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diff --git a/2943-h/2943-h.htm b/2943-h/2943-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b2d2808 --- /dev/null +++ b/2943-h/2943-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10711 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Great Hunger, by Johan Bojer + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Great Hunger, by Johan Bojer + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Great Hunger + +Author: Johan Bojer + +Release Date: May 30, 2006 [EBook #2943] +Last Updated: November 1, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREAT HUNGER *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE GREAT HUNGER + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Johan Bojer + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated from the Norwegian by + </h3> + <h3> + W. J. Alexander Worster and C. Archer + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <big><b>THE GREAT HUNGER</b></big> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> <b>BOOK I</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> Chapter I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> Chapter II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> Chapter III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> Chapter IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> Chapter V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> Chapter VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> Chapter VII </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> <b>BOOK II</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> Chapter I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> Chapter II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> Chapter III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> Chapter IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> Chapter V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> Chapter VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> Chapter VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> Chapter VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> Chapter IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> Chapter X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> Chapter XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> Chapter XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> Chapter XIII </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> <b>BOOK III</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> Chapter I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> Chapter II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> Chapter III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> Chapter IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> Chapter V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> Chapter VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> Chapter VII </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE GREAT HUNGER + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Book I + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter I + </h2> + <p> + For sheer havoc, there is no gale like a good northwester, when it roars + in, through the long winter evenings, driving the spindrift before it + between the rocky walls of the fjord. It churns the water to a froth of + rushing wave crests, while the boats along the beach are flung in + somersaults up to the doors of the grey fisher huts, and solid old barn + gangways are lifted and sent flying like unwieldy birds over the fields. + “Mercy on us!” cry the maids, for it is milking-time, and they have to + fight their way on hands and knees across the yard to the cowshed, + dragging a lantern that WILL go out and a milk-pail that WON’T be held. + And “Lord preserve us!” mutter the old wives seated round the stove within + doors—and their thoughts are far away in the north with the Lofoten + fishermen, out at sea, maybe, this very night. + </p> + <p> + But on a calm spring day, the fjord just steals in smooth and shining by + ness and bay. And at low water there is a whole wonderland of strange + little islands, sand-banks, and weed-fringed rocks left high and dry, with + clear pools between, where bare-legged urchins splash about, and tiny + flat-fish as big as a halfpenny dart away to every side. The air is filled + with a smell of salt sea-water and warm, wet beach-waste, and the sea-pie, + see-sawing about on a big stone in the water, lifts his red beak cheerily + sunwards and pipes: “Kluip, kluip! the spring has come!” + </p> + <p> + On just such a day, two boys of fourteen or thereabouts came hurrying out + from one of the fishermen’s huts down towards the beach. Boys are never so + busy as when they are up to some piece of mischief, and evidently the pair + had business of this sort in hand. Peer Troen, fair-haired and + sallow-faced, was pushing a wheelbarrow; his companion, Martin Bruvold, a + dark youth with freckles, carried a tub. And both talked mysteriously in + whispers, casting anxious glances out over the water. + </p> + <p> + Peer Troen was, of course, the ringleader. That he always was: the forest + fire of last year was laid at his door. And now he had made it clear to + some of his friends that boys had just as much right to lay out deep-sea + lines as men. All through the winter they had been kept at grown-up work, + cutting peat and carrying wood; why should they be left now to fool about + with the inshore fishing, and bring home nothing better than flounders and + coal-fish and silly codlings? The big deep-sea line they were forbidden to + touch—that was so—but the Lofoten fishery was at its height, + and none of the men would be back till it was over. So the boys had baited + up the line on the sly down at the boathouse the day before, and laid it + out across the deepest part of the fjord. + </p> + <p> + Now the thing about a deep-sea line is that it may bring to the surface + fish so big and so fearsome that the like has never been seen before. + Yesterday, however, there had been trouble of a different sort. To their + dismay, the boys had found that they had not sinkers enough to weight the + shore end of the line; and it looked as if they might have to give up the + whole thing. But Peer, ever ready, had hit on the novel idea of making one + end fast to the trunk of a small fir growing at the outermost point of the + ness, and carrying the line from there out over the open fjord. Then a + stone at the farther end, and with the magic words, “Fie, fish!” it was + paid out overboard, vanishing into the green depths. The deed was done. + True, there were a couple of hooks dangling in mid-air at the shore end, + between the tree and the water, and, while they might serve to catch an + eider duck, or a guillemot, if any one should chance to come rowing past + in the dark and get hung up—why, the boys might find they had made a + human catch. No wonder, then, that they whispered eagerly and hurried down + to the boat. + </p> + <p> + “Here comes Peter Ronningen,” cried Martin suddenly. + </p> + <p> + This was the third member of the crew, a lanky youth with whitish eyebrows + and a foolish face. He stammered, and made a queer noise when he laughed: + “Chee-hee-hee.” Twice he had been turned down in the confirmation classes; + after all, what was the use of learning lessons out of a book when nobody + ever had patience to wait while he said them? + </p> + <p> + Together they ran the boat down to the water’s edge, got it afloat, and + scrambled in, with much waving of patched trouser legs. “Hi!” cried a + voice up on the beach, “let me come too!” + </p> + <p> + “There’s Klaus,” said Martin. “Shall we take him along?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Peter Ronningen. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, let’s,” said Peer. + </p> + <p> + Klaus Brock, the son of the district doctor, was a blue-eyed youngster in + knickerbockers and a sailor blouse. He was playing truant, no doubt—Klaus + had his lessons at home with a private tutor—and would certainly get + a thrashing from his father when he got home. + </p> + <p> + “Hurry up,” called Peer, getting out an oar. Klaus clambered in, and the + white-straked four-oar surged across the bay, rocking a little as the boys + pulled out of stroke. Martin was rowing at the bow, his eyes fixed on + Peer, who sat in the stern in command with his eyes dancing, full of great + things to be done. Martin, poor fellow, was half afraid already; he never + could understand why Peer, who was to be a parson when he grew up, was + always hitting upon things to do that were evidently sinful in the sight + of the Lord. + </p> + <p> + Peer was a town boy, who had been put out to board with a fisherman in the + village. His mother had been no better than she should be, so people said, + but she was dead now, and the father at any rate must be a rich gentleman, + for he sent the boy a present of ten whole crowns every Christmas, so that + Peer always had money in his pocket. Naturally, then, he was looked up to + by the other boys, and took the lead in all things as a chieftain by + right. + </p> + <p> + The boat moved on past the grey rocks, the beach and the huts above it + growing blue and faint in the distance. Up among the distant hills a red + wooden farm-house on its white foundation wall stood out clear. + </p> + <p> + Here was the ness at last, and there stood the fir. Peer climbed up and + loosed the end of the line, while the others leaned over the side, + watching the cord where it vanished in the depths. What would it bring to + light when it came up? + </p> + <p> + “Row!” ordered Peer, and began hauling in. + </p> + <p> + The boat was headed straight out across the fjord, and the long line with + its trailing hooks hauled in and coiled up neatly in the bottom of a + shallow tub. Peer’s heart was beating. There came a tug—the first—and + the faint shimmer of a fish deep down in the water. Pooh! only a big cod. + Peer heaved it in with a careless swing over the gunwale. Next came a ling—a + deep water fish at any rate this time. Then a tusk, and another, and + another; these would please the women, being good eating, and perhaps make + them hold their tongues when the men came home. Now the line jerks + heavily; what is coming? A grey shadow comes in sight. “Here with the + gaff!” cries Peer, and Peter throws it across to him. “What is it, what is + it?” shriek the other three. “Steady! don’t upset the boat; a catfish.” A + stroke of the gaff over the side, and a clumsy grey body is heaved into + the boat, where it rolls about, hissing and biting at the bottom-boards + and baler, the splinters crackling under its teeth. “Mind, mind!” cries + Klaus—he was always nervous in a boat. + </p> + <p> + But Peer was hauling in again. They were nearly half-way across the fjord + by now, and the line came up from mysterious depths, which no fisherman + had ever sounded. The strain on Peer began to show in his looks; the + others sat watching his face. “Is the line heavy?” asked Klaus. “Keep + still, can’t you?” put in Martin, glancing along the slanting line to + where it vanished far below. Peer was still hauling. A sense of something + uncanny seemed to be thrilling up into his hands from the deep sea. The + feel of the line was strange. There was no great weight, not even the + clean tug-tug of an ordinary fish; it was as if a giant hand were pulling + gently, very gently, to draw him overboard and down into the depths. Then + suddenly a violent jerk almost dragged him over the side. + </p> + <p> + “Look out! What is it?” cried the three together. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down in the boat,” shouted Peer. And with the true fisherman’s sense + of discipline they obeyed. + </p> + <p> + Peer was gripping the line firmly with one hand, the other clutching one + of the thwarts. “Have we another gaff?” he jerked out breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s one.” Peter Ronningen pulled out a second iron-hooked cudgel. + </p> + <p> + “You take it, Martin, and stand by.” + </p> + <p> + “But what—what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t know what it is. But it’s something big.” + </p> + <p> + “Cut the line, and row for your lives!” wailed the doctor’s son. Strange + he should be such a coward at sea, a fellow who’d tackle a man twice his + size on dry land. + </p> + <p> + Once more Peer was jerked almost overboard. He thought of the forest fire + the year before—it would never do to have another such mishap on his + shoulders. Suppose the great monster did come up and capsize them—they + were ever so far from land. What a to do there would be if they were all + drowned, and it came out that it was his fault. Involuntarily he felt for + his knife to cut the line—then thrust it back again, and went on + hauling. + </p> + <p> + Here it comes—a great shadow heaving up through the water. The huge + beast flings itself round, sending a flurry of bubbles to the surface. And + there!—a gleam of white; a row of great white teeth on the + underside. Aha! now he knows what it is! The Greenland shark is the + fiercest monster of the northern seas, quite able to make short work of a + few boys or so. + </p> + <p> + “Steady now, Martin—ready with the gaff.” + </p> + <p> + The brute was wallowing on the surface now, the water boiling around him. + His tail lashed the sea to foam, a big, pointed head showed up, squirming + under the hook. “Now!” cried Peer, and two gaffs struck at the same + moment, the boat heeled over, letting in a rush of water, and Klaus, + dropping his oars, sprang into the bow, with a cry of “Jesus, save us!” + </p> + <p> + Next second a heavy body, big as a grown man, was heaved in over the + gunwale, and two boys were all but shot out the other way. And now the fun + began. The boys loosed their hold of the gaffs, and sprang apart to give + the creature room. There it lay raging, the great black beast of prey, + with its sharp threatening snout and wicked red eyes ablaze. The strong + tail lashed out, hurling oars and balers overboard, the long teeth snapped + at the bottom-boards and thwarts. Now and again it would leap high up in + the air, only to fall back again, writhing furiously, hissing and spitting + and frothing at the mouth, its red eyes glaring from one to another of the + terrified captors, as if saying: “Come on—just a little nearer!” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Martin Bruvold was in terror that the shark would smash the + boat to pieces. He drew his knife and took a step forward—a flash in + the air, and the steel went in deep between the back fins, sending up a + spurt of blood. “Look out!” cried the others, but Martin had already + sprung back out of reach of the black tail. And now the dance of death + began anew. The knife was fixed to the grip in the creature’s back; one + gaff had buried its hook between the eyes, and another hung on the flank—the + wooden shafts were flung this way and that at every bound, and the boat’s + frame shook and groaned under the blows. + </p> + <p> + “She’ll smash the boat and we’ll go to the bottom,” cried Peer. + </p> + <p> + And now HIS knife flashed out and sent a stream of blood spouting from + between the shoulders, but the blow cost him his foothold—and in a + moment the two bodies were rolling over and over together in the bottom of + the boat. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lord Jesus!” shrieked Klaus, clinging to the stempost. “She’ll kill + him! She’ll kill him!” + </p> + <p> + Peer was half up now, on his knees, but as he reached out a hand to grasp + the side, the brute’s jaws seized on his arm. The boy’s face was contorted + with pain—another moment and the sharp teeth would have bitten + through, when, swift as thought, Peter Ronningen dropped his oars and sent + his knife straight in between the beast’s eyes. The blade pierced through + to the brain, and the grip of the teeth relaxed. + </p> + <p> + “C-c-cursed d-d-devil!” stammered Peter, as he scrambled back to his oars. + Another moment, and Peer had dragged himself clear and was kneeling by the + forward thwart, holding the ragged sleeve of his wounded arm, while the + blood trickled through his fingers. + </p> + <p> + When at last they were pulling homeward, the little boat overloaded with + the weight of the great carcase, all at once they stopped rowing. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Klaus?” asked Peer—for the doctor’s son was gone from + where he had sat, clinging to the stem. + </p> + <p> + “Why—there he is—in the bottom!” + </p> + <p> + There lay the big lout of fifteen, who already boasted of his + love-affairs, learned German, and was to be a gentleman like his father—there + he lay on the bottom-boards in the bow in a dead faint. + </p> + <p> + The others were frightened at first, but Peer, who was sitting washing his + wounded arm, took a dipper full of water and flung it in the unconscious + one’s face. The next instant Klaus had started up sitting, caught wildly + at the gunwale, and shrieked out: + </p> + <p> + “Cut the line, and row for your lives!” + </p> + <p> + A roar of laughter went up from the rest; they dropped their oars and sat + doubled up and gasping. But on the beach, before going home, they agreed + to say nothing about Klaus’s fainting fit. And for weeks afterwards the + four scamps’ exploit was the talk of the village, so that they felt there + was not much fear of their getting the thrashing they deserved when the + men came home. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter II + </h2> + <p> + When Peer, as quite a little fellow, had been sent to live with the old + couple at Troen, he had already passed several times from one adopted home + to another, though this he did not remember. He was one of the madcaps of + the village now, but it was not long since he had been a solitary child, + moping apart from the rest. Why did people always say “Poor child!” + whenever they were speaking about his real mother? Why did they do it? + Why, even Peter Ronningen, when he was angry, would stammer out: “You + ba-ba-bastard!” But Peer called the pock-marked good-wife at Troen + “mother” and her bandy-legged husband “father,” and lent the old man a + hand wherever he was wanted—in the smithy or in the boats at the + fishing. + </p> + <p> + His childhood was passed among folk who counted it sinful to smile, and + whose minds were gloomy as the grey sea-fog with poverty, psalm-singing, + and the fear of hell. + </p> + <p> + One day, coming home from his work at the peat bog, he found the elders + snuffling and sighing over their afternoon meal. Peer wiped the sweat from + his forehead, and asked what was the matter. + </p> + <p> + The eldest son shoved a spoonful of porridge into his mouth, wiped his + eyes, swallowed, and said: “Poor Peer!” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, poor little chap,” sighed the old man, thrusting his horn spoon into + a crack in the wall that served as a rack. + </p> + <p> + “Neither father nor mother now,” whimpered the eldest daughter, looking + over to the window. + </p> + <p> + “Mother? Is she—” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, dearie, yes,” sighed the old woman. “She’s gone for sure—gone + to meet her Judge.” + </p> + <p> + Later, as the day went on, Peer tried to cry too. The worst thing of all + was that every one in the house seemed so perfectly certain where his + mother had gone to. And to heaven it certainly was not. But how could they + be so sure about it? + </p> + <p> + Peer had seen her only once, one summer’s day when she had come out to see + the place. She wore a light dress and a big straw hat, and he thought he + had never seen anything so beautiful before. She made no secret of it + among the neighbours that Peer was not her only child; there was a little + girl, too, named Louise, who was with some folks away up in the inland + parishes. She was in high spirits, and told risky stories and sang songs + by no means sacred. The old people shook their heads over her—the + younger ones watched her with sidelong glances. And when she left, she + kissed Peer, and turned round more than once to look back at him, flushed + under her big hat, and smiling; and it seemed to Peer that she must surely + be the loveliest creature in all the world. + </p> + <p> + But now—now she had gone to a place where the ungodly dwell in such + frightful torment, and no hope of salvation for her through all eternity—and + Peer all the while could only think of her in a light dress and a big + straw hat, all song and happy laughter. + </p> + <p> + Then came the question: Who was to pay for the boy now? True, his + baptismal certificate said that he had a father—his name was Holm, + and he lived in Christiania—but, from what the mother had said, it + was understood that he had disappeared long ago. What was to be done with + the boy? + </p> + <p> + Never till now had Peer rightly understood that he was a stranger here, + for all that he called the old couple father and mother. + </p> + <p> + He lay awake night after night up in the loft, listening to the talk about + him going on in the room below—the good-wife crying and saying: “No, + no!”, the others saying how hard the times were, and that Peer was quite + old enough now to be put to service as a goat-herd on some up-country + farm. + </p> + <p> + Then Peer would draw the skin-rug up over his head. But often, when one of + the elders chanced to be awake at night, he could hear some one in the + loft sobbing in his sleep. In the daytime he took up as little room as he + could at the table, and ate as little as humanly possible; but every + morning he woke up in fear that to-day—to-day he would have to bid + the old foster-mother farewell and go out among strangers. + </p> + <p> + Then something new and unheard of plumped down into the little cottage by + the fjord. + </p> + <p> + There came a registered letter with great dabs of sealing-wax all over it, + and a handwriting so gentlemanly as to be almost unreadable. Every one + crowded round the eldest son to see it opened—and out fell five + ten-crown notes. “Mercy on us!” they cried in amazement, and “Can it be + for us?” The next thing was to puzzle out what was written in the letter. + And who should that turn out to be from but—no other than Peer’s + father, though he did not say it in so many words. “Be good to the boy,” + the letter said. “You will receive fifty crowns from me every half-year. + See that he gets plenty to eat and goes dry and well shod. Faithfully + your, P. Holm, Captain.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Peer—he’s—he’s—Your father’s a captain, an + officer,” stammered the eldest girl, and fell back a step to stare at the + boy. + </p> + <p> + “And we’re to get twice as much for him as before,” said the son, holding + the notes fast and gazing up at the ceiling, as if he were informing + Heaven of the fact. + </p> + <p> + But the old wife was thinking of something else as she folded her hands in + thankfulness—now she needn’t lose the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Properly fed!” No need to fear for that. Peer had treacle with his + porridge that very day, though it was only a week-day. And the eldest son + gave him a pair of stockings, and made him sit down and put them on then + and there; and the same night, when he went to bed, the eldest girl came + and tucked him up in a new skin-rug, not quite so hairless as the old one. + His father a captain! It seemed too wonderful to be true. + </p> + <p> + From that day times were changed for Peer. People looked at him with very + different eyes. No one said “Poor boy” of him now. The other boys left off + calling him bad names; the grown-ups said he had a future before him. + “You’ll see,” they would say, “that father of yours will get you on; + you’ll be a parson yet, ay, maybe a bishop, too.” At Christmas, there came + a ten-crown note all for himself, to do just as he liked with. Peer + changed it into silver, so that his purse was near bursting with + prosperity. No wonder he began to go about with his nose in the air, and + play the little prince and chieftain among the boys. Even Klaus Brock, the + doctor’s son, made up to him, and taught him to play cards. But—“You + surely don’t mean to go and be a parson,” he would say. + </p> + <p> + For all this, no one could say that Peer was too proud to help with the + fishing, or make himself useful in the smithy. But when the sparks flew + showering from the glowing iron, he could not help seeing visions of his + own—visions that flew out into the future. Aye, he WOULD be a + priest. He might be a sinner now, and a wild young scamp; he certainly did + curse and swear like a trooper at times, if only to show the other boys + that it was all nonsense about the earth opening and swallowing you up. + But a priest he would be, all the same. None of your parsons with + spectacles and a pot belly: no, but a sort of heavenly messenger with + snowy white robes and a face of glory. Perhaps some day he might even come + so far that he could go down into that place of torment where his mother + lay, and bring her up again, up to salvation. And when, in autumn + evenings, he stood outside his palace, a white-haired bishop, he would + lift up his finger, and all the stars should break into song. + </p> + <p> + Clang, clang, sang the anvil under the hammer’s beat. + </p> + <p> + In the still summer evenings a troop of boys go climbing up the naked + slopes towards the high wooded ranges to fetch home the cows for the + milking. The higher they climb, the farther and farther their sight can + travel out over the sea. And an hour or two later, as the sun goes down, + here comes a long string of red-flanked cattle trailing down, with a faint + jangle of bells, over the far-off ridges. The boys halloo them on—“Ohoo-oo-oo!”—and + swing their ringed rowan staves, and spit red juice of the alder bark that + they are chewing as men chew tobacco. Far below them they see the farm + lands, grey in shadow, and, beyond, the waters of the fjord, yellow in the + evening light, a mirror where red clouds and white sails and hills of + liquid blue are shining. And away out on the farthest headland, the lonely + star of the coast light over the grey sea. + </p> + <p> + On such an evening Peer came down from the hills just in time to see a + gentleman in a carriole turn off from the highway and take the by-road + down towards Troen. The horse balked suddenly at a small bridge, and when + the driver reined him in and gave him a cut with his whip, the beast + reared, swung about, and sent the cart fairly dancing round on its high + wheels. “Oh, well, then, I’ll have to walk,” cried the gentleman angrily, + and, flinging the reins to the lad behind him, he jumped down. Just at + this moment Peer came up. + </p> + <p> + “Here, boy,” began the traveller, “just take this bag, will you? And—” + He broke off suddenly, took a step backward, and looked hard at the boy. + “What—surely it can’t be—Is it you, Peer?” + </p> + <p> + “Ye-es,” said Peer, gaping a little, and took off his cap. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, that’s funny. My name is Holm. Well, well—well, well!” + </p> + <p> + The lad in the cart had driven off, and the gentleman from the city and + the pale country boy with the patched trousers stood looking at each + other. + </p> + <p> + The newcomer was a man of fifty or so, but still straight and active, + though his hair and close-trimmed beard were sprinkled with grey. His eyes + twinkled gaily under the brim of his black felt hat; his long overcoat was + open, showing a gold chain across his waistcoat. With a pair of gloves and + an umbrella in one hand, a light travelling bag in the other, and his + beautifully polished shoes—a grand gentleman, thought Peer, if ever + there was one. And this was his father! + </p> + <p> + “So that’s how you look, my boy? Not very big for your age—nearly + sixteen now, aren’t you? Do they give you enough to eat?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Peer, with conviction. + </p> + <p> + The pair walked down together, towards the grey cottage by the fjord. + Suddenly the man stopped, and looked at it through half-shut eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Is that where you’ve been living all these years?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “In that little hut there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. That’s the place—Troen they call it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that wall there bulges so, I should think the whole affair would + collapse soon.” + </p> + <p> + Peer tried to laugh at this, but felt something like a lump in his throat. + It hurt to hear fine folks talk like that of father and mother’s little + house. + </p> + <p> + There was a great flurry when the strange gentleman appeared in the + doorway. The old wife was kneading away at the dough for a cake, the front + of her all white with flour; the old man sat with his spectacles on, + patching a shoe, and the two girls sprang up from their spinning wheels. + “Well, here I am. My name’s Holm,” said the traveller, looking round and + smiling. “Mercy on us! the Captain his own self,” murmured the old woman, + wiping her hands on her skirt. + </p> + <p> + He was an affable gentleman, and soon set them all at their ease. He sat + down in the seat of honour, drumming with his fingers on the table, and + talking easily as if quite at home. One of the girls had been in service + for a while in a Consul’s family in the town, and knew the ways of + gentlefolk, and she fetched a bowl of milk and offered it with a curtsy + and a: “Will the Captain please to take some milk?” “Thanks, thanks,” said + the visitor. “And what is your name, my dear? Come, there’s nothing to + blush about. Nicoline? First-rate! And you? Lusiana? That’s right.” He + looked at the red-rimmed basin, and, taking it up, all but emptied it at a + draught, then, wiping his beard, took breath. “Phu!—that was good. + Well, so here I am.” And he looked around the room and at each of them in + turn, and smiled, and drummed with his fingers, and said, “Well, well—well, + well,” and seemed much amused with everything in general. “By the way, + Nicoline,” he said suddenly, “since you’re so well up in titles, I’m not + ‘Captain’ any more now; they’ve sent me up this way as Lieutenant-Colonel, + and my wife has just had a house left her in your town here, so we may be + coming to settle down in these parts. And perhaps you’d better send + letters to me through a friend in future. But we can talk about all that + by and by. Well, well—well, well.” And all the time he was drumming + with his fingers on the table and smiling. Peer noticed that he wore gold + sleeve-links and a fine gold stud in his broad white shirt-front. + </p> + <p> + And then a little packet was produced. “Hi, Peer, come and look; here’s + something for you.” And the “something” was nothing less than a real + silver watch—and Peer was quite unhappy for the moment because he + couldn’t dash off at once and show it to all the other boys. “There’s a + father for you,” said the old wife, clapping her hands, and almost in + tears. But the visitor patted her on the shoulder. “Father? father? H’m—that’s + not a thing any one can be so sure about. Hahaha!” And “hahaha” echoed the + old man, still sitting with the awl in his hand. This was the sort of joke + he could appreciate. + </p> + <p> + Then the visitor went out and strolled about the place, with his hands + under his coat tails, and looked at the sky, and the fjord, and murmured, + “Well, well—well, well,” and Peer followed him about all the while, + and gazed at him as he might have gazed at a star. He was to sleep in a + neighbour’s house, where there was a room that had a bed with sheets on + it, and Peer went across with him and carried his bag. It was Martin + Bruvold’s parents who were to house the traveller, and people stood round + staring at the place. Martin himself was waiting outside. “This a friend + of yours, Peer? Here, then, my boy, here’s something to buy a big farm + with.” This time it was a five-crown note, and Martin stood fingering it, + hardly able to believe his eyes. Peer’s father was something like a + father. + </p> + <p> + It was a fine thing, too, to see a grand gentleman undress. “I’ll have + things like that some day,” thought Peer, watching each new wonder that + came out of the bag. There was a silver-backed brush, that he brushed his + hair and beard with, walking up and down in his underclothes and humming + to himself. And then there was another shirt, with red stripes round the + collar, just to wear in bed. Peer nodded to himself, taking it all in. And + when the stranger was in bed he took out a flask with a silver cork, that + screwed off and turned into a cup, and had a dram for a nightcap; and then + he reached for a long pipe with a beaded cord, and when it was drawing + well he stretched himself out comfortably and smiled at Peer. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, my boy—are you getting on well at school?” + </p> + <p> + Peer put his hands behind him and set one foot forward. “Yes—he says + so—teacher does.” + </p> + <p> + “How much is twelve times twelve?” + </p> + <p> + That was a stumper! Peer hadn’t got beyond ten times ten. + </p> + <p> + “Do they teach you gymnastics at the school?” + </p> + <p> + “Gym—? What’s that?” + </p> + <p> + “Jumping and vaulting and climbing ropes and drilling in squads—what?” + </p> + <p> + “But isn’t it—isn’t that wicked?” + </p> + <p> + “Wicked! Hahaha! Wicked, did you say? So that’s the way they look at + things here, is it? Well, well—well, well! Hahaha! Hand me that + matchbox, my boy. H’m!” He puffed away for a while in silence. Then, + suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “See here, boy. Did you know you’d a little sister?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Half-sister, that is to say. I didn’t quite know how it was myself. But I + may as well tell you, my boy, that I paid the same for you all along, the + same as now. Only I sent the money by your mother, and she—well, + she, poor girl, had another one to look after, and no father to pay for + it. So she made my money do for both. Hahaha! Well, poor girl, we can’t + blame her for that. Anyhow, we’ll have to look after that little + half-sister of yours now, I suppose, till she grows up. Don’t you think so + yourself?” + </p> + <p> + Peer felt the tears coming. Think so!—indeed he did. + </p> + <p> + Next day Peer’s father went away. He stood there, ready to start, in the + living-room at Troen, stiff felt hat and overcoat and all, and said, in a + tone like the sheriff’s when he gives out a public notice at the church + door: + </p> + <p> + “And, by the way, you’re to have the boy confirmed this year.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to be sure we will,” the old mother hastened to say. + </p> + <p> + “Then I wish him to be properly dressed, like the best of the other + youngsters. And there’s fifty crowns for him to give the school-teacher + and the parson as a parting gift.” He handed over some more notes. + </p> + <p> + “Afterwards,” he went on, “I mean, of course, to look after him until he + can make his own way in a respectable position. But first we must see what + he has a turn for, and what he’d like to be himself. He’d better come to + town and talk it over with me—but I’ll write and arrange all that + after he’s confirmed. Then in case anything unexpected should happen to + me, there’s some money laid by for him in a savings bank account; he can + apply to a friend of mine, who knows all about it. Well, good-bye, and + very many thanks!” + </p> + <p> + And the great man smiled to right and left, and shook them all by the + hand, and waved his hat and was gone. + </p> + <p> + For the next few days Peer walked on air, and found it hard to keep his + footing at all on the common earth. People were for ever filling his head + with talk about that savings bank account—it might be only a few + thousands of crowns—but then again, it might run up to a million. A + million! and here he was, eating herrings for dinner, and talking to Tom, + Dick, and Harry just like any one else. A million crowns! + </p> + <p> + Late in the autumn came the confirmation, and the old wooden church, with + its tarred walls, nestled among its mighty tree-tops, sent its chimes + ringing and ringing out into the blue autumn air. It seemed to Peer like + some kindly old grandmother, calling so lovingly: “Come, come—old + and young—old and young—from fjord and valley—northways + and southways; come, come—this day of all days—this day of all + days—come, come, come!” So it had stood, ringing out the chimes for + one generation after another through hundreds of years, and now it is + calling to us. And the young folks are there, looking at one another in + their new clothes, and blowing their noses on clean white handkerchiefs, + so carefully folded. There comes Peter Ronningen, passed by good luck this + year, but forced to turn out in a jacket borrowed from Peer, as the tailor + wasn’t ready with his own new things. The boys say “how-do-you-do” and try + to smile like grown-up folks. One or two of them may have some little + account dating from old school-fights waiting to be settled—but, + never mind—just as well to forget old scores now. Peer caught sight + of Johan Koja, who stole a pencil from him last summer, but, after all, + even that didn’t seem worth making a fuss about. “Well, how’ve you been + getting on since last summer?” they ask each other, as they move together + up the stone steps to the big church door, through which the peal of the + organ comes rolling out to meet them. + </p> + <p> + How good it seems, and how kind, the little church, where all you see bids + you welcome! Through the stained-glass windows with their tiny leaded + panes falls a light so soft that even poor ugly faces seem beautiful. The + organ tones are the very light itself turned into sweet sound. On one side + of the nave you can see all the boys’ heads, sleek with water; on the + other the little mothers to be, in grown-up dress to-day for the first + time, kerchief on head and hymn-book in hand, and with careful faces. And + now they all sing. The elder folks have taken their places farther back + to-day, but they join in, looking up now and again from the book to those + young heads in front, and wondering how they will fare in life. And the + young folk themselves are thinking as they sing, “To-day is the beginning + of new things. Play and frolic are over and done with; from today we’re + grown-up.” But the church and all in it seemed to say: “If ever you are in + heavy trouble, come hither to me.” Just look at that altar-piece there—the + wood-carvings are a whole Bible in themselves—but Moses with the + Tables of the Law is gentle of face to-day; you can see he means no harm + after all. St. Peter, with the keys, pointing upwards, looks like a kind + old uncle, bringing something good home from market. And then the angels + on the walls, pictured or carved in wood, have borrowed the voice of the + organ and the tones of the hymn, and they widen out the vaulted roof into + the dome of heaven; while light and song and worshippers melt together and + soar upwards toward the infinite spaces. + </p> + <p> + Peer was thinking all the time: I don’t care if I’m rich as rich, I WILL + be a priest. And then perhaps with all my money I can build a church that + no one ever saw the like of. And the first couple I’ll marry there shall + be Martin Bruvold and little sister Louise—if only he’ll have her. + Just wait and see! + </p> + <p> + A few days later he wrote to his father, asking if he might come into town + now and go to school. A long time passed, and then at last a letter came + in a strange hand-writing, and all the grown folks at Troen came together + again to read it. But what was their amazement when they read: + </p> + <p> + “You will possibly have learned by now from the newspapers that your + benefactor, Colonel Holm, has met his death by a fall from a horse. I must + therefore request you to call on me personally at your earliest + convenience, as I have several matters to settle with you. Yours + faithfully, J. Grundt, Senior Master.” + </p> + <p> + They stood and looked at one another. + </p> + <p> + Peer was crying—chiefly, it must be admitted, at the thought of + having to bid good-bye to all the Troen folks and the two cows, and the + calf, and the grey cat. He might have to go right on to Christiania, no + later than to-morrow—to go to school there; and when he came back—why, + very likely the old mother might not be there any more. + </p> + <p> + So all three of them were heavy-hearted, when the pock-marked good-wife, + and the bow-legged old man, came down with him to the pier. And soon he + was standing on the deck of the fjord steamer, gazing at the two figures + growing smaller and smaller on the shore. And then one hut after another + in the little hamlet disappeared behind the ness—Troen itself was + gone now—and the hills and the woods where he had cut ring staves + and searched for stray cattle—swiftly all known things drew away and + vanished, until at last the whole parish was gone, and his childhood over. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter III + </h2> + <p> + As evening fell, he saw a multitude of lights spread out on every side far + ahead in the darkness. And next, with his little wooden chest on his + shoulder, he was finding his way up through the streets by the quay to a + lodging-house for country folk, which he knew from former visits, when he + had come to the town with the Lofoten boats. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, clad in his country homespun, he marched up along River + Street, over the bridge, and up the hill to the villa quarter, where he + had to ask the way. At last he arrived outside a white-painted wooden + house standing back in a garden. Here was the place—the place where + his fate was to be decided. After the country fashion he walked in at the + kitchen door. + </p> + <p> + A stout servant maid in a big white apron was rattling the rings of the + kitchen range into place; there was a pleasing smell of coffee and good + things to eat. Suddenly a door opened, and a figure in a dressing-gown + appeared—a tall red-haired man with gold spectacles astride on a + long red nose, his thick hair and scrubby little moustaches touched with + grey. He gasped once or twice and then started sneezing—hoc-hoc-put-putsch!—wiped + his nose with a large pocket-handkerchief, and grumbled out: “Ugh!—this + wretched cold—can’t get rid of it. How about my socks, Bertha, my + good girl; do you think they are quite dry now?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve had them hung up ever since I lit the fire this morning,” said the + girl, tossing her head. + </p> + <p> + “But who is this young gentleman, may I ask?” The gold spectacles were + turned full on Peer, who rose and bowed. + </p> + <p> + “Said he wanted to speak to you, sir,” put in the maid. + </p> + <p> + “Ah. From the country, I see. Have you anything to sell, my lad?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Peer. He had had a letter. . . . + </p> + <p> + The red head seemed positively frightened at this—and the + dressing-gown faltered backwards, as if to find support. He cast a hurried + glance at the girl, and then beckoned with a long fore-finger to Peer. + “Yes, yes, perfectly so. Be so good as to come this way, my lad.” + </p> + <p> + Peer found himself in a room with rows of books all round the walls, and a + big writing-table in the centre. “Sit down, my boy.” The schoolmaster went + and picked out a long pipe, and filled it, clearing his throat nervously, + with an occasional glance at the boy. “H’m—so this is you. This is + Peer—h’m.” He lit his pipe and puffed a little, found himself again + obliged to sneeze—but at last settled down in a chair at the + writing-table, stretched out his long legs, and puffed away again. + </p> + <p> + “So that’s what you look like?” With a quick movement he reached for a + photograph in a frame. Peer caught a glimpse of his father in uniform. The + schoolmaster lifted his spectacles, stared at the picture, then let down + his spectacles again and fell to scrutinising Peer’s face. There was a + silence for a while, and then he said: “Ah, indeed—I see—h’m.” + Then turning to Peer: + </p> + <p> + “Well, my lad, it was very sudden—your benefactor’s end—most + unexpected. He is to be buried to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Benefactor?” thought Peer. “Why doesn’t he say ‘your father’?” + </p> + <p> + The schoolmaster was gazing at the window. “He informed me some time ago + of—h’m—of all the—all the benefits he had conferred on + you—h’m! And he begged me to keep an eye on you myself in case + anything happened to him. And now”—the spectacles swung round + towards Peer—“now you are starting out in life by yourself, hey?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Peer, shifting a little in his seat. + </p> + <p> + “You will have to decide now what walk in life you are to—er—devote + yourself to.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Peer again, sitting up straighter. + </p> + <p> + “You would perhaps like to be a fisherman—like the good people + you’ve been brought up among?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” Peer shook his head disdainfully. Was this man trying to make a fool + of him? + </p> + <p> + “Some trade, then, perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then I suppose it’s to be America. Well, you will easily find company + to go with. Such numbers are going nowadays—I am sorry to say. . . + .” + </p> + <p> + Peer pulled himself together. “Oh, no, not that at all.” Better get it out + at once. “I wish to be a priest,” he said, speaking with a careful town + accent. + </p> + <p> + The schoolmaster rose from his seat, holding his long pipe up in the air + in one hand, and pressing his ear forward with the other, as though to + hear better. “What?—what did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “A priest,” repeated Peer, but he moved behind his chair as he spoke, for + it looked as if the schoolmaster might fling the pipe at his head. + </p> + <p> + But suddenly the red face broke into a smile, exposing such an array of + greenish teeth as Peer had never seen before. Then he said in a sort of + singsong, nodding: “A priest? Oh, indeed! Quite a small matter!” He rose + and wandered once or twice up and down the room, then stopped, nodded, and + said in a fatherly tone—to one of the bookshelves: “H’m—really—really—we’re + a little ambitious, are we not?” + </p> + <p> + He turned on Peer suddenly. “Look here, my young friend—don’t you + think your benefactor has been quite generous enough to you already?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed he has,” said Peer, his voice beginning to tremble a little. + </p> + <p> + “There are thousands of boys in your position who are thrown out in the + world after confirmation and left to shift for themselves, without a soul + to lend them a helping hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” gasped Peer, looking round involuntarily towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t understand—who can have put these wild ideas into your + head?” + </p> + <p> + With an effort Peer managed to get out: “It’s always been what I wanted. + And he—father—” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Father—? Do you mean your benefactor?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he was my father, wasn’t he?” burst out Peer. + </p> + <p> + The schoolmaster tottered back and sank into a chair, staring at Peer as + if he thought him a quite hopeless subject. At last he recovered so far as + to say: “Look here, my lad, don’t you think you might be content to call + him—now and for the future—just your benefactor? Don’t you + think he deserves it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” whispered Peer, almost in tears. + </p> + <p> + “You are thinking, of course—you and those who have put all this + nonsense into your head—of the money which he—h’m—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—isn’t there a savings bank account—?” + </p> + <p> + “Aha! There we are! Yes, indeed. There is a savings bank account—in + my care.” He rose, and hunted out from a drawer a small green-covered + book. Peer could not take his eyes from it. “Here it is. The sum entered + here to your account amounts to eighteen hundred crowns.” + </p> + <p> + Crash! Peer felt as if he had fallen through the floor into the cellarage. + All his dreams vanished into thin air—the million crowns—priest + and bishop—Christiania—and all the rest. + </p> + <p> + “On the day when you are in a fair way to set up independently as an + artisan, a farmer, or a fisherman—and when you seem to me, to the + best of my judgment, to deserve such help—then and not till then I + place this book at your disposal. Do you understand what I say?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I am perfectly sure that I am in full agreement with the wishes of the + donor in deciding that the money must remain untouched in my safe keeping + until then.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” whispered Peer. + </p> + <p> + “What?—are you crying?” + </p> + <p> + “N-no. Good-morning—” + </p> + <p> + “No, pray don’t go yet. Sit down. There are one or two things we must get + settled at once. First of all—you must trust me, my good boy. Do you + believe that I wish you well, or do you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it is agreed that all these fancies about going to college and so + forth must be driven out of your head once for all?” + </p> + <p> + “Y-yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You can see yourself that, even supposing you had the mental + qualifications, such a sum, generous as it is in itself, would not suffice + to carry you far.” + </p> + <p> + “No-no, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “On the other hand, if you wish it, I will gladly arrange to get you an + apprentice’s place with a good handicraftsman here. You would have free + board there, and—well, if you should want clothes the first year or + so, I dare say we could manage that. You will be better without + pocket-money to fling about until you can earn it for yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Peer sighed, and drooped as he stood. When he saw the green-backed book + locked into its drawer again, and heard the keys rattle as they went back + into a pocket under the dressing-gown, he felt as if some one were + pointing a jeering finger at him, and saying, “Yah!” + </p> + <p> + “Then there’s another thing. About your name. What name have you thought + of taking, my lad—surname, I mean?” + </p> + <p> + “My name is Peer Holm!” said the boy, instinctively drawing himself up as + he had done when the bishop had patted his head at the confirmation and + asked his name. + </p> + <p> + The schoolmaster pursed up his lips, took off his spectacles and wiped + them, put them on again, and turned to the bookshelves with a sigh. “Ah, + indeed!—yes—yes—I almost thought as much.” + </p> + <p> + Then he came forward and laid a hand kindly on Peer’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy—that is out of the question.” + </p> + <p> + A shiver went through Peer. Had he done something wrong again? + </p> + <p> + “See here, my boy—have you considered that there may be others of + that name in this same place?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—but—” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute—and that you would occasion these—others—the + deepest pain and distress if it should become known that—well, how + matters stand. You see, I am treating you as a grown-up man—a + gentleman. And I feel sure you would not wish to inflict a great sorrow—a + crushing blow—upon a widow and her innocent children. There, there, + my boy, there’s nothing to cry about. Life, my young friend, life has + troubles that must be faced. What is the name of the farm, or house, where + you have lived up to now?” + </p> + <p> + “T—Troen.” + </p> + <p> + “Troen—a very good name indeed. Then from to-day on you will call + yourself Peer Troen.” + </p> + <p> + “Y-yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And if any one should ask about your father, remember that you are bound + in honour and conscience not to mention your benefactor’s name.” + </p> + <p> + “Y-yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, as soon as you have made up your mind, come at once and let + me know. We shall be great friends yet, you will see. You’re sure you + wouldn’t like to try America? Well, well, come along out to the kitchen + and see if we can find you some breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + Peer found himself a moment after sitting on a chair in the kitchen, where + there was such a good smell of coffee. “Bertha,” said the schoolmaster + coaxingly, “you’ll find something good for breakfast for my young friend + here, won’t you?” He waved a farewell with his hand, took down his socks + from a string above the stove, and disappeared through the door again. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter IV + </h2> + <p> + When a country boy in blue homespun, with a peaked cap on his blond head, + goes wandering at random through the streets of a town, it is no + particular concern of any one else. He moves along, gazing in at shop + windows, hands deep in his pockets, whistling, looking at everything + around him—or at nothing at all. And yet—perhaps in the head + under that peaked cap it seems as if a whole little world had suddenly + collapsed, and he may be whistling hard to keep from crying in the streets + for people to see. He steps aside to avoid a cart, and runs into a man, + who drops his cigar in the gutter. “Confounded country lout!” says the man + angrily, but passes on and has forgotten boy and all the next moment. But + a little farther on a big dog comes dashing out of a yard and unluckily + upsets a fat old woman on the pavement, and the boy with the peaked cap, + for all his troubles, cannot help doubling up and roaring with laughter. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon, Peer sat on one of the ramparts below the fortress, biting + at a stalk of grass, and twirling the end in his fingers. Below him lay + town and fjord in the mild October sunlight; the rumble of traffic, the + noises from workshops and harbour, came up to him through the rust-brown + luminous haze. There he sat, while the sentry on the wall above marched + back and forth, with his rifle on his shoulder, left—right—left. + </p> + <p> + You may climb very high up indeed, and fall down very deep, and no such + terrible harm done after all, as long as you don’t absolutely break your + neck. And gradually Peer began to realise that he was still alive, after + all. It is a bad business when the world goes against you, even though you + may have some one to turn to for advice and sympathy. But when all the + people round you are utter strangers, there is nothing to be done but sit + down and twirl a straw, and think things out a bit for yourself. Peer’s + thoughts were of a thing in a long dressing-gown that had taken his bank + book and locked it up and rattled the keys at him and said “Yah!” and + deposed him from his bishopric and tried to sneeze and squeeze him into a + trade, where he’d have to carry a pressing-iron all his life and be Peer + Troen, Tailor. But he wouldn’t have that. He sat there bracing himself up, + and trying to gather together from somewhere a thing he had never had much + need of before—to wit, a will of his own, something to set up + against the whole wide world. What was he to do now? He felt he would like + to go back to Troen first of all, and talk things over with the old father + and mother; they would be sorry for him there, and say “Poor boy,” and + pray for him—but after a day or two, he knew, they would begin to + glance at him at meals, and remember that there was no one to pay for him + now, and that times were hard. No, that was no refuge for him now. But + what could he do, then? Clearly it was not such a simple matter to be all + alone in the world. + </p> + <p> + A little later he found himself on a hillside by the Cathedral churchyard, + sitting under the yellowing trees, and wondering dreamily where his father + was to be buried. What a difference between him and that schoolmaster man! + No preaching with him; no whining about what his boy might call himself or + might not. Why must he go and die? + </p> + <p> + It was strange to think of that fine strong man, who had brushed his hair + and beard so carefully with his silver-backed brush—to think that he + was lying still in a coffin now, and would soon be covered up with earth. + </p> + <p> + People were coming up the hill now, and passing in to the churchyard. The + men wore black clothes and tall shiny hats—but there were some + officers too, with plumes and sashes. And then a regimental band—with + its brass instruments. Peer slipped into the churchyard with the crowd, + but kept apart from the rest, and took up his stand a little way off, + beside a big monument. “It must be father’s funeral,” he thought to + himself, and was broad awake at once. + </p> + <p> + This, he guessed, must be the Cadet School, that came marching in, and + formed up in two lines from the mortuary chapel to the open grave. The + place was nearly full of people now; there were women holding + handkerchiefs to their eyes, and an elderly lady in black went into the + chapel, on the arm of a tall man in uniform. “That must be father’s wife,” + thought Peer, “and the young ladies there in black are—my + half-sisters, and that young lieutenant—my half-brother.” How + strange it all was! A sound of singing came from the chapel. And a little + later six sergeants came out, carrying a coffin all heaped with flowers. + “Present arms!” And the soldiers presented, and the band played a slow + march and moved off in front of the coffin, between the two lines of + soldiers. And then came a great following of mourners. The lady in black + came out again, sobbing behind her handkerchief, and hardly able to + follow, though she clung to the tall officer’s arm. But in front of the + pair, just behind the coffin itself, walked a tall man in splendid + uniform, with gold epaulettes, plumed hat, and sword, bearing a cushion + with two jewelled stars. And the long, long train of mourners moved + slowly, gently on, and there—there by the grave, stood the priest, + holding a spade. + </p> + <p> + Peer was anxious to hear what the priest would have to say about his + father. Involuntarily he stole a little nearer, though he felt somehow + that it would not do to come too close. + </p> + <p> + A hymn was sung at the graveside, the band accompanying. Peer took off his + cap. He was too taken up to notice that one of the mourners was watching + him intently, and presently left the group and came towards him. The man + wore spectacles, and a shiny tall hat, and it was not until he began to + sneeze that Peer recognised him. It was the schoolmaster, glaring at him + now with a face so full of horror and fury that the spectacles almost + seemed to be spitting fire. + </p> + <p> + “You—you—Are you mad?” he whispered in Peer’s face, clenching + his black gloved hands. “What are you doing here? Do you want to cause a + catastrophe to-day of all days? Go—get away at once, do you hear me? + Go! For heaven’s sake, get away from here before any one sees.” Peer + turned and fled, hearing behind him as he went a threatening “If ever you + dare—again—,” while the voices and the band, swelling higher + in the hymn, seemed to strike him in the back and drive him on. + </p> + <p> + He was far down in the town before he could stop and pull himself + together. One thing was clear—after this he could never face that + schoolmaster again. All was lost. Could he even be sure that what he had + done wasn’t so frightfully wrong that he would have to go to prison for + it? + </p> + <p> + Next day the Troen folk were sitting at their dinner when the eldest son + looked out of the window and said: “There’s Peer coming.” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy on us!” cried the good-wife, as he came in. “What is the matter, + Peer? Are you ill?” + </p> + <p> + Ah, it was good that night to creep in under the old familiar skin-rug + once more. And the old mother sat on the bedside and talked to him of the + Lord, by way of comfort. Peer clenched his hands under the clothes—somehow + he thought now of the Lord as a sort of schoolmaster in a dressing-gown. + Yet it was some comfort all the same to have the old soul sit there and + talk to him. + </p> + <p> + Peer had much to put up with in the days that followed—much + tittering and whispers of “Look! there goes the priest,” as he went by. At + table, he felt ashamed of every mouthful he took; he hunted for jobs as + day-labourer on distant farms so as to earn a little to help pay for his + keep. And when the winter came he would have to do as the others did—hire + himself out, young and small as he was, for the Lofoten fishing. + </p> + <p> + But one day after church Klaus Brock drew him aside and got him to talk + things over at length. First, Klaus told him that he himself was going + away—he was to begin in one of the mechanical workshops in town, and + go from there to the Technical College, to qualify for an engineer. And + next he wanted to hear the whole truth about what had happened to Peer + that day in town. For when people went slapping their thighs and + sniggering about the young would-be priest that had turned out a beggar, + Klaus felt he would like to give the lot of them a darned good hammering. + </p> + <p> + So the two sixteen-year-old boys wandered up and down talking, and in the + days to come Peer never forgot how his old accomplice in the shark-fishing + had stood by him now. “Do like me,” urged Klaus. “You’re a bit of a smith + already, man; go to the workshops, and read up in your spare time for the + entrance exam to the Technical. Then three years at the College—the + eighteen hundred crowns will cover that—and there you are, an + engineer—and needn’t even owe any one a halfpenny.” + </p> + <p> + Peer shook his head; he was sure he would never dare to show his face + before that schoolmaster again, much less ask for the money in the bank. + No; the whole thing was over and done with for him. + </p> + <p> + “But devil take it, man, surely you can see that this ape of a + schoolmaster dare not keep you out of your money. Let me come with you; + we’ll go up and tackle him together, and then—then you’ll see.” And + Klaus clenched his fists and thrust out one shoulder fiercely. + </p> + <p> + But when January came, there was Peer in oil-skins, in the foc’s’le of a + Lofoten fishing-smack, ploughing the long sea-road north to the + fishing-grounds, in frost and snow-storms. All through that winter he + lived the fisherman’s life: on land, in one of the tiny fisher-booths + where a five-man crew is packed like sardines in an air so thick you can + cut it with a knife; at sea, where in a fair wind you stand half the day + doing nothing and freezing stiff the while—and a foul wind means out + oars, and row, row, row, over an endless plain of rolling icy combers; + row, row, till one’s hands are lumps of bleeding flesh. Peer lived through + it all, thinking now and then, when he could think at all, how the grand + gentlefolk had driven him out to this life because he was impertinent + enough to exist. And when the fourteen weeks were past, and the Lofoten + boats stood into the fjord again on a mild spring day, it was easy for + Peer to reckon out his earnings, which were just nothing at all. He had + had to borrow money for his outfit and food, and he would be lucky if his + boy’s share was enough to cover what he owed. + </p> + <p> + A few weeks later a boy stood by the yard gate of an engineering works in + the town just as the bell was ringing and the men came streaming out, and + asked for Klaus Brock. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Peer—that you? Been to Lofoten and made your fortune?” + </p> + <p> + The two boys stood a moment taking stock of one another: Klaus grimy-faced + and in working-clothes—Peer weather-beaten and tanned by storm and + spray. + </p> + <p> + The manager of the factory was Klaus’s uncle, and the same afternoon his + nephew came into the office with a new hand wanting to be taken on as + apprentice. He had done some smithy work before, he said; and he was taken + on forthwith, at a wage of twopence an hour. + </p> + <p> + “And what’s your name?” + </p> + <p> + “Peer—er”—the rest stuck in his throat. + </p> + <p> + “Holm,” put in Klaus. + </p> + <p> + “Peer Holm? Very well, that’ll do.” + </p> + <p> + The two boys went out with a feeling of having done something rather + daring. And anyway, if trouble should come along, there would be two of + them now to tackle it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter V + </h2> + <p> + In a narrow alley off Sea Street lived Gorseth the job-master, with a + household consisting of a lean and skinny wife, two half-starved horses, + and a few ramshackle flies and sledges. The job-master himself was a + hulking toper with red nose and beery-yellow eyes, who spent his nights in + drinking and got home in the small hours of the morning when his wife was + just about getting up. All through the morning she went about the place + scolding and storming at him for a drunken ne’er-do-well, while Gorseth + himself lay comfortably snoring. + </p> + <p> + When Peer arrived on the scene with his box on his shoulder, Gorseth was + on his knees in the yard, greasing a pair of leather carriage-aprons, + while his wife, sunken-lipped and fierce-eyed, stood in the kitchen + doorway, abusing him for a profligate, a swine, and the scum of the earth. + Gorseth lay there on all-fours, with the sun shining on his bald head, + smearing on the grease; but every now and then he would lift his head and + snarl out, “Hold your jaw, you damned old jade!” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t you a room to let?” Peer asked. + </p> + <p> + A beery nose was turned towards him, and the man dragged himself up and + wiped his hands on his trousers. “Right you are,” said he, and led the way + across the yard, up some stairs, and into a little room with two panes of + glass looking on to the street and a half-window on the yard. The room had + a bed with sheets, a couple of chairs, and a table in front of the + half-window. Six and six a month. Agreed. Peer took it on the spot, paid + down the first month’s rent, and having got rid of the man sat down on his + chest and looked about him. Many people have never a roof to their heads, + but here was he, Peer, with a home of his own. Outside in the yard the + woman had begun yelping her abuse again, the horses in the stable beneath + were stamping and whinnying, but Peer had lodged in fisher-booths and + peasants’ quarters and was not too particular. Here he was for the first + time in a place of his own, and within its walls was master of the house + and his own master. + </p> + <p> + Food was the next thing. He went out and bought in supplies, stocking his + chest with plain country fare. At dinner time he sat on the lid, as + fishermen do, and made a good solid meal of flat bannocks and cold bacon. + </p> + <p> + And now he fell-to at his new work. There was no question of whether it + was what he wanted or not; here was a chance of getting up in the world, + and that without having to beg any one’s leave. He meant to get on. And it + was not long before his dreams began to take a new shape from his new + life. He stood at the bottom of a ladder, a blacksmith’s boy—but up + at the top sat a mighty Chief Engineer, with gold spectacles and white + waistcoat. That was where he would be one day. And if any schoolmaster + came along and tried to keep him back this time—well, just let him + try it. They had turned him out of a churchyard once—he would have + his revenge for that some day. It might take him years and years to do it, + but one fine day he would be as good as the best of them, and would pay + them back in full. + </p> + <p> + In the misty mornings, as he tramped in to his work, dinner-pail in hand, + his footsteps on the plank bridge seemed hammering out with concentrated + will: “To-day I shall learn something new—new—new!” + </p> + <p> + The great works down at the harbour—shipyard, foundry, and machine + shops—were a whole city in themselves. And into this world of fire + and smoke and glowing iron, steam-hammers, racing wheels, and bustle and + noise, he was thrusting his way, intent upon one thing, to learn and learn + and ever learn. There were plenty of those by him who were content to know + their way about the little corner where they stood—but they would + never get any farther. They would end their days broken-down workmen—HE + would carve his way through till he stood among the masters. He had first + to put in some months’ work in the smithy, then he would be passed on to + the machine shops, then to work with the carpenters and painters, and + finally in the shipyard. The whole thing would take a couple of years. But + the works and all therein were already a kind of new Bible to him; a book + of books, which he must learn by heart. Only wait! + </p> + <p> + And what a place it was for new adventures! Many times a day he would find + himself gazing at some new wonder; sheer miracle and revelation—yet + withal no creation of God’s grace, but an invention of men. Press a + button, and behold, a miracle springs to life. He would stare at the + things, and the strain of understanding them would sometimes keep him + awake at night. There was something behind this, something that must be—spirit, + even though it did not come from God. These engineers were priests of a + sort, albeit they did not preach nor pray. It was a new world. + </p> + <p> + One day he was put to riveting work on an enormous boiler, and for the + first time found himself working with a power that was not the power of + his own hands. It was a tube, full of compressed air, that drove home the + rivets in quick succession with a clashing wail from the boiler that + sounded all over the town. Peer’s head and ears ached with the noise, but + he smiled all the same. He was used to toil himself, in weariness of body; + now he stood here master, was mind and soul and directing will. He felt it + now for the first time, and it sent a thrill of triumph through every + nerve of his body. + </p> + <p> + But all through the long evenings he sat alone, reading, reading, and + heard the horses stamping in the stable below. And when he crept into bed, + well after midnight, there was only one thing that troubled him—his + utter loneliness. Klaus Brock lived with his uncle, in a fine house, and + went to parties. And he lay here all by himself. If he were to die that + very night, there would be hardly a soul to care. So utterly alone he was—in + a strange and indifferent world. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes it helped him a little to think of the old mother at Troen, or + of the church at home, where the vaulted roof had soared so high over the + swelling organ-notes, and all the faces had looked so beautiful. But the + evening prayer was no longer what it had been for him. There was no + grey-haired bishop any more sitting at the top of the ladder he was to + climb. The Chief Engineer that was there now had nothing to do with Our + Lord, or with life in the world to come. He would never come so far now + that he could go down into the place of torment where his mother lay, and + bring her up with him, up to salvation. And whatever power and might he + gained, he could never stand in autumn evenings and lift up his finger and + make all the stars break into song. + </p> + <p> + Something was past and gone for Peer. It was as if he were rowing away + from a coast where red clouds hung in the sky and dream-visions filled the + air—rowing farther and farther away, towards something quite new. A + power stronger than himself had willed it so. + </p> + <p> + One Sunday, as he sat reading, the door opened, and Klaus Brock entered + whistling, with his cap on the back of his head. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, old boy! So this is where you live?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is—and that’s a chair over there.” + </p> + <p> + But Klaus remained standing, with his hands in his pockets and his cap on, + staring about the room. “Well, I’m blest!” he said at last. “If he hasn’t + stuck up a photograph of himself on his table!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, did you never see one before? Don’t you know everybody has them?” + </p> + <p> + “Not their own photos, you ass! If anybody sees that, you’ll never hear + the last of it.” + </p> + <p> + Peer took up the photograph and flung it under the bed. “Well, it was a + rubbishy thing,” he muttered. Evidently he had made a mistake. “But what + about this?”—pointing to a coloured picture he had nailed up on the + wall. + </p> + <p> + Klaus put on his most manly air and bit off a piece of tobacco plug. “Ah! + that!” he said, trying not to laugh too soon. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; it’s a fine painting, isn’t it? I got it for fourpence.” + </p> + <p> + “Painting! Ha-ha! that’s good! Why, you silly cow, can’t you see it’s only + an oleograph?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course you know all about it. You always do.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take you along one day to the Art Gallery,” said Klaus. “Then you + can see what a real painting looks like. What’s that you’ve got there—English + reader?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” put in Peer eagerly; “hear me say a poem.” And before Klaus could + protest, he had begun to recite. + </p> + <p> + When he had finished, Klaus sat for a while in silence, chewing his quid. + “H’m!” he said at last, “if our last teacher, Froken Zebbelin, could have + heard that English of yours, we’d have had to send for a nurse for her, + hanged if we wouldn’t!” + </p> + <p> + This was too much. Peer flung the book against the wall and told the other + to clear out to the devil. When Klaus at last managed to get a word in, he + said: + </p> + <p> + “If you are to pass your entrance at the Technical you’ll have to have + lessons—surely you can see that. You must get hold of a teacher.” + </p> + <p> + “Easy for you to talk about teachers! Let me tell you my pay is twopence + an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll find you one who can take you twice a week or so in languages and + history and mathematics. I daresay some broken-down sot of a student would + take you on for sevenpence a lesson. You could run to that, surely?” + </p> + <p> + Peer was quiet now and a little pensive. “Well, if I give up butter, and + drink water instead of coffee—” + </p> + <p> + Klaus laughed, but his eyes were moist. Hard luck that he couldn’t offer + to lend his comrade a few shillings—but it wouldn’t do. + </p> + <p> + So the summer passed. On Sundays Peer would watch the young folks setting + out in the morning for the country, to spend the whole day wandering in + the fields and woods, while he sat indoors over his books. And in the + evening he would stick his head out of his two-paned window that looked on + to the street, and would see the lads and girls coming back, flushed and + noisy, with flowers and green boughs in their hats, crazy with sunshine + and fresh air. And still he must sit and read on. But in the autumn, when + the long nights set in, he would go for a walk through the streets before + going to bed, as often as not up to the white wooden house where the + manager lived. This was Klaus’s home. Lights in the windows, and often + music; the happy people that lived here knew and could do all sorts of + things that could never be learned from books. No mistake: he had a + goodish way to go—a long, long way. But get there he would. + </p> + <p> + One day Klaus happened to mention, quite casually, where Colonel Holm’s + widow lived, and late one evening Peer made his way out there, and + cautiously approached the house. It was in River Street, almost hidden in + a cluster of great trees, and Peer stood there, leaning against the garden + fence, trembling with some obscure emotion. The long rows of windows on + both floors were lighted up; he could hear youthful laughter within, and + then a young girl’s voice singing—doubtless they were having a + party. Peer turned up his collar against the wind, and tramped back + through the town to his lodging above the carter’s stable. + </p> + <p> + For the lonely working boy Saturday evening is a sort of festival. He + treats himself to an extra wash, gets out his clean underclothes from his + chest, and changes. And the smell of the newly-washed underclothing calls + up keenly the thought of a pock-marked old woman who sewed and patched it + all, and laid it away so neatly folded. He puts it on carefully, feeling + almost as if it were Sunday already. + </p> + <p> + Now and again, when a Sunday seemed too long, Peer would drift into the + nearest church. What the parson said was all very good, no doubt, but Peer + did not listen; for him there were only the hymns, the organ, the lofty + vaulted roof, the coloured windows. Here, too, the faces of the people + looked otherwise than in the street without; touched, as it were, by some + reflection from all that their thoughts aspired to reach. And it was so + homelike here. Peer even felt a sort of kinship with them all, though + every soul there was a total stranger. + </p> + <p> + But at last one day, to his surprise, in the middle of a hymn, a voice + within him whispered suddenly: “You should write to your sister. She’s as + much alone in the world as you are.” + </p> + <p> + And one evening Peer sat down and wrote. He took quite a lordly tone, + saying that if she wanted help in any way, she need only let him know. And + if she would care to move in to town, she could come and live with him. + After which he remained, her affectionate brother, Peer Holm, engineer + apprentice. + </p> + <p> + A few days later there came a letter addressed in a fine slanting hand. + Louise had just been confirmed. The farmer she was with wished to keep her + on as dairymaid through the winter, but she was afraid the work would be + too heavy for her. So she was coming in to town by the boat arriving on + Sunday evening. With kind regards, his sister, Louise Hagen. + </p> + <p> + Peer was rather startled. He seemed to have taken a good deal on his + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + On Sunday evening he put on his blue suit and stiff felt hat, and walked + down to the quay. For the first time in his life he had some one else to + look after—he was to be a father and benefactor from now on to some + one worse off than himself. This was something new. The thought came back + to him of the jolly gentleman who had come driving down one day to Troen + to look after his little son. Yes, that was the way to do things; that was + the sort of man he would be. And involuntarily he fell into something of + his father’s look and step, his smile, his lavish, careless air. “Well, + well—well, well—well, well,” he seemed saying to himself. He + might almost, in his fancy, have had a neat iron-grey beard on his chin. + </p> + <p> + The little green steamboat rounded the point and lay in to the quay, the + gangways were run out, porters jumped aboard, and all the passengers came + bundling ashore. Peer wondered how he was to know her, this sister whom he + had never seen. + </p> + <p> + The crowd on deck soon thinned, and people began moving off from the quay + into the town. + </p> + <p> + Then Peer was aware of a young peasant-girl, with a box in one hand and a + violin-case in the other. She wore a grey dress, with a black kerchief + over her fair hair; her face was pale, and finely cut. It was his mother’s + face; his mother as a girl of sixteen. Now she was looking about her, and + now her eyes rested on him, half afraid, half inquiring. + </p> + <p> + “Is it you, Louise?” + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Peer?” + </p> + <p> + They stood for a moment, smiling and measuring each other with their eyes, + and then shook hands. + </p> + <p> + Together they carried the box up through the town, and Peer was so much of + a townsman already that he felt a little ashamed to find himself walking + through the streets, holding one end of a trunk, with a peasant-girl at + the other. And what a clatter her thick shoes made on the pavement! But + all the time he was ashamed to feel ashamed. Those blue arch eyes of hers, + constantly glancing up at him, what were they saying? “Yes, I have come,” + they said—“and I’ve no one but you in all the world—and here I + am,” they kept on saying. + </p> + <p> + “Can you play that?” he asked, with a glance at her violin-case. + </p> + <p> + “Oh well; my playing’s only nonsense,” she laughed. And she told how the + old sexton she had been living with last had not been able to afford a new + dress for her confirmation, and had given her the violin instead. + </p> + <p> + “Then didn’t you have a new dress to be confirmed in?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “But wasn’t it—didn’t you feel horrible, with the other girls + standing by you all dressed up fine?” + </p> + <p> + She shut her eyes for a moment. “Oh, yes—it WAS horrid,” she said. + </p> + <p> + A little farther on she asked: “Were you boarded out at a lot of places?” + </p> + <p> + “Five, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh—why, that’s nothing. I was at nine, I was.” The girl was + smiling again. + </p> + <p> + When they came up to his room she stood for a moment looking round the + place. It was hardly what she had expected to find. And she had not been + in town lodgings before, and her nose wrinkled up a little as she smelt + the close air. It seemed so stuffy, and so dark. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll light the lamp,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Presently she laughed a little shyly, and asked where she was to sleep. + </p> + <p> + “Lord bless us, you may well ask!” Peer scratched his head. “There’s only + one bed, you see.” At that they both burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + “The one of us’ll have to sleep on the floor,” suggested the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Right. The very thing,” said he, delighted. “I’ve two pillows; you can + have one. And two rugs—anyway, you won’t be cold.” + </p> + <p> + “And then I can put on my other dress over,” she said. “And maybe you’ll + have an old overcoat—” + </p> + <p> + “Splendid! So we needn’t bother any more about that.” + </p> + <p> + “But where do you get your food from?” She evidently meant to have + everything cleared up at once. + </p> + <p> + Peer felt rather ashamed that he hadn’t money enough to invite her to a + meal at an eating-house then and there. But he had to pay his teacher’s + fees the next day; and his store-box wanted refilling too. + </p> + <p> + “I boil the coffee on the stove there overnight,” he said, “so that it’s + all ready in the morning. And the dry food I keep in that box there. We’ll + see about some supper now.” He opened the box, fished out a loaf and some + butter, and put the kettle on the stove. She helped him to clear the + papers off the table, and spread the feast on it. There was only one + knife, but it was really much better fun that way than if he had had two. + And soon they were seated on their chairs—they had a chair each—having + their first meal in their own home, he and she together. + </p> + <p> + It was settled that Louise should sleep on the floor, and they both + laughed a great deal as he tucked her in carefully so that she shouldn’t + feel cold. It was not till afterwards, when the lamp was out, that they + noticed that the autumn gales had set in, and there was a loud + north-wester howling over the housetops. And there they lay, chatting to + each other in the dark, before falling asleep. + </p> + <p> + It seemed a strange and new thing to Peer, this really having a relation + of his own—and a girl, too—a young woman. There she lay on the + floor near by him, and from now on he was responsible for what was to + become of her in the world. How should he put that job through? + </p> + <p> + He could hear her turning over. The floor was hard, very likely. + </p> + <p> + “Louise?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever see mother?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Or your father?” + </p> + <p> + “My father?” She gave a little laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, haven’t you ever seen him either?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, how should I, silly? Who says that mother knew herself who it was?” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. Then Peer brought out, rather awkwardly: “We’re all + alone, then—you and I.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—we are that.” + </p> + <p> + “Louise! What are you thinking of taking to now?” + </p> + <p> + “What are you?” + </p> + <p> + So Peer told her all his plans. She said nothing for a little while—no + doubt she was lying thinking of the grand things he had before him. + </p> + <p> + At last she spoke. “Do you think—does it cost very much to learn to + be a midwife?” + </p> + <p> + “A midwife—is that what you want to be, girl?” Peer couldn’t help + laughing. So this was what she had been planning in these days—since + he had offered to help her on in the world. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think my hands are too big?” she ventured presently—he could + just hear the whisper. + </p> + <p> + Peer felt a pang of pity. He had noticed already how ill the red swollen + hands matched her pale clear-cut face, and he knew that in the country, + when any one has small, fine hands, people call them “midwife’s hands.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll manage it somehow, I daresay,” said Peer, turning round to the + wall. He had heard that it cost several hundred crowns to go through the + course at the midwifery school. It would be years before he could get + together anything like that sum. Poor girl, it looked as if she would have + a long time to wait. + </p> + <p> + After that they fell silent. The north-wester roared over the housetops, + and presently brother and sister were asleep. + </p> + <p> + When Peer awoke the next morning, Louise was about already, making coffee + over the little stove. Then she opened her box, took out a yellow + petticoat and hung it on a nail, placed a pair of new shoes against the + wall, lifted out some under-linen and woollen stockings, looked at them, + and put them back again. The little box held all her worldly goods. + </p> + <p> + As Peer was getting up: “Gracious mercy!” she cried suddenly, “what is + that awful noise down in the yard?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that’s nothing to worry about,” said Peer. “It’s only the job-master + and his wife. They carry on like that every blessed morning; you’ll soon + get used to it.” + </p> + <p> + Soon they were seated once more at the little table, drinking coffee and + laughing and looking at each other. Louise had found time to do her hair—the + two fair plaits hung down over her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + It was time for Peer to be off, and, warning the girl not to go too far + from home and get lost, he ran down the stairs. + </p> + <p> + At the works he met Klaus Brock, and told him that his sister had come to + town. + </p> + <p> + “But what are you going to do with her?” asked Klaus. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she’ll stay with me for the present.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay with you? But you’ve only got one room and one bed, man!” + </p> + <p> + “Well—she can sleep on the floor.” + </p> + <p> + “She? Your sister? She’s to sleep on the floor—and you in the bed!” + gasped Klaus. + </p> + <p> + Peer saw he had made a mistake again. “Of course I was only fooling,” he + hastened to say. “Of course it’s Louise that’s to have the bed.” + </p> + <p> + When he came home he found she had borrowed a frying-pan from the carter’s + wife, and had fried some bacon and boiled potatoes; so that they sat down + to a dinner fit for a prince. + </p> + <p> + But when the girl’s eyes fell on the coloured print on the wall, and she + asked if it was a painting, Peer became very grand at once. “That—a + painting? Why, that’s only an oleograph, silly! No, I’ll take you along to + the Art Gallery one day, and show you what real paintings are like.” And + he sat drumming with his fingers on the table, and saying: “Well, well—well, + well, well!” + </p> + <p> + They agreed that Louise had better look out at once for some work to help + things along. And at the first eating-house they tried, she was taken on + at once in the kitchen to wash the floor and peel potatoes. + </p> + <p> + When bedtime came he insisted on Louise taking the bed. “Of course all + that was only a joke last night,” he explained. “Here in town women always + have the best of everything—that’s what’s called manners.” As he + stretched himself on the hard floor, he had a strange new feeling. The + narrow little garret seemed to have widened out now that he had to find + room in it for a guest. There was something not unpleasant even in lying + on the hard floor, since he had chosen to do it for some one else’s sake. + </p> + <p> + After the lamp was out he lay for a while, listening to her breathing. + Then at last: + </p> + <p> + “Louise.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “Is your father—was his name Hagen?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It says so on the certificate.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you’re Froken Hagen. Sounds quite fine, doesn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Uf! Now you’re making fun of me.” + </p> + <p> + “And when you’re a midwife, Froken Hagen might quite well marry a doctor, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Silly! There’s no chance—with hands like mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think your hands are too big for you to marry a doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “Uf! you ARE a crazy thing. Ha-ha-ha!” + </p> + <p> + “Ha-ha-ha!” + </p> + <p> + They both snuggled down under the clothes, with the sense of ease and + peace that comes from sharing a room with a good friend in a happy humour. + </p> + <p> + “Well, good-night, Louise.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Peer.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VI + </h2> + <p> + So things went on till winter was far spent. Now that Louise, too, was a + wage-earner, and could help with the expenses, they could dine luxuriously + at an eating-house every day, if they pleased, on meat-cakes at fourpence + a portion. They managed to get a bed for Peer that could be folded up + during the day, and soon learned, too, that good manners required they + should hang up Louise’s big woollen shawl between them as a modest screen + while they were dressing and undressing. And Louise began to drop her + country speech and talk city-fashion like her brother. + </p> + <p> + One thought often came to Peer as he lay awake. “The girl is the very + image of mother, that’s certain—what if she were to go the same way? + Well, no, that she shall not. You’re surely man enough to see to that. + Nothing of that sort shall happen, my dear Froken Hagen.” + </p> + <p> + They saw but little of each other during the day, though, for they were + apart from early in the morning till he came home in the evening. And when + he lectured her, and warned her to be careful and take no notice of men + who tried to speak to her, Louise only laughed. When Klaus Brock came up + one day to visit them, and made great play with his eyes while he talked + to her, Peer felt much inclined to take him by the scruff of the neck and + throw him downstairs. + </p> + <p> + When Christmas-time was near they would wander in the long evenings + through the streets and look in at the dazzlingly lit shop-windows, with + their tempting, glittering show of gold and finery. Louise kept asking + continually how much he thought this thing or that cost—that lace, + or the cloak, or the stockings, or those gold brooches. “Wait till you + marry that doctor,” Peer would say, “then you can buy all those things.” + So far neither of them had an overcoat, but Peer turned up his coat-collar + when he felt cold, and Louise made the most of her thick woollen dress and + a pair of good country gloves that kept her quite warm. And she had + adventured on a hat now, in place of her kerchief, and couldn’t help + glancing round, thinking people must notice how fine she was. + </p> + <p> + On Christmas Eve he carried up buckets of water from the yard, and she had + a great scrubbing-out of the whole room. And then they in their turn had a + good wash, helping each other in country fashion to scrub shoulders and + back. + </p> + <p> + Peer was enough of a townsman now to have laid in a few little presents to + give his sister; but the girl, who had not been used to such doings, had + nothing for him, and wept a good deal when she realised it. They ate cakes + from the confectioner’s with syrup over them, and drank chocolate, and + then Louise played a hymn-tune, in her best style, on her violin, and Peer + read the Christmas lessons from the prayer-book—it was all just like + what they used to do at Troen on Christmas Eve. And that night, after the + lamp was put out, they lay awake talking over plans for the future. They + promised each other that when they had got well on in the world, he in his + line and she in hers, they would manage to live near each other, so that + their children could play together and grow up good friends. Didn’t she + think that was a good idea? Yes, indeed she did. And did he really mean + it? Yes, of course he meant it, really. + </p> + <p> + But later on in the winter, when she sat at home in the evenings waiting + for him—he often worked overtime—she was sometimes almost + afraid. There was his step on the stairs! If it was hurried and eager she + would tremble a little. For the moment he was inside the door he would + burst out: “Hurrah, my girl! I’ve learnt something new to-day, I tell + you!” “Have you, Peer?” And then out would pour a torrent of talk about + motors and power and pressures and cylinders and cranes and screws, and + such-like. She would sit and listen and smile, but of course understood + not a word of it all, and as soon as Peer discovered this he would get + perfectly furious, and call her a little blockhead. + </p> + <p> + Then there were the long evenings when he sat at home reading, by himself + or with his teacher and she had to sit so desperately still that she + hardly dared take a stitch with her needle. But one day he took it into + his head that his sister ought to be studying too; so he set her a piece + of history to learn by the next evening. But time to learn it—where + was that to come from? And then he started her writing to his dictation, + to improve her spelling—and all the time she kept dropping off to + sleep. She had washed so many floors and peeled so many potatoes in the + daytime that now her body felt like lead. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, my fine girl!” he would storm at her, raging up and down the + room, “if you think you can get on in the world without education, you’re + most infernally mistaken.” He succeeded in reducing her to tears—but + it wasn’t long before her head had fallen forward on the table again and + she was fast asleep. So he realised there was nothing for it but to help + her to bed—as quietly as possible, so as not to wake her up. + </p> + <p> + Some way on in the spring Peer fell sick. When the doctor came, he looked + round the room, sniffed, and frowned. “Do you call this a place for human + beings to live in?” he asked Louise, who had taken the day off. “How can + you expect to keep well?” + </p> + <p> + He examined Peer, who lay coughing, his face a burning red. “Yes, yes—just + as I expected. Inflammation of the lungs.” He glanced round the room once + more. “Better get him off to the hospital at once,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Louise sat there in terror at the idea that Peer was to be taken away. And + then, as the doctor was going, he looked at her more closely, and said: + “You’d do well to be a bit careful yourself, my good girl. You look as if + you wanted a change to a decent room, with a little more light and air, + pretty badly. Good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + Soon after he was gone the hospital ambulance arrived. Peer was carried + down the stairs on a stretcher, and the green-painted box on wheels opened + its door and swallowed him up; and they would not even let her go with + him. All through the evening she sat in their room alone, sobbing. + </p> + <p> + The hospital was one of the good old-fashioned kind that people don’t come + near if they can help it, because the walls seem to reek of the discomfort + and wretchedness that reign inside. The general wards—where the poor + folks went—were always so overcrowded that patients with all sorts + of different diseases had to be packed into the same rooms, and often + infected each other. When an operation was to be performed, things were + managed in the most cheerfully casual way: the patient was laid on a + stretcher and carried across the open yard, often in the depth of winter, + and as he was always covered up with a rug, the others usually thought he + was being taken off to the dead-house. + </p> + <p> + When Peer opened his eyes, he was aware of a man in a white blouse + standing by the foot of his bed. “Why, I believe he’s coming-to,” said the + man, who seemed to be a doctor. Peer found out afterwards from a nurse + that he had been unconscious for more than twenty-four hours. + </p> + <p> + He lay there, day after day, conscious of nothing but the stabbing of a + red-hot iron boring through his chest and cutting off his breathing. Some + one would come every now and then and pour port wine and naphtha into his + mouth; and morning and evening he was washed carefully with warm water by + gentle hands. But little by little the room grew lighter, and his gruel + began to have some taste. And at last he began to distinguish the people + in the beds near by, and to chat with them. + </p> + <p> + On his right lay a black-haired, yellow-faced dock labourer with a broken + nose. His disease, whatever it might be, was clearly different from + Peer’s. He plagued the nurse with foul-mouthed complaints of the food, + swearing he would report about it. On the other side lay an emaciated + cobbler with a soft brown beard like the Christ pictures, and cheeks + glowing with fever. He was dying of cancer. At right angles with him lay a + man with the face and figure of a prophet—a Moses—all bushy + white hair and beard; he was in the last stage of consumption, and his + cough was like a riveting machine. “Huh!” he would groan, “if only I could + get across to Germany there’d be a chance for me yet.” Beside him was a + fellow with short beard and piercing eyes, who was a little off his head, + and imagined himself a corporal of the Guards. Often at night the others + would be wakened by his springing upright in bed and calling out: + “Attention!” + </p> + <p> + One man lay moaning and groaning all the time, turning from side to side + of a body covered with sores. But one day he managed to swallow some of + the alcohol they used as lotion, and after that lay singing and weeping + alternately. And there was a red-bearded man with glasses, a commercial + traveller; he had put a bullet into his head, but the doctors had managed + to get it out again, and now he lay and praised the Lord for his + miraculous deliverance. + </p> + <p> + It was strange to Peer to lie awake at night in this great room in the dim + light of the night-lamp; it seemed as if beings from the land of the dead + were stirring in those beds round about him. But in the daytime, when + friends and relations of the patients came a-visiting, Peer could hardly + keep from crying. The cobbler had a wife and a little girl who came and + sat beside him, gazing at him as if they could never let him go. The + prophet, too, had a wife, who wept inconsolably—and all the rest + seemed to have some one or other to care for them. But where was Louise—why + did Louise never come? + </p> + <p> + The man on the right had a sister, who came sweeping in, gorgeous in her + trailing soiled silk dress. Her shoes were down at heel, but her hat was a + wonder, with enormous plumes. “Hallo, Ugly! how goes it?” she said; and + sat down and crossed her legs. Then the pair would talk mysteriously of + people with strange names: “The Flea,” “Cockroach,” “The Galliot,” “King + Ring,” and the like, evidently friends of theirs. One day she managed to + bring in a small bottle of brandy, a present from “The Hedgehog,” and + smuggle it under the bedclothes. As soon as she had gone, and the coast + was clear, Peer’s neighbour drew out the bottle, managed to work the cork + out, and offered him a drink. “Here’s luck, sonny; do you good.” No—Peer + would rather not. Then followed a gurgling sound from the docker’s bed, + and soon he too was lying singing at the top of his voice. + </p> + <p> + At last one day Louise came. She was wearing her neat hat, and had a + little bundle in her hand, and as she came in, looking round the room, the + close air of the sick-ward seemed to turn her a little faint. But then she + caught sight of Peer, and smiled, and came cautiously to him, holding out + her hand. She was astonished to find him so changed. But as she sat down + by his pillow she was still smiling, though her eyes were full of tears. + </p> + <p> + “So you’ve come at last, then?” said Peer. + </p> + <p> + “They wouldn’t let me in before,” she said with a sob. And then Peer + learned that she had come there every single day, but only to be told that + he was too ill to see visitors. + </p> + <p> + The man with the broken nose craned his head forward to get a better view + of the modest young girl. And meanwhile she was pulling out of the bundle + the offering she had brought—a bottle of lemonade and some oranges. + </p> + <p> + But it was a day or two later that something happened which Peer was often + to remember in the days to come. + </p> + <p> + He had been dozing through the afternoon, and when he woke the lamp was + lit, and a dull yellow half-light lay over the ward. The others seemed to + be sleeping; all was very quiet, only the man with the sores was + whimpering softly. Then the door opened, and Peer saw Louise glide in, + softly and cautiously, with her violin-case under her arm. She did not + come over to where her brother lay, but stood in the middle of the ward, + and, taking out her violin, began to play the Easter hymn: “The mighty + host in white array.” * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * “Den store hvide Flok vi se.” + </pre> + <p> + The man with the sores ceased whimpering; the patients in the beds round + about opened their eyes. The docker with the broken nose sat up in bed, + and the cobbler, roused from his feverish dream, lifted himself on his + elbow and whispered: “It is the Redeemer. I knew Thou wouldst come.” Then + there was silence. Louise stood there with eyes fixed on her violin, + playing her simple best. The consumptive raised his head and forgot to + cough; the corporal slowly stiffened his body to attention; the commercial + traveller folded his hands and stared before him. The simple tones of the + hymn seemed to be giving new life to all these unfortunates; the light of + it was in their faces. But to Peer, watching his sister as she stood there + in the half-light, it seemed as if she grew to be one with the hymn + itself, and that wings to soar were given her. + </p> + <p> + When she had finished, she came softly over to his bed, stroked his + forehead with her swollen hand, then glided out and disappeared as + silently as she had come. + </p> + <p> + For a long time all was silent in the dismal ward, until at last the dying + cobbler murmured: “I thank Thee. I knew—I knew Thou wert not far + away.” + </p> + <p> + When Peer left the hospital, the doctor said he had better not begin work + again at once; he should take a holiday in the country and pick up his + strength. “Easy enough for you to talk,” thought Peer, and a couple of + days later he was at the workshop again. + </p> + <p> + But his ways with his sister were more considerate than before, and he + searched about until he had found her a place as seamstress, and saved her + from her heavy floor-scrubbing. + </p> + <p> + And soon Louise began to notice with delight that her hands were much less + red and swollen than they had been; they were actually getting soft and + pretty by degrees. + </p> + <p> + Next winter she sat at home in the evenings while he read, and made + herself a dress and cloak and trimmed a new hat, so that Peer soon had + quite an elegant young lady to walk out with. But when men turned round to + look at her as she passed, he would scowl and clench his fists. At last + one day this was too much for Louise, and she rebelled. “Now, Peer, I tell + you plainly I won’t go out with you if you go on like that.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, my girl,” he growled. “I’ll look after you, though, never + fear. We’re not going to have mother’s story over again with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but, after all, I’m a grown-up-girl, and you can’t prevent people + looking at me, idiot!” + </p> + <p> + Klaus Brock had been entered at the Technical College that autumn, and + went about now with the College badge in his cap, and sported a + walking-stick and a cigarette. He had grown into a big, broad-shouldered + fellow, and walked with a little swing in his step; a thick shock of black + hair fell over his forehead, and he had a way of looking about him as if + to say: “Anything the matter? All right, I’m ready!” + </p> + <p> + One evening he came in and asked Louise to go with him to the theatre. The + young girl blushed red with joy, and Peer could not refuse; but he was + waiting for them outside the yard gate when they came back. On a Sunday + soon after Klaus was there again, asking her to come out for a drive. This + time she did not even look to Peer for leave, but said “yes” at once. + “Just you wait,” said Peer to himself. And when she came back that evening + he read her a terrific lecture. + </p> + <p> + Soon he could not help seeing that the girl was going about with half-shut + eyes, dreaming dreams of which she would never speak to him. And as the + days went on her hands grew whiter, and she moved more lightly, as if to + the rhythm of unheard music. Always as she went about the room on her + household tasks she was crooning some song; it seemed that there was some + joy in her soul that must find an outlet. + </p> + <p> + One Saturday in the late spring she had just come home, and was getting + the supper, when Peer came tramping in, dressed in his best and carrying a + parcel. + </p> + <p> + “Hi, girl! Here you are! We’re going to have a rare old feast to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Why—what is it all about?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve passed my entrance exam for the Technical—hurrah! Next autumn—next + autumn—I’ll be a student!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, splendid! I AM so glad!” And she dried her hand and grasped his. + </p> + <p> + “Here you are—sausages, anchovies—and here’s a bottle of + brandy—the first I ever bought in my life. Klaus is coming up later + on to have a glass of toddy. And here’s cheese. We’ll make things hum + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Klaus came, and the two youths drank toddy and smoked and made speeches, + and Louise played patriotic songs on her violin, and Klaus gazed at her + and asked for “more—more.” + </p> + <p> + When he left, Peer went with him, and as the two walked down the street, + Klaus took his friend’s arm, and pointed to the pale moon riding high + above the fjord, and vowed never to give him up, till he stood at the very + top of the tree—never, never! Besides, he was a Socialist now, he + said, and meant to raise a revolt against all class distinctions. And + Louise—Louise was the most glorious girl in all the world—and + now—and now—Peer might just as well know it sooner as later—they + were as good as engaged to be married, he and Louise. + </p> + <p> + Peer pushed him away, and stood staring at him. “Go home now, and go to + bed,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! You think I’m not man enough to defy my people—to defy the + whole world!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” said Peer. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, as Louise lay in bed—she had asked to have her + breakfast there for once in a way—she suddenly began to laugh. “What + ARE you about now?” she asked teasingly. + </p> + <p> + “Shaving,” said Peer, beginning operations. + </p> + <p> + “Shaving! Are you so desperate to be grand to-day that you must scrape all + your skin off? You know there’s nothing else to shave.” + </p> + <p> + “You hold your tongue. Little do you know what I’ve got in front of me + to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “What can it be? You’re not going courting an old widow with twelve + children, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “If you want to know, I’m going to that schoolmaster fellow, and going to + wring my savings-bank book out of him.” + </p> + <p> + Louise sat up at this. “My great goodness!” she said. + </p> + <p> + Yes; he had been working himself up to this for a year or more, and now he + was going to do it. To-day he would show what he was made of—whether + he was a snivelling child, or a man that could stand up to any + dressing-gown in the world. He was shaving for the first time—quite + true. And the reason was that it was no ordinary day, but a great + occasion. + </p> + <p> + His toilet over, he put on his best hat with a flourish, and set out. + </p> + <p> + Louise stayed at home all the morning, waiting for his return. And at last + she heard him on the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Puh!” he said, and stood still in the middle of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Well? Did you get it?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed, wiped his forehead, and drew a green-covered book from his + coat-pocket. “Here we are, my girl—there’s fifty crowns a month for + three years. It’s going to be a bit of a pinch, with fees and books, and + living and clothes into the bargain. But we’ll do it. Father was one of + the right sort, I don’t care what they say.” + </p> + <p> + “But how did you manage it? What did the schoolmaster say?” + </p> + <p> + “‘Do you suppose that you—you with your antecedents—could ever + pass into the Technical College?’ he said. And I told him I HAD passed. + ‘Good heavens! How could you possibly qualify?’ and he shifted his glasses + down his nose. And then: ‘Oh, no! it’s no good coming here with tales of + that sort, my lad.’ Well, then I showed him the certificate, and he got + much meeker. ‘Really!’ he said, and ‘Dear me!’ and all that. But I say, + Louise—there’s another Holm entered for the autumn term.” + </p> + <p> + “Peer, you don’t mean—your half-brother?” + </p> + <p> + “And old Dressing-gown said it would never do—never! But I said it + seemed to me there must be room in the world for me as well, and I’d like + that bank book now, I said. ‘You seem to fancy you have some legal right + to it,’ he said, and got perfectly furious. Then I hinted that I’d rather + ask a lawyer about it and make sure, and at that he regularly boiled with + rage and waved his arms all about. But he gave in pretty soon all the same—said + he washed his hands of the whole thing. ‘And besides,’ he said, ‘your + name’s Troen, you know—Peer Troen.’ Ho-ho-ho—Peer Troen! + Wouldn’t he like it! Tra-la-la-la!—I say, let’s go out and get a + little fresh air.” + </p> + <p> + Peer said nothing then or after about Klaus Brock, and Klaus himself was + going off home for the summer holidays. As the summer wore on the town lay + baking in the heat, reeking of drains, and the air from the stable came up + to the couple in the garret so heavy and foul that they were sometimes + nearly stifled. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you what,” said Peer one day, “we really must spend a few + shillings more on house rent and get a decent place to live in.” + </p> + <p> + And Louise agreed. For till the time came for him to join the College in + the autumn, Peer was obliged to stick to the workshops; he could not + afford a holiday just now. + </p> + <p> + One morning he was just starting with a working gang down to Stenkjaer to + repair some damage in the engine-room of a big Russian grain boat, when + Louise came and asked him to look at her throat. “It hurts so here,” she + said. + </p> + <p> + Peer took a spoon and pressed down her tongue, but could not see anything + wrong. “Better go and see the doctor, and make sure,” he said. + </p> + <p> + But the girl made light of it. “Oh, nonsense!” she said; “it’s not worth + troubling about.” + </p> + <p> + Peer was away for over a week, sleeping on board with the rest. When he + came back, he hurried home, suddenly thinking of Louise and her sore + throat. He found the job-master greasing the wheels of a carriage, while + his wife leaned out of a window scolding at him. “Your sister,” repeated + the carter, turning round his face with its great red lump of nose—“she’s + gone to hospital—diphtheria hospital—she has. Doctor was here + over a week ago and took her off. They’ve been here since poking round and + asking who she was and where she belonged—well, we didn’t know. And + asking where you were, too—and we didn’t know either. She was real + bad, if you ask me—” + </p> + <p> + Peer hastened off. It was a hot day, and the air was close and heavy. On + he went—all down the whole length of Sea Street, through the + fishermen’s quarter, and a good way further out round the bay. And then he + saw a cart coming towards him, an ordinary work-cart, with a coffin on it. + The driver sat on the cart, and another man walked behind, hat in hand. + Peer ran on, and at last came in sight of the long yellow building at the + far end of the bay. He remembered all the horrible stories he had heard + about the treatment of diphtheria patients—how their throats had to + be cut open to give them air, or something burned out of them with red-hot + irons—oh! When at last he had reached the high fence and rung the + bell, he stood breathless and dripping with sweat, leaning against the + gate. + </p> + <p> + There was a sound of steps within, a key was turned, and a porter with a + red moustache and freckles about his hard blue eyes thrust out his head. + </p> + <p> + “What d’you want to go ringing like that for?” + </p> + <p> + “Froken Hagen—Louise Hagen—is she better? How—how is + she?” + </p> + <p> + “Lou—Louise Hagen? A girl called Louise Hagen? Is it her you’ve come + to ask about?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. She’s my sister. Tell me—or—let me in to see her.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a bit. You don’t mean a girl that was brought in here about a week + ago?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes—but let me in.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ve had no end of bother and trouble about that girl, trying to find + out where she came from, and if she had people here. But, of course, this + weather, we couldn’t possibly keep her any longer. Didn’t you meet a + coffin on a cart as you came along?” + </p> + <p> + “What—what—you don’t mean—?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you should have come before, you know. She did ask a lot for some + one called Peer. And she got the matron to write somewhere—wasn’t it + to Levanger? Were you the fellow she was asking for? So you came at last! + Oh, well—she died four or five days ago. And they’re just gone now + to bury her, in St. Mary’s Churchyard.” + </p> + <p> + Peer turned round and looked out over the bay at the town, that lay sunlit + and smoke-wreathed beyond. Towards the town he began to walk, but his step + grew quicker and quicker, and at last he took off his cap and ran, panting + and sobbing as he went. Have I been drinking? was the thought that whirled + through his brain, or why can’t I wake? What is it? What is it? And still + he ran. There was no cart in sight as yet; the little streets of the + fisher-quarter were all twists and turns. At last he reached Sea Street + once more, and there—there far ahead was the slow-moving cart. + Almost at once it turned off to the right and disappeared, and when Peer + reached the turning, it was not to be seen. Still he ran on at haphazard. + There seemed to be other people in the streets—children flying red + balloons, women with baskets, men with straw hats and walking-sticks. But + Peer marked his line, and ran forward, thrusting people aside, upsetting + those in his way, and dashing on again. In King Street he came in sight of + the cart once more, nearer this time. The man walking behind it with his + hat in his hand had red curling hair, and walked with a curtsying gait, + giving at the knees and turning out his toes. No doubt he made his living + as mourner at funerals to which no other mourners came. As the cart turned + into the churchyard Peer came up with it, and tried to follow at a walk, + but stumbled and could hardly keep his feet. The man behind the cart + looked at him. “What’s the matter with you?” he asked. The driver looked + round, but drove on again at once. + </p> + <p> + The cart stopped, and Peer stood by, leaning against a tree for support. A + third man came up—he seemed to be the gravedigger—and he heard + the three discussing how long they might have to wait for the parson. “The + time’s just about up, isn’t it?” said the driver, taking out his watch. + “Ay, the clerk said he’d be here by now,” agreed the gravedigger, and blew + his nose. + </p> + <p> + Soon the priest came in sight, wearing his black robe and white ruff; + there were doubtless to be other funerals that day. Peer sank down on a + bench and looked stupidly on while the coffin was lifted from the cart, + carried to the grave, and lowered down. A man with spectacles and a red + nose came up with a hymn-book, and sang something over the grave. The + priest lifted the spade—and at the sound of the first spadeful of + earth falling on Louise’s coffin, Peer started as if struck, and all but + fell from his seat. + </p> + <p> + When he looked up again, the place was deserted. The bell was ringing, and + a crowd was collecting in another part of the churchyard. Peer sat where + he was, quite still. + </p> + <p> + In the evening, when the gravedigger came to lock the gates, he had to + take the young man by the shoulder and shake him to his senses. + “Locking-up time,” he said. “You must go now.” + </p> + <p> + Peer rose and tried to walk, and by and by he was stumbling blindly out + through the gate and down the street. And after a time he found himself + climbing a flight of stairs above a stable-yard. Once in his room, he + flung himself down on the bed as he was, and lay there still. + </p> + <p> + The close heat of the day had broken in a downpour of rain, which drummed + upon the roof above his head, and poured in torrents through the gutters. + Instinctively Peer started up: Louise was out in the rain—she would + need her cloak. He was on his feet in a moment, as if to find it—then + he stopped short, and sank slowly back upon the bed. + </p> + <p> + He drew up his feet under him, and buried his head in his arms. His brain + was full of changing, hurrying visions, of storm and death, of human + beings helpless in a universe coldly and indifferently ruled by a will + that knows no pity. + </p> + <p> + Then for the first time it was as if he lifted up his head against Heaven + itself and cried: “There is no sense in all this. I will not bear it.” + </p> + <p> + Later in the night, when he found himself mechanically folding his hands + for the evening prayer he had learnt to say as a child, he suddenly burst + out laughing, and clenched his fists, and cried aloud: “No, no, no—never—never + again.” + </p> + <p> + Once more it came to him that there was something in God like the + schoolmaster—He took the side of those who were well off already. + “Yes, they who have parents and home and brothers and sisters and worldly + goods—them I protect and care for. But here’s a boy alone in the + world, struggling and fighting his way on as best he can—from him I + will take the only thing he has. That boy is nothing to any one. Let him + be punished because he is poor, and cast down to the earth, for there is + none to care for him. That boy is nothing to any one—nothing.” Oh, + oh, oh!—he clenched his fists and beat them against the wall. + </p> + <p> + His whole little world was broken to pieces. Either God did not exist at + all, or He was cold and pitiless—one way of it was as bad as the + other. The heavenly country dissolved into cloud and melted away, and + above was nothing but empty space. No more folding of your hands, like a + fool! Walk on the earth, and lift up your head, and defy Heaven and fate, + as you defied the schoolmaster. Your mother has no need of you to save her—she + is not anywhere any more. She is dead—dead and turned to clay; and + more than that there is not, for her or for you or any other being in this + world. + </p> + <p> + Still he lay there. He would fain have slept, but seemed instead to sink + into a vague far-away twilight that rocked him—rocked him on its + dark and golden waves. And now he heard a sound—what was it? A + violin. “The mighty host in white array.” Louise—is it you—and + playing? He could see her now, out there in the twilight. How pale she + was! But still she played. And now he understood what that twilight was. + </p> + <p> + It was a world beyond the consciousness of daily life—and that world + belonged to him. “Peer, let me stay here.” And something in him answered: + “Yes, you shall stay, Louise. Even though there is no God and no + immortality, you shall stay here.” And then she smiled. And still she + played. And it was as though he were building a little vaulted chapel for + her in defiance of Heaven and of God—as though he were ringing out + with his own hands a great eternal chime for her sake. What was happening + to him? There was none to comfort him, yet it ended, as he lay there, with + his pouring out something of his innermost being, as an offering to all + that lives, to the earth and the stars, until all seemed rocking, rocking + with him on the stately waves of the psalm. He lay there with fast-closed + eyes, stretching out his hands as though afraid to wake, and find it all + nothing but a beautiful dream. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VII + </h2> + <p> + The two-o’clock bell at the Technical College had just begun to ring, and + a stream of students appeared out of the long straggling buildings and + poured through the gate, breaking up then into little knots and groups + that went their several ways into the town. + </p> + <p> + It was a motley crowd of young men of all ages from seventeen to thirty or + more. Students of the everlasting type, sent here by their parents as a + last resource, for—“he can always be an engineer”; young sparks who + paid more attention to their toilet than their books, and hoped to “get + through somehow” without troubling to work; and stiff youths of soldierly + bearing, who had been ploughed for the Army, but who likewise could + “always be engineers.” There were peasant-lads who had crammed themselves + through their Intermediate at a spurt, and now wore the College cap above + their rough grey homespun, and dreamed of getting through in no time, and + turning into great men with starched cuffs and pince-nez. There were pale + young enthusiasts, too, who would probably end as actors; and there were + also quondam actors, killed by the critics, but still sufficiently alive, + it seemed, “to be engineers.” And as the young fellows hurried on their + gay and careless way through the town, an older man here and there might + look round after them with a smile of some sadness. It was easy to say + what fate awaited most of them. College ended, they would be scattered + like birds of passage throughout the wide world, some to fall by sunstroke + in Africa, or be murdered by natives in China, others to become mining + kings in the mountains of Peru, or heads of great factories in Siberia, + thousands of miles from home and friends. The whole planet was their home. + Only a few of them—not always the shining lights—would stay at + home, with a post on the State railways, to sit in an office and watch + their salaries mount by increments of L12 every fifth year. + </p> + <p> + “That’s a devil of a fellow, that brother of yours that’s here,” said + Klaus Brock to Peer one day, as they were walking into town together with + their books under their arms. + </p> + <p> + “Now, look here, Klaus, once for all, be good enough to stop calling him + my brother. And another thing—you’re never to say a word to any one + about my father having been anything but a farmer. My name’s Holm, and I’m + called so after my father’s farm. Just remember that, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all right. Don’t excite yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you suppose I’d give that coxcomb the triumph of thinking I want to + make up to him?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, of course not.” Klaus shrugged his shoulders and walked on, + whistling. + </p> + <p> + “Or that I want to make trouble for that fine family of his? No, I may + find a way to take it out of him some day, but it won’t be that way.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but, damn it, man! you can surely stand hearing what people say + about him.” And Klaus went on to tell his story. Ferdinand Holm, it + seemed, was the despair of his family. He had thrown up his studies at the + Military Academy, because he thought soldiers and soldiering ridiculous. + Then he had made a short experiment with theology, but found that worse + still; and finally, having discovered that engineering was at any rate an + honest trade, he had come to anchor at the Technical College. “What do you + say to that?” asked Klaus. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t see anything so remarkable about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a bit, the cream of the story’s to come. A few weeks ago he thrashed + a policeman in the street—said he’d insulted a child, or something. + There was a fearful scandal—arrest, the police-court, fine, and so + forth. And last winter what must he do but get engaged, formally and + publicly engaged, to one of his mother’s maids. And when his mother sent + the girl off behind his back, he raised the standard of revolt and left + home altogether. And now he does nothing but breathe fire and slaughter + against the upper classes and all their works. What do you say to that?” + </p> + <p> + “My good man, what the deuce has all this got to do with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think it’s confoundedly plucky of him, anyhow,” said Klaus. “And + for my part I shall get to know him if I can. He’s read an awful lot, they + say, and has a damned clever head on his shoulders.” + </p> + <p> + On his very first day at the College, Peer had learned who Ferdinand Holm + was, and had studied him with interest. He was a tall, straight-built + fellow with reddish-blond hair and freckled face, and wore a dark + tortoiseshell pince-nez. He did not wear the usual College cap, but a + stiff grey felt hat, and he looked about four or five and twenty. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” thought Peer to himself—“wait, my fine fellow! Yes, you were + there, no doubt, when they turned me out of the churchyard that day. But + all that won’t help you here. You may have got the start of me at first, + and learned this, that, and the other, but—you just wait.” + </p> + <p> + But one morning, out in the quadrangle, he noticed that Ferdinand Holm in + his turn was looking at him, in fact was putting his glasses straight to + get a better view of him—and Peer turned round at once and walked + away. + </p> + <p> + Ferdinand, however, had been put into a higher class almost at once, on + the strength of his matriculation. Also he was going in for a different + branch of the work—roads and railway construction—so that it + was only in the quadrangle and the passages that the two ever met. + </p> + <p> + But one afternoon, soon after Christmas, Peer was standing at work in the + big designing-room, when he heard steps behind him, and, turning round, + saw Klaus Brock and—Ferdinand Holm. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to make your acquaintance,” said Holm, and when Klaus had + introduced them, he held out a large white hand with a red seal-ring on + the first finger. “We’re namesakes, I understand, and Brock here tells me + you take your name from a country place called Holm.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. My father was a plain country farmer,” said Peer, and at once felt + annoyed with himself for the ring of humility the words seemed to have. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the best is good enough,” said the other with a smile. “I say, + though, has the first-term class gone as far as this in projection + drawing? Excuse my asking. You see, we had a good deal of this sort of + thing at the Military Academy, so that I know a little about it.” + </p> + <p> + Thought Peer: “Oh, you’d like to give me a little good advice, would you, + if you dared?” Aloud he said: “No, the drawing was on the blackboard—the + senior class left it there—and I thought I’d like to see what I + could make out of it.” + </p> + <p> + The other sent him a sidelong glance. Then he nodded, said, “Good-bye—hope + we shall meet again,” and walked off, his boots creaking slightly as he + went. His easy manners, his gait, the tone of his voice, all seemed to + irritate and humiliate Peer. Never mind—just let him wait! + </p> + <p> + Days passed, and weeks. Peer soon found another object to work for than + getting the better of Ferdinand Holm. Louise’s dresses hung still + untouched in his room, her shoes stood under the bed; it still seemed to + him that some day she must open the door and walk in. And when he lay + there alone at night, the riddle was always with him: Where is she now?—why + should she have died?—would he never meet her again? He saw her + always as she had stood that day playing to the sick folks in the hospital + ward. But now she was dressed in white. And it seemed quite natural now + that she had wings. He heard her music too—it cradled and rocked + him. And all this came to be a little world apart, where he could take + refuge for Sunday peace and devotion. It had nothing to do with faith or + religion, but it was there. And sometimes in the midst of his work in the + daytime he would divine, as in a quite separate consciousness, the tones + of a fiddle-bow drawn across the strings, like reddish waves coming to him + from far off, filling him with harmony, till he smiled without knowing it. + </p> + <p> + Often, though, a sort of hunger would come upon him to let his being + unfold in a great wide wave of organ music in the church. But to church he + never went any more. He would stride by a church door with a kind of + defiance. It might indeed be an Almighty Will that had taken Louise from + him, but if so he did not mean to give thanks to such a Will or bow down + before it. It was as though he had in view a coming reckoning—his + reckoning with something far out in eternity—and he must see to it + that when that time came he could feel free—free. + </p> + <p> + On Sunday mornings, when the church bells began to ring, he would turn + hastily to his books, as if to find peace in them. Knowledge—knowledge—could + it stay his hunger for the music of the hymn? When he had first started + work at the shops, he had often and often stood wide-eyed before some + miracle—now he was gathering the power to work miracles himself. And + so he read and read, and drank in all that he could draw from teacher or + book, and thought and thought things out for himself. Fixed lessons and + set tasks were all well enough, but Peer was for ever looking farther; for + him there were questions and more questions, riddles and new riddles—always + new, always farther and farther on, towards the unknown. He had made as + yet but one step forward in physics, mathematics, chemistry; he divined + that there were worlds still before him, and he must hasten on, on, on. + Would the day ever come when he should reach the end? What is knowledge? + What use do men make of all that they have learned? Look at the teachers, + who knew so much—were they greater, richer, brighter beings than the + rest? Could much study bring a man so far that some night he could lift up + a finger and make the stars themselves break into song? Best drive ahead, + at any rate. But, again, could knowledge lead on to that ecstasy of the + Sunday psalm, that makes all riddles clear, that bears a man upwards in + nameless happiness, in which his soul expands till it can enfold the + infinite spaces? Well, at any rate the best thing was to drive ahead, + drive ahead both early and late. + </p> + <p> + One day that spring, when the trees in the city avenues were beginning to + bud, Klaus Brock and Ferdinand Holm were sitting in a cafe in North + Street. “There goes your friend,” said Ferdinand; and looking from the + window they saw Peer Holm passing the post-office on the other side of the + road. His clothes were shabby, his shoes had not been cleaned, he walked + slowly, his fair head with its College cap bent forward, but seemed + nevertheless to notice all that was going on in the street. + </p> + <p> + “Wonder what he’s going pondering over now,” said Klaus. + </p> + <p> + “Look there—I suppose that’s a type of carriage he’s never seen + before. Why, he has got the driver to stop—” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t mind betting he’ll crawl in between the wheels to find out + whatever he’s after,” laughed Klaus, drawing back from the window so as + not to be seen. + </p> + <p> + “He looks pale and fagged out,” said Ferdinand, shifting his glasses. “I + suppose his people aren’t very well off?” + </p> + <p> + Klaus opened his eyes and looked at the other. “He’s not overburdened with + cash, I fancy.” + </p> + <p> + They drank off their beer, and sat smoking and talking of other things, + until Ferdinand remarked casually: “By the way—about your friend—are + his parents still alive?” + </p> + <p> + Klaus was by no means anxious to go into Peer’s family affairs, and + answered briefly—No, he thought not. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid I’m boring you with questions, but the fact is the fellow + interests me rather. There is something in his face, something—arresting. + Even the way he walks—where is it I’ve seen some one walk like that + before? And he works like a steam-engine, I hear?” + </p> + <p> + “Works!” repeated Klaus. “He’ll ruin his health before long, the way he + goes on grinding. I believe he’s got an idea that by much learning he can + learn at last to—Ha-ha-ha!” + </p> + <p> + “To do what?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—to understand God!” + </p> + <p> + Ferdinand was staring out of the window. “Funny enough,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I ran across him last Sunday, up among the hills. He was out studying + geology, if you please. And if there’s a lecture anywhere about anything—whether + it’s astronomy or a French poet—you can safely swear he’ll be + sitting there, taking notes. You can’t compete with a fellow like that! + He’ll run across a new name somewhere—Aristotle, for instance. It’s + something new, and off he must go to the library to look it up. And then + he’ll lie awake for nights after, stuffing his head with translations from + the Greek. How the deuce can any one keep up with a man who goes at things + that way? There’s one thing, though, that he knows nothing about.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, wine and women, we’ll say—and fun in general. One thing he + isn’t, by Jove!—and that’s YOUNG.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he’s not been able to afford that sort of thing,” said Ferdinand, + with something like a sigh. + </p> + <p> + The two sat on for some time, and every now and then, when Klaus was off + his guard, Ferdinand would slip in another little question about Peer. And + by the time they had finished their second glass, Klaus had admitted that + people said Peer’s mother had been a—well—no better than she + should be. + </p> + <p> + “And what about his father?” Ferdinand let fall casually. + </p> + <p> + Klaus flushed uncomfortably at this. “Nobody—no—nobody knows + much about him,” he stammered. “I’d tell you if I knew, hanged if I + wouldn’t. No one has an idea who it was. He—he’s very likely in + America.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re always mighty mysterious when you get on the subject of his + family, I’ve noticed,” said Ferdinand with a laugh. But Klaus thought his + companion looked a little pale. + </p> + <p> + A few days later Peer was sitting alone in his room above the stables, + when he heard a step on the stairs, the door opened, and Ferdinand Holm + walked in. + </p> + <p> + Peer rose involuntarily and grasped at the back of his chair as if to + steady himself. If this young coxcomb had come—from the + schoolmaster, for instance—or to take away his name—why, he’d + just throw him downstairs, that was all. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I’d like to look you up, and see where you lived,” began the + visitor, laying down his hat and taking a seat. “I’ve taken you unawares, + I see. Sorry to disturb you. But the fact is there’s something I wanted to + speak to you about.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is there?” and Peer sat down as far as conveniently possible from the + other. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve noticed, even in the few times we’ve happened to meet, that you + don’t like me. Well, you know, that’s a thing I’m not going to put up + with.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” asked Peer, hardly knowing whether to laugh or not. + </p> + <p> + “I want to be friends with you, that’s all. You probably know a good deal + more about me than I do about you, but that need not matter. Hullo—do + you always drum with your fingers on the table like that? Ha-ha-ha! Why, + that was a habit of my father’s, too.” + </p> + <p> + Peer stared at the other in silence. But his fingers stopped drumming. + </p> + <p> + “I rather envy you, you know, living as you do. When you come to be a + millionaire, you’ll have an effective background for your millions. And + then, you must know a great deal more about life than we do; and the + knowledge that comes out of books must have quite another spiritual value + for you than for the rest of us, who’ve been stuffed mechanically with + ‘lessons’ and ‘education’ and so forth since we were kids. And now you’re + going in for engineering?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Peer. His face added pretty clearly, “And what concern is it + of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it does seem to me that the modern technician is a priest in his + way—or no, perhaps I should rather call him a descendant of old + Prometheus. Quite a respectable ancestry, too, don’t you think? But has it + ever struck you that with every victory over nature won by the human + spirit, a fragment of their omnipotence is wrested from the hands of the + gods? I always feel as if we were using fire and steel, mechanical energy + and human thought, as weapons of revolt against the Heavenly tyranny. The + day will come when we shall no longer need to pray. The hour will strike + when the Heavenly potentates will be forced to capitulate, and in their + turn bend the knee to us. What do you think yourself? Jehovah doesn’t like + engineers—that’s MY opinion.” + </p> + <p> + “Sounds very well,” said Peer briefly. But he had to admit to himself that + the other had put into words something that had been struggling for + expression in his own mind. + </p> + <p> + “Of course for the present we two must be content with smaller things,” + Ferdinand went on. “And I don’t mind admitting that laying out a bit of + road, or a bit of railway, or bridging a ditch or so, isn’t work that + appeals to me tremendously. But if a man can get out into the wide world, + there are things enough to be done that give him plenty of chance to + develop what’s in him—if there happens to be anything. I used to + envy the great soldiers, who went about to the ends of the earth, + conquering wild tribes and founding empires, organising and civilising + where they went. But in our day an engineer can find big jobs too, once he + gets out in the world—draining thousands of square miles of swamp, + or regulating the Nile, or linking two oceans together. That’s the sort of + thing I’m going to take a hand in some day. As soon as I’ve finished here, + I’m off. And we’ll leave it to the engineers to come, say in a couple of + hundred years or so, to start in arranging tourist routes between the + stars. Do you mind my smoking?” + </p> + <p> + “No, please do,” said Peer. “But I’m sorry I haven’t—” + </p> + <p> + “I have—thanks all the same.” Ferdinand took out his cigar-case, and + when Peer had declined the offered cigar, lit one himself. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said, “won’t you come out and have dinner with me + somewhere?” + </p> + <p> + Peer started at his visitor. What did all this mean? + </p> + <p> + “I’m a regular Spartan, as a rule, but they’ve just finished dividing up + my father’s estate, so I’m in funds for the moment, and why shouldn’t we + have a little dinner to celebrate? If you want to change, I can wait + outside—but come just as you are, of course, if you prefer.” + </p> + <p> + Peer was more and more perplexed. Was there something behind all this? Or + was the fellow simply an astonishingly good sort? Giving it up at last, he + changed his collar and put on his best suit and went. + </p> + <p> + For the first time in his life he found himself in a first-class + restaurant, with small tables covered with snow-white tablecloths, flowers + in vases, napkins folded sugar-loaf shape, cut-glass bowls, and coloured + wine-glasses. Ferdinand seemed thoroughly at home, and treated his + companion with a friendly politeness. And during the meal he managed to + make the talk turn most of the time on Peer’s childhood and early days. + </p> + <p> + When they had come to the coffee and cigars, Ferdinand leaned across the + table towards him, and said: “Look here, don’t you think we two ought to + say thee and thou* to each other?” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * “Tutoyer,” the mode of address of intimate friendship or + relationship. +</pre> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” said Peer, really touched now. + </p> + <p> + “We’re both Holms, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. So we are.” + </p> + <p> + “And, after all, who knows that there mayn’t be some sort of connection? + Come, now, don’t look like that! I only want you to look on me as your + good friend, and to come to me if ever there’s anything I can do. We + needn’t live in each other’s pockets, of course, when other people are by—but + we must take in Klaus Brock along with us, don’t you think?” + </p> + <p> + Peer felt a strong impulse to run away. Did the other know everything? If + so, why didn’t he speak straight out? + </p> + <p> + As the two walked home in the clear light of the spring evening, Ferdinand + took his companion’s arm, and said: “I don’t know if you’ve heard that I’m + not on good terms with my people at home. But the very first time I saw + you, I had a sort of feeling that we two belonged together. Somehow you + seemed to remind me so of—well, to tell the truth, of my father. And + he, let me tell you, was a gallant gentleman—” + </p> + <p> + Peer did not answer, and the matter went no farther then. + </p> + <p> + But the next few days were an exciting time for Peer. He could not quite + make out how much Ferdinand knew, and nothing on earth would have induced + him to say anything more himself. And the other asked no questions, but + was just a first-rate comrade, behaving as if they had been friends for + years. He did not even ask Peer any more about his childhood, and never + again referred to his own family. Peer was always reminding himself to be + on his guard, but could not help feeling glad all the same whenever they + were to meet. + </p> + <p> + He was invited one evening, with Klaus, to a wine-party at Ferdinand’s + lodging, and found himself in a handsomely furnished room, with pictures + on the walls, and photographs of his host’s parents. There was one of his + father as a young man, in uniform; another of his grandfather, who had + been a Judge of the Supreme Court. “It’s very good of you to be so + interested in my people,” said Ferdinand with a smile. Klaus Brock looked + from one to the other, wondering to himself how things really stood + between the two. + </p> + <p> + The summer vacation came round, and the students prepared to break up and + go their various ways. Klaus was to go home. And one day Ferdinand came to + Peer and said: “Look here, old man. I want you to do me a great favour. + I’d arranged to go to the seaside this summer, but I’ve a chance of going + up to the hills, too. Well, I can’t be in two places at once—couldn’t + you take on one of them for me? Of course I’d pay all expenses.” “No, + thank you!” said Peer, with a laugh. But when Klaus Brock came just before + leaving and said: “See here, Peer. Don’t you think you and I might club + together and put a marble slab over—Louise’s grave?”, Peer was + touched, and clapped him on the shoulder. “What a good old fellow you are, + Klaus,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Later in the summer Peer set out alone on a tramp through the country, and + whenever he saw a chance, he would go up to one of the farms and say: + “Would you like to have a good map of the farm? It’ll cost ten crowns and + my lodging while I’m at it.” It made a very pleasant holiday for him, and + he came home with a little money in his pocket to boot. + </p> + <p> + His second year at the school was much like the first. He plodded along at + his work. And now and then his two friends would come and drag him off for + an evening’s jollification. But after he had been racketing about with the + others, singing and shouting through the sleeping town—and at last + was alone and in his bed in the darkness, another and a very different + life began for him, face to face with his innermost self. Where are you + heading for, Peer? What are you aiming at in all your labours? And he + would try to answer devoutly, as at evening prayers: Where? Why, of + course, I am going to be a great engineer. And then? I will be one of the + Sons of Prometheus, that head the revolt against the tyranny of Heaven. + And then? I will help to raise the great ladder on which men can climb + aloft—higher and higher, up towards the light, and the spirit, and + mastery over nature. And then? Live happily, marry and have children, and + a rich and beautiful home. And then? Oh, well, one fine day, of course, + one must grow old and die. And then? And then? Aye, what then? + </p> + <p> + At these times he found a shadowy comfort in taking refuge in the world + where Louise stood—playing, as he always saw her—and cradling + himself on the smooth red billows of her music. But why was it that here + most of all he felt that hunger for—for something more? + </p> + <p> + Ferdinand finished his College course, and went out, as he had said, into + the great world, and Klaus went with him. And so throughout his third year + Peer was mostly to be seen alone, always with books under his arm, and + head bent forward. + </p> + <p> + Just as he was getting ready to go up for his final examination, a letter + from Ferdinand arrived, written from Egypt. “Come over here, young + fellow,” he wrote. “We have got good billets at last with a big British + firm—Brown Bros., of London—a firm that’s building railways in + Canada, bridges in India, harbour works in Argentina, and canals and + barrages here in Egypt. We can get you a nice little post as draughtsman + to begin with, and I enclose funds for the passage out. So come along.” + </p> + <p> + But Peer did not go at once. He stayed on another year at the College, as + assistant to the lecturer on mechanics, while himself going through the + road and railway construction course, as his half-brother had done. Some + secret instinct urged him not to be left behind even in this. + </p> + <p> + As the year went on the letters from his two comrades became more and more + pressing and tempting. “Out here,” wrote Klaus, “the engineer is a + missionary, proclaimer, not Jehovah, but the power and culture of Europe. + You’re bound to take a hand in that, my boy. There’s work worthy of a + great general waiting for you here.” + </p> + <p> + At last, one autumn day, when the woods stood yellow all around the town, + Peer drove away from his home with a big new travelling-trunk strapped to + the driver’s seat. He had been up to the churchyard before starting, with + a little bunch of flowers for Louise’s grave. Who could say if he would + ever see it again? + </p> + <p> + At the station he stood for a moment looking back over the old city with + its cathedral, and the ancient fortress, where the sentry was pacing back + and forth against the skyline. Was this the end of his youth? Louise—the + room above the stables—the hospital, the lazarette, the College. . . + . And there lay the fjord, and far out somewhere on the coast there stood + no doubt a little grey fisher-hut, where a pock-marked goodwife and her + bow-legged goodman had perhaps even now received the parcel of coffee and + tobacco sent them as a parting gift. + </p> + <p> + And so Peer journeyed to the capital, and from there out into the wide + world. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK II + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter I + </h2> + <p> + Some years had passed—a good many years—and once more summer + had come, and June. A passenger steamer, bound from Antwerp to + Christiania, was ploughing her way one evening over a sea so motionlessly + calm that it seemed a single vast mirror filled with a sky of grey and + pink-tinged clouds. There were plenty of passengers on board, and no one + felt inclined for bed; it was so warm, so beautiful on deck. Some artists, + on their way home from Paris or Munich, cast about for amusements to pass + the time; some ordered wine, others had unearthed a concertina, and very + soon, no one knew how, a dance was in full swing. “No, my dear,” said one + or two cautious mothers to their girls, “certainly not.” But before long + the mothers were dancing themselves. Then there was a doctor in + spectacles, who stood up on a barrel and made a speech; and presently two + of the artists caught hold of the grey-bearded captain and chaired him + round the deck. The night was so clear, the skies so ruddily beautiful, + the air so soft, and out here on the open sea all hearts were light and + happy. + </p> + <p> + “Who’s that wooden-faced beggar over there that’s too high and mighty for + a little fun?” asked Storaker the painter, of his friend the sculptor + Praas. + </p> + <p> + “That fellow? Oh, he’s the one that was so infernally instructive at + dinner, when we were talking about Egyptian vases.” + </p> + <p> + “So it is, by Jove! Schoolmaster abroad, I should think. When we got on to + Athens and Greek sculpture he condescended to set us right about that, + too.” + </p> + <p> + “I heard him this morning holding forth to the doctor on Assyriology. No + wonder he doesn’t dance!” + </p> + <p> + The passenger they were speaking of was a man of middle height, between + thirty and forty apparently, who lay stretched in a deck-chair a little + way off. He was dressed in grey throughout, from his travelling-cap to the + spats above his brown shoes. His face was sallow, and the short brown + beard was flecked with grey. But his eyes had gay little gleams in them as + they followed the dancers. It was Peer Holm. + </p> + <p> + As he sat there watching, it annoyed him to feel that he could not let + himself go like the others. But it was so long since he had mixed with his + own countrymen, that he felt insecure of his footing and almost like a + foreigner among them. Besides, in a few hours now they should sight the + skerries on the Norwegian coast; and the thought awoke in him a strange + excitement—it was a moment he had dreamed of many and many a time + out there in the wide world. + </p> + <p> + After a while stillness fell on the decks around him, and he too went + below, but lay down in his cabin without undressing. He thought of the + time when he had passed that way on the outward voyage, poor and unknown, + and had watched the last island of his native land sink below the sea-rim. + Much had happened since then—and now that he had at last come home, + what life awaited him there? + </p> + <p> + A little after two in the morning he came on deck again, but stood still + in astonishment at finding that the vessel was now boring her way through + a thick woolly fog. The devil! thought he, beginning to tramp up and down + the deck impatiently. It seemed that his great moment was to be lost—spoiled + for him! But suddenly he stopped by the railing, and stood gazing out into + the east. + </p> + <p> + What was that? Far out in the depths of the woolly fog a glowing spot + appeared; the grey mass around grew alive, began to move, to redden, to + thin out as if it were streaming up in flames. Ah! now he knew! It was the + globe of the sun, rising out of the sea. On board, every point where the + night’s moisture had lodged began to shine in gold. Each moment it grew + clearer and lighter, and the eye reached farther. And before he could take + in what was happening, the grey darkness had rolled itself up into mounds, + into mountains, that grew buoyant and floated aloft and melted away. And + there, all revealed, lay the fresh bright morning, with a clear sun-filled + sky over the blue sea. + </p> + <p> + It was time now to get out his field-glasses. For a long time he stood + motionless, gazing intently through them. + </p> + <p> + There! Was it his fancy? No, there far ahead he can see clearly now a + darker strip between sky and sea. It’s the first skerry. It is Norway, at + last! + </p> + <p> + Peer felt a sudden catch in his breath; he could hardly stand still, but + he stopped again and again in his walk to look once more at the far-off + strip of grey. And now there were seabirds too, with long necks and + swiftly-beating wings. Welcome home! + </p> + <p> + And now the steamer is ploughing in among the skerries, and a world of + rocks and islets unfolds on every side. There is the first red fisher-hut. + And then the entrance to Christiansand, between wooded hills and islands, + where white cottages shine out, each with its patch of green grassland and + its flagstaff before it. + </p> + <p> + Peer watched it all, drinking it in like nourishment. How good it all + tasted—he felt it would be long before he had drunk his fill. + </p> + <p> + Then came the voyage up along the coast, all through a day of brilliant + sunshine and a luminous night. He saw the blue sounds with swarms of white + gulls hovering above them, the little coast-towns with their long + white-painted wooden houses, and flowers in the windows. He had never + passed this way before, and yet something in him seemed to nod and say: “I + know myself again here.” All the way up the Christiania Fjord there was + the scent of leaves and meadows; big farms stood by the shore shining in + the sun. This was what a great farm looked like. He nodded again. So warm + and fruitful it all seemed, and dear to him as home—though he knew + that, after all, he would be little better than a tourist in his own + country. There was no one waiting for him, no one to take him in. Still, + some day things might be very different. + </p> + <p> + As the ship drew alongside the quay at Christiania, the other passengers + lined the rail, friends and relations came aboard, there were tears and + laughter and kisses and embraces. Peer lifted his hat as he passed down + the gangway, but no one had time to notice him just now. And when he had + found a hotel porter to look after his luggage, he walked up alone through + the town, as if he were a stranger. + </p> + <p> + The light nights made it difficult to sleep—he had actually + forgotten that it was light all night long. And this was a capital city—yet + so touchingly small, it seemed but a few steps wherever he went. These + were his countrymen, but he knew no one among them; there was no one to + greet him. Still, he thought again, some day all this might be very + different. + </p> + <p> + At last, one day as he stood looking at the window of a bookseller’s shop, + he heard a voice behind him: “Why, bless me! surely it’s Peer Holm!” It + was one of his fellow-students at the Technical College, Reidar Langberg, + pale and thin now as ever. He had been a shining light at the College, but + now—now he looked shabby, worn and aged. + </p> + <p> + “I hardly knew you again,” said Peer, grasping the other’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “And you’re a millionaire, so they say—and famous, out in the big + world?” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite so bad as that, old fellow. But what about you?” + </p> + <p> + “I? Oh, don’t talk about me.” And as they walked down the street together, + Langberg poured out his tale, of how times were desperately bad, and + conditions at home here simply strangled a man. He had started ten or + twelve years ago as a draughtsman in the offices of the State Railways, + and was still there, with a growing family—and “such pay—such + pay, my dear fellow!” He threw up his eyes and clasped his hands + despairingly. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” said Peer, interrupting him. “Where is the best place in + Christiania to go and have a good time in the evening?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, St. Hans Hill, for instance. There’s music there.” + </p> + <p> + “Right—will you come and dine with me there, to-night—shall we + say eight o’clock?” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks. I should think I would!” + </p> + <p> + Peer arrived in good time, and engaged a table on a verandah. Langberg + made his appearance shortly after, dressed in his well-saved Sunday best—faded + frock-coat, light trousers bagged at the knees, and a straw hat yellow + with age. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a pleasure to have someone to talk to again,” said Peer. “For the + last year or so I’ve been knocking about pretty much by myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it as long as that since you left Egypt?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; longer. I’ve been in Abyssinia since then.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course, I remember now. It was in the papers. Building a railway + for King Menelik, weren’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes. But the last eighteen months or so I’ve been idling—running + about to theatres and museums and so forth. I began at Athens and finished + up with London. I remember one day sitting on the steps of the Parthenon + declaiming the Antigone—and a moment with some meaning in it seemed + to have come at last.” + </p> + <p> + “But, dash it, man, you’re surely not comparing such trifles with a thing + like the great Nile Barrage? You were on that for some years, weren’t you? + Do let’s hear something about that. Up by the first cataract, wasn’t it? + And hadn’t you enormous quarries there on the spot? You see, even sitting + at home here, I haven’t quite lost touch. But you—good Lord! what + things you must have seen! Fancy living at—what was the name of the + town again?” + </p> + <p> + “Assuan,” answered Peer indifferently, looking out over the gardens, where + more and more visitors kept arriving. + </p> + <p> + “They say the barrage is as great a miracle as the Pyramids. How many + sluice-gates are there again—a hundred and . . . ?” + </p> + <p> + “Two hundred and sixteen,” said Peer. “Look!” he broke off. “Do you know + those girls over there?” He nodded towards a party of girls in light + dresses who were sitting down at a table close by. + </p> + <p> + Langberg shook his head. He was greedy for news from the great world + without, which he had never had the luck to see. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve often wondered,” he went on, “how you managed to come to the front + so in that sort of work—railways and barrages, and so forth—when, + your original line was mechanical engineering. Of course you did do an + extra year on the roads and railway side; but . . .” + </p> + <p> + Oh, this shining light of the schools! + </p> + <p> + “What do you say to a glass of champagne?” said Peer. “How do you like it? + Sweet or dry?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, is there any difference? I really didn’t know. But when one’s a + millionaire, of course . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not a millionaire,” said Peer with a smile, and beckoned to a waiter. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I heard you were. Didn’t you invent a new motor-pump that drove all + the other types out of the field? And besides—that Abyssinian + railway. Oh well, well!” he sighed, “it’s a good thing somebody’s lucky. + The rest of us shouldn’t complain. But how about the other two—Klaus + Brock and Ferdinand Holm? What are they doing now?” + </p> + <p> + “Klaus is looking after the Khedive’s estates at Edfina. Agriculture by + steam power; his own railway lines to bring in the produce, and so on. + Yes, Klaus has ended up in a nice little place of his own. His district’s + bigger than the kingdom of Denmark.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” Langberg nearly fell off his chair. “And Ferdinand Holm; + what about him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he’s got bigger things on hand. Went nosing about the Libyan desert, + and found that considerable tracts of it have water-veins only a few yards + beneath the surface. If so, of course, it’s only a question of proper + plant to turn an enormous area into a paradise for corn-growing.” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious! What a discovery!” gasped the other, almost breathless + now. + </p> + <p> + Peer looked out over the fjord, and went on: “Last year he managed at last + to get the Khedive interested, and they’ve started a joint-stock company + now, with a capital of some millions. Ferdinand is chief engineer.” + </p> + <p> + “And what’s his salary? As much as fifty thousand crowns?” + </p> + <p> + “His pay is two hundred thousand francs a year,” said Peer, not without + some fear that his companion might faint. “Yes, he’s an able fellow, is + Ferdinand.” + </p> + <p> + It took Langberg some time to get his breath again. At last he asked, with + a sidelong glance: + </p> + <p> + “And you and Klaus Brock—I suppose you’ve put your millions in his + company?” + </p> + <p> + Peer smiled as he sat looking out over the garden. Lifting his glass, + “Your good health,” he said, for all answer. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been in America, too?” went on the other. “No, I suppose not!” + </p> + <p> + “America? Yes, a few years back, when I was with Brown Bros., they sent me + over one time to buy plant. Nothing so surprising in that, is there?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, of course not. I was only thinking—you went about there, I + daresay, and saw all the wonderful things—the miracles of science + they’re always producing.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, if you only knew how deadly sick I am of miracles of + science! What I’m longing for is a country watermill that takes + twenty-four hours to grind a sack of corn.” + </p> + <p> + “What? What do you say?” Langberg bounced in his chair. “Ha-ha-ha! You’re + the same old man, I can see.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m perfectly serious,” said Peer, lifting his glass towards the other. + “Come. Here’s to our old days together!” + </p> + <p> + “Aye—thanks, a thousand thanks—to our old days together!—Ah, + delicious! Well, then, I suppose you’ve fallen in love away down there in + the land of the barbarians? Haven’t you? Ha-ha-ha!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you call Egypt a land of barbarians?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, don’t the fellahs still yoke their wives to their ploughs?” + </p> + <p> + “A fellah will sit all night long outside his hut and gaze up at the stars + and give himself time to dream. And a merchant prince in Vienna will + dictate business letters in his automobile as he’s driving to the theatre, + and write telegrams as he sits in the stalls. One fine day he’ll be + sitting in his private box with a telephone at one ear and listening to + the opera with the other. That’s what the miracles of science are doing + for us. Awe-inspiring, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “And you talk like that—a man that’s helped to harness the Nile, and + has built railways through the desert?” + </p> + <p> + Peer shrugged his shoulders, and offered the other a cigar from his case. + A waiter appeared with coffee. + </p> + <p> + “To help mankind to make quicker progress—is that nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord! What I’d like to know is, where mankind are making for, that + they’re in such a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “That the Nile Barrage has doubled the production of corn in Egypt—created + the possibilities of life for millions of human beings—is that + nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “My good fellow, do you really think there aren’t enough fools on this + earth already? Have we too little wailing and misery and discontent and + class-hatred as it is? Why must we go about to double it?” + </p> + <p> + “But hang it all, man—what about European culture? Surely you felt + yourself a sort of missionary of civilisation, where you have been.” + </p> + <p> + “The spread of European civilisation in the East simply means that half a + dozen big financiers in London or Paris take a fancy to a certain strip of + Africa or Asia. They press a button, and out come all the ministers and + generals and missionaries and engineers with a bow: At your service, + gentlemen! + </p> + <p> + “Culture! One wheel begets ten new ones. Brr-rrr! And the ten again + another hundred. Brr-rr-rrr—more speed, more competition—and + all for what? For culture? No, my friend, for money. Missionary! I tell + you, as long as Western Europe with all its wonders of modern science and + its Christianity and its political reforms hasn’t turned out a better type + of humanity than the mean ruck of men we have now—we’d do best to + stay at home and hold our counfounded jaw. Here’s ourselves!” and Peer + emptied his glass. + </p> + <p> + This was a sad hearing for poor Langberg. For he had been used to comfort + himself in his daily round with the thought that even he, in his modest + sphere, was doing his share in the great work of civilising the world. + </p> + <p> + At last he leaned back, watching the smoke from his cigar, and smiling a + little. + </p> + <p> + “I remember a young fellow at the College,” he said, “who used to talk a + good deal about Prometheus, and the grand work of liberating humanity, by + stealing new and ever new fire from Olympus.” + </p> + <p> + “That was me—yes,” said Peer with a laugh. “As a matter of fact, I + was only quoting Ferdinand Holm.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t believe in all that now?” + </p> + <p> + “It strikes me that fire and steel are rapidly turning men into beasts. + Machinery is killing more and more of what we call the godlike in us.” + </p> + <p> + “But, good heavens, man! Surely a man can be a Christian even if . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Christian as much as you like. But don’t you think it might soon be time + we found something better to worship than an ascetic on a cross? Are we to + keep on for ever singing Hallelujah because we’ve saved our own skins and + yet can haggle ourselves into heaven? Is that religion?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, perhaps not. But I don’t know . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Neither do I. But it’s all the same; for anyhow no such thing as + religious feeling exists any longer. Machinery is killing our longings for + eternity, too. Ask the good people in the great cities. They spend + Christmas Eve playing tunes from The Dollar Princess on the gramophone.” + </p> + <p> + Langberg sat for a while watching the other attentively. Peer sat smoking + slowly; his face was flushed with the wine, but from time to time his eyes + half-closed, and his thoughts seemed to be wandering in other fields than + these. + </p> + <p> + “And what do you think of doing now you are home again?” asked his + companion at last. + </p> + <p> + Peer opened his eyes. “Doing? Oh, I don’t know. Look about me first of + all. Then perhaps I may find a cottar’s croft somewhere and settle down + and marry a dairymaid. Here’s luck!” + </p> + <p> + The gardens were full now of people in light summer dress, and in the + luminous evening a constant ripple of laughter and gay voices came up to + them. Peer looked curiously at the crowd, all strangers to him, and asked + his companion the names of some of the people. Langberg pointed out one or + two celebrities—a Cabinet Minister sitting near by, a famous + explorer a little farther off. “But I don’t know them personally,” he + added. “Can’t afford society on that scale, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful it is here!” said Peer, looking out once more at the yellow + shimmer of light above the fjord. “And how good it is to be home again!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter II + </h2> + <p> + He sat in the train on his way up-country, and from the carriage window + watched farms and meadows and tree-lined roads slide past. Where was he + going? He did not know himself. Why should not a man start off at + haphazard, and get out when the mood takes him? At last he was able to + travel through his own country without having to think of half-pennies. He + could let the days pass over his head without care or trouble, and give + himself good leisure to enjoy any beauty that came in his way. + </p> + <p> + There is Mjosen, the broad lake with the rich farmlands and long wooded + ridges on either side. He had never been here before, yet it seemed as if + something in him nodded a recognition to it all. Once more he sat drinking + in the rich, fruitful landscape—the wooded hills, the fields and + meadows seemed to spread themselves out over empty places in his mind. + </p> + <p> + But later in the day the landscape narrowed and they were in + Gudbrandsdalen, where the sunburned farms are set on green slopes between + the river and the mountains. Peer’s head was full of pictures from abroad, + from the desert sands with their scorched palm-trees to the canals of + Venice. But here—he nodded again. Here he was at home, though he had + never seen the place before; just this it was which had been calling to + him all through his long years of exile. + </p> + <p> + At last on a sudden he gathered up his traps and got out, without the + least idea even of the name of the station. A meal at the hotel, a + knapsack on his back, and hey!—there before him lies the road, up + into the hills. + </p> + <p> + Alone? What matter, when there are endless things that greet him from + every side with “Welcome home!” The road is steep, the air grows lighter, + the homesteads smaller. At last the huts look like little matchboxes—from + the valley, no doubt, it must seem as if the people up here were living + among the clouds. But many and many a youth must have followed this road + in the evenings, going up to court his Mari or his Kari at the saeter-hut, + the same road and the same errand one generation after another. To Peer it + seemed as if all those lads now bore him company—aye, as if he + discovered in himself something of wanton youth that had managed to get + free at last. + </p> + <p> + Puh! His coat must come off and his cap go into the knapsack. Now, as the + valley sinks and sinks farther beneath him, the view across it widens + farther and farther out over the uplands beyond. Brown hills and blue, + ridges livid or mossy-grey in the setting sun, rising and falling wave + behind wave, and beyond all a great snowfield, like a sea of white + breakers foaming against the sky. But surely he had seen all this before? + </p> + <p> + Ah! now he knew; it was the Lofoten Sea over again—with its white + foam-crested combers and long-drawn, heavy-breathing swell—a rolling + ocean turned to rock. Peer halted a moment leaning on his stick, and his + eyes half-closed. Could he not feel that same ocean-swell rising and + sinking in his own being? Did not the same waves surge through the + centuries, carrying the generations away with them upon great wanderings? + And in daily life the wave rolls us along in the old familiar rhythm, and + not one in ten thousand lifts his head above it to ask: whither and why! + Even now just such a little wave has hold of him, taking him—whither + and why? Well, the coming days might show; meanwhile, there beyond was the + sea of stone rolling its eternal cadence under the endless sky. + </p> + <p> + He wiped his forehead and turned and went his way. + </p> + <p> + But what is that far off in the north-east? three sisters in white shawls, + lifting their heads to heaven—that must be Rondane. And see how the + evening sun is kindling the white peaks to purple and gold. + </p> + <p> + Puh!—only one more hill now, and here is the top at last. And there + ahead lie the great uplands, with marsh and mound and gleaming tarns. Ah, + what a relief! What wonder that his step grows lighter and quicker? Before + he knows it he is singing aloud in mere gaiety of heart. Ah, dear God, + what if after all it were not too late to be young! + </p> + <p> + A saeter. A little hut, standing on a patch of green, with split-stick + fence and a long cow-house of rough planks—it must be a saeter! And + listen—isn’t that a girl singing? Peer slipped softly through the + gate and stood listening against the wall of the byre. “Shap, shap, shap,” + went the streams of milk against the pail. It must be a fairy sitting + milking in there. Then came the voice: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oh, Sunday eve, oh, Sunday eve, + Ever wast thou my dearest eve! +</pre> + <p> + “Shap, shap, shap!” went the milk once more in the pail—and suddenly + Peer joined in: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oh bright, oh gentle Sunday eve— + Wilt ever be my dearest eve! +</pre> + <p> + The milking stopped, a cowbell tinkled as the cow turned her inquiring + face, and a girl’s light-brown head of hair was thrust out of the doorway—soon + followed by the girl herself, slender, eighteen, red-cheeked, fresh and + smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening,” said Peer, stretching out his hand. + </p> + <p> + The girl looked at him for a moment, then cast a glance at her own clothes—as + women will when they see a man who takes their fancy. + </p> + <p> + “An’ who may you be?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Can you cook me some cream-porridge?” + </p> + <p> + “A’ must finish milking first, then.” + </p> + <p> + Here was a job that Peer could help with. He took off his knapsack, washed + his hands, and was soon seated on a stool in the close sweet air of the + shed, milking busily. Then he fetched water, and chopped some wood for the + fire, the girl gazing at him all the time, no doubt wondering who this + crazy person could be. When the porridge stood ready on the table, he + insisted on her sitting down close to him and sharing the meal. They ate a + little, and then laughed a little, and then chatted, and then ate and then + laughed again. When he asked what he had to pay, the girl said: “Whatever + you like”—and he gave her two crowns and then bent her head back and + kissed her lips. “What’s the man up to?” he heard her gasp behind him as + he passed out; when he had gone a good way and turned to look back, there + she was in the doorway, shading her eyes and watching him. + </p> + <p> + Whither away now? Well, he was pretty sure to reach some other inhabited + place before night. This, he felt, was not his abiding-place. No, it was + not here. + </p> + <p> + It was nearly midnight when he stood by the shore of a broad mountain + lake, beneath a snow-flecked hill-side. Here were a couple of saeters, and + across the lake, on a wooded island, stood a small frame house that looked + like some city people’s summer cottage. And see—over the lake, that + still mirrored the evening red, a boat appeared moving towards the island, + and two white-sleeved girls sat at the oars, singing as they rowed. A + strange feeling came over him. Here—here he would stay. + </p> + <p> + In the saeter-hut stood an enormously fat woman, with a rope round her + middle, evidently ready to go to bed. Could she put him up for the night? + Why, yes, she supposed so—and she rolled off into another room. And + soon he was lying in a tiny chamber, in a bed with a mountainous mattress + and a quilt. There was a fresh smell from the juniper twigs strewed about + the newly-washed floor, and the cheeses, which stood in rows all round the + shelf-lined walls. Ah! he had slept in many places and fashions—at + sea in a Lofoten boat; on the swaying back of a camel; in tents out in the + moonlit desert; and in palaces of the Arabian Nights, where dwarfs fanned + him with palm-leaves to drive away the heat, and called him pasha. But + here, at last, he had found a place where it was good to be. And he closed + his eyes, and lay listening to the murmur of a little stream outside in + the light summer night, till he fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + Late in the forenoon of the next day he was awakened by the entry of the + old woman with coffee. Then a plunge into the blue-green water of the + mountain lake, a short swim, and back to find grilled trout and new-baked + waffles and thick cream for lunch. + </p> + <p> + Yes, said the old woman, if he could get along with the sort of victuals + she could cook, he might stay here a few days and welcome. The bed was + standing there empty, anyway. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter III + </h2> + <p> + So Peer stays on and goes fishing. He catches little; but time goes + leisurely here, and the summer lies soft and warm over the brown and blue + hillsides. He has soon learned that a merchant named Uthoug, from Ringeby, + is living in the house on the island, with his wife and daughter. And what + of it? + </p> + <p> + Often he would lie in his boat, smoking his pipe, and giving himself up to + quiet dreams that came and passed. A young girl in a white boat, moving + over red waters in the evening—a secret meeting on an island—no + one must know just yet. . . . Would it ever happen to him? Ah, no. + </p> + <p> + The sun goes down, there come sounds of cow-bells nearing the saeters, the + musical cries and calls of the saeter-girls, the lowing of the cattle. The + mountains stand silent in the distance, their snow-clad tops grown golden; + the stream slides rippling by, murmuring on through the luminous nights. + </p> + <p> + Then at last came the day of all days. + </p> + <p> + He had gone out for a long tramp at random over the hills, making his way + by compass, and noting landmarks to guide him back. Here was a marsh + covered with cloud-berries—the taste brought back his own childhood. + He wandered on up a pale-brown ridge flecked with red heather—and + what was that ahead? Smoke? He made towards it. Yes, it was smoke. A + ptarmigan fluttered out in front of him, with a brood of tiny youngsters + at her heels—Lord, what a shave!—he stopped short to avoid + treading on them. The smoke meant someone near—possibly a camp of + Lapps. Let’s go and see. + </p> + <p> + He topped the last mound, and there was the fire just below. Two girls + jumped to their feet; there was a bright coffee-kettle on the fire, and on + the moss-covered ground close by bread and butter and sandwiches laid out + on a paper tablecloth. + </p> + <p> + Peer stopped short in surprise. The girls gazed at him for a moment, and + he at them, all three with a hesitating smile. + </p> + <p> + At last Peer lifted his hat and asked the way to Rustad saeter. It took + them some time to explain this, and then they asked him the time. He told + them exactly to the minute, and then showed them his watch so that they + might see for themselves. All this took more time. Meanwhile, they had + inspected each other, and found no reason to part company just yet. One of + the girls was tall, slender of figure, with a warm-coloured oval face and + dark brown hair. Her eyebrows were thick and met above the nose, + delightful to look at. She wore a blue serge dress, with the skirt kilted + up a little, leaving her ankles visible. The other was a blonde, smaller + of stature, and with a melancholy face, though she smiled constantly. + “Oh,” she said suddenly, “have you a pocket-knife by any chance?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes!” Peer was just moving off, but gladly seized the opportunity to + stay a while. + </p> + <p> + “We’ve a tin of sardines here, and nothing to open it with,” said the dark + one. + </p> + <p> + “Let me try,” said Peer. As luck would have it, he managed to cut himself + a little, and the two girls tumbled over each other to tie up the wound. + It ended, of course, with their asking him to join their coffee-party. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Merle Uthoug,” said the dark one, with a curtsy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then, it’s your father who has the place on the island in the lake?” + </p> + <p> + “My name’s only Mork—Thea Mork. My father is a lawyer, and we have a + little cottage farther up the lake,” said the blonde. + </p> + <p> + Peer was about to introduce himself, when the dark girl interrupted: “Oh, + we know you already,” she said. “We’ve seen you out rowing on the lake so + often. And we had to find out who you were. We have a good pair of glasses + . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Merle!” broke in her companion warningly. + </p> + <p> + “. . . and then, yesterday, we sent one of the maids over reconnoitring, + to make inquiries and bring us a full report.” + </p> + <p> + “Merle! How can you say such things?” + </p> + <p> + It was a cheery little feast. Ah! how young they were, these two girls, + and how they laughed at a joke, and what quantities of bread and butter + and coffee they all three disposed of! Merle now and again would give + their companion a sidelong glance, while Thea laughed at all the wild + things her friend said, and scolded her, and looked anxiously at Peer. + </p> + <p> + And now the sun was nearing the shoulder of a hill far in the west, and + evening was falling. They packed up their things, and Peer was loaded up + with a big bag of cloud-berries on his back, and a tin pail to carry in + his hand. “Give him some more,” said Merle. “It’ll do him good to work for + a change.” + </p> + <p> + “Merle, you really are too bad!” + </p> + <p> + “Here you are,” said the girl, and slid the handle of a basket into his + other hand. + </p> + <p> + Then they set out down the hill. Merle sang and yodelled as they went; + then Peer sang, and then they all three sang together. And when they came + to a heather-tussock or a puddle, they did not trouble to go round, but + just jumped over it, and then gave another jump for the fun of the thing. + </p> + <p> + They passed the saeter and went on down to the water’s edge, and Peer + proposed to row them home. And so they rowed across. And the whole time + they sat talking and laughing together as if they had known each other for + years. + </p> + <p> + The boat touched land just below the cottage, and a broad-shouldered man + with a grey beard and a straw hat came down to meet them. “Oh, father, are + you back again?” cried Merle, and, springing ashore, she flung her arms + round his neck. The two exchanged some whispered words, and the father + glanced at Peer. Then, taking off his hat, he came towards him and said + politely, “It was very kind of you to help the girls down.” + </p> + <p> + “This is Herr Holm, engineer and Egyptian,” said Merle, “and this is + father.” + </p> + <p> + “I hear we are neighbours,” said Uthoug. “We’re just going to have tea, so + if you have nothing better to do, perhaps you will join us.” + </p> + <p> + Outside the cottage stood a grey-haired lady with a pale face, wearing + spectacles. She had a thick white woollen shawl over her shoulders, but + even so she seemed to feel cold. “Welcome,” she said, and Peer thought + there was a tremor in her voice. + </p> + <p> + There were two small low rooms with an open fireplace in the one, and in + it there stood a table ready laid. But from the moment Merle entered the + house, she took command of everything, and whisked in and out. Soon there + was the sound of fish cooking in the kitchen, and a moment later she came + in with a plate full of lettuce, and said: “Mr. Egyptian—you can + make us an Arabian salad, can’t you?” + </p> + <p> + Peer was delighted. “I should think so,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll find salt and pepper and vinegar and oil on the table there, and + that’s all we possess in the way of condiments. But it must be a real + Arabian salad all the same, if you please!” And out she went again, while + Peer busied himself with the salad. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will excuse my daughter,” said Fru Uthoug, turning her pale + face towards him and looking through her spectacles. “She is not really so + wild as she seems.” + </p> + <p> + Uthoug himself walked up and down the room, chatting to Peer and asking a + great many questions about conditions in Egypt. He knew something about + the Mahdi, and General Gordon, and Khartoum, and the strained relations + between the Khedive and the Sultan. He was evidently a diligent reader of + the newspapers, and Peer gathered that he was a Radical, and a man of some + weight in his party. And he looked as if there was plenty of fire + smouldering under his reddish eyelids: “A bad man to fall out with,” + thought Peer. + </p> + <p> + They sat down to supper, and Peer noticed that Fru Uthoug grew less pale + and anxious as her daughter laughed and joked and chattered. There even + came a slight glow at last into the faded cheeks; the eyes behind the + spectacles seemed to shine with a light borrowed from her daughter’s. But + her husband seemed not to notice anything, and tried all the time to go on + talking about the Mahdi and the Khedive and the Sultan. + </p> + <p> + So for the first time for many years Peer sat down to table in a Norwegian + home—and how good it was! Would he ever have a home of his own, he + wondered. + </p> + <p> + After the meal, a mandolin was brought out, and they sat round the fire in + the great fireplace and had some music. Until at last Merle rose and said: + “Now, mother, it’s time you went to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear,” came the answer submissively, and Fru Uthoug said good-night, + and Merle led her off. + </p> + <p> + Peer had risen to take leave, when Merle came in again. “Why,” she said, + “you’re surely not going off before you’ve rowed Thea home?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Merle, please . . .” put in the other. + </p> + <p> + But when the two had taken their places in the boat and were just about to + start up the lake, Merle came running down and said she might just as well + come too. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later, having seen the young girl safely ashore at her + father’s place, Merle and Peer were alone, rowing back through the still + night over the waters of the lake, golden in the light and dark blue in + the shadows. Merle leaned back in the stern, silent, trailing a small + branch along the surface of the water behind. After a while Peer laid in + his oars and let the boat drift. + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful it is!” he said. + </p> + <p> + The girl lifted her head and looked round. “Yes,” she answered, and Peer + fancied her voice had taken a new tone. + </p> + <p> + It was past midnight. Heights and woods and saeters lay lifeless in the + soft suffused reddish light. The lake-trout were not rising any more, but + now and again the screech of a cock-ptarmigan could be heard among the + withies. + </p> + <p> + “What made you come just here for your holiday, I wonder,” she asked + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “I leave everything to chance, Froken Uthoug. It just happened so. It’s + all so homelike here, wherever one goes. And it is so wonderful to be home + in Norway again.” + </p> + <p> + “But haven’t you been to see your people—your father and mother—since + you came home?” + </p> + <p> + “I—! Do you suppose I have a father and mother?” + </p> + <p> + “But near relations—surely you must have a brother or sister + somewhere in the world?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, if one only had! Though, after all, one can get on without.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him searchingly, as if trying to see whether he spoke in + earnest. Then she said: + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that mother dreamed of you before you came?” + </p> + <p> + “Of me?” Peer’s eyes opened wide. “What did she dream about me?” + </p> + <p> + A sudden flush came to the girl’s face, and she shook her head. “It’s + foolish of me to sit here and tell you all this. But you see that was why + we wanted so much to find out about you when you came. And it gives me a + sort of feeling of our having known each other a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “You appear to have a very constant flow of high spirits, Froken Uthoug!” + </p> + <p> + “I? Why do you think—? Oh, well, yes. One can come by most things, + you know, if one has to have them.” + </p> + <p> + “Even high spirits?” + </p> + <p> + She turned her head and looked towards the shore. “Some day perhaps—if + we should come to be friends—I’ll tell you more about it.” + </p> + <p> + Peer bent to his oars and rowed on. The stillness of the night drew them + nearer and nearer together, and made them silent; only now and then they + would look at each other and smile. + </p> + <p> + “What mysterious creature is this I have come upon?” thought Peer. She + might be about one-or two-and-twenty. She sat there with bowed head, and + in this soft glow the oval face had a strange light of dreams upon it. But + suddenly her glance came back and rested on him again, and then she + smiled, and he saw that her mouth was large and her lips full and red. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I had been all over the world, like you,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Have you never been abroad, Froken Uthoug?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I spent a winter in Berlin, once, and a few months in South Germany. I + played the violin a little, you see; and I hoped to take it up seriously + abroad and make something of it—but—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, why shouldn’t you?” + </p> + <p> + She was silent for a little, then at last she said: “I suppose you are + sure to know about it some day, so I may just as well tell you now. Mother + has been out of her mind.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Froken—” + </p> + <p> + “And when she’s at home my—high spirits are needed to help her to be + more or less herself.” + </p> + <p> + He felt an impulse to rise and go to the girl, and take her head between + his hands. But she looked up, with a melancholy smile; their eyes met in a + long look, and she forgot to withdraw her glance. + </p> + <p> + “I must go ashore now,” she said at last. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, so soon! Why, we have hardly begun our talk!” + </p> + <p> + “I must go ashore now,” she repeated; and her voice, though still gentle, + was not to be gainsaid. + </p> + <p> + At last Peer was alone, rowing back to his saeter. As he rowed he watched + the girl going slowly up towards the cottage. When she reached the door + she turned for the first time and waved to him. Then she stood for a + moment looking after him, and then opened the door and disappeared. He + gazed at the door some time longer, as if expecting to see it open again, + but no sign of life was to be seen. + </p> + <p> + The sun’s rim was showing now above the distant ranges in the east, and + the white peaks in the north and west kindled in the morning glow. Peer + laid in his oars again, and rested, with his elbows on his knees and his + head in his hands. What could this thing be that had befallen him today? + </p> + <p> + How could those peaks stand round so aloof and indifferent, and leave him + here disconsolate and alone? + </p> + <p> + What was it, this new rushing in his ears; this new rhythm of his pulse? + He lay back at last in the bottom of the boat, with hands clasped behind + his head, and let boat and all things drift. + </p> + <p> + And when the glare of the rising sun came slanting into the boat and beat + dazzlingly in his face, he only turned his head a little and let it shine + full upon him. + </p> + <p> + Now she is lying asleep over there, the morning streaming red through her + window—of whom is she dreaming as she sleeps? + </p> + <p> + Have you ever seen such eyebrows before? To press one’s lips to them—to + take her head between one’s hand . . . and so it is to save your mother + that you give up your own dreams, and to warm her soul that you keep that + flame of gladness burning in you? Is that the sort you are? + </p> + <p> + Merle—was ever such a name? Are you called Merle? + </p> + <p> + Day spreads over the heavens, kindling all the night-clouds, great and + small, to gold and scarlet. And here he lies, rocking, rocking, on no + lake, but on a red stately-heaving ocean swell. + </p> + <p> + Ah! till now your mind has been so filled with cold mechanics, with + calculations, with steel and fire. More and more knowledge, ever more + striving to understand all things, to know all, to master all. But + meanwhile, the tones of the hymn died within you, and the hunger for that + which lies beyond all things grew ever fiercer and fiercer. You thought it + was Norway that you needed—and now you are here. But is it enough? + </p> + <p> + Merle—is your name Merle? + </p> + <p> + There is nothing that can be likened to the first day of love. All your + learning, your travel, and deeds and dreams—all has been nothing but + dry firewood that you have dragged and heaped together. And now has come a + spark, and the whole heap blazes up, casting its red glow over earth and + heaven, and you stretch out your cold hands, and warm them, and shiver + with joy that a new bliss has come upon the earth. + </p> + <p> + And all that you could not understand—the relation between the spark + of eternity in your soul and the Power above, and the whole of endless + space—has all of a sudden become so clear that you lie here + trembling with joy at seeing to the very bottom of the infinite enigma. + </p> + <p> + You have but to take her by the hand, and “Here are we two,” you say to + the powers of life and death. “Here is she and here am I—we two”—and + you send the anthem rolling aloft—a strain from little Louise’s + fiddle-bow mingling with it—not to the vaultings of any church, but + into endless space itself. And Thou, Power above, now I understand Thee. + How could I ever take seriously a Power that sat on high playing with Sin + and Grace—but now I see Thee, not the bloodthirsty Jehovah, but a + golden-haired youth, the Light itself. We two worship Thee; not with a + wail of prayer, but with a great anthem, that has the World-All in it. All + our powers, our knowledge, our dreams—all are there. And each has + its own instrument, its own voice in the mighty chorus. The dawn reddening + over the hills is with us. The goat grazing on that northern hillside, + dazzled with sun-gold when it turns its head to the east—it is with + us, too. The waking birds are with us. A frog, crawling up out of a puddle + and stopping to wonder at the morning—it is there. Even the little + insect with diamonds on its wings—and the grass-blade with its pearl + of dew, trying to mirror as much of the sky as it can—it is there, + it is there, it is there. We are standing amid Love’s first day, and there + is no more talk of grace or doubt or faith or need of aid; only a rushing + sound of music rising to heaven from all the golden rivers in our hearts. + </p> + <p> + The saeters were beginning to wake. Musical cries came echoing as the + saeter-girls chid on the cattle, that moved slowly up to the northern + heights, with lowings and tinkling of bells. But Peer lay still where he + was—and presently the dairy-maid at the saeter caught sight of what + seemed an empty boat drifting on the lake, and was afraid some accident + had happened. + </p> + <p> + “Merle,” thought Peer, still lying motionless. “Is your name Merle?” + </p> + <p> + The dairy-maid was down by the waterside now, calling across toward the + boat. And at last she saw a man sit up, rubbing his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy on us!” she cried. “Lord be thanked that you’re there. And you + haven’t been in the whole blessed night!” + </p> + <p> + A goat with a broken leg, set in splints, had been left to stray at will + about the cattle-pens and in and out of the house, while its leg-bones + were setting. Peer must needs pick up the creature and carry it round for + a while in his arms, though it at once began chewing at his beard. When he + sat down to the breakfast-table, he found something so touching in the + look of the cream and butter, the bread and the coffee, that it seemed a + man would need a heart of stone to be willing to eat such things. And when + the old woman said he really ought to get some food into him, he sprang up + and embraced her, as far as his arms would go round. “Nice carryings on!” + she cried, struggling to free herself. But when he went so far as to + imprint a sounding kiss on her forehead, she fetched him a mighty push. + “Lord!” she said, “if the gomeril hasn’t gone clean out of his wits this + last night!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter IV + </h2> + <p> + Ringeby lay on the shore of a great lake; and was one of those busy + commercial towns which have sprung up in the last fifty years from a + nucleus consisting of a saw-mill and a flour-mill by the side of a + waterfall. Now quite a number of modern factories had spread upwards along + the river, and the place was a town with some four thousand inhabitants, + with a church of its own, a monster of a school building, and numbers of + yellow workmen’s dwellings scattered about at random in every direction. + Otherwise Ringeby was much like any other little town. There were two + lawyers, who fought for scraps of legal business, and the editors of two + local papers, who were constantly at loggerheads before the Conciliation + Board. There was a temperance lodge and Workers’ Union and a chapel and a + picture palace. And every Sunday afternoon the good citizens of Ringeby + walked out along the fjord, with their wives on their arms. On these + occasions most of the men wore frock coats and grey felt hats; but Enebak, + the tanner, being hunchbacked, preferred a tall silk hat, as better suited + to eke out his height. + </p> + <p> + On Saturday evenings, when twilight began to fall, the younger men would + meet at the corner outside Hammer’s store, to discuss the events of the + week. + </p> + <p> + “Have you heard the latest news?” asked Lovli, the bank cashier, of his + friend the telegraphist, who came up. + </p> + <p> + “News? Do you tell me that there’s ever any news in this accursed hole?” + </p> + <p> + “Merle Uthoug has come back from the mountains—engaged to be + married.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil she is! What does the old man say to that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, the old man will want an engineer if he’s to get the new + timber-mills into his clutches.” + </p> + <p> + “Is the man an engineer?” + </p> + <p> + “From Egypt. A Muhammadan, I daresay. Brown as a coffee-berry, and rolling + in money.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear that, Froken Bull? Stop a minute, here’s some news for you.” + </p> + <p> + The girl addressed turned aside and joined them. “Oh, the same piece of + news that’s all over the town, I suppose. Well, I can tell you, he’s most + tremendously nice.” + </p> + <p> + “Sh!” whispered the telegraphist. Peer Holm was just coming out of the + Grand Hotel, dressed in a grey suit, and with a dark coat over his arm. He + was trying to get a newly-lit cigar to draw, as he walked with a light + elastic step past the group at the corner. A little farther up the street + he encountered Merle, and took her arm, and the two walked off together, + the young people at the corner watching them as they went. + </p> + <p> + “And when is it to be?” asked the telegraphist. + </p> + <p> + “He wanted to be married immediately, I believe,” said Froken Bull, “but I + suppose they’ll have to wait till the banns are called, like other + people.” + </p> + <p> + Lorentz D. Uthoug’s long, yellow-painted wooden house stood facing the + market square; the office and the big ironmonger’s shop were on the ground + floor, and the family lived in the upper storeys. “That’s where he lives,” + people would say. Or “There he goes,” as the broad, grey-bearded man + passed down the street. Was he such a big man, then? He could hardly be + called really rich, though he had a saw-mill and a machine-shop and a + flour-mill, and owned a country place some way out of the town. But there + was something of the chieftain, something of the prophet, about him. He + hated priests. He read deep philosophical works, forbade his family to go + to church, and had been visited by Bjornson himself. It was good to have + him on your side; to have him against you was fatal—you might just + as well clear out of the town altogether. He had a finger in everything + that went on; it was as if he owned the whole town. He had been known to + meet a youth he had never spoken to before in the street and accost him + with a peremptory “Understand me, young man; you will marry that girl.” + Yet for all this, Lorentz Uthoug was not altogether content. True, he was + head and shoulders above all the Ringeby folks, but what he really wanted + was to be the biggest man in a place a hundred times as large. + </p> + <p> + And now that he had found a son-in-law, he seemed as it were to be walking + quietly round this stranger from the great world, taking his measure, and + asking in his thoughts: “Who are you at bottom? What have you seen? What + have you read? Are you progressive or reactionary? Have you any proper + respect for what I have accomplished here, or are you going about laughing + in your sleeve and calling me a whale among the minnows?” + </p> + <p> + Every morning when Peer woke in his room at the hotel he rubbed his eyes. + On the table beside his bed stood a photograph of a young girl. What? Is + it really you, Peer, that have found someone to stand close to you at + last? Someone in the world who cares about you. When you have a cold, + there’ll be people to come round and be anxious about you, and ask how you + are getting on. And this to happen to you! + </p> + <p> + He dined at the Uthougs’ every day, and there were always flowers beside + his plate. Often there would be some little surprise—a silver spoon + or fork, or a napkin-ring with his initials on. It was like gathering the + first straws to make his new nest. And the pale woman with the spectacles + looked kindly at him, as if to say: “You are taking her from me, but I + forgive you.” + </p> + <p> + One day he was sitting in the hotel, reading, when Merle came in. + </p> + <p> + “Will you come for a walk?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Good idea. Where shall we go to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we haven’t been to see Aunt Marit at Bruseth yet. We really ought + to go, you know. I’ll take you there to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Peer found these ceremonial visits to his new relatives quite amusing; he + went round, as it were, collecting uncles and aunts. And to-day there was + a new one. Well, why not? + </p> + <p> + “But—my dear girl, have you been crying?” he asked suddenly, taking + her head in his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s nothing. Come—let’s go now.” And she thrust him gently + away as he tried to kiss her. But the next moment she dropped into a + chair, and sat looking thoughtfully at him through half-closed eyes, + nodding her head very slightly. She seemed to be asking herself: “Who is + this man? What is this I am taking on me? A fortnight ago he was an utter + stranger—” + </p> + <p> + She passed her hand across her brow. “It’s mother—you know,” she + said. + </p> + <p> + “Is anything special wrong to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “She’s so afraid you’re going to carry me off into the wide world at a + moment’s notice.” + </p> + <p> + “But I’ve told her we’re going to live here for the present.” + </p> + <p> + The girl drew up one side of her mouth in a smile, and her eyelids almost + closed. “And what about me, then? After living here all these years crazy + to get out into the world?” + </p> + <p> + “And I, who am crazy to stay at home!” said Peer with a laugh. “How + delicious it will be to have a house and a family at last—and peace + and quiet!” + </p> + <p> + “But what about me?” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll be there, too. I’ll let you live with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! how stupid you are to-day. If you only knew what it means, to throw + away the best years of one’s youth in a hole like this! And besides—I + could have done something worth while in music—” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, let’s go abroad, by all means,” said Peer, wrinkling up his + forehead as if to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nonsense! you know it’s quite impossible to go off and leave mother + now. But you certainly came at a very critical time. For anyway I was + longing and longing just then for someone to come and carry me off.” + </p> + <p> + “Aha! so I was only a sort of ticket for the tour.” He stepped over and + pinched her nose. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you’d better be careful. I haven’t really promised yet to have you, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t promised? When you practically asked me yourself.” + </p> + <p> + She clapped her hands together. “Why, what shameless impudence! After my + saying No, No, No, for days together. I won’t, I won’t, I won’t—I + said it ever so many times. And you said it didn’t matter—for YOU + WOULD. Yes, you took me most unfairly off my guard; but now look out for + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + The next moment she flung her arms round his neck. But when he tried to + kiss her, she pushed him away again. “No,” she said, “you mustn’t think I + did it for that!” + </p> + <p> + Soon they were walking arm-in-arm along the country road, on their way to + Aunt Marit at Bruseth. It was September, and all about the wooded hills + stood yellow, and the cornfields were golden and the rowan berries + blood-red. But there was still summer in the air. + </p> + <p> + “Ugh! how impossibly fast you walk,” exclaimed Merle, stopping out of + breath. + </p> + <p> + And when they came to a gate they sat down in the grass by the wayside. + Below them was the town, with its many roofs and chimneys standing out + against the shining lake, that lay framed in broad stretches of farm and + field. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know how it came about that mother is—as she is?” asked + Merle suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “No. I didn’t like to ask you about it.” + </p> + <p> + She drew a stalk of grass between her lips. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see—mother’s father was a clergyman. And when—when + father forbade her to go to church, she obeyed him. But she couldn’t sleep + after that. She felt—as if she had sold her soul.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did your father say to that?” + </p> + <p> + “Said it was hysteria. But, hysteria or not, mother couldn’t sleep. And at + last they had to take her away to a home.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor soul!” said Peer, taking the girl’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “And when she came back from there she was so changed, one would hardly + have known her. And father gave way a little—more than he ever used + to do—and said: ‘Well, well, I suppose you must go to church if you + wish, but you mustn’t mind if I don’t go with you.’ And so one Sunday she + took my hand and we went together, but as we reached the church door, and + heard the organ playing inside, she turned back. ‘No—it’s too late + now,’ she said. ‘It’s too late, Merle.’ And she has never been since.” + </p> + <p> + “And she has always been—strange—since then?” + </p> + <p> + Merle sighed. “The worst of it is she sees so many evil things compassing + her about. She says the only thing to do is to laugh them away. But she + can’t laugh herself. And so I have to. But when I go away from her—oh! + I can’t bear to think of it.” + </p> + <p> + She hid her face against his shoulder, and he began stroking her hair. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Peer”—she looked up with her one-sided smile—“who is + right—mother or father?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you been trying to puzzle that out?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But it’s so hopeless—so impossible to come to any sort of + certainty. What do you think? Tell me what you think, Peer.” + </p> + <p> + They sat there alone in the golden autumn day, her head pressed against + his shoulder. Why should he play the superior person and try to put her + off with vague phrases? + </p> + <p> + “Dear Merle, I know, of course, no more than you do. There was a time when + I saw God standing with a rod in one hand and a sugar-cake in the other—just + punishment and rewards to all eternity. Then I thrust Him from me, because + He seemed to me so unjust—and at last He vanished, melting into the + solar systems on high, and all the infinitesimal growths here on the earth + below. What was my life, what were my dreams, my joy or sorrow, to these? + Where was I making for? Ever and always there was something in me saying: + He IS! But where? Somewhere beyond and behind the things you know—it + is there He is. And so I determined to know more things, more and more and + more—and what wiser was I? A steam-hammer crushes my skull one day—and + what has become of my part in progress and culture and science? Am I as + much of an accident as a fly on an ant? Do I mean no more? Do I vanish and + leave as little trace? Answer me that, little Merle—what do YOU + think?” + </p> + <p> + The girl sat motionless, breathing softly, with closed eyes. Then she + began to smile—and her lips were full and red, and at last they + shaped themselves to a kiss. + </p> + <p> + Bruseth was a large farm lying high above the town, with its garden and + avenues and long verandahs round the white dwelling-house. And what a view + out over the lake and the country far around! The two stood for a moment + at the gate, looking back. + </p> + <p> + Merle’s aunt—her father’s sister—was a widow, rich and a + notable manager, but capricious to a degree, capable of being generous one + day and grasping the next. It was the sorrow of her life that she had no + children of her own, but she had not yet decided who was to be her heir. + </p> + <p> + She came sailing into the room where the two young people were waiting, + and Peer saw her coming towards them, a tall, full-bosomed woman with grey + hair and florid colour. Oho! here’s an aunt for you with a vengeance, he + thought. She pulled off a blue apron she was wearing and appeared dressed + in a black woollen gown, with a gold chain about her neck and long gold + earrings. + </p> + <p> + “So you thought you’d come over at last,” she said. “Actually remembered + my existence, after all, did you, Merle?” She turned towards Peer, and + stood examining him, with her hands on her hips. “So that’s what you look + like, is it, Peer? And you’re the man that was to catch Merle? Well, you + see I call you Peer at once, even though you HAVE come all the way from—Arabia, + is it? Sit down, sit down.” + </p> + <p> + Wine was brought in, and Aunt Marit of Bruseth lifted a congratulatory + glass toward the pair with the following words: + </p> + <p> + “You’ll fight, of course. But don’t overdo it, that’s all. And mark my + words, Peer Holm, if you aren’t good to her, I’ll come round one fine day + and warm your ears for you. Your healths, children!” + </p> + <p> + The two went homewards arm-in-arm, dancing down the hillsides, and singing + gaily as they went. But suddenly, when they were still some way from the + town, Merle stopped and pointed. “There,” she whispered—“there’s + mother!” + </p> + <p> + A solitary woman was walking slowly in the twilight over a wide field of + stubble, looking around her. It was as if she were lingering here to + search out the meaning of something—of many things. From time to + time she would glance up at the sky, or at the town below, or at people + passing on the road, and then she would nod her head. How infinitely far + off she seemed, how utterly a stranger to all the noisy doings of men! + What was she seeing now? What were her thoughts? + </p> + <p> + “Let us go on,” whispered Merle, drawing him with her. And the young girl + suddenly began to sing, loudly, as if in an overflow of spirits; and Peer + guessed that it was for her mother’s sake. Perhaps the lonely woman stood + there now in the twilight smiling after them. + </p> + <p> + One Sunday morning Merle drove up to the hotel in a light cart with a big + brown horse; Peer came out and climbed in, leaving the reins to her. They + were going out along the fjord to look at her father’s big estate which in + olden days had been the County Governors’ official residence. + </p> + <p> + It is the end of September. The sun is still warm, but the waters of the + lake are grey and all the fields are reaped. Here and there a strip of + yellowing potato-stalks lies waiting to be dug up. Up on the hillsides + horses tethered for grazing stand nodding their heads slowly, as if they + knew that it was Sunday. And a faint mist left by the damps of the night + floats about here and there over the broad landscape. + </p> + <p> + They passed through a wood, and came on the other side to an avenue of old + ash trees, that turned up from the road and ran uphill to a big house + where a flag was flying. The great white dwelling-house stood high, as if + to look out far over the world; the red farm-buildings enclosed the wide + courtyard on three sides, and below were gardens and broad lands, sloping + down towards the lake. Something like an estate! + </p> + <p> + “What’s the name of that place?” cried Peer, gazing at it. + </p> + <p> + “Loreng.” + </p> + <p> + “And who owns it?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t know,” answered the girl, cracking her whip. + </p> + <p> + Next moment the horse turned in to the avenue, and Peer caught + involuntarily at the reins. “Hei! Brownie—where are you going?” he + cried. + </p> + <p> + “Why not go up and have a look?” said Merle. + </p> + <p> + “But we were going out to look at your father’s place.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that is father’s place.” + </p> + <p> + Peer stared at her face and let go the reins. “What? What? You don’t mean + to say your father owns that place there?” + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later they were strolling through the great, low-ceiled + rooms. The whole house was empty now, the farm-bailiff living in the + servants’ quarters. Peer grew more and more enthusiastic. Here, in these + great rooms, there had been festive gatherings enough in the days of the + old Governors, where cavaliers in uniform or with elegant shirt-frills and + golden spurs had kissed the hands of ladies in sweeping silk robes. Old + mahogany, pot-pourri, convivial song, wit, grace—Peer saw it all in + his mind’s eye, and again and again he had to give vent to his feelings by + seizing Merle and embracing her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but look here, Merle—you know, this is a fairy-tale.” + </p> + <p> + They passed out into the old neglected garden with its grass-grown paths + and well-filled carp-ponds and tumble-down pavilions. Peer rushed about it + in all directions. Here, too, there had been fetes, with coloured lamps + festooned around, and couples whispering in the shade of every bush. + “Merle, did you say your father was going to sell all this to the State?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that’s what it will come to, I expect,” she answered. “The place + doesn’t pay, he says, when he can’t live here himself to look after it.” + </p> + <p> + “But what use can the State make of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a Home for Imbeciles, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord! I might have guessed it! An idiot asylum—to be sure.” He + tramped about, fairly jumping with excitement. “Merle, look here—will + you come and live here?” + </p> + <p> + She threw back her head and looked at him. “I ask you, Merle. Will you + come and live here?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want me to answer this moment, on the spot?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. For I want to buy it this moment, on the spot.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, aren’t you—” + </p> + <p> + “Look, Merle, just look at it all. That long balcony there, with the doric + columns—nothing shoddy about that—it’s the real thing. Empire. + I know something about it.” + </p> + <p> + “But it’ll cost a great deal, Peer.” There was some reluctance in her + voice. Was she thinking of her violin? Was she loth to take root too + firmly? + </p> + <p> + “A great deal?” he said. “What did your father give for it?” + </p> + <p> + “The place was sold by auction, and he got it cheap. Fifty thousand + crowns, I think it was.” + </p> + <p> + Peer strode off towards the house again. “We’ll buy it. It’s the very + place to make into a home. . . . Horses, cattle, sheep, goats, cottars—ah! + it’ll be grand.” + </p> + <p> + Merle followed him more slowly. “But, Peer, remember you’ve just taken + over father’s machine-shops in town.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” said Peer scornfully. “Do you think I can’t manage to run that + village smithy and live here too! Come along, Merle.” And he took her hand + and drew her into the house again. + </p> + <p> + It was useless to try to resist. He dragged her from room to room, + furnishing as he went along. “This room here is the dining-room—and + that’s the big reception-room; this will be the study—that’s a + boudoir for you. . . . Come now; to-morrow we’ll go into Christiania and + buy the furniture.” + </p> + <p> + Merle gasped for breath. He had got so far by this time that the + furnishing was complete and they were installed. They had a governess + already, and he was giving parties too. Here was the ballroom. He slipped + an arm round her waist and danced round the room with her, till she was + carried away by his enthusiasm, and stood flushed and beaming, while all + she had dreamed of finding some day out in the wide world seemed suddenly + to unfold around her here in these empty rooms. Was this really to be her + home? She stopped to take breath and to look around her. + </p> + <p> + Late that evening Peer sat at the hotel with a note-book, working the + thing out. He had bought Loreng; his father-in-law had been reasonable, + and had let him have the place, lands and woods and all, for the + ridiculous price he had paid himself. There was a mortgage of thirty + thousand crowns on the estate. Well, that might stand as it was, for the + bulk of Peer’s money was tied up in Ferdinand Holm’s company. + </p> + <p> + A few days after he carried Merle off to the capital, leaving the + carpenters and painters hard at work at Loreng. + </p> + <p> + One day he was sitting alone at the hotel in Christiania—Merle was + out shopping—when there was a very discreet knock at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” called Peer. And in walked a middle-sized man, of thirty or + more, dressed in a black frock-coat with a large-patterned vest, and his + dark hair carefully combed over a bald patch on the crown. He had a red, + cheery face; his eyes were of the brightest blue, and the whole man + breathed and shone with good humour. + </p> + <p> + “I am Uthoug junior,” said the new-comer, with a bow and a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—that’s capital.” + </p> + <p> + “Just come across from Manchester—beastly voyage. Thanks, thanks—I’ll + find a seat.” He sat down, and flung one striped trouser-leg over the + other. + </p> + <p> + Peer sent for some wine, and in half an hour the two were firm allies. + Uthoug junior’s life-story to date was quickly told. He had run away from + home because his father had refused to let him go on the stage—had + found on trial that in these days there weren’t enough theatres to go + round—then had set up in business for himself, and now had a general + agency for the sale of English tweeds. “Freedom, freedom,” was his idea; + “lots of elbow-room—room to turn about in—without with your + leave or by your leave to father or anyone! Your health!” + </p> + <p> + A week later the street outside Lorentz D. Uthoug’s house in Ringeby was + densely crowded with people, all gazing up at the long rows of lighted + windows. There was feasting to-night in the great man’s house. About + midnight a carriage drove up to the door. “That’s the bridegroom’s,” + whispered a bystander. “He got those horses from Denmark!” + </p> + <p> + The street door opened, and a white figure, thickly cloaked, appeared on + the steps. “The bride!” whispered the crowd. Then a slender man in a dark + overcoat and silk hat. “The bridegroom!” And as the pair passed out, + “Hip-hip-hip—” went the voice of the general agent for English + tweeds, and the hurrahs came with a will. + </p> + <p> + The carriage moved off, and Peer sat, with his arm round his bride, + driving his horses at a sharp trot out along the fjord. Out towards his + home, towards his palace, towards a new and untried future. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter V + </h2> + <p> + A little shaggy, grey-bearded old man stood chopping and sawing in the + wood-shed at Loreng. He had been there longer than anyone could remember. + One master left, another took his place—what was that to the little + man? Didn’t the one need firewood—and didn’t the other need firewood + just the same? In the evening he crept up to his den in the loft of the + servants’ wing; at meal-times he sat himself down in the last seat at the + kitchen-table, and it seemed to him that there was always food to be had. + Nowadays the master’s name was Holm—an engineer he was—and the + little man blinked at him with his eyes, and went on chopping in the shed. + If they came and told him he was not wanted and must go—why, thank + heaven, he was stone deaf, as everyone knew. Thud, thud, went his axe in + the shed; and the others about the place were so used to it that they + heeded it no more than the ticking of a clock upon the wall. + </p> + <p> + In the kitchen of the big house two girls stood by the window peeping out + into the garden and giggling. + </p> + <p> + “There he is again,” said Laura. “Sh! don’t laugh so loud. There! now he’s + stopping again!” + </p> + <p> + “He’s whistling to a bird,” said Oliana. “Or talking to himself perhaps. + Do you think he’s quite right in his head?” + </p> + <p> + “Sh! The mistress’ll hear.” + </p> + <p> + It was no less a person than the master of Loreng himself whose + proceedings struck them as so comic. + </p> + <p> + Peer it was, wandering about in the great neglected garden, with his hands + in the pockets of his knickerbockers and his cap on the back of his head, + stopping here and there, and moving on again as the fancy took him. + Sometimes he would hum a snatch of a song, and again fall to whistling; + here he would pick up a twig and look at it, or again it might be a bird, + or perhaps an old neglected apple-tree that seemed worth stopping to talk + to. The best of it was that these were his own lands and his own woods + that lay there in the rusty October sunshine. Was all that nothing? And + the hill over on the farther shore, standing on its head in the dark + lake-mirror, clothed in a whole world of colour—yellow leaves and + green leaves, and light red and dark red, and golden and blood-red + patches, with the dark green of the pines between. His eyes had all this + to rest on. Did he really live here? What abundant fruitfulness all around + him! What a sky, so wide, so golden that it seemed to ring again. The + potato-stalks lay uprooted, scattered on the fields; the corn was safely + housed. And here he stood. He seemed again to be drawing in nourishment + from all he saw, drinking it greedily. The empty places in his mind were + filled; the sight of the rich soft landscape worked on his being, giving + it something of its own abundant fruitfulness, its own wide repose. + </p> + <p> + And—what next? + </p> + <p> + “What next?” he mimicked in his thoughts, and started again tramping up + and down the garden paths. What next—what next? Could he not afford + now to take his time—to rest a little? Every man must have an end in + view—must strive to reach this goal or that. And what was his object + now? What was it he had so toiled for, from those hard years in the loft + above the stable even until now? What was it? Often it seemed as if + everything were going smoothly, going of itself; as if one day, surely, he + would find his part in a great, happy world-harmony. But had he not + already found it? What more would he have? Of course he had found it. + </p> + <p> + But is this all, then? What is there behind and beyond? Hush! have done + with questioning. Look at the beauty around you. Here is peace, peace and + rest. + </p> + <p> + He hurried up to the house, and in—it might help matters if he could + take his wife in his arms; perhaps get her to come out with him a while. + </p> + <p> + Merle was in the pantry, with a big apron on, ranging jars of preserves on + the shelves. + </p> + <p> + “Here, dearest little wife,” cried Peer, throwing his arms about her, + “what do you say to a little run?” + </p> + <p> + “Now? Do you suppose a housewife has nothing better to do than gad about? + Uf! my hair! you’ll make it come down.” + </p> + <p> + Peer took her arm and led her over to a window looking out on the lake. + “There, dearest! Isn’t it lovely here?” + </p> + <p> + “Peer, you’ve asked me that twenty times a day ever since we came.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and you never answer. And you’ve never once yet run and thrown your + arms round my neck and said how happy you were. And it’s never yet come to + pass that you’ve given me a single kiss of your own accord.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think not, when you steal such a lot.” And she pushed him aside, + and slipped under his arm, and ran out of the room. “I must go in and see + mother again to-day,” she said as she went. + </p> + <p> + “Huit! Of course!” He paced up and down the room, his step growing more + and more impatient. “In to mother—in to mother! Always and + everlastingly mother and mother and nothing else. Huit!” and he began to + whistle. + </p> + <p> + Merle put her head in at the door. “Peer—have you such a terrible + lot of spare time?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes and no. I’m busy enough looking about in every corner here for + something or another. But I can’t find it, and I don’t even know exactly + what it is. Oh well, yes—I have plenty of time to spare.” + </p> + <p> + “But what about the farm?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there’s the dairy-woman in the cow-house, and the groom in the + stables, and the bailiff to worry the tenants and workpeople. What am I to + do—poke around making improvements?” + </p> + <p> + “But what about the machine-shop?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t I go in twice a day—cycle over to see how things are going? + But with Rode for manager—that excellent and high-principled + engineer—” + </p> + <p> + “Surely you could help him in some way?” + </p> + <p> + “He’s got to go on running along the line of rails he’s used to—nothing + else for it, my darling. And four or five thousand crowns a year, net + profit—why, it’s magnificent!” + </p> + <p> + “But couldn’t you extend the business?” + </p> + <p> + He raised his eyebrows, and his mouth pursed itself up. + </p> + <p> + “Extend—did you say extend? Extend a—a doll’s house!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Peer, you shouldn’t laugh at it—a thing that father took so + much pains to set going!” + </p> + <p> + “And YOU shouldn’t go worrying me to get to work again in earnest, Merle. + You shouldn’t really. One of these days I might discover that there’s no + way to be happy in the world but to drag a plough and look straight ahead + and forget that there’s anything else in existence. It may come to that + one day—but give me a little breathing-space first, and you love me. + Well, good-bye for a while.” + </p> + <p> + Merle, busying herself again in her pantry, glanced out of the window and + saw him disappear into the stables. At first she had gone with him when he + wandered about like this, touching and feeling all his possessions. In the + cattle-stalls, it might be, stroking and patting, getting himself covered + with hairs, and chattering away in childish glee. “Look, Merle—this + cow is mine, child! Dagros her name is—and she’s mine. We have forty + of them—and they’re all mine. And that nag there—what a sight + he is! We have eight of them. They’re mine. Yours too, of course. But you + don’t care a bit about it. You haven’t even hugged any of them yet. But + when a man’s been as poor as I’ve been—and suddenly wakened up one + day and found he owned all this—No, wait a minute, Merle—come + and kiss old Brownie.” She knew the ritual now—he could go over it + all again and again, and each time with the same happy wonder. Was it + odious of her that she was beginning to find it a little comic? And how + did it come about that often, when she might be filled with the deepest + longing for him, and he burst in upon her boisterously, hungry for her + caresses, she would grow suddenly cold, and put him aside? What was the + matter? Why did she behave like this? + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it was because he was so much the stronger, so overwhelming in his + effect on her that she had to keep a tight hold on herself to avoid being + swept clean away and losing her identity. At one moment they might be + sitting in the lamplight, chatting easily together, and so near in heart + and mind; and the next it would be over—he would suddenly have + started up and be pacing up and down the room, delivering a sort of + lecture. Merle—isn’t it marvellous, the spiritual life of plants? + And then would come a torrent of talk about strange plant-growths in the + north and in the south, plants whose names she had never even heard—their + struggle for existence, their loves and longings, their heroism in + disease, the divine marvel of their death. Their inventions, their wisdom, + aye, their religious sense—is it not marvellous, Merle? From this it + was only a step to the earth’s strata, fossils, crystals—a fresh + lecture. And finally he would sum up the whole into one great harmony of + development, from the primary cell-life to the laws of gravitation that + rule the courses of the stars. Was it not marvellous? One common rhythm + beating through the universe—a symphony of worlds!—And then he + must have a kiss! + </p> + <p> + But she could only draw back and put him gently aside. It was as if he + came with all his stored-up knowledge—his lore of plants and + fossils, crystals and stars—and poured it all out in a caress. She + could almost have cried out for help. And after hurrying her through the + wonders of the universe in this fashion, he would suddenly catch her up in + his arms, and whirl her off in a passionate intoxication of the senses + till she woke at last like a castaway on an island, hardly knowing where + or what she was. She laughed, but she could have found it in her heart to + weep. Could this be love? In this strong man, whose life till now had been + all study and work, the stored-up feeling burst vehemently forth, now that + it had found an outlet. But why did it leave her so cold? + </p> + <p> + When Peer came in from the stables, humming a tune, he found her in the + sitting-room, dressed in a dark woollen dress with a red ribbon round her + throat. + </p> + <p> + He stopped short: “By Jove—how that suits you, Merle!” + </p> + <p> + She let her eyes linger on him for a moment, and then came up and threw + her arms round his neck. + </p> + <p> + “Did he have to go to the stables all alone today?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I’ve been having a chat with the young colt.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I unkind to you, Peer?” + </p> + <p> + “You?—you!” + </p> + <p> + “Not even if I ask you to drive me in to see mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that’s the very thing. The new horse I bought yesterday from Captain + Myhre should be here any minute—I’m just waiting for it.” + </p> + <p> + “A new horse—to ride?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Hang it—I must get some riding. I had to handle Arab horses + for years. But we’ll try this one in the gig first.” + </p> + <p> + Merle was still standing with her arms round his neck, and now she pressed + her warm rich lips to his, close and closer. It was at such moments that + she loved him—when he stood trembling with a joy unexpected, that + took him unawares. She too trembled, with a blissful thrill through soul + and body; for once and at last it was she who gave. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he breathed at last, pale with emotion. “I—I’d be glad to die + like that.” + </p> + <p> + A little later they stood on the balcony looking over the courtyard, when + a bearded farm-hand came up with a big light-maned chestnut horse prancing + in a halter. The beast stood still in the middle of the yard, flung up its + head, and neighed, and the horses in the stable neighed in answer. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a beauty!” exclaimed Merle, clapping her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Put him into the gig,” called Peer to the stable-boy who had come out to + take the horse. + </p> + <p> + The man touched his cap. “Horse has never been driven before, sir, I was + to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Everything must have a beginning,” said Peer. + </p> + <p> + Merle glanced at him. But they were both dressed to go out when the + chestnut came dancing up before the door with the gig. The white hoofs + pawed impatiently, the head was high in the air, and the eyes flashed fire—he + wasn’t used to having shafts pressing on his sides and wheels rumbling + just behind him. Peer lit a cigar. + </p> + <p> + “You’re not going to smoke?” Merle burst out. + </p> + <p> + “Just to show him I’m not excited,” said Peer. No sooner had they taken + their seats in the gig than the beast began to snort and rear, but the + long lash flicked out over its neck, and a minute later they were tearing + off in a cloud of dust towards the town. + </p> + <p> + Winter came—and a real winter it was. Peer moved about from one + window to another, calling all the time to Merle to come and look. He had + been away so long—the winter of Eastern Norway was all new to him. + Look—look! A world of white—a frozen white tranquillity—woods, + plains, lakes all in white, a fairy-tale in sunlight, a dreamland at night + under the great bright moon. There was a ringing of sleigh-bells out on + the lake, and up in the snow-powdered forest; the frost stood thick on the + horses’ manes and the men’s beards were hung with icicles. And in the + middle of the night loud reports of splitting ice would come from the lake—sounds + to make one sit up in bed with a start. + </p> + <p> + Driving’s worth while in weather like this—come, Merle. The new + stallion from Gudbrandsdal wants breaking in—we’ll take him. Hallo! + and away they go in their furs, swinging out over the frozen lake, + whirling on to the bare glassy ice, where they skid and come near + capsizing, and Merle screams—but they get on to snow, and hoofs and + runners grip again. None of your galloping—trot now, trot! And Peer + cracks his whip. The black, long-maned Gudbrandsdaler lifts his head and + trots out. And the evening comes, and under the wide and starry sky they + dash up again to Loreng—Loreng that lies there lighting them home + with its long rows of glowing windows. A glorious day, wife! + </p> + <p> + Or they would go out on ski over the hills to the woodmen’s huts in the + forest, and make a blazing fire in the big chimney and drink steaming + coffee. Then home again through one of those pale winter evenings with a + violet twilight over woods and fields and lake, over white snow and blue. + Far away on the brown hillside in the west stands a farmhouse, with all + its windows flaming with the reflection from a golden cloud. Here they + come rushing, the wind of their passing shaking the snow from the pines; + on, on, over deep-rutted woodcutters’ roads, over stumps and stones—falling, + bruising themselves, burying their faces deep in the snow, but dragging + themselves up again, smiling to each other and rushing on again. Then, + reaching home red and dripping, they lean the ski up against the wall, and + stamp the snow off their boots. + </p> + <p> + “Merle,” said Peer, picking the ice from his beard, “we must have a bottle + of Burgundy at dinner to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—and shall we ring up and ask someone to come over?” + </p> + <p> + “Someone—from outside? Can’t we two have a little jollification all + to ourselves?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, of course, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + A shower-bath—a change of underclothes—how delicious! And—an + idea! He’ll appear at dinner in evening dress, just for a surprise. But as + he entered the room he stopped short. For there stood Merle herself in + evening dress—a dress of dark red velvet, with his locket round her + neck and the big plaits of hair rolled into a generous knot low on her + neck. Flowers on the table—the wine set to warm—the finest + glass, the best silver—ptarmigan—how splendid! They lift their + glasses filled with the red wine and drink to each other. + </p> + <p> + The frozen winter landscape still lingered in their thoughts, but the sun + had warmed their souls; they laughed and jested, held each other’s hands + long, and sat smiling at each other in long silences. + </p> + <p> + “A glorious day to-day, Merle. And to-morrow we die.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say!—to-morrow!” + </p> + <p> + “Or fifty years hence. It comes to the same thing.” He pressed her hand + and his eyes half closed. + </p> + <p> + “But this evening we’re together—and what could we want more?” + </p> + <p> + Then he fell to talking of his Egyptian experiences. He had once spent a + month’s holiday in visiting ruined cities with Maspero, the great Maspero + himself, going with him to Luxor, to Karnak, with its great avenues of + sphinxes, to El Amarna and Shubra. They had looked on ancient cities of + temples and king’s mausoleums, where men thousands of years dead lay as if + lost in thought, with eyes wide open, ready at any moment to rise and call + out: Slave, is the bath ready? There in the middle of a cornfield rises an + obelisk. You ask what it is—it is all that is left of a royal city. + There, too, a hundred thousand years ago maybe, young couples have sat + together, drinking to each other in wine, revelling in all the delights of + love—and where are they now? Aye, where are they, can you tell me? + </p> + <p> + “When that journey was over, Merle, I began to think that it was not mere + slime of the Nile that fertilised the fields; it was the mouldered bodies + of the dead. I rode over dust that had been human fingers, lips that had + clung in kisses. Millions and millions of men and women have lived on + those river-banks, and what has become of them now? Geology. And I thought + of the millions of prayers wailed out there to the sun and stars, to stone + idols in the temples, to crocodiles and snakes and the river itself, the + sacred river. And the air, Merle—the air received them, and vibrated + for a second—and that was all. And even so our prayers go up, to + this very day. We press our warm lips to a cold stone, and think to leave + an impression. Skaal!” + </p> + <p> + But Merle did not touch her glass; she sat still, with her eyes on the + yellow lampshade. She had not yet given up all her dreams of going forth + and conquering the world with her music—and he sat there rolling out + eternity itself before her, while he and she herself, her parents, all, + all became as chaff blown before the wind and vanished. + </p> + <p> + “What, won’t you drink with me? Well, well—then I must pledge you by + myself. Skaal!” + </p> + <p> + And being well started on his travellers’ tales he went on with them, but + now in a more cheerful vein, so that she found it possible to smile. He + told of the great lake-swamps, with their legions of birds, ibis, + pelicans, swans, flamingos, herons, and storks—a world of long beaks + and curved breasts and stilt-like legs and shrieking and beating of wings. + Most wonderful of all it was to stand and watch and be left behind when + the birds of passage flew northward in their thousands in the spring. My + love to Norway, he would say, as they passed. And in the autumn to see + them return, grey goose, starling, wagtail, and all the rest. “How goes it + now at home?” he would think—and “Next time I’ll go with you,” he + would promise himself year after year. + </p> + <p> + “And here I am at last! Skaal!” + </p> + <p> + “Welcome home,” said Merle, lifting her glass with a smile. + </p> + <p> + He rang the bell. “What do you want?” her eyes asked. + </p> + <p> + “Champagne,” said Peer to the maid, who appeared and vanished again. + </p> + <p> + “Are you crazy, Peer?” + </p> + <p> + He leaned back, flushed and in happy mood, lit a cigarette and told of his + greatest triumph out there; it was after he had finished his work at the + cataracts, and had started again with a branch of the English firm in + Alexandria. One morning in walked the Chief and said: “Now, gentlemen, + here’s a chance for a man that has the stuff in him to win his spurs—who’s + ready?” And half a score of voices answered “I.” “Well, here’s the King of + Abyssinia suddenly finds he must be in the fashion and have a railway—couple + of hundred miles of it—what do you say to that?” “Splendid,” we + cried in chorus. “Well, but we’ve got to compete with Germans, and Swiss, + and Americans—and we’ve got to win.” “Of course”—a louder + chorus still. “Now, I’m going to take two men and give them a free hand. + They’ll go up there and survey and lay out lines, and work out the whole + project thoroughly, both from the technical and the financial side—and + a project that’s better and cheaper than the opposition ones. Eight + months’ work for a good man, but I must have it done in four. Take along + assistants and equipment—all you need—and a thousand pounds + premium to the man who puts it through so that we get the job.” + </p> + <p> + “Peer—were you sent?” Merle half rose from her seat in her + excitement. + </p> + <p> + “I—and one other.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was that?” + </p> + <p> + “His name was Ferdinand Holm.” + </p> + <p> + Merle smiled her one-sided smile, and looked at him through her long + lashes. She knew it had been the dream of his life to beat that + half-brother of his in fair fight. And now! + </p> + <p> + “And what came of it?” she asked, with a seeming careless glance at the + lamp. + </p> + <p> + Peer flung away his cigarette. “First an expedition up the Nile, then a + caravan journey, camels and mules and assistants and provisions and + instruments and tents and quinine—heaps of quinine. Have you any + idea, I wonder, what a job like that means? The line was to run through + forests and tunnels, over swamps and torrents and chasms, and everything + had to be planned and estimated at top speed—material, labour, time, + cost and all. It was all very well to provide for the proper spans and + girders for a viaduct, and estimate for thoroughly sound work in casting + and erecting—but even then it would be no good if the Germans could + come along and say their bridge looked handsomer than ours. It was a job + that would take a good man eight months, and I had to get it done in four. + There are just twelve hours in a day, it’s true—but then there are + twelve more hours in the night. Fever? Well, yes. And sunstroke—yes, + both men and beasts went down with that. Maps got washed out by the rain. + I lost my best assistant by snakebite. But such things didn’t count as + hindrances, they couldn’t be allowed to delay the work. If I lost a man, + it simply meant so much more work for me. After a couple of months a + blacksmith’s hammer started thumping in the back of my head, and when I + closed my eyes for a couple of hours at night, little fiery snakes went + wriggling about in my brain. Tired out? When I looked in the glass, my + eyes were just two red balls in my head. But when the four months were up, + I was back in the Chief’s office.” + </p> + <p> + “And—and Ferdinand Holm?” + </p> + <p> + “Had got in the day before.” + </p> + <p> + Merle shifted a little in her seat. “And so—he won?” + </p> + <p> + Peer lit another cigarette. “No,” he said—the cigarette seemed to + draw rather badly—“I won. And that’s how I came to be building + railways in Abyssinia.” + </p> + <p> + “Here’s the champagne,” said Merle. And as the wine foamed in the glasses, + she rose and drank to him. She said nothing, only looked at him with eyes + half veiled, and smiled. But a wave of fire went through him from head to + foot. + </p> + <p> + “I feel like playing to-night,” she said. + </p> + <p> + It was rarely that she played, though he had often begged her to. Since + they had been married she had seemed loth to touch her violin, feeling + perhaps some vague fear that it would disturb her peace and awaken old + longings. + </p> + <p> + Peer sat on the sofa, leaning forward with his head in his hands, + listening. And there she stood, at the music-stand, in her red dress, + flushed and warm, and shining in the yellow lamplight, playing. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly the thought of her mother came to her, and she went to the + telephone. “Mother—are you there, mother? Oh, we’ve had such a + glorious day.” And the girl ran on, as if trying to light up her mother’s + heart with some rays of the happiness her own happy day had brought her. + </p> + <p> + A little later Peer lay in bed, while Merle flitted about the room, + lingering over her toilet. + </p> + <p> + He watched her as she stood in her long white gown before the toilet-table + with the little green-shaded lamps, doing her hair for the night in a long + plait. Neither of them spoke. He could see her face in the glass, and saw + that her eyes were watching him, with a soft, mysterious glance—the + scent of her hair seemed to fill the place with youth. + </p> + <p> + She turned round towards him and smiled. And he lay still, beckoning her + towards him with shining eyes. All that had passed that evening—their + outing, and the homeward journey in the violet dusk, their little feast, + and his story, the wine—all had turned to love in their hearts, and + shone out now in their smile. + </p> + <p> + It may be that some touch of the cold breath of the eternities was still + in their minds, the remembrance of the millions on millions that die, the + flight of the aeons towards endless darkness; yet in spite of all, the + minutes now to come, their warm embrace, held a whole world of bliss, that + out-weighed all, and made Peer, as he lay there, long to send out a hymn + of praise into the universe, because it was so wonderful to live. + </p> + <p> + He began to understand why she lingered and took so long. It was a sign + that she wanted to surprise him, that her heart was kind. And her light + breathing seemed even now to fill the room with love. + </p> + <p> + Outside in the night the lake-ice, splitting into new crevices, sent up + loud reports; and the winter sky above the roof that sheltered them was + lit with all its stars. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VI + </h2> + <p> + For the next few years Peer managed his estate and his workshop, without + giving too much of his time to either. He had his bailiff and his + works-manager, and the work went on well enough in its accustomed grooves. + If anyone had asked him what he actually did himself all the time, he + would have found it hard to answer. He seemed to be going round gathering + up something not clearly defined. There was something wanting—something + missed that now had to be made good. It was not knowledge now, but life—life + in his native land, the life of youth, that he reached out to grasp. The + youth in him, that had never had free play in the years of early manhood, + lay still dammed up, and had to find an outlet. + </p> + <p> + There were festive gatherings at Loreng. Long rows of sleighs drove in the + winter evenings up from the town and back again. Tables were spread and + decked with glass and flowers, the rooms were brightly lit, and the wine + was good. And sometimes in the long moonlit nights respectable citizens + would be awakened by noisy mirth in the streets of the little town, and, + going to the window in their night-shirts, would see sleighs come + galloping down, with a jangle of bells, full of laughing, singing young + people, returning from some excursion far up in the hills, where there had + been feasting and dancing. Here a young lawyer—newly married and + something of a privileged buffoon—was sitting on the lap of somebody + else’s wife, playing a concertina, and singing at the top of his voice. + “Some of that Loreng man’s doings again,” people would say. “The place has + never been the same since he came here.” And they would get back to bed + again, shaking their heads and wondering what things were coming to. + </p> + <p> + Peer drove out, too, on occasion, to parties at the big country houses + round, where they would play cards all night and have champagne sent up to + their rooms next morning, the hosts being men who knew how to do things in + style. This was glorious. Not mathematics or religion any more—what + he needed now was to assimilate something of the country life of his + native land. He was not going to be a stranger in his own country. He + wanted to take firm root and be able to feel, like others, that he had a + spot in the world where he was at home. + </p> + <p> + Then came the sunny day in June when he stood by Merle’s bed, and she lay + there smiling faintly her one-sided smile, with a newborn girl on her arm. + </p> + <p> + “What are we to call her, Peer?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, we settled that long ago. After your mother, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course her name’s to be Louise,” said Merle, turning the tiny red face + towards her breast. + </p> + <p> + This came as a fresh surprise. She had been planning it for weeks perhaps, + and now it took him unawares like one of her spontaneous caresses, but + this time a caress to his inmost soul. + </p> + <p> + He made a faint attempt at a joke. “Oh well, I never have any say in my + own house. I suppose you must have it your own way.” He stroked her + forehead; and when she saw how deeply moved he was, she smiled up at him + with her most radiant smile. + </p> + <p> + On one of the first days of the hay-harvest, Peer lay out on a sunny + hillside with his head resting on a haycock, watching his people at work. + The mowing machine was buzzing down by the lake, the spreader at work on + the hill-slopes, the horses straining in front, the men sitting behind + driving. The whole landscape lay around him breathing summer and + fruitfulness. And he himself lay there sunk in his own restful quiet. + </p> + <p> + A woman in a light dress and a yellow straw hat came down the field road, + pushing a child’s cart before her. It was Merle, and Merle was looking + round her, and humming as she came. Since the birth of her child her mind + was at peace; it was clear that she was scarcely dreaming now of + conquering the world with her music—there was a tiny being in the + little cart that claimed all her dreams. Never before had her skin been so + dazzling, her smile so red; it was as if her youth now first blossomed out + in all its fullness; her eyes seemed opened wide in a dear surprise. + </p> + <p> + After a while Peer went down and drove the mowing machine himself. He felt + as if he must get to work somehow or other to provide for his wife and + child. + </p> + <p> + But suddenly he stopped, got down, and began to walk round the machine and + examine it closely. His face was all alert now, his eyes keen and + piercing. He stared at the mechanism of the blades, and stood awhile + thinking. + </p> + <p> + What was this? A happy idea was beginning to work in his mind. Vague only + as yet—there was still time to thrust it aside. Should he? + </p> + <p> + Warm mild days and luminous nights. Sometimes he could not sleep for + thinking how delicious it was to lie awake and see the sun come up. + </p> + <p> + On one such night he got up and dressed. A few minutes later there was a + trampling of hoofs in the stable-yard and the chestnut stallion appeared, + with Peer leading him. He swung himself into the saddle, and trotted off + down the road, a white figure in his drill suit and cork helmet. + </p> + <p> + Where was he going? Nowhere. It was a change, to be up at an unusual hour + and see the day break on a July morning. + </p> + <p> + He trotted along at an easy pace, rising lightly in the stirrups, and + enjoying the pleasant warmth the rider feels. All was quiet around him, + the homesteads still asleep. The sky was a pearly white, with here and + there a few golden clouds, reflected in the lake below. And the broad + meadows still spread their many-coloured flower-carpet abroad; there was a + scent in the air of leaf and meadow-grass and pine, he drew in deep + breaths of it and could have sung aloud. + </p> + <p> + He turned into the by-road up the hill, dismounting now and again to open + a gate; past farms and little cottages, ever higher and higher, till at + last he reached the topmost ridge, and halted in a clearing. The chestnut + threw up his head and sniffed the air; horse and rider were wet with the + dew-drip from the trees, that were now just flushing in the first glow of + the coming sun. Far below was the lake, reflecting sky and hills and + farmsteads, all asleep. And there in the east were the red flames—the + sun—the day. + </p> + <p> + The horse pawed impatiently at the ground, eager to go on, but Peer held + him back. He sat there gazing under the brim of his helmet at the sunrise, + and felt a wave of strange feeling passing through his mind. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to him impossible that he should ever reach a higher pitch of + sheer delight in life. He was still young and strong; all the organs of + his body worked together in happy harmony. No cares to weigh upon his + mind, no crushing responsibilities; the future lying calm and clear in the + light of day, free from dizzy dreams. His hunger after knowledge was + appeased; he felt that what he had learned and seen and gathered was + beginning to take living organic form in his mind. + </p> + <p> + But then—what then? + </p> + <p> + The great human type of which you dreamed—have you succeeded in + giving it life in yourself? + </p> + <p> + You know what is common knowledge about the progress of humanity; its + struggle towards higher forms, its gropings up by many ways toward the + infinite which it calls God. + </p> + <p> + You know something of the life of plants; the nest of a bird is a mystery + before which you could kneel in worship. A rock shows you the marks of a + glacier that scraped over it thousands of years ago, and looking on it you + have a glimpse of the gigantic workings of the solar system. And on autumn + evenings you look up at the stars, and the light and the death and the + dizzy abysses of space above you send a solemn thrill through your soul. + </p> + <p> + And this has become a part of yourself. The joy of life for you is to + grasp all you can compass of the universe, and let it permeate your + thought and sense on every side. + </p> + <p> + But what then? Is this enough? Is it enough to rest thus in yourself? + </p> + <p> + Have you as yet raised one stepping-stone upon which other men can climb + and say: Now we can see farther than before? + </p> + <p> + What is your inner being worth, unless it be mirrored in action? + </p> + <p> + If the world one day came to be peopled with none but supermen—what + profit in that, as long as they must die? + </p> + <p> + What is your faith? + </p> + <p> + Ah, this sense of exile, of religious homelessness! How many times have + you and Merle lain clasping each other’s hands, your thoughts wandering + together hand in hand, seeking over earth or among the stars for some + being to whom you might send up a prayer; no slavish begging cry for grace + and favour, but a jubilant thanksgiving for the gift of life. + </p> + <p> + But where was He? + </p> + <p> + He is not. And yet—He is. + </p> + <p> + But the ascetic on the cross is a God for the sick and aged. What of us + others? When shall the modern man, strong, scientifically schooled, find a + temple for the sacred music, the anthem of eternity in his soul? + </p> + <p> + The sun rose up from behind a distant hill-crest, scattering gold over the + million spires of the pine-forest. Peer bent forward, with red-gleaming + dewdrops on his hand and his white sleeve, and patted the neck of his + restless beast. + </p> + <p> + It was two o’clock. The fires of morning were lit in the clouds and in all + the waters over the earth. The dew in the meadows and the pearls on the + wings of butterflies began to glisten. + </p> + <p> + “Now then, Bijou!—now for home!” + </p> + <p> + And he dashed off down the grass-grown forest paths, the chestnut snorting + as he galloped. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VII + </h2> + <p> + “Hei, Merle; We’re going to have distinguished visitors—where in the + world have you got to!” Peer hurried through the rooms with an open + telegram in his hand, and at last came upon his wife in the nursery. “Oh, + is it here you are?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—but you shout so, I could hear you all through the house. Who + is it that’s coming?” + </p> + <p> + “Ferdinand Holm and Klaus Brock. Coming to the christening after all. + Great Caesar!—what do you say to that, Merle?” + </p> + <p> + Merle was pale, and her cheeks a little sunken. Two years more had passed, + and she had her second child now on her knee—a little boy with big + wondering eyes. + </p> + <p> + “How fine for you, Peer!” she said, and went on undressing the child. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but isn’t it splendid of them to set off and come all that way, just + because I asked them? By Jove, we must look sharp and get the place + smartened up a bit.” + </p> + <p> + And sure enough the whole place was soon turned upside-down—cartloads + of sand coming in for the garden walks and the courtyard, and painters + hard at work repainting the houses. And poor Merle knew very well that + there would be serious trouble if anything should be amiss with the + entertainment indoors. + </p> + <p> + At last came the hot August day when the flags were hoisted in honour of + the expected guests. Once more the hum of mowing machines and hay-rakes + came from the hill-slopes, and the air was so still that the columns of + smoke from the chimneys of the town rose straight into the air. Peer had + risen early, to have a last look round, inspecting everything critically, + from the summer dress Merle was to wear down to the horses in the stable, + groomed till their coats shone again. Merle understood. He had been a + fisher-boy beside the well-dressed son of the doctor, and something meaner + yet in relation to the distinguished Holm family. And there was still so + much of the boy in him that he wanted to show now at his very best. + </p> + <p> + A crowd of inquisitive idlers had gathered down on the steamboat landing + when the boat swung in and lay by the pier. The pair of bays in the Loreng + carriage stood tossing their heads and twitching and stamping as the flies + tormented them; but at last they got their passengers and were given their + heads, setting off with a wild bound or two that scattered those who had + pressed too near. But in the carriage they could see the two strangers and + the engineer, all three laughing and gesticulating, and talking all at + once. And in a few moments they vanished in a cloud of dust, whirling away + beside the calm waters of the fjord. + </p> + <p> + Some way behind them a cart followed, driven by one of the stable-boys + from Loreng, and loaded with big brass-bound leather trunks and a huge + chest, apparently of wood, but evidently containing something frightfully + heavy. + </p> + <p> + Merle had finished dressing, and stood looking at herself in the glass. + The light summer dress was pretty, she thought, and the red bows at neck + and waist sat to her satisfaction. Then came the roll of wheels outside, + and she went out to receive her guests. + </p> + <p> + “Here they are,” cried Peer, jumping down. “This is Ferdinand Pasha, + Governor-General of the new Kingdom of Sahara—and this is His + Highness the Khedive’s chief pipe-cleaner and body-eunuch.” + </p> + <p> + A tall, stooping man with white hair and a clean-shaven, dried-up face + advanced towards Merle. It was Ferdinand Holm. “How do you do, Madam?” he + said, giving her a dry, bony hand. + </p> + <p> + “Why, this is quite a baronial seat you have here,” he added, looking + round and settling his pince-nez. + </p> + <p> + His companion was a round, plump gentleman, with a little black goatee + beard and dark eyes that blinked continually. But his smile was full of + mirth, and the grip of his hand felt true. So this was Klaus Brock. + </p> + <p> + Peer led his two friends in through the rooms, showing them the view from + the various windows. Klaus broke into a laugh at last, and turned to + Merle: “He’s just the same as ever,” he said—“a little stouter, to + be sure—it’s clear you’ve been treating him well, madam.” And he + bowed and kissed her hand. + </p> + <p> + There was hock and seltzer ready for them—this was Merle’s idea, as + suitable for a hot day—and when the two visitors had each drunk off + a couple of glasses, with an: “Ah! delicious!”, Peer came behind her, + stroked her hand lightly and whispered, “Thanks, Merle—first-rate + idea of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” exclaimed Ferdinand Holm suddenly, “I must send off a + telegram. May I use the telephone a moment?” + </p> + <p> + “There he goes—can’t contain himself any longer!” burst out Klaus + Brock with a laugh. “He’s had the telegraph wires going hard all the way + across Europe—but you might let us get inside and sit down before + you begin again here.” + </p> + <p> + “Come along,” said Peer. “Here’s the telephone.” + </p> + <p> + When the two had left the room, Klaus turned to Merle with a smile. “Well, + well—so I’m really in the presence of Peer’s wife—his wife in + flesh and blood. And this is what she looks like! That fellow always had + all the luck.” And he took her hand again and kissed it. Merle drew it + away and blushed. + </p> + <p> + “You are not married, then, Mr. Brock?” + </p> + <p> + “I? Well, yes and no. I did marry a Greek girl once, but she ran away. + Just my luck.” And he blinked his eyes and sighed with an expression so + comically sad that Merle burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + “And your friend, Ferdinand Holm?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “He, dear lady—he—why, saving your presence, I have an idea + there’s a select little harem attached to that palace of his.” + </p> + <p> + Merle turned towards the window and shook her head with a smile. + </p> + <p> + An hour later the visitors came down from their rooms after a wash and a + change of clothes, and after a light luncheon Peer carried them off to + show them round the place. He had added a number of new buildings, and had + broken new land. The farm had forty cows when he came, now he had over + sixty. “Of course, all this is a mere nothing for fellows like you, who + bring your harvest home in railway trains,” he said. “But, you see, I have + my home here.” And he waved his hand towards the house and the farmstead + round. + </p> + <p> + Later they drove over in the light trap to look at the workshop, and here + he made no excuses for its being small. He showed off the little foundry + as if it had been a world-famous seat of industry, and maintained his + serious air while his companions glanced sideways at him, trying hard not + to smile. + </p> + <p> + The workmen touched their caps respectfully, and sent curious glances at + the strangers. + </p> + <p> + “Quite a treat to see things on the Norwegian scale again,” Ferdinand Holm + couldn’t resist saying at last. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, isn’t it charming!” cried Peer, putting on an air of ingenuous + delight. “This is just the size a foundry should be, if its owner is to + have a good time and possess his soul in peace.” + </p> + <p> + Ferdinand Holm and Brock exchanged glances. But next moment Peer led them + through into a side-room, with tools and machinery evidently having no + connection with the rest. + </p> + <p> + “Now look out,” said Klaus. “This is the holy of holies, you’ll see. He’s + hard at it working out some new devilry here, or I’m a Dutchman.” + </p> + <p> + Peer drew aside a couple of tarpaulins, and showed them a mowing machine + of the ordinary type, and beside it another, the model of a new type he + had himself devised. + </p> + <p> + “It’s not quite finished yet,” he said. “But I’ve solved the main problem. + The old single knife-blade principle was clumsy; dragged, you know. But + with two blades—a pair of shears, so to speak—it’ll work much + quicker.” And he gave them a little lecture, showing how much simpler his + mechanism was, and how much lighter the machine would be. + </p> + <p> + “And there you are,” said Klaus. “It’s Columbus’s egg over again.” + </p> + <p> + “The patent ought to be worth a million,” said Ferdinand Holm, slowly, + looking out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “Of course the main thing is, to make the work easier and cheaper for the + farmers,” said Peer, with a rather sly glance at Ferdinand. + </p> + <p> + Dinner that evening was a festive meal. When the liqueur brandy went + round, Klaus greeted it with enthusiasm. “Why, here’s an old friend, as I + live! Real Lysholmer!—well, well; and so you’re still in the land of + the living? You remember the days when we were boys together?” He lifted + the little glass and watched the light play in the pale spirit. And the + three old friends drank together, singing “The first full glass,” and then + “The second little nip,” with the proper ceremonial observances, just as + they had done in the old days, at their student wine-parties. + </p> + <p> + The talk went merrily, one good story calling up another. But Merle could + not help noticing the steely gleam of Ferdinand Holm’s eyes, even when he + laughed. + </p> + <p> + The talk fell on new doings in Egypt, and as Peer heard more and more of + these, it seemed to her that his look changed. His glance, too, seemed to + have that glint of steel, there was something strange and absent in his + face; was he feeling, perhaps, that wife and children were but a drag on a + man, after all? He seemed like an old war-horse waking suddenly at the + sound of trumpets. + </p> + <p> + “There’s a nice little job waiting for you, by the way,” said Ferdinand + Holm, lifting his glass to Peer. + </p> + <p> + “Very kind of you, I’m sure. A sub-directorship under you?” + </p> + <p> + “You’re no good under any one. You belong on top.” Ferdinand illustrated + his words with a downward and an upward pointing of the finger. “The + harnessing of the Tigris and Euphrates will have to be taken in hand. It’s + only a question of time.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks very much!” said Peer, his eyes wide open now. + </p> + <p> + “The plan’s simply lying waiting for the right man. It will be carried + out, it may be next year, it may be in ten years—whenever the man + comes along. I would think about it, if I were you.” + </p> + <p> + All looked at Peer; Merle fastened her eyes on him, too. But he laughed. + “Now, what on earth would be the satisfaction to me of binding in bands + those two ancient and honourable rivers?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, in the first place, it would mean an increase of many millions of + bushels in the corn production of the world. Wouldn’t you have any + satisfaction in that?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Peer, with a touch of scorn. + </p> + <p> + “Or regular lines of communication over hundreds of thousands of square + miles of the most fertile country on the globe?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t interest me,” said Peer. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” Ferdinand Holm lifted his glass to Merle. “Tell me, dear lady, how + does it feel to be married to an anachronism?” + </p> + <p> + “To—to what?” stammered Merle. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your husband’s an anachronism. He might, if he chose, be one of the + kings, the prophets, who lead the van in the fight for civilisation. But + he will not; he despises his own powers, and one day he will start a + revolution against himself. Mark my words. Your health, dear lady!” + </p> + <p> + Merle laughed, and lifted her glass, but hesitatingly, and with a + side-glance towards Peer. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your husband is no better now than an egoist, a collector of happy + days.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and is that so very wicked?” + </p> + <p> + “He sits ravelling out his life into a multitude of golden threads,” went + on Ferdinand with a bow, his steely eyes trying to look gentle. + </p> + <p> + “But what is wrong in that?” said the young wife stoutly. + </p> + <p> + “It is wrong. It is wasting his immortal soul. A man has no right to ravel + out his life, even though the threads are of gold. A man’s days of + personal happiness are forgotten—his work endures. And your husband + in particular—why the deuce should HE be so happy? The + world-evolution uses us inexorably, either for light or for fuel. And Peer—your + husband, dear lady—is too good for fuel.” + </p> + <p> + Merle glanced again at her husband. Peer laughed, but then suddenly + compressed his lips and looked down at his plate. + </p> + <p> + Then the nurse came in with little Louise, to say good-night, and the + child was handed round from one to the other. But when the little + fair-haired girl came to Ferdinand Holm, he seemed loth to touch her, and + Merle read his glance at Peer as meaning: “Here is another of the bonds + you’ve tied yourself up with.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” he said suddenly, looking at his watch, “I’m afraid I must + ask for the use of the telephone again. Pardon me, Fru Holm.” And he rose + and left the room. Klaus looked at the others and shook his head. “That + man would simply expire if he couldn’t send a telegram once an hour,” he + said with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + Coffee was served out on the balcony, and the men sat and smoked. It was a + dusky twilight of early autumn; the hills were dark blue now and distant; + there was a scent of hay and garden flowers. After a while Merle rose and + said good-night. And in her thoughts, when she found herself alone in her + bedroom, she hardly knew whether to be displeased or not. These strange + men were drawing Peer far away from all that had been his chief delight + since she had known him. But it was interesting to see how different his + manner was towards the two friends. Klaus Brock he could jest and laugh + with, but with Ferdinand Holm he seemed always on his guard, ready to + assert himself, and whenever he contradicted him it was always with a + certain deference. + </p> + <p> + The great yellow disc of the moon came up over the hills in the east, + drawing a broad pillar of gold across the dark water. And the three + comrades on the balcony sat watching it for a while in silence. + </p> + <p> + “So you’re really going to go on idling here?” asked Ferdinand at last, + sipping his liqueur. + </p> + <p> + “Is it me you mean?” asked Peer, bending slightly forward. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I gather you’re going round here simply being happy from morning to + night. I call that idling.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, you’re very unhappy in reality. Everyone is, as long as he’s + neglecting his powers and aptitudes.” + </p> + <p> + “Very many thanks,” said Peer, with a laugh. Klaus sat up in his chair, a + little anxious as to what was coming. + </p> + <p> + Ferdinand was still looking out over the lake. “You seem to despise your + own trade—as engineer?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Peer. + </p> + <p> + “And why?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I feel the lack of some touch of beauty in our ceaseless craving to + create something new, something new, always something new. More gold, more + speed, more food—are these things not all we are driving at?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, gold means freedom. And food means life. And speed + carries us over the dead moments. Double the possibilities of life for + men, and you double their numbers.” + </p> + <p> + “And what good will it do to double their numbers? Two thousand million + machine-made souls—is that what you want?” + </p> + <p> + “But hang it all, man,” put in Klaus Brock eagerly, “think of our dear + Norway at least. Surely you don’t think it would be a misfortune if our + population increased so far that the world could recognise our existence.” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said Peer, looking away over the lake. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you’re a fanatic for the small in size and in numbers.” + </p> + <p> + “I am loth to see all Norway polluted with factories and proletariat + armies. Why the devil can’t we be left in peace?” + </p> + <p> + “The steel will not have it,” said Ferdinand Holm, as if speaking to the + pillar of moonlight on the water. + </p> + <p> + “What? Who did you say?” Peer looked at him with wide eyes. + </p> + <p> + Ferdinand went on undisturbed: “The steel will not have peace. And the + fire will not. And Prometheus will not. The human spirit has still too + many steps to climb before it reaches the top. Peace? No, my friend—there + are powers outside you and me that determine these things.” + </p> + <p> + Peer smiled, and lit a new cigar. Ferdinand Holm leaned back in his chair + and went on, addressing himself apparently to the moon. “Tigris and + Euphrates—Indus and Ganges—and all the rest of this planet—regulate + and cultivate the whole, and what is it after all? It’s only a question of + a few years. It is only a humble beginning. In a couple of centuries or so + there will be nothing left to occupy us any more on this little globe of + ours. And then we’ll have to set about colonising other worlds.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence for a moment. Then Peer spoke. + </p> + <p> + “And what do we gain by it all?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Gain? Do you imagine there will ever be any ‘thus far and no farther’ for + the spirit of man? Half a million years hence, all the solar systems we + know of now will be regulated and ordered by the human spirit. There will + be difficulties, of course. Interplanetary wars will arise, planetary + patriotism, groups of planetary powers in alliances and coalitions against + other groups. Little worlds will be subjugated by the bigger ones, and so + on. Is there anything in all this to grow dizzy over? Great heavens—can + anyone doubt that man must go on conquering and to conquer for millions of + years to come? The world-will goes its way. We cannot resist. Nobody asks + whether we are happy. The will that works towards the infinite asks only + whom it can use for its ends, and who is useless. Viola tout.” + </p> + <p> + “And when I die,” asked Peer—“what then?” + </p> + <p> + “You! Are you still going about feeling your own pulse and wanting to live + for ever? My dear fellow, YOU don’t exist. There is just one person on our + side—the world-will. And that includes us all. That’s what I mean by + ‘we.’ And we are working towards the day when we can make God respect us + in good earnest. The spirit of man will hold a Day of Judgment, and settle + accounts with Olympus—with the riddle, the almighty power beyond. It + will be a great reckoning. And mark my words—that is the one single + religious idea that lives and works in each and every one of us—the + thing that makes us hold up our heads and walk upright, forgetting that we + are slaves and things that die.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he looked at his watch. “Excuse me a moment. If the telegraph + office is open . . .” and he rose and went in. + </p> + <p> + When he returned, Klaus and Peer were talking of the home of their boyhood + and their early days together. + </p> + <p> + “Remember that time we went shark-fishing?” asked Klaus. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes—that shark. Let me see—you were a hero, weren’t you, + and beat it to death with your bare fists—wasn’t that it?” And then + “Cut the line, cut the line, and row for your lives,” he mimicked, and + burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, shut up now and don’t be so witty,” said Klaus. “But tell me, have + you ever been back there since you came home?” + </p> + <p> + Peer told him that he had been to the village last year. His old + foster-parents were dead, and Peter Ronningen too; but Martin Bruvold was + there still, living in a tiny cottage with eight children. + </p> + <p> + “Poor devil!” said Klaus. + </p> + <p> + Ferdinand Holm had sat down again, and now he nodded towards the moon. “An + old chum of yours? Well, why don’t we send him a thousand crowns?” + </p> + <p> + There was a little pause. “I hope you’ll let me join you,” went on + Ferdinand, taking a note for five hundred crowns from his waistcoat + pocket. “You don’t mind, do you?” + </p> + <p> + Peer glanced at him and took the note. “I’m delighted for poor old + Martin’s sake,” he said, putting the note in his waistcoat pocket. + “That’ll make fifteen hundred for him.” + </p> + <p> + Klaus Brock looked from one to the other and smiled a little. The talk + turned on other things for a while, and then he asked: + </p> + <p> + “By the way, Peer, have you seen that advertisement of the British Carbide + Company’s?” + </p> + <p> + “No, what about?” + </p> + <p> + “They want tenders for the damming and harnessing of the Besna River, with + its lake system and falls. That should be something in your line.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Ferdinand sharply. “I told you before—that job’s too + small for him. Peer’s going to the Euphrates.” + </p> + <p> + “What would it amount to, roughly?” said Peer, addressing no one in + particular. + </p> + <p> + “As far as I could make out, it should be a matter of a couple of million + crowns or thereabout,” said Klaus. + </p> + <p> + “That’s not a thing for Peer,” said Ferdinand, rising and lifting his hand + to hide a yawn. “Leave trifles like that to the trifling souls. + Good-night, gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + A couple of hours later, when all was silent throughout the house, Peer + was still up, wandering to and fro in soft felt slippers in the great + hall. Now and again he would stop, and look out of the window. Why could + he not sleep? The moon was paling, the day beginning to dawn. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VIII + </h2> + <p> + The next morning Merle was alone in the pantry when she heard steps behind + her, and turned her head. It was Klaus Brock. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, madam—ah! so this is what you look like in morning + dress. Why, morning neglige might have been invented for you, if I may say + so. You might be a Ghirlandajo. Or no, better still, Aspasia herself.” + </p> + <p> + “You are up early,” said Merle drily. + </p> + <p> + “Am I? What about Ferdinand Holm then? He has been up since sunrise, + sitting over his letters and accounts. Anything I can help you with? May I + move that cheese for you?—Well, well! you are strong. But there, I’m + always de trop where women are concerned.” + </p> + <p> + “Always de trop?” repeated Merle, watching him through her long lashes. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—my first and only love—do you know who she was?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed. How should I?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it was Louise—Peer’s little sister. I wish you could have + known her.” + </p> + <p> + “And since then?” Merle let her eyes rest on this flourishing gentleman, + who looked as if he could never have had a trouble in the world. + </p> + <p> + “Since then, dear lady?—since then? Let me see. Why, at this moment + I really can’t remember ever having met any other woman except . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Except . . . ?” + </p> + <p> + “Except yourself, madam.” And he bowed. + </p> + <p> + “You are TOO kind!” + </p> + <p> + “And, that being so, don’t you think it’s your plain duty, as a hospitable + hostess, to grant me . . .” + </p> + <p> + “Grant you—what? A piece of cheese?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no, thanks. Something better. Something much better than that.” + </p> + <p> + “What, then?” + </p> + <p> + “A kiss. I might as well have it now.” As he took a step nearer, she + looked laughingly round for a way of escape, but he was between her and + the door. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Merle, “but you must do something to make yourself useful + first. Suppose you ran up that step-ladder for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Delighted. Why, this is great fun!” The slight wooden ladder creaked + under the weight of his solid form as he climbed. “How high am I to go?” + </p> + <p> + “To reach the top shelf—that’s it. Now, you see that big brown jar? + Careful—it’s cranberries.” + </p> + <p> + “Splendid—I do believe we’re to have cranberry preserve at dinner.” + By standing on tiptoe he managed to reach and lift the heavy jar, and + stood holding it, his face flushed with his exertions. + </p> + <p> + “And now, little lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Just stay there a moment and hold it carefully; I have to fetch + something.” And she hurried out. + </p> + <p> + Klaus stood at the top of the ladder, holding the heavy jar. He looked + round. What was he to do with it? He waited for Merle to return—but + she did not appear. Someone was playing the piano in the next room. Should + he call for help? He waited on, getting redder and redder in the face. And + still no Merle came. + </p> + <p> + With another mighty effort he set the jar back in its place, and then + climbed down the ladder and walked into the drawing-room, very red and out + of breath. In the doorway he stopped short and stared. + </p> + <p> + “What—well, I’ll—And she’s sitting here playing the piano!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Aren’t you fond of music, Herr Brock?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll pay you out for this,” he said, shaking a finger at her. “Just you + wait and see, little lady, if I don’t pay you out, with interest!” And he + turned and went upstairs, chuckling as he went. + </p> + <p> + Peer was sitting at the writing-table in his study when Klaus came in. + “I’m just sealing up the letter with the money for Martin Bruvold,” he + said, setting the taper to a stick of sealing wax. “I’ve signed it: ‘From + the shark fishers.’” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it was a capital idea of Ferdinand’s. What d’you think the poor old + fellow’ll say when he opens it and the big notes tumble out?” + </p> + <p> + “I’d like to see his face,” said Peer, as he wrote the address on the + envelope. + </p> + <p> + Klaus dropped into a leather armchair and leaned back comfortably. “I’ve + been downstairs flirting a little with your wife,” he said. “Your wife’s a + wonder, Peer.” + </p> + <p> + Peer looked at him, and thought of the old days when the heavy-built, + clumsy doctor’s son had run about after the servant-girls in the town. He + had still something of his old lurching walk, but intercourse with the + ladies of many lands had polished him and given lightness and ease to his + manner. + </p> + <p> + “What was I going to say?” Klaus went on. “Oh yes—our friend + Ferdinand’s a fine fellow, isn’t he?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “I felt yesterday exactly as I used to feel when we three were together in + the old days. When I listen to his talk I can’t help agreeing with him—and + then you begin to speak, and what you say, too, seems to be just what I’ve + been thinking in my inmost soul. Do you think I’ve become shallow, Peer?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, your steam ploughs look after themselves, I suppose, and the ladies + of your harem don’t trouble you overmuch. Do you read at all?” + </p> + <p> + “Best not say too much about that,” said Klaus with a sigh, and it + suddenly struck Peer that his friend’s face had grown older and more worn. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Klaus again. “Better not say much about that. But tell me, old + fellow—you mustn’t mind my asking—has Ferdinand ever spoken to + you as his brother . . . or . . .” + </p> + <p> + Peer flushed hotly. “No,” he said after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “No?” + </p> + <p> + “I owe more to him than to anybody in the world. But whether he regards me + as a kinsman or simply as an object for his kindness to wreak itself on is + a matter he’s always left quite vague.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s just like him. He’s a queer fellow. But there’s another thing. . . + .” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Peer, looking up. + </p> + <p> + “It’s—er—again it’s rather a delicate matter to touch on. I + know, of course, that you’re in the enviable position of having your + fortune invested in the best joint-stock company in the world—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and so are you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mine’s a trifle compared with yours. Have you still the whole of your + money in Ferdinand’s company?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I’ve been thinking of selling a few shares, by the way. As you may + suppose, I’ve been spending a good deal just lately—more than my + income.” + </p> + <p> + “You mustn’t sell just now, Peer. They’re—I daresay you’ve seen that + they’re down—below par, in fact.” + </p> + <p> + “What—below par! No, I had no idea of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, only for the time being, of course. Just a temporary drop. There’s + sure to be another run on them soon, and they’ll go up again. But the + Khedive has the controlling interest, you know, and he’s rather a ticklish + customer. Ferdinand is all for extension—wants to keep on buying up + new land—new desert, that is. Irrigation there’s just a question of + power—that’s how he looks at it. And of course the bigger the scale + of the work the cheaper the power will work out. But the Khedive’s holding + back. It may be just a temporary whim—may be all right again + to-morrow. But you never know. And if you think Ferdinand’s the man to + give in to a cranky Khedive, you’re much mistaken. His idea now is to + raise all the capital he can lay hands on, and buy him out! What do you + say to that? Buy the Khedive clean out of the company. It’s a large order. + And if I were you, old man, as soon as the shares go up again a bit, I’d + sell out some of my holding, and put the money into something at home + here. After all, there must be plenty of quite useful things to be had + here.” + </p> + <p> + Peer frowned, and sat for a while looking straight before him. “No,” he + said at last. “As things stand between Ferdinand Holm and me—well, + if either of us goes back on the other, it’s not going to be me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, in that case—I beg your pardon,” said Klaus, and he rose and + departed. + </p> + <p> + The christening was a great occasion, with a houseful of guests, and a + great deal of speechmaking. The host was the youngest and gayest of the + party. The birth of his son should be celebrated in true Ethiopian + fashion, he declared—with bonfires and boating parties. + </p> + <p> + The moon was hidden that evening behind thick dark clouds, but the boats + full of guests glided over the black water to the accompaniment of music + and laughter. The young madcap of a lawyer was there, again sitting on the + lap of someone else’s wife, and playing a concertina, till people in the + farms on shore opened their windows and put their heads out to listen. + </p> + <p> + Later on the bonfires blazed up all along the lake shore and shone like + great flaming suns in the water below. The guests lay on the grass in + little groups round picnic suppers, and here and there a couple wandered + by themselves, talking in whispers. + </p> + <p> + Merle and Peer stood together for a moment beside one of the bonfires. + Their faces and figures were lit by the red glow; they looked at each + other and exchanged a smile. He took her hand and led her outside the + circle of light from the fire, and pointed over to their home, with all + its windows glowing against the dark. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose this should be the last party we give, Merle.” + </p> + <p> + “Peer, what makes you say that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing—only I have a sort of feeling, as if something had just + ended and something new was to begin. I feel like it, somehow. But I + wanted to thank you, too, for all the happy times we’ve had.” + </p> + <p> + “But Peer—what—” She got no farther, for Peer had already left + her and joined a group of guests, where he was soon as gay as the rest. + </p> + <p> + Then came the day when the two visitors were to leave. Their birthday gift + to the young gentleman so lately christened Lorentz Uthoug stood in the + drawing-room; it was a bust in red granite, the height of a man, of the + Sun-god Re Hormachis, brought with them by the godfathers from Alexandria. + And now it sat in the drawing-room between palms in pots, pressing its + elbows against its sides and gazing with great dead eyes out into endless + space. + </p> + <p> + Peer stood on the quay waving farewell to his old comrades as the steamer + ploughed through the water, drawing after it a fan-shaped trail of little + waves. + </p> + <p> + And when he came home, he walked about the place, looking at farms and + woods, at Merle and the children, with eyes that seemed to her strange and + new. + </p> + <p> + Next night he stayed up once more alone, pacing to and fro in the great + hall, and looking out of the windows into the dark. + </p> + <p> + Was he ravelling out his life into golden threads that vanished and were + forgotten? + </p> + <p> + Was he content to be fuel instead of light? + </p> + <p> + What was he seeking? Happiness? And beyond it? As a boy he had called it + the anthem, the universal hymn. What was it now? God? But he would hardly + find Him in idleness. + </p> + <p> + You have drawn such nourishment as you could from joy in your home, from + your marriage, your fatherhood, nature, and the fellowmen around you here. + There are unused faculties in you that hunger for exercise; that long to + be set free to work, to strive, to act. + </p> + <p> + You should take up the barrage on the Besna, Peer. But could you get the + contract? If you once buckle-to in earnest, no one is likely to beat you—you’ll + get it, sure enough. But do you really want it? + </p> + <p> + Are you not working away at a mowing-machine as it is? Better own up that + you can’t get on without your old craft, after all—that you must for + ever be messing and meddling with steel and fire. You can’t help yourself. + </p> + <p> + All the things your eyes have been fixed on in these last years have been + only golden visions in a mist. The steel has its own will. The steel is + beginning to wake in you—singing—singing—bent on + pressing onward. You have no choice. + </p> + <p> + The world-will goes on its way. Go with it or be cast overboard as + useless. + </p> + <p> + And still Peer walked up and down, up and down. + </p> + <p> + Next morning he set off for the capital. Merle watched the carriage as it + drove away, and thought to herself: “He was right. Something new is + beginning.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter IX + </h2> + <p> + There came a card from Peer, with a brief message: “Off to inspect the + ground.” A fortnight later he came home, loaded with maps and plans. “Of + course I’m late for the fair, as usual,” he said. “But wait a bit.” + </p> + <p> + He locked himself into his room. At last Merle knew what it was like to + have him at work. She could hear him in the mornings, walking up and down + and whistling. Then silence—he would be standing over his table, + busy with notes and figures. Then steps again. Now he was singing—and + this was a novelty to himself. It was as if he carried in him a store of + happiness, a treasure laid by of love, and the beauty of nature, and happy + hours, and now it found its way out in song. Why should he not sing over + the plans for a great barrage? Mathematics are dry work enough, but at + times they can be as living visions, soaring up into the light. Peer sang + louder. Then silence again. Merle never knew now when he stopped work and + came to bed. She would fall asleep to the sound of his singing in his own + room, and when she woke he would already be tramping up and down again in + there; and to her his steps seemed like the imperious tread of a great + commander. He was alight with new visions, new themes, and his voice had a + lordly ring. Merle looked at him through half-closed eyes with a lingering + glance. Once more he was new to her: she had never seen him like this. + </p> + <p> + At last the work was finished, and he sent in his tender. And now he was + more restless than ever. For a week he waited for an answer, tramping in + and out of the place, going off for rides on Bijou, and coming back with + his horse dripping with sweat. An impatient man cannot possibly ride at + any pace but a gallop. The days passed; Peer was sleepless, and ate + nothing. More days passed. At last he came bursting into the nursery one + morning: “Trunk call, Merle; summons to a meeting of the Company + Directors. Quick’s the word. Come and help me pack—sharp.” And in no + time he was off again to the city. + </p> + <p> + Now it was Merle’s turn to walk up and down in suspense. It mattered + little to her in itself whether he got the work or not, but she was keenly + anxious that he should win. + </p> + <p> + A couple of days later a telegram came: “Hurrah, wife!” And Merle danced + round the room, waving the telegram above her head. + </p> + <p> + The next day he was back home again and tramping up and down the room. + “What do you think your father will say to it, Merle—ha!” + </p> + <p> + “Father? Say to what?” + </p> + <p> + “When I ask him to be my surety for a couple of hundred thousand crowns?” + </p> + <p> + “Is father to be in it, too?” Merle looked at him open-eyed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if he doesn’t want to, we’ll let him off. But at any rate I’ll ask + him first. Goodbye.” And Peer drove off into town. + </p> + <p> + In Lorentz Uthoug’s big house you had to pass through the hardware shop to + get to his office, which lay behind. Peer knocked at the door, with a + portfolio under his arm. Herr Uthoug had just lit the gas, and was on the + point of sitting down at his American roll-top desk, when Peer entered. + The grey-bearded head with the close thick hair turned towards him, + darkened by the shadow from the green shade of the burner. + </p> + <p> + “You, is it?” said he. “Sit down. You’ve been to Christiania, I hear. And + what are you busy with now?” + </p> + <p> + They sat down opposite each other. Peer explained, calmly and with + confidence. + </p> + <p> + “And what does the thing amount to?” asked Uthoug, his face coming out of + the shadow and looking at Peer in the full light. + </p> + <p> + “Two million four hundred thousand.” + </p> + <p> + The old man laid his hairy hands on the desk and rose to his feet, staring + at the other and breathing deeply. The sum half-stunned him. Beside it he + himself and his work seemed like dust in the balance. Where were all his + plans and achievements now, his greatness, his position, his authority in + the town? Compared with amounts like this, what were the paltry sums he + had been used to handle? + </p> + <p> + “I—I didn’t quite catch—” he stammered. “Did you say two + millions?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I daresay it seems a trifle to you,” said Peer. “Indeed, I’ve + handled contracts myself that ran to fifty million francs.” + </p> + <p> + “What? How much did you say?” Uthoug began to move restlessly about the + room. He clutched his hair, and gazed at Peer as if doubting whether he + was quite sober. + </p> + <p> + At the same time he felt it would never do to let himself be so easily + thrown off his balance. He tried to pull himself together. + </p> + <p> + “And what do you make out of it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “A couple of hundred thousand, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” A profit on this scale again rather startled the old man. No, he was + nothing; he never had been anything in this world! + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that you will make so much?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve calculated it all out.” + </p> + <p> + “But if—but how can you be sure of it? Suppose you’ve got your + figures wrong?” His head was thrust forward again into the full light. + </p> + <p> + “I’m in the habit of getting my figures right,” said Peer. + </p> + <p> + When he broached the question of security, the old man was in the act of + moving away from him across the room. But he stopped short, and looked + back over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “What? Security? You want me to stand security for two million crowns?” + </p> + <p> + “No; the Company asks for a guarantee for four hundred thousand.” + </p> + <p> + After a pause the old man said: “I see. Yes, I see. But—but I’m not + worth as much as that altogether.” + </p> + <p> + “I can put in three hundred thousand of the four myself, in shares. And + then, of course, I have the Loreng property, and the works. But put it at + a round figure—will you guarantee a hundred thousand?” + </p> + <p> + There was another pause, and then the reply came from the far end of the + room to which Uthoug had drifted: “Even that’s a big sum.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course if you would rather not, I could make other arrangements. My + two friends, who have just been here—” He rose and began to gather + up his papers. + </p> + <p> + “No, no; you mustn’t be in such a hurry. Why, you come down on a man like + an avalanche. You must give me time to think it over—till to-morrow + at least. And the papers—at any rate, I must have a look at them.” + </p> + <p> + Uthoug passed a restless and troubled night. The solid ground seemed to + have failed him; his mind could find no firm foothold. His son-in-law must + be a great man—he should be the last to doubt it. But a hundred + thousand—to be ventured, not in landed property, or a big trade + deal, but on the success of a piece of construction work. This was + something new. It seemed fantastic—suited to the great world outside + perhaps, or the future. Had he courage enough to stand in? Who could tell + what accidents, what disasters might not happen? No! He shook his head. He + could not. He dared not. But—the thing tempted him. He had always + wanted to be something more than a whale among the minnows. Should he risk + it? Should he not? It meant staking his whole fortune, his position, + everything, upon the outcome of a piece of engineering that he understood + nothing whatever about. It was sheer speculation; it was gambling. No, he + must say: No. Then he was only a whale among the minnows, after all. No, + he must say: Yes. Good God! He clenched his hands together; they were + clammy with sweat, and his brain was in a whirl. It was a trial, a + temptation. He felt an impulse to pray. But what good could that do—since + he had himself abolished God. + </p> + <p> + Next day Merle and Peer were rung up by telephone and asked to come in to + dinner with the old folks. + </p> + <p> + But when they were all sitting at table, they found it impossible to keep + the conversation going. Everyone seemed shy of beginning on the subject + they were all thinking about. The old man’s face was grey with want of + sleep; his wife looked from one to the other through her spectacles. Peer + was calm and smiling. + </p> + <p> + At last, when the claret came round, Fru Uthoug lifted her glass and drank + to Peer. “Good fortune!” she said. “We won’t be the ones to stand in your + way. Since you think it is all right, of course it is. And we all hope it + will turn out well for you, Peer.” + </p> + <p> + Merle looked at her parents; she had sat through the meal anxious and + troubled, and now the tears rose into her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks,” said Peer, lifting his glass and drinking to his host and + hostess. “Thanks,” he repeated, bowing to old Uthoug. The matter was + arranged. Evidently the two old folks had talked it over together and come + to an agreement. + </p> + <p> + It was settled, but all four felt as if the solid ground were rocking a + little under their feet. All their future, their fate, seemed staked upon + a throw. + </p> + <p> + A couple of days later, a day of mild October sunshine, Peer happened to + go into the town, and, catching sight of his mother-in-law at the window, + he went off and bought some flowers, and took them up to her. + </p> + <p> + She was sitting looking out at the yellow sky in the west, and she hardly + turned her head as she took the flowers. “Thanks, Peer,” she said, and + continued gazing out at the sky. + </p> + <p> + “What are you thinking of, dear mother?” asked Peer. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! it isn’t a good thing always to tell our thoughts,” she said, and she + turned her spectacled eyes so as to look out over the lake. + </p> + <p> + “I hope it was something pleasant?” + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking of you, Peer. Of you and Merle.” + </p> + <p> + “It is good of you to think of us.” + </p> + <p> + “You see, Peer, there is trouble coming for you. A great deal of trouble.” + She nodded her head towards the yellow sky in the west. + </p> + <p> + “Trouble? Why? Why should trouble come to us?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you are happy, Peer.” + </p> + <p> + “What? Because I am—?” + </p> + <p> + “Because all things blossom and flourish about you. Be sure that there are + unseen powers enough that grudge you your happiness.” + </p> + <p> + Peer smiled. “You think so?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” she answered with a sigh, gazing out into the distance. “You + have made enemies of late amongst all those envious shadows that none can + see. But they are all around us. I see them every day; I have learned to + know them, in all these years. I have fought with them. And it is well for + Merle that she has learned to sing in a house so full of shadows. God + grant she may be able to sing them away from you too.” + </p> + <p> + When Peer left the house he felt as if little shudders of cold were + passing down his back. “Pooh!” he exclaimed as he reached the street. “She + is not right in her head.” And he hurried to his carriole and drove off + home. + </p> + <p> + “Old Rode will be pleased, anyhow,” he thought. “He’ll be his own master + in the workshop now—the dream of his life. Well, everyone for + himself. And the bailiff will have things all his own way at Loreng for a + year or two. Well, well! Come up, Brownie!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter X + </h2> + <p> + “Peer, you’re surely not going away just now? Oh, Peer, you mustn’t. You + won’t leave me alone, Peer!” + </p> + <p> + “Merle, dear, now do be sensible. No, no—do let go, dear.” He tried + to disengage her hands that were clasped behind his neck. + </p> + <p> + “Peer, you have never been like this before. Don’t you care for me any + more—or the children?” + </p> + <p> + “Merle, dearest, you don’t imagine that I like going. But you surely don’t + want me to have another big breach this year. It would be sheer ruin, I do + assure you. Come, come now; let me go.” + </p> + <p> + But she held him fast. “And what happens to those dams up there is more to + you now than what becomes of me!” + </p> + <p> + “You will be all right, dear. The doctor and the nurse have promised to be + on the spot the moment you send word. And you managed so well before. . . + . I simply cannot stay now, Merle. There’s too much at stake. There, + there, goodbye! Be sure you telegraph—” He kissed her over the eyes, + put her gently down into a chair, and hurried out of the room, feeling her + terrified glance follow him as he went. + </p> + <p> + The April sun had cleared away the snow from the lowlands, but when Peer + stepped out of the train up in Espedal he found himself back in winter—farms + and fields still covered, and ridges and peaks deep in white dazzling + snow. And soon he was sitting wrapped in his furs, driving a miserable dun + pony up a side-valley that led out on to the uplands. + </p> + <p> + The road was a narrow track through the snow, yellow with horse-dung, and + a mass of holes and ruts, worn by his own teams that had hauled their + heavy loads of cement this way all through that winter and the last, up to + the plateau and across the frozen lakes to Besna. + </p> + <p> + The steel will on. The steel cares nothing for human beings. Merle must + come through it alone. + </p> + <p> + When a healthy, happy man is hampered and thwarted in a great work by + annoyances and disasters, he behaves like an Arab horse on a heavy march. + At first it moves at a brisk trot, uphill and downhill, and it goes faster + and faster as its strength begins to flag. And when at last it is + thoroughly out of breath and ready to drop, it breaks into an easy gallop. + </p> + <p> + This was not the work he had once dreamed of finding. Now, as before, his + hunger for eternal things seemed ever at the side of his accomplishment, + asking continually: Whither? Why? and What then? + </p> + <p> + But by degrees the difficulties had multiplied and mounted, till at last + his whole mind was taken up by the one thought—to put it through. + Good or bad in itself—he must make a success of it. He had + undertaken it, and he must see it through. He must not be beaten. + </p> + <p> + And so he fought on. It was merely a trial of strength; a fight with + material difficulties. Aye, but was that all it was? Were there not times + when he felt himself struggling with something greater, something worse? A + new motive force seemed to have come into his life—misfortune. A + power outside his own will had begun to play tricks with him. + </p> + <p> + Your calculations may be sound, correct in every detail, and yet things + may go altogether wrong. + </p> + <p> + Who could include in his calculations the chance that a perfectly sober + engineer will get drunk one day and give orders so crazy that it costs + tens of thousands to repair the damage? Who could foresee that against all + probability a big vein of water would be tapped in tunnelling, and would + burst out, flooding the workings and overwhelming the workmen—so + that the next day a train of unpainted deal coffins goes winding out over + the frozen lakes? + </p> + <p> + More than once there had been remarks and questions in the newspapers: + “Another disaster at the Besna Falls. Who is to blame?” + </p> + <p> + It was because he himself was away on a business journey and Falkman had + neglected to take elementary precautions that the big rock-fall occurred + in the tunnel, killing four men, and destroying the new Belgian + rock-drill, that had cost a good hundred thousand, before it had begun to + work. This sort of thing was not faulty calculation—it was malicious + fate. + </p> + <p> + “Come up, boy! We must get there to-night. The flood mustn’t have a chance + this year to lay the blame on me because I wasn’t on the spot.” + </p> + <p> + And then, to cap the other misfortunes, his chief contractor for material + had gone bankrupt, and now prices had risen far above the rates he had + allowed for—adding fresh thousands to the extra expenditure. + </p> + <p> + But he would put the thing through, even if he lost money by it. His + envious rivals who had lately begun to run down his projects in the + technical papers—he would make them look foolish yet. + </p> + <p> + And then? + </p> + <p> + Well, it may be that the Promethean spirit is preparing a settling day for + the universe somewhere out in infinity. But what concern is that of mine? + What about my own immortal soul? + </p> + <p> + Silence—push on, push on. There may be a snowstorm any minute. Come + up—get along, you scarecrow. + </p> + <p> + The dun struggles on to the end of a twelve-mile stage, and then the + valley ends and the full blast from the plateau meets them. Here lies the + posting station, the last farm in the valley. He swings into the yard and + is soon sitting in the room over a cup of coffee and a pipe. + </p> + <p> + Merle? How are things with Merle now? + </p> + <p> + Ah! here comes his own horse, the big black stallion from Gudbrandsdal. + This beast’s trot is a different thing from the poor dun’s—the + sleigh flies up to the door. And in a moment Peer is sitting in it again + in his furs. + </p> + <p> + Ah! what a relief to have a fresh horse, and one that makes light of the + load behind him. Away he goes at a brisk trot, with lifted head and bells + jingling, over the frozen lakes. Here and there on the hillslopes a grey + hut or two show out—saeters, which have lain there unchanged for + perhaps a couple of thousand years. But a new time is coming. The + saeter-horns will be heard no longer, and the song of the turbines will + rise in their place. + </p> + <p> + An icy wind is blowing; the horse throws up its head and snorts. Big + snowflakes come driving on the wind, and soon a regular snowstorm is + raging, lashing the traveller’s face till he gasps. First the horse’s mane + and tail grow white with snow, then its whole body. The drifts grow + bigger, the black has to make great bounds to clear them. Bravo, old boy! + we must get there before dark. There are brushwood brooms set out across + the ice to mark the way, but who could keep them in sight in a driving + smother like this? Peer’s own face is plastered white now, and he feels + stunned and dazed under the lash of the snow. + </p> + <p> + He has worked under the burning suns of Egypt—and now here. But the + steel will on. The wave rolls on its way over all the world. + </p> + <p> + If this snow should turn to rain now, it will mean a flood. And then the + men will have to turn out to-night and work to save the dams. + </p> + <p> + One more disaster, and he would hardly be able to finish within the + contract time. And that once exceeded, each day’s delay means a penalty of + a thousand crowns. + </p> + <p> + It is getting darker. + </p> + <p> + At last there is nothing to be seen on the way but a shapeless mass of + snow struggling with bowed head against the storm, wading deep in the + loose drifts, wading seemingly at haphazard—and trailing after it an + indefinable bundle of white—dead white. Behind, a human being drags + along, holding on for dear life to the rings on the sleigh. It is the + post-boy from the last stage. + </p> + <p> + At last they were groping their way in the darkness towards the shore, + where the electric lights of the station showed faintly through the + snow-fog. And hardly had Peer got out of the sleigh before the snow + stopped suddenly, and the dazzling electric suns shone over the place, + with the workmen’s barracks, the assistants’ quarters, the offices, and + his own little plank-built house. Two of the engineers came out to meet + him, and saluted respectfully. + </p> + <p> + “Well, how is everything getting on?” + </p> + <p> + The greybeard answered: “The men have struck work to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Struck? What for?” + </p> + <p> + “They want us to take back the machinist that was dismissed the other day + for drunkenness.” + </p> + <p> + Peer shook the snow from his fur coat, took his bag, and walked over to + the building, the others following. “Then we’ll have to take him back,” he + said. “We can’t afford a strike now.” + </p> + <p> + A couple of days later Peer was lying in bed, when the post-bag was + brought in. He shook the letters out over the coverlet, and caught sight + of one from Klaus Brook. + </p> + <p> + What was this? Why did his hand tremble as he took it up? Of course it was + only one of Klaus’s ordinary friendly letters. + </p> + <p> + DEAR FRIEND,—This is a hard letter to write. But I do hope you have + taken my advice and got some of your money at any rate over to Norway. + Well, to be as brief as possible! Ferdinand Holm has decamped, or is in + prison, or possibly worse—you know well enough it’s no good asking + questions in a country like this when a big man suddenly disappears. He + had made enemies in the highest places; he was playing a dangerous game—and + this is the end of it. + </p> + <p> + You know what it means when a business goes into liquidation out here, and + no strong man on the spot to look after things. We Europeans can whistle + for our share. + </p> + <p> + You’ll take it coolly, I know. I’ve lost every penny I had—but + you’ve still got your place over there and the workshops. And you’re the + sort of fellow to make twice as much next time, or I don’t know you. I + hope the Besna barrage is to be a success. + </p> + <p> + Yours ever, + </p> + <p> + KLAUS BROCK. + </p> + <p> + P.S.—Of course you’ll understand that now my friend has been thrown + overboard it will very likely be my turn next. But I can’t leave now—to + try would rouse suspicion at once. We foreigners have some difficult + balancing to do, to escape a fall. Well, if by chance you don’t hear from + me again, you’ll know something has happened! + </p> + <p> + Outside, the water was streaming down the channels into the fall. Peer lay + still for a while, only one knee moving up and down beneath the clothes. + He thought of his two friends. And he thought that he was now a poor man—and + that the greater part of the burden of the security would fall now on old + Lorentz D. Uthoug. + </p> + <p> + Clearly, Fate has other business on hand than making things easy for you, + Peer. You must fight your fight out single-handed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XI + </h2> + <p> + One evening in the late autumn Merle was sitting at home waiting for her + husband. He had been away for several weeks, so it was only natural that + she should make a little festivity of his return. The lamps were lit in + all the rooms, wood fires were crackling in all the stoves, the cook was + busy with his favourite dishes, and little Louise, now five years old, had + on her blue velvet frock. She was sitting on the floor, nursing two dolls, + and chattering to them. “Mind you’re a good girl now, Josephine. Your + grandpa will be here directly.” Merle looked in through the kitchen door: + “Have you brought up the claret, Bertha? That’s right. You’d better put it + near the stove to warm.” Then she went round all the rooms again. The two + youngest children were in bed—was there anything more to be done? + </p> + <p> + It would be an hour at least before he could be here, yet she could not + help listening all the time for the sound of wheels. But she had not + finished yet. She hurried up to the bathroom, turned on the hot water, + undressed, and put on an oilskin cap to keep her hair dry, and soon she + was splashing about with soap and sponge. Why not make herself as + attractive as she could, even if things did look dark for them just now? + </p> + <p> + A little stream of talk went on in her brain. Strange that one’s body + could be so great a pleasure to another. Here he kissed you—and here—and + here—and often he seemed beside himself with joy. And do you + remember—that time? You held back and were cold often—perhaps + too often—is it too late now? Ah! he has other things to think of + now. The time is gone by when you could be comfort enough to him in all + troubles. But is it quite gone by? Oh yes; last time he came home, he + hardly seemed to notice that we had a new little girl, that he had never + seen before. Well, no doubt it must be so. He did not complain, and he was + calm and quiet, but his mind was full of a whole world of serious things, + a world where there was no room for wife and children. Will it be the same + this evening again? Will he notice that you have dressed so carefully to + please him? Will it be a joy to him any more to feel his arms around you? + </p> + <p> + She stood in front of the big, white-framed mirror, and looked critically + at herself. No, she was no longer young as she had been. The red in her + cheeks had faded a little these last few years, and there were one or two + wrinkles that could not be hidden. But her eyebrows—he had loved to + kiss them once—they were surely much as before. And involuntarily + she bent towards the glass, and stroked the dark growth above her eyes as + if it were his hand caressing her. + </p> + <p> + She came down at last, dressed in a loose blue dress with a broad lace + collar and blond lace in the wide sleeves. And not to seem too much + dressed, she had put on a red-flowered apron to give herself a housewifely + look. + </p> + <p> + It was past seven now. Louise came whimpering to her, and Merle sank down + in a chair by the window, and took the child on her lap, and waited. + </p> + <p> + The sound of wheels in the night may mean the approach of fate itself. + Some decision, some final word that casts us down in a moment from wealth + to ruin—who knows? Peer had been to England now, trying to come to + some arrangement with the Company. Sh!—was that not wheels? She + rose, trembling, and listened. + </p> + <p> + No, it had passed on. + </p> + <p> + It was eight o’clock now, time for Louise to go to bed; and Merle began + undressing her. Soon the child was lying in her little white bed, with a + doll on either side. “Give Papa a tiss,” she babbled, “and give him my + love. And Mama, do you think he’ll let me come into his bed for a bit + tomorrow morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, I’m sure he will. And now lie down and go to sleep, there’s a + good girl.” + </p> + <p> + Merle sat down again in the room and waited. But at last she rose, put on + a cloak and went out. + </p> + <p> + The town lay down there in the autumn darkness under a milk-white mist of + light. And over the black hills all around rose a world of stars. + Somewhere out there was Peer, far out maybe upon some country road, the + horse plodding on through the dark at its own will, its master sitting + with bowed head, brooding. + </p> + <p> + “Help us, Thou above—and help him most, he has had so much adversity + in these last days.” + </p> + <p> + But the starry vault seems icy cold—it has heard the prayers of + millions and millions before—the hearts of men are nothing to the + universe. + </p> + <p> + Merle drooped her head and went in again to the house. + </p> + <p> + It was midnight when Peer drove up the hill towards his home. The sight of + the great house with its brilliantly lighted windows jarred so cruelly on + his wearied mind that he involuntarily gave the horse a cut with his whip. + </p> + <p> + He flung the reins to the stable-boy who had come out with a lantern, and + walked up the steps, moving almost with a feeling of awe in this great + house, as if it already belonged to someone else. + </p> + <p> + He opened the door of the drawing-room—no one there, but light, + light and comfort. He passed through into the next room, and there sat + Merle, alone, in an armchair, with her head resting on the arm, asleep. + </p> + <p> + Had she been waiting so long? + </p> + <p> + A wave of warmth passed through him; he stood still, looking at her; and + presently her bowed figure slowly straightened; her pale face relaxed into + a smile. Without waking her, he went on into the nursery, where the lights + were still burning. But here the lights shone only on three little ones, + lying in their clean night-clothes, asleep. + </p> + <p> + He went back to the dining-room; more lights, and a table laid for two, a + snowy cloth and flowers, and a single carnation stuck into his napkin—that + must be from Louise—little Louise. + </p> + <p> + At last Merle was awakened by the touch of his hand on her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, are you there?” + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, Merle!” They embraced, and he kissed her forehead. But she + could see that his mind was busy with other things. + </p> + <p> + They sat down to table, and began their meal. She could read the + expression of his face, his voice, his calm air—she knew they meant + bad news. + </p> + <p> + But she would not question him. She would only try to show him that all + things else could be endured, if only they two loved each other. + </p> + <p> + But the time had passed when an unexpected caress from her was enough to + send him wild with joy. She sat there now trembling inwardly with + suspense, wondering if he would notice her—if he could find any + comfort in having her with him, still young and with something of her + beauty left. + </p> + <p> + He looked over to her with a far-away smile. “Merle,” he asked, “what do + you think your father is worth altogether?” The words came like a quiet + order from a captain standing on the bridge, while his ship goes down. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Peer, don’t think about all that to-night. Welcome home!” And she + smiled and took his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks,” he said, and pressed her fingers; but his thoughts were still + far off. And he went on eating without knowing what he ate. + </p> + <p> + “And what do you think? Louise has begun the violin. You’ve no idea how + the little thing takes to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh?” + </p> + <p> + “And Asta’s got another tooth—she had a wretched time, poor thing, + while it was coming through.” + </p> + <p> + It was as if she were drawing the children up to him, to show him that at + least he still had them. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her for a moment. “Merle, you ought never to have married me. + It would have been better for you and for your people too.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nonsense, Peer—you know you’ll be able to make it all right + again.” + </p> + <p> + They went up to bed, and undressed slowly. “He hasn’t noticed me yet,” + thought Merle. + </p> + <p> + And she laughed a little, and said, “I was sitting thinking this evening + of the first day we met. I suppose you never think of it now?” + </p> + <p> + He turned round, half undressed, and looked at her. Her lively tone fell + strangely on his ears. “She does not ask how I have got on, or how things + are going,” he thought. But as he went on looking at her he began at last + to see through her smile to the anxious heart beneath. + </p> + <p> + Ah, yes; he remembered well that far-off summer when life had been a + holiday in the hills, and a girl making coffee over a fire had smiled at + him for the first time. And he remembered the first sun-red night of his + love on the shining lake-mirror, when his heart was filled with the rush + of a great anthem to heaven and earth. + </p> + <p> + She stood there still. He had her yet. But for the first time in their + lives she came to him now humbly, begging him to make the best of her as + she was. + </p> + <p> + An unspeakable warmth began to flow through his heavy heart. But he did + not rush to embrace her and whirl her off in a storm of passionate + delight. He stood still, staring before him, and, drawing himself up, + swore to himself with fast-closed lips that he would, he WOULD trample a + way through, and save things for them both, even yet. + </p> + <p> + The lights were put out, and soon they lay in their separate beds, + breathing heavily in the dark. Peer stretched himself out, with his face + up, thinking, with closed eyes. He was hunting in the dark for some way to + save his dear ones. And Merle lay so long waiting for one caress from him + that at last she had to draw out her handkerchief and press it over her + eyes, while her body shook with a noiseless sobbing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XII + </h2> + <p> + Old Lorentz D. Uthoug rarely visited his rich sister at Bruseth, but + to-day he had taken his weary way up there, and the two masterful old + folks sat now facing each other. + </p> + <p> + “So you’ve managed to find your way up here?” said Aunt Marit, throwing + out her ample bosom and rubbing her knees like a man. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes—I thought I’d like to see how you were getting on,” said + Uthoug, squaring his broad shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Quite well, thanks. Having no son-in-law, I’m not likely to go bankrupt, + I daresay.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not bankrupt, either,” said old Uthoug, fixing his red eyes on her + face. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not. But what about him?” + </p> + <p> + “Neither is he. He’ll be a rich man before very long.” + </p> + <p> + “He!—rich! Did you say rich?” + </p> + <p> + “Before a year’s out,” answered the old man calmly. “But you’ll have to + help.” + </p> + <p> + “I!” Aunt Marit shifted her chair backwards, gaping. “I, did you say? + Ha-ha-ha! Just tell me, how many hundreds of thousands did he lose over + that ditch or drain or whatever it was?” + </p> + <p> + “He was six months behind time in finishing it, I know. But the Company + agreed to halve the forfeit for delay when they’d seen what a masterpiece + the work was.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes—and what about the contractors, whom he couldn’t pay, I + hear?” + </p> + <p> + “He’s paid them all in full now. The Bank arranged things.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. After you and he had mortaged every stick and rag you had in the + world. Yes, indeed—you deserve a good whipping, the pair of you!” + </p> + <p> + Uthoug stroked his beard. “From a financial point of view the thing wasn’t + a success for him, I’ll admit. But I can show you here what the + engineering people say about it in the technical papers. Here’s an article + with pictures of him and of the barrage.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! he’d better keep his family on pictures in the papers then,” said + the widow, paying no attention to the paper he offered. + </p> + <p> + “He’ll soon be on top again,” said her brother, putting the papers back in + his pocket. He sat there in front of her quite unruffled. He would let + people see that he was not the man to be crushed by a reverse; that there + were other things he valued more than money. + </p> + <p> + “Soon be on top?” repeated Aunt Marit. “Has he got round you again with + some nonsense?” + </p> + <p> + “He’s invented a new mowing machine. It’s nearly finished. And the experts + say it will be worth a million.” + </p> + <p> + “Ho! and you want to come over me with a tale like that?” The widow + shifted her chair a little farther back. + </p> + <p> + “You must help us to carry on through this year—both of us. If you + will stand security for thirty thousand, the bank . . .” + </p> + <p> + Aunt Marit of Bruseth slapped her knees emphatically. “I’ll do nothing of + the sort!” + </p> + <p> + “For twenty thousand, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Not for twenty pence!” + </p> + <p> + Lorentz Uthoug fixed his gaze on his sister’s face; his red eyes began to + glow. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll have to do it, Marit,” he said calmly. He took a pipe from his + pocket and set to work to fill and light it. + </p> + <p> + The two sat for a while looking at each other, each on the alert for fear + the other’s will should prove the stronger. They looked at each other so + long that at last both smiled involuntarily. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you’ve taken to going to church with your wife now?” asked the + widow at last, her eyes blinking derision. + </p> + <p> + “If I put my trust in the Lord,” he said, “I might just sit down and pray + and let things go to ruin. As it is, I’ve more faith in human works, and + that’s why I’m here now.” + </p> + <p> + The answer pleased her. The widow at Bruseth was no churchgoer herself. + She thought the Lord had made a bad mistake in not giving her any + children. + </p> + <p> + “Will you have some coffee?” she asked, rising from her seat. + </p> + <p> + “Now you’re talking sense,” said her brother, and his eyes twinkled. He + knew his sister and her ways. And now he lit his pipe and leaned back + comfortably in his chair. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XIII + </h2> + <p> + Once more Peer stood in his workroom down at the foundry, wrestling with + fire and steel. + </p> + <p> + A working drawing is a useful thing; an idea in one’s head is all very + well. But the men he employed to turn his plans into tangible models + worked slowly; why not use his own hands for what had to be done? + </p> + <p> + When the workmen arrived at the foundry in the morning there was hammering + going on already in the little room. And when they left in the evening, + the master had not stopped working yet. When the good citizens of Ringeby + went to bed, they would look out of their windows and see his light still + burning. + </p> + <p> + Peer had had plenty to tire him out even before he began work here. But in + the old days no one had ever asked if he felt strong enough to do this or + that. And he never asked himself. Now, as before, it was a question of + getting something done, at any cost. And never before had there been so + much at stake. + </p> + <p> + The wooden model of the new machine is finished already, and the castings + put together. The whole thing looks simple enough, and yet—what a + distance from the first rough implement to this thing, which seems almost + to live—a thing with a brain of metal at least. Have not these + wheels and axles had their parents and ancestors—their pedigree + stretching back into the past? The steel has brought forth, and its + descendants again in turn, advancing always toward something finer, + stronger, more efficient. And here is the last stage reached by human + invention in this particular work up to now—yet, after all, is it + good enough? An invention successful enough to bring money in to the + inventor—that is not all. It must be more; it must be a + world-success, a thing to make its way across the prairies, across the + enormous plains of India and Egypt—that is what is needed. Sleep? + rest? food? What are such things when so much is at stake! + </p> + <p> + There was no longer that questioning in his ear: Why? Whither? What then? + Useless to ponder on these things. His horizon was narrowed down to + include nothing beyond this one problem. Once he had dreamed of a work + allied to his dreams of eternity. This, certainly, was not it. What does + the gain amount to, after all, when humanity has one more machine added to + it? Does it kindle a single ray of dawn the more in a human soul? + </p> + <p> + Yet this work, such as it was, had now become his all. It must and should + be all. He was fast bound to it. + </p> + <p> + When he looked up at the window, there seemed to be faces at each pane + staring in. “What? Not finished yet?” they seemed to say. “Think what it + means if you fail!” Merle’s face, and the children’s: “Must we be driven + from Loreng, out into the cold?” The faces of old Uthoug and his wife: + “Was it for this you came into an honourable family? To bring it to ruin?” + And behind them, swarming, all the town. All knew what was at stake, and + why he was toiling so. All stared at him, waiting. The Bank Manager was + there too—waiting, like the rest. + </p> + <p> + One can seize one’s neck in iron pincers, and say: You shall! Tired? + difficulties? time too short?—all that doesn’t exist. You shall! Is + this thing or that impossible? Well, make it possible. It is your business + to make it possible. + </p> + <p> + He spent but little time at home now; a sofa in the workshop was his bed. + Often Merle would come in with food for him, and seeing how pale and grey + and worn out he was, she did not dare to question him. She tried to jest + instead. She had trained herself long ago to be gay in a house where + shadows had to be driven off with laughter. + </p> + <p> + But one day, as she was leaving, he held her back, and looked at her with + a strange smile. + </p> + <p> + “Well, dear?” she said, with a questioning look. + </p> + <p> + He stood looking at her as before, with the same far-off smile. He was + looking through her into the little world she stood for. This home, this + family that he, a homeless man, had won through her, was it all to go down + in shipwreck? + </p> + <p> + Then he kissed her eyes and let her go. + </p> + <p> + And as her footsteps died away, he stood a moment, moved by a sudden + desire to turn to some Power above him with a prayer that he might succeed + in this work. But there was no such Power. And in the end his eyes turned + once more to the iron, the fire, his tools, and his own hands, and it was + as though he sighed out a prayer to these: “Help me—help me, that I + may save my wife and children’s happiness.” + </p> + <p> + Sleep? rest? weariness? He had only a year’s grace. The bank would only + wait a year. + </p> + <p> + Winter and spring passed, and one day in July he came home and rushed in + upon Merle crying, “To-morrow, Merle! They will be here to-morrow!” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “The people to look at the machine. We’re going to try it to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Peer!” she said breathlessly, gazing at him. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a good thing that I had connections abroad,” he went on. “There’s + one man coming from an English firm, and another from America. It ought to + be a big business.” + </p> + <p> + The morrow came. Merle stood looking after her husband as he drove off, + his hat on the back of his head, through the haze that followed the + night’s rain. But there was no time to stand trembling; they were to have + the strangers to dinner, and she must see to it. + </p> + <p> + Out in the field the machine stood ready, a slender, newly painted thing. + A boy was harnessing the horses. + </p> + <p> + Two men in soft hats and light overcoats came up; it was old Uthoug, and + the Bank Manager. They stopped and looked round, leaning on their sticks; + the results of the day were not a matter of entire indifference to these + two gentlemen. Ah! here was the big carriage from Loreng, with the two + strangers and Peer himself, who had been down to fetch them from the + hotel. + </p> + <p> + He was a little pale as he took the reins and climbed to his seat on the + machine, to drive it himself through the meadow of high, thick + timothy-grass. + </p> + <p> + The horses pricked up their ears and tried to break into a gallop, the + noise of the machine behind them startling them as usual at first, but + they soon settled down to a steady pace, and the steel arm bearing the + shears swept a broad swath through the meadow, where the grass stood + shining after the rain. + </p> + <p> + The two strangers walked slowly in the rear, bending down now and again to + look at the stubble, and see if the shears cut clean. The tall man with + the heavy beard and pince-nez was the agent for John Fowler of Leeds; the + little clean-shaven one with the Jewish nose represented Harrow & Co. + of Philadelphia. + </p> + <p> + Now and again they called to Peer to stop, while they investigated some + part of the machine. + </p> + <p> + They asked him then to try it on different ground; on an uneven slope, + over little tussocks; and at last the agent for Fowler’s would have it + that it should be tried on a patch of stony ground. But that would spoil + the shears? Very likely, but Fowler’s would like to know exactly how the + shears were affected by stones on the ground. + </p> + <p> + At last the trials were over, and the visitors nodded thoughtfully to each + other. Evidently they had come on something new here. There were + possibilities in the thing that might drive most other types out of the + field, even in the intense competition that rages all round the world in + agricultural machinery. + </p> + <p> + Peer read the expression in their eyes—these cold-blooded + specialists had seen the vision; they had seen gold. + </p> + <p> + But all the same there was a hitch—a little hitch. + </p> + <p> + Dinner was over, the visitors had left, and Merle and Peer were alone. She + lifted her eyes to his inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “It went off well then?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But there is just one little thing to put right.” + </p> + <p> + “Still something to put right—after you have worked so hard all + these months?” She sat down, and her hands dropped into her lap. + </p> + <p> + “It’s only a small detail,” he said eagerly, pacing up and down. “When the + grass is wet, it sticks between the steel fingers above the shears and + accumulates there and gets in the way. It’s the devil and all that I never + thought of testing it myself in wet weather. But once I’ve got that right, + my girl, the thing will be a world-success.” + </p> + <p> + Once more the machine was set up in his workshop, and he walked around it, + watching, spying, thinking, racking his brain to find the little device + that should make all well. All else was finished, all was right, but he + still lacked the single happy thought, the flash of inspiration—that + given, a moment’s work would be enough to give this thing of steel life, + and wings with which to fly out over the wide world. + </p> + <p> + It might come at any moment, that happy thought. And he tramped round and + round his machine, clenching his fists in desperation because it was so + slow in coming. + </p> + <p> + The last touch only, the dot upon an i, was wanting. A slight change in + the shape or position of the fingers, or the length of the shears—what + was it he wanted? How could he sleep that night? + </p> + <p> + He felt that he stood face to face with a difficulty that could have been + easily solved had he come fresh to the work, but that his tortured brain + was too worn out to overcome. + </p> + <p> + But when an Arab horse is ready to drop with fatigue, then is the time + when it breaks into a gallop. + </p> + <p> + He could not wait. There were the faces at the window again, staring and + asking: “Not finished yet?” Merle, the children, Uthoug and his wife, the + Bank Manager. And there were his competitors the world over. To-day he was + a length ahead of them, but by to-morrow he might be left behind. Wait? + Rest? No! + </p> + <p> + It was autumn now, and sleepless nights drove him to a doctor, who + prescribed cold baths, perfect quiet, sleeping draughts, iron and arsenic. + Ah, yes. Peer could swallow all the prescriptions—the one thing he + could not do was rest or sleep. + </p> + <p> + He would sit late into the night, prostrate with exhaustion, watching the + dying embers of the forge, the steel, the tools. And innumerable sparks + would begin to fly before his eyes, and masses of molten iron to creep + about like living things over walls and floor.—And over by the forge + was something more defined, a misty shape, that grew in size and clearness + and stood at last a bearded, naked demigod, with fire in one hand and + sledgehammer in the other. + </p> + <p> + “What? Who is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Man, do you not know me?” + </p> + <p> + “Who are you, I ask?” + </p> + <p> + “I have a thing to tell you: it is vain for you to seek for any other + faith than faith in the evolution of the universe. It will do no good to + pray. You may dream yourself away from the steel and the fire, but you + must offer yourself up to them at last. You are bound fast to these + things. Outside them your soul is nothing. God? happiness? yourself? + eternal life for you? All these are nothing. The will of the world rolls + on towards its eternal goal, and the individual is but fuel for the fire.” + </p> + <p> + Peer would spring up, believing for a moment that someone was really + there. But there was nothing, only the empty air. + </p> + <p> + Now and again he would go home to Loreng, but everything there seemed to + pass in a mist. He could see that Merle’s eyes were red, though she sang + cheerily as she went about the house. It seemed to him that she had begged + him to go to bed and rest, and he had gone to bed. It would be delicious + to sleep. But in the middle of the night it was borne in upon him that the + fault lay in the shape of the shears after all, and then there was no + stopping him from getting up and hurrying in to the workshop. Winter has + come round again, and he fights his way in through a snow-storm. And in + the quiet night he lights his lamp, kindles the forge fire, screws off the + blades of the shears once more. But when he has altered them and fixed + them in place again, he knows at once that the defect was not in them + after all. + </p> + <p> + Coffee is a good thing for keeping the brain clear. He took to making it + in the workshop for himself—and at night especially a few cups did + him good. They were so satisfying too, that he felt no desire for food. + And when he came to the conclusion that the best thing would be to make + each separate part of the machine over again anew, coffee was great help, + keeping him awake through many a long night. + </p> + <p> + It began to dawn upon him that Merle and his father-in-law and the Bank + Manager had taken to lurking about the place night and day, watching and + spying to see if the work were not nearly done. Why in the devil’s name + could they not leave him in peace—just one week more? In any case, + the machine could not be tried before next summer. At times the workers at + the foundry would be startled by their master suddenly rushing out from + his inner room and crying fiercely: “No one is to come in here. I WILL be + left in peace!” + </p> + <p> + And when he had gone in again, they would look at each other and shake + their heads. + </p> + <p> + One morning Merle came down and walked through the outer shops, and + knocked at the door of her husband’s room. There was no answer; and she + opened the door and went in. + </p> + <p> + A moment after, the workmen heard a woman’s shriek, and when they ran in + she was bending over her husband, who was seated on the floor, staring up + at her with blank, uncomprehending eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Peer,” she cried, shaking his shoulder—“Peer, do you hear? Oh, for + God’s sake—what is it, my darling—” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + One April day there was a stir in the little town of Ringeby, and a stream + of people, all in their best clothes (though it was only Wednesday), was + moving out along the fjord road to Loreng. There were the two editors, who + had just settled one of their everlasting disputes, and the two lawyers, + each still intent on snatching any scraps of business that offered; there + were tradesmen and artisans; and nearly everyone was wearing a long + overcoat and a grey felt hat. But the tanner had put on a high silk hat, + so as to look a little taller. + </p> + <p> + Where the road left the wood most of them stopped for a moment to look up + at Loreng. The great white house seemed to have set itself high on its + hill to look out far and wide over the lake and the country round. And men + talked of the great doings, the feasting and magnificence, the great house + had seen in days gone by, from the time when the place had been a + Governor’s residence until a few years back, when Engineer Holm was in his + glory. + </p> + <p> + But to-day the place was up to auction, with stock and furniture, and + people had walked or driven over from far around. For the bank management + felt they would not be justified in giving any longer grace, now that Peer + Holm was lying sick in hospital, and no doctor would undertake to say + whether he would ever be fit to work again. + </p> + <p> + The courtyard was soon crowded. Inside, in the great hall, the auctioneer + was beginning to put up the lots already, but most people hung back a + little, as if they felt a reluctance to go in. For the air in there seemed + charged with lingering memories of splendour and hospitality, from the + days when cavaliers with ruffles and golden spurs had done homage there to + ladies in sweeping silk robes—down to the last gay banquets to which + the famous engineer from Egypt had loved to gather all the gentry round in + the days of his prosperity. + </p> + <p> + Most of the people stood on the steps and in the entrance-hall. And now + and again they would catch a glimpse of a pale woman, dressed in black, + with thick dark eyebrows, crossing the courtyard to a servant’s house or a + storehouse to give some order for moving the things. It was Merle, now + mistress here no longer. + </p> + <p> + Old Lorentz D. Uthoug met his sister, the mighty lady of Bruseth, on the + steps. She looked at him, and there was a gleam of derision in her + narrowed eyes. But he drew himself up, and said as he passed her, “You’ve + nothing to be afraid of. I’ve settled things so that I’m not bankrupt yet. + And you shall have your share—in full.” + </p> + <p> + And he strode in, a broad-shouldered, upright figure, looking calmly at + all men, that all might see he was not the man to be crushed by a reverse. + </p> + <p> + Late in the day the chestnut, Bijou, was put up for sale. He was led + across the courtyard in a halter, and as he came he stopped for a moment, + and threw up his head, and neighed, and from the stables the other horses + neighed in answer. Was it a farewell? Did he remember the day, years ago, + when he had come there first, dancing on his white-stockinged feet, full + of youth and strength? + </p> + <p> + But by the woodshed there stood as usual a little grey old man, busy + sawing and chopping, as if nothing at all was the matter. One master left, + another took his place; one needed firewood, it seemed to him, as much as + the other. And if they came and gave him notice—why, thank the Lord, + he was stone deaf. Thud, thud, the sound of the axe went on. + </p> + <p> + A young man came driving up the hill, a florid-faced young man, with very + blue eyes. He took off his overcoat in the passage, revealing a long black + frock coat beneath and a large-patterned waistcoat. It was Uthoug junior, + general agent for English tweeds. He had taken no part in his + brother-in-law’s business affairs, and so he was able to help his father + in this crisis. + </p> + <p> + But the auction at Loreng went on for several days. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK III + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter I + </h2> + <p> + Once more a deep valley, with sun-steeped farms on the hillsides between + the river and the mountain-range behind. + </p> + <p> + One day about midsummer it was old Raastad himself that came down to meet + the train, driving a spring-cart, with a waggon following behind. Was he + expecting visitors? the people at the station asked him. “Maybe I am,” + said old Raastad, stroking his heavy beard, and he limped about looking to + his horses. Was it the folk who had taken the Court-house? “Ay, it’s + likely them,” said the old man. + </p> + <p> + The train came in, and a pale man, with grey hair and beard, and blue + spectacles, stepped out, and he had a wife and three children with him. + “Paul Raastad?” inquired the stranger. “Ay, that’s me,” said the old man. + The stranger looked up at the great mountains to the north, rising dizzily + into the sky. “The air ought to be good here,” said he. “Ay, the air’s + good enough, by all accounts,” said Raastad, and began loading up the + carts. + </p> + <p> + They drove off up the hill road. The man and his wife sat in the + spring-cart, the woman with a child in her lap, but a boy and a girl were + seated on the load in the baggage-waggon behind Raastad. “Can we see the + farm from here?” asked the woman, turning her head. “There,” said the old + man, pointing. And looking, they saw a big farmstead high up on a sunny + hill-slope, close under the crest, and near by a long low house with a + steep slate roof, the sort of place where the district officers used to + live in old days. “Is that the house we are to live in?” she asked again. + “Ay, that’s it, right enough,” said old Raastad, and chirruped to his + horses. + </p> + <p> + The woman looked long at the farm and sighed. So this was to be their new + home. They were to live here, far from all their friends. And would it + give him back his health, after all the doctors’ medicines had failed? + </p> + <p> + A Lapland dog met them at the gate and barked at them; a couple of pigs + came down the road, stopped and studied the new arrivals with profound + attention, then wheeled suddenly and galloped off among the houses. + </p> + <p> + The farmer’s wife herself was waiting outside the Court-house, a tall + wrinkled woman with a black cap on her head. “Welcome,” she said, offering + a rough and bony hand. + </p> + <p> + The house was one of large low-ceiled rooms, with big stoves that would + need a deal of firewood in winter. The furniture was a mixture of every + possible sort and style: a mahogany sofa, cupboards with painted roses on + the panels, chairs covered with “Old Norse” carving, and on the walls + appalling pictures of foreign royal families and of the Crucifixion. “Good + Heavens!” said Merle, as they went round the rooms alone: “how shall we + ever get used to all this?” + </p> + <p> + But just then Louise came rushing in, breathless with news. “Mother—father—there + are goats here!” And little Lorentz came toddling in after her: “Goats, + mother,” he cried, stumbling over the doorstep. + </p> + <p> + The old house had stood empty and dead for years. Now it seemed to have + wakened up again. Footsteps went in and out, and the stairs creaked once + more under the tread of feet, small, pattering, exploring feet, and big + feet going about on grown-up errands. There was movement in every corner: + a rattle of pots and pans in the kitchen; fires blazed up, and smoke began + to rise from the chimney; people passing by outside looked up at it and + saw that the dead old house had come to life again. + </p> + <p> + Peer was weak still after his illness, but he could help a little with the + unpacking. It took very little, though, to make him out of breath and + giddy, and there was a sledge-hammer continually thumping somewhere in the + back of his head. Suppose—suppose, after all, the change here does + you no good? You are at the last stage. You’ve managed to borrow the money + to keep you all here for a year. And then? Your wife and children? Hush!—better + not think of that. Not that; think of anything else, only not that. + </p> + <p> + Clothes to be carried upstairs. Yes, yes—and to think it was all to + end in your living on other people’s charity. Even that can’t go on long. + If you should be no better next summer—or two years hence?—what + then? For yourself—yes, there’s always one way out for you. But + Merle and the children? Hush, don’t think of it! Once it was your whole + duty to finish a certain piece of work in a certain time. Now it is your + duty to get well again, to be as strong as a horse by next year. It is + your duty. If only the sledge-hammer would stop, that cursed sledge-hammer + in the back of your head. + </p> + <p> + Merle, as she went out and in, was thinking perhaps of the same thing, but + her head was full of so much else—getting things in order and the + household set going. Food had to be bought from the local shop; and how + many litres of milk would she require in the morning? Where could she get + eggs? She must go across at once to the Raastads’ and ask. So the pale + woman in the dark dress walked slowly with bowed head across the + courtyard. But when she stopped to speak to people about the place, they + would forget their manners and stare at her, she smiled so strangely. + </p> + <p> + “Father, there’s a box of starlings on the wall here,” said Louise as she + lay in bed with her arms round Peer’s neck saying good-night. “And there’s + a swallow’s nest under the eaves too.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, we’ll have great fun at Raastad—just you wait and see.” + </p> + <p> + Soon Merle and Peer too lay in their strange beds, looking out at the + luminous summer night. + </p> + <p> + They were shipwrecked people washed ashore here. But it was not so clear + that they were saved. + </p> + <p> + Peer turned restlessly from side to side. He was so worn to skin and bone + that his nerves seemed laid bare, and he could not rest in any position. + Also there were three hundred wheels whirring in his head, and striking + out sparks that flew up and turned to visions. + </p> + <p> + Rest? why had he never been content to rest in the days when all went + well? + </p> + <p> + He had made his mark at the First Cataract, yes, and had made big sums of + money out of his new pump; but all the time there were the gnawing + questions: Why? and whither? and what then? He had been Chief Engineer and + had built a railway, and could have had commissions to build more railways—but + again the questions: Why? and what then? Home, then, home and strike root + in his native land—well, and had that brought him rest? What was it + that drove him away again? The steel, the steel and the fire. + </p> + <p> + Ah! that day when he had stepped down from the mowing machine and had been + ensnared by the idea of improving it. Why had he ever taken it up? Did he + need money? No. Or was the work at a standstill? No. But the steel would + on; it had need of a man; it had taken him by the throat and said, “You + shall!” + </p> + <p> + Happiness? Rest? Ah no! For, you see, a stored-up mass of knowledge and + experience turns one fine day into an army of evil powers, that lash you + on and on, unceasingly. You may stumble, you may fall—what does it + matter? The steel squeezes one man dry, and then grips the next. The flame + of the world has need of fuel—bow thy head, Man, and leap into the + fire. + </p> + <p> + To-day you prosper—to-morrow you are cast down into a hell on earth. + What matter? You are fuel for the fire. + </p> + <p> + But I will not, I will not be swallowed up in the flame of the world, even + though it be the only godhead in the universe. I will tear myself loose, + be something in and for myself. I will have an immortal soul. The + world-transformation that progress may have wrought a thousand years hence—what + is it to me? + </p> + <p> + Your soul? Just think of all your noble feelings towards that true-born + half-brother of yours—ha-ha-ha! Shakespeare was wrong. It’s the + bastard that gets cheated. + </p> + <p> + “Dearest Peer, do, for God’s sake, try to get to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes. I’ll get to sleep all right. But it’s so hot.” He threw off the + clothes and lay breathing heavily. + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure you’re lying thinking and brooding over things. Can’t you do + what the Swedish doctor told you—just try to think that everything + is dark all round you.” + </p> + <p> + Peer turns round, and everything around him is dark. But in the heart of + that darkness waves arise, waves of melody, rolling nearer, nearer. It is + the sound of a hymn—it is Louise standing playing, his sister + Louise. And what peace—O God, what peace and rest! + </p> + <p> + But soon Louise fades away, she fades away, and vanishes like a flame + blown out. And there comes a roaring noise, nearer and nearer, grinding, + crashing, rattling—and he knows now what it is only too well: it is + the song of the steel. + </p> + <p> + The roar of steel from ships and from railway-trains, with their pairs of + yellow evil eyes, rushing on, full of human captives, whither? Faster, + faster—driven by competition, by the steel demon that hunts men on + without rest or respite—that hurries on the pulse of the world to + fever, to hallucination, to madness. + </p> + <p> + Crashing of steel girders falling, the hum of wheels, the clash of cranes + and winches and chains, the clang of steam-hammers at work—all are + in that roar. The fire flares up with hellish eyes in every dark corner, + and men swarm around in the red glow like evil angels. They are the slaves + of steel and fire, lashed onwards, never resting. + </p> + <p> + Is this the spirit of Prometheus? Look, the will of steel is flinging men + up into the air now. It is conquering the heavens. Why? That it may rush + the faster. It craves for yet more speed, quicker, quicker, dizzier yet, + hurrying—wherefore?—whither? Alas! it knows not itself. + </p> + <p> + Are the children of the earth grown so homeless? Do they fear to take a + moment’s rest? Do they dread to look inward and see their own emptiness? + Are they longing for something they have lost—some hymn, some + harmony, some God? + </p> + <p> + God? They find a bloodthirsty Jehovah, and an ascetic on the cross. What + gods are these for modern men? Religious history, not religion. + </p> + <p> + “Peer,” says Merle again, “for God’s sake try to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Merle, do you think I shall get well here?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, don’t you feel already how splendid the air is? Of course you’ll get + well.” + </p> + <p> + He twined his fingers into hers, and at last the sound of Louise’s hymn + came to him once more, lifting and rocking him gently till his eyes + closed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter II + </h2> + <p> + A little road winds in among the woods, two wheel-tracks only, with a + carpet of brown pine-needles between; but there are trees and the sky, + quiet and peace, so that it’s a real blessing to walk there. It rises and + falls so gently, that no one need get out of breath; indeed, it seems to + go along with one all the time, in mere friendliness, whispering: “Take it + easy. Take your time. Have a good rest here.” And so on it goes, winding + in among the tree-trunks, slender and supple as a young girl. + </p> + <p> + Peer walked here every day. He would stop and look up into the tops of the + fir trees, and walk on again; then sit down for a moment on a mossy stone; + but only for a moment—always he was up again soon and moving on, + though he had nowhere to go. But at least there was peace here. He would + linger watching an insect as it crept along a fir branch, or listening to + the murmur of the river in the valley far below, or breathing in the + health-giving scent of the resin, thick in the warm air. + </p> + <p> + This present life of his was one way of living. As he lay, after a + sleepless night, watching the window grow lighter with the dawn, he would + think: Yet another new day—and nothing that I can do in it. + </p> + <p> + And yet he had to get up, and dress, and go down and eat. His bread had a + slightly bitter taste to him—it tasted of charity and dependence, of + the rich widow at Bruseth and the agent for English tweeds. And he must + remember to eat slowly, to masticate each mouthful carefully, to rest + after meals, and above all not to think—not to think of anything in + the wide world. Afterwards, he could go out and in like other people, only + that all his movements and actions were useless and meaningless in + themselves; they were done only for the sake of health, or to keep + thoughts away, or to make the time go by. + </p> + <p> + How had this come to pass? He found it still impossible to grasp how such + senseless things can happen and no Providence interfere to set them right. + Why should he have been so suddenly doomed to destruction? Days, weeks and + months of his best manhood oozing away into empty nothingness—why? + Sleeplessness and tortured nerves drove him to do things that his will + disowned; he would storm at his wife and children if a heel so much as + scraped on the floor, and the remorse that followed, sometimes ending in + childish tears, did no good, for the next time the same thing, or worse, + would happen again. This was the burden of his days. This was the life he + was doomed to live. + </p> + <p> + But up here on the little forest track he harms no one; and no racking + noises come thrusting sharp knives into his spine. Here is a great peace; + a peace that does a man good. Down on the grassy slope below stands a + tumble-down grey barn; it reminds him of an old worn-out horse, lifting + its head from grazing to gaze at you—a lonely forsaken creature it + seems—to-morrow it will sink to the ground and rise no more—yet + IT takes its lot calmly and patiently. + </p> + <p> + Ugh! how far he has got from Raastad. A cold sweat breaks out over his + body for fear he may not have strength to walk back again uphill. Well, + pull yourself together. Rest a little. And he lies down on his back in a + field of clover, and stares up at the sky. + </p> + <p> + A stream of clean air, fresh from the snow, flows all day long down the + valley; as if Jotunheim itself, where it lies in there beneath the sky, + were breathing in easy well-being. Peer fills his lungs again and again + with long deep draughts, drinking in the air like a saving potion. “Help + me then, oh air, light, solitude! help me that I may be whole once more + and fit to work, for this is the one and only religion left me to cling + to.” + </p> + <p> + High above, over the two mountain ranges, a blue flood stands immovable, + and in its depths eternal rest is brooding. But is there a will there too, + that is concerned with men on earth? You do not believe in it, and yet a + little prayer mounts up to it as well! Help me—thou too. Who? Thou + that hearest. If Thou care at all for the miserable things called men that + crawl upon the earth—help me! If I once prayed for a great work that + could stay my hunger for things eternal, I repent me now and confess that + it was pride and vanity. Make me a slave, toiling at servile tasks for + food, so that Merle and the children be not taken from me. Hearest Thou? + </p> + <p> + Does anyone in heaven find comfort in seeing men tortured by blind + fortune? Are my wife and my children slaves of an unmeaning chance—and + yet can smile and laugh? Answer me, if Thou hearest—Thou of the many + names. + </p> + <p> + A grasshopper is shrilling in the grass about him. Suddenly he starts up + sitting. A railway-train goes screaming past below. + </p> + <p> + And so the days go on. + </p> + <p> + Each morning Merle would steal a glance at her husband’s face, to see if + he had slept; if his eyes were dull, or inflamed, or calm. Surely he must + be better soon! Surely their stay here must do him good. She too had lost + faith in medicines, but this air, the country life, the solitude—rest, + rest—surely there must soon be some sign that these were helping + him. + </p> + <p> + Many a time she rose in the morning without having closed her eyes all + night. But there were the children to look after, the house to see to, and + she had made up her mind to get on without a maid if she possibly could. + </p> + <p> + “What has taken you over to the farm so much lately?” she asked one day. + “You have been sitting over there with old Raastad for hours together.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I go over to amuse myself and pass the time,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Do you talk politics?” + </p> + <p> + “No—we play cards. Why do you look at me like that?” + </p> + <p> + “You never cared for cards before.” + </p> + <p> + “No; but what the devil am I to do? I can’t read, because of these cursed + eyes of mine—and the hammering in my head. . . . And I’ve counted + all the farms up and down the valley now. There are fifty in all. And on + the farm here there are just twenty-one houses, big and little. What the + devil am I to take to next?” + </p> + <p> + Merle sighed. “It is hard,” she said. “But couldn’t you wait till the + evening to play cards—till the children are in bed—then I + could play with you. That would be better.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you very much. But what about the rest of the day? Do you know what + it’s like to go about from dawn to dark feeling that every minute is + wasted, and wasted for nothing? No, you can’t know it. What am I to do + with myself all through one of these endless, deadly days? Drink myself + drunk?” + </p> + <p> + “Couldn’t you try cutting firewood for a little?” + </p> + <p> + “Firewood?” He whistled softly. “Well, that’s an idea. Ye—yes. Let’s + try chopping firewood for a change.” + </p> + <p> + Thud, thud, thud! + </p> + <p> + But as he straightened his back for a breathing-space, the whirr, whirr of + Raastad’s mowing machine came to him from the hill-slope near by where it + was working, and he clenched his teeth as if they ached. He was driving a + mowing machine of his own invention, and it was raining continually, and + the grass kept sticking, sticking—and how to put it right—put + it right? It was as if blows were falling on festering wounds in his head, + making him dance with pain. Thud, thud, thud!—anything to drown the + whirr of that machine. + </p> + <p> + But a man may use an axe with his hands, and yet have idiotic fancies all + the time bubbling and seething in his head. The power to hold in check the + vagaries of imagination may be gone. From all sides they come creeping out + in swarms, they swoop down on him like birds of prey—as if in + revenge for having been driven away so often before—they cry: here + we are! He stood once more as an apprentice in the mechanical works, + riveting the plates of a gigantic boiler with a compressed-air tube—cling, + clang! The wailing clang of the boiler went out over the whole town. And + now that same boiler is set up inside his head—cling-clang—ugh! + A cold sweat breaks out upon his body; he throws down the axe; he must go—must + fly, escape somewhere—where, he cannot tell. Faces that he hates to + think of peer out at him from every corner, yapping out: “Heh!—what + did we say? To-day a beggar—to-morrow a madman in a cell.” + </p> + <p> + But it may happen, too, that help comes in the night. Things come back to + a man that it is good to remember. That time—and that other. . . . A + woman there—and the one you met in such a place. There is a picture + in the Louvre, by Veronese: a young Venetian woman steps out upon the + marble stairway of a palace holding a golden-haired boy by the hand; she + is dressed in black velvet, she glows with youth and happiness. A lovers’ + meeting in her garden? The first kiss! Moonlight and mandolins! + </p> + <p> + A shudder of pleasure passes through his weary body. Bright recollections + and impressions flock towards him like spirits of light—he can hear + the rushing sound of their wings—he calls to them for aid, and they + encircle him round; they struggle with the spirits of darkness for his + soul. He has known much brightness, much beauty in his life—surely + the bright angels are the stronger and must conquer. Ah! why had he not + lived royally, amidst women and flowers and wine? + </p> + <p> + One morning as he was getting up, he said: “Merle, I must and will hit + upon something that’ll send me to bed thoroughly tired out.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes dear,” she answered. “Do try.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll try wheeling stones to begin with,” he said. “The devil’s in it if a + day at that doesn’t make a man sleep.” + </p> + <p> + So that day and for many days he wheeled stones from some newly broken + land on the hillside down to a dyke that ran along the road. + </p> + <p> + Calm, golden autumn days; one farm above another rising up towards the + crest of the range, all set in ripe yellow fields. One little cottage + stands right on the crest against the sky itself, and it, too, has its + tiny patch of yellow corn. And an eagle sails slowly across the deep + valley from peak to peak. + </p> + <p> + People passing by stared at Peer as he went about bare-headed, in his + shirt-sleeves, wheeling stones. “Aye, gentlefolks have queer notions,” + they would say, shaking their heads. + </p> + <p> + “That’s it—keep at it,” a dry, hacking voice kept going in Peer’s + head. “It is idiocy, but you are doomed to it. Shove hard with those + skinny legs of yours; many a jade before you has had to do the same. + You’ve got to get some sleep tonight. Only ten months left now; and then + we shall have Lucifer turning up at the cross-roads once more. Poor Merle—she’s + beginning to grow grey. And the poor little children—dreaming of + father beating them, maybe, they cry out so often in their sleep. Off now, + trundle away. Now over with that load; and back for another. + </p> + <p> + “You, that once looked down on the soulless toil for bread, you have sunk + now to something far more miserable. You are dragging at a load of sheer + stupidity. You are a galley-slave, with calamity for your task-master. As + you move the chains rattle. And that is your day.” + </p> + <p> + He straightens himself up, wipes the sweat from his forehead, and begins + heaving up stones into his barrow again. + </p> + <p> + How long must it last, this life in manacles? Do you remember Job? Job? + Aye, doubtless Jehovah was sitting at some jovial feast when he conceived + that fantasy of a drunken brain, to let Satan loose upon a happy man. Job? + His seven sons and daughters, and his cattle, and his calves were restored + unto him, but we read nothing of any compensation made him for the jest + itself. He was made to play court fool, with his boils and his tortures + and his misery, and the gods had their bit of sport gratis. Job had his + actual outlay in cattle and offspring refunded, and that was all. Ha-ha! + </p> + <p> + Prometheus! Is it you after all that are the friend of man among the gods? + Have you indeed the power to free us all some day? When will you come, + then, to raise the great revolt? + </p> + <p> + Come, come—up with the barrow again—you see it is full. + </p> + <p> + “Father, it’s dinner-time. Come along home,” cries little Louise, racing + down the hill with her yellow plaits flying about her ears. But she stops + cautiously a little distance off—there is no knowing what sort of + temper father may be in. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, little monkey. Got anything good for dinner to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Aha! that’s a secret,” said the girl in a teasing voice; she was beaming + now, with delight at finding him approachable. “Catch me, father! I can + run quicker than you can!” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid I’m too tired just now, my little girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, poor papa! are you tired?” And she came up and took him by the hand. + Then she slipped her arm into his—it was just as good fun to walk up + the hill on her father’s arm like a grown-up young lady. + </p> + <p> + Then came the frosts. And one morning the hilltops were turned into leaden + grey clouds from which the snow came sweeping down. Merle stood at the + window, her face grey in the clammy light. She looked down the valley to + where the mountains closed it in; it seemed still narrower than before; + one’s breath came heavily, and one’s mind seemed stifled under cold damp + wrappings. + </p> + <p> + Ugh! Better go out into the kitchen and set to work again—work—work + and forget. + </p> + <p> + Then one day there came a letter telling her that her mother was dead. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter III + </h2> + <p> + DEAR KLAUS BROCK,— + </p> + <p> + Legendary being! Cast down from Khedivial heights one day and up again on + high with Kitchener the next. But, in Heaven’s name, what has taken you to + the Soudan? What made you go and risk your life at Omdurman? The same old + desperation, I suppose, that you’re always complaining about. And why, of + all things, plant yourself away in an outpost on the edge of the + wilderness, to lie awake at nights nursing suicidal thoughts over + Schopenhauer? You have lived without principles, you say. And wasted your + youth. And are homeless now all round, with no morals, no country, no + religion. But will you make all this better by making things much worse? + </p> + <p> + You’ve no reason to envy me my country life, by the way, and there’s no + sense in your going about longing for the little church of your childhood, + with its Moses and hymns and God. Well, longing does no harm, perhaps, but + don’t ever try to find it. The fact is, old fellow, that such things are + not to be found any more. + </p> + <p> + I take it that religion had the same power on you in your childhood as it + had with me. We were wild young scamps, both of us, but we liked going to + church, not for the sake of the sermons, but to bow our heads when the + hymn arose and join in singing it. When the waves of the organ-music + rolled through the church, it seemed—to me at least—as if + something were set swelling in my own soul, bearing me away to lands and + kingdoms where all at last was as it should be. And when we went out into + the world we went with some echo of the hymn in our hearts, and we might + curse Jehovah, but in a corner of our minds the hymn lived on as a + craving, a hunger for some world-harmony. All through the busy day we + might bear our part in the roaring song of the steel, but in the evenings, + on our lonely couch, another power would come forth in our minds, the + hunger for the infinite, the longing to be cradled and borne up on the + waves of eternity, whose way is past all finding out. + </p> + <p> + Never believe, though, that you’ll find the church of your childhood now + in any of our country places. We have electric light now everywhere, + telephones, separators, labour unions and political meetings, but the + church stands empty. I have been there. The organ wails as if it had the + toothache, the precentor sneezes out a hymn, the congregation does not + lift the roof off with its voice, for the very good reason that there is + no congregation there. And the priest, poor devil, stands up in his pulpit + with his black moustache and pince-nez; he is an officer in the army + reserve, and he reads out his highly rational remarks from a manuscript. + But his face says all the time—“You two paupers down there that make + up my congregation, you don’t believe a word I am saying; but never mind, + I don’t believe it either.” It’s a tragic business when people have + outgrown their own conception of the divine. And we—we are certainly + better than Jehovah. The dogma of the atonement, based on original sin and + the bloodthirstiness of God, is revolting to us; we shrug our shoulders, + and turn away with a smile, or in disgust. We are not angels yet, but we + are too good to worship such a God as that. + </p> + <p> + There is some excuse for the priest, of course. He must preach of some + God. And he has no other. + </p> + <p> + Altogether, it’s hardly surprising that even ignorant peasants shake their + heads and give the church a wide berth. What do they do on Sundays, then? + My dear fellow, they have no Sunday. They sit nodding their heads over a + long table, waiting for the day to pass. They remind one of plough horses, + that have filled their bellies, and stand snoring softly, because there’s + no work today. + </p> + <p> + The great evolutionary scheme, with its wonders of steel and miracles of + science, goes marching on victoriously, I grant you, changing the face of + the world, hurrying its pulse to a more and more feverish beat. But what + good will it do the peasant to be able to fly through the air on his + wheelbarrow, while no temple, no holy day, is left him any more on earth? + What errand can he have up among the clouds, while yet no heaven arches + above his soul? + </p> + <p> + This is the burning question with all of us, with you in the desert as + with us up here under the Pole. To me it seems that we need One who will + make our religion new—not merely a new prophet, but a new God. + </p> + <p> + You ask about my health—well, I fancy it’s too early yet to speak + about it. But so much I will say: If you should ever be in pain and + suffering, take it out on yourself—not on others. + </p> + <p> + Greetings from us all. + </p> + <p> + Yours, + </p> + <p> + PEER DALESMAN. <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter IV + </h2> + <p> + Christmas was near, the days were all grey twilight, and there was a frost + that set the wall-timbers cracking. The children went about blue with + cold. When Merle scrubbed the floors, they turned into small + skating-rinks, though there might be a big fire in the stove. Peer waded + and waded through deep snow to the well for water, and his beard hung like + a wreath of icicles about his face. + </p> + <p> + Aye, this was a winter. + </p> + <p> + Old Raastad’s two daughters were in the dairy making whey-cheese. The door + was flung open, there was a rush of frosty air, and Peer stood there + blinking his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Huh! what smokers you two are!” + </p> + <p> + “Are we now?” And the red-haired one and the fair-haired one both giggled, + and they looked at each other and nodded. This queer townsman-lodger of + theirs never came near them that he didn’t crack jokes. + </p> + <p> + “By the way, Else, I dreamed last night that we were going to be married.” + </p> + <p> + Both the girls shrieked with delight at this. + </p> + <p> + “And Mari, you were married to the bailiff.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh my! That old creature down at Moen?” + </p> + <p> + “He was much older. Ninety years old he was.” + </p> + <p> + “Uf!—you’re always at your nonsense,” said the red-haired girl, + stirring away at her huge, steaming cauldron. + </p> + <p> + Peer went out again. The girls were hardly out of their teens, and yet + their faces seemed set already and stiff with earnestness. And whenever + Peer had managed to set them laughing unawares, they seemed frightened the + next minute at having been betrayed into doing something there was no + profit in. + </p> + <p> + Peer strode about in the crackling snow with his fur cap drawn down over + his ears. Jotunheim itself lay there up north, breathing an icy-blue cold + out over the world. + </p> + <p> + And he? Was he to go on like this, growing hunchbacked under a burden that + weighed and bowed him down continually? Why the devil could he not shake + it off, break away from it, and kick out bravely at his evil fate? + </p> + <p> + “Peer,” asked Merle, standing in the kitchen, “what did you think of + giving the children for a Christmas present?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a palace each, and a horse to ride, of course. When you’ve more money + than you know what to do with, the devil take economy. And what about you, + my girl? Any objection to a couple of thousand crowns’ worth of furs?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but seriously. The children haven’t any ski—nor a hand-sleigh.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, have you the money to buy them? I haven’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you tried making them yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Ski?” Peer turned over the notion, whistling. “Well, why not? And a + sleigh? We might manage that. But what about little Asta?—she’s too + little for that sort of thing.” + </p> + <p> + “She hasn’t any bed for her doll.” + </p> + <p> + Peer whistled again. “There’s something in that. That’s an idea. I’m not + so handless yet that I couldn’t—” + </p> + <p> + He was soon hard at it. There were tools and a joiner’s bench in an + outhouse, and there he worked. He grew easily tired; his feet tried + constantly to take him to the door, but he forced himself to go on. Is + there anything in the notion that a man can get well by simply willing it? + I will, will, will. The thought of others besides himself began to get the + upper hand of those birds of prey ravening in his head. Presents for the + children, presents that father had made himself—the picture made + light and warmth in his mind. Drive ahead then. + </p> + <p> + When it came to making the iron ribbons for the sleigh runners he had to + go across to the smithy; and there stood a cottar at work roughing + horseshoes. Red glowing iron once more, and steel. The clang of hammer on + anvil seemed to tear his ears; yet it drew him on too. It was long since + last he heard that sound. And there were memories. + </p> + <p> + “Want this welded, Jens? Where’s the borax? Look here, this is the way of + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Might ha’ been born and bred a smith,” said Jens, as he watched the deft + and easy hammer-strokes. + </p> + <p> + Christmas Eve came, and the grey farm-pony dragged up a big wooden case to + the door. Peer opened it and carried in the things—a whole heap of + good things for Christmas from the Ringeby relations. + </p> + <p> + He bit his lips when he saw all the bags piled up on the kitchen table. + There had been a time not long ago when Merle and he had loaded up a + sledge at the Loreng storehouse and driven off with Christmas gifts to all + the poor folk round. It was part of the season’s fun for them. And now—now + they must even be glad to receive presents themselves. + </p> + <p> + “Merle—have WE nothing we can give away this year?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. What do you think?” + </p> + <p> + “A poor man’s Christmas it’ll be with a vengeance—if we’re only to + take presents, and haven’t the least little thing to give away.” + </p> + <p> + Merle sighed. “We must hope it won’t happen to us again,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I won’t have it happen to us now,” he said, pacing up and down. “There’s + that poor devil of a joiner down at Moen, with consumption. I’m going down + there with a bit of a parcel to chuck in at his door, if I have to take + your shift and the shirt off my back. You know yourself it won’t be any + Christmas at all, if we don’t do something.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—if you like. I’ll see if we can’t find something among the + children’s clothes that they can do without.” + </p> + <p> + The end of it was that Merle levied toll on all the parcels from home, + both rice and raisins and cakes, and made up little packets of them to + send round by him. That was Merle’s way; let her alone and she would hit + upon something. + </p> + <p> + The snow creaked and crackled underfoot as Peer went off on his errand. A + starry sky and a biting wind, and light upon light from the windows of the + farms scattered over the dark hillsides. High above all, against the sky, + there was one little gleam that might be a cottage window, or might be a + star. + </p> + <p> + Peer was flushed and freshened up when he came back into the warmth of the + room. And a chorus of joyful shouts was raised when Merle announced to the + children: “Father’s going to bath you all to-night.” + </p> + <p> + The sawed-off end of a barrel was the bathing-tub, and Peer stood in the + kitchen with his sleeves rolled up, holding the naked little bodies as + they sprawled about in the steaming water. + </p> + <p> + Mother was busy with something or other in the sitting-room. But it was a + great secret, and the children were very mysterious about it. “No, no, you + mustn’t go in,” they said to little Asta, who went whimpering for her + mother to the door. + </p> + <p> + And later in the evening, when the Christmas-tree was lit up, and the + windows shone white with frost, there were great doings all about the + sitting room floor. Louise got her ski on and immediately fell on her + face; Lorentz, astride of the new sleigh, was shouting “Hi, hi!—clear + the course there!”, and over in a corner sat little Asta, busy putting her + baby to bed and singing it to sleep. + </p> + <p> + Husband and wife looked at each other and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “What did I tell you?” said Merle. + </p> + <p> + Slowly, with torturing slowness, the leaden-grey winter days creep by. For + two hours in the middle of the day there is pale twilight—for two + hours—then darkness again. Through the long nights the north wind + howls funeral dirges—hu-u-u-u—and piles up the snow into great + drifts across the road, deep enough, almost, to smother a sleigh and its + driver. The days and nights come and go, monotonous, unchanged; the same + icy grey daylight, and never a human soul to speak to. Across the valley a + great solid mountain wall hems you in, and you gaze at it till it nearly + drives you mad. If only one could bore a hole through it, and steal a + glimpse of the world beyond, or could climb up to the topmost ridge and + for a moment look far round to a wide horizon, and breathe freely once + more. + </p> + <p> + At last one day the grey veil lifts a little. A strip of blue sky appears—and + hearts grow lighter at the sight. The snow peaks to the south turn golden. + What? Is it actually the sun? And day by day now a belt of gold grows + broader, comes lower and lower on the hillside, till the highest-lying + farms are steeped in it and glow red. And at last one day the red flame + reaches the Courthouse, and shines in across the floor of the room where + Merle is sitting by the window patching the seat of a tiny pair of + trousers. + </p> + <p> + What life and cheer it brings with it! + </p> + <p> + “Mother—here’s the sun,” cries Louise joyfully from the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, child, I see it.” + </p> + <p> + But Louise has only looked in for a moment to beg some cake for Lorentz + and herself, and be off again on her ski to the hill-slopes. “Thank you, + mother—you’re a darling!” And with a slice in each hand she dashes + out, glowing with health and the cold air. + </p> + <p> + If only Peer could glow with health again! But though one day they might + persuade themselves that now—now at last he had turned the corner—the + next he would be lying tossing about in misery, and it all seemed more + hopeless than ever. He had taken to the doctors’ medicines again—arsenic + and iron and so forth—and the quiet and fresh air they had + prescribed were here in plenty; would nothing do him any good? There were + not so many months of their year left now. + </p> + <p> + And then? Another winter here? And living on charity—ah me! Merle + shook her head and sighed. + </p> + <p> + The time had come, too, when Louise should go to school. + </p> + <p> + “Send the children over to me—all three of them, if you like,” wrote + Aunt Marit from Bruseth. No, thanks; Merle knew what that meant. Aunt + Marit wanted to keep them for good. + </p> + <p> + Lose her children—give away her children to others? Was the day to + come when that burden, too, would be laid upon them? + </p> + <p> + But schooling they must have; they must learn enough at least to fit them + to make a living when they grew up. And if their own parents could not + afford them schooling, why—why then perhaps they had no right to + keep them? + </p> + <p> + Merle sewed and sewed on, lifting her head now and again, so that the + sunlight fell on her face. + </p> + <p> + How the snow shone—like purple under the red flood of sunlight. + After all, their troubles seemed a little easier to bear to-day. It was as + if something frozen in her heart were beginning to thaw. + </p> + <p> + Louise was getting on well with her violin. Perhaps one day the child + might go out into the world, and win the triumphs that her mother had + dreamed of in vain. + </p> + <p> + There was a sound of hurried steps in the passage, and she started and sat + in suspense. Would he come in raging, or in despair, or had the pains in + his head come back? The door opened. + </p> + <p> + “Merle! I have it now. By all the gods, little woman, something’s happened + at last!” + </p> + <p> + Merle half rose from her seat, but sank back again, gazing at his face. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got it this time, Merle,” he said again. “And how on earth I never + hit on it before—when it’s as simple as shelling peas!” + </p> + <p> + He was stalking about the room now, with his hands in his pockets, + whistling. + </p> + <p> + “But what is it, Peer?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you see, I was standing there chopping wood. And all the time swarms + of mowing machines—nine million of them—were going in my head, + all with the grass sticking fast to the shears and clogging them up. I was + in a cold sweat—I felt myself going straight to hell—and then, + in a flash—a flash of steel—it came to me. It means salvation + for us, Merle, salvation.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do talk so that I can understand a little of what you’re saying.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, don’t you see—all that’s wanted is a small movable steel brush + above the shears, to flick away the grass and keep them clear. Hang it + all, a child could see it. By Jove, little woman, it’ll soon be changed + times with us now.” + </p> + <p> + Merle laid her work down in her lap and let her hands fall. If this were + true! + </p> + <p> + “I’ll have the machine up here, Merle. Making the brushes and fixing them + on will be no trouble at all—I can do it in a day in the smithy + here.” + </p> + <p> + “What—you had better try! You’re just beginning to get a little + better, and you want to spoil it all again!” + </p> + <p> + “I shall never get well, Merle, as long as I have that infernal machine in + my head balancing between world-success and fiasco. It presses on my brain + like a leaden weight, I shall never have a decent night’s sleep till I get + rid of it. Oh, my great God—if times were to change some day—even + for us! Well! Do you think I wouldn’t get well when that day came!” + </p> + <p> + This time she let him take her in his arms. But when he had gone, she sat + still, watching the sun sink behind the snow-ranges, till her eyes grew + dim and her breath came heavily. + </p> + <p> + A week later, when the sun was flaming on the white roofs, the grey pony + dragged a huge packing-case up to Raastad. And the same day a noise of + hammer and file at work was heard in the smithy. + </p> + <p> + What do a few sleepless nights matter now? And they are sleepless not so + much from anxiety—for this time things go well—as because of + dreams. And both of them dream. They have bought back Loreng, and they + wander about through the great light rooms once more, and all is peace and + happiness. All the evil days before are as a nightmare that is past. Once + more they will be young, go out on ski together, and dine together after, + and drink champagne, and look at each other with love in their eyes. Once + more—and many times again. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Merle.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Peer, and sleep well.” + </p> + <p> + Day after day the hammering went on in the smithy. + </p> + <p> + A few years back he could have finished the whole business in a couple of + days. But now, half an hour’s work was enough to tire him out. It is + exhausting work to concentrate your thoughts upon a single point, when + your brain has long been used to play idly with stray fancies as they + came. He found, too, that there were defects to be put right in the parts + he thought were complete before, and he had no assistants now, no foundry + to get castings from, he must forge out each piece with his own hands, and + with sorry tools. + </p> + <p> + What did it matter? + </p> + <p> + He began to discipline his brain, denying himself every superfluous + thought. He drew dark curtains across every window in his consciousness, + save one—the machine. After half an hour’s work he would go back to + bed and rest—just close his eyes, and rest. This too was discipline. + Again he flooded all his mind with darkness, darkness, to save his + strength for the half-hour of work next day. + </p> + <p> + Was Merle fearful and anxious? At all events she said no word about the + work that so absorbed him. He was excited enough as it was. And now when + he was irritable and angry with the children, she did not even look at him + reproachfully. They must bear it, both she and the children—it would + soon be all over now. + </p> + <p> + In the clear moonlight nights, when the children were in bed, the two + would sometimes be seen wandering about together. They went with their + arms about each other’s waists, talking loudly, laughing a great deal, and + sometimes singing. People going by on the road would hear the laughter and + singing, and think to themselves: It’s either someone that’s been + drinking, or else that couple from the Court-house. + </p> + <p> + The spring drew on and the days grew lighter. + </p> + <p> + But at the Hamar Agricultural Exhibition, where the machine was tried, an + American competitor was found to be just a little better. Everyone thought + it a queer business; for even if the idea hadn’t been directly stolen from + Peer, there could be no doubt that his machine had suggested it. The + principles adopted were the same in both cases, but in the American + machine there was just enough improvement in carrying them out to make it + doubtful whether it would be any use going to law over the patent rights. + And besides—it’s no light matter for a man with no money at his back + to go to law with a rich American firm. + </p> + <p> + In the mighty race, with competitors the wide world over, to produce the + best machine, Peer had been on the very point of winning. Another man had + climbed upon his chariot, and then, at the last moment, jumped a few feet + ahead, and had thereby won the prize. + </p> + <p> + So that the achievement in itself be good, the world does not inquire too + curiously whether it was honestly achieved. + </p> + <p> + And there is no use starting a joint-stock company to exploit a new + machine when there is a better machine in the field. + </p> + <p> + The steel had seized on Peer, and used him as a springboard. But the + reward was destined for another. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter V + </h2> + <p> + Herr Uthoug Junior, Agent for English tweeds, stepped out of the train one + warm day in July, and stood for a moment on the station platform looking + about him. Magnificent scenery, certainly. And this beautiful valley was + where his sister had been living for more than a year. Splendid air—and + yet somehow it didn’t seem to have done his brother-in-law much good. + Well, well! And the neatly dressed young gentleman set off on foot towards + Raastad, asking his way from time to time. He wanted to take them by + surprise. There had been a family council at Ringeby, and they had agreed + that some definite arrangement must be made for the future of the sister + and her husband, with whom things had gone so hopelessly wrong. + </p> + <p> + As he turned up the by-road that led to the farm, he was aware of a man in + his shirt-sleeves, wheeling a barrow full of stones. What? He thought—could + he be mistaken? No—sure enough it was Peer Holm—Peer Holm, + loading up stones and wheeling them down the hill as zealously as if he + were paid for every step. + </p> + <p> + The Agent was not the man for lamentations or condolences. “Hullo!” he + cried. “Hard at it, aren’t you? You’ve taken to farming, I see.” + </p> + <p> + Peer stood up straight, wiped his hands on his trousers, and came towards + him. “Good heavens! how old he has grown!” thought Uthoug to himself. But + aloud he said, “Well, you do look fit. I’d hardly have known you again.” + </p> + <p> + Merle caught sight of the pair from the kitchen window. “Why, I do believe—” + she exclaimed, and came running out. It was so long since she had seen any + of her people, that she forgot her dignity and in a moment had her arms + round her brother’s neck, hugging him. + </p> + <p> + No, certainly Uthoug junior had not come with lamentations and + condolences. He had a bottle of good wine in his bag, and at supper he + filled the glasses and drank with them both, and talked about theatres and + variety shows, and gave imitations of well-known actors, till he had set + the two poor harassed creatures laughing. They must need a little joy and + laughter—ah! well he knew how they must need it. + </p> + <p> + But he knew, too, that Merle and Peer were on tenterhooks waiting to know + what the family had decided about their future. The days of their life + here had been evil and sad, but they only hoped now that they might be + able to stay on. If the help they had received up to now were taken from + them, they could neither afford to stay here nor to go elsewhere. What + then could they do? No wonder they were anxious as they sat there. + </p> + <p> + After supper he went out for a stroll with Peer, while Merle waited at + home in suspense. She understood that their fate was being settled as she + waited. + </p> + <p> + At last they returned—and to her astonishment they came in laughing. + </p> + <p> + Her brother said good-night, and kissed her on the forehead, and patted + her arm and was kindness itself. She took him up to his room, and would + have liked to sit there a while and talk to him; but she knew Peer had + waited till they were alone to tell her the news that concerned them so + nearly. “Good-night, then, Carsten,” she said to her brother, and went + downstairs. + </p> + <p> + And then at last she and Peer were sitting alone together, at her + work-table by the window. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Merle. + </p> + <p> + “The thing is this, Merle. If we have courage to live at all, we must look + facts in the face as they are.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear, but tell me . . .” + </p> + <p> + “And the facts are that with my health as it now is I cannot possibly get + any employment. It is certain that I cannot. And as that is the case, we + may as well be here as anywhere else.” + </p> + <p> + “But can we stay on here, Peer?” + </p> + <p> + “If you can bear to stay with a miserable bungler like me—that, of + course, is a question.” + </p> + <p> + “Answer me—can we stay here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But it may be years, Merle, before I’m fit to work again—we’ve + got to reckon with that. And to live on charity year after year is what I + cannot and will not endure.” + </p> + <p> + “But what are we to do, then, Peer? There seems to be no possible way for + me to earn any money.” + </p> + <p> + “I can try, at any rate,” he answered, looking out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “You? Oh no, Peer. Even if you could get work as a draughtsman, you know + quite well that your eyes would never stand . . .” + </p> + <p> + “I can do blacksmith’s work,” he said. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. Merle glanced at him involuntarily, as if she could + hardly believe her ears. Could he be in earnest? Was the engineer of the + Nile Barrage to sink into a country blacksmith? + </p> + <p> + She sighed. But she felt she must not dishearten him. And at last she said + with an effort: “It would help to pass the time, I daresay. And perhaps + you would get into the way of sleeping better.” She looked out of the + window with tightly compressed lips. + </p> + <p> + “And if I do that, Merle, we can’t stay on in this house. In fact a great + box of a place like this is too big for us in any case—when you + haven’t even a maid to help you.” + </p> + <p> + “But do you know of any smaller house we could take?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there’s a little place for sale, with a rood or two of ground. If we + had a cow and a pig, Merle—and a few fowls—and could raise a + bushel or two of corn—and if I could earn a few shillings a week in + the smithy—we wouldn’t come on the parish, at any rate. I could + manage the little jobs that I’d get—in fact, pottering about at them + would do me good. What do you say?” + </p> + <p> + Merle did not answer; her eyes were turned away, gazing fixedly out of the + window. + </p> + <p> + “But there’s another question—about you, Merle. Are you willing to + sink along with me into a life like that? I shall be all right. I lived in + just such a place when I was a boy. But you! Honestly, Merle, I don’t + think I should ask it of you.” His voice began to tremble; he pressed his + lips together and his eyes avoided her face. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. “How about the money?” she said, at last. “How will you + buy the place?” + </p> + <p> + “Your brother has promised to arrange about a loan. But I say again, Merle—I + shall not blame you in the least if you would rather go and live with your + aunt at Bruseth. I fancy she’d be glad to have you, and the children too.” + </p> + <p> + Again there was silence for a while. Then she said: “If there are two + decent rooms in the cottage, we could be comfortable enough. And as you + say, it would be easier to look after.” + </p> + <p> + Peer waited a little. There was something in his throat that prevented + speech. He understood now that it was to be taken for granted, without + words, that they should not part company. And it took him a little time to + get over the discovery. + </p> + <p> + Merle sat facing him, but her eyes were turned to the window as before. + She had still the same beautiful dark eyebrows, but her face was faded and + worn, and there were streaks of grey in her hair. + </p> + <p> + At last he spoke again. “And about the children, Merle.” + </p> + <p> + She started. “The children—what about them?” Had it come at last, + the thing she had gone in fear of so long? + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Marit has sent word to ask if we will let your brother take Louise + over to stay with her.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” Merle flung out. “No, Peer. Surely you said no at once. Surely you + wouldn’t let her go. You know what it means, their wanting to have her + over there.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he nodded. “But there’s another question: in Louise’s own + interest, have we any right to say no?” + </p> + <p> + “Peer,” she cried, springing up and wringing her hands, “you mustn’t ask + it of me. You don’t want to do it yourself. Surely we have not come to + that—to begin sending—giving away—no, no, no!” she + moaned. “Do you hear me, Peer? I cannot do it.” + </p> + <p> + “As you please, Merle,” he said, rising, and forcing himself to speak + calmly. “We can think it over, at any rate, till your brother leaves + tomorrow. There are two sides to the thing: one way of it may hurt us now; + the other way may be a very serious matter for Louise, poor thing.” + </p> + <p> + Next morning, when it was time to wake the children, Peer and Merle went + into the nursery together. They stopped by Louise’s bed, and stood looking + down at her. The child had grown a great deal since they came to Raastad; + she lay now with her nose buried in the pillow and the fair hair hiding + her cheek. She slept so soundly and securely. This was home to her still; + she was safer with father and mother than anywhere else in the world. + </p> + <p> + “Louise,” said Merle, shaking her. “Time to get up, dear.” + </p> + <p> + The child sat up, still half asleep, and looked wonderingly at the two + faces. What was it? + </p> + <p> + “Make haste and get dressed,” said Peer. “Fancy! You’re going off with + Uncle Carsten today, to see Aunt Marit at Bruseth. What do you say to + that?” + </p> + <p> + The little girl was wide awake in a moment, and hopped out of bed at once + to begin dressing. But there was something in her parents’ faces which a + little subdued her joy. + </p> + <p> + That morning there was much whispering among the children. The two + youngest looked with wondering eyes at their elder sister, who was going + away. Little Lorentz gave her his horse as a keepsake, and Asta gave her + youngest doll. And Merle went about trying to make believe that Louise was + only going on a short visit, and would soon be coming back. + </p> + <p> + By dinner-time they had packed a little trunk, and Louise, in her best + dress, was rushing about saying goodbye all round the farm, the + harvesters, whom she had helped to drive in the hay, coming in for a + specially affectionate farewell. Her last visit was to Musin, the grey + horse, that was grazing tethered behind the smithy. Musin was busy + cropping the turf, but he just lifted his head and looked at her—she + plucked a handful of grass, and offered it, and when he had disposed of + that, she patted his muzzle, and he let her cling round his neck for a + moment. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be sure to write,” she cried out to no one in particular, as she + went back over the courtyard again. + </p> + <p> + The train moved out of the station, taking with it Uthoug junior and + Louise, each waving from one of the windows of the compartment. + </p> + <p> + And Peer and Merle were left on the platform, holding their two youngest + children by the hand. They could still see a small hand with a white + handkerchief waving from the carriage window. Then the last carriage + disappeared into the cutting, and the smoke and the rumble of the train + were all that was left. + </p> + <p> + The four that were left behind stood still for a little while, but they + seemed to have moved unconsciously closer together than before. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VI + </h2> + <p> + Some way up from the high-road there stands a little one-storeyed house + with three small windows in a row, a cowshed on one side of it and a + smithy on the other. When smoke rises from the smithy, the neighbours say: + “The engineer must be a bit better to-day, since he’s at it in the smithy + again. If there’s anything you want done, you’d better take it to him. He + doesn’t charge any more than Jens up at Lia.” + </p> + <p> + Merle and Peer had been living here a couple of years. Their lives had + gone on together, but there had come to be this difference between them: + Merle still looked constantly at her husband’s face, always hoping that he + would get better, while he himself had no longer any hope. Even when the + thump, thumping in his head was quiet for a time, there was generally some + trouble somewhere to keep him on the rack, only he did not talk about it + any more. He looked at his wife’s face, and thought to himself: “She is + changing more and more; and it is you that are to blame. You have poured + out your own misery on her day and night. It is time now you tried to make + some amends.” So had begun a struggle to keep silence, to endure, if + possible to laugh, even when he could have found it in his heart to weep. + It was difficult enough, especially at first, but each victory gained + brought with it a certain satisfaction which strengthened him to take up + the struggle again. + </p> + <p> + In this way, too, he learned to look on his fate more calmly. His humour + grew lighter; it was as if he drew himself up and looked misfortune in the + eyes, saying: “Yes, I know I am defenceless, and you can plunge me deeper + and deeper yet; but for all that, if I choose to laugh you cannot hinder + me.” + </p> + <p> + How much easier all things seemed, now that he looked no longer for any + good to come to him, and urged no claims against anyone either in heaven + or on earth. But when he was tired out with his work at the forge, there + was a satisfaction in saying to his wife: “No, Merle, didn’t I tell you I + wouldn’t have you carrying the water up? Give me the bucket.” “You?—you + look fit for it, don’t you?” “Hang it all, am I a man, or am I not? Get + back to your kitchen—that’s the place for a woman.” So he carried + water, and his mood was the brighter for it, though he might feel at times + as if his back were breaking. And sometimes, “I’m feeling lazy, to-day, + Merle,” he would say. “If you don’t mind I’ll stay in bed a bit longer.” + And she understood. She knew from experience that these were the days when + his nightmare headache was upon him, and that it was to spare her he + called it laziness. + </p> + <p> + They had a cow now, and a pig and some fowls. It was not exactly on the + same scale as at Loreng, but it had the advantage that he could manage it + all himself. Last year they had raised so many potatoes that they had been + able to sell a few bushels. They did not buy eggs any more—they sold + them. Peer carried them down himself to the local dealer, sold them at + market price, and bought things they might need with the money. Why not? + Merle did not think it beneath her to wash and scrub and do the cooking. + True enough, things had been different with them once, but it was only + Merle now who ever had moments of dreaming that the old days might come + back. Otherwise, for both him and her it was as if they had been washed + ashore on a barren coast, and must try to live through the grey days as + best they could. + </p> + <p> + It would happen once in a while that a mowing machine of the new American + type would be sent in by some farmer to the smithy for repairs. When this + happened, Peer would shut his lips close, with a queer expression, look at + the machine for a moment, and swallow something in his throat. The man who + had stolen this thing from him and bettered it by a hairsbreadth was + doubtless a millionaire by now on the strength of it. + </p> + <p> + It cost him something of an effort to take these repairs in hand, but he + bowed his head and set to. Merle, poor girl, needed a pair of shoes. + </p> + <p> + At times, too, he would turn from the anvil and the darkness within and + come out into the doorway for a breath of air; and here he would look out + upon the day—the great broad empty day. + </p> + <p> + A man with a sledge-hammer in his hands instinctively looks up at the + heavens. He has inherited that instinct from his great ancestor, who + brought down fire and thought to men, and taught them to rebel against + God. + </p> + <p> + Peer looked at the sky, and at the clouds, sweeping across it in a + meaningless turmoil. Rebellion against someone up there? But heaven is + empty. There is no one to rebel against. + </p> + <p> + But then all the injustice, the manifold iniquity! Who is to sit in + judgment on it at the great day? + </p> + <p> + Who? No one. + </p> + <p> + What? Think of the millions of all kinds of martyrs, who died under the + bloodiest torments, yet innocent as babes at the breast—is there to + be no day of reparation for them? + </p> + <p> + None. + </p> + <p> + But there must be a whole world-full of victims of injustice, whose souls + flit restlessly around, because they died under a weight of undeserved + shame—because they lost a battle in which the right was theirs—because + they suffered and strove for truth, but went down because falsehood was + the stronger. Truth? Right? Is there no one, then, who will one day give + peace to the dead in their graves and set things in their right places? Is + there no one? + </p> + <p> + No one. + </p> + <p> + The world rolls on its way. Fate is blind, and God smiles while Satan + works his will upon Job. + </p> + <p> + Hold your peace and grip your sledge-hammer, idiot. If ever your + conscience should embrace the universe, that day the horror of it would + strike you dead. Remember that you are a vertebrate animal, and it is by + mistake that you have developed a soul. + </p> + <p> + Cling, clang. The red sparks fly from the anvil. Live out your life as it + is. + </p> + <p> + But there began to dawn in him a strange longing to be united to all those + unfortunates whom fate had blindly crushed; to gather them together, not + to a common lamentation, but to a common victory. Not for vengeance, but + for a song of praise. Behold, Thou eternal Omnipotence, how we requite Thy + cruelty—we praise life: see how much more godlike we are than Thou. + </p> + <p> + A temple, a temple for the modern spirit of man, hungry for eternity—not + for the babbling of prayers, but for a hymn from man’s munificent heart + sent pealing up to heaven. Will it come—will it one day be built? + </p> + <p> + One evening Peer came home from the post-office apparently in high + spirits. “Hi, Merle, I’ve got a letter from the Bruseth lady.” + </p> + <p> + Merle glanced at Lorentz, who had instinctively come close to her, and was + looking at his father. + </p> + <p> + “From Bruseth? How is Louise getting on?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “You can see for yourself. Here’s the letter,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Merle read it through hurriedly, and glanced at Lorentz once more. + </p> + <p> + That evening, after the children had gone to bed, the father and mother + sat up talking together in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + And Merle had to admit that her husband was right. It would be selfish of + them to keep the boy here, when he might be heir to Bruseth some day if + they let him go. + </p> + <p> + Suppose he stayed and worked here under his father and learned to be a + smith? The blacksmith’s day is over—factories do all the work now. + </p> + <p> + And what schooling could he get away here in the country? Aunt Marit + offered to send him to a good school.—And so the die was cast for + him too. + </p> + <p> + But when they went with the boy to see him off at the station, the + mother’s handkerchief was at her eyes all the time, do what she would. + </p> + <p> + And when they came home she had to lie down in bed, while Peer went about + the place, humming to himself, while he got ready a little supper and + brought it to her bedside. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t understand how you can take it so easily,” she burst out. + </p> + <p> + “No—no,” he laughed a little oddly. “The less said about that the + better, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + But the next day it was Peer who said he felt lazy again and would lie + still a bit. Merle looked at him and stroked his forehead. + </p> + <p> + And the time went on. They worked hard and constantly to make both ends + meet without help, and they were content to take things as they came. When + the big dairy was started close by, he made a good deal of money setting + up the plant, but he was not above sharpening a drill for the road-gangs + either. He was often to be seen going down to the country store in a + sleeved waistcoat with a knapsack on his back. He carried his head high, + the close-trimmed beard was shading over into white, his face often had + the strained look that comes from sleeplessness, but his step was light, + and he still had a joke for the girls whom he met. + </p> + <p> + In summer, the neighbours would often see them shutting up the house and + starting off up the hill with knapsack and coffee-kettle and with little + Asta trotting between them. They were gone, it might be, to try and + recapture some memory of old days, with coffee in the open air by a picnic + fire. + </p> + <p> + In the autumn, when the great fields yellowed all the hillsides, Peer and + Merle had a little plot of their own that showed golden too. The + dimensions of things had shrunk not a little for these two. A bushel of + corn was much to them now. It hit them hard if their potato-patch yielded + a couple of measures less than they had reckoned on. But the housewives + from the farms near by would often look in on Merle to see how bright and + clean she kept her little house; and now that she had no one to help her, + she found time herself to teach the peasant girls something of cooking and + sewing. + </p> + <p> + But one habit had grown upon her. She would stand long and long by the + window looking down the valley to where the hills closed it in. It was as + if she were looking constantly for something to come in sight, something + that should bring them better days. It was a kind of Sunday for her to + stand there and look and wait. + </p> + <p> + And the time went on. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VII + </h2> + <p> + DEAR KLAUS BROCK, + </p> + <p> + I write to tell you of what has lately happened to us here, chiefly in the + hope that it may be some comfort to yourself. For I have discovered, dear + friend, that this world-sorrow of ours is something a man can get over, if + only he will learn to see with his own eyes and not with those of others. + </p> + <p> + Most men would say things have steadily gone from bad to worse with me, + and certainly I shall not pretend to feel any love for suffering in + itself. On the contrary, it hurts. It does not ennoble. It rather + brutalises, unless it becomes so great that it embraces all things. I was + once Engineer in charge at the First Cataract—now I am a blacksmith + in a country parish. And that hurts. I am cut off from reading because of + my eyes, and from intercourse with people whose society would be a + pleasure because there are no such people here. All this hurts, even when + you’ve grown used to it—a good thing in itself it is not. Many times + I have thought that we must have reached the very bottom of the inclined + plane of adversity, but always it proved to be only a break. The deepest + deep was still to come. You work on even when your head feels like to + split; you save up every pin, every match; and yet the bread you eat often + tastes of charity. That hurts. You give up hoping that things may be + better some day; you give up all hope, all dreams, all faith, all + illusions—surely you have come to the end of all things. But no; the + very roots of one’s being are still left; the most precious thing of all + is still left. What can that be, you ask? + </p> + <p> + That is what I was going to tell you. + </p> + <p> + The thing that happened came just when things were beginning to look a + little brighter for us. For some time past my head had been less + troublesome, and I had got to work on a new harrow—steel again; it + never lets one rest—and you know what endless possibilities a man + sees in a thing like that. Merle was working with fresh courage. What do + you think of a wife like that? taking up the cross of her own free will, + to go on sharing the life of a ruined man? I hope you may meet a woman of + her sort one day. True, her hair is growing grey, and her face lined. Her + figure is not so straight as once it was; her hands are red and broken. + And yet all this has a soul of its own, a beauty of its own, in my eyes, + because I know that each wrinkle is a mark left by the time when some new + trouble came upon us, and found us together. Then one day she smiles, and + her smile has grown strained and full of sadness, but again it brings back + to me times when both heaven and earth breathed cold upon us and we drew + closer to each other for warmth. Our happiness and our sufferings have + moulded her into what she now is. The world may think perhaps that she is + growing old; to me she is only more beautiful than before. + </p> + <p> + And now I am coming to what I was going to tell you. You will understand + that it was not easy to send away the two children, and it doesn’t make + things better to get letters from them constantly begging us to let them + come home again. But we had still one little girl left, little Asta, who + was just five. I wish you could have seen her. If you were a father and + your tortured nerves had often made you harsh and unreasonable with the + two elder ones, you would try—would you not?—to make it up in + loving-kindness to the one that was left. Asta—isn’t it pretty? + Imagine a sunburnt little being with black hair, and her mother’s + beautiful eyebrows, always busy with her dolls, or fetching in wood, or + baking little cakes of her own for father when mother’s baking bread for + us all, chattering to the birds on the roof, or singing now and then, just + because some stray note of music has come into her head. When mother is + busy scrubbing the floor, little Asta must needs get hold of a wet rag + behind her back and slop away at a chair, until she has got herself in a + terrible mess, and then she gets smacked, and screams for a moment, but + soon runs out and sings herself happy again. When you’re at work in the + smithy, there comes a sound of little feet, and “Father, come to dinner”; + and a little hand takes hold of you and leads you to the door. “Are you + going to bath me to-night, father?” Or “Here’s your napkin, father.” And + though there might be only potatoes and milk for dinner, she would eat as + if she were seated at the grandest banquet. “Aren’t potatoes and milk your + favourite dish, father?” And she makes faces at you in the eagerness of + her questionings. At night she slept in a box at the foot of our bed, and + when I was lying sleepless, it would often happen that her light, peaceful + breathing filled me too with peace; and it was as if her little hand took + mine and led me on to sleep itself, to beautiful, divine sleep. + </p> + <p> + And now, as I come to the thing that happened, I find it a little hard to + write—my hand begins to tremble. But my hope is that there may be + some comfort in it for you too, as there has proved to be for Merle and me + in the end. + </p> + <p> + Our next neighbours here were a brazier and his wife—poor folks, + like ourselves. Soon after we first came I went over to have a talk with + him. I found him a poor wizened little creature, pottering about with his + acids, and making a living as best as he could, soldering and tinning + kettles and pans. “What do you want?” he asked, looking askance at me; and + as I went out, I heard him bolt the door behind me. Alas! he was afraid—afraid + that I was come to snatch his daily bread from him. His wife was a + big-boned fleshy lump of a woman, insolent enough in her ways, though she + had just been in prison for criminal abetment in the case of a girl that + had got into trouble. + </p> + <p> + One Sunday morning I was standing looking at some apple trees in bloom in + his garden. One of them grew so close to the fence that the branches hung + over on my side, and I bent one down to smell the blossom. Then suddenly I + heard a cry: “Hi, Tiger! catch him!” and the brazier’s great wolf-dog came + bounding down, ready to fly at my throat. I was lucky enough to get hold + of its collar before it could do me any harm, and I dragged it up to its + owner, and told him that if anything of the sort happened again I’d have + the sheriff’s officer after him. Then the music began. He fairly let + himself go and told me what he thought of me. “You hold your jaw, you + cursed pauper, coming here taking the bread out of honest working people’s + mouths,” and so on. He hissed it out, flourishing his arms about, and at + last it seemed to me he was fumbling about for a knife or something to + throw at my head. I couldn’t help laughing. It was a scene in the grand + style between two Great Powers in the world-competition. + </p> + <p> + A couple of days later I was standing at the forge, when I heard a shriek + from my wife. I rushed out—what could be the matter? Merle was down + by the fence already, and all at once I saw what it was—there was + Asta, lying on the ground under the body of a great beast. + </p> + <p> + And then—Well, Merle tells me it was I that tore the thing away from + the little bundle of clothes beneath it, and carried our little girl home. + </p> + <p> + A doctor is often a good refuge in trouble, but though he may sew up a + ragged tear in a child’s throat ever so neatly, it doesn’t necessarily + follow that it will help much. + </p> + <p> + There was a mother, though, that would not let him go—that cried and + prayed and clung about him, begging him to try once more if nothing could + be done. And when at last he was gone, she was always for going after him + again, and grovelled on the floor and tore her hair—could not, would + not, believe what she knew was true. + </p> + <p> + And that night a father and mother sat up together, staring strangely in + front of them. The mother was quiet now. The child was laid out, decked + and ready. The father sat by the window, looking out. It was in May, and + the night was grey. + </p> + <p> + Now it was that I began to realise how every great sorrow leads us farther + and farther out on the promontory of existence. I had come to the + outermost point now—there was no more. + </p> + <p> + And I discovered too, dear friend, that these many years of adversity had + shaped me not in one but in various moulds, for I had in me the stuff for + several quite distinct persons, and now the work was done, and they could + break free from my being and go their several ways. + </p> + <p> + I saw a man rush out into the night, shaking his fist at heaven and earth; + a madman who refused to play his part in the farce any more, and so rushed + down towards the river. + </p> + <p> + But I myself sat there still. + </p> + <p> + And I saw another, a puny creature, let loose; a humble, ashen-grey + ascetic, that bent his head and bowed under the lash, and said: “Thy will + be done. The Lord gave, the Lord hath taken away—” A pitiful being + this, that stole out into the night and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + But I myself sat there still. + </p> + <p> + I sat alone on the promontory of existence, with the sun and the stars + gone out, and ice-cold emptiness above me, about me, and in me, on every + side. + </p> + <p> + But then, my friend, by degrees it dawned on me that there was still + something left. There was one little indomitable spark in me, that began + to glow all by itself—it was as if I were lifted back to the first + day of existence, and an eternal will rose up in me, and said: Let there + be light! + </p> + <p> + This will it was that by and by grew and grew in me, and made me strong. + </p> + <p> + I began to feel an unspeakable compassion for all men upon earth, and yet + in the last resort I was proud that I was one of them. + </p> + <p> + I understood how blind fate can strip and plunder us of all, and yet + something will remain in us at the last, that nothing in heaven or earth + can vanquish. Our bodies are doomed to die, and our spirit to be + extinguished, yet still we bear within us the spark, the germ of an + eternity of harmony and light both for the world and for God. + </p> + <p> + And I knew now that what I had hungered after in my best years was neither + knowledge, nor honour, nor riches; nor to be a priest or a great creator + in steel; no, friend, but to build temples; not chapels for prayers or + churches for wailing penitent sinners, but a temple for the human spirit + in its grandeur, where we could lift up our souls in an anthem as a gift + to heaven. + </p> + <p> + I could never do this now. Perhaps there was nothing that I could do any + more. And yet it seemed to me as I sat there that I had conquered. + </p> + <p> + What happened then? Well, there had been a terrible drought all that + spring—it is often so in this valley. The eternal north wind sent + the dry mould sweeping in clouds over the whole countryside, and we were + threatened with one of our worst years of scarcity if the rain didn’t + come. + </p> + <p> + At last people ventured to sow their corn, but then the frosts set in, and + snow and sleet, and the seed froze in the earth. My neighbour the brazier + had his patch of ground sown with barley—but now he would have to + sow it again, and where was he to get the seed? He went from farm to farm + begging for some, but people hated the sight of him after what had + happened about Asta—no one would lend him any, and he had no money + to buy. The boys on the roads hooted after him, and some of the neighbours + talked of driving him out of the parish. + </p> + <p> + I wasn’t able to sleep much the next night either, and when the clock + struck two I got up. “Where are you going?” asked Merle. “I want to see if + we haven’t a half-bushel of barley left,” I said. “Barley—what do + you want with barley in the middle of the night?” “I want to sow the + brazier’s plot with it,” I said, “and it’s best to do it now, so that + nobody will know it was me.” + </p> + <p> + She sat up and stared at me. “What? His—the—the brazier’s?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said I. “It won’t do us any good, you know, to see his bit of field + lying bare all summer.” + </p> + <p> + “Peer—where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve told you,” said I, and went out. But I knew that she was dressing + and meant to come too. + </p> + <p> + It had rained during the night, and as I came out the air was soft and + easy to breathe. The morning still lay in a grey half-light with yellow + gleams from the wind-clouds to the north. The scent of the budding birches + was in the air, the magpies and starlings were up and about, but not a + human soul was to be seen; the farms were asleep, the whole countryside + was asleep. + </p> + <p> + I took the grain in a basket, climbed over the neighbour’s fence and began + to sow. No sign of life in the house; the sheriff’s officer had come over + and shot the dog the day before; no doubt the brazier and his wife were + lying sleeping, dreaming maybe of enemies all around, trying their best to + do them harm. + </p> + <p> + Dear friend, is there any need to tell the rest? Just think, though, how + one man may give away a kingdom, and it costs him nothing, and another may + give up a few handfuls of corn, and it means to him not only all that he + has, but a world of struggle and passion before he can bring his soul to + make that gift. Do you think that is nothing? As for me—I did not do + this for Christ’s sake, or because I loved my enemy; but because, standing + upon the ruins of my life, I felt a vast responsibility. Mankind must + arise, and be better than the blind powers that order its ways; in the + midst of its sorrows it must take heed that the god-like does not die. The + spark of eternity was once more aglow in me, and said: Let there be light. + </p> + <p> + And more and more it came home to me that it is man himself that must + create the divine in heaven and on earth—that that is his triumph + over the dead omnipotence of the universe. Therefore I went out and sowed + the corn in my enemy’s field, that God might exist. + </p> + <p> + Ah, if you had known that moment! It was as if the air about me grew alive + with voices. It was as though all the unfortunates I had seen and known + were bearing me company; more and more they came; the dead too were joined + to us, an army from times past and long ago. Sister Louise was there, she + played her hymn, and drew the voices all together into a choir, the choir + of the living and the dead, the choir of all mankind. See, here are we + all, your sisters and brothers. Your fate is ours. We are flung by the + indifferent law of the universe into a life that we cannot order as we + would; we are ravaged by injustice, by sickness and sorrow, by fire and + blood. Even the happiest must die. In his own home he is but on a visit. + He never knows but that he may be gone tomorrow. And yet man smiles and + laughs in the face of his tragic fate. In the midst of his thraldom he has + created the beautiful on earth; in the midst of his torments he has had so + much surplus energy of soul that he has sent it radiating forth into the + cold deeps of space and warmed them with God. + </p> + <p> + So marvellous art thou, O spirit of man! So godlike in thy very nature! + Thou dost reap death, and in return thou sowest the dream of everlasting + life. In revenge for thine evil fate thou dost fill the universe with an + all-loving God. + </p> + <p> + We bore our part in his creation, all we who now are dust; we who sank + down into the dark like flames gone out;—we wept, we exulted, we + felt the ecstasy and the agony, but each of us brought our ray to the + mighty sea of light, each of us, from the negro setting up the first mark + above the grave of his dead to the genius raising the pillars of a temple + towards heaven. We bore our part, from the poor mother praying beside a + cradle, to the hosts that lifted their songs of praise high up into + boundless space. + </p> + <p> + Honour to thee, O spirit of man. Thou givest a soul to the world, thou + settest it a goal, thou art the hymn that lifts it into harmony; therefore + turn back into thyself, lift high thy head and meet proudly the evil that + comes to thee. Adversity can crush thee, death can blot thee out, yet art + thou still unconquerable and eternal. + </p> + <p> + Dear friend, it was thus I felt. And when the corn was sown, and I went + back, the sun was glancing over the shoulder of the hill. There by the + fence stood Merle, looking at me. She had drawn a kerchief forward over + her brow, after the fashion of the peasant women, so that her face was in + shadow; but she smiled to me—as if she, too, the stricken mother, + had risen up from the ocean of her suffering that here, in the daybreak, + she might take her share in the creating of God. . . . + </p> + <p> + TRANSLATOR’S NOTE PRONUNCIATION OF PROPER NAMES + </p> + <p> + For the convenience of readers a few points in which Norwegian + pronunciation differs from English are noted below: + </p> + <p> + The vowels a, e, and i in the middle of words are pronounced much as in + Italian. + </p> + <p> + aa = long o, as in “post” or “pole.” + </p> + <p> + e final is sounded, as in German; thus Louise, Merle, etc. + </p> + <p> + d final is nearly always elided; thus Raastad = Rosta’. + </p> + <p> + g before e or i is hard; thus Ringeby, not Rinjeby. + </p> + <p> + j = the English y; thus Bojer = Boyer, Jens = Yens. + </p> + <p> + l before another consonant is sounded; thus Holm, not Home. + </p> + <p> + CURRENCY + </p> + <p> + The unit of currency in Norway is the crown (krone), which in normal + conditions is worth something over thirteen pence, so that about eighteen + crowns go to the pound sterling. Thus Peer Holm’s fortune in the Savings + Bank represented about L100 in English money, and a million crowns is + equivalent to about $260,000 in American money. + </p> + <p> + To avoid encumbering the reader unnecessarily with the details of + Norwegian currency, small amounts have been represented in this + translation by their equivalents in English money. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Great Hunger, by Johan Bojer + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREAT HUNGER *** + +***** This file should be named 2943-h.htm or 2943-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/4/2943/ + +Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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