[Subsection]

In the afternoon he walked slowly down to the meeting-place by the river. And Olav was there.

Per asked, joy flooding through him, "Have you been here long?"

"Yes."

"They left today, I suppose?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Ours did too."

It was good to be there.

Nothing lay between them. No sin. No word. No stubborn   [p. 77]   look that read into your heart. Just Olav and himself. As they lay there side by side kicking the grass with the toes of their shoes, it seemed unthinkable that it could ever be any different either.

They said nothing about it.

Per picked up stones and threw them into the river. Olav picked up the same kinds of stones and threw them too. Olav wandered about in a copse for a while; then Per wandered about in the copse for a while too. There was a smooth wall of rock there and soft stones that you could write on the rock with. Per wrote on the wall in big, clear letters: OLAV BRINGA.

Olav wrote, in the same kind of primary school writing: PER BUFAST.

The river sang a friendlier melody. There was no sin here. They looked into each other's eyes. Each of them winced. All the rest of it seemed to be lying behind a thin wall: misery, fighting, sulks, boring work, wicked words---they hurriedly looked aside and chased it back to where it had come from. It was nothing. It did not exist! And when they looked at each other again, it really did not exist.

They had fought and become enemies forever, and had been eating their hearts out for each other; they knew it at this moment---and yet they were not enemies, but friends!

Per was ready to tell Olav everything he knew now. If only Olav had asked, Per would have told him. He knew it and was thinking about it.

Don't ask me, he wished.

Olav did not ask.

Yes, he would have told him all the hidden things. About Botolv. About Auntie who had kissed him, about the meeting with Åsne Bakken in the river long ago. Perhaps many other things---oh, it was unsafe to be so ready to tell someone if only you were asked.

Don't ask me, he thought.

Olav did not ask about anything.

That was strange too, and almost suspicious, that nobody should ask you when you knew about such things. Per began   [p. 78]   to wonder whether he ought to tell him without being asked.

No, no!

Yes, I will.

He cleared his throat, his cheeks hot. But before he got started it was too late.

"We must go home," said Olav, and got up. He had not noticed anything.

"Home?" Per breathed more easily. He felt freed from a sudden temptation. The things he knew had been lying like open hatches; now they closed again with a bang. He would not tell him.

"Yes, I suppose we must go home."

"Yes, we must."

"See you."

"'Bye."

This happened the day the sheep left. Olav had been found again. Per remembered Åsne as he was walking home. During the whole of their meeting, she had not so much as entered his mind.