took him by the
arm, and knocked him down with a blow over the eyes. Nils fell heavily,
tried to rise, and found that he couldn't--his back was badly hurt.

Meantime, at Kampen, no sooner had the grandmother succeeded in paying
off the last instalment of debt on the farm than she was stricken with
mortal sickness and died.

A fortnight after the funeral six men brought in a litter, and on the
litter lay Nils with his black hair and pale face.

In the springtime, a year after he had been brought to Kampen, Nils and
Margit were married. The fiddler's health was ruined, but he was able to
help in the fields, and look after things. Then, one Sunday afternoon,
when Nils and Arne were out together they saw a wedding procession,
fourteen carriages in all. Nils stood for a long time motionless after
the bride and bridegroom had passed, and for the rest of the day he was
sullen and angry. He went out before supper, and returned at midnight,
drunk.

From that day Nils was constantly going into town and coming home drunk.
He reproached Margit for his wretched life; he cursed her, he struck
her, and beat her. Then would come fits of wild remorse.

As Arne grew up, Nils took him to dances, and the boy learnt to sing all
sorts of songs. His mother taught him to read, and when he was fifteen
he longed to travel and to write songs.

At home, things got worse. As Nils grew feebler he became more drunken
and violent, and often Arne would stay at home to amuse him in order
that Margit might have an hour's peace. Arne began to loathe his father;
but he kept this feeling to himself, as he did his love for his mother.

His one friend was Kristen, the eldest son of a sea-captain. With
Kristen, Arne could talk of books and travel. But there came a day when
Kristen went away to be a sailor, and Arne was left alone.

Life was very heavy for him. He made up songs and put his grief into
them. But for his mother, Arne would have left Kampen--he stood between
her and Nils.

One night, about this time, Nils came back late from a wedding-feast.
Margit had gone to bed, and Arne was reading. The boy helped his father
upstairs, and Nils began quoting texts from the Bible and cursing his
own downfall, shedding drunken tears. Presently he made his way to the
bed, and put his fingers on Margit's throat.

In vain the boy and his mother called on Nils to desist; the drunkard
took no notice. Arne rushed to a corner of the room and picked up an
axe;