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Updated: May 5, 2025
The pair of bays in the Loreng carriage stood tossing their heads and twitching and stamping as the flies tormented them; but at last they got their passengers and were given their heads, setting off with a wild bound or two that scattered those who had pressed too near.
The black, long-maned Gudbrandsdaler lifts his head and trots out. And the evening comes, and under the wide and starry sky they dash up again to Loreng Loreng that lies there lighting them home with its long rows of glowing windows. A glorious day, wife!
He was fast bound to it. When he looked up at the window, there seemed to be faces at each pane staring in. "What? Not finished yet?" they seemed to say. "Think what it means if you fail!" Merle's face, and the children's: "Must we be driven from Loreng, out into the cold?" The faces of old Uthoug and his wife: "Was it for this you came into an honourable family? To bring it to ruin?"
There was something wanting something missed that now had to be made good. It was not knowledge now, but life life in his native land, the life of youth, that he reached out to grasp. The youth in him, that had never had free play in the years of early manhood, lay still dammed up, and had to find an outlet. There were festive gatherings at Loreng.
Here a young lawyer newly married and something of a privileged buffoon was sitting on the lap of somebody else's wife, playing a concertina, and singing at the top of his voice. "Some of that Loreng man's doings again," people would say. "The place has never been the same since he came here." And they would get back to bed again, shaking their heads and wondering what things were coming to.
Some way behind them a cart followed, driven by one of the stable-boys from Loreng, and loaded with big brass-bound leather trunks and a huge chest, apparently of wood, but evidently containing something frightfully heavy. Merle had finished dressing, and stood looking at herself in the glass.
There had been a time not long ago when Merle and he had loaded up a sledge at the Loreng storehouse and driven off with Christmas gifts to all the poor folk round. It was part of the season's fun for them. And now now they must even be glad to receive presents themselves. "Merle have WE nothing we can give away this year?" "I don't know. What do you think?"
But the auction at Loreng went on for several days. Once more a deep valley, with sun-steeped farms on the hillsides between the river and the mountain-range behind. One day about midsummer it was old Raastad himself that came down to meet the train, driving a spring-cart, with a waggon following behind. Was he expecting visitors? the people at the station asked him.
"She is not right in her head." And he hurried to his carriole and drove off home. "Old Rode will be pleased, anyhow," he thought. "He'll be his own master in the workshop now the dream of his life. Well, everyone for himself. And the bailiff will have things all his own way at Loreng for a year or two. Well, well! Come up, Brownie!" "Peer, you're surely not going away just now?
And they are sleepless not so much from anxiety for this time things go well as because of dreams. And both of them dream. They have bought back Loreng, and they wander about through the great light rooms once more, and all is peace and happiness. All the evil days before are as a nightmare that is past.
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