wriggle their tails a bit afore they gie theirsels oop. Isn't it true what a' say, Maren?"
The man sat immoveable on his box and did not answer. He thought it quite beneath his semi-clerical position to join in the gossip of such blasphemers who made fun of the Provst's coachman, and took Miss Ragnhild's name in vain.
At this moment the hymn came to an end in the church, the porch-door opened and the people streamed out.
Among the men who had been assembling by the entrance to await the parish meeting was one who was the object of unusual attention on all sides. He was a middle-aged man, in peasant's clothing, tall, thin, and somewhat bent, with long drooping arms and a remarkably small, flat head. His face was of a peculiar feline type, clever and alert, with small, red-rimmed eyes, and a thin red beard.
Most of the men went up to him with outstretched hand, and an enquiring glance, which he regularly answered by drawing up his mouth to a distorted smile, and drooping one eyelid.
Suddenly the cluster of people divided, and Pastor Hansted appeared in his gown and ruff.
Although he had preached several times before, both here and at Veilby, he looked pale and fatigued, and greeted the assembled people with visible embarrassment; they also uncovered somewhat unwillingly. The man with the cat's face did not touch his hat at all but remained
