Jostein Gaarder - Sophie's World - A Novel About the History of Philosophy

He had been given a taste of his own medicine. But with a significant difference, surely. His medicine had first and foremost affected Sophie and Alberto. And they—well, they were only imaginary.

He did what Hilde had suggested. He lowered the back of his seat and nodded off. He was not fully awake again until he had gone through passport control and was standing in the arrival hall at Kjevik Airport. A demonstration was there to greet him.

There were eight or ten young people of about Hilde’s age. They were holding signs saying: WELCOME HOME,

DAD — HILDE IS WAITING IN THE GARDEN — IRONY LIVES.

The worst thing was that he could not just jump into a taxi. He had to wait for his baggage. And all the while, Hilde’s classmates were swarming around him, forcing him to read the signs again and again. Then one of the girls came up and gave him a bunch of roses and he melted. He dug down into one of his shopping bags and gave each demonstrator a marzipan bar. Now there were only two left for Hilde. When he had reclaimed his baggage, a young man stepped forward and explained that he was under the command of the Queen of the Mirror, and that he had orders to drive him to Bjerkely. The other demonstrators dispersed into the crowd.

They drove out onto the E 18. Every bridge and tunnel they passed was draped with banners saying: “Welcome home!”, “The turkey is ready,”

“I can see you, Dad!”

When he was dropped off outside the gate at Bjerkely, Albert Knag heaved a sigh of relief, and thanked the driver with a hundred crown note and three cans of Carlsberg Elephant beer.

His wife was waiting for him outside the house. After a long embrace, he asked: “Where is she?”

“She’s sitting on the dock, Albert.”

Alberto and Sophie stopped the red convertible on the square in Lillesand outside the Hotel Norge. It was a quarter past ten. They could see a large bonfire out in the archipelago.

“How do we find Bjerkely?” asked Sophie.

“We’ll just have to hunt around for it. You remember the painting in the major’s cabin.”

“We’ll have to hurry. I want to get there before he arrives.”

They started to drive around the minor roads and then over rocky mounds and slopes. A useful clue was that Bjerkely lay by the water.

Suddenly Sophie shouted, “There it is! We’ve found it!”

“I do believe you’re right, but don’t shout so loud.”

“Why? There’s no one to hear us.”

“My dear Sophie—after a whole course in philosophy, I’m very disappointed to find you still jumping to conclusions.”

“Yes, but. . .”

“Surely you don’t believe this place is entirely devoid of trolls, pixies, wood nymphs, and good fairies?”

“Oh, excuse me.”

They drove through the gate and up the gravel path to the house. Alberto parked the car on the lawn beside the glider. A little way down the garden a table was set for three.

“I can see her!” whispered Sophie. “She’s sitting down on the dock, just like in my dream.”

“Have you noticed how much the garden looks like your own garden in Clover Close?”

“Yes, it does. With the glider and everything. Can I go down to her?”

“Naturally. I’ll stay here.”

Sophie ran down to the dock. She almost stumbled and fell over Hilde. But she sat down politely beside her.

Hilde sat idly playing with the line that the rowboat was made fast with. In her left hand she held a slip of paper. She was clearly waiting. She glanced at her watch several times.

Sophie thought she was very pretty. She had fair, curly hair and bright green eyes. She was wearing a yellow summer dress. She was not unlike Joanna.

Sophie tried to talk to her even though she knew it was useless.

“Hilde—it’s Sophie!”

Hilde gave no sign that she had heard.

Sophie got onto her knees and tried to shout in her ear:

“Can you hear me, Hilde? Or are you both deaf and blind?”

Did she, or didn’t she, open her eyes a little wider? Wasn’t there a very slight sign that she had heard something—however faintly?

She looked around. Then she turned her head sharply and stared right into Sophie’s eyes. She did not focus on her properly; it was as if she was looking right through her.

“Not so loud, Sophie,” said Alberto from up in the car. “I don’t want the garden filled with mermaids.”

Sophie sat still now. It felt good just to be close to Hilde.

Then she heard the deep voice of a man: “Hilde!”

It was the major—in uniform, with a blue beret. He stood at the top of the garden.

Hilde jumped up and ran toward him. They met between the glider and the red convertible. He lifted her up in the air and swung her around and around.

Hilde had been sitting on the dock waiting for her father. Since he had landed at Kastrup, she had thought of him every fifteen minutes, trying to imagine where he was now, and how he was taking it. She had noted all the times down on a slip of paper and kept it with her all day.

What if it made him angry? But surely he couldn’t expect that he would write a mysterious book for her— and then everything would remain as before?

She looked at her watch again. Now it was a quarter past ten. He could be arriving any minute.

But what was that? She thought she heard a faint breath of something, exactly as in her dream about Sophie.

She turned around quickly. There was something, she was sure of it. But what?

Maybe it was only the summer night.

For a few seconds she was afraid she was hearing things.

“Hilde!”

Now she turned the other way. It was Dad! He was standing at the top of the garden.

Hilde jumped up and ran toward him. They met by the glider. He lifted her up in the air and swung her around and around.

Hilde was crying, and her father had to hold back his tears as well.

“You’ve become a grown woman, Hilde!”

“And you’ve become a real writer.”

Hilde wiped away her tears.

“Shall we say we’re quits?” she asked.

“We’re quits.”

They sat down at the table. First of all Hilde had to have an exact description of everything that had happened at Kastrup and on the way home. They kept bursting out laughing.

“Didn’t you see the envelope in the cafeteria?”

“I didn’t get a chance to sit down and eat anything, you villain. Now I’m ravenous.”

“Poor Dad.”

“The stuff about the turkey was all bluff, then?”

“It certainly was not! I have prepared everything. Mom’s doing the serving.”

Then they had to go over the ring binder and the story of Sophie and Alberto from one end to the other and backwards and forwards.

Mom brought out the turkey and the Waldorf salad, the rose wine and Hilde’s homemade bread.

Her father was just saying something about Plato when Hilde suddenly interrupted him: “Shh!”

“What is it?”

“Didn’t you hear it? Something squeaking?”

“No.”

“I’m sure I heard something. I guess it was just a field mouse.”

While her mother went to get another bottle of wine, her father said: “But the philosophy course isn’t quite over.”

“It isn’t?”

“Tonight I’m going to tell you about the universe.”

Before they began to eat, he said to his wife, “Hilde is too big to sit on my knee any more. But you’re not!” With that he caught Marit round the waist and drew her onto his lap. It was quite a while before she got anything to eat.

“To think you’ll soon be forty ...”

When Hilde jumped up and ran toward her father, Sophie felt her tears welling up. She would never be able to reach her . . .

Sophie was deeply envious of Hilde because she had been created a real person of flesh and blood.