and borne away on the dead-cart as always. But in the "Ark" there was no change to be observed. It happened one day that he went over to call on Widow Johnsen. She looked very melancholy sitting there as she turned her old soldiers' trousers and attended to Hanne's child, which promised to be a fine girl.
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.
The feeling of mastery over his means continually increased in strength, and lent assurance to his bearing. He had to make up for neglecting his work, and at such times he was doubly busy, rising early and sitting late at his bench. He kept away from his neighbors on the third story; but when he heard Hanne's light step on the planking over there, he used to peep furtively across the well.
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