"Yes," said Pastor Lindal; "but the opposite party drew another, which attracted many partisans. They said his reverence has a good time of it. He has a house which is better than a Danish farmer's, and a farm which is just as good. He has horses, cows, pigs, sheep, and poultry. He has, moreover, tithes and dues of many kinds; and besides these, it is necessary to stick a dollar in his fist whenever one must make use of him. Whilst the Danish farmer has to sweat behind his plough, the clergyman sits at his ease smoking his pipe in his study, and has nothing more to do than to preach on a Sunday, and to hear the children read once a week. Everything that is congenial to the taste of the Danish farmer, the clergyman turns up his nose at. He abuses the leaders of the people, and only reads conservative newspapers, and on election days he votes against all his parish. The farmer maintains and pays him, but his conviction is that he is better than any farmer. What, therefore, can be more stiff-necked of him than to refuse to serve his country with his own, reverend person? Off with his black coat and clap on a red, and let the corporal teach him. He is a learned fellow, but, doubtless, stupid at drill."
"That last," said Hardy, "is a reference to Holberg's play of 'Erasmus Montanus.'"
"Yes," said Pastor Lindal; "and it amused the country. But they got hold of another idea, and tore it to shreds: they said if the flock goes to war, the shepherd should not be absent. The result, however, was that theological candidates are liable to military service, and it makes a difference of possibly twenty men yearly. It, however, proves one thing, and that is, the Lower House had got hold of the clerical gown, and were determined, with bull-dog tenacity, to rend it."
"A similar question in England," said Hardy, "would have produced the same result."
"That I can well believe," said the Pastor; "but with you a congregation can be sold to the highest bidder, and is. There is no thought in England of adjusting the payment for church work to the work done, and so long as this exists it is a dangerous feature."
Before going to bed, Hardy said to Frøken Helga, "Good night," as he had done on previous nights, without more than a bow; but to his surprise she held out her hand, and said--