'Now, choose the place, you tailor, where I shall knock you down;
And then I'll spit upon it, and there I'll lay your crown.'
'Ah, only come so near, I may catch your scent, my man:
Your bragging hurts nobody; don't dream it ever can.'
The first round was a poor one, and neither man could beat;
But both kept in their places, and steady on their feet.
The second round, poor Bugge was beaten black and blue.
'Little Bugge, are you tired? It's going hard with you.'
The third round, Bugge tumbled, and bleeding there he lay.
'Now, Bugge, where's your bragging?' 'Bad luck to me to-day!'"
This was all the boy sang; but there were two verses more which the mother had never taught him. The grandmother knew these last verses only too well; and she remembered them all the better because the boy did not sing them. She said nothing to him, however, but to the mother, she said, "If you think it well to teach him the first verses, don't forget to teach him the last ones, too."
Nils, the tailor, was so broken down by his drinking, that he was not like the same man; and people began to say he would soon be utterly ruined.
About this time a wedding was celebrated in the neighborhood, and two American gentlemen, who were visiting near, came to witness it, as they wished to see the customs of the country. Nils played; and the two gentlemen each gave a dollar for him, and then asked for the halling. But no one came forward to dance it; and several begged Nils himself to come: "After all, he was still the best dancer," they said. He refused; but their request became still more urgent, and at last all in the room joined in it. This was just what he wanted; and at once he handed his fiddle to another man, took off his jacket and cap, and stepped smilingly into the middle of the room. They all came round to look at him, just as they used to do in his better days, and this gave him back his old strength. They crowded closely together, those farthest back standing on tables and benches. Several of the girls stood higher than all the rest; and the foremost of them—a tall girl, with bright auburn hair, blue eyes, deeply set under a high forehead, and thin lips, which often smiled and then drew a little to one side—was Birgit Böen: Nils caught her eye as he glanced upwards at the beam. The music struck up; a deep silence ensued; and he began. He squatted on the floor, and hopped sidewards in time with the music; swung from one side to another, crossed, and uncrossed his legs under him several times; sprang up again, and stood as though he were going to take a leap; but then shirked it, and went on hopping sidewards as before. The fiddle was skilfully played, and the tune became more and more exciting. Nils gradually threw his head backwarder, and then suddenly kicked the beam, scattering the dust from the ceiling down upon the people below. They laughed and shouted round him, and the girls stood almost breathless. The sound of the violin rose high above the noise, stimulating him by still wilder notes, and he did not resist their influence. He bent forward; hopped in time with the music; stood up as though he were going to take a leap, but shirked it, swung from one side to the other as before; and just when he looked as if he had not the least thought of leaping, leaped up and kicked the beam again and again. Next he turned somersaults forwards and backwards, coming upon his feet firmly, and standing up quite straight each time. Then he suddenly left off; and the tune, after running through some wild variations, died away in one long, deep note on the bass. The crowd dispersed, and an animated conversation in loud tones followed the silence. Nils leaned against the wall; and the American gentlemen, with their interpreter, went over to him, each giving him five dollars. Once more all were silent.
The Americans said a few words aside to their interpreter, who then asked Nils whether he would go with them as their servant. "Where?" Nils asked, while the people crowded round as closely as possible. "Out into the world," was the answer. "When?" Nils asked, as he looked round him with a bright face; his eyes fell on Birgit Böen, and he did not take them off again. "In a week's time when they come back here," answered the interpreter. "Well, perhaps I may then be ready," said Nils, weighing his ten dollars, and trembling so violently, that a man on whose shoulder he was resting one arm, asked him to sit down.
"Oh, it's nothing," he answered, and he took a few faltering steps across the floor, then, some firmer ones, turned round, and asked for a springing-dance.