How more than happy she was! She could have knelt down before the whole assemblage to thank God--yes, joyfully with a song, though she did not possess a single true note.
She felt that if all these people came up to thank her she would not be able to control herself, but what would that matter, for he had done it all so well. And not one single person came! Yes, by-the-by, the Frökener Jensens came, but no one else; they were all going. But the old Dean? Yes, he sat there still pondering; a decided desire to speak to her might have made him rise--yes, to say something on the part of the others. It was only now, when almost every one was gone, that he began to move; he raised his eyes, looked inquiringly at her for a few moments, got up heavily, and came towards her at last.
"Yes, dear Frue, it was cleverly done."
"Yes, was it not?"
"Very cleverly done indeed, but I would give a great deal that it had not been done."
"But, Dean?"
"No, I cannot talk about it; there is too much noise here and I am tired--another time; remember me to him; good-bye, Frue." He took Karl's arm and turned to descend.
There was only one who was as moved, nay, overcome, as Fru Rendalen, and that was Karl Vangen. Like her, at the beginning, he had only been intent on the lecture and the lecturer. In his innocence he had never grasped the possibility of any one's feeling otherwise than that this was the right thing, spoken by the right man; but later, chancing to notice the audience at a moment when some question was addressed to them, he began to doubt; this doubt increased until at last he sat there with a beating heart. But that no one should come to Fru Rendalen, no, not one, even, of her former pupils! He knew her face, he saw how she was pained. And now the Dean as well! He let go his arm and seized her hand in both his, he would have liked to hug her; but there were still too many people in the room. He looked at her till the tears sprang to his eyes, and so, notwithstanding, he hugged and kissed her--any one might look who liked. Then he gave his arm a little awkwardly to the Dean, and helped him down.
This made the worthy Fru Rendalen herself again; she hurried, with a lighter step than one could have thought possible, out of the door to the little ante-room, and from there across the courtyard to the house. She looked for her son there, he had just taken off his coat and waistcoat and was going to have a bath; but she could not wait until he had finished, she threw herself on to him, pressing him to her breast, and crying as she exclaimed: "Tomas, dear Tomas, my own Tomas!"
He also had at last realised that something was amiss, and now her look, her manner, confirmed it; besides, she said nothing, gave him no message, although she had remained behind.