CHAPTER IX

by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

　　One Saturday, in midsummer, Thore Pladsen rowed across the lake to meethis son, who was expected to arrive that afternoon from theagricultural school, where he had finished his course. The mother hadhired women several days beforehand, and everything was scoured andclean. The bedroom had been put in order some time before, a stove hadbeen set up, and there Oyvind was to be. To-day the mother carried infresh greens, laid out clean linen, made up the bed, and all the whilekept looking out to see if, perchance, any boat were coming across thelake. A plentiful table was spread in the house, and there was alwayssomething wanting, or flies to chase away, and the bedroom wasdusty,—continually dusty. Still no boat came. The mother leanedagainst the window and looked across the waters; then she heard a stepnear at hand on the road, and turned her head. It was the school-master, who was coming slowly down the hill, supporting himself on astaff, for his hip troubled him. His intelligent eyes looked calm. Hepaused to rest, and nodded to her:—

　　"Not come yet?"

　　"No; I expect them every moment."

　　"Fine weather for haymaking, to-day."

　　"But warm for old folks to be walking."

　　The school-master looked at her, smiling,—

　　"Have any young folks been out to-day?"

　　"Yes; but are gone again."

　　"Yes, yes, to be sure; there will most likely be a meeting somewherethis evening."

　　"I presume there will be. Thore says they shall not meet in his houseuntil they have the old man's consent."

　　"Right, quite right."

　　Presently the mother cried,—

　　"There! I think they are coming."

　　The school-master looked long in the distance.

　　"Yes, indeed! it is they."

　　The mother left the window, and he went into the house. After he hadrested a little and taken something to drink, they proceeded down tothe shore, while the boat darted toward them, making rapid headway, forboth father and son were rowing. The oarsmen had thrown off theirjackets, the waters whitened beneath their strokes; and so the boatsoon drew near those who were waiting. Oyvind turned his head andlooked up; he saw the two at the landing-place, and resting his oars,he shouted,—

　　"Good-day, mother! Good-day, school-master!"

　　"What a manly voice he has," said the mother, her face sparkling. "Odear, O dear! he is as fair as ever," she added.

　　The school-master drew in the boat. The father laid down his oars,Oyvind sprang past him and out of the boat, shook hands first with hismother, then with the school-master. He laughed and laughed again;and, quite contrary to the custom of peasants, immediately began topour out a flood of words about the examination, the journey, thesuperintendent's certificate, and good offers; he inquired about thecrops and his acquaintances, all save one. The father had paused tocarry things up from the boat, but, wanting to hear, too, thought theymight remain there for the present, and joined the others. And so theywalked up toward the house, Oyvind laughing and talking, the motherlaughing, too, for she was utterly at a loss to know what to say. Theschool-master moved slowly along at Oyvind's side, watching his oldpupil closely; the father walked at a respectful distance. And thusthey reached home. Oyvind was delighted with everything he saw: firstbecause the house was painted, then because the mill was enlarged, thenbecause the leaden windows had been taken out in the family-room and inthe bed-chamber, and white glass had taken the place of green, and thewindow frames had been made larger. When he entered everything seemedastonishingly small, and not at all as he remembered it, but verycheerful. The clock cackled like a fat hen, the carved chairs almostseemed as if they would speak; he knew every dish on the table spreadbefore him, the freshly white-washed hearth smiled welcome; the greens,decorating the walls, scattered about them their fragrance, thejuniper, strewn over the floor, gave evidence of the festival.

　　They all sat down to the meal; but there was not much eaten, for Oyvindrattled away without ceasing. The others viewed him now morecomposedly, and observed in what respect he had altered, in what heremained unchanged; looked at what was entirely new about him, even tothe blue broadcloth suit he wore. Once when he had been telling a longstory about one of his companions and finally concluded, as there was alittle pause, the father said,—

　　"I scarcely understand a word that you say, boy; you talk so veryfast."

　　They all laughed heartily, and Oyvind not the least. He knew very wellthis was true, but it was not possible for him to speak more slowly.Everything new he had seen and learned, during his long absence fromhome, had so affected his imagination and understanding, and had sodriven him out of his accustomed demeanor, that faculties which longhad lain dormant were roused up, as it were, and his brain was in astate of constant activity. Moreover, they observed that he had ahabit of arbitrarily taking up two or three words here and there, andrepeating them again and again from sheer haste. He seemed to bestumbling over himself. Sometimes this appeared absurd, but then helaughed and it was forgotten. The school-master and the father satwatching to see if any of the old thoughtfulness was gone; but it didnot seem so. Oyvind remembered everything, and was even the one toremind the others that the boat should be unloaded. He unpacked hisclothes at once and hung them up, displayed his books, his watch,everything new, and all was well cared for, his mother said. He wasexceedingly pleased with his little room. He would remain at home forthe present, he said,—help with the hay-making, and study. Where heshould go later he did not know; but it made not the least differenceto him. He had acquired a briskness and vigor of thought which it didone good to see, and an animation in the expression of his feelingswhich is so refreshing to a person who the whole year through strivesto repress his own. The school-master grew ten years younger.

　　"Now we have come so far with him," said he, beaming withsatisfaction as he rose to go.

　　When the mother returned from waiting on him, as usual, to thedoor-step, she called Oyvind into the bedroom.

　　"Some one will be waiting for you at nine o'clock," whispered she.

　　"Where?"

　　"On the cliff."

　　Oyvind glanced at the clock; it was nearly nine. He could not wait inthe house, but went out, clambered up the side of the cliff, paused onthe top, and looked around. The house lay directly below; the busheson the roof had grown large, all the young trees round about him hadalso grown, and he recognized every one of them. His eyes wandereddown the road, which ran along the cliff, and was bordered by theforest on the other side. The road lay there, gray and solemn, but theforest was enlivened with varied foliage; the trees were tall and wellgrown. In the little bay lay a boat with unfurled sail; it was ladenwith planks and awaiting a breeze. Oyvind gazed across the water whichhad borne him away and home again. There it stretched before him,calm and smooth; some sea-birds flew over it, but made no noise, for itwas late. His father came walking up from the mill, paused on thedoor-step, took a survey of all about him, as his son had done, thenwent down to the water to take the boat in for the night. The motherappeared at the side of the house, for she had been in the kitchen.She raised her eyes toward the cliff as she crossed the farm-yard withsomething for the hens, looked up again and began to hum. Oyvind satdown to wait. The underbrush was so dense that he could not see veryfar into the forest, but he listened to the slightest sound. For along time he heard nothing but the birds that flew up and cheatedhim,—after a while a squirrel that was leaping from tree to tree. Butat length there was a rustling farther off; it ceased a moment, andthen began again. He rises, his heart throbs, the blood rushes to hishead; then something breaks through the brushes close by him; but it isa large, shaggy dog, which, on seeing him, pauses on three legs withoutstirring. It is the dog from the Upper Heidegards, and close behindhim another rustling is heard. The dog turns his head and wags histail; now Marit appears.

　　A bush caught her dress; she turned to free it, and so she was standingwhen Oyvind saw her first. Her head was bare, her hair twisted up asgirls usually wear it in every-day attire; she had on a thick plaiddress without sleeves, and nothing about the neck except a turned-downlinen collar. She had just stolen away from work in the fields, andhad not ventured on any change of dress. Now she looked up askance andsmiled; her white teeth shone, her eyes sparkled beneath thehalf-closed lids. Thus she stood for a moment working with herfingers, and then she came forward, growing rosier and rosier with eachstep. He advanced to meet her, and took her hand between both of his.Her eyes were fixed on the ground, and so they stood.

　　"Thank you for all your letters," was the first thing he said; and whenshe looked up a little and laughed, he felt that she was the mostroguish troll he could meet in a wood; but he was captured, and she,too, was evidently caught.

　　"How tall you have grown," said she, meaning something quite different.

　　She looked at him more and more, laughed more and more, and he laughed,too; but they said nothing. The dog had seated himself on the slope,and was surveying the gard. Thore observed the dog's head from thewater, but could not for his life understand what it could be that wasshowing itself on the cliff above.

　　But the two had now let go of each other's hands and were beginning totalk a little. And when Oyvind was once under way he burst into such arapid stream of words that Marit had to laugh at him.

　　"Yes, you see, this is the way it is when I am happy—truly happy, yousee; and as soon as it was settled between us two, it seemed as ifthere burst open a lock within me—wide open, you see."

　　She laughed. Presently she said,—

　　"I know almost by heart all the letters you sent me."

　　"And I yours! But you always wrote such short ones."

　　"Because you always wanted them to be so long."

　　"And when I desired that we should write more about something, then youchanged the subject."

　　"'I show to the best advantage when you see my tail,'[1] said thehulder."

　　[Footnote 1: The hulder in the Norse folk-lore appears like a beautifulwoman, and usually wears a blue petticoat and a white sword; but sheunfortunately has a long tail, like a cow's, which she anxiouslystrives to conceal when she is among people. She is fond of cattle,particularly brindled, of which she possesses a beautiful and thrivingstock. They are without horns. She was once at a merry-making, whereevery one was desirous of dancing with the handsome, strange damsel;but in the midst of the mirth a young man, who had just begun a dancewith her, happened to cast his eye on her tail. Immediately guessingwhom he had gotten for a partner, he was not a little terrified; but,collecting himself, and unwilling to betray her, he merely said to herwhen the dance was over: "Fair maid, you will lose your garter." Sheinstantly vanished, but afterwards rewarded the silent and considerateyouth with beautiful presents and a good breed of cattle. FAYE'STraditions.—NOTE BY TRANSLATOR.]

　　"Ah! that is so. You have never told me how you got rid of Jon

　　Hatlen."

　　"I laughed."

　　"How?"

　　"Laughed. Do not you know what it is to laugh?"

　　"Yes; I can laugh."

　　"Let me see!"

　　"Whoever beard of such a thing! Surely, I must have something to laughat."

　　"I do not need that when I am happy."

　　"Are you happy now, Marit?"

　　"Pray, am I laughing now?"

　　"Yes; you are, indeed."

　　He took both her hands in his and clapped them together over and overagain, gazing into her face. Here the dog began to growl, then hishair bristled and he fell to barking at something below, growing moreand more savage, and finally quite furious. Marit sprang back inalarm; but Oyvind went forward and looked down. It was his father thedog was barking at. He was standing at the foot of the cliff with bothhands in his pockets, gazing at the dog.

　　"Are you there, you two? What mad dog is that you have up there?"

　　"It is the dog from the Heidegards," answered Oyvind, somewhatembarrassed.

　　"How the deuce did it get up there?"

　　Now the mother had put her head out of the kitchen door, for she hadheard the dreadful noise, and at once knew what it meant; and laughing,she said,—

　　"That dog is roaming about there every day, so there is nothingremarkable in it."

　　"Well, I must say it is a fierce dog."

　　"It will behave better if I stroke it," thought Oyvind, and he did so.

　　The dog stopped barking, but growled. The father walked away as thoughhe knew nothing, and the two on the cliff were saved from discovery.

　　"It was all right this time," said Marit, as they drew near to eachother again.

　　"Do you expect it to be worse hereafter?"

　　"I know one who will keep a close watch on us—that I do."

　　"Your grandfather?"

　　"Yes, indeed."

　　"But he shall do us no harm."

　　"Not the least."

　　"And you promise that?"

　　"Yes, I promise it, Oyvind."

　　"How beautiful you are, Marit!"

　　"So the fox said to the raven and got the cheese."

　　"I mean to have the cheese, too, I can assure you."

　　"You shall not have it."

　　"But I will take it."

　　She turned her head, but he did not take it.

　　"I can tell you one thing, Oyvind, though." She looked up sideways asshe spoke.

　　"Well?"

　　"How homely you have grown!"

　　"Ah! you are going to give me the cheese, anyway; are you?"

　　"No, I am not," and she turned away again.

　　"Now I must go, Oyvind."

　　"I will go with you."

　　"But not beyond the woods; grandfather might see you."

　　"No, not beyond the woods. Dear me! are you running?"

　　"Why, we cannot walk side by side here."

　　"But this is not going together?"

　　"Catch me, then!"

　　She ran; he after her; and soon she was fast in the bushes, so that heovertook her.

　　"Have I caught you forever, Merit?" His hand was on her waist.

　　"I think so," said she, and laughed; but she was both flushed andserious.

　　"Well, now is the time," thought he, and he made a movement to kissher; but she bent her head down under his arm, laughed, and ran away.She paused, though, by the last trees.

　　"And when shall we meet again?" whispered she.

　　"To-morrow, to-morrow!" he whispered in return.

　　"Yes; to-morrow."

　　"Good-by," and she ran on.

　　"Marit!" She stopped. "Say, was it not strange that we met first onthe cliff?"

　　"Yes, it was." She ran on again.

　　Oyvind gazed long after her. The dog ran on before her, barking; Maritfollowed, quieting him. Oyvind turned, took off his cap and tossed itinto the air, caught it, and threw it up again.

　　"Now I really think I am beginning to be happy," said the boy, and wentsinging homeward.