"But what is it that I am thinking of?" he asked himself half aloud, and when he heard his own voice, he thought, "I can still speak; can I laugh?" And he tried: yes, he could laugh, and he laughed louder and louder, and then it seemed so curious to be sitting there quite alone and laughing, that at last he laughed at himself. Now Hans his companion, who had been sitting by him in the dancing-room, had come out after him,--"Bless me, Ovind, what are you laughing at!" he exclaimed, and stopped in front of the porch. Then Ovind ceased. Hans remained standing, as if waiting to see what would happen next. Ovind got up, looked carefully round, and then said in a low tone,--"Now I will tell you, Hans, why I have been so happy hitherto; it is because I have not really cared for anybody; from the day we care for any one we are no longer glad;" and he burst into tears. "Ovind!" a voice whispered out in the garden; "Ovind!" He stood still and listened; "Ovind!" it said again a little louder. It must be, he thought. "Yes," he answered also in a whisper, dried his eyes quickly, and stepped forth. Then he saw a woman's figure slowly approaching,-- "Are you there?" said she. "Yes," he answered, and stopped. "Who is with you?" "Hans." Hans would go; but Ovind said "No! no!" She now came slowly up to them; it was Marit. "You went so soon away," she said to Ovind. He did not know what to reply. This made her feel embarrassed, and they were all three silent. Then Hans gradually withdrew. The two now stood alone, but they neither looked at each other nor moved. Then Marit said in a whisper, "I have gone the whole evening with this Christmas fare in my pocket for you, Ovind, but I have not been able to give it you before." She then drew out some apples, a slice of yule cake, and a little bottle of home-made wine, which she pushed to him and said he could keep. Ovind took it. "Thank you," he said, and held out his hand; her's was warm; he let it go quickly as if he had burnt himself. "You have danced a great deal this evening." "I have so," she replied; then added, "but you have not danced much!" "No, I have not!" "Why have you not?" "Oh!" "Ovind!" "Yes." "Why did you sit and look at me so?" "Oh!" "Marit!" "Yes." "Why did you not like me to look at you?" "There were so many people." "You have danced a great deal with Jon Hatlen this evening!" "Oh! yes." "He dances well." "Do you think so?" "Don't you?" "Why yes!" "I don't know how it is, but this evening I cannot bear to see you dance with him, Marit!" He turned away; it had cost him much to say it. "I don't understand you, Ovind." "I don't understand it myself; it is stupid of me. Goodbye, Marit, now I must go." He went a step without looking round; then she called after him,--"It is a mistake that which you have seen, Ovind!" He stopped,--"That you are grown up is at least no mistake," said he.