At a place
in Haegdehaugen I halted outside a provision shop where some food was
displayed in the window. A cat lay there and slept beside a round French
roll. There was a basin of lard and several basins of meal in the
background. I stood a while and gazed at these eatables; but as I had no
money wherewith to buy, I turned quickly away and continued my tramp. I
went very slowly, passed by Majorstuen, went on, always on--it seemed to
me for hours,--and came at length at Bogstad's wood.
I turned off the road here, and sat down to rest. Then I began to look
about for a place to suit me, to gather together heather and juniper
leaves, and make up a bed on a little declivity where it was a bit dry. I
opened the parcel and took out the blanket; I was tired and exhausted with
the long walk, and lay down at once. I turned and twisted many times
before I could get settled. My ear pained me a little--it was slightly
swollen from the whip-lash--and I could not lie on it. I pulled off my
shoes and put them under my head, with the paper from Semb on top.
And the great spirit of darkness spread a shroud over me ... everything
was silent--everything. But up in the heights soughed the everlasting
song, the voice of the air, the distant, toneless humming which is never
silent. I listened so long to this ceaseless faint murmur that it began to
bewilder me; it was surely a symphony from the rolling spheres above.
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