Ticket No. 9672 - Jules Verne (i can read book club .txt) 📗

What a crowd filled the large hall of the University of Christiana in which the drawing of the great lottery was to take place⁠—a crowd that overflowed into the very courtyards, as even the immense building was not large enough to accommodate such a throng, and even into the adjoining streets, as the courtyards, too, proved inadequate toward the last.

On that Sunday, the 15th of July, it certainly was not by their calmness and phlegm that one would have recognized these madly excited people as Norwegians. Was this unwonted excitement due solely to the interest excited by this drawing, or was it due, at least, in a measure, to the unusually high temperature of the summer day?

The drawing was to begin at three o’clock precisely. There were one hundred prizes⁠—divided into three classes: 1st, ninety prizes ranging in value from one hundred to one thousand marks, and amounting in all to forty-five thousand marks; 2nd, nine prizes of from one thousand to nine thousand marks, and amounting to forty-five thousand marks, and 3rd, one prize of one hundred thousand marks.

Contrary to the rule that is generally observed in lotteries of this kind, the drawing of the grand prize was reserved for the last. It was not to the holder of the first ticket drawn that the grand prize would be given, but to the last, that is to say, the one hundredth. Hence, there would result a series of emotions and heart-throbbings of constantly increasing violence, for it had been decided that no ticket should be entitled to two prizes, but that having gained one prize, the drawing should be considered null and void if the same number were taken from the urns a second time.

All this was known to the public, and there was nothing for people to do but await the appointed hour; but to while away the tedious interval of waiting they all talked, and, chiefly, of the pathetic situation of Hulda Hansen. Unquestionably, if she had still been the possessor of Ole Kamp’s ticket each individual present would have wished her the next best luck to himself.

Several persons having seen the dispatch published in the Morgen-Blad, spoke of it to their neighbors, and the entire crowd soon became aware that the search of the Telegraph had proved futile. This being the case all felt that there was no longer any hope of finding even a vestige of the lost Viking. Not one of the crew could have survived the shipwreck, and Hulda would never see her lover again.

Suddenly another report diverted the minds of the crowd. It was rumored that Sandgoist had decided to leave Drammen, and several persons pretended that they had seen him in the streets of Christiania. Could it be that he had ventured into this hall? If he had the wretch would certainly meet with a most unflattering reception. How audacious in him to think of such a thing as being present at this drawing! It was so improbable that it could not be possible. It must certainly be a false alarm, and nothing more.

About quarter past two quite a commotion was apparent in the crowd.

It was caused by the sudden appearance of Sylvius Hogg at the gate of the University. Everyone knew the prominent part he had taken in the whole affair, and how, after having been received by Dame Hansen’s children, he had endeavored to repay the obligation, so the crowd instantly divided to make way for him, and there arose from every side a flattering murmur, which Sylvius acknowledged by a series of friendly bows, and this murmur soon changed into hearty applause.

But the professor was not alone. When those nearest him stepped back to make way for him they saw that he had a young girl on his arm, and that a young man was following them.

A young man! a young girl! The discovery had very much the effect of an electric shock. The same thought flashed through every mind like a spark from an electric battery.

“Hulda! Hulda Hansen!”

This was the name that burst from every lip.

Yes, it was Hulda, so deeply agitated that she could hardly walk. Indeed, she certainly would have fallen had it not been for Sylvius Hogg’s supporting arm. But it upheld her firmly⁠—her, the modest, heartbroken little heroine of the fête to which Ole Kamp’s presence only was wanting. How greatly she would have preferred to remain in her own little room at Dal! How she shrunk from this curiosity on the part of those around her, sympathizing though it was! But Sylvius Hogg had wished her to come, and she had done so.

“Room! room!” was heard on all sides.

And as Sylvius Hogg, and Hulda and Joel walked up the passageway that had been cleared for them, as if by magic, how many friendly hands were outstretched to grasp theirs, how many kind and cordial words were lavished upon them, and with what delight Sylvius Hogg listened to these expressions of friendly feeling!

“Yes; it is she, my friends, my little Hulda, whom I have brought back with me from Dal,” said he. “And this is Joel, her noble brother; but pray, my good friends, do not smother them!”

Though Joel returned every grasp with interest, the less vigorous hands of the professor were fairly benumbed by such constant shaking, but his eyes sparkled with joy, though a tear was stealing down his cheek; but⁠—and the phenomenon was certainly well worthy the attention of ophthalmologists⁠—the tear was a luminous one.

It took them fully a quarter of an hour to cross the courtyard, gain the main hall, and reach the seats that had been reserved for the professor. When this was at last accomplished, not without considerable difficulty, Sylvius Hogg seated himself between Hulda and Joel.

At precisely half past two o’clock, the door at the rear of the platform opened, and the president of the lottery appeared, calm and dignified, and with the commanding mien befitting his exalted