The Fisher Girl

The poem was said tremblingly, solemnly, without a trace of affectation. They stood as if a ray had shot up among them from the earth, in all the splendours of the rainbow. No one spoke, no one moved;--but the captain could no longer control himself, he sprang up, puffed, stretched himself, and said: "Well I don't know how it is with you; but when I am taken in this way, the deuce take me if--"--"Captain, there you swore again," said the little girl, and held up her finger threateningly; "the devil will come this very hour and take you!"--"Well, it is all the same my child, let him come, for now I must, the deuce take me, must have a patriotic song!" And so he began with a voice so terrific, that one would have thought the great stomach gave pressure as organ bellows--and the rest with him:--

Signe came and put her arm round Petra, and drew her into the study where no one was. "Really," she said, "you have so captivated me that I must:----Petra, shall we be friends again!"--"Oh, Signe, then at last you forgive me!"--"Yes, now I can, however things turn! Petra, do you not love Odegaard?"--"Heavens, Signe!"--"Petra! I have thought it from the very first day,--and now at last he has come to----All that I have thought and done for you in these two and a half years has been with this in view, and father has thought the same; I believe he has already spoken to Odegaard about it."--"But Signe----!" "Hush," she put her hand to Petra's lips and ran away, there was some one calling; it was tea time.

There was wine on the table, as the dean had been absent from dinner; he had been very grave all the afternoon, and now sat as though no one were present, till they were about to leave the table, when he tapped on his wine glass, and said: "I have a betrothal to announce!"--Every one looked at the young girls who were sitting together, and these neither of them knew whether to fall from their chairs or remain seated.

"I have a betrothal to announce," repeated the dean, as though he found it difficult to proceed. "I must confess that at first it was not just what I wished."--All the guests looked at Odegaard in astonishment, and their amazement knew no bounds when they saw him sitting quietly looking at the dean.--"To speak plainly, I thought that he was not worthy of her."--The guests here became so embarrassed that no one dare longer look up, and as the girls had not ventured to do so at all, the dean had but one face to talk to, and that was Odegaard's, who meanwhile was enjoying perfect composure. "But now," continued the dean, "now, when I have learnt to know him better, it has ended in my doubting whether she is worthy of HIM, so noble does he appear to me; for it is Art, the great dramatic Art betrothed to Petra, my foster daughter, my dear child; may it go well with you! I tremble at the thought, but that which belongs together must go together. God be with you, my daughter!" In a moment she was in his arms.

As no one sat down again, the whole company naturally left the table. Petra went up to Odegaard, who drew her into the furthest window; he had something to say to her now, but she must first say: "I owe it all to you!"--"No, Petra; I have been only a kind brother; it was a great sin of mine that I wished to be more; for if it had happened it would have hindered your whole career."--"Odegaard!" They held each other's hands, but did not look up; a moment after, he left her.

The day following Odegaard left the deanery.

Just after Christmas, Petra received a letter with a large official seal; she felt quite nervous and took it in to the dean to open. It was from the magistrate in her native town, and read thus: "Whereas Pedro Ohlsen, who yesterday departed this life, has left a will as follows:

I beg to ask if you will communicate with your mother respecting it, or you wish me to do it."

The next mail brought a letter from the mother, written by Pastor Odegaard, the only one in whom she dare now confide; it contained the information that she was willing to fulfil the requirement, namely to inform Petra who Pedro was.

This information and the legacy gave Petra a peculiar feeling; it seemed as if everything were now putting itself to rights; it was another reminder of her departure.

Then it was for her artist life that old Peer Ohlsen had fiddled his money together at weddings and dances, and son and grandson in different ways, by little and little added thereto. The sum was not great but it was sufficient to bring her further out into the world, and thus more quickly forward.

The thought rose as sunshine before her, that now she could repay her mother, her mother should come to her, every day she could give her some happiness. She wrote a long letter to her every post day, she could scarcely wait for the answer, and when it came it was a bitter disappointment, for Gunlaug thanked her, but observed, "that each was best in his own place." Then the dean promised to write, and when Gunlaug got his letter, she could no longer contain herself, she must tell her sailors and other acquaintances, that her daughter was going to be something great, and wanted her to go to her. Thus the matter became a very important topic in the town, it was discussed on the quay, in the boats, and in all kitchens. Gunlaug, who up to this time had never named her daughter, now spoke of nothing but "my daughter Petra," even as no one spoke of anything else to her.

But still though it grew near to the time of Petra's departure, Gunlaug had not given her consent, which grieved the daughter much. It was expressly promised her on the contrary, both by the dean and Signe, that they would be present when she should make her first appearance.

The snow began to disappear from the mountains, the fields to grow a little green. She had only a few more days at the deanery, and she and Signe went round and bade farewell to all and everything,--especially to the places they mutually held dear. Then they were informed by a peasant, that Odegaard was up at Oygarene, and would soon be coming down to them. The girls both grew very shy, and ceased to go out.

When Odegaard came, he was lighthearted and happy as never seen before. His errand in the district was to establish a free high school, and at first, till he got a teacher, he meant to conduct it himself; afterwards he would carry out other plans. In this way he would repay he said, some of the debt his father owed to the district,--and his father had promised to come to him as soon as the house was ready. It was to be near the deanery. The dean, as well as Signe, was exceedingly pleased at the prospect; Petra too, but she felt it a little strange, that he should settle down there just as she was leaving.

The dean wished that the day before Petra's departure they should partake of the Lord's supper together. So a quiet solemnity fell over the last days, and when they spoke it was in a half whisper. In these days the dean never passed by Petra without stroking her hair, and at the holy ceremony in church, at which with the exception of an officiating clergyman and the sexton, there were none present but themselves, he spoke particularly to her, and spoke as he would do at their own table on a birthday or holiday. It would now soon be shown, he said, whether the time that in prayer for Divine grace she this day brought to a close, had laid a good foundation. No man's life is really perfected before he reaches his right vocation. Our work is revealed to us, and he who comes with truth, and holds himself worthy, will reap the greatest and most lasting harvest. It is true the Lord often makes use of the unworthy also, even as in a higher sense we are all unworthy. He makes use of our longings. But there is a vocation that no man can discover from his longings alone, and that he supposed she was aiming at; every one must strive to reach the highest. He bade her come frequently to see them, for it is the intention of the church that companionship in faith should help and strengthen. If she had erred, she would here always meet with sympathy, and if she herself understood not that she had strayed, they would most affectionately tell her.

The next day at the parting meal, he bade her the most tender farewell, "He was of her friend's opinion," he said, "that she ought to begin her career ALONE. In the struggle she would meet, she would find that it was good to know, that in one place there lived a few on whom she could rely; only to know with certainty that they were constantly PRAYING for her,--she would see that it would help!"--After the adieu to Petra, he turned with a welcome to Odegaard. "To be united in love to one and the same is the most beautiful introduction to love one another." The dean certainly never thought in this greeting, of that which first made Signe red, then Petra; and if Odegaard; they did not know, for neither of them ventured to look at him.

But when the horses were at the door, and the three friends stood around the young girl, and all the servants round the carriage, Petra whispered, as for the last time she embraced Signe: "I know I shall soon hear important news from you; may God bless it!"

An hour after she saw only the white pinnacles that showed where the place lay.

XII.

THE SCENE.

One evening just before Christmas the theatre of the metropolis was sold out; a new actress was to appear, about whom there were the greatest expectations. Sprung from the people--her mother was a poor fisherwoman--she had reached her present position by the help of others who had discovered her talents, and she gave great promise. In the time before the curtain rose, all sorts of things were whispered about her; she was said to have been a strange unruly child, and later when grown up, to have been betrothed to six at one time, and to have kept it going for half a year. The town was in such an uproar on her account, that she had had to be conducted out of it by a guard of police; it was remarkable that the director should allow such a character to appear. Others affirmed there was not the slightest truth in the statement; she had been educated in a clergyman's family in Bergen's shire, from the time she was ten years old; she was a cultivated and amiable girl, they knew her well, she must have wonderful talent; she was so handsome.

Others were there who were better authority. First the well-known fish merchant, Yngve Vold. He had come here accidentally on a business journey; it was said that the brilliant Spanish lady, to whom he was married, made the house at home so hot, that he travelled merely to cool himself. He had taken the largest box in the house, and invited his hotel acquaintances to go with him to see "something, devilish something!" He was in remarkable spirits, till he suddenly caught sight of----could it be he?----in a box in the second tier and with a whole ship's company round him?----no! yes!----verily it was Gunnar Ask! Gunnar Ask who through his mother's money had become owner and captain of "The Norwegian Constitution," had in cruising out of the fiord come to sail side by side with a ship bearing the name: "The Danish Constitution," and as Gunnar thought he observed it trying to pass him, such certainly could not be permitted; he put out all the sail he possessed, the old Constitution creaked, and the consequence was, that in his endeavour to scud before the wind as long and as far as possible, he ran the ship aground in a most preposterous place, and was now reluctantly detained in the town while the vessel was being patched up. One day he met Petra in the street, and she was so thoroughly kind both then and afterwards, that he not only forgot his grudge, but called himself the greatest fool that ever sailed from their native place, that he could ever have imagined himself worthy of such a girl as Petra. To-day he had taken tickets at a premium for the whole of his crew, and mentally resolved to treat them between each act, and the seamen, all from Petra's native place, and familiar with the mother's tavern, that earthly paradise, felt Petra's honour to be their own, and sat and promised each other that they would applaud as had never been heard before.

Down below in the parquet one could see the dean's thick bristly hair. He looked calm, he had entrusted her cause to a Higher Power. By his side sat Signe, now Signe Odegaard. Her husband, herself and Petra, had just returned from a three month's tour on the continent; she looked happy, as she sat and smiled over to Odegaard, for between them sat an old woman with snow-white hair, that rose above her brown face like a crown; sitting higher than everybody, she could be seen from the whole house, and soon every opera glass was directed towards her, for it was said she was the young actress's mother. She who bore a man's name, now also produced so powerful an impression, that she shed peace over the daughter. A youthful people is full of expectancy, it possesses faith in the inner power of its nature, and the faith was roused by the sight of this mother? She herself saw neither anything nor anybody; she was indifferent as to what was coming; she was there only to see whether people were kind to her daughter or not.

The time was almost up; conversation died away in the suspense that by degrees pervaded all, and did them good.

A flourish of drums, trumpets and horns, suddenly opened the overture; Oehlenschläger's "Axel and Valborg" was to be played, and Petra had herself chosen this. She was sitting behind the scenes and listening.

Before the curtain, the small number of her countrymen that the house could muster, were trembling on her account, as one always does when expecting anything personally dear of one's own to be brought forward. It was as if each were about to appear on the stage himself; at such moments many prayers arise, even from hearts that otherwise seldom pray.

The overture grew softer, peace fell over the harmonies, they melted gradually away as in sunlight. It was over,--anxious silence ensued.

The curtain rose.

FOOTNOTES:

Footnote 1: Norwegian idiom, to get a long nose--to be disappointed.--Tr.

Footnote 2: The farms are often built on a steep mountain side.--Tr.

BURNETT AND HOOD, MIDDLESBROUGH.

NOTICES OF THE PRESS.

"We drop from fairy land to one almost as attractive in Ovind.... There is about it a delightful freshness."--Athenæum, Nov. 20, 1869.

"Ovind is thoroughly simple and genuine, a word-painting wonderfully like those Scandinavian pictures which most of us saw for the first time in the Exhibition of 1862.... Its subdued harmonious tones have a singular charm about them, and leave a very distinct impression."--The Spectator, Dec. 25, 1869.

"The tale is told in simple language with many quaint touches of humour."--Daily Telegraph, Dec, 24, 1869.

"The story relates simply, but very beautifully, the young loves of a peasant boy and a landowners grand-daughter, and introduces in the course of the narrative very many Norwegian customs."--Public Opinion, Dec. 11, 1869.

"The great merits of Björnson's literary style are his intense originality and unfaltering simplicity. All his writings are thoroughly true to nature, while the sombre scenery of his native land inspires him with a diction which we meet with in no other books, and is entirely his own."--The Examiner and London Review, Jan. 1, 1870.

"One of the most winning little stories we have ever read."--The Literary Churchman, Nov. 29, 1869.

"The translators are to be congratulated upon their successful rendering of the story, the publishers have also got up the book in a highly creditable manner. Altogether the translation is well worthy of all who are interested in Scandinavian literature."--Iron and Coal Trades Review, Dec. 22, 1869.

"Opens to us a field of freshness and beauty which never loses its charm for readers of all ages."--Standard, Jan. 26, 1870.

"It is not for the novelty of the story so much as for the fresh vivid picture it presents of peasant life in Norway that we commend the book to the English reader."--Trubner's American and Oriental Literary Record, Dec. 24, 1869.

"This is a charmingly simple and beautiful story ... It is as real as actual life, and as poetical as Milton's Paradise, not great with ponderous thoughts, but running over with exquisite poetry, suggesting new worlds of beauty lying under every day things.... A pure spiritual beauty, which the author has drawn from the simplest outward things in peasant life, lies over all the story, and bathes everything in the cool calm light of heaven."--The Border Advertiser, Dec. 19, 1869.

"The book is indeed redolent of country pastures, of sweet smelling pine woods, of happy, glad, unsophisticated Northern life.... It touches chords lying hidden in the depths of the mysteries of race and language, and moves us as, perhaps, no book of the warm but alien south could succeed in doing."--Northern Daily Express.

"The story has enough of originality, and of the foreign element, to make it quite worthy of translation and of general acceptance."--The Illustrated London News, July 23, 1870.

"We cannot speak too highly of the excellence of this translation. It reads as if it had been originally written in English."--The Manchester Weekly Times, June 11, 1870.

Words by Munch. Translated from the Norwegian, by S. and E. Hjerleid.
Music by Kjerulf.

(The Song by which the Swedish Singers won the Prize at the Paris Exhibition of 1867.)

1s. 6d. post free from the Translators, North Ormesby, Middlesbrough.

LONDON: F. PITMAN, 20, PATERNOSTER ROW.

BURNETT AND HOOD, PRINTERS, MIDDLESBROUGH.