Here
and there an anchor splashes; the anchor-chains tear out of the
hawse-holes in a cloud of rust. The sounds mingle in a ponderous harmony
which rolls in over the city like a jubilant chorus.
Tidemand's tar steamer was ready to weigh anchor. He had come down himself
to see it off. Hanka was with him; they stood there quietly arm in arm.
They glanced at each other every few moments with eyes that were filled
with youth and happiness; the harbour saluted them with a swirl of flags.
When the steamer at last was under way, Tidemand swung his hat in the air
and Hanka waved with her handkerchief. Somebody on the ship waved back a
greeting. The steamer slid quietly out into the fiord.
"Shall we go?" he asked.
And she clung to him closer, and said: "As you will."
Just then another steamer entered the harbour, an enormous leviathan from
whose funnels smoke poured in billowy masses. Tidemand had goods aboard;
he had been waiting for this steamer the last two days, and he said in
great good humour:
"She is also bringing us goods!"
"Yes?" she answered quietly. But he felt, as she looked into his face,
that a quivering joy shot through her being; her arm trembled in his.
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