There was a path down
along the rock, which a goat or a brisk lad
might be induced to climb, if the prize of the
experiment were great enough to justify the
hazard. The common road to Kvaerk made a
large circuit around the forest, and reached the
valley far up at its northern end.
It was difficult to get anything to grow at
Kvaerk. In the spring all the valley lay bare
and green, before the snow had begun to think
of melting up there; and the night-frost would
be sure to make a visit there, while the fields
along the river lay silently drinking the summer
dew. On such occasions the whole family at
Kvaerk would have to stay up during all the
night and walk back and forth on either side of
the wheat-fields, carrying a long rope between
them and dragging it slowly over the heads of
the rye, to prevent the frost from settling; for
as long as the ears could be kept in motion,
they could not freeze. But what did thrive at
Kvaerk in spite of both snow and night-frost was
legends, and they throve perhaps the better for
the very sterility of its material soil. Aasa of
course had heard them all and knew them by
heart; they had been her friends from childhood,
and her only companions. All the servants,
however, also knew them and many others
besides, and if they were asked how the mansion
of Kvaerk happened to be built like an eagle's
nest on the brink of a precipice, they would tell
you the following:
Saint Olaf, Norway's holy king, in the time of
his youth had sailed as a Viking over the wide
ocean, and in foreign lands had learned the
doctrine of Christ the White.
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