Full resolution (TIFF) - On this page / på denna sida - Chapter I. The hero.
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this was his joy, and without being able fo explain the reason,
his breast always heaved higher. Amid the warring of the
elements, he felt as though nothing was wanting but wings to
elevate himself like the wild eagle into the wide air.
"Dear father, if you wish to confer a favor on me, let me
drive," said Ivar, entreatingly.
"Let him have his way; he is a clever boy," said Mother
Ingierd, stepping between them. "He is also right, when he
wishes you to spare your swollen foot, which needs the bed far
more than it does the cart."
"Well, he may go, then," replied his father, laying aside his
pipe, and went into the stable, while Ivar was dressing himself.
Now his mother brought the warm woollen stockings and the
stout boots, took the overcoat from the wall, and when Ivar, who
had stood near the hearth, had washed himself, and in all haste
had put on his Sunday jacket, to protect himself from the storm,
this jacket being only used for the sskjut-drive and for the church,
his mother tied a large woollen comforter round his neck, and
urgently exorted him to drive carefully, that the white pony
might not catch the cough again.
"There, one can hear easily that you have never driven a
courier, Mother Ingierd," replied the wagon-master, with
importance; "such people, you may depend upon if, care not a
straw for the cough of a horse. They keep on, slashing and
cursing the poor animal, that they may go as fast as possible.
Yes, yes, it is as I tell you. By my soul I have often seen it,
and the white pony, poor creature, will soon perceive that this
is altogether another commission than to trudge slowly before
the cart when you drive to church, Mother Ingierd."
"I am not aware, Swen, that you ever saw me drive to church;
I walk there every Sunday," replied Mother Ingierd, with a
slight sigh.
"Certainly, I believe it; but when you had house and land I
have seea it. And at that time no body could have blamed you
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