The room was crammed all the afternoon with proud and delighted villagers. After a time they were obliged to throw both doors and windows open to get a little fresh air into the stifling atmosphere. The coffee pot was kept boiling all the afternoon. Even Hansen the weaver appeared at last, and greeted the young couple with his distorted and ambiguous smile.
Emanuel was thrown into a curious state of mind at receiving the congratulations of all these people before he had had any real talk with Hansine, nay, before he had even had her consent from her own lips. He began to be almost jealous of that big red-haired friend who had planted herself there by her side like a guard, and who sat caressing Hansine's hand in her lap as if they were the two who were engaged. He was speculating all the time how he should manage to get Hansine out of this person's power and have her to himself.
At last he took an opportunity of getting near enough to ask her, without any of the others hearing, if they should not go and walk in the garden together.
She rose at once. But Ane followed. It was just as if she—Hansine's dearest friend—felt herself entitled to share their confidences. This time Emanuel had some difficulty in controlling his impatience, and after they had walked about for a few minutes, he proposed returning to the sitting-room.
