But there seemed to be no seat vacant except on the front bench. So to the front bench she went, to the great sport of the multitude; for she was well known. She was no other than "Machine Martha." Two years before she had come to the Point with a child and a large and a small sewing-machine, with which she supported herself, for she was capable. She had deserted her husband with an itinerant tradesman, who dealt, among other things, in sewing-machines. He had deceived her. Since then she had fallen into wretched habits of drunkenness, and had become thoroughly degraded. Her face was rough and her hair disheveled. Nevertheless, she still seemed to have sufficient energy left to raise a storm. She seated herself directly beside the lady, who shrank away, for Martha smelled strongly of beer. The old juggler had noticed the involuntary movement the lady made. He was on hand at once, and, in a hoarse, rough voice, ordered Martha to take another place. She must have been abashed herself by all the silk she had come into contact with, for she now got up and moved away. As she was watching her Magnhild descried Skarlie. At his side Martha paused. Soon she came forward again. "I will sit there, I tell you," said she, and resuming her seat she placed the child on the bench beside her. The old juggler left his preparations. He had grown angry. "You cursed"--here he must have remembered the fine company he was in, for he continued: "It costs money to sit here." He spoke Swedish. "Here is a mark!" said the woman, holding out the coin as she spoke. "Very well," said he, hoarsely; "but sit on another bench. Will the ladies and gentlemen please move closer together?" he begged of those on the nearest benches. Whether his directions were followed or not, Martha did not stir. "The devil a bit will I move," said she. "Let her stay where she is," whispered the lady. "Not for any sum," replied the gallant old man. "These seats are reserved for the highest aristocracy," and he took hold of the child. But now Martha sprang up like one possessed. "You Swedish troll!" cried she, "will you let my child alone?" The crowd burst into stormy shouts of laughter, and encouraged thereby, she continued: "Highest aristocracy? Pshaw! She is a--she, as well as I." The word shall remain unwritten; but Martha looked significantly at the lady. A volley of laughter, and then, as at the word of command, the silence of the grave. The lady had started up, proud and beautiful. She looked around for her escort. She wished to leave. Tande was standing not very far off, with a couple of travelers, who had begged to be presented to the well-known composer. The lady's flaming eyes met his. He gazed back at her intently. Every one was looking at him. But no one could penetrate his gaze, any farther than they could have penetrated a polished steel ball.