Ovind: A Story of Country Life in NorwayBjørnson, Bjørnstjerne
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Ovind: A Story of Country Life in Norway
Bjørnson, Bjørnstjerne
Norway -- Fiction
"Yes, it was just about that I wanted to see you; things go wrong, and
I shall soon be gone."
"Then you should see that you are ready to go, Ole;" he shuts the book,
and sits looking at the binding.
"It's a good book you have in your hand, there."
"Yes, that's true;--have you often got beyond the fly leaf, Ole?"
"Lately, yes--"
The schoolmaster lays the book aside, and puts his spectacles by.
"Things are not just as you would wish them now, Ole."
"Nor have they been as far back as I can remember."
"Well it was the same with me for a long time. I was not on good terms
with a friend of mine, I wanted him to come to me, and I was miserable;
at last I bethought me I would go to him, and since then I have been
happy."
Ole looks up, but is silent.
The schoolmaster: "How do you think the farm is doing, Ole?"
"It is going backwards like myself."
"Who will take it when you are gone?"
"It is just this I don't know, and it troubles me."
"Your neighbours are doing well, Ole."
"Yes, they have the Agriculturist to help them."
The schoolmaster turns towards the window, saying somewhat carelessly,
"You should have help too Ole, you can't walk much, and you know very
little of the new method."
"Oh, there's no one who would help me!"
"Have you asked anyone?"
But Ole makes no reply.
The schoolmaster: "It was long thus between myself and God. 'Thou art
not good to me,' I said to Him. 'Hast thou asked me to be so?' He
replied. No, I had not, then I prayed, and all things went on well."
Ole is still silent, and now the schoolmaster is silent too.
At last Ole says, "I have a grandchild she knows what it would please
me to see before I am borne away, but she does not do it."
The schoolmaster smiles: "Perhaps it would not please her? There are
many things that trouble you, but so far as I can see, all the
difficulties centre at last on the farm."
Ole replies feelingly: "Yes, it has passed from one generation to
another, and the soil is good. All that father after father has got
together, has been laid out there, and now things don't grow. Neither
do I know, when I am taken away, who shall come in my stead. He cannot
be of our kindred."
"But there is your granddaughter.--"
"But he who takes her, how will he manage the farm? This I long to know
before I die. There is haste Baard, both for me and the farm."
After a pause, the schoolmaster said, "Shall we go out a little and
look at the farm, this fine day?"
"Yes, let us go, I have labourers up there; they gather the leaves, but
they don't work except they see me."
He hobbled for his great cap and stick, saying as he went, "They don't
like working for me, I don't know how it is."
On coming out and turning the corner, he exclaimed, "Here you see, no
order; the wood scattered all over, the axe not stuck in the log." He
bent over with difficulty, took it up and slashed it in.
"There, do you see that sheep skin fallen down, but has any one hung it
up?" He did it himself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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