The fourth person of the group was sitting with his back to the door, and did not move, for he was deaf; but when at length the Swede, who was still bowing, attracted his attention, he turned round heavily on his chair and nodded deafly to the new-comers.  This person’s real name had almost disappeared from the memory of man, for he had been nicknamed “Woodlouse” among his acquaintance.  Mr. Woodlouse passed his time in a dingy den in the magistrate’s office, where he either slept or occupied himself in sorting documents and papers.  But there he had grown to be almost a necessity, for he had the special gift of knowing the contents of every paper, and the name of every single person who for years had sought information at the office.  He could stand in the middle of the room and point to the different shelves, and say, apparently without effort, what each contained, and what was missing.  He had thus gone down as a kind of living inventory from magistrate to magistrate, and as his special knowledge increased he endeavoured to get his salary raised, so that he might give himself up recklessly to his two ruling passions, which were drinking beer and reading novels at night.

As Marianne went through the room she moved her grandfather’s chair close to the kitchen door, and gave him a meaning look.  He nodded to show that he understood her wishes.  She then said good night to the old man, and went into the kitchen, from whence a little dark staircase led upstairs to her room.

Marianne locked her door and went to bed.  She was so tired every night that she could scarcely keep her eyes open while she undressed, and she fell asleep the moment she got into bed.  Under her the noise of voices continued, varied by quarrelling and cursing, which mingled with the dreams of her heavy and broken slumber.  In the morning her hair and pillow were damp with perspiration; she was chilled with cold, and was even more tired than when she went to rest.

The talking soon went on again as briskly as ever.  Martin related how he had been up to the office that morning, intending to speak to the young Consul personally.  He wished to complain of the captain who had told tales about him.

He did not, however, get so far as the Consul, but one of the clerks, a stupid lout with an eyeglass, had come out and told him that he would get no employment on a ship belonging to the firm, until he had been to the Seamen’s school, and gave up drinking.  As he told his story there was an evil glare in his eyes, which were large and bright like Marianne’s, but piercing and cruel.  In the pale face there was also the same trace of weakness as in his sister’s; but Martin was tall and bony, and his arms were strong and powerful, and he gesticulated with them as he talked, and gave force to his words by striking the table with his fist.  He became every moment more violent, as he got heated by drink and argument.

He was not going to the school to please Garman and Worse; and as to his drinking, what had the young Consul got to do with that?  But they should see what he would do.  And with a mighty oath, he shook his clenched fist in the direction of Sandsgaard.