This went on for about an hour without producing any incident of particular interest, though people noticed that number 9672 had not been drawn, which would have taken away all chance of its winning the capital prize.

“That is a good omen for Sandgoist!” remarked one of the professor’s neighbors.

“It would certainly be an extraordinary thing if a man like that should meet with such a piece of good luck, even though he has the famous ticket,” remarked another.

“A famous ticket, indeed!” replied Sylvius Hogg; “but don’t ask me why, for I can’t possibly tell you.”

Then began the drawing of the second series of prizes, nine in number.  This promised to be very interesting—­the ninety-first prize being one of a thousand marks; the ninety-second, one of two thousand marks, and so on, up to the ninety-ninth, which was one of nine thousand.  The third class, the reader must recollect, consisted of the capital prize only.

Number 72,521 won a prize of five thousand marks.  This ticket belonged to a worthy seaman of Christiania, who was loudly cheered and who received with great dignity the congratulations lavished upon him.

Another number, 823,752, won a prize of six thousand marks, and how great was Sylvius Hogg’s delight when he learned from Joel that it belonged to the charming Siegfrid of Bamble.

An incident that caused no little excitement followed.  When the ninety-seventh prize was drawn, the one consisting of seven thousand marks, the audience feared for a moment that Sandgoist was the winner of it.  It was won, however, by ticket number 9627, which was within only forty-five points of Ole Kamp’s number.

The two drawings that followed were numbers very widely removed from each other:  775 and 76,287.

The second series was now concluded, and the great prize of one hundred thousand marks alone remained to be drawn.

The excitement of the assemblage at that moment beggars all description.

At first there was a long murmur that extended from the large hall into the court-yards and even into the street.  In fact, several minutes elapsed before quiet was restored.  A profound silence followed, and in this calmness there was a certain amount of stupor—­the stupor one experiences on seeing a prisoner appear upon the place of execution.  But this time the still unknown victim was only condemned to win a prize of one hundred thousand marks, not to lose his head; that is, unless he lost it from ecstasy.

Joel sat with folded arms, gazing straight ahead of him, being the least moved, probably, in all that large assembly.  Hulda, her head bowed upon her breast, was thinking only of her poor Ole.  As for Sylvius Hogg—­but any attempt to describe the state of mind in which Sylvius Hogg found himself would be worse than useless.

“We will now conclude with the drawing of the one hundred thousand mark prize,” announced the president.