Engel did not swear as a rule, he was too refined a man for that, but almost simultaneously with his heartfelt communion with God, he desired with his whole heart that the devil might take the lot of them. He had recourse to his wet handkerchief again. At the same time the thought was in Milla's mind, "Shall I go?" Engel saw it in her eyes, in the way she moved on her chair. Fürst saw it also. Both felt it like a million electric shocks: but they could not give up their last hope that Milla was too well-bred to increase the scandal. Engel felt that, even if she remained, he should be, from this time forward, a broken, discredited man; Fürst felt that if only Milla would go with him before the altar, a career would still be open to him. But still the Dean did not come! All thoughts centred on this; it became intensely painful. All eyes were fixed on the vestry door. Was he ill, or feigning to be so, so as not to come? Where was the deacon, then? Make him come! Why did not Karl Vangen move? The women in the chancel who had not got over the first fright (there were some who had been obliged to grasp the seats of their chairs to prevent themselves from trembling) were now made really ill by this fresh strain; several began to cry. "Yes," thought Milla; "I am to be pitied, dreadfully to be pitied! Oh, if mother had lived!" And she cried bitterly. Every one had conspired against her, who had done nothing. Would old Green now let her sit there so miserably on the stool of repentance before all these horrid, horrid people! She thus lost sight of the first and important question, and was so tossed about by the feeling of desolation that, when the Dean did at length appear, she felt it consolation, a reward from Heaven.