Quite late in autumn, among the mountains in Bergen's shire, where the land is sheltered and fruitful, there are occasionally days almost like summer. On such afternoons, the cattle, even if they have already begun with the winter feeding, are again let out into the pasture; they are well fed and frisky, and when they are driven home at night, the scene is lively. Thus they came down over the mountain track, cows, sheep, and goats, bellowing, butting, and skipping, their bells merrily ringing, and were just approaching the farm as Petra was driving by. It was a beautiful day, the window panes in the long white wooden buildings glittered in the sun, and above the houses, towered the mountains, so thickly covered with firs, birch, ash, bird cherry, rowan trees, and the projecting rocks with juniper bushes, that the houses seemed quite sheltered by them. Facing the road, in front of the house, was a garden, apples, cherry, and plum trees flourished in abundance; red and black currant, and gooseberry bushes grew along the walks and fences, and above all, towered some grand old ash trees with their broad and stately crowns. The house looked like a nest half hidden among the branches, out of reach for everything but the sun. But just this seclusion awakened a longing in Petra, and when she heard it was the deanery, she exclaimed: "I must go in here!" and pulling in the reins, she turned along the garden. A couple of Finnish dogs rushed out upon her as she drove into the farm yard, a large square, enclosed with buildings, the cattle stall opposite the house, another wing of the house to the right, and to the left the brewery, wash house, and labourers' room. The farm yard was now full of cattle, and in the midst of them stood a lady, tall and elegant; she wore a tight fitting dress, and a little silk handkerchief over her head; round about and above her[2] were goats, white, black, brown, and parti-coloured, all with their little bells sounding in harmony; she had a name for each of her goats, and now she had something nice for them in a dish, which the milkmaid continually replenished. Upon the low step leading from the house to the farm yard, the rural dean was standing with a plate of salt, and in front of him were the cows licking the salt out of his hand and off the step where he strewed it. The dean was not a tall man, but compact, with short neck and short forehead; the bushy eyebrows lay over eyes that did not often look straight before them, but now and then cast a flashing glance aside. His thick grey hair was cut short, and stood up on all sides, it grew down over his neck nearly as much as on his head; he wore no neckerchief, but a shirt stud; in the front the shirt was open,--one could see his hairy bosom; neither was it buttoned at the wrists, so the shirt cuffs came down over the small, powerful hands, now all licked over by the cows; both hands and arms were shaggy. He