Emanuel, or Children of the Soil/Book 5, Chapter 1
Five days had passed since the bishop's visit, but still the long hoped-for rain had not come. But a dry easterly gale had risen, which swept the fields, already baked as hard as stone; and for two days the district was enveloped in grey dust. In Vielby a catastrophe was hourly expected. They had arrived at the very end of the winter fodder, and the peasants, with their usual disposition to exaggerate, already talked of tearing down the thatch to keep life in the cattle. They had long given up consulting the barometer, or interpreting as omens the crowing of the cocks at midday, or the swarming of midges in the evening. Every morning the sun broke through the misty veil of night, pierced every cloud and drove away each shred of mist from wood or bog.
Then one morning the edge of the sky in the south-west turned blood-red and then pale yellow, dark yellow, and lastly blue-black … a heavy thunder-cloud rose, a shapeless elephantine mass above the horizon. The people came out of their houses at the first subterranean rumbles. Even Jensen, the chairman of the Parish Council, who did not usually shew himself among the people, came out in his shirt sleeves, puffing at a cigar which was stuck into a wonderful carved amber mouthpiece. He observed the phenomenon of nature with indifferent superiority, his capital was disposed off in one of those safe concerns where there is neither ploughing nor reaping, and where you honestly make your four per cent, whether the Almighty sends rain or heat.
In spite of the sun, the lightning was plainly seen among the dark clouds which mounted higher and higher into the blue sky, while the sound of the thunder came nearer every minute. None the less, the Veilby peasants shook their heads. "That won't come to us; we'll get no good of it. "No, it'll go eastward.' "Skibberup'll get a splash." "Ay, like enough, they always get what they want."
Gradually a cloud came over the sun, and it seemed to shine through a red veil. Suddenly gusts of wind rushed over the hot fields; the cocks crowed, and the swallows skimmed hither and thither over the ponds in deadly fear. At last the thunder pealed just over the village, and the flashes of lightning followed each other quicker than could be counted. It could be heard to strike the earth round about. A sheep, which had broken loose from its tether, rushed into the village with a dead companion, tied by the leg, trailing after it in the dust. The sky was now one black cloud, and indoors it was so dark that one could hardly see the time. But not a drop of rain fell. There was a scorched, sulphurous smell everywhere, and as the air was not cooled by rain, it became so heated that every flash could be felt, almost burning the cheek. On the opposite shore of the Fiord a farm was seen to be in flames, and the piping of the fire-alarm could plainly be heard in the still air.
Just as the storm seemed to be blowing over, a few large, heavy drops of rain fell here and there, like stars on the dusty roads. The people began to come out of their houses, and were standing about on the steps, when heaven and earth were shaken by a clap of thunder so violent, that several persons were thrown down from the shock. Simultaneously the rain broke out. It rattled against the windows like peas, and splashed the dust up on to the walls.
It was still raining in torrents in the middle of the next day, and the sky was just as black and heavy.
Towards evening Emanuel was sitting in the prow of a boat, in the middle of the Fiord, rowed by the carpenter. He was only protected by a thin greatcoat and a horsecloth which he had thrown over his head. He was soaked to the skin, but he hardly noticed it ; he was much too full of all he had seen in the last few days.
He was returning from Sandinge, where he had gone the morning after the bishop's visit, with the High School director. By this means he avoided all questioning about the bishop, by which he had been overwhelmed in Skibberup, and which he was not at liberty to answer. Besides, for his own sake, he required a little quiet to consider the bishop's proposals. The carpenter had accompanied him as a sort of adjutant, and the journey had become a kind of triumphal march.
Emanuel now understood what made the eyes of the young people shine every time the High School at Sandinge was mentioned. He was so taken with all he saw, that at times he almost thought it must have been a beautiful dream. The handsome red brick buildings covered with ivy and honeysuckle like an old castle; the great lecture hall built like an old Norse hall, with a panelled wooden ceiling with carved heads to the beams. The eighty fresh-coloured, young peasant girls, who were the present pupils; the singular teaching, which was conducted by means of lectures, reading, conversation, and singing; to say nothing of the evening meetings, when the people flocked in after their work was done,—labourers in their shirt sleeves—artizans in their blouses—he was enchanted with everything from the very first day.
He also understood the affection of the people for the Director, now that he had seen him in his element—in his school, where he hobbled about with his stick from teachers to pupils, encouraging, cheering, and admonishing all like a father. When he first saw him in the pulpit, too, the marvellous power of the man over the minds of the young became plainer than ever; he was so full of youthful enthusiasm, with such deep faith, and so carried away by his feelings, that the tears came into his brown eyes while he stood with outstretched arms, as if in his love of mankind he would embrace the whole world.
The day after Emanuel's arrival there was a great meeting at the school, where he appeared as the principal speaker; and, by request, repeated his former discourse. On the following days he visited various circles of "Friends" in the neighbourhood, whither he was conducted by the director. He was everywhere received with delight, and made many new friends.
The visit also had a great influence on his decision for the future. He felt that the bishop was right, and that the little house he had thought of buying would not be at all the place in which to carry out such a scheme as was realized at Sandinge. He saw that large premises were required; many rooms, stables and coach-houses to accommodate visitors, and that Veilby Parsonage might have been built for just such a large, common parish home as he wished to establish.
So he made up his mind to follow the bishop's advice, and allow himself to be appointed to the living "ad interim," when the Provst left. But he began to feel anxious on this point. He thought the Provst would be quite capable of opposing the bishop, either out of spite or false pride.
He longed to talk to Hansine about the matter, and determined to break his promise of silence, with regard to her. His heart was so full of joy, and his head so full of plans, that he must have vent for them.
He had hoped to be in Skibberup before night fell, but at dusk they were only half way across the Fiord. The currents were against them, and though he and the carpenter took turns at the oars, they had great difficulty in driving the boat along. At last they each took an oar, and raising a lusty song, they both pulled with all their might, the rain pouring down in unceasing torrents all the time.
It was towards ten when they reached land, and so dark, that they could hardly find the narrow track between the hills which led from the little haven to Skibberup.
Emanuel took leave of his companion and hurried to the farm. A light was shining in the sitting-room, and no sooner did he set foot on the steps than the door flew open, and Hansine called out to him, "Do you know it?"
"What, dear?"
"The Provst is going away … it's in the paper to-day."
"Can it be true!"
A moment later, he stood in the room with the "People's News" of the district in his hand; and without noticing that the water from his soaking clothes was making a little sea round him on the floor, he read the following notice three times over:—
"According to reliable information, Provst Tönnesen, Rector of Veilby and Skibberup, has been appointed director of the newly-founded State Seminary at Söborg, near Copenhagen. The official announcement may be expected any day."