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Updated: May 12, 2025
As Lars Peter came in, the flames from the open fireplace were flickering towards the ceiling, the room was full of a delicious fragrance, coffee and something or other being fried. Kristian was kneeling in front of the fire, feeding it with heather and dried sticks, and Ditte stood over a spluttering frying-pan, stirring with all her might.
The speaker's cheeks were burning red. Zalli wrung her hands. "It is nothing, mother; do not go near him." "But the pay, my child." "The pay matters not." "But he will bring it here; he wants the chance." That was the trouble, sure enough. About this time Kristian Koppig lost his position in the German importing house where, he had fondly told his mother, he was indispensable.
"Find your own way out!" said she harshly, fumbling about for Povl, who was sleeping on a bundle of rags; she was angry. "Now you shall go to bed for punishment," said she. Kristian was sobbing all the time. "Don't let mother whip me, don't let her!" he said over and over again. He put his arms round Ditte's neck as if seeking refuge there. And this put an end to her anger.
I must say that in this crisis Stuart Thario displayed all his soldierly qualities to the full. Sweeping aside his domestic concerns as he would at the order of mobilization, he became swift, decisive, vigorous. The first call he put through was to the Kristian IV Hotel, engaging every available empty room so that we might preempt as much of the switchboard as possible.
She prepared everything as far as possible beforehand, taught sister Else her work, and showed her where everything was kept. She was a thoughtful child, easily managed. It was more difficult with Kristian. Ditte was troubled at the thought of what would happen, when she was not there to keep him in order. Every day she spoke seriously to him.
"I'd rather give it to his father but it's better to keep out of it. We're of no account, you see!" Kristian came in through the kitchen door. "When I'm bigger, then I'll creep back here at night and set fire to his farm," said he, with flashing eyes. "What's that you say, boy d'you want to send us all to jail?" shouted Lars Peter, aghast.
For a moment more the mute and the leper stood in sight, while the former adjusted his heavy burden; then, without one backward glance upon the unkind human world, turning their faces toward the ridge in the depths of the swamp known as the Leper's Land, they stepped into the jungle, disappeared, and were never seen again. Kristian Koppig was a rosy-faced, beardless young Dutchman.
There's been nothing the matter with her this winter that I know of." "Well, you may be sure there's something," said the old woman positively. "Let one of the children run over there in the morning." "Yes, if you've had warning. Jacob Kristian gave good enough warning himself when he went and died. But we were good friends for many years, he and me." "Did he show himself?" asked Lasse solemnly.
A man on a cart told her he had seen a boy seven or eight years old, down by the marsh. She rushed down and there was Kristian. He stood outside a hut, howling, the inhabitants gathered round him, and a man holding him firmly by his collar. "Come to look for this young rascal?" said he. "Ay, we've caught him, here he is.
As she did so, the marvellous delicacy of Kristian Koppig moved him to draw in one of his shutters. Both young heads came out at one moment, while at the same instant "Rap, rap, rap, rap, rap!" clanked the knocker on the wicket.
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