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Updated: May 23, 2025
"Then it is to Hulda Hanson that you must apply, if you wish to purchase it." "So be it, Master Formality," retorted Sandgoist. "I now ask Hulda to sell me this ticket Number 9672 that Ole Kamp bequeathed to her." "Monsieur Sandgoist," the young girl answered in firm but quiet tones, "I have received a great many offers for this ticket, but they have been made in vain.
"Ole! my poor Ole!" sighed Hulda, and hearing this pathetic exclamation, Joel led her gently away from the wharves, and up into the city proper. There, from the crowds that filled the streets and the public squares, they overheard more than one remark in relation to themselves. "Yes," said one man; "I hear that ten thousand marks have been offered for ticket 9672."
The whole picture was upon an enlarged representation of a lottery ticket bearing the number 9672 in bold relief. An unpretending conception, unquestionably, but one that could hardly fail to be regarded as a masterpiece in the land which still clings to legends of the Undines and Valkyries. Then the story was republished and commented upon in France and England, and even in the United States.
Ole Kamp's ticket bore the number 9672; but whether this number proved lucky or unlucky, whether the young sailor had any secret reason for his confidence in it or not, he would not be present at the drawing, which was to take place on the fifteenth of July, that is to say, in twenty-eight days; but it was his last request that Hulda should take his place on that occasion.
And when Sylvius Hogg, professor of law, and; a member of the Storthing, felt in this way, one can hardly wonder at the infatuation of the public, nor that No. 9672 could be sold at an enormous premium. So in Dame Hansen's household there was no one who protested against the young girl's decision at least no one except the mother.
The chances were evidently increasing for all numbers between one and nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine, and every one recollected that Ole Kamp's ticket bore the number 9672. Strange to say, Sylvius Hogg began to move restlessly about in his chair, as if he had suddenly been stricken with palsy.
"Number 9672 wins the prize of one hundred thousand marks!" repeated the director. "Who claims it?" "I do." Was it the usurer of Drammen who answered thus? No. It was a young man a young man with a pale face, whose features and whole person bore marks of prolonged suffering, but alive, really and truly alive.
Perhaps it will be considered rather astonishing that Ticket No. 9672, which had attracted so much attention from the public, should have happened to be the one that drew the grand prize. Yes, it was astonishing, we must admit; but it was not impossible, and at all events, such was the fact. Sylvius Hogg, Joel, and Hulda left Christiania that same evening.
The ticket seemed to have lost its supernatural value since it had been defiled by Sandgoist's touch, so that worthy had made but a bad bargain, after all, and the famous ticket, No. 9672, appeared likely to be left on his hands.
It was a lottery ticket bearing the number 9672. On the other side of the ticket were the following lines: "May 3d. "DEAREST HULDA, The 'Viking' is going down. I have only this ticket left of all I hoped to bring back to you. I intrust it to God's hands, hoping that it may reach you safely; and as I shall not be there, I beseech you to be present at the drawing.
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