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A mother sat there with her little child. She was so downcast， so afraid that it should die！ It was so pale， the small eyes had closed themselves， and it drew its breath so softly， now and then， with a deep respiration， as if it sighed； and the mother looked still more sorrowfully on the little creature. Then a knocking was heard at the door， and in came a poor old man wrapped up as in a large horse-cloth， for it warms one， and he needed it， as it was the cold winter season！ Everything out-of-doors was covered with ice and snow， and the wind blew so that it cut the face. As the old man trembled with cold， and the little child slept a moment， the mother went and poured some ale into a pot and set it on the stove， that it might be warm for him； the old man sat and rocked the cradle， and the mother sat down on a chair close by him， and looked at her little sick child that drew its breath so deep， and raised its little hand. Do you not think that I shall save him？ said she. Our Lord will not take him from me！ And the old manit was Death himselfhe nodded so strangely， it could just as well signify yes as no. And the mother looked down in her lap， and the tears ran down over her cheeks； her head became so heavyshe had not closed her eyes for three days and nights； and now she slept， but only for a minute，when she started up and trembled with cold. | 
