CHAPTER VI

by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

　　Half a year later—in the autumn it was (the confirmation had beenpostponed until then)—the candidates for confirmation of the mainparish sat in the parsonage servant's hall, waiting examination, amongthem was Oyvind Pladsen and Marit Heidegards. Marit had just come downfrom the priest, from whom she had received a handsome book and muchpraise; she laughed and chatted with her girl friends on all sides andglanced around among the boys. Marit was a full-grown girl, easy andfrank in her whole address, and the boys as well as the girls knew thatJon Hatlen, the best match in the parish, was courting her,—well mightshe be happy as she sat there. Down by the door stood some girls andboys who had not passed; they were crying, while Marit and her friendswere laughing; among them was a little boy in his father's boots andhis mother's Sunday kerchief.

　　"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" sobbed he, "I dare not go home again."

　　And this overcame those who had not yet been up with the power ofsympathy; there was a universal silence. Anxiety filled their throatsand eyes; they could not see distinctly, neither could they swallow;and this they felt a continual desire to do.

　　One sat reckoning over how much he knew; and although but a few hoursbefore he had discovered that he knew everything, now he found out justas confidently that he knew nothing, not even how to read in a book.

　　Another summed up the list of his sins, from the time he was largeenough to remember until now, and he decided that it would not be atall remarkable if the Lord decreed that he should be rejected.

　　A third sat taking note of all things about him: if the clock which wasabout to strike did not make its first stroke before he could counttwenty, he would pass; if the person he heard in the passage proved tobe the gard-boy Lars, he would pass; if the great rain-drop, workingits way down over the pane, came as far as the moulding of the window,he would pass. The final and decisive proof was to be if he succeededin twisting his right foot about the left,—and this it was quiteimpossible for him to do.

　　A fourth was convinced in his own mind that if he was only questionedabout Joseph in Bible history and about baptism in the Catechism, orabout Saul, or about domestic duties, or about Jesus, or about theCommandments, or—he still sat rehearsing when he was called.

　　A fifth had taken a special fancy to the Sermon on the Mount; he haddreamed about the Sermon on the Mount; he was sure of being questionedon the Sermon on the Mount; he kept repeating the Sermon on the Mountto himself; he had to go out doors and read over the Sermon on theMount—when he was called up to be examined on the great and the smallprophets.

　　A sixth thought of the priest who was an excellent man and knew hisfather so well; he thought, too, of the school-master, who had such akindly face, and of God who was all goodness and mercy, and who hadaided so many before both Jacob and Joseph; and then he remembered thathis mother and brothers and sisters were at home praying for him, whichsurely must help.

　　The seventh renounced all he had meant to become in this world. Oncehe had thought that he would like to push on as far as being a king,once as far as general or priest; now that time was over. But even tothe moment of his coming here he had thought of going to sea andbecoming a captain; perhaps a pirate, and acquiring enormous riches;now he gave up first the riches, then the pirate, then the captain,then the mate; he paused at sailor, at the utmost boatswain; indeed, itwas possible that he would not go to sea at all, but would take ahouseman's place on his father's gard.

　　The eighth was more hopeful about his case but not certain, for eventhe aptest scholar was not certain. He thought of the clothes he wasto be confirmed in, wondering what they would be used for if he did notpass. But if he passed he was going to town to get a broadcloth suit,and coming home again to dance at Christmas to the envy of all the boysand the astonishment of all the girls.

　　The ninth reckoned otherwise: he prepared a little account book withthe Lord, in which he set down on one side, as it were, "Debit:" hemust let me pass, and on the other "Credit:" then I will never tell anymore lies, never tittle-tattle any more, always go to church, let thegirls alone, and break myself of swearing.

　　The tenth, however, thought that if Ole Hansen had passed last year itwould be more than unjust if he who had always done better at school,and, moreover, came of a better family, did not get through this year.

　　By his side sat the eleventh, who was wrestling with the most alarmingplans of revenge in the event of his not being passed: either to burndown the school-house, or to run away from the parish and come backagain as the denouncing judge of the priest and the whole schoolcommission, but magnanimously allow mercy to take the place of justice.To begin with, he would take service at the house of the priest of theneighboring parish, and there stand number one next year, and answer sothat the whole church would marvel.

　　But the twelfth sat alone under the clock, with both hands in hispockets, and looked mournfully out over the assemblage. No one hereknew what a burden he bore, what a responsibility he had assumed. Athome there was one who knew,—for he was betrothed. A large,long-legged spider was crawling over the floor and drew near his foot;he was in the habit of treading on this loathsome insect, but to-day hetenderly raised his foot that it might go in peace whither it would.His voice was as gentle as a collect, his eyes said incessantly thatall men were good, his hands made a humble movement out of his pocketsup to his hair to stroke it down more smoothly. If he could only glidegently through this dangerous needle's eye, he would doubtless grow outagain on the other side, chew tobacco, and announce his engagement.

　　And down on a low stool with his legs drawn up under him, sat theanxious thirteenth; his little flashing eyes sped round the room threetimes each second, and through the passionate, obstinate head stormedin motley confusion the combined thoughts of the other twelve: from themightiest hope to the most crushing doubt, from the most humbleresolves to the most devastating plans of revenge; and, meanwhile, hehad eaten up all the loose flesh on his right thumb, and was busied nowwith his nails, sending large pieces across the floor.

　　Oyvind sat by the window, he had been upstairs and had answeredeverything that had been asked him; but the priest had not saidanything, neither had the school-master. For more than half a year hehad been considering what they both would say when they came to knowhow hard he had toiled, and he felt now deeply disappointed as well aswounded. There sat Marit, who for far less exertion and knowledge hadreceived both encouragement and reward; it was just in order to standhigh in her eyes that he had striven, and now she smilingly won what hehad labored with so much self-denial to attain. Her laughter andjoking burned into his soul, the freedom with which she moved aboutpained him. He had carefully avoided speaking with her since thatevening, it would take years, he thought; but the sight of her sittingthere so happy and superior, weighed him to the ground, and all hisproud determinations drooped like leaves after a rain.

　　He strove gradually to shake off his depression. Everything dependedon whether he became number one to-day, and for this he was waiting.It was the school-master's wont to linger a little after the rest withthe priest to arrange about the order of the young people, andafterwards to go down and report the result; it was, to be sure, notthe final decision, merely what the priest and he had for the presentagreed upon. The conversation became livelier after a considerablenumber had been examined and passed; but now the ambitious ones plainlydistinguished themselves from the happy ones; the latter left as soonas they found company, in order to announce their good fortune to theirparents, or they waited for the sake of others who were not yet ready;the former, on the contrary, grew more and more silent and their eyeswere fixed in suspense on the door.

　　At length the children were all through, the last had come down, and sothe school-master must now be talking with the priest. Oyvind glancedat Marit; she was just as happy as before, but she remained in herseat, whether waiting for her own pleasure or for some one else, heknew not. How pretty Marit had become! He had never seen sodazzlingly lovely a complexion; her nose was slightly turned up, and adainty smile played about the mouth. She kept her eyes partiallyclosed when not looking directly at any one, but for that reason hergaze always had unsuspected power when it did come; and, as though shewished herself to add that she meant nothing by this, she half smiledat the same moment. Her hair was rather dark than light, but it waswavy and crept far over the brow on either side, so that, together withthe half closed eyes, it gave the face a hidden expression that onecould never weary of studying. It never seemed quite sure whom it wasshe was looking for when she was sitting alone and among others, norwhat she really had in mind when she turned to speak to any one, forshe took back immediately, as it were, what she gave. "Under all thisJon Hatlen is hidden, I suppose," thought Oyvind, but still staredconstantly at her.

　　Now came the school-master. All left their places and stormed abouthim.

　　"What number am I?"—"And I?"—"And I—I?"

　　"Hush! you overgrown young ones! No uproar here! Be quiet and youshall hear about it, children." He looked slowly around. "You arenumber two," said he to a boy with blue eyes, who was gazing up at himmost beseechingly; and the boy danced out of the circle. "You arenumber three," he tapped a red-haired, active little fellow who stoodtugging at his jacket. "You are number five; you number eight," and soon. Here he caught sight of Marit. "You are number one of thegirls,"—she blushed crimson over face and neck, but tried to smile."You are number twelve; you have been lazy, you rogue, and full ofmischief; you number eleven, nothing better to be expected, my boy;you, number thirteen, must study hard and come to the next examination,or it will go badly with you!"

　　Oyvind could bear it no longer; number one, to be sure, had not beenmentioned, but he had been standing all the time so that theschool-master could see him.

　　"School-master!" He did not hear. "School-master!" Oyvind had torepeat this three times before it was heard. At last the school-masterlooked at him.

　　"Number nine or ten, I do not remember which," said he, and turned toanother.

　　"Who is number one, then?" inquired Hans, who was Oyvind's best friend.

　　"It is not you, curly-head!" said the school-master, rapping him overthe hand with a roll of paper.

　　"Who is it, then?" asked others. "Who is it? Yes; who is it?"

　　"He will find that out who has the number," replied the school-master,sternly. He would have no more questions. "Now go home nicely,children. Give thanks to your God and gladden your parents. Thankyour old school-master too; you would have been in a pretty fix if ithad not been for him."

　　They thanked him, laughed, and went their way jubilantly, for at thismoment when they were about to go home to their parents they all felthappy. Only one remained behind, who could not at once find his books,and who when he had found them sat down as if he must read them overagain.

　　The school-master went up to him.

　　"Well, Oyvind, are you not going with the rest?"

　　There was no reply.

　　"Why do you open your books?"

　　"I want to find out what I answered wrong to-day."

　　"You answered nothing wrong."

　　Then Oyvind looked at him; tears filled his eyes, but he gazed intentlyat the school-master, while one by one trickled down his cheeks, andnot a word did he say. The school-master sat down in front of him.

　　"Are you not glad that you passed?"

　　There was a quivering about the lips but no reply.

　　"Your mother and father will be very glad," said the school-master, andlooked at Oyvind.

　　The boy struggled hard to gain power of utterance, finally he asked inlow, broken tones,—

　　"Is it—because I—am a houseman's son that I only stand number nine orten?"

　　"No doubt that was it," replied the school-master.

　　"Then it is of no use for me to work," said Oyvind, drearily, and allhis bright dreams vanished. Suddenly he raised his head, lifted hisright hand, and bringing it down on the table with all his might, flunghimself forward on his face and burst into passionate tears.

　　The school-master let him lie and weep,—weep as long as he would. Itlasted a long time, but the school-master waited until the weeping grewmore childlike. Then taking Oyvind's head in both hands, he raised itand gazed into the tear-stained face.

　　"Do you believe that it is God who has been with you now," said he,drawing the boy affectionately toward him.

　　Oyvind was still sobbing, but not so violently as before; his tearsflowed more calmly, but he neither dared look at him who questioned noranswer.

　　"This, Oyvind, has been a well-merited recompense. You have notstudied from love of your religion, or of your parents; you havestudied from vanity."

　　There was silence in the room after every sentence the school-masteruttered. Oyvind felt his gaze resting on him, and he melted and grewhumble under it.

　　"With such wrath in your heart, you could not have come forward to makea covenant with your God. Do you think you could, Oyvind?"

　　"No," the boy stammered, as well as he was able.

　　"And if you stood there with vain joy, over being number one, would younot be coming forward with a sin?"

　　"Yes, I should," whispered Oyvind, and his lips quivered.

　　"You still love me, Oyvind?"

　　"Yes;" here he looked up for the first time.

　　"Then I will tell you that it was I who had you put down; for I am veryfond of you, Oyvind."

　　The other looked at him, blinked several times, and the tears rolleddown in rapid succession.

　　"You are not displeased with me for that?"

　　"No;" he looked up full in the school-master's face, although his voicewas choked.

　　"My dear child, I will stand by you as long as I live."

　　The school-master waited for Oyvind until the latter had gatheredtogether his books, then said that he would accompany him home. Theywalked slowly along. At first Oyvind was silent and his struggle wenton, but gradually he gained his self-control. He was convinced thatwhat had occurred was the best thing that in any way could havehappened to him; and before he reached home, his belief in this hadbecome so strong that he gave thanks to his God, and told theschool-master so.

　　"Yes, now we can think of accomplishing something in life," said theschool-master, "instead of playing blind-man's buff, and chasing afternumbers. What do you say to the seminary?"

　　"Why, I should like very much to go there."

　　"Are you thinking of the agricultural school?"

　　"Yes."

　　"That is, without doubt, the best; it provides other openings than aschool-master's position."

　　"But how can I go there? I earnestly desire it, but I have not themeans."

　　"Be industrious and good, and I dare say the means will be found."

　　Oyvind felt completely overwhelmed with gratitude. His eyes sparkled,his breath came lightly, he glowed with that infinite love that bearsus along when we experience some unexpected kindness from afellow-creature. At such a moment, we fancy that our whole future willbe like wandering in the fresh mountain air; we are wafted along morethan we walk.

　　When they reached home both parents were within, and had been sittingthere in quiet expectation, although it was during working hours of abusy time. The school-master entered first, Oyvind followed; both weresmiling.

　　"Well?" said the father, laying aside a hymn-book, in which he had justbeen reading a "Prayer for a Confirmation Candidate."

　　His mother stood by the hearth, not daring to say anything; she wassmiling, but her hand was trembling. Evidently she was expecting goodnews, but did not wish to betray herself.

　　"I merely had to come to gladden you with the news, that he answeredevery question put to him; and that the priest said, when Oyvind hadleft him, that he had never had a more apt scholar."

　　"Is it possible!" said the mother, much affected.

　　"Well, that is good," said his father, clearing his throat unsteadily.

　　After it had been still for some time, the mother asked, softly,—

　　"What number will he have?"

　　"Number nine or ten," said the school-master, calmly.

　　The mother looked at the father; he first at her, then at Oyvind, andsaid,—

　　"A houseman's son can expect no more."

　　Oyvind returned his gaze. Something rose up in his throat once more,but he hastily forced himself to think of things that he loved, one byone, until it was choked down again.

　　"Now I had better go," said the school-master, and nodding, turnedaway.

　　Both parents followed him as usual out on the door-step; here theschool-master took a quid of tobacco, and smiling said,—

　　"He will be number one, after all; but it is not worth while that heshould know anything about it until the day comes."

　　"No, no," said the father, and nodded.

　　"No, no," said the mother, and she nodded too; after which she graspedthe school-master's hand and added: "We thank you for all you do forhim."

　　"Yes, you have our thanks," said the father, and the school-mastermoved away.

　　They long stood there gazing after him.