“I didn’t mean it—you know that. Did that hurt you very much?”
Pelle gazed at her sadly. She looked at him inquisitively. “Was it here?” she said, letting her hand slide down his back. He rose silently, in order to go, but she seized him by the wrist. “Forgive me,” she whispered.
“Aren’t the others coming soon?” asked Pelle harshly. He proposed to be angry with her, as in the old days.
“No! They aren’t coming at all! I’ve deceived you. I wanted to talk to you!” Manna was gasping for breath.
“I thought you didn’t want to have anything more to do with me?”
“Well, I don’t! I only want—” She could not find words, and stamped angrily on the ground. Then she said slowly and solemnly, with the earnestness of a child: “Do you know what I believe? I believe—I love you!”
“Then we can get married when we are old enough!” said Pelle joyfully.
She looked at him for a moment with a measuring glance. The town-hall and the flogging! thought Pelle. He was quite resolved that he would do the beating now; but here she laughed at him. “What a glorious booby you are!” she said, and as though deep in thought, she let a handful of wet earth run down his neck.
Pelle thought for a moment of revenge; then, as though in sport, he thrust his hand into her bosom. She fell back weakly, groping submissively with her hands; a new knowledge arose in him, and impelled him to embrace her violently.
She looked at him in amazement, and tried gently to push his hand away. But it was too late. The boy had broken down her defences.