Axel cannot walk, one leg is dead to the hip, and something wrong with his back; shooting pains that make him groan curiously—­ay, he feels but a part of himself, as if something were left behind there under the tree.  “Don’t know,” says he—­“don’t know what it can be....”  But Oline knows, and tells him now with solemn words; ay, for she has saved a human creature from death, and she knows it; ’tis the Almighty has seen fit to lay on her this charge, where He might have sent legions of angels.  Let Axel consider the grace and infinite wisdom of the Almighty even in this!  And if so be as it had been His pleasure to send a worm out of the earth instead, all things were possible to Him.

“Ay, I know,” said Axel.  “But I can’t make out how ’tis with me—­feels strange....”

Feels strange, does it?  Oh, but only wait, wait just a little.  ’Twas but to move and stretch the least bit at a time, till the life came back.  And get his jacket on and get warm again.  But never in all her days would she forget how the Angel of the Lord had called her out to the doorway that last time, that she might hear a voice—­the voice of one crying in the forest.  Ay, ’twas as in the days of Paradise, when trumpets blew and compassed round the walls of Jericho....

Ay, strange.  But while she talked, Axel was taking his time, learning the use of his limbs again, getting to walk.

They get along slowly towards home, Oline still playing saviour and supporting him.  They manage somehow.  A little farther down they come upon Brede.  “What’s here?” says Brede.  “Hurt yourself?  Let me help a bit.”

Axel takes no heed.  He had given a promise to God not to be vengeful, not to tell of what Brede had done, but beyond that he was free.  And what was Brede going up that way again for now?  Had he seen that Oline was at Maaneland, and guessed that she would hear?

“And it’s you here, Oline, is it?” goes on Brede easily.  “Where d’you find him?  Under a tree?  Well, now, ’tis a curious thing,” says he.  “I was up that way just now on duty, along the line, and seems like I heard some one shouting.  Turns round and listens quick as a flash—­Brede’s the man to lend a hand if there’s need.  And so ’twas Axel, was it, lying under a tree, d’you say?”

“Ay,” says Axel.  “And well you knew that saw and heard as well.  But never helping hand....”

“Good Lord, deliver us!” cries Oline, aghast.  “As I’m a sinner....”

Brede explains.  “Saw?  Why, yes, I saw you right enough.  But why didn’t you call out?  You might have called out if there was anything wrong.  I saw you right enough, ay, but never thought but you were lying down a bit to rest.”

“You’d better say no more,” says Axel warningly.  “You know well enough you left me there and hoping I’d never rise again.”

Oline sees her way now; Brede must not be allowed to interfere.  She must be indispensable, nothing can come between her and Axel that could make him less completely indebted to herself.  She had saved him, she alone.  And she waves Brede aside; will not even let him carry the ax or the basket of food.  Oh, for the moment she is all on Axel’s side—­but next time she comes to Brede and sits talking to him over a cup of coffee, she will be on his.