certainly, thereshe was, sailing homewards with Clara and Jurgen on board.
  Clara sat on deck, and saw the sand-hills gradually appearing inthe distance; the church and lighthouse looked like a heron and a swanrising from the blue waters. If the wind held good they might reachhome in about an hour. So near they were to home and all its joys-so near to death and all its terrors! A plank in the ship gave way,and the water rushed in; the crew flew to the pumps, and did theirbest to stop the leak. A signal of distress was hoisted, but they werestill fully a mile from the shore. Some fishing boats were in sight,but they were too far off to be of any use. The wind blew towardsthe land, the tide was in their favour, but it was all useless; theship could not be saved.
  Jurgen threw his right arm round Clara, and pressed her to him.With what a look she gazed up into his face, as with a prayer to Godfor help he breasted the waves, which rushed over the sinking ship!She uttered a cry, but she felt safe and certain that he would notleave her to sink. And in this hour of terror and danger Jurgen feltas the king's son did, as told in the old song:
  "In the hour of peril when most men fear,
  He clasped the bride that he held so dear."
  How glad he felt that he was a good swimmer! He worked his wayonward with his feet and one arm, while he held the young girl upfirmly with the other. He rested on the waves, he trod the water- infact, did everything he could think of, in order not to fatiguehimself, and to reserve strength enough to reach land. He heardClara sigh, and felt her shudder convulsively, and he pressed her moreclosely to him. Now and then a wave rolled over them, the currentlifted them; the water, although deep, was so clear that for amoment he imagined he saw the shoals of mackerel glittering, orLeviathan himself ready to swallow them. Now the clouds cast ashadow over the water, then again came the playing sunbeams; flocks ofloudly screaming birds passed over him, and the plump and lazy wildducks which allow themselves to be drifted by the waves rose upterrified at the sight of the swimmer. He began to feel his strengthdecreasing, but he was only a few cable lengths' distance from theshore, and help was coming, for a boat was approaching him. At thismoment he distinctly saw a white staring figure under the water- awave lifted him up, and he came nearer to the figure- he felt aviolent shock, and everything became dark around him.
  On the sand reef lay the wreck of a ship, which was covered withwater at high tide; the white figure head rested against the anchor,the sharp iron edge of which rose just above the surface. Jurgen hadcome in contact with this; the tide had driven him against it withgreat force. He sank down stunned with the blow, but the next wavelifted him and the young girl up again. Some fishermen, coming witha boat, seized them and dragged them into it. The blood streameddown over Jurgen's face; he seemed dead, but still held the young girlso tightly that they were obliged to take her from him by force. Shewas pale and lifeless; they laid her in the boat, and rowed as quicklyas possible to the shore. They tried every means to restore Clara tolife, but it was all of no avail. Jurgen had been swimming for somedistance with a corpse in his arms, and had exhausted his strength forone who was dead.
  Jurgen still breathed, so the fishermen carried him to the nearesthouse upon the sand-hills, where a smith and general dealer livedwho knew something of surgery, and bound up Jurgen's wounds in atemporary way until a surgeon could be obtained from the nearesttown the next day. The injured man's brain was affected, and in hisdelirium he uttered wild cries; but on the third day he lay quietand weak upon his bed; his life seemed to hang by a thread, and thephysician said it would be better for him if this thread broke. "Letus pray that God may take him," he said, "for he will never be thesame man again."
  But life did not depart from him- the thread would not break,but the thread of memory was severed; the thread of his mind hadbeen cut through, and what was still more grievous, a body remained- aliving healthy body that wandered about like a troubled spirit.
  Jurgen remained in merchant Bronne's house. "He was hurt whileendeavouring to save our child," said the old man, "and now he isour son." People called Jurgen insane, but that was not exactly thecorrect term. He was like an instrument in which the strings are looseand will give no sound; only occasionally they regained their powerfor a few minutes, and then they sounded as they used to do. Hewould sing snatches of songs or old melodies, pictures of the pastwould rise before him, and then disappear in the mist, as it were, butas a general rule he sat staring into vacancy, without a thought. Wemay conjecture that he did not suffer, but his dark eyes lost theirbrightness, and looked like clouded glass.
  "Poor mad Jurgen," said the people. And this was the end of a lifewhose infancy was to have been surrounded with wealth and splendourhad his parents lived!