desire to go in again, it was all one to him. He was not capable of
considering what had happened; he did not want to think of it; neither
did he wish to think of the future, for there was nothing to which he
looked forward.

"But what, then, is it I am thinking of?" he queried, half aloud, and
when he had heard his own voice, he thought: "You can still speak, can
you laugh?" And then he tried it; yes, he could laugh, and so he
laughed loud, still louder, and then it occurred to him that it was
very amusing to be sitting laughing here all by himself, and he laughed
again. But Hans, the comrade who had been sitting beside him, came out
after him.

"Good gracious, what are you laughing at?" he asked, pausing in front
of the porch. At this Oyvind was silent.

Hans remained standing, as if waiting to see what further might happen.
Oyvind got up, looked cautiously about him and said in a low tone,--

"Now Hans, I will tell you why I have been so happy before: it was
because I did not really love any one; from the day we love some one,
we cease to be happy," and he burst into tears.

"Oyvind!" a voice whispered out in the court; "Oyvind!" He paused and
listened. "Oyvind," was repeated once more, a little louder. "It must
be she," he thought.

"Yes," he answered, also in a whisper; and hastily wiping his eyes he
came forward.