CHAPTER IV

by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

　　Of Oyvind's further progress until a year before confirmation there isnot much to report. He studied in the morning, worked through the day,and played in the evening.

　　As he had an unusually sprightly disposition, it was not long beforethe neighboring children fell into the habit of resorting in theirplaytime to where he was to be found. A large hill sloped down to thebay in front of the place, bordered by the cliff on one side and thewood on the other, as before described; and all winter long, onpleasant evenings and on Sundays, this served as coasting-ground forthe parish young folks. Oyvind was master of the hill, and he ownedtwo sleds, "Fleet-foot" and "Idler;" the latter he loaned out to largerparties, the former he managed himself, holding Marit on his lap.

　　The first thing Oyvind did in those days on awaking, was to look outand see whether it was thawing, and if it was gray and lowering overthe bushes beyond the bay, or if he heard a dripping from the roof, hewas long about dressing, as though there were nothing to beaccomplished that day. But if he awoke, especially on a Sunday, tocrisp, frosty, clear weather, to his best clothes and no work, onlycatechism or church in the morning, with the whole afternoon andevening free—heigh! then the boy made one spring out of bed, donnedhis clothes in a hurry as if for a fire, and could scarcely eat amouthful. As soon as afternoon had come, and the first boy on skeesdrew in sight along the road-side, swinging his guide-pole above hishead and shouting so that echoes resounded through the mountain-ridgesabout the lake; and then another on the road on a sled, and stillanother and another,—off started Oyvind with "Fleet-foot," boundeddown the hill, and stopped among the last-comers, with a long, ringingshout that pealed from ridge to ridge all along the bay, and died awayin the far distance.

　　Then he would look round for Marit, but when she had come he payed nofurther attention to her.

　　At last there came a Christmas, when Oyvind and Marit might be aboutsixteen or seventeen, and were both to be confirmed in the spring. Thefourth day after Christmas there was a party at the upper Heidegards,at Marit's grandparents', by whom she had been brought up, and who hadbeen promising her this party for three years, and now at last had togive it during the holidays. Oyvind was invited to it.

　　It was a somewhat cloudy evening but not cold; no stars could be seen;the next day must surely bring rain. There blew a sleepy wind over thesnow, which was swept away here and there on the white Heidefields;elsewhere it had drifted. Along the part of the road where there wasbut little snow, were smooth sheets of ice of a blue-black hue, lyingbetween the snow and the bare field, and glittering in patches as faras the eye could reach. Along the mountain-sides there had beenavalanches; it was dark and bare in their track, but on either sidelight and snow-clad, except where the forest birch-trees put theirheads together and made dark shadows. No water was visible, buthalf-naked heaths and bogs lay under the deeply-fissured, melancholymountains. Gards were spread in thick clusters in the centre of theplain; in the gloom of the winter evening they resembled black clumps,from which light shot out over the fields, now from one window, nowfrom another; from these lights it might be judged that those withinwere busy.

　　Young people, grown-up and half-grown-up, were flocking together fromdiverse directions; only a few of them came by the road, the others hadleft it at least when they approached the gards, and stole onward, onebehind the stable, a couple near the store-house, some stayed for along time behind the barn, screaming like foxes, others answered fromafar like cats; one stood behind the smoke-house, barking like a crossold dog whose upper notes were cracked; and at last all joined in ageneral chase. The girls came sauntering along in large groups, havinga few boys, mostly small ones, with them, who had gathered about themon the road in order to appear like young men. When such a bevy ofgirls arrived at the gard and one or two of the grown youths saw them,the girls parted, flew into the passages or down in the garden, and hadto be dragged thence into the house, one by one. Some were soexcessively bashful that Marit had to be sent for, and then she cameout and insisted upon their entering. Sometimes, too, there appearedone who had had no invitation and who had by no means intended to goin, coming only to look on, until perhaps she might have a chance justto take one single dance. Those whom Marit liked well she invited intoa small chamber, where her grandfather sat smoking his pipe, and hergrandmother was walking about. The old people offered them somethingto drink and spoke kindly to them. Oyvind was not among those invitedin, and this seemed to him rather strange.

　　The best fiddler of the parish could not come until later, so meanwhilethey had to content themselves with the old one, a houseman, who wentby the name of Gray-Knut. He knew four dances; as follows: two springdances, a halling, and an old dance, called the Napoleon waltz; butgradually he had been compelled to transform the halling into aschottishe by altering the accent, and in the same manner a springdance had to become a polka-mazurka. He now struck up and the dancingbegan. Oyvind did not dare join in at once, for there were too manygrown folks here; but the half-grown-up ones soon united, thrust oneanother forward, drank a little strong ale to strengthen their courage,and then Oyvind came forward with them. The room grew warm to them;merriment and ale mounted to their heads. Marit was on the floor mostof the time that evening, no doubt because the party was at hergrandparents'; and this led Oyvind to look frequently at her; but shewas always dancing with others. He longed to dance with her himself,and so he sat through one dance, in order to be able to hasten to herside the moment it was ended; and he did so, but a tall, swarthyfellow, with thick hair, threw himself in his way.

　　"Back, youngster!" he shouted, and gave Oyvind a push that nearly madehim fall backwards over Marit.

　　Never before had such a thing occurred to Oyvind; never had any onebeen otherwise than kind to him; never had he been called "youngster"when he wanted to take part; he blushed crimson, but said nothing, anddrew back to the place where the new fiddler, who had just arrived, hadtaken his seat and was tuning his instrument. There was silence in thecrowd, every one was waiting to hear the first vigorous tones from "thechief fiddler." He tried his instrument and kept on tuning; thislasted a long time; but finally he began with a spring dance, the boysshouted and leaped, couple after couple coming into the circle. Oyvindwatched Marit dancing with the thick-haired man; she laughed over theman's shoulder and her white teeth glistened. Oyvind felt a strange,sharp pain in his heart for the first time in his life.

　　He looked longer and longer at her, but however it might be, it seemedto him that Marit was now a young maiden. "It cannot be so, though,"thought he, "for she still takes part with the rest of us in ourcoasting." But grown-up she was, nevertheless, and after the dance wasended, the dark-haired man pulled her down on his lap; she tore herselfaway, but still she sat down beside him.

　　Oyvind's eyes turned to the man, who wore a fine blue broadcloth suit,blue checked shirt, and a soft silk neckerchief; he had a small face,vigorous blue eyes, a laughing, defiant mouth. He was handsome.Oyvind looked more and more intently, finally scanned himself also; hehad had new trousers for Christmas, which he had taken much delight in,but now he saw that they were only gray wadmal; his jacket was of thesame material, but old and dark; his vest, of checked homespun, wasalso old, and had two bright buttons and a black one. He glancedaround him and it seemed to him that very few were so poorly clad ashe. Marit wore a black, close-fitting dress of a fine material, asilver brooch in her neckerchief and had a folded silk handkerchief inher hand. On the back of her head was perched a little black silk cap,which was tied under the chin with a broad, striped silk ribbon. Shewas fair and had rosy cheeks, and she was laughing; the man was talkingto her and was laughing too. The fiddler started another tune, and thedancing was about to begin again. A comrade came and sat down besideOyvind.

　　"Why are you not dancing, Oyvind? " he asked pleasantly.

　　"Dear me!" said Oyvind, "I do not look fit."

　　"Do not look fit?" cried his comrade; but before he could say more,

　　Oyvind inquired,—

　　"Who is that in the blue broadcloth suit, dancing with Marit?"

　　"That is Jon Hatlen, he who has been away so long at an agriculturalschool and is now to take the gard."

　　At that moment Marit and Jon sat down.

　　"Who is that boy with light hair sitting yonder by the fiddler, staringat me?" asked Jon.

　　Then Marit laughed and said,—

　　"He is the son of the houseman at Pladsen."

　　Oyvind had always known that he was a houseman's son; but until now hehad never realized it. It made him feel so very little, smaller thanall the rest; in order to keep up he had to try and think of all thathitherto had made him happy and proud, from the coasting hill to eachkind word. He thought, too, of his mother and his father, who were nowsitting at home and thinking that he was having a good time, and hecould scarcely hold back his tears. Around him all were laughing andjoking, the fiddle rang right into his ear, it was a moment in whichsomething black seemed to rise up before him, but then he rememberedthe school with all his companions, and the school-master who pattedhim, and the priest who at the last examination had given him a bookand told him he was a clever boy. His father himself had sat bylistening and had smiled on him.

　　"Be good now, dear Oyvind," he thought he heard the school-master say,taking him on his lap, as when he was a child. "Dear me! it allmatters so little, and in fact all people are kind; it merely seems asif they were not. We two will be clever, Oyvind, just as clever as JonHatlen; we shall yet have good clothes, and dance with Marit in a lightroom, with a hundred people in it; we will smile and talk together;there will be a bride and bridegroom, a priest, and I will be in thechoir smiling upon you, and mother will be at home, and there will be alarge gard with twenty cows, three horses, and Marit as good and kindas at school."

　　The dancing ceased. Oyvind saw Marit on the bench in front of him, andJon by her side with his face close up to hers; again there came thatgreat burning pain in his breast, and he seemed to be saying tohimself: "It is true, I am suffering."

　　Just then Marit rose, and she came straight to him. She stooped overhim.

　　"You must not sit there staring so fixedly at me," said she; "you mightknow that people are noticing it. Take some one now and join thedancers."

　　He made no reply, but he could not keep back the tears that welled upto his eyes as he looked at her. Marit had already risen to go whenshe saw this, and paused; suddenly she grew as red as fire, turned andwent back to her place, but having arrived there she turned again andtook another seat. Jon followed her forthwith.

　　Oyvind got up from the bench, passed through the crowd, out in thegrounds, sat down on a porch, and then, not knowing what he wantedthere rose, but sat down again, thinking he might just as well sitthere as anywhere else. He did not care about going home, nor did hedesire to go in again, it was all one to him. He was not capable ofconsidering what had happened; he did not want to think of it; neitherdid he wish to think of the future, for there was nothing to which helooked forward.

　　"But what, then, is it I am thinking of?" he queried, half aloud, andwhen he had heard his own voice, he thought: "You can still speak, canyou laugh?" And then he tried it; yes, he could laugh, and so helaughed loud, still louder, and then it occurred to him that it wasvery amusing to be sitting laughing here all by himself, and he laughedagain. But Hans, the comrade who had been sitting beside him, came outafter him.

　　"Good gracious, what are you laughing at?" he asked, pausing in frontof the porch. At this Oyvind was silent.

　　Hans remained standing, as if waiting to see what further might happen.

　　Oyvind got up, looked cautiously about him and said in a low tone,—

　　"Now Hans, I will tell you why I have been so happy before: it wasbecause I did not really love any one; from the day we love some one,we cease to be happy," and he burst into tears.

　　"Oyvind!" a voice whispered out in the court; "Oyvind!" He paused andlistened. "Oyvind," was repeated once more, a little louder. "It mustbe she," he thought.

　　"Yes," he answered, also in a whisper; and hastily wiping his eyes hecame forward.

　　A woman stole softly across the gard.

　　[Transcriber's Note: The above sentence should read, "A woman stolesoftly across the yard." In other early translations, the words "yard"and "court-yard" are used here. "Gard" in this case is apparently atypo. The use of the word, "gard" throughout the rest of this storyrefers to "farm."]

　　"Are you there?" she asked.

　　"Yes," he answered, standing still.

　　"Who is with you?"

　　"Hans."

　　But Hans wanted to go.

　　"No, no!" besought Oyvind.

　　She slowly drew near them, and it was Marit.

　　"You left so soon," said she to Oyvind.

　　He knew not what to reply; thereupon Marit, too, became embarrassed,

　　and all three were silent. But Hans gradually managed to steal away.

　　The two remained behind, neither looking at each other, nor stirring.

　　Finally Marit whispered:—

　　"I have been keeping some Christmas goodies in my pocket for you,Oyvind, the whole evening, but I have had no chance to give them to youbefore."

　　She drew forth some apples, a slice of a cake from town, and a littlehalf pint bottle, which she thrust into his hand, and said he mightkeep. Oyvind took them.

　　"Thank you!" said he, holding out his hand; hers was warm, and hedropped it at once as if it had burned him.

　　"You have danced a good deal this evening," he murmured.

　　"Yes, I have," she replied, "but you have not danced much," sheadded.

　　"I have not," he rejoined.

　　"Why did you not dance?"

　　"Oh"—

　　"Oyvind!"

　　"Yes."

　　"Why did you sit looking at me so?"

　　"Oh—Marit!"

　　"What!"

　　"Why did you dislike having me look at you?"

　　"There were so many people."

　　"You danced a great deal with Jon Hatlen this evening."

　　"I did."

　　"He dances well."

　　"Do you think so?"

　　"Oh, yes. I do not know how it is, but this evening I could not bearto have you dance with him, Marit."

　　He turned away,—it had cost him something to say this.

　　"I do not understand you, Oyvind."

　　"Nor do I understand myself; it is very stupid of me. Good-by, Marit;

　　I will go now."

　　He made a step forward without looking round. Then she called afterhim.

　　"You make a mistake about what you saw."

　　He stopped.

　　"That you have already become a maiden is no mistake."

　　He did not say what she had expected, therefore she was silent; but atthat moment she saw the light from a pipe right in front of her. Itwas her grandfather, who had just turned the corner and was coming thatway. He stood still.

　　"Is it here you are, Marit?"

　　"Yes."

　　"With whom are you talking?"

　　"With Oyvind."

　　"Whom did you say?"

　　"Oyvind Pladsen."

　　"Oh! the son of the houseman at Pladsen. Come at once and go in withme."