He opened the door. She stood still, her eyes dilated. From them shone the great question.
"Why do you look at me like that? What do you want me to do?" he asked. "Come to your senses. Do not brood over the past. I will do all I can for the children. I think that is all you can reasonably ask."
Then she gave up. She stretched her arms out after him as the door closed. She heard his steps down the stairs. He paused a moment as if uncertain which way to take. Hanka ran to the window, but she heard his office door open. Then all was quiet.
Too late! How could she have expected otherwise? Good God, how could she have expected otherwise! How she had nourished that vain hope night and day for a whole month! He had gone; he said no, and he went away. Most likely he even objected to her staying with the children!
Mrs. Hanka moved the following day. She took a room she saw advertised in the paper, the first room she came across; it was near the Fortress. She left home in the morning while Tidemand was out. She kissed the children and wept. She put her keys in an envelope and wrote a line to her husband. Tidemand found it upon his return; found the keys and this farewell, which was only a line or two.
Tidemand went out again. He sauntered through the streets, down toward the harbour. He followed the docks far out. A couple of hours went by, then he returned the same way. He looked at his watch; it was one o'clock. Suddenly he ran across Coldevin.
Coldevin stood immovable behind a corner and showed only his head. When he saw Tidemand coming straight toward him he stepped out in the street and bowed.
Tidemand looked up abstractedly.
And Coldevin asked:
"Pardon me, isn't this Mr. Irgens I see down there—that gentleman in grey?"