d been so
bitter against him was because he had mocked her with the taunt about
church-cleansing when she had wanted to go to church--the name the folks
down below wanted to know might, the Merman thought, be treasured up in
Eilert's memory; but during their conversation on their way down to her
father, she had perceived that he also had forgotten it. And now he must
look to his life.

It would be a good deal later on in the day before the old fellow would
begin inquiring about him. Till then he, Eilert, must sleep so as to
have sufficient strength for his flight--she would watch over him.

The girl flung her long dark hair about him like a curtain, and it
seemed to him that he knew those eyes so well. He felt as if his cheek
were resting against the breast of a white sea-bird, it was so warm and
sleep-giving--a single reddish feather in the middle of it recalled a
dark memory. Gradually he sank off into a doze, and heard her singing a
lullaby, which reminded him of the swell of the billows when it ripples
up and down along the beach on a fine sunny day. It was all about how
they had once been playmates together, and how later on he would have
nothing to say to her. Of all she sang, however, he could only recollect
the last words, which were these--

"Oh, thousands of times have we played on the shore,
And caught little fishes--dost mind it no more?
We raced with the surf as it rolled at our feet,
And the lurking old Merman we always did cheat.

"Yes, much shalt thou think of at my lullaby,
Whilst the billows do rock and the breezes do sigh.
Who sits now and weeps o'er thy cheeks? It is she
Who gave thee her soul, and whose soul lived in thee.

"But once as an eider-duck homeward I came
Thou didst lie 'neath a rock, with thy rifle didst aim;
In my breast thou didst strike me; the blood thou dost see
Is the mark that I bear, oh! beloved one, of thee."

Then it seemed to Eilert as if she sat and wept over him, and that, from
time to time, a drop like a splash of sea-water fell upon his cheek. He
felt now that he loved her so dearly.

The next moment he again became uneasy. He fancied that right up to the
skerry came a whale, which said that he, Eilert, must now make haste;
and when he stood on its back he stuck the shaft of an oar down its
nostril, to prevent it from shooting beneath the sea again. He perceived
that in this way the whale could be steered