The people who were in the house came to the window at once, also a few in the neighbouring house; a passer-by stopped and stared at them, then moved on and told the tale all the way down the street. Andersen took the opportunity of mentioning his bad eyes; the doctor would also have to look at them presently. As they walked on they had spectators from open windows and down the street; they got many a greeting. They were young; it did not require much to make them forget what had so recently happened, and they began to feel that they might live very comfortably here. Amongst those who greeted them was a very young man with masses of hair, fair, arched features, slightly built, but tall; there was something refined and rather shy about him. As they looked at him he blushed. "By Jove! you have made a conquest there," whispered Kallem. Shortly after they met a very odd-looking fellow, slouching along in a knitted jacket, with a leathern apron in front; dusty black hair, an unwashed face, indeed it was begrimed with dirt; he was carrying some tools in his thin, narrow hands, which were appended to unusually long arms that swung in a kind of bow behind him; had they swung both together they must undoubtedly have come into collision. He wore no hat, his short clipped hair showed the entire shape of his head. His forehead was neither broad nor high, but peculiarly well-shaped; long in the jaw, with projecting bones. His small, cold eyes and tightly pressed lips gave him a cynical look. His nose was flat and small, and his chin pointed. "Do just look at that man!" whispered Kallem. "Disgusting!" she replied. The man now passed close beside them, scanning them carefully. Kallem returned the glance, and when they had gone past they turned to have a mutual look at each other. An old woman came hobbling along. "Who is that man?" asked Kallem. She looked at him and then after the man. "It is Kristen Larssen." "Is he a locksmith?" "What kind do you say?" "Locksmith!" "Yes, he is. But he is also a watchmaker and gunsmith; in fact, everything you like." The beach street was open to the sea, and without even a stone wall in front of it. Things lay rotting in the sea as also on land. There was an unfinished appearance about the whole town; a large house next to a small one, then a house built of stone, then a wooden one, all of them erected in haste and as cheaply as possible. The houses were not even in a line, the street was on the whole scarcely bearable. The people they met were neither town nor country folk, they were "wary but friendly," as Kallem said; "medium goods." They had now arrived at the market-place, where the road turned up to the church, tall and graceful. It was here they had met Josephine on their way up; for up to the right by the church, in a park, lay their house with the garden in front; they could, however, not see it from where they were.