the old and the new. The new, though not acknowledging itself to be
beaten, takes to its heels, and flees in the stormy night through
wind and snow. But the snow is moist and heavy; it is beginning to
thaw. There is a vague presentiment of spring in the air.

This note of promise and suspense with which the book ends is meant
to be symbolic. From Kielland's point of view, Norway is yet
wrapped in the wintry winding-sheet of a tyrannical orthodoxy; and
all that he dares assert is that the chains of frost and snow seem
to be loosening. There is a spring feeling in the air.

This spring feeling is, however, scarcely perceptible in his last
book, _Jacob_, which is written in anything but a hopeful mood. It
is, rather, a protest against that optimism which in fiction we
call poetic justice. The harsh and unsentimental logic of reality
is emphasized with a ruthless disregard of rose-colored traditions.
The peasant lad Wold, who, like all Norse peasants, has been
brought up on the Bible, has become deeply impressed with the story
of Jacob, and God's persistent partisanship for him, in spite of
his dishonesty and tricky behavior. The story becomes, half
unconsciously, the basis of his philosophy of life, and he
undertakes to model his career on that of the Biblical hero. He
accordingly cheats and steals with a clever moderation, and in a
cautious and circumspect manner which defies detection. Step by
step he rises in the regard of his fellow-citizens; crushes, with
long-headed calculation or with brutal promptness (as it may suit
his purpose) all those who stand in his way, and arrives at last at
the goal of his desires. He becomes a local magnate, a member of
parliament, where he poses as a defender of the simple,
old-fashioned orthodoxy, is decorated by the King, and is an object