Petra's first impression of the town, was entirely ruled by the power of the elements. She could not divest herself of the feeling that the mountains stood so close over her, that she must take care. She felt burdened every time she looked up to them, and then again, an inclination prompted her to stretch out her hand and knock at them; sometimes she felt as though there were no outlet at all. There stood the mountains, sunless and dark, the clouds hung close over them, or were chased hurriedly away; wind and rain vied incessantly with each other. But on the people around her was no burden resting, she was soon happy among them; for there was in their busy activity a freedom, ease and gaiety, which, after what she had passed through, she felt to be as smiles and welcome.
When the next day she remarked at the dinner table, that she liked to be where there were a number of people, they told her that she should go to the theatre, for there she would meet with many hundreds in one house. Yes, she would like that; the ticket was taken, the theatre was near at hand, and at the appointed time, she was taken there, and shewn to a seat in the first tier of the gallery. There she sat among many hundred happy people, in a dazzling light, surrounded by brilliant colours, and conversation breaking in upon her from all corners, with the noise of ocean.
Petra had not the slightest idea of what she was about to see. She knew nothing but what Odegaard had told her, and what by chance she had heard from others. But of the theatre Odegaard had never spoken; the sailors had merely talked of one where there were wild animals and horse-riders, and to the lads it never occurred to talk about the play, even if those from the school knew a little about it; for the little town had no theatre of its own, not even a house that was called such; travelling menageries, rope-dancers, and harlequins used to exhibit either in booths, or in the open field. She was so ignorant, that she did not even ask any questions, but was sitting boldly expecting something wonderful, e.g. camels or apes. Taken up by this idea, by degrees she began to see animals in all the faces around her, horses, dogs, foxes, cats, mice, and so amused herself. Meanwhile the orchestra had assembled without her being aware of it. She jumped up in a fright, for a short sharp burst from trombones, drums, trumpets, and horns, opened the overture. She had never in her life heard more music at one time, than a couple of violins and perhaps a flute. This pealing grandeur turned her pale, it partook of the nature of a cold, dark, heavy sea, she sat in dread for the next lest it should be still worse, and yet she did not wish it to be over. By and bye softer harmonies arose, vistas that she had never even dreamt of, opened before her; melodies lulled her thither, life and merriment floated in the air, the whole march rose upwards as on wings, it went softly down, it gathered again powerfully, it parted quiveringly and sprightfully,--till a sombre gloom fell over all; it was as if it were whirled away in a crashing waterfall. Then arose a single tone like a bird on a wet branch by the deep; sadly and timidly it began, but the air above it, cleared as it sang, a gleam of sunshine came,--and again the long blue vista was filled with that wonderful wave and fluttering behind the rays of the sun; when this had lasted a moment, lo! it subsided in gentle peace; the exultant host withdrew further and further, nothing was to be seen but the rays of the sun oozing and fusing through the air,--over the whole of the endless plain, only sun, over all light and stillness,--and in this blessedness it died away. Involuntarily she arose, for she felt it was over. Oh marvel! there went the beautiful painted wall in front of her straight up through the roof! She was in a church, a church with pillars and arches, beautifully decorated; the organ was pealing, and people advancing towards her, in a strange garb, and they were talking,--yes, talking in church, and in a language she did not understand. What? They were talking also behind her: "Sit down!" they said, but there was nothing there to sit upon, and the two in church continued to stand too; as she looked at them, it came clearly to her mind, that the dress was the same as that she had seen in a picture of St. Olaf,--and there they were calling St. Olaf's name!--"Sit down!" sounded again from behind her; "sit down!" cried a great many voices,--"there is perhaps something behind as well," thought Petra, turning round. A sea of angry threatening faces met her gaze;--"there's something wrong here," she thought, and wanted to get away; but an old woman who sat next to her, pulled her gently by the dress: "Come, sit down, child," she whispered, "you know they behind cannot see!" She was in her place in a moment; for to be sure: that is the theatre, and we are looking on,--the theatre! she repeated the word, as if to recall herself. Then she was in the church again; notwithstanding all her endeavours, she could not understand the speaker; but when she fairly discovered that he was a young, handsome man, she began to understand a word now and then, and when she heard that he was in love, and love was his theme, she understood most of all. Then a third came in, who, for an instant, drew her attention away, for she knew from drawings that he must be a monk, and a monk she had a great desire to see. He trod so softly, was so quiet, yes, he must in truth be a godfearing man; he spoke slowly, distinctly, she followed every word. But the next minute, he turned and said exactly the opposite of what he had said before,--heavens! he's a scoundrel, he's a scoundrel! he has the look of it! And this young handsome man cannot see it! he might at all events hear it! "He is deceiving you!" she whispered, half aloud. "Hush!" said the old lady. No, the young man does not hear, he withdraws in good faith, they all go, and an old man comes in alone. How is this? When the old man speaks, it is just as if the young one was speaking, and yet it is the old man, ... oh! look there! look there! a shining procession of girls, all in white, two and two they pass silently through the church; she saw them long after they had gone by,--and a similar impression from her childhood hovered in her memory. One winter she had gone with her mother over the mountain; making their way in the new fallen snow, they had startled a covey of ptarmigans, that with one accord, flew up in front of them; they were white, the snow was white, the forest white,--long after, all her thoughts rose white before her, and now the same thing again. But one of these maidens robed in white, steps forth alone, with a wreath in her hand, and kneels, the old man has knelt also, and she talks to him, he has brought messages and a letter for her from foreign lands, he brings it out,--her face tells clearly, it is from one she loves, oh! how delightful, they all seem to love here! She opens it,--it is not a letter, it is full of music,--yes, see, yes, see! he himself is the letter, the old man is the young one, and he is the one she loves! They embrace, heavens, they kiss each other,--Petra felt she grew scarlet, and hid her face with her hands, while she watched further;--listen, he is telling her that they will soon get married; and she laughingly pulls his beard, and says he has grown a barbarian, and he says she has grown so lovely, and he gives her a ring, and promises her scarlet and velvet, gold slippers, and a golden belt; he merrily takes his leave, and goes to the king to arrange about their wedding. His betrothed looks after him, and her eye glistens, but turning round without him, all seems so empty!
There slides the wall down again. Over now? just as it began? Blushing, she turned to the old lady: "Is it over?"--"No, no, child, it is the first act. There are five such, yes indeed there are," she repeated with a sigh: "There are five such."--"About the same?" asked Petra. "What do you mean by that?"--"The same people come in again, and it all goes on further?" "Then you have never been at a comedy?"--"No."--"Well, in many places there is no theatre, it is so expensive." "But whatever is this?" asked Petra anxiously, staring as if she couldn't wait for a reply: "Who are these people?"--"A company that Director Naso has, a first class company; he is very clever."--"Does he invent it?--or what is it? Pray do tell me!"--"Dear child, do you really not know what a play is? Where are you from?" But when Petra thought of her native place, she thought also of her shame, her flight, she did not speak and dare not ask any more questions.
The second act came, and with it the king, then she really got to see a king too! She did not hear what he said, she did not see whom he talked to, she was observing the king's dress, the king's manners, the king's bearing; she was first recalled, when the young man came in again and now they all withdrew to bring in the bride! So she must wait once more.
Between the acts, the old lady bent over towards her: "Don't you think they play beautifully?" she said. Petra looked up astonished at her. "Play,--what do you mean?" She id not see that everybody round about was looking at her, and that the old woman had been deputed to ask her, nor did she hear that they sat and laughed at her. "But they don't speak like we do?" she asked, as she did not get any reply. "They are Danes of course," said the lady and began to laugh herself. Then Petra understood that the good woman was laughing at her many questions, and was silent; she looked stedfastly at the curtain.
When it went up again, she had the great pleasure of seeing an archbishop. It was now the same as before; she was lost in the sight and did not hear a word of what he said. But then came music, oh so softly, so far away, but it was coming nearer; female voices were singing, and the play of flutes and violins, and an instrument, it was not a guitar, and yet like many guitars, but softer, fuller, loftier in its tone, the entire harmony poured in in long waves,--and as if all were a blending of colouring, came the procession, soldiers carrying halberds, choristers bearing censors, monks holding candles, the king wearing his crown, and the bridegroom arrayed in white, at his side,--then the white robed maidens strewing flowers and music before the bride, who was attired in white silk, and wore a red wreath: at her side walked a tall lady with a purple train adorned with gold crowns, and a little sparkling crown on her head, that must be the queen! The whole church was filled with their song and colours, and all that now happened, from the bridegroom leading the bride to the altar where they knelt, the whole company kneeling with them,--to the archbishop coming in pomp with his brethren, were only fresh links in the tinted music chain.
But just as the ceremony was about to take place, the Archbishop waved his staff, and forbade it; their marriage was against the holy scriptures, here on earth they could never be united,--oh heavens have mercy,--the bride sank down, and with a piercing cry, Petra, who had risen, also fell!
"Water, bring water!" cried those around her.
"No," replied the old lady, "there is no need, she has not fainted!" "No need," they repeated, "silence!"----"Silence!" they cried from the parquet, "silence in the gallery!"--"Silence!" answered those above.--"You must not take it so much to heart; it is only fiction and nonsense altogether," whispered the old lady; "but Madame Naso plays wonderfully."