lie there. The living who go
up after a day hot with work, go there as among friends. Those who
sleep have also loved the lofty trees and the stillness.

If a stranger comes up there, they do not tell him of death and
loss; they sit down on the big slabs of stone, on the broad
burgomaster tombs, and tell him about Petter Nord, the Vaermland
boy, and of his love. The story seems fitting to be told up here,
where death has lost its terrors. The consecrated earth seems to
rejoice at having also been the scene of awakened happiness and
new-born life.

For it happened that after Petter Nord ran away from Halfvorson, he
sought refuge in the graveyard.

At first he ran towards the bridge over the river and turned his
steps towards the big town. But on the bridge the unfortunate
fugitive stopped. The kingly crown on his brow was quite gone. It
had disappeared as if it had been spun of sunbeams. He was deeply
bent with sorrow; his whole body shook; his heart throbbed; his
brain burned like fire.

Then he thought he saw the Spirit of Fasting coming towards him for
the third time. She was much more friendly, much more compassionate
than before; but she seemed to him only so much the more terrible.

"Alas, unhappy one," she said, "surely this must be the last of
your pranks! You have wished to celebrate the festival of love
during that time of fasting which is called life; but you see what
happens to you. Come now and be faithful to me; you have tried
everything and have only me to whom to turn."

He waved his arm to keep her off. "I know what you wish of me. You
wish to lead me back to work and renunciation, but I cannot. Not
now, not now!"

The pallid Spirit of Fasting smiled ever more mildly. "You are
innocent, Petter Nord. Do not grieve so over what you have not
caused! Was not Edith kind to you? Did you not see that she had
forgiven you? Come with me to your work! Live, as you have lived!"

The boy cried more vehemently. "Is it any better for me, do you
think, that I have killed just her who has been kind to me, her,
who cares for me? Had it not been better if I had murdered some one
whom I wished to murder. I must make amends. I must save her life.
I cannot think of work now."

"Oh, you madman," said the Spirit of Fasting, "the festival of
reparation which you wish to celebrate is the greatest audacity
of all."

Then Petter Nord rebelled absolutely against his friend of many
years. He scoffed at her. "What have