Nay, we
look yet all the same, all dull and soiled, reeking, worn threadbare upon our elbows, while the freemen and their
ladies nearly dance upon the Breidafjord rocks, flaunting all their finest, thickest woolens, their boots of fur and leather, their cloaks of seal, reindeer skins, and sometimes even bear with claws, all cheered and tucked and warm, set about to face the sea's
fierce chill.