It was a new boat with all its equipment. August said: “No. It’s better we both sail the boat home and return it!”

That was different; and Edevart had absolutely no objection to that. August had come down to earth again and was acting sensibly.

He came even farther down to earth later that day; was indeed laid quite low. Mattea had disappeared! When the two of them went in search of a bite of hot food, they found the place deserted. In the kitchen there was only a cold stove surrounded by bare walls. The woman was gone. Mattea was gone.

August burst out idiotically: “What! … Have you ever seen anything like it?”

“They must have left,” said Edevart.

August: “Left? No. Let’s go out and find them.”

They went out to search, with August still carrying his accordion, for he had meant to play for Mattea. They couldn’t inquire of the neighbors, for there were no longer any neighbors there. Nearly all the stalls were deserted. They searched the entire fairground but found hardly any people there. They went to the quayside, but now even the little steamer had left.

The jilted August had obviously taken things to heart and was in need of consolation. Now and then he simply stopped and stood still. Edevart said: “Well, perhaps it’s all for the best. You never know, but if she was the kind who …”

August did not answer.

Edevart suddenly cried: “But she’s gone off with the ring!”

“Where was she from, do you know?” August asked darkly.

“How should I know! Don’t you know yourself?”

“Goodbye and good luck to the ring. But that’s not the worst,” said August. “She got my watch yesterday.”

Edevart, thunderstruck: “You’re joking!”

August was not joking. There was certainly nothing funny in it for him. He was well and truly stunned. It was Edevart who had to see to the necessary provisions for the return journey and in general to take command. The other man was incapable of anything.

And August’s misery was naturally exacerbated by the strenuous work they were then faced with. They had a reasonably fair wind over Hadselfjord; but then it dropped and they had to row with their heavy oars the entire length of Raftsund. For August this was a tough ordeal. He rowed till he was dripping with sweat; he peeled off one garment after another; and when the time came for their evening meal, he simply slumped back in the boat, incapable.

“Isn’t there a dram for you to have?” said Edevart. “I’ve heard that sometimes helps.”

But August was no drinker. He wasn’t the kind who can cure a hangover by taking a few more drinks. On the contrary, the very thought of it brought a feeling of nausea.

Suddenly August asks: “What am I going home for?”

After a moment or two, Edevart answers: “What are we going home for? The main thing is that we have to return the boat.”

“That you might well say. But I can’t.”

“How’s that?”

August rests on his elbow and answers in desperation: “I’ll tell you why not. I can’t pay for the hire of it.”

Edevart is silent a long time.