Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 2).djvu/200

 the most fortunate man that does the greatest deeds—he whom the cravings of his time seize like a passion, begetting thoughts he himself cannot fathom, and pointing to paths which lead he knows not whither, but which he follows and must follow till he hears the people shout for joy, and, looking around him with wondering eyes, finds that he has done a mighty deed.

Ay, there is that unswerving confidence in Håkon.

It is that which the Romans called ingenium.—Truly I am not strong in Latin; but 'twas called ingenium.

[''Thoughtfully at first, afterwards in increasing excitement.''] Is Håkon made of other clay than mine? The fortunate man?—Ay, does not everything thrive with him? Does not everything shape itself for the best, when he is concerned? Even the peasants note it; they say the trees bear fruit twice, and the fowls hatch out two broods every summer, whilst Håkon is king. Vermeland, where he burned and harried, stands smiling with its houses built afresh, and its cornlands bending heavy-eared before the breeze. 'Tis as though blood and ashes fertilised the land where Håkon's armies pass; 'tis as though the Lord clothed with double verdure what Håkon has trampled down; 'tis as though the holy powers made haste to blot out all evil in his track. And how easy has been his path to the throne! He needed that Inge should die early, and Inge died: his youth needed