And Petter Nord sat there and believed that it was for love she had called him. He could not know that she believed him vindictive, coarse, degraded, a drunkard and a bully. He who was an example to all his comrades in the working quarter, he could not guess that she had summoned him, in order to preach virtue and good habits to him, in order to say to him, if nothing else helped: “Look at me, Petter Nord! It is your want of judgment, your vindictiveness, that is the cause of my death. Think of it, and begin another life!” He had come filled with love of life and dreams to celebrate love’s festival, and she lay there and thought of plunging him into the black depths of remorse. There must have been something of the glory of the kingly crown shining on her, which made her hesitate so that she decided to question him first. “But, Petter Nord, was it really you who were here with those three terrible men?” He flushed and looked on the ground. Then he had to tell her the whole story of the day with all its shame. In the first place, what unmanliness he had shown in not sooner demanding justice, and how he had only gone because he was forced to it, and then how he had been beaten and whipped instead of beating some one himself. He did not dare to look up while he was speaking; he did expect that even those gentle eyes would judge him with forbearance. He felt that he was robbing himself of all the glory with which she must have surrounded him in her dreams. “But Petter Nord, what would have happened if you had met Halfvorson?” asked Edith, when he had finished. He hung his head even lower. “I saw him well enough,” he said. “He had not gone away. He was working in his garden outside the gates. The boy in the shop told me everything.” “Well, why did you not avenge yourself?” said Edith. He was spared nothing.—But he felt the inquiring glance of her eyes on him and he began obediently: “When the men lay down to sleep on a slope, I went alone to find Halfvorson, for I wished to have him to myself. He was working there, staking his peas. It must have rained in torrents the day before, for the peas had been broken down to the ground; some of the leaves were whipped to ribbons, others covered with earth. It was like a hospital, and Halfvorson was the doctor. He raised them up so gently, brushed away the earth and helped the poor little things to cling to the twigs. I stood and looked on. He did not hear me, and he had no time to look up. I tried to retain my anger by force. But what could I do? I could not fly at him while he was busy with the peas. My time will come afterwards, I thought.