BERTEL. The wind!—Thy old tricks, Holger,—always dreaming some strange thing.
HOLGER. (Recalled by BERTEL'S words to something else) Didst thou pass an old woman on the road—near here?
BERTEL. Not a soul nearer than the town gate. (HOLGER stands thinking, absorbed) Come, boy, eat,—eat! See how Steen eats!
HOLGER. (Breaks through his abstraction and reverts to his bright self) Oh, Uncle Bertel,—I'm too glad to eat!
BERTEL. (More seriously) Thou art right, lad,—fasting were better than feasting this day in Tralsund!—they say,—do you know what they say in the town?
HOLGER. What?
BERTEL. They say—that to-night in the great church—when the offerings are laid upon the altar for the Christ child,—something will happen!
(STEEN has finished his porridge, puts the bowl on the shelf near him, seizes his cloak and cap from the peg near the hearth and stands eager to be gone.)
HOLGER. What?
BERTEL. Who can say? All day the folk have been pouring into the town as never before. The market place is crowded, every inn is full. No church but the cathedral could hold such a multitude. Never have I seen such excitement, such fervor!