"It was only a business college," said Ole quietly.
"Of course, you are a peddler, yes. But there is no reason why you should be ashamed of that. Is there, Tidemand? I say there is no reason whatever! Does anybody feel called upon to object?"
Tidemand did not answer. The Journalist kept obstinately to the question; he frowned and thought of nothing else, afraid to forget what he had asked about. He began to lose his temper; he demanded a reply in a loud voice.
Mrs. Hanka said suddenly:
"Silence, now. Ojen is going to read another poem."
Both Paulsberg and Irgens made secretly a wry face, but they said nothing; on the contrary, Paulsberg nodded encouragingly. When the noise had subsided a little Ojen got up, stepped back, and said:
"I know this by heart. It is called 'The Power of Love.'"
We rode in a railway carriage through a strange landscape—strange to me, strange to her. We were also strangers to each other; we had never met before. Why is she sitting so quietly? I wondered. And I bent toward her and said, while my heart hammered:
"Are you grieving for somebody, madam? Have you left a friend where you come from—a very dear friend?"
"Yes," she answered, "a very dear friend."