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Fris had so often talked of resigning his post, but now he did not even think of that. He shuffled to and from school at the regular times, probably without even knowing he did it. The authorities really had not the heart to dismiss him.
Where they came from it was difficult to say; but every one of them hit Fris and made him cower. False steps made in his youth on the other side of the water fifty years ago, were brought up again here on the lips of these ignorant children, as well as some of his best actions, that had been so unselfish that the district put the very worst interpretation upon them.
Fris did not hear it; he heard only the mighty tramp of advancing hosts. "And let the prince of ill Look grim as e'er he will," Suddenly, at a preconcerted signal, the whole school stopped singing. Fris was brought to earth again with a shock. He opened his eyes, and saw that he had once more allowed himself to be taken by surprise. "You little devils!
"Your son hasn't had any punishment, Ole, and neither has he deserved any," said Fris, putting his arm about the old man's shoulder. "But he's given a great gift as he lies there and cannot say anything. He gave five men their lives and gave up his own in return for the one offense that he committed in thoughtlessness! It was a generous son you had, Ole!" Fris looked at him with a bright smile.
Fris nodded with them, and a long tuft of hair flapped in his face; he fell into an ecstasy, and could not sit still upon his chair. "And were this world all devils o'er, And watching to devour us, We lay it not to heart so sore; Not they can overpower us." It sounded like a stamping-mill; some were beating their slates upon the tables, and others thumping with their elbows.
And now I've got no son, Fris! I'm childless now! And I'm not able to do anything!" "You shall have enough to live upon, Ole," said Fris. "Without coming on the parish? I shouldn't like to come upon the parish." "Yes, without coming on the parish, Ole." "If only he can get peace now! He had so little peace in this world these last few years.
Another time Fris came back after an unusually long playtime in low spirits. He kept on blowing his nose hard, and now and then dried his eyes behind his spectacles. The boys nudged one another. He cleared his throat loudly, but could not make himself heard, and then beat a few strokes on his desk with the cane. "Have you heard, children?" he asked, when they had become more or less quiet. "No!
The children smiled at one another, remembering various things. Peter Funck had once gone so far as to wrestle with the master himself, but they had not the heart to bring this up. One of the bigger boys, however, said, half for the purpose of teasing: "He never got any farther than the twenty-seventh hymn!" "Didn't he, indeed?" snarled Fris. "Didn't he, indeed?
The men now went home to the village with the shipwrecked sailors; the vessel looked as if it would still keep out the water for some time. Just as the school-children were starting to go home, Ole came staggering along with his son's dead body on his back. He walked with loose knees bending low and moaning under his burden. Fris stopped him and helped him to lay the dead body in the schoolroom.
"You can get out your slates and arithmetics." "Oh, we're going to do sums, oh, that's fun!" The whole class was rejoicing audibly as they got out their things. Fris did not share the children's delight over arithmetic; his gifts, he was accustomed to say, were of a purely historical nature.
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