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Updated: May 12, 2025
Ditte came out from the kitchen door with a basket on her arm. "Now, you're thinking again, father," said she laughingly, "take care you don't step on the children." Lars Peter pulled himself together and tenderly stroked the rough little heads. "Where are you off to?" asked he. "Oh, to the shop. I want some things for the house." "Let Kristian go, you've quite enough to do without that."
"I only wish he would, or the horse bolt, so he could never find his way back again, nasty brute," said Kristian. None of them liked him any longer. A man came along the footpath down by the marsh, it was their father. The children ran to meet him, and all started to tell what had happened.
She never looked up from her task; but I know she performed it with that unacknowledged pleasure which all girls love and deny, that of being looked upon by noble eyes. On this peculiar Saturday afternoon in May, Kristian Koppig had been witness of the distressful scene over the way. It occurred to 'Tite Poulette that such might be the case, and she stepped to the casement to shut it.
Let Kristian go with you and let him carry your bundle as far as he goes. It'll be a tiresome way for you. I'm sorry I can't go with you!" "Oh, I shall be all right," said Ditte, trying to speak cheerfully, but her voice broke, and suddenly she threw her arms round him. Lars Peter stayed beside her until she had fallen asleep, then went up to bed himself.
Next morning, before Johannes started out, Kristian was sent over with the nag to a neighbor who lived north of the road, and got their horse in exchange. "It belonged to a butcher for many years, so you ought to get on with it," said Lars Peter as they harnessed it. It was long and thin, just the sort for Johannes. As soon as he was in the cart, the horse knew what kind of man held the reins.
Behold Kristian Koppig standing on the floor of the Salle de Condé.
Through the long, enervating summer, the contest lasted; but when at last the cool airs of October came stealing in at the bedside like long-banished little children, Kristian Koppig rose upon his elbow and smiled them a welcome. The physician, blessed man, was kind beyond measure; but said some inexplicable things, which Zalli tried in vain to make him speak in an undertone.
The man grinned and looked taken aback. "Do him harm?" said he loudly. "And who is it sets fire to other folk's houses and sets on peaceful womenfolk, but vagabonds. And that's just the way they begin." But Ditte and Kristian had rushed off. She held him by his hand, scolding him as they went along. "There, you can hear yourself what the man says! And that's what they'll think you are," said she.
Kristian put it down on the little bench underneath the elder; but when later on he crept past, to see if it had been taken, only the tail and the fins remained the cat had eaten it up. Ditte scolded him well, and Kristian had to puzzle his brains once more. "Father might get Klavs, and take them for a drive on Sunday," said he. "They never get anywhere their legs are too old."
Sob, sob, sob; gasps and sighs and stifled ejaculations, her small right hand clinched and beating on her mother's knee; and the mother weeping over her. Kristian Koppig shut his window. Nothing but a generous heart and a Dutchman's phlegm could have done so at that moment. And even thou, Kristian Koppig! for the window closed very slowly.
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