“I saw a white fire spring over the rail,” whispered Olaf Huldricksson. “It whirled round and round, and it shone like⁠—like stars in a whirlwind mist. There was a noise in my ears. It sounded like bells⁠—little bells, ja ! Like the music you make when you run your finger round goblets. It made me sick and dizzy⁠—the hell noise.

“My Helma was⁠— indeholde ⁠—what you say⁠—in the middle of the white fire. She turned her face to me and she turned it on the child, and my Helma’s face burned into my heart. Because it was full of fear, and it was full of happiness⁠—of glaede . I tell you that the fear in my Helma’s face made me ice here”⁠—he beat his breast with clenched hand⁠—“but the happiness in it burned on me like fire. And I could not move⁠—I could not move.