"Jurgen, I have something I want to say to you;

helper in this, for he had grown during the last year, and was quick

at work. He was full of life, and knew how to swim, to tread water,

and to turn over and tumble in the strong tide. They often warned

him to beware of the sharks, which seize the best swimmer, draw him

down, and devour him; but such was not to be Jurgen's fate.

    At a neighbour's house in the dunes there was a boy named

Martin, with whom Jurgen was on very friendly terms, and they both

took service in the same ship to Norway, and also went together to

Holland. They never had a quarrel, but a person can be easily

excited to quarrel when he is naturally hot tempered, for he often

shows it in many ways; and this is just what Jurgen did one day when

they fell out about the merest trifle. They were sitting behind the

cabin door, eating from a delft plate, which they had placed between

them. Jurgen held his pocket-knife in his hand and raised it towards

Martin, and at the same time became ashy pale, and his eyes had an

ugly look. Martin only said, "Ah! ah! you are one of that sort, are

you? Fond of using the knife!"

    The words were scarcely spoken, when Jurgen's hand sank down. He

did not answer a syllable, but went on eating, and afterwards returned

to his work. When they were resting again he walked up to Martin and

said:

    "Hit me in the face! I deserve it. But sometimes I feel as if I

had a pot in me that boils over."

    "There, let the thing rest," replied Martin.

    And after that they were almost better friends than ever; when

afterwards they returned to the dunes and began telling their

adventures, this was told among the rest. Martin said that Jurgen

was certainly passionate, but a good fellow after all.

    They were both young and healthy, well-grown and strong; but

Jurgen was the cleverer of the two.

    In Norway the peasants go into the mountains and take the cattle

there to find pasture. On the west coast of Jutland huts have been

erected among the sand-hills; they are built of pieces of wreck, and

thatched with turf and heather; there are sleeping places round the

walls, and here the fishermen live and sleep during the early

spring. Every fisherman has a female helper, or manager as she is

called, who baits his hooks, prepares warm beer for him when he

comes ashore, and gets the dinner cooked and ready for him by the time

he comes back to the hut tired and hungry. Besides this the managers

bring up the fish from the boats, cut them open, prepare them, and

have generally a great deal to do.

    Jurgen, his father, and several other fishermen and their managers

inhabited the same hut; Martin lived in the next one.

    One of the girls, whose name was Else, had known Jurgen from

childhood; they were glad to see each other, and were of the same

opinion on many points, but in appearance they were entirely opposite;

for he was dark, and she was pale, and fair, and had flaxen hair,

and eyes as blue as the sea in sunshine.

    As they were walking together one day, Jurgen held her hand very

firmly in his, and she said to him:

   "Jurgen, I have something I want to say to you; let me be your

manager, for you are like a brother to me; but Martin, whose

housekeeper I am- he is my lover- but you need not tell this to the

others."

    It seemed to Jurgen as if the loose sand was giving way under

his feet. He did not speak a word, but nodded his head, and that meant

"yes." It was all that was necessary; but he suddenly felt in his

heart that he hated Martin, and the more he thought the more he felt

convinced that Martin had stolen away from him the only being he

ever loved, and that this was Else: he had never thought of Else in

this way before, but now it all became plain to him.