by some strange sympathy she felt herself strengthened and
vivified.

Nevertheless she did get one impression from his story. It took her
into the workman's quarter, into a new world, full of tumultuous
hopes and strength. How they longed and trusted! How they hated and
suffered!

"How happy the oppressed are," she said.

It occurred to her, with a longing for life, that there might be
something for her there, she who always needed oppression and
compulsion to make life worth living.

"If I were well," she said, "perhaps I would have gone there with
you. I should enjoy working my way up with some one I liked."

Petter Nord started. Here was the confession that he had been
waiting for the whole time. "Oh, can you not live!" he prayed.
And he beamed with happiness.

She became observant. "That is love," she said to herself. "And now
he believes that I am also in love. What madness, that Värmland boy!"

She wished to bring him back to reason, but there was something in
Petter Nord on that day of victory that restrained her. She had not
the heart to spoil his happy mood. She felt compassion for his
foolishness and let him live in it. "It does not matter, as I am to
die so soon," she said to herself.