n the point of death."

Soeren Man bowed his head, and hurried out on to the downs. Ugh! it
was just like thunder overhead. Blockhead she had called him--for
the first time in the whole of their life together; he would have
liked to have forced that word home again and that, at once, before
it stuck to him. But to face a mad, old wife and a howling girl--no,
he kept out of it.

Soeren Man was an obstinate fellow; when once he got a thing into his
three-cornered head, nothing could hammer it out again. He said
nothing, but went about with a face which said: "Ay, best not to
come to words with women folk!" Maren, however, did not
misunderstand him. Well, as long as he kept it to himself. There was
the girl torturing herself, drinking petroleum, and eating soft soap
as if she were mad, because she had heard it was good for internal
weakness. It was too bad; it was adding insult to injury to be
jeered at--by her own father too.

At that time he was as little at home as possible, and Maren had
no objection as it kept him and his angry glare out of their way.
When not at sea, he lounged about doing odd jobs, or sat gossiping
high up on the downs, from where one could keep an eye on every
boat going out or coming in. Generally, he was allowed to go in
peace, but when Soerine was worse than usual, Maren would come
running--piteous to see in her motherly anxiety--and beg him to
take the girl in to town to be examined before it was too late.
Then he would fall into a passion and shout--not caring who might
hear: "Confound you, you old nuisance--have you had eight children
yourself and still can't see what ails the girl?"

Before long he would repent, for it was impossible to do without
house and home altogether; but immediately he put his foot inside
the door the trouble began. What was he to do? He had to let off
steam, to prevent himself from going mad altogether with all this
woman's quibbling. Whatever the result might be, he was tempted to
stand on the highest hill and shout his opinion over the whole
hamlet, just for the pleasure of getting his own back.

One day, as he was sitting on the shore weighting the net, Maren
came flying over the downs: "Now, you had better send for the
doctor," said she, "or the girl will slip through our fingers. She's
taking on so, it's terrible to hear."

Soeren also had himself heard moans from the hut; he was beside
himself with anger and flung a pebble at her. "Confound you, are you