was not easy to tell what Per's thoughts were as he stood again alone
looking over the sea. Thus had the billows rolled to and fro in storm
and sunshine, whilst he had waited and waited. And this was what he had
waited for! He drew a long breath, and his face seemed to grow clearer
again as he slowly nodded his head several times towards the ocean.

Per's wife made many apologies, as is but right and proper on such
occasions, for the repast, which, however, consisted of coffee, with
cream and sugar, bread and butter and cakes, and lastly a dish of small
lobsters. She insisted that it was a shame to offer such small lobsters
to her guests. It was a pity they had not some larger ones.

But now it was just one of the pastor's favourite theories, and which he
always defended with much energy and conviction, namely, that small
lobsters are really better and more delicate than large ones. He was,
therefore, in the best of humours, and made several innocent jokes with
the friendly peasant woman.

Per now came in and begged they would begin their meal, as everything
was ready. He then sat down by the side of the fireplace, with his
elbows resting on his knees.

The sun shone so brightly through the small window-panes, the room was
so clean and comfortable, the table-cloth so white, the cream so yellow,
and the small lobsters so red and appetizing, that the pastor felt
constrained to improve the occasion.

He chose as his text a fact which he had heard from the woman, namely,
that Per had built the house entirely of the wreckage of a French brig,
which had been stranded on the coast a little way to the northward. This
was the vessel to which the board over the window had belonged.

The pastor dwelt on the uncertainty of human affairs, how often we are
disappointed, but how there is a leading thread which seems to run
through our existence.

"And look," said he, "on that proud ship, fitted out in the sunny land
of France, and bearing a name which points to hope and expectation; for
_L'Esperance_, my friends, signifies hope, only to be lost on our
desolate coast. So it is with us mortals. How many a vain hope sails out
with flag and banner, only to be miserably wrecked in the storms of
life! But observe! that which has been dashed to pieces by the tempest,
has been refashioned by humble hands into a new dwelling-place. Thus
does life spring from death, comfort from desolation, and happiness from
shattered hopes, and thus ou