Authors: Jules Verne
Sylvius Hogg listened attentively to this sad story.
"You should not have given up the ticket," he cried, vehemently; "no,
you should not have done it."
"How could I help it, Monsieur Sylvius?" replied the poor girl,
greatly troubled.
"You could not, of course, and yet—Ah, if I had only been here!"
And what would Professor Sylvius Hogg have done had he been there? He
did not say, however, but continued:
"Yes, my dear Hulda; yes, Joel, you did the best you could, under the
circumstances. But what enrages me almost beyond endurance is the
fact that this Sandgoist will profit greatly, no doubt, by this absurd
superstition on the part of the public. If poor Ole's ticket should
really prove to be the lucky one this unprincipled scoundrel will
reap all the benefit. And yet, to suppose that this number, 9672,
will necessarily prove the lucky one, is simply ridiculous and absurd.
Still, I would not have given up the ticket, I think. After once
refusing to surrender it to Sandgoist Hulda would have done better to
turn a deaf ear to her mother's entreaties."
The brother and sister could find nothing to say in reply. In giving
the ticket to Dame Hansen, Hulda had been prompted by a filial
sentiment that was certainly to be commended rather than censured. The
sacrifice she had made was not one of more or less probable chance,
but of Ole Kamp's last wishes and of her last memento of her lover.
But it was too late to think of this now. Sandgoist had the ticket.
It belonged to him, and he would sell it to the highest bidder. A
heartless usurer would thus coin money out of the touching farewell of
the shipwrecked mariner. Sylvius Hogg could not bear the thought. It
was intolerable to him.
He resolved to have a talk with Dame Hansen on the subject that very
day. This conversation could effect no change in the state of affairs,
but it had become almost necessary.
"So you think I did wrong, Monsieur Hogg?" she asked, after allowing
the professor to say all he had to say on the subject.
"Certainly, Dame Hansen."
"If you blame me for having engaged in rash speculations, and for
endangering the fortune of my children, you are perfectly right; but
if you blame me for having resorted to the means I did to free myself,
you are wrong. What have you to say in reply?"
"Nothing."
"But seriously, do you think that I ought to have refused the offer of
Sandgoist, who really offered fifteen thousand marks for a ticket that
is probably worth nothing; I ask you again, do you think I ought to
have refused it?"
"Yes and no, Dame Hansen."
"It can not be both yes and no, professor; it is no. Under different
circumstances, and if the future had appeared less threatening—though
that was my own fault, I admit—I should have upheld Hulda in her
refusal to part with the ticket she had received from Ole Kamp. But
when there was a certainty of being driven in a few days from the
house in which my husband died, and in which my children first saw
the light, I could not understand such a refusal, and you yourself,
Monsieur Hogg, had you been in my place, would certainly have acted as
I did."
"No, Dame Hansen, no!"
"What would you have done, then?"
"I would have done anything rather than sacrifice a ticket my daughter
had received under such circumstances."
"Do these circumstances, in your opinion, enhance the value of the
ticket?"
"No one can say."
"On the contrary, every one does know. This ticket is simply one that
has nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine
chances of losing against one of winning. Do you consider it any more
valuable because it was found in a bottle that was picked up at sea?"
Sylvius Hogg hardly knew what to say in reply to this straightforward
question, so he reverted to the sentimental side of the question by
remarking:
"The situation now seems to be briefly as follows: Ole Kamp, as the
ship went down, bequeathed to Hulda the sole earthly possession left
him, with the request that she should present it on the day of the
drawing, provided, of course, that the ticket reached her; and now
this ticket is no longer in Hulda's possession."
"If Ole Kamp had been here, he would not have hesitated to surrender
his ticket to Sandgoist," replied Dame Hansen.
"That is quite possible," replied Sylvius Hogg; "but certainly no
other person had a right to do it, and what will you say to him if he
has not perished and if he should return to-morrow, or this very day?"
"Ole will never return," replied Dame Hansen, gloomily. "Ole is dead,
Monsieur Hogg, dead, beyond a doubt."
"You can not be sure of that, Dame Hansen," exclaimed the professor.
"In fact, you know nothing at all about it. Careful search is being
made for some survivor of the shipwreck. It may prove successful; yes,
even before the time appointed for the drawing of this lottery. You
have no right to say that Ole Kamp is dead, so long as we have no
proof that he perished in the catastrophe. The reason I speak with
less apparent assurance before your children is that I do not want to
arouse hopes that may end in bitter disappointment. But to you, Dame
Hansen, I can say what I really think, and I can not, I will not
believe that Ole Kamp is dead! No, I will not believe it!"
Finding herself thus worsted, Dame Hansen ceased to argue the
question, and this Norwegian, being rather superstitious in her secret
heart, hung her head as if Ole Kamp was indeed about to appear before
her.
"At all events, before parting with the ticket," continued Sylvius
Hogg, "there was one very simple thing that you neglected to do."
"What?"
"You should first have applied to your personal friends or the friends
of your family. They would not have refused to assist you, either by
purchasing the mortgage of Sandgoist, or by loaning you the money to
pay it."
"I have no friends of whom I could ask such a favor."
"Yes, you have, Dame Hansen. I know at least one person who would have
done it without the slightest hesitation."
"And who is that, if you please?"
"Sylvius Hogg, member of the Storthing."
Dame Hansen, too deeply moved to reply in words, bowed her thanks to
the professor.
"But what's done can't be undone, unfortunately," added Sylvius Hogg,
"and I should be greatly obliged to you, Dame Hansen, if you
would refrain from saying anything to your children about this
conversation."
And the two separated.
The professor had resumed his former habits, and his daily walks as
well. In company with Joel and Hulda, he spent several hours every
day in visiting the points of interest in and about Dal—not going too
far, however, for fear of wearying the young girl. Much of his time,
too, was devoted to his extensive correspondence. He wrote letter
after letter to Bergen and Christiania, stimulating the zeal all who
were engaged in the good work of searching for the "Viking." To find
Ole seemed to be his sole aim in life now.
He even felt it his duty to again absent himself for twenty-four
hours, doubtless for an object in some way connected with the affair
in which Dame Hansen's family was so deeply interested; but, as
before, he maintained absolute silence in regard to what he was doing
or having done in this matter.
In the meantime Hulda regained strength but slowly. The poor girl
lived only upon the recollection of Ole; and her hope of seeing him
again grew fainter from day to day. It is true, she had near her the
two beings she loved best in the world; and one of them never ceased
to encourage her; but would that suffice? Was it not necessary to
divert her mind at any cost? But how was her mind to be diverted from
the gloomy thoughts that bound her, as it were, to the shipwrecked
"Viking?"
The 12th of July came. The drawing of the Christiania Schools Lottery
was to take place in four days.
It is needless to say that Sandgoist's purchase had come to the
knowledge of the public. The papers announced that the famous ticket
bearing the number 9672 was now in the possession of M. Sandgoist, of
Drammen, and that this ticket would be sold to the highest bidder;
so, if M. Sandgoist was now the owner of the aforesaid ticket, he must
have purchased it for a round sum of Hulda Hansen.
Of course this announcement lowered the young girl very decidedly in
public estimation. What! Hulda Hansen had consented to sell the ticket
belonging to her lost lover? She had turned this last memento of him
into money?
But a timely paragraph that appeared in the "Morgen-Blad" gave the
readers a true account of what had taken place. It described the real
nature of Sandgoist's interference, and how the ticket had come into
his hands. And now it was upon the Drammen usurer that public odium
fell; upon the heartless creditor who had not hesitated to take
advantage of the misfortunes of the Hansen family, and as if by common
consent the offers which had been made while Hulda held the ticket
were not renewed. The ticket seemed to have lost its supernatural
value since it had been defiled by Sandgoist's touch, so that worthy
had made but a bad bargain, after all, and the famous ticket, No.
9672, appeared likely to be left on his hands.
It is needless to say that neither Hulda nor Joel was aware of what
had been said, and this was fortunate, for it would have been very
painful to them to become publicly mixed up in an affair which had
assumed such a purely speculative character since it came into the
hands of the usurer.
Late on the afternoon of the 12th of July, a letter arrived, addressed
to Professor Sylvius Hogg.
This missive, which came from the Naval Department, contained another
which had been mailed at Christiansand, a small town situated at the
mouth of the Gulf of Christiania. It could hardly have contained any
news, however, for Sylvius Hogg put it in his pocket and said nothing
to Joel or his sister about its contents.
But when he bade them good-night on retiring to his chamber, he
remarked:
"The drawing of the lottery is to take place in three days as you are,
of course, aware, my children. You intend to be present, do you not?"
"What is the use, Monsieur Sylvius?" responded Hulda.
"But Ole wished his betrothed to witness it. In fact, he particularly
requested it in the last lines he ever wrote, and I think his wishes
should be obeyed."
"But the ticket is no longer in Hulda's possession," remarked Joel,
"and we do not even know into whose hands it has passed."
"Nevertheless, I think you both ought to accompany me to Christiania
to attend the drawing," replied the professor.
"Do you really desire it, Monsieur Sylvius?" asked the young girl.
"It is not I, my dear Hulda, but Ole who desires it, and Ole's wishes
must be respected."
"Monsieur Sylvius is right, sister," replied Joel. "Yes; you must go.
When do you intend to start, Monsieur Sylvius?"
"To-morrow, at day-break, and may Saint Olaf protect us!"
The next morning Foreman Lengling's gayly painted kariol bore away
Sylvius Hogg and Hulda, seated comfortably side by side. There was not
room for Joel, as we know already, so the brave fellow trudged along
on foot at the horse's head.
The fourteen kilometers that lay between Dal and Moel had no terrors
for this untiring walker.
Their route lay along the left bank of the Maan, down the charming
valley of the Vesfjorddal—a narrow, heavily wooded valley, watered by
a thousand dashing cataracts. At each turn in the path, too, one saw
appearing or disappearing the lofty summit of Gousta, with its two
large patches of dazzling snow.
The sky was cloudless, the weather magnificent, the air not too cool,
nor the sun too warm.
Strange to say, Sylvius Hogg's face seemed to have become more serene
since his departure from the inn, though it is not improbable that
his cheerfulness was a trifle forced, so anxious was he that this trip
should divert Joel and Hulda from their sorrowful thoughts.
It took them only about two hours and a half to reach Moel, which is
situated at the end of Lake Tinn. Here they were obliged to leave the
kariol and take a small boat, for at this point a chain of small lakes
begins. The kariol paused near the little church, at the foot of a
water-fall at least five hundred feet in height. This water-fall,
which is visible for only about one fifth of its descent, loses itself
in a deep crevasse before being swallowed up by the lake.
Two boatmen were standing on the shore beside a birch-bark canoe, so
fragile and unstable that the slightest imprudence on the part of its
occupants would inevitably overturn it.
The lake was at its very best this beautiful morning. The sun had
absorbed all the mist of the previous night, and no one could not have
asked for a more superb summer's day.
"You are not tired, my good Joel?" inquired the professor, as he
alighted from the kariol.
"No, Monsieur Sylvius. You forget that I am accustomed to long tramps
through the Telemark."
"That is true. Tell me, do you know the most direct route from Moel to
Christiania?"
"Perfectly, sir. But I fear when we reach Tinoset, at the further end
of the lake, we shall have some difficulty in procuring a kariol, as
we have not warned them of our intended arrival, as is customary in
this country."
"Have no fears, my boy," replied the professor: "I attended to that.
You needn't be afraid that I have any intention of making you foot it
from Dal to Christiania."
"I could easily do it if necessary," remarked Joel.
"But it will not be necessary, fortunately. Now suppose we go over our
route again."
"Well, once at Tinoset, Monsieur Sylvius, we for a time follow the
shores of Lake Fol, passing through Vik and Bolkesko, so as to reach
Mose, and afterward Kongsberg, Hangsund, and Drammen. If we travel
both night and day it will be possible for us to reach Christiania
to-morrow afternoon."