Ovind: A Story of Country Life in NorwayBjørnson, Bjørnstjerne
General
Ovind: A Story of Country Life in Norway
Bjørnson, Bjørnstjerne
Norway -- Fiction
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 pass; but
if he passed 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 God. On the one side he wrote,
"Debit; He shall let me pass," 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 passed 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 pass 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 assembly 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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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