bewitched procession, in which one could not recognise a single face;
for there was not a face to be seen, nothing but huddled-up heaps of
wool or fur. A laugh broke out among the specially large crowd
gathered at the church on account of the great wedding. At first it
was stifled, but it grew louder with each carriage that drove up. At
the large house where the procession was to alight and the dresses
were to be arranged a little for going into church, a hay-cart had
been drawn out of the way, into the corner formed by the porch.
Mounted on it stood a pedlar, a joking fellow, Aslak by name. Just as
the bride was lifted down he called: "Devil take me if Ole Haugen's
Bridal March is any good to-day!"

He said no more, but that was plenty. The crowd laughed, and though
many of them tried not to let it be seen that they were laughing, it
was clearly felt what all were thinking and trying to hide.

When they took off the bride's shawls they saw that she was as white
as a sheet. She began to cry, tried to laugh, cried again--and then
all at once the feeling came over her that she could not go into the
church. Amidst great excitement she was laid on a bed in a quiet room,
for such a violent fit of crying had seized her that they were much
alarmed. Her good parents stood beside the bed, and when she begged
them to let her go back, they said that she might do just as she
liked. Then her eyes fell on Endrid. Any one so utterly miserable and
helpless she had never seen before; and beside him stood his mother,
silent and motionless, with the tears running down her face and her
eyes fixed on Randi's. Then Randi raised herself on her elbow and
looked straight in front of her for a little, still sobbing after the
fit of crying. "No, no,!" she said, "I'm going to church." Once more
she lay back and cried for a little, and then she got up. She said