And he saw distinctly the pallid Spirit of Fasting stealing about over the earth with her bundle of twigs on her arm.  And she called to him:  “Spendthrift, spendthrift!  You have wished to celebrate the festival of revenge and reparation during the time of fasting, that is called life.  Can you afford such extravagances, foolish one?”

Thereupon he had again sworn obedience and become the quiet and thrifty workman.  He again stood peaceful and sensible at his work.  No one could believe that it was he who had roared with rage and flung about the people in the street, as an elk at bay shakes off the dogs.

A few weeks later Halfvorson came to him at the machine-shop.  He looked him up, at his niece’s desire.  She wished, if possible, to speak to him that same day.

Petter Nord began to shake and tremble when he saw Halfvorson.  It was as if he had seen a slippery snake.  He did not know which he wished most—­to strike him or to run away from him; but he soon perceived that Halfvorson looked much troubled.

The tradesman looked as one does after having been out in a strong wind.  The muscles of his face were drawn; his mouth was compressed; his eyes red and full of tears.  He struggled visibly with some sorrow.  The only thing in him that was the same was his voice.  It was as inhumanly expressionless as ever.

“You need not be afraid of the old story nor of the new one either,” said Halfvorson.  “It is known that you were with those men who made all the trouble with us the other day.  And as we supposed that they came from here, I could learn where you were.  Edith is going to die soon,” he continued, and his whole face twitched as if it would fall to pieces.  “She wishes to speak to you before she dies.  But we wish you no harm.”

“Of course I shall come,” said Petter Nord.

Soon they were both on board the steamer.  Petter Nord was decked out in his fine Sunday clothes.  Under his hat played and smiled all the dreams of his boyhood in a veritable kingly crown; they encircled his light hair.  Edith’s message made him quite dizzy.  Had he not always thought that fine ladies would love him?  And now here was one who wished to see him before she died.  Most wonderful of all things wonderful!—­He sat and thought of her as she had been formerly.  How proud, how alive!  And now she was going to die.  He was in such sorrow for her sake.  But that she had been thinking of him all these years!  A warm, sweet melancholy came over him.

He was really there again, the old, mad Petter Nord.  As soon as he approached the village the Spirit of Fasting went away from him with disgust and contempt.

Halfvorson could not keep still for a moment.  The heavy gale, which he alone perceived, swept him forward and back on the deck.  As he passed Petter, he murmured a few words, so that the latter could know by what paths his despairing thoughts wandered.