"Well, then, I started on what I wanted to say all along. 'There was
a serious oversight made in bringing her here to begin with,' said I.
'An oversight?' 'Yes. In the first place, she ought never to have been
sent across the country at all in the state she was in.' He looks at
me stiffly. 'No, that's perfectly true,' says he. 'But it's nothing to
do with us here, you know.' 'And in the second place,' said I, 'she
ought certainly not to have been in the prison for full two months
without any notice taken of her condition by the authorities here.'
That put him out, I could see; he said nothing for quite a while. 'Are
you instructed to act on her behalf?' says he at last. 'Yes, I am,'
said I. Well, then, he started on about how pleased they had been with
her, and telling me over again all they'd taught her and done for her
there--taught her to write too, he said. And the little girl had been
put out to nurse with decent people, and so on. Then I told him how
things were at home, with Inger away. Two youngsters left behind,
and only a hired woman to look after them, and all the rest. 'I've a
statement from her husband,' said I, 'that I can submit whether the
case be taken up for thorough revision, or an application be made
for a pardon.' 'I'd like to see that statement,' says the Governor.
'Right,' said I. 'I'll bring it along tomorrow in visiting hours.'"

Isak sat listening--it was thrilling to hear, a wonderful tale from
foreign parts. He followed Geissler's mouth with slavish eyes.

Geissler went on: "I went straight back to the hotel and wrote out a
statement; did the whole thing myself, you understand, and signed it
'Isak Sellanraa.' Don't imagine, though, I said a word against the way
they'd managed things in the prison. Not a word. Next day I went along
with the paper. 'Won't you sit down?' says the Governor, the moment I
got inside the door. He read through what I'd written, nodded here and