Powerless to utter another word, he sat down; but in his effort to gain the mastery over the emotion he deemed Lars unworthy of seeing, he brought his fist down with violence on the table, while his eyes flashed beneath his stiff, disorderly hair, which always hung over them. Lars acted as if he had not been interrupted, and turning toward the others he asked if this was to be the decisive blow; for if such were the case there was no need for further remarks.
This calmness was more than Knud could endure.
“What is it that has come among us?” cried he. “We who have, until to-day, been actuated by love and zeal alone, are now stirred up against each other, as though goaded on by some evil spirit,” and he cast a fiery glance at Lars, who replied:
“It must be yourself who bring in this spirit, Knud; for I have kept strictly to the matter before us. But you never can see the advantage of anything you do not want yourself; now we shall learn what becomes of the love and the zeal when once this matter is decided as we wish.”
“Have I then illy served the interests of the parish?”
There was no reply. This grieved Knud, and he continued: “I really did persuade myself that I had accomplished various things—various things which have been of advantage to the parish; but perhaps I have deceived myself.”
He was again overcome by his feelings; for his was a fiery nature, ever variable in its moods, and the breach with Lars pained him so deeply that he could scarcely control himself. Lars answered:
“Yes, I know you appropriate the credit for all that is done here, and if one should judge by the amount of speaking at these meetings, you certainly have accomplished the most.”
“Is that the way of it?” shouted Knud, looking sharply at Lars. “Is it you who deserve the entire honor?”
“Since we must finally talk about ourselves,” said Lars, “I am free to admit that every question has been carefully considered by both of us before it was introduced here.”