“The old folks had told her we were there, and asked if she wouldn’t like me to read something from God’s word with her. But she’d rather see you. The father was angry and didn’t want to allow it. ‘She has never thought about young men before,’ he said, ‘and she shall stand before the throne of God and the Lamb quite pure.’ But I said, ‘Do you know so precisely that the good God cares anything for what you call purity, Ole Jensen? Let the two of them come together, if they can take any joy in it.’ Then we shut the door behind you—and how was it then?” Sort turned toward Pelle.
“You know,” replied Pelle crossly. “She just lay there and looked at me as though she was thinking: ‘That’s what he looks like—and he’s come a long way here.’ I could see by her eyes that you had spoken of me and that she knew about all my swinishness.”
Sort nodded.
“Then she held out her hand to me. How like she is to one of God’s angels already—I thought—but it’s a pity in one who’s so young. And then I went close to her and took her hand.”
“And what then?” Sort drew nearer to Pelle. His eyes hung expectantly on Pelle’s lips.
“Then she stretched out her mouth to me a little—and at that very moment I forgot what sort of a hog I’d been—and I kissed her!”
“Didn’t she say anything to you—not a word?”
“She only looked at me with those eyes that you can’t understand. Then I didn’t know what I—what I ought to do next, so I came away.”
“Weren’t you afraid that she might transfer death to you?”
“No; why should I be? I didn’t think about it. But she could never think of a thing like that—so child-like as she was!”