“I am to go and see the bishop!” cried Frolich, clapping her hands, and whirling round on one foot, like an opera-dancer.
“Not so, Frolich.”
“There, now! You promise me good news, and then you won’t let me go and see the bishop, when you know that is the only thing in the world I want or wish for.”
“Would it not be a great compliment to you, and save you a great deal of trouble, if the bishop were to come here to see you?”
“Ah! that would be a pretty sight! The Bishop of Tronyem over the ankles in the sodden, trodden pasture—sticking in the mud of Sulitelma! The Bishop of Tronyem sleeping upon hay in the loft, and eating his dinner off a wooden platter! That would be the most wonderful sight that Norland ever saw.”
“Prepare, then, to see the Bishop of Tronyem drink his morning coffee out of a wooden bowl. Meantime, I must go and grind his coffee.—Seriously, Frolich, you must make haste to dress and help. The pirates want to carry off the bishop for ransom. Erlingsen is raising the country. Hund is coming here as a prisoner; and the bishop, and my mistress, and Orga to be safe; and if you do not help me, I shall have nothing ready, for Stiorna does not like the news.”
Never had Frolich dressed more quickly. She thought it very hard that the bishop should see her when she had nothing but her dairy dress to wear; but she was ready all the sooner for this. Erica consoled her with the belief that the bishop was the last person who could be supposed to make a point of a silk gown for a mountain maiden.
A consultation about the arrangements was held before the door by the four who were all in a good humour; for Stiorna remained aloof. This, like other mountain dwellings, was a mere sleeping and eating shed, only calculated for a bare shelter at night, at meals, and from occasional rain. There was no apartment at the seater in which the bishop could hold an audience, out of the way of the cooking and other household transactions. It could not be expected of him to sit on the bench outside, or on the grass, like the people of the establishment; for, unaccustomed as he was to spend his days in the open air, his eyes would be blinded and his face blistered by the sun. The young people cast their eyes on the pine-wood as the fittest summer parlour for him, if it could be provided with seats.
Erica sprang forward to prevent any one from entering the wood till she should have seen what state the place was in on this particular morning. No trees had been felled, and no branches cut since the night before, and the axes remained where they had been hung. The demon had not wanted them, it seemed, and there was no fear of intruding upon him now. So the two young men set to work to raise a semicircular range of turf seats in the pleasantest part of the shady grove. The central seat, which was raised above the rest, and had a footstool, was well cushioned with dry and soft moss, and the rough bark was cut from the trunk of the tree against which it was built; so that the stem served as a comfortable back to the chair. Rolf tried the seat when finished; and as he leaned back, feasting his eyes on the vast sunny landscape which was to be seen between the trees of the grove, he declared that it was infinitely better to sit here than in the bishop’s stall in Tronyem cathedral.
“Surely,” said Erica, whom he had summoned to see the work, “when God plants a lofty mountain overlooking the glorious sea, with the heavens themselves for a roof, He makes a temple with which no church built by men can compare. I suppose men build cathedrals in cities because they are not so happy as to have a mountain to worship on.”