"Good evening," he said again, still more
softly, and drew nearer.

She was aware of a gentle pressure and had to raise her eyes. They
conveyed a bashful message half confident, half timid. It was a rapid
glance, by which no one was enlightened or scandalised. He looked down
at her, while he stroked his beard, but either because he had nothing
more to say--he was not talkative--or that he could not say what he
wished; he became absolutely silent. In the quiet way which was
peculiar to him he turned and left her. He was on at once by his
friends, and for the rest of the evening she only saw him now and
again, and always at a distance.

He did not dance, but she did. Everybody said how "sweet" she was (it
was said with all respect); and that evening she really did beam with
happiness. In whatever part of the room Aksel Aaroe chanced to be, she
felt conscious of his presence, felt a secret delight in whirling past
him. His eyes followed her, his nearness made all and everything
resplendent.

Standing in the doorway was a heavy, sturdy fellow, who had
constituted himself the critic of the assemblage. He appeared to be
between thirty and forty; nearer the latter; he had a weather-beaten,
coarsely-moulded, but spirited face, black hair, and hazel eyes; his
figure approached the gigantic. Every one in the room knew him;
Hjalmar Olsen, the fearless commander of one of the largest steamers.

He scanned the dancers as they passed him, but gave the palm to the
little one in the red dress; she was the pleasantest to look at: not
only was she a fine girl, but her buoyant happiness seemed to infect
him. When Aksel Aaroe approached, Hjalmar Olsen received a share of the
love glances which streamed from her eyes. She danced every dance.
Hjalmar Olsen was tall enough to catch glimpses of her in all parts of
the room. She also noticed him; he soon became a lighthouse in her
voyage, but a lighthouse which interested itself in the ships. Thus he
now felt that she was in danger so near to Peter Klausson's waistcoat.
He knew Peter Klausson.

Her tiny feet tripped a waltz, while the plait kept up an accompanying
polka. Certainly Peter Klausson did press her too close to his
waistcoat!

Olsen therefore sought her out as soon as the waltz was over, but it
was not so easy to secure a dance; a waltz was the first one for which
she was free, and she gave him that. Just as this was arranged, every
one pressed towards the platform, on which