distinguished themselves from the happy ones; the latter left as soon
as they found company, in order to announce their good fortune to their
parents, or they waited for the sake of others who were not yet ready;
the former, on the contrary, grew more and more silent and their eyes
were fixed in suspense on the door.

At length the children were all through, the last had come down, and so
the school-master must now be talking with the priest. Oyvind glanced
at Marit; she was just as happy as before, but she remained in her
seat, whether waiting for her own pleasure or for some one else, he
knew not. How pretty Marit had become! He had never seen so
dazzlingly lovely a complexion; her nose was slightly turned up, and a
dainty smile played about the mouth. She kept her eyes partially
closed when not looking directly at any one, but for that reason her
gaze always had unsuspected power when it did come; and, as though she
wished herself to add that she meant nothing by this, she half smiled
at the same moment. Her hair was rather dark than light, but it was
wavy and crept far over the brow on either side, so that, together with
the half closed eyes, it gave the face a hidden expression that one
could never weary of studying. It never seemed quite sure whom it was
she was looking for when she was sitting alone and among others, nor
what she really had in mind when she turned to speak to any one, for
she took back immediately, as it were, what she gave. "Under all this
Jon Hatlen is hidden, I suppose," thought Oyvind, but still stared
constantly at her.

Now came the school-master. All left their places and stormed about
him.

"What number am I?"--"And I?"--"And I--I?"