And he talked on, telling all there was to tell, until he, too, remembered that they ought to get down from the mountain before dark.
Edward walked on in front, deep in thought; the other followed after with his box.
There, on the slope of the hill, they could hear the roaring of the waves as if in the air; it was like the low murmur of a distant crowd, but high above their heads. They felt it getting very cold; the moon was up, but no stars were to be seen; yes, one solitary one peeped forth.
"And what made you think of doing this?" asked Edward, turning round.
Ole stood still too. He moved his box backward and forward from one hand to the other; should he make a bold venture and tell all?
Edward understood at once that he had not heard everything, and that what remained to be told was the most important part of all.
"Can't you tell me?" he asked, as though it was quite immaterial.
"Yes, I think I can;" but he kept on changing his box from hand to hand without saying a word.
Then Edward became impatient and began trying to persuade him, to which Ole had no objections, but still he hesitated.
"Surely it is nothing wicked?"