Ticket No. 9672 (19 page)

"It is certainly very pretty," replied Sylvius Hogg, trying the bauble
on the tip of his little finger. "Lay it aside, Mr. Benett, and let us
look at something else."

"Bracelets or necklaces?"

"At a little of everything, if you please, Mr. Benett—a little of
everything. What is this?"

"A set of ornaments for the corsage. Look at that delicate tracery of
copper upon a red worsted groundwork. It is all in excellent taste,
though not very expensive."

"The effect is certainly charming, Mr. Benett. Lay the ornaments aside
with the ring."

"But I must call your attention to the fact that these ornaments are
reserved for the adornment of youthful brides on their wedding-day,
and that—"

"By Saint Olaf! you are right. Mr. Benett, you are quite right. Poor
Hulda! Unfortunately it is not Ole who is making her this present,
but myself, and it is not to a blushing bride that I am going to offer
it."

"True, true, Mr. Hogg."

"Let me look then at some jewelry suitable for a young girl. How about
this cross, Mr. Benett?"

"It is to be worn as a pendant, and being cut in concave facets it
sparkles brilliantly with every movement of the wearer's throat."

"It is very pretty, very pretty, indeed, and you can lay it aside
with the other articles, Mr. Benett. When we have gone through all the
show-cases we will make our selection."

"Yes, but—"

"What is the matter now?"

"This cross, too, is intended to be worn by Scandinavian brides on
their marriage-day."

"The deuce! friend Benett. I am certainly very unfortunate in my
selections."

"The fact is, professor, my stock is composed principally of bridal
jewelry, as that meets with the readiest sale. You can scarcely wonder
at that."

"The fact doesn't surprise me at all, Mr. Benett, though it places me
in a rather embarrassing position."

"Oh, well, you can still take the ring you asked me to put aside."

"Yes, but I should like some more showy ornament."

"Then take this necklace of silver filigree with its four rows of
chains which will have such a charming effect upon the neck of a young
girl. See! it is studded with gems of every hue, and it is certainly
one of the most quaint and curious productions of the Norwegian
silversmiths."

"Yes, yes," replied Sylvius Hogg. "It is a pretty ornament, though
perhaps rather showy for my modest Hulda. Indeed, I much prefer the
corsage ornaments you showed me just now, and the pendant. Are they
so especially reserved for brides that they can not be presented to a
young girl?"

"I think the Storthing has as yet passed no law to that effect,"
replied Mr. Benett. "It is an unpardonable oversight, probably, but—"

"Well, well, it shall be attended to immediately, Mr. Benett. In the
meantime I will take the cross and corsage ornaments. My little
Hulda may marry some day after all. Good and charming as she is she
certainly will not want for an opportunity to utilize these ornaments,
so I will buy them and take them away with me."

"Very well, very well, professor."

"Shall we have the pleasure of seeing you at the drawing, friend
Benett?"

"Certainly."

"I think it will be a very interesting affair."

"I am sure of it."

"But look here," exclaimed the professor, bending over a show-case,
"here are two very pretty rings I did not notice before."

"Oh, they wouldn't suit you, Mr. Hogg. These are the heavily chased
rings that the pastor places upon the finger of the bride and the
groom during the marriage ceremony."

"Indeed? Ah, well, I will take them all the same. And now I must bid
you good-bye, Mr. Benett, though I hope to see you again very soon."

Sylvius Hogg now left the establishment, and walked briskly in the
direction of the Hotel du Nord.

On entering the vestibule his eyes fell upon the words
Fiat lux
,
which are inscribed upon the hall lamp.

"Ah! these Latin words are certainly very appropriate," he said to
himself, "Yes.
Fiat lux! Fiat lux!
"

Hulda was still in her room, sitting by the window. The professor
rapped at the door, which was instantly opened.

"Oh. Monsieur Sylvius!" cried the girl, delightedly.

"Yes, here I am, here I am! But never mind about Monsieur Sylvius
now; our attention must be devoted to breakfast, which is ready and
waiting. I'm as hungry as a wolf. Where is Joel?"

"In the reading-room."

"Well, I will go in search of him. You, my dear child, must come right
down and join us."

Sylvius Hogg left the room and went to find Joel, who was also waiting
for him, but in a state of mind bordering upon despair. The poor
fellow immediately showed the professor the copy of the "Morgen-Blad,"
containing the discouraging telegram from the commander of the
"Telegraph."

"Hulda has not seen it, I hope?" inquired the professor, hastily.

"No, I thought it better to conceal from her as long as possible what
she will learn only too soon."

"You did quite right, my boy. Let us go to breakfast."

A moment afterward all three were seated at a table in a private
dining-room, and Sylvius Hogg began eating with great zest.

An excellent breakfast it was, equal in fact to any dinner, as you
can judge from the
menu
. Cold beer soup, salmon with egg sauce,
delicious veal cutlets, rare roast beef, a delicate salad, vanilla
ice, raspberry and cherry preserver—the whole moistened with some
very fine claret.

"Excellent, excellent!" exclaimed Sylvius Hogg. "Why, we can almost
imagine ourselves in Dame Hansen's inn at Dal."

And as his mouth was otherwise occupied his eyes smiled as much as it
is possible for eyes to smile.

Joel and Hulda endeavored to reply in the same strain, but they could
not, and the poor girl tasted scarcely anything. When the repast was
concluded:

"My children," said Sylvius Hogg, "you certainly failed to do justice
to a very excellent breakfast. Still, I can not compel you to eat, and
if you go without breakfast you are likely to enjoy your dinner all
the more, while I very much doubt if I shall be able to compete with
you to-night. Now, it is quite time for us to leave the table."

The professor was already upon his feet, and he was about to take the
hat Joel handed him, when Hulda checked him by saying:

"Monsieur Sylvius, do you still insist that I shall accompany you?"

"To witness the drawing? Certainly I do, my dear girl."

"But it will be a very painful ordeal for me."

"I admit it, but Ole wished you to be present at the drawing, Hulda,
and Ole's wishes must be obeyed."

This phrase was certainly becoming a sort of refrain in Sylvius Hogg's
mouth.

What a crowd filled the large hall of the University of Christiana in
which the drawing of the great lottery was to take place—a crowd that
overflowed into the very court-yards, as even the immense building
was not large enough to accommodate such a throng, and even into the
adjoining streets, as the court-yards, too, proved inadequate toward
the last.

On that Sunday, the 15th of July, it certainly was not by their
calmness and phlegm that one would have recognized these madly excited
people as Norwegians. Was this unwonted excitement due solely to
the interest excited by this drawing, or was it due, at least, in a
measure, to the unusually high temperature of the summer's day?

The drawing was to begin at three o'clock precisely. There were one
hundred prizes—divided into three classes: 1st, ninety prizes ranging
in value from one hundred to one thousand marks, and amounting in all
to forty-five thousand marks; 2d, nine prizes of from one thousand to
nine thousand marks, and amounting to forty-five thousand marks, and
3d, one prize of one hundred thousand marks.

Contrary to the rule that is generally observed in lotteries of this
kind, the drawing of the grand prize was reserved for the last. It was
not to the holder of the first ticket drawn that the grand prize would
be given, but to the last, that is to say, the one hundredth. Hence,
there would result a series of emotions and heart-throbbings of
constantly increasing violence, for it had been decided that no ticket
should be entitled to two prizes, but that having gained one prize,
the drawing should be considered null and void if the same number were
taken from the urns a second time.

All this was known to the public, and there was nothing for people
to do but await the appointed hour; but to while away the tedious
interval of waiting they all talked, and, chiefly, of the pathetic
situation of Hulda Hansen. Unquestionably, if she had still been the
possessor of Ole Kamp's ticket each individual present would have
wished her the next best luck to himself.

Several persons having seen the dispatch published in the
"Morgen-Blad," spoke of it to their neighbors, and the entire crowd
soon became aware that the search of the "Telegraph" had proved
futile. This being the case all felt that there was no longer any hope
of finding even a vestige of the lost "Viking." Not one of the crew
could have survived the shipwreck, and Hulda would never see her lover
again.

Suddenly another report diverted the minds of the crowd. It was
rumored that Sandgoist had decided to leave Drammen, and several
persons pretended that they had seen him in the streets of
Christiania. Could it be that he had ventured into this hall? If
he had the wretch would certainly meet with a most unflattering
reception. How audacious in him to think of such a thing as being
present at this drawing! It was so improbable that it could not be
possible. It must certainly be a false alarm, and nothing more.

About quarter past two quite a commotion was apparent in the crowd.

It was caused by the sudden appearance of Sylvius Hogg at the gate of
the University. Every one knew the prominent part he had taken in the
whole affair, and how, after having been received by Dame Hansen's
children, he had endeavored to repay the obligation, so the crowd
instantly divided to make way for him, and there arose from every
side a flattering murmur, which Sylvius acknowledged by a series of
friendly bows, and this murmur soon changed into hearty applause.

But the professor was not alone. When those nearest him stepped back
to make way for him they saw that he had a young girl on his arm, and
that a young man was following them.

A young man! a young girl! The discovery had very much the effect of
an electric shock. The same thought flashed through every mind like a
spark from an electric battery.

"Hulda! Hulda Hansen!"

This was the name that burst from every lip.

Yes, it was Hulda, so deeply agitated that she could hardly walk.
Indeed, she certainly would have fallen had it not been for Sylvius
Hogg's supporting arm. But it upheld her firmly—her, the modest,
heart-broken little heroine of the fête to which Ole Kamp's presence
only was wanting. How greatly she would have preferred to remain in
her own little room at Dal! How she shrunk from this curiosity on the
part of those around her, sympathizing though it was! But Sylvius Hogg
had wished her to come, and she had done so.

"Room! room!" was heard on all sides.

And as Sylvius Hogg, and Hulda and Joel walked up the passage-way that
had been cleared for them, as if by magic, how many friendly hands
were outstretched to grasp theirs, how many kind and cordial words
were lavished upon them, and with what delight Sylvius Hogg listened
to these expressions of friendly feeling!

"Yes; it is she, my friends, my little Hulda, whom I have brought back
with me from Dal," said he. "And this is Joel, her noble brother; but
pray, my good friends, do not smother them!"

Though Joel returned every grasp with interest, the less vigorous
hands of the professor were fairly benumbed by such constant shaking,
but his eyes sparkled with joy, though a tear was stealing down his
cheek; but—and the phenomenon was certainly well worthy the attention
of ophthalmologists—the tear was a luminous one.

It took them fully a quarter of an hour to cross the court-yard, gain
the main hall, and reach the seats that had been reserved for
the professor. When this was at last accomplished, not without
considerable difficulty, Sylvius Hogg seated himself between Hulda and
Joel.

At precisely half past two o'clock, the door at the rear of the
platform opened, and the president of the lottery appeared, calm
and dignified, and with the commanding mien befitting his exalted
position. Two directors followed, bearing themselves with equal
dignity. Then came six little blue-eyed girls, decked out in flowers
and ribbons, six little girls whose innocent hands were to draw the
lottery.

Their entrance was greeted with a burst of loud applause that
testified both to the pleasure all experienced on beholding the
managers of the Christiania Lottery, and to the impatience with which
the crowd was awaiting the beginning of the drawing.

There were six little girls, as we have remarked before, and there
were also six urns upon a table that occupied the middle of the
platform. Each of these urns contained ten numbers: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,
7, 8, 9, 0, representing the units, tens, hundreds, thousands, tens of
thousands, and hundreds of thousands of the number one million. There
was no seventh urn, for the million column, because it had been agreed
that six ciphers drawn simultaneously should represent one million, as
in this way the chances of success would be equally divided among all
the numbers.

It had also been settled that the numbers should be drawn in
succession from the urns, beginning with that to the left of the
audience. The winning number would thus be formed under the very eyes
of the spectators, first by the figure in the column of hundreds of
thousands, then in the columns of tens of thousands, and so on until
the column of units was reached, and the reader can judge with what
emotion each person watched his chances of success increase with the
drawing of each figure.