"No, he who is ambitious is not happy," and he looked up calmly into the quiet heavens.
CHAP. VI.
NOT QUITE FAIR.
Half a year after, in the Autumn, the confirmation being deferred till then, the candidates were all a.s.sembled in the school-room for examination, and among them Ovind Pladsen and Marit Heidegaard. Marit had just come down from the pastor, who had given her a book and much praise, and she laughed and talked with her friends on all sides. Marit was now quite grown up, free and easy in her manners, and the boys as well as the girls knew that Jon Hatlen, the first young man in the district was paying attention to her. She might well be glad they thought as she sat there.
Close by the door there stood a group of girls and boys who had failed in their examination, and these were crying, while Marit and her friends were laughing. Among them was a little boy in his father"s boots and with his mother"s church handkerchief,--"Dear, oh dear!" he sobbed, "I daren"t go home again."
And those who had not yet been called up, were so affected by the power of fellow feeling that it caused a general silence. Fear seized them in the throat and eyes; they could not see clearly, neither could they swallow, though feeling a constant desire to do so.
One sat and reckoned up how much he knew, and although a few hours before he had found he knew everything required, he now saw with equal certainty that he knew nothing; he could not even read. Another called to mind all his wrong-doings from the earliest time he could remember, till now when he sat there, and he though it wouldn"t be strange of G.o.d if He didn"t let him pa.s.s. A third sat and took signs from everything around him. If the clock, which was on the point of striking, should not sound till he counted twenty, he would pa.s.s; if the footstep he heard in the pa.s.sage was that of the farm-boy Lars, he would pa.s.s; if the great raindrop that ran down the window pane should get to the bottom, he would pa.s.s. The last and final proof should be, if he could get the one foot twisted right round the other, but this he always found to be impossible. A fourth felt sure that if they would ask him only about Joseph in the Bible history, and about baptism in the Catechism, or about Saul, or the Commandments, or about Jesus, or----he sat and was still proving himself, when he was called. A fifth had a strong partiality for the Sermon on the Mount, he had dreamt about the Sermon on the Mount, he was certain to be heard in the Sermon on the Mount; he said it over to himself, and he thought to go out and read it over again, when just then he was called up to be questioned on the Prophets. The sixth thought about the pastor, who was such a good man and knew his father so well, and of the schoolmaster, who had so friendly a face, and of G.o.d, who was so really good, and had helped so many before both Jacob and Joseph, and then he thought that his mother and sisters at home would be praying for him, and that would certainly help. The seventh sat and gave up in despair all the things he had thought he would be when he grew up. Once he had thought of being a general or a pastor, and once he had even dreamt of being king, but now that time was gone by. Up to the present he had thought of going to sea, and of becoming captain, perhaps a pirate, and thereby to attain great riches; now gave up first the riches, then the pirate, then the captain, and the mate, and he stopped at the common sailor, or, at the most, the boatswain, if ever he got to sea at all, but probably he must just take a place on his father"s farm.
The eighth was more confident of himself, but yet not sure; the cleverest even was not sure. He thought of the clothes he was to be confirmed in, and what they could be used for if he did not pa.s.s; but if he pa.s.sed he should go to town and get cloth clothes, and come home again at Christmas time and dance, to the envy of the youths and the astonishment of the girls. The ninth reckoned differently;--he made up a small account book between himself and G.o.d. On the one side he wrote, "Debit; He shall let me pa.s.s," and on the other side, "Credit; so shall I never lie any more, nor tell tales; always go to church, leave the girls to themselves, and never swear any more." The tenth thought that if Ole Hansen had pa.s.sed last year, it would be more than injustice if he, who had always got on better at school, and besides was of better family, should not pa.s.s this year. By his side sat the eleventh, who revolved in his mind the most fearful plans of revenge in case he should fail, either to burn the school down, or else to leave the village and come again as the thundering judge of the pastor and the whole of the school commissioners, but proudly to let mercy go before justice. To begin with, he would take a place with the pastor in the neighbouring district, and there be number one next year, giving answers so as to astonish the whole church.
The twelfth sat by himself under the clock, with both his hands in his pockets, looking over the a.s.sembly with a dejected and sorrowful air.
No one here knew what was his responsibility. One at home knew it; he was betrothed. A great daddy long-legs came crawling along the floor near to his feet; he used to tread upon the odious insect, but to-day he kindly lifted his foot to let it go in peace whithersoever it would.
His voice was mild as a Collect; his eyes said continually that all men were good; his hands slowly moved out of his pocket and up to his hair, to smooth it down. If only he could squeeze himself through this dangerous needle eye, he would recover himself again at the other side, smoke tobacco, and make his engagement public.
Down on a low stool, with his legs crouched up together under him, sat the uneasy thirteenth; his small sparkling eyes looked round the whole room three times in a second, and through his strong rough head rushed all the thoughts of the twelve in broken disorder, from the brightest hope to the most despairing doubt, from the humblest promises to the most mighty plans of revenge; and, meanwhile, having bitten his poor thumb so that he could bite no longer, he began with his nails, and sent great pieces to all parts of the floor.
Ovind sat by the window, having been up and given correct answers to everything he had been asked; but neither the pastor nor the schoolmaster had commended him, though for a whole half-year he had been thinking what they both would say when they got to know how hard he had worked, and he felt very much disappointed as well as hurt.
There sat Marit, who, for far less labour and knowledge, had received both encouragement and reward. It was just to be great in her eyes he had studied, and now she had reached laughing, the point he had toiled so hard to attain. Her laughter and joking touched him to the quick,--the easiness with which she moved wounded him. He had carefully avoided speaking to her since that evening; years should pa.s.s first he thought, but the sight of her now, so bright and lively, pressed him down, and all his proud resolutions hung as wet leaves.
He sought little by little to shake it off; much, however, depended on his being Number One to-day, and to know this he waited anxiously. The schoolmaster used to remain a little while with the pastor to consider the order in which the children should stand, and then he would come down and tell them the result; it was certainly not the final decision, but it was what they agreed upon together.
The conversation in the room became more and more lively as one after another was examined and pa.s.sed; but now the ambitious began to separate themselves from those who were merely light-hearted. The latter either went at once to tell their parents and friends of their success, or they waited for their companions who had not yet been called up; the former, on the contrary, became more and more silent, their eyes directed constantly towards the door.
At last the young people were all ready, the last had come down, and the schoolmaster was consulting with the pastor. Ovind looked at Marit; she was one of those who had remained, but whether for her own sake or for others he knew not. How beautiful Marit had grown; exquisitely fine was her complexion, he had never seen its equal; her nose was well formed, her mouth smiling. Her eyes were dreamy when she was not directly looking at any one, but therefore her glance came with unexpected power when it did come; and she half smiled in the same, as if to say that she meant nothing by it. Her hair was more dark than light, it was wavy, and she wore long curls, which, together with the dreamy eyes, gave a depth and charm that captivated. One could not be certain who it was that she looked for, as she sat there among them all, nor what she really thought when she turned to any one to speak, for that which she gave she took as quickly back again. Under all this, Jon Hatlen is certainly hidden, thought Ovind, but yet he continued to look at her.
Then the schoolmaster came. They all with one accord rushed up to him.
"What number am I?" "And I?" "And I, I?"
"Silence! uproarious children,---no noise here; be quiet, and then I will tell you."
He looked slowly round him. "You are Number 2," he said to a lad with blue eyes looking beseechingly at him, and the lad danced out of the circle. "You are Number 3,"--he touched a red-haired quick little boy who stood and pulled at his coat; "You are Number 5;" "You Number 8,"
&c. He caught sight of Marit,--"You are Number One of the girls." She blushed crimson over her face and neck, but tried to smile. "You, Number 12, have been lazy, you idle worthless scamp;" "Number 11, you couldn"t expect to stand higher, my lad;" "You, Number 13, must read diligently before the confirmation or else you won"t succeed!"
Ovind could not bear it any longer. Number One had certainly not been named, and yet he had stood the whole time so that the schoolmaster could see him. "Schoolmaster?" He did not hear. "Schoolmaster!" Three times he had to call before he was heard.
At last the schoolmaster looked at him--"Number 9 or 10, can"t say exactly which," said he, and turned quickly to another.
"Who is Number One then?" asked Hans, who was Ovind"s best friend.
"Not you, you curly head!" and tapped him on the hand with a paper roll.
"Who is it then?" asked many. "Who is it?" "Yes, who is it?"
"He will get to know it himself!" said the schoolmaster decidedly. He would not have more questions.
"Now go nicely home children, thank G.o.d, and make your parents happy!
Thank your old schoolmaster too, if it had not been for him you would not have been good for much!"
They thanked him and laughed, then went joyously home. One only was left, who could not quickly find his books, and when he found them, sat down as if to read again.
The schoolmaster went up to him, "Well Ovind, are you not going with the others?"
He did not answer.
"Why are you opening your books again?"
"I want to see what it is that I"ve answered wrong."
"You have not answered anything wrong."
Ovind looked at him, and the tears gathered in his eyes, he turned his head away while one after another rolled slowly down, but he did not speak a word.
The schoolmaster went in front of him,--"Are you not pleased that you have pa.s.sed?"
His lips quivered, but he did not answer.
"Your father and mother will be very pleased," said the schoolmaster, and looked at him.
Ovind struggled some time to get a word out; at last he asked in slow broken sentences,--"Is it--because I--am a peasant lad--that I am Number 9 or 10?"
"Surely it must be so," said the schoolmaster.
"Then it is no use for me to work," said he hopelessly, and all his grand dreams vanished. Suddenly he lifted his head, raised his right hand, struck it on the table with all his might, cast himself down on his face, and burst into a violent fit of tears.
The schoolmaster left him to lay there and cry it out; he waited long, till at last his grief became more childlike. Then he rose took Ovind"s head in both his hands, lifted it up, and looked into the tearful face.
"Do you think G.o.d has been with you?" said he, as he looked kindly at him.
Ovind sobbed still, but not so violently, the tears ran more quietly, but he dare not look at him who spoke, nor reply.
"This, Ovind, has been a deserved reward; you have not read from love to religion, nor your parents, but you have read from vanity."
There was silence in the room between each time of the schoolmaster"s speaking, and Ovind felt his glance to be resting upon him, and grew softened and humbled under it.
"With such angry feelings in your heart, you could not have stood forth to have made a compact with your G.o.d, could you Ovind?"
"No," he stammered, as well as he could.