are really a
disgrace to the place--they spoilt the whole appearance of the market,
and were a blot on the town, Fie! away with the rubbish! And I turned
over in my mind as I walked on what it would cost to remove the
Geographical Survey down there--that handsome building which had always
attracted me so much each time I passed it. It would perhaps not be
possible to undertake a removal of that kind under two or three hundred
pounds. A pretty sum--three hundred pounds! One must admit, a tidy
enough little sum for pocket-money! Ha, ha! just to make a start with,
eh? and I nodded my head, and conceded that it was a tidy enough bit of
pocket-money to make a start with. I was still trembling over my whole
body, and hiccoughed now and then violently after my cry. I had a
feeling that there was not much life left in me--that I was really
singing my last verse. It was almost a matter of indifference to me; it
did not trouble me in the least. On the contrary, I wended my way down
town, down to the wharf, farther and farther away from my room. I
would, for that matter, have willingly laid myself down flat in the
street to die. My sufferings were rendering me more and more callous.
My sore foot throbbed violently; I had a sensation as if the pain was
creeping up through my whole leg. But not even that caused me any
particular distress. I had endured worse sensations.

In this manner, I reached the railway wharf. There was no traffic, no
noise--only here and there a person to be seen, a labourer or sailor
slinking round with their hands in their pockets. I took notice of a
lame man, who looked sharply at me as we passed one another. I stopped
him instinctively, touched my hat, and inquired if he knew if the Nun
had sailed. Someway, I couldn't help snapping my fingers right under
the man's nose, and saying, "Ay, by Jove, the _Nun_; yes, the _Nun_!"
which I had totally forgotten. All the same, the thought of her had
been smouldering in me. I had carried it about unconsciously.

Yes, bless me, the Nun had sailed.

He couldn't tell me where she had sailed to?

The man reflects, stands on his long leg, keeps the other up in the
air; it dangles a little.

"No," he replies. "Do you know what cargo she was taking in here?"

"No," I answer. But by this time I had already lost interest in the
_Nun_, and I asked the man how far it might be to Holmestrand, reckoned
in good old geographical miles.

"To Holmestrand? I should think..."