CHAPTER IXWHENNorby entered the hall, the first thing he noticed was that Herlufsen was not among the guests; but all the other magnates were there, and there was a general greeting when he appeared.It was a large, airy hall, and the setting sun shone through the long windows that looked out upon the fjord, and formed three broad bands of light across the floor, upon which the festively attired guests moved, either through the dark or through the gold. There was a hum of conversation, and there was a continual cracking of whips outside, where fresh carriages were driving up to the steps, or off towards the roads.Among the dress-coated farmers, who cautiously kept close to the walls, while they glanced at the long table decorated with flowers, strutted the owner of the saw-mills, a stout man, with a gold chain dangling upon his expansive waistcoat. He laughed loudly, and his red face shone; for when he had heard that there was nothing to be got here but home-made wine, he had indulged a little before heleft home. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, with a wave of his hand, “I don’t think you’re in a properly festive mood yet.”The magistrate, a stout man with silvery hair and beard, took Norby by the arm and pointed out the walls. They were decorated with flags and garlands of leaves; and here and there, in place of arms, were old, artistic, domestic articles, such as painted and carved harness and saddles, wooden spoons and bowls with flowers painted on them. Fru Thora had lent the rudiments of her country museum.“Look here!” said the magistrate, with a pleasant little laugh. “Isn’t that pretty? There’s Norwegian nature in the greenery, freedom in the flags, and our northern culture in all the rest. The combination forms a beautiful harmony.”“Yes, it’s quite pretty,” said Norby, with a slight yawn. Suddenly he felt his coat-tails pulled, and turning round he found two old acquaintances smiling at him, both farmers from up the valley, who had been jurymen at the trial.“What, have you come all this way?” said Norby, taking them by the hand.They told him that Wangen was supposed to be busy upon a fresh newspaper article, which accused the jurymen of partiality, and when they heard that, they were so angry that—that they set their teeth, and came to the dinner too.But now Norby was led to the table. At one end of the long table a kind of raised seat had beenarranged for the guest of honour; and on one side of him sat his wife, on the other the wife of the magistrate. When he looked down the table, and all the handsome women in gay silk bodices, and male notorieties with wide shirt-fronts, he could not help turning his head to his wife and whispering: “This is just like what we had at our silver wedding.”During the soup, Einar got into a discussion with a member of the Storthing, who sat opposite him. Several others took part in the discussion, and Einar grew angry, but suddenly he felt as if an invisible hand had struck him, and a voice within him said: “Yes, be severe in your judgment of others, Einar, you who are such a hero yourself!” And he instantly bowed his head and was silent; and he felt the blood mount to his face.Laura, true enough, had been paired with the bailiff’s son; and though he had not yet noticed her new dress, she still felt that everything was wrapped in a wonderful golden mist, and she had a vague notion that this was her own wedding.“After dinner you must help me with something,” he said to her.“What is it?” she asked curiously, as she tried to push an obstinate wave of hair off her forehead.“I won’t tell you now. You must wait.”When the joint was served, the schoolmaster rose and tapped his glass. This was Fru Thora’s great moment, and she felt her heart beat with joy andpride, for there had been so much ill-will between the schoolmaster Heggen and Knut Norby. Now Heggen was standing there, and was going to make a speech in honour of his enemy. This was her work. And there had been many misunderstandings between the schoolmaster and the old magistrate; but she had made Heggen take the magistrate’s daughter in to dinner; for they should all be friends this evening, and learn to understand one another.Looking at the speaker, “Isn’t he handsome?” she whispered to the gentleman who had taken her in. The sun was just sinking, and its last rays played upon the glass on the table, and made the tulips in the large bouquets glow.Forks were laid down and faces turned towards the schoolmaster’s tall figure. His voice vibrated with emotion, and Fru Thora thought she had never heard him speak so beautifully as now when he was making a speech in honour of his old enemy. He called this dinner an event in the district. He held his glass in one hand, and with the other fingered his long beard, and looked at nothing in particular through his spectacles, while the sun threw a ray of light across his fine forehead.This was an event, because he had never seen so many dissimilar people united in a common object, a common desire to do good. There were still Birkebeins and Baglers to divide people in this country; but this evening he seemed to read amessage of spring in this festive meeting. Like Olaf at Stiklestad, he seemed to be looking out over the whole country with its blue hills and shining fjords, over farms and lands, and into the many minds; and he descried the day when all men would be united in a sabbath atmosphere, with hands joined in brotherhood, united in waging war against the powers of evil, united in helping those who had suffered wrong. “Whatever religion we profess, or party we belong to, we shall henceforward agree in considering that the human in man is higher than all difference of opinion; and when the human being, Norby, suffers persecution and derogation, as he has lately done, we hasten to him, enclose him in a chain of fraternity, and say: ‘Here are we, your brothers and sisters, Knut Norby; we will wash you clean. Here we are!’”Scarcely a breath was heard during the impressive speech, until the sound of gentle weeping was heard a little way up the table. It was Fru Heggen, who always cried when her husband made a speech.Gradually several faces turned from the speaker to the guests of the evening. Fru Norby sat with her eyes full of tears, and smiled; but Norby looked down, and modestly shook his head, as if to say, “You mustn’t say anything more, Heggen.”When at length the speech came to an end, and the guests rose to drink with the guests of honour, the saw-mill owner roared: “Long live Norby andFru Norby! Hip, hip!” And his abandonment to the spirit of the occasion was quickly followed, and the hurrahs rang.Ingeborg sat and looked on with tears in her eyes. Her joy was unbounded, she thought how patiently her father had borne all the persecution; she thought of her prayers, and involuntarily looked upwards, saying to herself: “My God, I thank Thee for answering my prayers.” She seemed to see a host of good, protecting spirits, above the heads of her parents up there. Her mother looked at her; they both had tears in their eyes and smiled. They remembered the night when they dared not go to bed after the riots at Norby.To Marit Norby it seemed now as if all evil, all suspicion were melting and must be wept out; and it felt so delightful that she could not help smiling all the time.But worse was to come, when Fru Thora of Lidarende rose, after the knives and forks had clattered for a time, and made a speech in her honour. It was a woman’s and a mother’s heart beating with hers. Mention was made of her struggle to keep up her husband’s courage in adversity, even while she was nursing her son through a dangerous illness. It was a great deed, a woman’s heroic action, such as is seldom mentioned at festive entertainments, but is often, very often performed in secret.No one had ever heard such eloquence in awoman. She stood there, slim, youthful in appearance despite her five and forty years, full of fire and warmth of feeling. Her hearers were astonished that this feeling did not overwhelm her and make her burst into tears; but she stood and smiled all the time, although her eyes were wet. Every one had to acknowledge that she was handsome, in her plain black dress and little white lace collar about her neck. It was no wonder that she showed feeling, for she was thinking all the time of her own son, the little Gunnar of Lidarende, who was in bed with whooping cough.The toasting and cheers for Fru Norby were deafening; but she burst into audible weeping, for it was true. It had been a hard time.At the mention of his mother and his illness, Einar was also touched, and went up and drank with his parents.It had gradually grown so dark that the large hanging lamps over the table had to be lighted; and although there was nothing but home-made wine, spirits had risen, so that most of the faces shone red in the lamplight, the conversation was lively, and the laughter resounded.The two jurymen were seated at the lower end of the table. One of them now said cautiously to the other: “Isn’t it customary to chair the guest of honour?”“We musn’t be in a hurry,” said the other as cautiously.“What was it we called Norby, when we were at the agricultural school with him?”“Fatty,” said the other, surreptitiously taking up a bone in his fingers. His companion began to laugh; for it was so amusing to think that they had once been so intimate with Norby as to call him Fatty.But now a silence fell on the assembly when Norby himself tapped his glass. He rose, a little red in the face, and looked first at Marit and then at the company assembled. His voice was hoarse when he said: “I must return thanks both for myself and my wife. And now I will ask you to drink to the health of one of whom I cannot help thinking this evening—the judge.” And when the health had been drunk, Fru Thora cried enthusiastically: “Long live the judge! Long live the jury!”This evoked loud applause, and the saw-mill owner led the enthusiasm with his hip, hip. One of the jurymen started up, saying: “Come! Now we’ll take him!” “Don’t be in a hurry!” said the other. “Yes,” said the first. “We’ll show people that we repudiate Wangen’s charge of partiality!”At this the other rose, too, and they both stole up to take Norby by the arms. At first the old man resisted strenuously, but when one of the jurymen said: “Come now, Fatty,” memories of younger days were called up, and he laughed and gave in. The whole company shouted when he was carried round; and when he had got back to his seat, FruThora got up and said to a young farmer’s wife: “Then Fru Norby shall be carried round too!” And they rushed up and took Marit by the arms, and the enthusiasm increased, except with the saw-mill owner, where it gradually began to come to a sad end. While the others grew merrier as they ate and drank home-made wine, his spirits began to go down more and more, and he whispered to the magistrate: “Don’t you think we shall have a little something with the coffee?”The magistrate shook his head, and the mill-owner sighed deeply, and wiped his forehead.“I say,” said Norby to his wife; “it’s strange that Herlufsen isn’t here!”“How naughty you are!” whispered Marit, laughing; and the old man chuckled.More speeches followed, the best being one by a young teacher in honour of his country. The national song was then sung standing, several taking parts; and finally Pastor Borring rose. He knew that he was expected to say something, and although his presence had been well considered, he felt strangely oppressed. After Wangen had made use of a forged letter in court, he understood of course that his first supposition had been correct, and that Lars Kleven’s confession had only been the crotchet of a dying man; but nevertheless he could not help thinking of Wangen, and to the surprise of every one he now began to speak of him. He asked those present to give a sympathetic thought to the unfortunateman who was guilty. It had been rightly said this evening that they should join hands round him who is innocent. Quite right! But let them also, if only in spirit, at the same time join hands round him who was guilty. He stood most in need of reparation and help. And his wife—; but here the pastor could say no more, and sat down; and there were tears in several eyes.A fresh astonishment was created when Norby tapped his glass, and rising said: “I propose that we start a list to make a collection for Fru Wangen. I will do what I can myself. We must remember that she is left with three children unprovided for!”There was a pause when he sat down. People looked at one another with eyes that said “He’s a man in a thousand!”
WHENNorby entered the hall, the first thing he noticed was that Herlufsen was not among the guests; but all the other magnates were there, and there was a general greeting when he appeared.
It was a large, airy hall, and the setting sun shone through the long windows that looked out upon the fjord, and formed three broad bands of light across the floor, upon which the festively attired guests moved, either through the dark or through the gold. There was a hum of conversation, and there was a continual cracking of whips outside, where fresh carriages were driving up to the steps, or off towards the roads.
Among the dress-coated farmers, who cautiously kept close to the walls, while they glanced at the long table decorated with flowers, strutted the owner of the saw-mills, a stout man, with a gold chain dangling upon his expansive waistcoat. He laughed loudly, and his red face shone; for when he had heard that there was nothing to be got here but home-made wine, he had indulged a little before heleft home. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, with a wave of his hand, “I don’t think you’re in a properly festive mood yet.”
The magistrate, a stout man with silvery hair and beard, took Norby by the arm and pointed out the walls. They were decorated with flags and garlands of leaves; and here and there, in place of arms, were old, artistic, domestic articles, such as painted and carved harness and saddles, wooden spoons and bowls with flowers painted on them. Fru Thora had lent the rudiments of her country museum.
“Look here!” said the magistrate, with a pleasant little laugh. “Isn’t that pretty? There’s Norwegian nature in the greenery, freedom in the flags, and our northern culture in all the rest. The combination forms a beautiful harmony.”
“Yes, it’s quite pretty,” said Norby, with a slight yawn. Suddenly he felt his coat-tails pulled, and turning round he found two old acquaintances smiling at him, both farmers from up the valley, who had been jurymen at the trial.
“What, have you come all this way?” said Norby, taking them by the hand.
They told him that Wangen was supposed to be busy upon a fresh newspaper article, which accused the jurymen of partiality, and when they heard that, they were so angry that—that they set their teeth, and came to the dinner too.
But now Norby was led to the table. At one end of the long table a kind of raised seat had beenarranged for the guest of honour; and on one side of him sat his wife, on the other the wife of the magistrate. When he looked down the table, and all the handsome women in gay silk bodices, and male notorieties with wide shirt-fronts, he could not help turning his head to his wife and whispering: “This is just like what we had at our silver wedding.”
During the soup, Einar got into a discussion with a member of the Storthing, who sat opposite him. Several others took part in the discussion, and Einar grew angry, but suddenly he felt as if an invisible hand had struck him, and a voice within him said: “Yes, be severe in your judgment of others, Einar, you who are such a hero yourself!” And he instantly bowed his head and was silent; and he felt the blood mount to his face.
Laura, true enough, had been paired with the bailiff’s son; and though he had not yet noticed her new dress, she still felt that everything was wrapped in a wonderful golden mist, and she had a vague notion that this was her own wedding.
“After dinner you must help me with something,” he said to her.
“What is it?” she asked curiously, as she tried to push an obstinate wave of hair off her forehead.
“I won’t tell you now. You must wait.”
When the joint was served, the schoolmaster rose and tapped his glass. This was Fru Thora’s great moment, and she felt her heart beat with joy andpride, for there had been so much ill-will between the schoolmaster Heggen and Knut Norby. Now Heggen was standing there, and was going to make a speech in honour of his enemy. This was her work. And there had been many misunderstandings between the schoolmaster and the old magistrate; but she had made Heggen take the magistrate’s daughter in to dinner; for they should all be friends this evening, and learn to understand one another.
Looking at the speaker, “Isn’t he handsome?” she whispered to the gentleman who had taken her in. The sun was just sinking, and its last rays played upon the glass on the table, and made the tulips in the large bouquets glow.
Forks were laid down and faces turned towards the schoolmaster’s tall figure. His voice vibrated with emotion, and Fru Thora thought she had never heard him speak so beautifully as now when he was making a speech in honour of his old enemy. He called this dinner an event in the district. He held his glass in one hand, and with the other fingered his long beard, and looked at nothing in particular through his spectacles, while the sun threw a ray of light across his fine forehead.
This was an event, because he had never seen so many dissimilar people united in a common object, a common desire to do good. There were still Birkebeins and Baglers to divide people in this country; but this evening he seemed to read amessage of spring in this festive meeting. Like Olaf at Stiklestad, he seemed to be looking out over the whole country with its blue hills and shining fjords, over farms and lands, and into the many minds; and he descried the day when all men would be united in a sabbath atmosphere, with hands joined in brotherhood, united in waging war against the powers of evil, united in helping those who had suffered wrong. “Whatever religion we profess, or party we belong to, we shall henceforward agree in considering that the human in man is higher than all difference of opinion; and when the human being, Norby, suffers persecution and derogation, as he has lately done, we hasten to him, enclose him in a chain of fraternity, and say: ‘Here are we, your brothers and sisters, Knut Norby; we will wash you clean. Here we are!’”
Scarcely a breath was heard during the impressive speech, until the sound of gentle weeping was heard a little way up the table. It was Fru Heggen, who always cried when her husband made a speech.
Gradually several faces turned from the speaker to the guests of the evening. Fru Norby sat with her eyes full of tears, and smiled; but Norby looked down, and modestly shook his head, as if to say, “You mustn’t say anything more, Heggen.”
When at length the speech came to an end, and the guests rose to drink with the guests of honour, the saw-mill owner roared: “Long live Norby andFru Norby! Hip, hip!” And his abandonment to the spirit of the occasion was quickly followed, and the hurrahs rang.
Ingeborg sat and looked on with tears in her eyes. Her joy was unbounded, she thought how patiently her father had borne all the persecution; she thought of her prayers, and involuntarily looked upwards, saying to herself: “My God, I thank Thee for answering my prayers.” She seemed to see a host of good, protecting spirits, above the heads of her parents up there. Her mother looked at her; they both had tears in their eyes and smiled. They remembered the night when they dared not go to bed after the riots at Norby.
To Marit Norby it seemed now as if all evil, all suspicion were melting and must be wept out; and it felt so delightful that she could not help smiling all the time.
But worse was to come, when Fru Thora of Lidarende rose, after the knives and forks had clattered for a time, and made a speech in her honour. It was a woman’s and a mother’s heart beating with hers. Mention was made of her struggle to keep up her husband’s courage in adversity, even while she was nursing her son through a dangerous illness. It was a great deed, a woman’s heroic action, such as is seldom mentioned at festive entertainments, but is often, very often performed in secret.
No one had ever heard such eloquence in awoman. She stood there, slim, youthful in appearance despite her five and forty years, full of fire and warmth of feeling. Her hearers were astonished that this feeling did not overwhelm her and make her burst into tears; but she stood and smiled all the time, although her eyes were wet. Every one had to acknowledge that she was handsome, in her plain black dress and little white lace collar about her neck. It was no wonder that she showed feeling, for she was thinking all the time of her own son, the little Gunnar of Lidarende, who was in bed with whooping cough.
The toasting and cheers for Fru Norby were deafening; but she burst into audible weeping, for it was true. It had been a hard time.
At the mention of his mother and his illness, Einar was also touched, and went up and drank with his parents.
It had gradually grown so dark that the large hanging lamps over the table had to be lighted; and although there was nothing but home-made wine, spirits had risen, so that most of the faces shone red in the lamplight, the conversation was lively, and the laughter resounded.
The two jurymen were seated at the lower end of the table. One of them now said cautiously to the other: “Isn’t it customary to chair the guest of honour?”
“We musn’t be in a hurry,” said the other as cautiously.
“What was it we called Norby, when we were at the agricultural school with him?”
“Fatty,” said the other, surreptitiously taking up a bone in his fingers. His companion began to laugh; for it was so amusing to think that they had once been so intimate with Norby as to call him Fatty.
But now a silence fell on the assembly when Norby himself tapped his glass. He rose, a little red in the face, and looked first at Marit and then at the company assembled. His voice was hoarse when he said: “I must return thanks both for myself and my wife. And now I will ask you to drink to the health of one of whom I cannot help thinking this evening—the judge.” And when the health had been drunk, Fru Thora cried enthusiastically: “Long live the judge! Long live the jury!”
This evoked loud applause, and the saw-mill owner led the enthusiasm with his hip, hip. One of the jurymen started up, saying: “Come! Now we’ll take him!” “Don’t be in a hurry!” said the other. “Yes,” said the first. “We’ll show people that we repudiate Wangen’s charge of partiality!”
At this the other rose, too, and they both stole up to take Norby by the arms. At first the old man resisted strenuously, but when one of the jurymen said: “Come now, Fatty,” memories of younger days were called up, and he laughed and gave in. The whole company shouted when he was carried round; and when he had got back to his seat, FruThora got up and said to a young farmer’s wife: “Then Fru Norby shall be carried round too!” And they rushed up and took Marit by the arms, and the enthusiasm increased, except with the saw-mill owner, where it gradually began to come to a sad end. While the others grew merrier as they ate and drank home-made wine, his spirits began to go down more and more, and he whispered to the magistrate: “Don’t you think we shall have a little something with the coffee?”
The magistrate shook his head, and the mill-owner sighed deeply, and wiped his forehead.
“I say,” said Norby to his wife; “it’s strange that Herlufsen isn’t here!”
“How naughty you are!” whispered Marit, laughing; and the old man chuckled.
More speeches followed, the best being one by a young teacher in honour of his country. The national song was then sung standing, several taking parts; and finally Pastor Borring rose. He knew that he was expected to say something, and although his presence had been well considered, he felt strangely oppressed. After Wangen had made use of a forged letter in court, he understood of course that his first supposition had been correct, and that Lars Kleven’s confession had only been the crotchet of a dying man; but nevertheless he could not help thinking of Wangen, and to the surprise of every one he now began to speak of him. He asked those present to give a sympathetic thought to the unfortunateman who was guilty. It had been rightly said this evening that they should join hands round him who is innocent. Quite right! But let them also, if only in spirit, at the same time join hands round him who was guilty. He stood most in need of reparation and help. And his wife—; but here the pastor could say no more, and sat down; and there were tears in several eyes.
A fresh astonishment was created when Norby tapped his glass, and rising said: “I propose that we start a list to make a collection for Fru Wangen. I will do what I can myself. We must remember that she is left with three children unprovided for!”
There was a pause when he sat down. People looked at one another with eyes that said “He’s a man in a thousand!”