Johan Bojer

“ Up there he was not a rich man dressed in furs. He was in a frieze suit, and went on ski through the forest; and the exercise and the fresh air did him good. He saw immense piles of timber, and it was his; he stopped now and again to look out over endless stretches of tufted fir-trees, sprinkled with snow and gilded by the sun, and they were his.
“If Wangen had even been a worthy antagonist,” he thought, as he leant upon his ski-staff and surveyed his wealth. “If it had been Herlufsen now.” But this man was down in the world, and did not own so much as the spoon he ate with. ”

“ The fury of the country-side against Wangen only placed Norby in a better light. If one man took Wangen’s part, it stirred up twenty to range themselves on Norby’s side; and as the old man drove along in his single sledge, dressed in his fur coat, people bowed lower than before, and those who had hitherto never bowed did so now. And the old man would laugh silently to himself. “The beasts despise me for what I have done,” he thought, “but men respect me. Such is life!” ”

“ It conflicts with all my experience of life to think that a man may commit forgery, as Wangen does, to prove himself innocent of forgery, and that a man may become unselfish, as Norby becomes unselfish, by practising the most selfish duplicity. If I had to believe this I should also have to believe that there is no knowledge of right and wrong in the heart of man, no sense of sin, that conscience is only a juggling fiend, and that the presiding power in the world not only is not God, but the devil. ”

“ It was near the middle of April, and the spring had begun to appear. One day the sun was shining warm upon the bare fields when Fru Wangen stood on the verandah looking out. The river was rushing by, yellow and foaming, often hidden by alder bushes that were beginning to show green buds. To the right lay the shining lake, reflecting soft, bright clouds.
“Let me see, mamma!” cried the two little girls, as they hung on to her skirts, both trying to climb up and see.
At that moment she heard a well-known cough down by the garden gate. It was her father. ”

“ In this feeling of death and the dark night, Norby again saw the parish—his parish; but this time all the people were alike, they were all ready to die, all cold, pale, suffering beings, such as one ought to be good to.
“Do you know what I’m thinking about, Marit?”
“No,” came the rather sleepy answer.
“Why, that if we do something downright bad it’s not at all certain that the consequences will be obliterated if we die. It’s very likely they go on living and doing harm to others for a long time.” ”

“ He continued to stand motionless in the same position.
“Yes,” he said; “that man is both jealous of his honour and revengeful. He wasn’t made chairman of the parish last time either, and I expect he thinks it’s my fault.”
“Good heavens!” she sighed.
As he stood there, he could see in his mind’s eye Norby with his cherished grudge, sitting in his house like a wicked ogre, ready to burst with a desire for revenge, and this distorted picture strengthened Wangen’s feeling of innocence, which now seemed like a kind of thread upon which he hung, and which must not break. ”

“ When Marit Norby entered, she saw the pastor’s wife and Fru Thora of Lidarende among the audience. They both gave her a friendly recognition, and made room for her between them.
When Wangen stood at the bar and protested his innocence, the pastor’s wife turned towards Marit Norby with a sigh and a look, which said: “Poor man, how foolish he is!”
Thora of Lidarende already felt as if she must burst into tears. Wangen was so pale and emaciated; his throat was so thin inside his collar, and the back of his head seemed so big. His back was actually bent. Poor man! If only he would confess! ”

“ But day by day the inquiry drew nearer, and he involuntarily began to grope about for a means of pulling through after all, if in spite of everything it should come to an inquiry.
But what he now had to get ready to say at the bar would be falsehoods again; and at this Norby stopped like a horse that will not venture upon an unsafe bridge. He pushed backwards; he was afraid; he was not accustomed to it.
No one is so much in the humour for philosophising as he who is suffering in secret. ”

“ It never occurred to Fru Thora that her opinion of Wangen’s guilt could be wrong, since she sat there and pitied him. From the very first this opinion had fostered a number of beautiful, charitable thoughts in her mind; and she therefore never considered how she had arrived at it. It was a view that had made her willing to make some sacrifice, for instance, to adopt one of Wangen’s children; and a conviction for which one sacrifices something, not only becomes a certainty, but grows so dear that it actually acquires a moral value. ”

“ But there sat the house like the troll with its head up to the sky, and called across the valley, jibing and mocking as it always did when Norby was in trouble: “How are you, Norby? Do you feel bad?”
“Poor father!” said Ingeborg to her mother in the kitchen. “He begins to look so pale and wretched; he can’t possibly be well.”
“No,” said her mother; “I suppose it’s this affair that is telling upon him. Of course it can’t be very pleasant, but it isn’t our fault. Wangen has himself to thank for it.” ”

“ The horse pricked up its ears, and stepped timidly over the rough ice; but Knut roused it with a smart touch of the whip, and the sledge bounded from hummock to hummock until it reached the smooth, shining surface of the lake.
When one annoyance follows close upon another, the feeling induced is like that of a blow falling upon a place where there is a wound already. First of all to-day, the old man had been outvoted in a school committee matter; it was against that wretched parish schoolmaster. ”

“ Whenever Pastor Borring had imparted forgiveness of sins he was always unhappy; for in the first place he did not feel that God had charged him with the forgiveness of sins, and in the second he did not believe in the notion of forgiveness. And yet in the course of time he had laid his hand in church upon the heads of thousands, and lied this dangerous comfort into their souls.
And now he was sitting here, unhappy once more. He had never felt more distinctly than now how altogether meaningless it was to pardon, to forgive. If God forgave Lars Kleven, was He also to pardon on Wangen’s behalf? ”

“ If Pastor Borring had been alone and uninfluenced by the moment, he would have answered: “Even if Christ died for your sins, and even if you get to heaven, Wangen may suffer just as much in consequence of your sin.” He had it in his mind to say it, too, but it was another matter to look up and meet the old, frightened eyes.
“Do you think there’s pardon for me?” came at last from the bed; and the priest had to answer.
“Yes,” he said looking up.
“Will you pray for me?” said Lars, turning his quid in his mouth. The priest rose and folded his hands; but what should he pray? He thought of Wangen. ”

“ What if it had been some one else and not your father?”
Einar Norby had often been guilty of judging harshly, especially in the case of public men. He belonged to the generation of young men who, through bitter disappointments, have conceived a deep suspicion both of the ideas and of the men who had once aroused the enthusiasm of their early youth.
While he lay upon the sofa with his hand over his eyes, the mocking voice within him went on: “Now you must show what one ought to do. Be sure you don’t show any family considerations; don’t be a party to any corruption, like public men! ”

“ When at last Norby got into bed, he folded his hands and said a couple of verses of a hymn. He felt so near to God; and the respect and sympathy of the whole district now shone into his conscience, but he would thank God for it all.
“But there is one thing I can’t understand,” he thought after a while, “and that is how people can stand like Wangen with a calm face and lie in court. God help those who have no more conscience than to do it!” ”

“ 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. ”

“ When he came in sight of his house, which lay a little to the left of the dark mass of the brick-kilns, he saw a light in a single window. He remembered his wife’s condition and the bailiff’s visit. “Poor Karen!” he thought; “perhaps she was at home, alone too.” And a flood of anger filled his heart, anger this time not against himself, but against Norby. “Is he quite mad? What does he mean by this?” It was a relief to be able to turn his indignation against others than himself. ”

“ When he ended, the wife was crying, and the old man lay with his hands folded upon the coverlet, and the tears running down his cheeks. When the priest sat down, he said: “Will you give me the sacrament?”
The priest rose mechanically and opened his bag. He heard the swallows flying past the window outside in the sunshine, and the starling that had its nest up under the eaves. It was like another message to tell him that life was greater than man’s idea of right and wrong. ”

“ This time he heard Marit laugh.
When his examination was over, he remembered the declaration from Haarstad’s widow, and asked to be recalled when Sören Kvikne had given evidence. When he came out of the room he stood on the stairs for a little while to cool himself before putting on his cap. There was a voice far away, crying: “You have lied!” But it was too far away, and powerful voices rose against it. It was true, was it, that he had defrauded that widow?
He still seemed to hear Wangen’s laughter, and he thought once more: “Wait a little, and I’ll give you something to laugh at!” ”

“ Ingeborg became doubly zealous in her attentions to her father the more depressed he seemed to be. How touched she was at his taking the matter so much to heart! People could see now how good her father was! She had always known that he was the best man in the world.
But how frightened the poor girl was the day she heard that Wangen had said that it was Norby, and not himself, who would go to prison. Up to that time she had had a certain amount of sympathy with Wangen, because he was guilty; but now he became a dreadful man in her eyes. ”

“ It happened that Norby realised in himself and his belongings some of the ideals that Fru Thora of Lidarende cherished. She had always thought there was something particularly Norwegian about Norby. The broad, strongly-built farmer, living in his large house and ruling over his labourers, was like a direct descendant of the old kings. In the store-house at Norby she knew there lay a quantity of old harness, drinking-bowls, sledges, and carved household articles, and she had speculated as to how to get hold of them for a country museum. ”

“ Norby was now passing farms with lights in the windows. The largest of them, standing up on the hill, was Rud, which Norby’s enemies maintained was larger than Norby’s place. It was here that his great rival lived, the wealthy Mads Herlufsen of Rud.
Norby could see this farm from his own sitting-room window; and as time went on it became impossible for him to think of Herlufsen without seeing in his mind’s eye his farm-buildings, the woods around, the hill behind—the whole thing like a troll with its head towards the sky ”

“ The schoolmaster thought it over, and the warm appreciation of Norby’s goodness to his farm-servants touched him and overcame his last scruples.
“Well, I’m quite willing to join,” he said. “But who is to make the speech?” he thought to himself.
“Yes,” said Fru Thora, taking another sip of wine. “But you aren’t going to be let off so easily. You will have to make the speech. No one can do it so well.”
“I?” said Heggen, his brow flushing; but he finally agreed. If a few words were to be said in honour of Fru Norby, perhaps Fru Thora of Lidarende might attempt them. ”

“ Suddenly there was a sound of sledge-bells going down the avenue. It was the old man, in his fur coat with the collar turned up, hastening away to fetch the doctor. Einar must be kept alive. The poor dog, which had not been let in, uttered a joyful bark at sight of the driver, and bounded through the snow to join him.
It was still long before any one at the farm got up; only the pensioners in the old cottage began to yawn in their sleep. This they began to do an hour before they woke, and they always woke at four, from long habit. ”

“ A star seemed to have risen in the firmament of his consciousness, and pointed to an inquiry, acquittal, and reparation. Half unconsciously he felt that this would be salvation, not only as regarded this accusation, but also all others.
“Norby is one of those men of whom you never can make anything,” he answered. “It is quite possible that the couple of thousand now in question have quite robbed him of his wits.” ”

“ If I read this wonderful book aright, it says as its final word that a life of deception does not always [Pg ix] wither up and harden the human heart, but sometimes expands and softens it; that a man may pass from lie to lie until he is convinced that he is as white as an angel, and, having betrayed himself into a belief in his innocence, that he may become generous, unselfish, and noble. ”

“ When at length he came up to the bedroom, Marit already lay yawning in bed, but Norby began to pace up and down the floor, with his thumbs hooked into the armholes of his waistcoat. He was in far too good humour to go to bed at once.
“Ah well,” said Marit quietly, “this can be an example to others, and encourage people to be patient and enduring.”
“Yes,” said Norby, stopping at the window, where he could see the fjord in the moonlight, “the main thing is to act honourably and uprightly.” ”

“ She loosed his hand to stroke his wrist, and answered in a low voice: “Oh no, Henry! It’s worst for you. Good heavens!”
“No, Karen, for I’m a man; and he was your father.”
The last words gave her a shock, and once more brought the image of the dead man before her eyes. But she could not stand this any longer. It couldn’t be Wangen’s fault. And insensibly she took refuge in Wangen, in his innocence, wherein now lay her only safety. ”

“ When a woman gets back her child that robbers have taken, one can understand that her joy is unbounded, but that her hatred of those who took him from her, her fear of their coming again, and her desire to render them harmless, are just as great as her happiness. It was the same with Norby now. In the midst of his joy he thought of Wangen. “They didn’t succeed,” he thought. “There’s One who’s stronger than all their artifices.” While he sat and thanked God in an indescribable feeling of happiness, he saw Wangen and his other enemies as evil forces that might come again ”

“ He rose with an impetuous movement, and began to pace the floor.
“The only thing I’m afraid of,” he said demonstratively—for he was quite willing that Norby should hear this—“is that he’ll get off too easily. After thinking it over, I don’t think he ought to come out of prison any more.”
The pastor felt as if he had received a blow, and rose quickly. “If he is in the right,” he thought, “then Heaven help the right that has fallen into such hands! Can being in the right make a man so coarse and bad? No! He is guilty!” ”