She hung heavily on his arm and stood with her eyes fixed unwaveringly on the speakers’ platform. Her hands busied themselves nervously about her hair. “You are so restless, child,” said the mother, who had seated herself at their feet. “You might let me lean back against your knee; I was sitting so comfortably before.”
“Yes,” said Hanne, and she put herself in the desired position. Her voice sounded quite excited.
“Pelle,” she whispered suddenly, “if he comes over to us I shan’t answer him. I shan’t.”
“No, but it does happen sometimes that men come and speak to one. But then you’ll say I belong to you, won’t you?”
Pelle was going to refuse, but a shudder ran through her. She’s feverish, he thought compassionately; one gets fever so easily in the “Ark.” It comes up with the smell out of the sewer. She must have lied to me nicely, he thought after a while. Women are cunning, but he was too proud to question her. And then the crowd shouted “Hurrah!” so that the air rang. Pelle shouted with them; and when they had finished the man had disappeared.
They went over to the Hill, the old woman keeping her few steps in advance. Hanne hummed as she went; now and then she looked questioningly at Pelle—and then went on humming.
“It’s nothing to do with me,” said Pelle morosely. “But it’s not right of you to have lied to me.”
“I lie to you? But Pelle!” She gazed wonderingly into his eyes.
“Yes, that you do! There’s something between you and him.”
Hanne laughed, a clear, innocent laugh, but suddenly broken off. “No, Pelle, no, what should I have to do with him? I have never even seen him before. I have never even once kissed a man—yes, you, but you are my brother.”
“I don’t particularly care about being your brother—not a straw, and you know that!”
“Have I done anything to offend you? I’m sorry if I have.” She seized his hand.
“I want you for my wife!” cried Pelle passionately.
Hanne laughed. “Did you hear, mother? Pelle wants me for his wife!” she cried, beaming.
“Yes, I see and hear more than you think,” said Madam Johnsen shortly.
Hanne looked from one to the other and became serious. “You are so good, Pelle,” she said softly, “but you can’t come to me bringing me something from foreign parts—I know everything about you, but I’ve never dreamed of you at night. Are you a fortunate person?”