There was a knock, and Stolpe made haste to lock the chest and hide the key, while Frederik went to the door. They looked at one another uneasily and stood listening.
“It is only Ellen,” said Frederik, and he returned, followed by a tall dark girl with an earnest bearing. She had a veil over her face, and before her mouth her breath showed like a pearly tissue.
“Ah, that’s the lass!” cried Stolpe, laughing. “What folly—we were quite nervous, just as nervous as in the old days. And you’re abroad in the streets at this hour of night! And in this weather?” He looked at her affectionately; one could see that she was his darling. Outwardly they were very unlike.
She greeted Pelle with the tiniest nod, but looked at him earnestly. There was something still and gracious about her that fascinated him. She wore dark clothes, without the slightest adornment, but they were of good sound stuff.
“Won’t you change?” asked the mother, unbuttoning her cloak. “You are quite wet, child.”
“No, I must go out again at once,” Ellen replied. “I only wanted to peep in.”
“But it’s really very late,” grumbled Stolpe. “Are you only off duty now?”
“Yes, it’s not my going-out day.”
“Not to-day again? Yes, it’s sheer slavery, till eleven at night!”
“That’s the way things are, and it doesn’t make it any better for you to scold me,” said Ellen courageously.