His nature was at this time undergoing a great change. There was an end of his old careless acceptance of things. He laughed less and performed apparently trivial actions with an earnestness which had its comical side. And he began to display an appearance of self-respect which seemed ill-justified by his position and his poverty.
One evening, when work was over, as he came homeward from Beck’s workshop, he heard the children singing Hanne’s song down in the courtyard. He stood still in the tunnel-like entry; Hanne herself stood in the midst of a circle, and the children were dancing round her and singing:
“I looked from the lofty mountain
Down over vale and lea,
And I saw a ship come sailing,
Sailing, sailing,
I saw a ship come sailing,
And on it were lordlings three.”
On Hanne’s countenance lay a blind, fixed smile; her eyes were tightly closed. She turned slowly about as the children sang, and she sang softly with them:
“The youngest of all the lordlings
Who on the ship did stand…”
But suddenly she saw Pelle and broke out of the circle. She went up the stairs with him. The children, disappointed, stood calling after her.
“Aren’t you coming to us this evening?” she asked. “It is so long since we have seen you.”
“I’ve no time. I’ve got an appointment,” replied Pelle briefly.
“But you must come! I beg you to, Pelle.” She looked at him pleadingly, her eyes burning.
Pelle’s heart began to thump as he met her gaze. “What do you want with me?” he asked sharply.