that was a glorious evening for him. His master’s wife did not like his
always going out in the evening, idling, wasting time, as she called it, and
she shook her head.
But his master only smiled, and said, “He is a young man, my dear, you
know.”
“On Sunday I shall see her,” said Knud to himself, “and I will tell her that
I love her with my whole heart and soul, and that she must be my little wife.
I know I am now only a poor journeyman shoemaker, but I will work and
strive, and become a master in time. Yes, I will speak to her; nothing comes
from silent love. I learnt that from the gingerbread-cake story.”
Sunday came, but when Knud arrived, they were all unfortunately invited
out to spend the evening, and were obliged to tell him so.
Joanna pressed his hand, and said, “Have you ever been to the theatre?
you must go once; I sing there on Wednesday, and if you have time on that
day, I will send you a ticket; my father knows where your master lives.”
How kind this was of her! And on Wednesday, about noon, Knud received a
sealed packet with no address, but the ticket was inside; and in the evening
Knud went, for the first time in his life, to a theatre. And what did he see?
He saw Joanna, and how beautiful and charming she looked! He certainly
saw her being married to a stranger, but that was all in the play, and only a
pretence; Knud well knew that. She could never have the heart, he thought,
to send him a ticket to go and see it, if it had been real. So he looked on, and
when all the people applauded and clapped their hands, he shouted
“hurrah.” He could see that even the king smiled at Joanna, and seemed
delighted with her singing. How small Knud felt; but then he loved her so
dearly, and thought she loved him, and the man must speak the first word,
as the gingerbread maiden had thought. Ah, how much there was for him in
that childish story. As soon as Sunday arrived, he went again, and felt as if
he were about to enter on holy ground. Joanna was alone to welcome him,
nothing could be more fortunate.
