Oyvind sat by the window, he had been upstairs and had answered
everything that had been asked him; but the priest had not said
anything, neither had the school-master. For more than half a year he
had been considering what they both would say when they came to know
how hard he had toiled, and he felt now deeply disappointed as well as
wounded. There sat Marit, who for far less exertion and knowledge had
received both encouragement and reward; it was just in order to stand
high in her eyes that he had striven, and now she smilingly won what he
had labored with so much self-denial to attain. Her laughter and
joking burned into his soul, the freedom with which she moved about
pained him. He had carefully avoided speaking with her since that
evening, it would take years, he thought; but the sight of her sitting
there so happy and superior, weighed him to the ground, and all his
proud determinations drooped like leaves after a rain.
He strove gradually to shake off his depression. Everything depended
on whether he became number one to-day, and for this he was waiting.
It was the school-master's wont to linger a little after the rest with
the priest to arrange about the order of the young people, and
afterwards to go down and report the result; it was, to be sure, not
the final decision, merely what the priest and he had for the present
agreed upon.
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