ought arose in
him--"Free! free! How happy to be free, even without shoes and in
ragged clothes!" Sometimes, when such thoughts crossed his mind, the
fiery nature rose within him, and he beat the wall with his clenched
fists.

Weeks, months, a whole year had gone by, when a vagabond--Niels, the
thief, called also the horse couper--was arrested; and now the better
times came, and it was seen what wrong Juergen had endured.

In the neighbourhood of Ringkjoebing, at a beer-house, Niels, the
thief, had met Martin on the afternoon before Juergen's departure from
home and before the murder. A few glasses were drunk--not enough to
cloud any one's brain, but yet enough to loosen Martin's tongue; and
he began to boast, and to say that he had obtained a house, and
intended to marry; and when Niels asked where he intended to get the
money, Martin shook his pocket proudly, and said,

"The money is there, where it ought to be."

This boast cost him his life; for when he went home, Niels went after
him, and thrust a knife through his throat, to rob the murdered man of
the expected gold, which did not exist.

This was circumstantially explained; but for us it is enough to know
that Juergen was set at liberty. But what amends did he get for having
been imprisoned a whole year, and shut out from all communion with
men? They told him he was fortunate in being proved innocent, and that
he might go. The burgomaster gave him two dollars for travelling
expenses, and many citizens offered him provisions and beer--there
were still good men, not all "grind and flay." But the best of all
was, that the merchant Broenne of Skjagen, the same into whose service
Juergen intended to go a year since, was just at that time on business
in the town of Ringkjoebing. Broenne heard the whole story; and the man
had a good heart, and understood what Juergen must have felt and
suffered. He therefore made up his mind to make it up to the poor lad,
and convince him that there were still kind folks in the world.

So Juergen went forth from the prison as if to Paradise, to find
freedom, affection, and trust. He was to travel this road now; for no
goblet of life is all bitterness: no good man would pour out such
measure to his fellow man, and how should He do it, who is love
itself?

"Let all that be buried and forgotten," said Broenne the merchant. "Let
us draw a thick line through last year; and we will even burn the
calendar. And in two days we'll start