Arne had of late been happier, both when at home and when out among people. In the winter, when he had not work enough on his own place, he went out in the parish and did carpentry; but every Saturday night he came home to the mother; and went with her to church on Sunday, or read the sermon to her; and then returned in the evening to his place of work. But soon, through going more among people, his wish to travel awoke within him again; and just after his merriest moods, he would often lie trying to finish his song, "Over the mountains high," and altering it for about the twentieth time. He often thought of Christian, who seemed to have so utterly forgotten him, and who, in spite of his promise, had not sent him even a single letter. Once, the remembrance of Christian came upon him so powerfully that he thoughtlessly spoke of him to the mother; she gave no answer, but turned away and went out.

There was living in the parish a jolly man named Ejnar Aasen. When he was twenty years old he broke his leg, and from that time he had walked with the support of a stick; but wherever he appeared limping along on that stick, there was always merriment going on. The man was rich, and he used the greater part of his wealth in doing good; but he did it all so quietly that few people knew anything about it. There was a large nut-wood on his property; and on one of the brightest mornings in harvest-time, he always had a nutting-party of merry girls at his house, where he had abundance of good cheer for them all day, and a dance in the evening. He was the godfather of most of the girls; for he was the godfather of half of the parish. All the children called him Godfather, and from them everybody else had learned to call him so, too.

He and Arne knew each other well; and he liked Arne for the sake of his songs. Now he invited him to the nutting-party; but Arne declined: he was not used to girls' company, he said. "Then you had better get used to it," answered Godfather.

So Arne came to the party, and was nearly the only young man among the many girls. Such fun as was there, Arne had never seen before in all his life; and one thing which especially astonished him was, that the girls laughed for nothing at all: if three laughed, then five would laugh just because those three laughed. Altogether, they behaved as if they had lived with each other all their lives; and yet there were several of them who had never met before that very day. When they caught the bough which they jumped after, they laughed, and when they did not catch it they laughed also; when they did not find any nuts, they laughed because they found none; and when they did find some, they also laughed. They fought for the nutting-hook: those who got it laughed, and those who did not get it laughed also. Godfather limped after them, trying to beat them with his stick, and making all the mischief he was good for; those he hit, laughed because he hit them, and those he missed, laughed because he missed them. But the whole lot laughed at Arne because he was so grave; and when at last he could not help laughing, they all laughed again because he laughed.

Then the whole party seated themselves on a large hill; the girls in a circle, and Godfather in the middle. The sun was scorching hot, but they did not care the least for it, but sat cracking nuts, giving Godfather the kernels, and throwing the shells and husks at each other. Godfather 'sh 'shed at them, and, as far as he could reach, beat them with his stick; for he wanted to make them be quiet and tell tales. But to stop their noise seemed just about as easy as to stop a carriage running down a hill. Godfather began to tell a tale, however. At first many of them would not listen; they knew his stories already; but soon they all listened attentively; and before they thought of it, they set off tale-telling themselves at full gallop. Though they had just been so noisy, their tales, to Arne's great surprise, were very earnest: they ran principally upon love.

"You, Aasa, know a good tale, I remember from last year," said Godfather, turning to a plump girl with a round, good-natured face, who sat plaiting the hair of a younger sister, whose head lay in her lap. "But perhaps several know it already," answered Aasa.

"Never mind, tell it," they begged.

"Very well, I'll tell it without any more persuading," she answered; and then, plaiting her sister's hair all the while, she told and sang:—

"There was once a grown-up lad who tended cattle, and who often drove them upwards near a broad stream. On one side was a high steep cliff, jutting out so far over the stream that when he was upon it he could talk to any one on the opposite side; and all day he could see a girl over there tending cattle, but he couldn't go to her.

he asked over and over for many days, till one day at last there came an answer:—

"This left the lad no wiser than he was before; and he thought he wouldn't mind her any further. This, however, was much more easily thought than done, for drive his cattle whichever way he would, it always, somehow or other, led to that same high steep cliff. Then the lad grew frightened; and he called over to her—

"The lad asked this because he half believed she was a huldre.[3]

"This again left the lad no wiser than he was before. In the daytime he kept hovering about the cliff; and at night he dreamed she danced with him, and lashed him with a big cow's tail whenever he tried to catch her. Soon he could neither sleep nor work; and altogether the lad got in a very poor way. Then once more he called from the cliff—

"But there came no answer; and so he was sure she was a huldre. He gave up tending cattle; but it was all the same; wherever he went, and whatever he did, he was all the while thinking of the beautiful huldre who blew on the horn. Soon he could bear it no longer; and one moonlight evening when all were asleep, he stole away into the forest, which stood there all dark at the bottom, but with its tree-tops bright in the moonbeams. He sat down on the cliff, and called—

"The lad looked and looked; but she didn't appear. Then he heard something moving behind him; he turned round and saw a big black bear, which came forward, squatted on the ground and looked at him. But he ran away from the cliff and through the forest as fast as his legs could carry him: if the bear followed him, he didn't know, for he didn't turn round till he lay safely in bed.

"'It was one of her herd,' the lad thought; 'it isn't worth while to go there any more;' and he didn't go.

"Then, one day, while he was chopping wood, a girl came across the yard who was the living picture of the huldre: but when she drew nearer, he saw it wasn't she. Over this he pondered much. Then he saw the girl coming back, and again while she was at a distance she seemed to be the huldre, and he ran to meet her; but as soon as he came near, he saw it wasn't she. "After this, wherever the lad was—at church at dances, or any other parties—the girl was, too; and still when at a distance she seemed to be the huldre, and when near she was somebody else. Then he asked her whether she was the huldre or not, but she only laughed at him. 'One may as well leap into it as creep into it,' the lad thought; and so he married the girl.

"But the lad had hardly done this before he ceased to like the girl: when he was away from her he longed for her; but when he was with her he yearned for some one he did not see. So the lad behaved very badly to his wife; but she suffered in silence.

"Then one day when he was out looking for his horses, he came again to the cliff; and he sat down and called out—

"He felt that it did him good to sit there; and afterwards he went whenever things were wrong at home. His wife wept when he was gone.

"But one day when he was sitting there, he saw the huldre sitting all alive on the other side blowing her horn. He called over—

"Then she answered—

"But then the lad felt frightened and went home again. Ere long, however, he grew so tired of his wife that he was obliged to go to the forest again, and he sat down on the cliff. Then was sung over to him—

"The lad jumped up and looked around him, and caught a glimpse of a green petticoat just slipping away between the shrubs. He followed, and it came to a hunting all through the forest. So swift-footed as that huldre, no human creature could be: he flung steel over her again and again, but still she ran on just as well as ever. But soon the lad saw, by her pace, that she was beginning to grow tired, though he saw, too, by her shape, that she could be no other than the huldre. 'Now,' he thought, you'll be mine easily;' and he caught hold on her so suddenly and roughly that they both fell, and rolled down the hills a long way before they could stop themselves. Then the huldre laughed till it seemed to the lad the mountains sang again. He took her upon his knee; and so beautiful she was, that never in all his life he had seen any one like her: exactly like her, he thought his wife should have been. 'Ah, who are you who are so beautiful?' he asked, stroking her cheek. She blushed rosy red. 'I'm your wife,' she answered."

The girls laughed much at that tale, and ridiculed the lad. But Godfather asked Arne if he had listened well to it.

"Well, now I'll tell you something," said a little girl with a little round face, and a very little nose:—

"Once there was a little lad who wished very much to woo a little girl. They were both grown up; but yet they were very little. And the lad couldn't in any way muster courage to ask her to have him. He kept close to her when they came home from church; but, somehow or other, their chat was always about the weather. He went over to her at the dancing-parties, and nearly danced her to death; but still he couldn't bring himself to say what he wanted. 'You must learn to write,' he said to himself; 'then you'll manage matters.' And the lad set to writing; but he thought it could never be done well enough; and so he wrote a whole year round before he dared do his letter. Now, the thing was to get it given to her without anybody seeing. He waited till one day when they were standing all by themselves behind the church. 'I've got a letter for you,' said the lad. 'But I can't read writing,' the girl answered.

"And there the lad stood.

"Then he went to service at the girl's father's house; and he used to keep hovering round her all day long. Once he had nearly brought himself to speak; in fact, he had already opened his mouth; but then a big fly flew in it. 'Well, I hope, at any rate, nobody else will come to take her away,' the lad thought; but nobody came to take her, because she was so very little.

"By-and-by, however, some one did come, and he, too, was little. The lad could see very well what he wanted; and when he and the girl went up-stairs together, the lad placed himself at the key-hole. Then he who was inside made his offer. 'Bad luck to me, I, codfish, who didn't make haste!' the lad thought. He who was inside kissed the girl just on her lips——. 'No doubt that tasted nice,' the lad thought. But he who was inside took the girl on his lap. 'Oh, dear me! what a world this is!' the lad said, and began crying. Then the girl heard him and went to the door. 'What do you want, you nasty boy?' said she, 'why can't you leave me alone?'—'I? I only wanted to ask you to have me for your bridesman.'—'No; that, my brother's going to be,' the girl answered, banging the door to.

"And there the lad stood." The girls laughed very much at this tale, and afterwards pelted each other with husks.

Then Godfather wished Eli BÖen to tell something.

"What, then, must it be?"

"Well, she might tell what she had told him on the hill, the last time he came to see her parents, when she gave him the new garters. Eli laughed very much; and it was some time before she would tell it: however, she did at last,—

"A lad and a girl were once walking together on a road. 'Ah, look at that thrush that follows us!' the girl said. 'It follows me,' said the lad. 'It's just as likely to be me,' the girl answered. 'That, we'll soon find out,' said the lad; 'you go that way, while I go this, and we'll meet up yonder.' They did so. 'Well, didn't it follow me?' the lad asked, when they met. 'No; it followed me,' answered the girl. 'Then, there must be two.' They went together again for some distance, but then there was only one thrush; and the lad thought it flew on his side, but the girl thought it flew on hers. 'Devil a bit, I care for that thrush,' said the lad. 'Nor do I,' answered the girl.

"But no sooner had they said this, than the thrush flew away. 'It was on your side, it was,' said the lad. 'Thank you,' answered the girl; 'but I clearly saw it was on your side.—But see! there it comes again!' 'Indeed, it's on my side,' the lad exclaimed. Then the girl got angry: 'Ah, well, I wish I may never stir if I go with you any longer!' and she went away.

"Then the thrush, too, left the lad; and he felt so dull that he called out to the girl, 'Is the thrush with you?'—'No; isn't it with you?'—'Ah, no; you must come here again, and then perhaps it will follow you.'

"The girl came; and she and the lad walked on together, hand in hand. 'Quitt, quitt, quitt, quitt!' sounded on the girl's side; 'quitt, quitt, quitt, quitt!' sounded on the lad's side; 'quitt, quitt, quitt, quitt!' sounded on every side; and when they looked there were a hundred thousand million thrushes all round them. 'Ah, how nice this is!' said the girl, looking up at the lad. 'Ah, God bless you!' said he, and kissed her."

All the girls thought this was such a nice tale.

Then Godfather said they must tell what they had dreamed last night, and he would decide who had dreamed the nicest things.

"Tell what they had dreamed! No; impossible!"

And then there was no end of tittering and whispering. But soon one after another began to think she had such a nice dream last night; and then others thought it could not possibly be so nice as what they had dreamed; and at last they all got a great mind for telling their dreams. Yet they must not be told aloud, but to one only, and that one must by no means be Godfather. Arne had all this time been sitting quietly a little lower down the hill, and so the girls thought they dared tell their dreams to him.

Then Arne seated himself under a hazel-bush; and Aasa, the girl who had told the first tale, came over to him. She hesitated a while, but then began,—

"I dreamed I was standing by a large lake. Then I saw one walking on the water, and it was one whose name I will not say. He stepped into a large water-lily, and sat there singing. But I launched out upon one of the large leaves of the lily which lay floating on the water; for on it I would row over to him. But no sooner had I come upon the leaf than it began to sink with me, and I became much frightened, and I wept. Then he came rowing along in the water-lily, and lifted me up to him; and we rowed all over the whole lake. Wasn't that a nice dream?"

Next came the little girl who had told the tale about the little lad,—

"I dreamed I had caught a little bird, and I was so pleased with it, and I thought I wouldn't let it loose till I came home in our room. But there I dared not let it loose, for I was afraid father and mother might tell me to let it go again. So I took it up-stairs; but I could not let it loose there, either, for the cat was lurking about. Then I didn't know what in the world to do; yet I took it into the barn. Dear me, there were so many cracks, I was afraid it might go away! Well, then I went down again into the yard; and there, it seemed to me some one was standing whose name I will not say. He stood playing with a big, big dog. 'I would rather play with that bird of yours,' he said, and drew very near to me. But then it seemed to me I began running away; and both he and the big dog ran after me all round the yard; but then mother opened the front door, pulled me hastily in, and banged the door after me. The lad, however, stood laughing outside, with his face against the window-pane. 'Look, here's the bird,' he said; and, only think, he had my bird out there! Wasn't that a beautiful dream?"

Then came the girl who had told about the thrushes—Eli, they called her. She was laughing so much that she could not speak for some time; but at last she began,—

"I had been looking forward with very much pleasure to our nutting in the wood to-day; and so last night I dreamed I was sitting here on the hill. The sun shone brightly; and I had my lap full of nuts. But there came a little squirrel among them, and it sat on its hind-legs and ate them all up. Wasn't that a funny dream?" Afterwards some more dreams were told him; and then the girls would have him say which was the nicest. Of course, he must have plenty of time for consideration; and meanwhile Godfather and the whole flock went down to the house, leaving Arne to follow. They skipped down the hill, and when they came to the plain went all in a row singing towards the house.

Arne sat alone on the hill, listening to the singing. Strong sunlight fell on the group of girls, and their white bodices shone bright, as they went dancing over the meadows, every now and then clasping each other round the waist; while Godfather limped behind, threatening them with a stick because they trod down his hay. Arne thought no more of the dreams, and soon he no longer looked after the girls. His thoughts went floating far away beyond the valley, like the fine air-threads, while he remained behind on the hill, spinning; and before he was aware of it he had woven a close web of sadness. More than ever, he longed to go away.

"Why stay any longer?" he said to himself; "surely, I've been lingering long enough now!" He promised himself that he would speak to the mother about it as soon as he reached home, however it might turn out.

With greater force than ever, his thoughts turned to his song, "Over the mountains high;" and never before had the words come so swiftly, or linked themselves into rhyme so easily; they seemed almost like girls sitting in a circle on the brow of a hill. He had a piece of paper with him, and placing it upon his knee, he wrote down the verses as they came. When he had finished the song, he rose like one freed from a burden. He felt unwilling to see any one, and went homewards by the way through the wood, though he knew he should then have to walk during the night. The first time he stopped to rest on the way, he put his hand to his pocket to take out the song, intending to sing it aloud to himself through the wood; but he found he had left it behind at the place where it was composed.

One of the girls went on the hill to look for him; she did not find him, but she found his song.