"Another peaceful Sunday, with rest from work, and a little reading. Out snow-shoeing to-day I crossed several frozen-over lanes, and very slight packing has begun here and there. I was stopped at last by a broad open lane lying pretty nearly north and south; at places it was 400 to 500 yards across, and I saw no end to it either north or south. The surface was good; one got along quickly, with no exertion at all when it was in the direction of the wind. "This is undeniably a monotonous life. Sometimes it feels to me like a long dark night, my life's 'Ragnarok,' [65] dividing it into two.... 'The sun is darkened, the summers with it, all weather is weighty with woe'; snow covers the earth, the wind whistles over the endless plains, and for three years this winter lasts, till comes the time for the great battle, and 'men tramp Hel's way.' There is a hard struggle between life and death; but after that comes the reign of peace. The earth rises from the sea again, and decks itself anew with verdure. 'Torrents roar, eagles hover over them, watching for fish among the rocks,' and then 'Valhalla,' fairer than the sun, and long length of happy days. "Pettersen, who is cook this week, came in here this evening, as usual, to get the bill of fare for next day. When his business was done, he stood for a minute, and then said that he had had such a strange dream last night; he had wanted to be taken as cook with a new expedition, but Dr. Nansen wouldn't have him. "'And why not?' "'Well, this was how it was: I dreamed that Dr. Nansen was going off across the ice to the Pole with four men, and I asked to be taken, but you said that you didn't need a cook on this expedition, and I thought that was queer enough, for you would surely want food on this trip as well. It seemed to me that you had ordered the ship to meet you at some other place; anyhow, you were not coming back here, but to some other land. It's strange that one can lie and rake up such a lot of nonsense in one's sleep.' "'That was perhaps not such very great nonsense, Pettersen; it is quite possible that we might have to make such an expedition; but if we did, we should certainly not come back to the Fram.' "'Well, if that happened, I would ask to go, sure enough; for it's just what I should like. I'm no great snow-shoer, but I would manage to keep up somehow.' "'That's all very well; but there's a great deal of weary hard work on a journey like that; you needn't think it's all pleasure.' "'No, no one would expect that; but it would be all right if I might only go.' "'But there might be worse than hardships, Pettersen. It would more than likely mean risking your life.' "'I don't care for that either. A man has got to die sometime.' "'Yes, but you don't want to shorten your life.' "'Oh, I would take my chance of that. You can lose your life at home, too, though, perhaps, not quite so easily as here. But if a man was always to be thinking about that he would never do anything.'