The pastor meanwhile continued his way, which he did not find very pleasant when he had to pass among the cottages.

Ragged urchins waylaid him, the girls and the old women put their heads out of the doors and gaped after him, while a group of children who were grovelling on the shore cheered him lustily.
Wherever he turned, all reeked of filth and poverty.
As Torpander could get nothing out of Anders Begmand, whom he found huddled up in a corner of the room, he went upstairs and knocked at Marianne's door.

No one said "Come in," and he therefore ventured to open the door slightly and look into the room.
Poor man! he was so appalled that he could scarcely keep his feet.

There she lay, his own beloved Marianne; her mouth half open, and moaning incessantly.

Her cheeks, which were sunken, were of an ashy white, and in the dark hollows round her eyes were standing small drops of perspiration.