'What do you mean, sir?'
'I mean that he will be dead before to-morrow, and that no human skill can save him. If you should find an opportunity, you had better prepare him for this. Good night.'
The physician drove away; Jörgen returned to the invalid. He found him sitting on the side of the bed, the light of the lamp falling full upon his face, which, during the last hour, had become of a pale bluish hue. He was pressing his hand on his chest, as if to lessen the pain, while with a thick and trembling voice he whispered,
'Hark ye, Jörgen! Yonder, in the breast-pocket of my pea-jacket there is a small leather purse with nine Prussian thalers in it. Will you earn one of them?'
'I don't understand you, mate,' said Jörgen, much surprised.
'What did the doctor say of me outside of the door there?'
Jörgen considered for a moment or two what he should answer. 'Oh!' he came out with at length, 'he said--'
'In the devil's name, let me have no evasive answer,' cried the mate, raising his voice. 'I will know what he said, word for word; and if I give you a Prussian thaler to speak the truth, I think you are pretty well paid to open your mouth. So, out with it!'
'Do you wish to know the whole truth?' asked Jörgen, seizing his hand.
'Certainly.'