“He is with them, however. When I left him, he was just stooping to enter one of their tents.”
“Now, you must be joking. The Lapps are low people enough in the open pasture: but in their tents, pah!”
He did not go in without a reason. There was a sick child in the tent, who could not come out to him. The mother wished him to see and pronounce upon the charms she was employing for her child’s benefit, and he himself chose to be satisfied whether any medical knowledge which he possessed could avail to restore the sick. Nothing was more certain than that the Bishop of Tronyem was in a Lapland tent. The fact was confirmed by M. Kollsen, who next appeared, musing as he rode, with a countenance of extreme gravity. He would fain have denied that his bishop was smiling upon Lapps who wore charms; but he could not. He muttered that it was very extraordinary.
“Quite as much so,” whispered Erica to Frolich, “as that the Holiest should be found in the house of a publican.”
“What is that?” inquired the vigilant M. Kollsen. “What was your remark?”
Erica blushed deeply; but Frolich readily declared what it was that she had said: and in return M. Kollsen remarked on the evil of ignorant persons applying Scripture according to their own narrow notions.
“Two—four—eight horses,” observed a herdsman. “I think the neighbours should each take one or two; or here will soon be an end of Erlingsen’s new hay. This lot of pasture will never feed eight horses, besides his own and the herd.”
“Better than having them carried off by the pirates,” said a neighbour. “But I will run home and send a load of grass.”
In such an amiable mood did the bishop find all who were awaiting him at his place of refuge. On their part, they were persuaded that he deserved all their love, even if he had some low notions about the Lapps.
As the bishop’s horse, followed by those which bore the ladies, reached the house-door, all present cried, “Welcome to the mountain!”