road to ruin. Still worse was it with Baard; although he did not
drink, he was scarcely to be recognized by those who had known him
before.

Late one evening a poor woman entered the little room Baard rented, and
begged him to accompany her a short distance. He knew her: it was his
brother's wife. Baard understood forthwith what her errand was; he
grew deathly pale, dressed himself, and went with her without a word.
There was a glimmer of light from Anders' window, it twinkled and
disappeared, and they were guided by this light, for there was no path
across the snow. When Baard stood once more in the passage, a strange
odor met him which made him feel ill. They entered. A little child
stood by the fireplace eating charcoal; its whole face was black, but
as it looked up and laughed it displayed white teeth,--it was the
brother's child.

There on the bed, with a heap of clothes thrown over him, lay Anders,
emaciated, with smooth, high forehead, and with his hollow eyes fixed
on his brother. Baard's knees trembled; he sat down at the foot of the
bed and burst into a violent fit of weeping. The sick man looked at
him intently and said nothing. At length he asked his wife to go out,
but Baard made a sign to her to remain; and now these two brothers
began to talk together. They accounted for everything from the day
they had bid for the watch up to the present moment. Baard concluded
by producing the lump of gold he always carried about him, and it now
became manifest to the brothers that in all these years neither had
known a happy day.

Anders did not say much, for he was not able to do so, but Baard
watched by his bed as long as he was ill.