My foot continued to trouble me a good deal. It often itched at nights, and kept me awake; a sudden spasm would shoot through it, and in changeable weather it was full of gout. It was like that for many days. But it did not make me lame, after all.

The days went on.

Herr Mack had returned, and I knew it soon enough. He took my boat away from me, and left me in difficulties, for it was still the closed season, and there was nothing I could shoot. But why did he take the boat away from me like that? Two of Herr Mack’s folk from the quay had rowed out with a stranger in the morning.

I met the Doctor.

“They have taken my boat away,” I said.

“There’s a new man come,” he said. “They have to row him out every day and back in the evening. He’s investigating the sea-floor.”

The newcomer was a Finn. Herr Mack had met him accidentally on board the steamer; he had come from Spitzbergen with some collections of scales and small sea-creatures; they called him Baron. He had been given a big room and another smaller one in Herr Mack’s house. He caused quite a stir in the place.

“I am in difficulties about meat; I might ask Edwarda for something for this evening,” I thought. I walked down to Sirilund. I noticed at once that Edwarda was wearing a new dress. She seemed to have grown; her dress was much longer now.

“Excuse my not getting up,” she said, quite shortly, and offered her hand.

“My daughter is not very well, I’m sorry to say,” said Herr Mack. “A chill — she has not been taking care of herself . . . You came to ask about your boat, I suppose? I shall have to lend you another one instead. It’s not a new one, but as long as you bail it out every now and then . . . We’ve a scientist come to stay with us, you see, and with a man like that, of course, you understand . . . He has no time to spare; works all day and comes home in the evening. Don’t go now till he comes; you will be interested in meeting him. Here’s his card, with coronet and all; he’s a Baron. A very nice man. I met him quite by accident.”

Aha, I thought, so they don’t ask you to supper. Well, thank Heaven, I only came down by way of a trial; I can go home again — I’ve still some fish left in the hut. Enough for a meal, I daresay. Basta!

The Baron came in. A little man, about forty, with a long, narrow face, prominent cheek bones, and a thinnish black beard. His glance was sharp and penetrating, but he wore strong glasses. His shirt studs, too, were ornamented with a little five-pointed coronet, like the one on his card. He stooped a little, and his thin hands were blue-veined, but the nails were like yellow metal.

“Delighted, Herr Lieutenant. Have you been here long, may I ask?”

“A few months.”

A pleasant man. Herr Mack asked him to tell us about his scales and sea-things, and he did so willingly — told us what kind of clay there was round Korholmerne — went into his room and fetched a sample of weed from the White Sea. He was constantly lifting up his right forefinger and shifting his thick gold spectacles back and forward on his nose. Herr Mack was most interested. An hour passed.

The Baron spoke of my accident — that unfortunate shot. Was I well again now? Pleased to hear it.

Now who had told him of that? I asked:

“And how did you hear of that, Baron?”

“Oh, who was it, now? Fr?ken Mack, I think. Was it not you, Fr?ken Mack?”

Edwarda flushed hotly.

I had come so poor! for days past, a dark misery had weighed me down. But at the stranger’s last words a joy fluttered through me on the instant. I did not look at Edwarda, but in my mind I thanked her: Thanks, for having spoken of me, named my name with your tongue, though it be all valueless to you. Godnat.

I took my leave. Edwarda still kept her seat, excusing herself, for politeness’ sake, by saying she was unwell. Indifferently she gave me her hand.

And Herr Mack stood chatting eagerly with the Baron. He was talking of his grandfather, Consul Mack:

“I don’t know if I told you before, Baron; this diamond here was a gift from King Carl Johan, who pinned it to my grandfather’s breast with his own hands.”

I went out to the front steps; no one saw me to the door. I glanced in passing through the windows of the sitting-room; and there stood Edwarda, tall, upright, holding the curtains apart with both hands, looking out. I did not bow to her: I forgot everything; a swirl of confusion overwhelmed me and drew me hurriedly away.

“Halt! Stop a moment!” I said to myself, when I reached the woods. God in Heaven, but there must be an end of this! I felt all hot within on a sudden, and I groaned. Alas, I had no longer any pride in my heart; I had enjoyed Edwarda’s favour for a week, at the outside, but that was over long since, and I had not ordered my ways accordingly. From now on, my heart should cry to her: Dust, air, earth on my way; God in Heaven, yes . . .

I reached the hut, found my fish, and had a meal.

Here are you burning out your life for the sake of a worthless schoolgirl, and your nights are full of desolate dreams. And a hot wind stands still about your head, a close, foul wind of last year’s breath. Yet the sky is quivering with the most wonderful blue, and the hills are calling. Come, ?sop, Hei . . .

A week passed. I hired the blacksmith’s boat and fished for my meals. Edwarda and the Baron were always together in the evening when he came home from his sea trips. I saw them once at the mill. One evening they both came by my hut; I drew away from the window and barred the door. It made no impression on me whatever to see them together; I shrugged my shoulders. Another evening I met them on the road, and exchanged greetings; I left it to the Baron to notice me first, and merely put up two fingers to my cap, to be discourteous. I walked slowly past them, and looked carelessly at them as I did so.

Another day passed.

How many long days had not passed already? I was downcast, dispirited; my heart pondered idly over things; even the kindly grey stone by the hut seemed to wear an expression of sorrow and despair when I went by. There was rain in the air; the heat seemed gasping before me wherever I went, and I felt the gout in my left foot; I had seen one of Herr Mack’s horses shivering in its harness in the morning; all these things were significant to me as signs of the weather. Best to furnish the house well with food while the weather holds, I thought.

I tied up ?sop, took my fishing tackle and my gun, and went down to the quay. I was quite unusually troubled in mind.

“When will the mail-packet be in?&rdqu............