Forks were laid down and faces turned towards the schoolmaster's tall figure. His voice vibrated with emotion, and Fru Thora thought she had never heard him speak so beautifully as now when he was making a speech in honour of his old enemy. He called this dinner an event in the district. He held his glass in one hand, and with the other fingered his long beard, and looked at nothing in particular through his spectacles, while the sun threw a ray of light across his fine forehead.
This was an event, because he had never seen so many dissimilar people united in a common object, a common desire to do good. There were still Birkebeins and Baglers to divide people in this country; but this evening he seemed to read a message of spring in this festive meeting. Like Olaf at Stiklestad, he seemed to be looking out over the whole country with its blue hills and shining fjords, over farms and lands, and into the many minds; and he descried the day when all men would be united in a sabbath atmosphere, with hands joined in brotherhood, united in waging war against the powers of evil, united in helping those who had suffered wrong. "Whatever religion we profess, or party we belong to, we shall henceforward agree in considering that the human in man is higher than all difference of opinion; and when the human being, Norby, suffers persecution and derogation, as he has lately done, we hasten to him, enclose him in a chain of fraternity, and say: 'Here are we, your brothers and sisters, Knut Norby; we will wash you clean. Here we are!'"
Scarcely a breath was heard during the impressive speech, until the sound of gentle weeping was heard a little way up the table. It was Fru Heggen, who always cried when her husband made a speech.
Gradually several faces turned from the speaker to the guests of the evening. Fru Norby sat with her eyes full of tears, and smiled; but Norby looked down, and modestly shook his head, as if to say, "You mustn't say anything more, Heggen."
When at length the speech came to an end, and the guests rose to drink with the guests of honour, the saw-mill owner roared: "Long live Norby and Fru Norby! Hip, hip!" And his abandonment to the spirit of the occasion was quickly followed, and the hurrahs rang.