In God's Way: A Novel

by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

"Edward Kallem? And has he got the book?" asked the other, hurriedly.

"Of course he has."

"No, really? So Edward Kallem has----!"

"Edward Kallem? What about him?" put in a third, and the one who had just heard the news repeated the story. A fourth boy, a fifth, a sixth, all rushed away, crying out: "Edward Kallem has won the prize, lads! Anders Hegge knows what Ole Tuft does in the evenings." Wherever they went the noise stopped instantaneously; all of them wanted to hear the news, and rushed across to Anders Hegge.

Hardly had a fourth part of them reached him before the remaining three-fourths, losing interest in their games, followed suit. What in all the world was the matter over by the wood-stack? why were they all running there? They crowded round Anders, and climbed up on the wood as many of them as could find room. "What's the matter?" "Edward Kallem has won the prize." "Edward Kallem?" And the noise began again, everyone asking, everyone answering--all except Ole Tuft, who remained standing just where his companion had left him.

There was a dead silence as Anders Hegge told the story; and he had a right to tell it, for he had paid for it. He told it well, in a short, dry sort of way that gave an air of double meaning to everything; he told them first where Ole went to and what he did; how he changed the straw in Martha's bed, moved and lifted her, cooked for her, and fetched medicine for her from the apothecary. Then he told them why Ole did all this; he wished to be a missionary, and was practising for it down at Martha's; he read the Bible to her and made her cry; then, as soon as Ole had gone, Lars, the washerman, came in with the brandy bottle, and he and Martha had a grand carouse together on the top of the Bible reading.

At first the boys stood as quiet as mice; they had never heard the like before. They looked upon it as a sort of game, and from the way it had been told it could hardly be understood otherwise; but never before had they heard of anyone playing at being missionary and Bible-reader; it was funny, but it was something else besides--something they could not quite make out. As nobody laughed, Anders continued. And what made Ole do all this? Because he was ambitious and wanted to become an apostle, which was more than to be either king, emperor, or pope; Ole had told Edward Kallem that himself. But, in order to become an apostle, he had to find out "God's ways," and those ways began down at Martha's; there he meant to learn how to work miracles, to wrestle with the heathen and the wild beasts and poisonous snakes, and to calm a cyclone. Then there was a roar. But just at that moment the school-bell rang, and, shouting with laughter, the boys had only time to run past Ole back to their lessons again.

Once before in his young life had Ole Tuft gazed down into a bottomless abyss. It was on a winter's day, as he stood by his father's grave and heard the dull sound of the frozen earth falling upon the coffin; the air was thick with driving mist, and the sea was black as pitch. Whenever he was in trouble his thoughts flew back to that day; and now it seemed as if he were standing there again, and heard the mournful church bells toll. Just as the noise on the stairs and along the passages had ceased, the last stray loiterer gone in, the last door been shut--complete quiet suddenly--then, through this empty silence, he heard a bell, ding-dong, and in fancy saw himself at the little pine-wood church by the shore. How they creaked and rustled in the wind, those long-armed, leafless birches by the wall, and the ancient fir-tree at the gate; the clanging of the bells, harsh and shrill, floating in the air, and the dull thud of the earth on the coffin, made a life-long impression on him; and his mother's ceaseless weeping--she had kept it all back until now, had made no sound, neither by the sick man's bedside, nor even when he was carried away in his coffin; but now, suddenly, the tears gushed forth--ah, so bitterly.... O father, mother! Mother, father! And he, too, burst into tears.

This was sufficient reason for his not following the other boys in; he would never go back to school again. He could not face any of them after what had happened, he would have to leave the town; in a couple of hours it would be known everywhere, they would all be asking questions, and staring and laughing at him. And now, too, all his hopes and intentions for the future had been profaned; what was the use of studying any more; nor would he go to any other town, only home, home, home.

But if he stood there much longer one of them would be sent down to fetch him; he ought to get away at once. But not home to his aunt, or he would have to tell her everything; and not out by the big gates and down the principal street, for there were so many people who would see how he was crying. No, he must make his way to the little hiding-place that Josephine had made for him, and through which she helped him out every afternoon, so that the other boys might not see him.