VII


Next day I arrived at the deserted hut, drenched to the skin, struck by
lightning, but in a strangely gentle and yielding mood, as after a
punishment. My good fortune in the midst of my ill-luck made me
overfriendly to everything; I tramped on without hurting the ground, and I
avoided sinful thoughts, though it was spring. I was not even out of
temper when I had to retrace my steps across the fjeld to find my way
again to the hut. I had time; there was no hurry. I was the first tourist
of the spring season, and far too early.

So I remained at my ease in the hut for a few days. Sometimes at night
verses and small poems blossomed in my mind as though I had become a real
poet. At any rate there were signs that great changes had taken place
within me since the winter, when I had desired nothing but to lie blinking
my eyes and be left in peace.

One day when everything was thawing in the sun, I left the hut and walked
about the mountains for some hours. I had lately been thinking of writing
some children's verses, addressed to a certain little girl, but nothing
had come of it. Now as I walked on the mountainside, I felt again a desire
for this pastime, and worked at it on several occasions, but could not get
it into shape. The night, when one has slept an hour or two, is the time
when such things come to one.

So I went straight on to the village and bought myself a good store of
food. There were many people in this district, and it did me good to hear