462 IB AND CHRISTINE.

was a large sum—six hundred dollars, And Ib of the heath
wandered about in the great capital.

On.the day on which he had settled to go back with the captain,
Ib lost his way in the streets, and took quite a different direction
from the one he intended to follow. He had wandered into the
suburb of Christianshaven, into a poor little street. Nota human
being was to be seen. At last a very little girl came out of one
of the wretched houses. Ib inquired of the little one the way to
the street which he wanted; but she looked shyly at him, and
began to cry bitterly. He asked her what ailed her, but could
not understand what she said in reply. But as they went along
the street together, they passed beneath the light of alamp; and
when the light fell on the girl’s face, he felt a strange and sharp
emotion, for Christine stood bodily before him, just as he remem-
bered her from the days of his childhood.

And he went with the little maiden into the wretched house,
and ascended the narrow crazy staircase, which led to a little
attic chamber in the roof. The air in this chamber was heavy
and almost suffocating: no light was burning; but there was a
heavy sighing and moaning in one corner. ib strucka light with
the help of a match. It was the mother of the child who lay
sighing on the miserable bed.

“Can I be of any service to you?” asked Ib. “This little girl
has brought me up here, but I am a stranger in this city. Are
there no neighbours or friends whom I could call to you?” And
he raised the sick woman’s head and smoothed her pillow.

It was Christine of the heath!

For years her name had not been mentioned yonder, for the
mention of her would have disturbed Ib’s peace of mind, and
rumour had told nothing good of her. The wealth which her
husband had inherited from-his parents had made him proud and
arrogant, He had given up his certain appointment, had travelled
for half a year in foreign lands, and on his return had incurred
debts, and yet lived in an expensive fashion. His carriage had
bent over more and more, so to speak, until at last it turned over
completely. The many merry companions and table friends he
had entertained declared it served him right, for he had kept
house like a madman; and one morning his corpse was found
in the canal,

The icy hand of death was already on Christine. Her youngest
child, only a few weeks old, expected in prosperity and born in
misery, was already in its grave, and it had come to this with
Christine herself, that she lay sick to death and forsaken in a
miserable room, amid a poverty that she might well have borne
in her childish days, but which now oppressed her painfully, since
she had been accustomed to better things. It was her eldest
child, also a little Christine, that here suffered hunger and poverty
with her, and whom Ib had now brought home.