straightened its path and continued east once more. All this I think of.

And you? Have you read in a newspaper, which disagrees with another
newspaper, what the public in Norway is thinking of old-age insurance?




II


On stormy days I sit indoors and find something to occupy my time. Perhaps
I write letters to some acquaintance or other telling him I am well, and
hope to hear the same from him. But I cannot post the letters, and they
grow older every day. Not that it matters. I have tied the letters to a
string that hangs from the ceiling to prevent Madame from gnawing at them.


One day a man came to the hut. He walked swiftly and stealthily; his
clothes were ordinary and he wore no collar, for he was a laboring man. He
carried a sack, and I wondered what could be in it.

"Good morning," we said to each other. "Fine weather in the woods."

"I didn't expect to find anybody in the hut," said the man. His manner was
at once forceful and discontented; he flung down the sack without
humility.

"He may know something about me," I thought, "since he is such a man."