In God's Way: A Novel

by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

"It is written, 'Soften the heart of the Lord.' Is that not right? Soften the heart of God? Speak, Ole. Soften the heart of God? Answer me!"

He was kneeling down in front of the stove with a piece of firewood in one hand and a knife in the other, he would have lighted the fire; she was so thinly clad; but he stopped now and looked up at her sorrowfully. "I dare not pray for a miracle, Josephine; I am not worth." As he was saying this his agitation increased, and he was so overcome that he had to put down what he had in his hands and cover his face. But when he looked up again he started to his feet; if she had had her arms full of the most costly china and had let it fall so that it was shivered to a thousand pieces ... she could not possibly have looked different, more paralysed, more horror-struck. Her hands were outstretched as though over what she had let fall, her eyes were fastened on him, her senses gone; it seemed as though the next instant she must fall. Not so however; for when he seized hold of her, she woke up, collected her thoughts and without further warning said quickly:

"Then we must send for my brother! He only can make her leave our boy alone." The words proceeding from that strange train of thought were like a suggestion to him. A thousand times he had thought the same, Colonel Baier's case had called forth the desire, and many had advised him to it; but until now he had been ashamed.

A few minutes later, he was on his way to Dr. Kent; who must be consulted first.

It was a sharp, clear night. By day the roads were in a state of thaw, but frozen again at night, so he had to be careful; it was not easy, pursued as he was by his thoughts. What became of the Bible's dogmas of the creation, the deluge, and all the rest--what was it all worth, when death was at the door? What then was number one, what number twenty?

None would wake up at Kent's house; he rang and rang without hearing any sound himself; the bell must have been removed. Then he began to knock, it sounded hollow and hard, and to him it seemed as though death were knocking; it was so, too. At last a servant appeared rather grumbling, but as it was the minister she went to rouse the doctor. Patient Dr. Kent came down, brought him into his room and listened to him. He would with pleasure go to Kallem; had he thought they would have allowed it, he would have done it long since.

When Tuft got back Josephine was up-stairs with the child; she misunderstood him, she thought her brother was coming at once, and as he had not appeared by seven o'clock, by eight, by nine, she was afraid he would not come and became much agitated; her husband was obliged to go again to fetch her brother and the doctor. Kent was not to be found at once; but sent to say that Kallem and he would come at eleven o'clock precisely. They came, too, at that hour; but the minister had been called away, so there was no one to receive them, Kallem had not put his foot inside their door since the day he had arrived in the town. Since the preceding night Josephine had not had her brother out of her thoughts, which is always the case when one longs for anyone; but when at last Kent and he came up the thickly-carpeted stairs she was not thinking of him; she stood bending over the boy giving him a drink; when their knock came at the door she started up and could not utter a sound. The door opened nevertheless. Kent let Kallem go in first.

He was met by a slight scream. She nearly dropped what she was holding; for what did he look like! It was death himself who came, bony and mowing all around with sharp scythe. It was not to help her, but to take the boy from her; she felt it directly.

Shortly and mercilessly he looked at her, without a spark of compassion, although she too was worn with grief. As he advanced further in he looked at the boy, and from that moment she ceased to exist for him, she slipped on one side. Kent went up and greeted her kindly, then went back to Kallem. And now the usual thing happened--the same that had happened to Kallem himself when he was together with Dr. Meek--namely, Dr. Kent accepted all Kallem's impressions, the child's appearance seemed new to him and frightened him considerably. All that he had formerly put away from him, showed itself of its own accord--"Empyème?" he whispered in French to Kallem who did not answer, but drew nearer, felt the boy's faint, weak pulse, tapped him lightly here and there, listened to the quick short breathing, looked at the temperature list and at what he had last coughed up. Then followed a short consultation between the doctors; Josephine heard every scrap of it, although she stood a little way from them, on the other side of the bed--the child's bed now stood where his father's used to stand; but she did not understand the technical terms, therefore could not seize the meaning. She felt that some evil was hanging over her; her hands were pressed together on her bosom while her eyes wandered from one to the other. At last Kent approached a few steps; he wished to ask if they might be allowed to insert the point of a syringe, fine as a needle, in the cavity of the chest.

"Is it an operation?" she whispered as she sought support.