按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
Jurgen said nothing； but he thought of a certain maiden ofSkjagen； whom he was soon to visit。 The ship set sail forChristiansand in Norway； and as the wind was favourable it soonarrived there。
One morning merchant Bronne went out to the lighthouse； whichstands a little way out of Old Skjagen； not far from 〃Grenen。〃 Thelight was out； and the sun was already high in the heavens； when hemounted the tower。 The sand…banks extend a whole mile from theshore； beneath the water； outside these banks； many ships could beseen that day； and with the aid of his telescope the old man thoughthe descried his own ship； the Karen Bronne。 Yes！ certainly； thereshe was； sailing homewards with Clara and Jurgen on board。
Clara sat on deck； and saw the sand…hills gradually appearing inthe distance； the church and lighthouse looked like a heron and a swanrising from the blue waters。 If the wind held good they might reachhome in about an hour。 So near they were to home and all its joys…so near to death and all its terrors！ A plank in the ship gave way；and the water rushed in； the crew flew to the pumps； and did theirbest to stop the leak。 A signal of distress was hoisted； but they werestill fully a mile from the shore。 Some fishing boats were in sight；but they were too far off to be of any use。 The wind blew towardsthe land； the tide was in their favour； but it was all useless； theship could not be saved。
Jurgen threw his right arm round Clara； and pressed her to him。With what a look she gazed up into his face； as with a prayer to Godfor help he breasted the waves； which rushed over the sinking ship！She uttered a cry； but she felt safe and certain that he would notleave her to sink。 And in this hour of terror and danger Jurgen feltas the king's son did； as told in the old song：
〃In the hour of peril when most men fear；
He clasped the bride that he held so dear。〃
How glad he felt that he was a good swimmer！ He worked his wayonward with his feet and one arm； while he held the young girl upfirmly with the other。 He rested on the waves； he trod the water… infact； did everything he could think of； in order not to fatiguehimself； and to reserve strength enough to reach land。 He heardClara sigh； and felt her shudder convulsively； and he pressed her moreclosely to him。 Now and then a wave rolled over them； the currentlifted them； the water； although deep； was so clear that for amoment he imagined he saw the shoals of mackerel glittering； orLeviathan himself ready to swallow them。 Now the clouds cast ashadow over the water； then again came the playing sunbeams； flocks ofloudly screaming birds passed over him； and the plump and lazy wildducks which allow themselves to be drifted by the waves rose upterrified at the sight of the swimmer。 He began to feel his strengthdecreasing； but he was only a few cable lengths' distance from theshore； and help was ing； for a boat was approaching him。 At thismoment he distinctly saw a white staring figure under the water… awave lifted him up； and he came nearer to the figure… he felt aviolent shock； and everything became dark around him。
On the sand reef lay the wreck of a ship； which was covered withwater at high tide； the white figure head rested against the anchor；the sharp iron edge of which rose just above the surface。 Jurgen hade in contact with this； the tide had driven him against it withgreat force。 He sank down stunned with the blow； but the next wavelifted him and the young girl up again。 Some fishermen； ing witha boat； seized them and dragged them into it。 The blood streameddown over Jurgen's face； he seemed dead； but still held the young girlso tightly that they were obliged to take her from him by force。 Shewas pale and lifeless； they laid her in the boat； and rowed as quicklyas possible to the shore。 They tried every means to restore Clara tolife； but it was all of no avail。 Jurgen had been swimming for somedistance with a corpse in his arms； and had exhausted his strength forone who was dead。
Jurgen still breathed； so the fishermen carried him to the nearesthouse upon the sand…hills； where a smith and general dealer livedwho knew something of surgery； and bound up Jurgen's wounds in atemporary way until a surgeon could be obtained from the nearesttown the next day。 The injured man's brain was affected； and in hisdelirium he uttered wild cries； but on the third day he lay quietand weak upon his bed； his life seemed to hang by a thread； and thephysician said it would be better for him if this thread broke。 〃Letus pray that God may take him；〃 he said； 〃for he will never be thesame man again。〃
But life did not depart from him… the thread would not break；but the thread of memory was severed； the thread of his mind hadbeen cut through； and what was still more grievous； a body remained… aliving healthy body that wandered about like a troubled spirit。
Jurgen remained in merchant Bronne's house。 〃He was hurt whileendeavouring to save our child；〃 said the old man； 〃and now he isour son。〃 People called Jurgen insane； but that was not exactly thecorrect term。 He was like an instrument in which the strings are looseand will give no sound； only occasionally they regained their powerfor a few minutes； and then they sounded as they used to do。 Hewould sing snatches of songs or old melodies； pictures of the pastwould rise before him； and then disappear in the mist； as it were； butas a general rule he sat staring into vacancy； without a thought。 Wemay conjecture that he did not suffer； but his dark eyes lost theirbrightness； and looked like clouded glass。
〃Poor mad Jurgen；〃 said the people。 And this was the end of a lifewhose infancy was to have been surrounded with wealth and splendourhad his parents lived！ All his great mental abilities had been lost；nothing but hardship； sorrow； and disappointment had been his fate。 Hewas like a rare plant； torn from its native soil； and tossed uponthe beach to wither there。 And was this one of God's creatures；fashioned in His own likeness； to have no better fate？ Was he to beonly the plaything of fortune？ No！ the all…loving Creator wouldcertainly repay him in the life to e for what he had suffered andlost here。 〃The Lord is good to all； and His mercy is over all Hisworks。〃 The pious old wife of the merchant repeated these words fromthe Psalms of David in patience and hope； and the prayer of herheart was that Jurgen might soon be called away to enter intoeternal life。
In the churchyard where the walls were surrounded with sandClara lay buried。 Jurgen did not seem to know this； it did not enterhis mind； which could only retain fragments of the past。 EverySunday he went to church with the old people； and sat theresilently； staring vacantly before him。 One day； when the Psalms werebeing sung； he sighed deeply； and his eyes became bright； they werefixed upon a place near the altar where he had knelt with his friendwho was dead。 He murmured her name； and became deadly pale； andtears rolled down his cheeks。 They led him out of church； he toldthose standing round him that he was well； and had never been ill； he；who had been so grievously afflicted； the outcast； thrown upon theworld； could not remember his sufferings。 The Lord our Creator is wiseand full of loving kindness… who can doubt it？
In Spain； where balmy breezes blow over the Moorish cupolas andgently stir the orange and myrtle groves； where singing and thesound of the castas are always heard； the richest merchant in theplace； a childless old man； sat in a luxurious house； while childrenmarched in procession through the streets with waving flags andlighted tapers。 If he had been able to press his children to hisheart； his daughter； or her child； that had； perhaps never seen thelight of day； far less the kingdom of heaven； how much of his wealthwould he not have given！ 〃Poor child！〃 Yes； poor child… a child still；yet more than thirty years old； for Jurgen had arrived at this agein Old Skjagen。
The shifting sands had covered the graves in the courtyard；quite up to the church walls； but still； the dead must be buried amongtheir relatives and the dear ones who had gone before them。 MerchantBronne and his wife now rested with their children under the whitesand。
It was in the spring… the season of storms。 Th