She now came slowly up to them; it was Marit.
"You went so soon away," she said to Ovind.
He did not know what to reply. This made her feel embarrassed, and they
were all three silent. Then Hans gradually withdrew. The two now stood
alone, but they neither looked at each other nor moved. Then Marit said
in a whisper, "I have gone the whole evening with this Christmas fare
in my pocket for you, Ovind, but I have not been able to give it you
before." She then drew out some apples, a slice of yule cake, and a
little bottle of home-made wine, which she pushed to him and said he
could keep.
Ovind took it. "Thank you," he said, and held out his hand; her's was
warm; he let it go quickly as if he had burnt himself.
"You have danced a great deal this evening."
"I have so," she replied; then added, "but you have not danced much!"
"No, I have not!"
"Why have you not?"
"Oh!"
"Ovind!"
"Yes."
"Why did you sit and look at me so?"
"Oh!"
"Marit!"
"Yes."
"Why did you not like me to look at you?"
"There were so many people."
"You have danced a great deal with Jon Hatlen this evening!"
"Oh! yes."
"He dances well."
"Do you think so?"
"Don't you?"
"Why yes!"
"I don't know how it is, but this evening I cannot bear to see you
dance with him, Marit!"
He turned away; it had cost him much to say it.
"I don't understand you, Ovind."
"I don't understand it myself; it is stupid of me. Goodbye, Marit, now
I must go."
He went a step without looking round; then she called after him,--"It
is a mistake that which you have seen, Ovind!"
He stopped,--"That you are grown up is at least no mistake," said he.
He did not say what she had expected, and therefore she was silent; but
at this moment she saw the light of a pipe before her; it was her
grandfather who had just turned the corner and now passed by. He stood
still. "Are you there, Marit?"
"Yes."
"Who are you talking with?"
"Ovind."
"Who did you say?"
"Ovind Pladsen."
"Oh J the peasant lad at the little farm!--Come in directly!"