[Footnote: Danish _Herre_.] Alibert, who
called Father Erre: "Good-morning, Erre," "Good-bye, Erre." And all his
assistants, though as Danish as they could be, tried to say the same.
Difficult hair! "There is a little round place on his crown where the
hair will stand up, if he does not wear it rather long," said Mr.
Alibert.
I was forever hearing that I was pale and small, pale in particular.
Strangers would look at me and say: "He is rather pale." Others remarked
in joke: "He looks rather green in the face." And so soon as they began
talking about me the word "thin" would be uttered.
I liked my name. My mother and my aunts said it in such a kindly way.
And the name was noteworthy because it was so difficult to pronounce. No
boy or girl smaller than I could pronounce it properly; they all said
_Gayrok_.
I came into the world two months too soon, I was in such a hurry. My
mother was alone and had no help. When the midwife came I had arrived
already. I was so feeble that the first few years great care had to be
taken of me to keep me alive. I was well made enough, but not strong,
and this was the source of many vexations to me during those years when
a boy's one desire and one ambition is to be strong.
I was not clumsy, very agile if anything; I learnt to be a good high
jumper, to climb and run well, was no contemptible wrestler, and by
degrees became an expert fighter.
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