Arne; Early Tales and Sketches. Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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myself? Pooh! For that I am too cowardly. And then I believe in God, – yes, I believe in God. I long to go to Him; but cowardice keeps me from Him. From so great a change a cowardly person winces. But what if I tried as well as I am able? Almighty God! What if I tried? I might find a cure that even my milksop nature could bear; for I have no bone in me any longer, nor gristle; only something fluid, slush… What if I tried, with good, mild books, – I am afraid of the strong ones, – with pleasant stories and legends, all such as are mild; and then a sermon every Sunday and a prayer every evening, and regular work, that religion may find fruitful soil; it cannot do so amid slothfulness. What if I tried, dear, gentle God of my childhood, – what if I tried?"
But some one opened the barn-door, and hurried across the floor, pale as death, although drops of sweat rolled down the face. It was Arne's mother. It was the second day she had been seeking for her son. She called his name but did not pause to listen; only called and rushed about, till he answered from the hay-mow, where he was lying. She gave a loud shriek, sprang to the mow more lightly than a boy, and threw herself upon him.
"Arne, Arne, are you here? So I have really found you. I have been looking for you since yesterday; I have searched the whole night! Poor, poor Arne! I saw they had wounded you. I wanted so much to talk with you and comfort you; but then I never dare talk with you! Arne, I saw you drink! O God Almighty! let me never see it again!"
It was long before she could say more. "Jesus have mercy on you, my child; I saw you drink! Suddenly you were gone, drunk and crushed with grief as you were, and I ran around to all the houses. I went far out in the field; I did not find you. I searched in every copse; I asked every one. I was here, too, but you did not answer me – Arne, Arne! I walked along the river; but it did not seem to be deep enough anywhere" – She pressed up close to him. "Then it came with such relief to my mind that you might have gone home, and I am sure I was not more than a quarter of an hour getting over the road. I opened the door and looked in every room, and then first remembered that I myself had the key; you could not possibly have entered. Arne, last night I searched along the road on both sides; I dared not go to the Kamp gorge. I know not how I came here; no one helped me; but the Lord put it into my heart that you must be here!"
He tried to soothe her.
"Arne, indeed, you must never drink brandy again."
"No, you may be sure of that."
"They must have been very rough with you. Were they rough with you?"
"Oh, no; it was I who was cowardly." He laid stress on the word.
"I cannot exactly understand why they should be rough with you. What was it they did to you? You will never tell me anything," and she began to weep again.
"You never tell me anything, either," said Arne, gently.
"But you are most to blame, Arne. I got so into the habit of being silent in your father's day that you ought to have helped me a little on the way! My God! there are only two of us, and we have suffered so much together!"
"Let us see if we cannot do better," whispered Arne. "Next Sunday I will read the sermon to you."
"God bless you for that! Arne?"
"Yes?"
"I have something I ought to say to you."
"Say it, mother."
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