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diff --git a/35918-h/35918-h.htm b/35918-h/35918-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e66496 --- /dev/null +++ b/35918-h/35918-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13924 @@ +<!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" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title>Dry Fish and Wet, by Elias Kræmmer; an eBook from Project Gutenberg</title> + <style type="text/css"> + /* <![CDATA[ */ +body { + margin: auto 10%; +} +.nomarg { margin: auto -12.5%; } + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} +h2 { line-height: 120%; } + +p { + margin: .75em auto; + text-align: justify; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin: 2em auto; + clear: both; +} + +ul { margin-left: 0; padding-left: 0; } +.inline li { display: inline; padding-left: 2em; padding-right: 2em; } + +.pagenum { + /*visibility: hidden;*/ + color: #999; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-variant: normal; + font-weight: normal; + text-transform: none; + text-decoration: none; + letter-spacing: normal; +} /* page numbers */ +a[title].pagenum:after { content: attr(title); } + +.blockquot { + margin: auto 8%; +} +.bqheading { + text-align: center; +} + +em { + font-style: italic; + font-weight: normal; + text-decoration: none; + font-variant: normal; +} + +.center, .center p { text-align: center; } +.smcap { font-variant: small-caps; } +.italic { font-style: italic; } +.caps { text-transform: uppercase; } +.smaller { font-size: 85%; } +.larger { font-size: 115%; } +.spacewords{ word-spacing: 10em; } + +.b0 { margin-bottom: 0; padding-bottom: 0; } +.b0 + p, .b0 + div { margin-top: 0; padding-top: 0.2em; } + +.sig { text-align: right; padding-right: 3em; } +.sigblockfloat { float: right; padding-right: 4em; } +.sigfloat { float: left; padding-left: 4em; } +.l2 { padding-left: 2em; } +.size250 { font-size: 250%; } +.size150 { font-size: 150%; } + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnote { margin: auto 10%; font-size: .9em; } +.footnote .label { position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right; } + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: top; + font-size: 70%; + text-decoration: none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { margin: auto 10%; text-align: left; } +.poem br { display: none; } +.poem .stanza { margin: 1em 0em; } +.poem span.i0, .poem span.i1 { display: block; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em; } +.poem span.i0 { margin-left: 1em; } +.poem span.i1 { margin-left: 2em; } +.poem span.iminus { margin-left: 0.5em; } +.poem span.iminus2 { margin-left: 0.25em; } + +/***/ + +.trnote { + font-family: sans-serif; + font-size: 90%; + background-color: #ccc; + color: #000; + border: black 1px dotted; + margin: 2em 15%; + padding: 1em; +} +.trnote ul li { list-style-type: none; } + +.toc { margin: 0 25% auto 25%; } +p.toc { font-size: 60%; margin-bottom: 0; padding-bottom: 0; } +.toc li { padding: 0 2em 0 0; list-style-type: upper-roman; } +.toc .num { position: absolute; right: 30%; top: auto; } + +.topmarg { margin-top: 2em; } + +.w65 { width: 65%; } +hr.chapbreak, .w45 { width: 45%; } +hr.tb { width: 25%; } +hr.chapbreak { margin-bottom: 4em; } + +a.corr { /*border-bottom: 1px dotted #333;*/ } + + /* ]]> */ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Dry Fish and Wet, by +Anthon Bernhard Elias Nilsen + +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: Dry Fish and Wet + Tales from a Norwegian Seaport + +Author: Anthon Bernhard Elias Nilsen + +Translator: W. Worster + +Release Date: April 22, 2011 [EBook #35918] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DRY FISH AND WET *** + + + + +Produced by Bryan Ness and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="trnote"> +<h2>Transcriber's note</h2> +<p>Obvious typographer's errors have been corrected, but the author's +spelling has otherwise been retained. A <a href="#trcorrections">list +of word corrections</a> can be found after the book.</p> +</div> + + + +<h1 class="topmarg caps">Dry Fish and Wet</h1> + +<hr class="w45" /> + +<p class="center italic">Translated from the Norwegian<br /> +by <span class="smcap">W. Worster</span>, M.A.</p> + +<hr class="w65" /> + + +<p class="center caps size250">Dry Fish and Wet</p> + + +<p class="center size150">Tales from a Norwegian Seaport</p> + +<p class="center">BY<br /> +<span class="size150">ELIAS KRÆMMER</span></p> + +<p class="center">GYLDENDAL<br /> +<span class="smaller">11 HANOVER SQUARE, LONDON, W. 1<br /> +COPENHAGEN · CHRISTIANIA<br /> +1922</span></p> + + +<hr class="w65" /> + +<h2 class="caps">Contents</h2> + +<p class="toc"> <span class="num caps">Page</span></p> +<ol class="toc"> +<li><a href="#I" class="smcap">The Town</a> <span class="num">1</span></li> +<li><a href="#II" class="smcap">Knut G. Holm</a> <span class="num">4</span></li> +<li><a href="#III" class="smcap">Bramsen</a> <span class="num">25</span></li> +<li><a href="#IV" class="smcap">Hermansen of the Bank</a> <span class="num">36</span></li> +<li><a href="#V" class="smcap">Mrs. Rantzau's Story</a> <span class="num">56</span></li> +<li><a href="#VI" class="smcap">"Rebecca and the Camels"</a> <span class="num">73</span></li> +<li><a href="#VII" class="smcap">Holm & Son</a> <span class="num">86</span></li> +<li><a href="#VIII" class="smcap">Malla Trap</a> <span class="num">101</span></li> +<li><a href="#IX" class="smcap">Clapham Junction</a> <span class="num">115</span></li> +<li><a href="#X" class="smcap">The Ship comes Home</a> <span class="num">131</span></li> +<li><a href="#XI" class="smcap">The Concert</a> <span class="num">136</span></li> +<li><a href="#XII" class="smcap">Old Nick</a> <span class="num">141</span></li> +<li><a href="#XIII" class="smcap">Cilia</a> <span class="num">160</span></li> +<li><a href="#XIV" class="smcap">A Royal Visit</a> <span class="num">189</span></li> +<li><a href="#XV" class="smcap">Peter Oiland</a> <span class="num">200</span></li> +<li><a href="#XVI" class="smcap">Emilie Rantzau</a> <span class="num">213</span></li> +<li><a href="#XVII" class="smcap">The <i>Eva Maria</i></a> <span class="num">239</span></li> +<li><a href="#XVIII" class="smcap">The <i>Henrik Ibsen</i></a> <span class="num">250</span></li> +<li><a href="#XIX" class="smcap">Nils Petter's Legacy</a> <span class="num">265</span></li> +<li><a href="#XX" class="smcap">The Admiral</a> <span class="num">277</span></li> +<li><a href="#XXI" class="smcap">Dirrik</a> <span class="num">311</span></li> +</ol> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_1" id="Page_1" title="[Pg 1]"></a></p> +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I<br /> +THE TOWN</h2> + + +<p>The last census showed a population of 19,991 +inhabitants, but if anyone asked "Holm at +the Corner" how big the place was, he would +say "between twenty and thirty thousand"—a figure +he considered reasonable enough, counting the annual +increment in the families he knew.</p> + +<p>The town had its own traditions. Natives could +speak with pride of the days, now long passed, when +the firms of C. B. Taline and Veuve Erik Strom had +great cargoes of coffee coming direct from Rio, while +Danish vessels by the dozen lay alongside the warehouses +discharging corn, and unwieldy Dutchmen +took in baulks large enough to cut up into arm-chair +sections—ay, there was proper timber in those days, +not like the thin weedy sticks that come down the +river now!</p> + +<p>And the place had other memories, apart from trade +and commerce. There was a whole gallery of clerics +whose brilliant names cast a glow of distinction long +after they themselves were dead and gone; old men<a class="pagenum" name="Page_2" id="Page_2" title="[Pg 2]"></a> +remembered them, and the town could feel itself, as +it were, related to episcopal sees all over the country. +Great trading houses of old standing came to ruin, +fortunes were shattered, and crisis after crisis came +and went, but every such period merely added a fresh +chapter to the history of the town, making new stories +for fathers to tell their sons. In course of time, a +whole collection of such stories had grown up about +these merchant princes, for trade was, after all, the +chief interest of the place and so remained. When +the old men got together, talk would invariably turn +upon such matters as Nils Berg's grand speculations in +the Crimean War, or the disastrous failure of Balle & +Co.; while the younger ones, who were in the swim, +enlisted further shareholders in their factories and +ship-owning concerns. It was a town with plenty of +grit in it, no lack of young stock to carry on the work.</p> + +<p>True, there were times when it seemed to languish, +to be dwindling away, when periods of crisis had swept +away what appeared to be its chief support; but a +breathing space was all that was needed, and soon the +old spirit was awake once more, and life went on as +bravely as before.</p> + +<p>And so it went on for generation after generation, +while the river flowed, broad and smooth as ever, down +the valley, pouring its ice-water into the fjord each +spring. Up the hillsides on either hand the roads +turned up and curved among thicket and bush, and +the higher one climbed the clearer showed the town +below with its rows of houses and its churches.</p> + +<p>Those who were born in the town and had spent +their youth there, but whom fate had later moved to +other parts of the country, made it a practice, when<a class="pagenum" name="Page_3" id="Page_3" title="[Pg 3]"></a> +they came home, to climb the hillside and look out +over the town, as it lay there rich in memories. And +the longer one had been away, the stronger they +seemed to grow; for there is a strange power in such +memories of a little, old town.</p> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_4" id="Page_4" title="[Pg 4]"></a></p> +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II<br /> +KNUT G. HOLM</h2> + + +<p>Knut G. Holm had had his ups and downs; +no one knew exactly how he stood. Failure +and crisis had raged about him, and many +a time public opinion had given him but a short while +to keep above water himself, but he always managed +to get through somehow, though there were times +when he had not credit for five shillings, when the +commercial travellers gave his corner premises the +stealthy go-by, in the confident belief that he would +put his shutters up next day. But he never did. And +at last it grew to a proverb, that Knut G. Holm was +like a cat; you might throw him out of a top-floor +window, but he would always land on his feet in the +end!</p> + +<p>In the little office behind the shop there was always +a little gathering before dinner-time, between one and +two, to hear Holm holding forth; for he was a man +with an unusual gift of speech, and whatever might +happen in the place, he was always the first to get +hold of it.</p> + +<p>Dealer Vagle was a fool to pay £1600 for that dairy +farm—Knut Holm had no hesitation in saying as +much; nor was he afraid to make public his opinion +that Jorgensen the hatter was not such a fool as he<a class="pagenum" name="Page_5" id="Page_5" title="[Pg 5]"></a> +looked in selling the property referred to. Everyone +knew Holm's "gossip-shop," as the office was generally +called, but no one took offence at his extravagant +talk, for all knew he meant no harm, but was really +one of the kindliest of men.</p> + +<p>He was always terribly busy, for he had a hand in +everything, from the Silicate Products Company, of +which he was a director, to the machine shops, of which +he was chairman, and which paid a steady 20 per cent. +per annum.</p> + +<p>Knut Holm was no longer a youth, he was nearing +fifty-seven; but to judge from his fair-haired, rotund +figure as one met him in the street, always with his +coat unbuttoned and his silk hat at a rakish angle, +one would have set him down as ten years younger.</p> + +<p>There was a peculiar briskness in his gait as he walked +up the street in business hours, stopping to speak +with every soul he met, and yet with such haste that +the person last addressed would generally be left staring +open-mouthed, without having had the chance of +uttering a syllable.</p> + +<p>Holm had long been thinking of getting in a lady +clerk, a reliable person who could look after the office +and keep the books up to date. Peder Clasen and +Garner had both been with him for many years, but +both felt more at home outside in the shop, and +never troubled about bookkeeping more than strictly +necessary, and hardly that, with the result that the +books were generally half a year behind. Nothing +had come of the lady-clerk idea, however, until one +day Dr. Blok looked in and asked if Holm could find +any use for a young lady he knew, and could safely +recommend, a Miss Betty Rantzau. Her mother<a class="pagenum" name="Page_6" id="Page_6" title="[Pg 6]"></a> +taught singing; had come to the town some six months +before; and the daughter was a willing and well-educated +girl; it would be a good action to find her +something to do. Clasen and Garner, not to speak of +Holm himself, awaited her arrival with considerable +interest. She was tall and slender, with a wealth of +fair hair, and pretty teeth that showed when she +smiled. She offered her hand with frank kindliness +to Clasen as she came in. "So we are to work together," +she said. "Very kind of you, I'm sure," +stammered Clasen in confusion. "Mr. Holm is in +the office; will you please to go in?"</p> + +<p>Soon after, she was duly installed on the high stool +in the office, with Holm himself sitting opposite, at +the other side of the desk. She managed the old daybook +with surprising ease; Holm glanced at her from +time to time as she worked. He found it difficult to +open conversation; it was queer to have a woman +about the place like this, and at such close quarters. +He felt himself obliged to be a little careful of his words,—a +thing he was altogether unaccustomed to in the +office.</p> + +<p>Next day, the usual meeting in the "gossip-shop" +was of unusually brief duration, for as Vindt, the +stockbroker, declared when he came out, "Damme, +but it's spoiled the whole thing, having a blessed woman +in there listening to every word you say." Whereto +Holm replied that it was "sort of comfortable to have +a pleasant young face to look at, instead of a wrinkled +old pumpkin like yours, Vindt!" Vindt growled, +and took his departure hastily.</p> + +<p>And it was not many days before Holm was chatting +away easily to Betty, as she worked at her books,<a class="pagenum" name="Page_7" id="Page_7" title="[Pg 7]"></a> +pretending to listen attentively the while to all his +stories.</p> + +<p>"I'm not disturbing you, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, Mr. Holm. It's very nice of you, +I'm sure, to talk to me." She slipped down from her +chair, and stroked the back of the big ledger with her +slender white hands.</p> + +<p>"I've walked a deuce of a way to-day"—he sat +down on the sofa and wiped his forehead—"went +right out to the cemetery, to lay a wreath on C. H. +Pettersen and Company's grave. You've heard of C. +Henrik Pettersen, I dare say? Grocery and provision +stores over the square there; had it for years and +years. First-rate man he was; my best friend."</p> + +<p>"Good friends are very precious, Mr. Holm."</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, they are, mostly. And C. H. Pettersen +and Co. was an uncommon firm, I must say, both for +quality and weight. I know there were some mischief-making +folk used to say he sold margarine as dairy +butter, but that was just pure malice, for the quality +was so good I'll swear they couldn't tell the difference. +And when they're both alike, what does it matter what +you call them?"</p> + +<p>"Has he been dead long?"</p> + +<p>"Eleven years it is to-day since he handed in his +final balance-sheet; I go out every year to lay a wreath +on his grave, out of sheer gratitude and affection for +his memory."</p> + +<p>"You don't often meet with friendship like that."</p> + +<p>"You're right there. Ah, one needs to have friends; +when you haven't, it's only too easy to get low-spirited—especially +now, since I've had this bilious trouble."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that must be horrid."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_8" id="Page_8" title="[Pg 8]"></a> +"Horrid, yes, it's the very devil. Only fancy, a +man like me, that used to eat and drink whatever I +pleased—as far as I could get it, that is—and now +that I can get whatever I've a fancy to, I have to +live on brown bread and weak tea. You'd think +Providence might have managed things better than +that, now, wouldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I'm sure, if you're careful, you'll soon be +all right again. And as long as you're properly looked +after——"</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's just the trouble, I must say. I've been +used to something very different. I dare say you know +I've been married twice——"</p> + +<p>"Twice? Oh yes, I fancy I did hear about it."</p> + +<p>"So you can understand it's a great deal to miss."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. Let me see; wasn't your first wife +English?"</p> + +<p>"Maggie—yes; oh, a charming creature, Miss Rantzau; +I wish you could have seen her. The loveliest brown +eyes, and hair as black as a raven's wing, and a complexion +of milk and roses. And the sweetest disposition; +good inside and out she was. Too good, I +suppose, for this world as well as for me."</p> + +<p>"Your first wife did not live very long?"</p> + +<p>"We were only married a year: hardly enough to +count, really. It's just a beautiful memory——"</p> + +<p>"And how did you come to meet her, Mr. Holm?"</p> + +<p>"It was in Birmingham—I was over there on business. +I dare say you've noticed I put in an English +word now and again in talking; it's all from the time +of my first marriage."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have noticed you use foreign words now +and again."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_9" id="Page_9" title="[Pg 9]"></a> +"It's all from those days with Maggie. Oh, you +should have heard her say: 'I love you, darling.' +Lord save us, what a lovely creature she was! I +declare I love England myself now, all for Maggie's +sake."</p> + +<p>"And your son, the engineer, she was his +mother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, to be sure. Poor Maggie, it cost her life, +that little bit of business."</p> + +<p>"And your second wife?"</p> + +<p>"She was a Widow Gronlund from Arendal. Ah, +that was a queer story. There I was, you see, with +little William, Maggie's boy, sorrowful and downcast +as a wet umbrella. Of course you'd understand I'd no +wish really to go and get married again all at once; I +wrote to Skipper Gronlund of Arendal—he was a cousin +of mine—and asked if he and his wife would take the +boy and look after him. They were willing enough, +the more by reason they'd only one child of their own +Little Marie, a girl of the same age."</p> + +<p>"So they took the boy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He was there for four years, and then I +began to feel the want of him and went up to Arendal +to see him. But what do you think happened then? +Just as I got to Arendal there came a wire saying +Gronlund's ship had gone to the bottom, and that +was the end of Gronlund!"</p> + +<p>"And then you married her?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly. What else could I do? Amalie, Mrs. +Gronlund that is, wouldn't give up the boy, and I +couldn't tear him away by force, could I? Very well, +I said, what must be must, man is but dust, and so +we got married."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_10" id="Page_10" title="[Pg 10]"></a> +"Mrs. Gronlund was not altogether young, I +suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing much to look at, more's the pity, but an +excellent housekeeper and a good-hearted soul."</p> + +<p>"And so it turned out happily after all?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, that it did, but it didn't last long, worse +luck. Amalie still kept longing for her Gronlund, and +she got kidney disease and went off to join him—and +there I was left once again all on my own, and this +time with Maggie's boy and Amalie's girl."</p> + +<p>"But you were glad to have the children, surely?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, at times. But I can't help calling to +mind the words of the prophet, Children are a blessing +of the Lord, but a trial and a tribulation to man. It's +true, it's true.... Well, William was going in for +engineering, you see, and he was away in Germany +at his studies—studying how to spend money, as far +as I could see, with a crowd of mighty intelligent +artist people he'd got in with. And what do you +suppose he's doing now?"</p> + +<p>Betty was working at her books again, writing away +with all her might in the big ledger, while Holm went +on with his story.</p> + +<p>"He wants to be a painter—an artist, you'd say, +and daubs away great slabs of picture stuff as big as +this floor—but Lord save and help us, I wouldn't have +the messy things hung up here. I told him he'd much +better go into the shop and get an honest living in a +decent fashion like his father before him—but no! +Too common, if you please, too materialistic. And +that's bad enough, but there's worse to it yet. Would +you believe it, Miss Betty, he and those artist friends +of his have turned Marie's head the same wry fashion,<a class="pagenum" name="Page_11" id="Page_11" title="[Pg 11]"></a> +and make her believe she's cut out for an artistic career +herself—a born opera singer, they say; and now she +carols away up there till people think there's a dentist +in the house. Oh, it's the deuce of a mess, I do assure +you!"</p> + +<p>Betty looked up from her book. "You must have +the gift of good humour, Mr. Holm."</p> + +<p>"Well, I hope so, I'm sure. Shouldn't like to be +one of your doleful sort."</p> + +<p>"A kind and hard-working man you've always been, +I'm sure. A perfect model of a man."</p> + +<p>"Perfect model—me? Lord preserve us, I wouldn't +be that for worlds. Can't imagine anything more +uninteresting than the perfect model type. No—I've +just tried all along to be an ordinary decent man, +that finds life one of the best things going. And when +things happened to turn particularly nasty—no money, +no credit, and that sort of thing—why, I'd just say to +myself, 'Come along, my lad, only get to grips with +it, and you'll pull through all right.' And then I +could always console myself with the thought that +when things were looking black, they couldn't get +much blacker, so they'd have to brighten up before +long."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it takes sorrows as well as joys to make a +life."</p> + +<p>"That's true. But we make them both for ourselves +mostly. If you only knew what fun I've got +out of life at times; have to hammer out a bit of +something lively now and then, you know! Look at +us now, for instance, just sitting here talking. Isn't +that heaps better than sitting solemnly like two +mummies on their blessed pyramids?" And he<a class="pagenum" name="Page_12" id="Page_12" title="[Pg 12]"></a> +swung round on his high stool till the screw creaked +again.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, it's very nice, I'm sure." Betty +began putting her books away, Holm walking up and +down meanwhile with short, rapid steps. Upstairs, +someone was singing to the piano.</p> + +<p>"Nice sort of evening we're going to have, by the +look of things. House full of blessed amateurs with +fiddles and tambourines. Serve them right if they +were packed off to a reformatory, the whole——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but surely, Mr. Holm, you needn't be so hard +on them. Young people must have a little entertainment +now and then—especially when they've a father +who can afford it," she added a little wistfully.</p> + +<p>"Afford it—h'm. As to that ... if they keep +on the way they're going now, I'm not sure I shan't +have to give them a bit of a lesson...." He crossed +over to the desk, and, spreading out his elbows, looked +quizzically at Betty.</p> + +<p>"What do you think now—is Knut G. Holm too +old to marry again?"</p> + +<p>"Really, I'm sure I couldn't say," answered the girl, +with a merry laugh. And, slipping past him, she took +her jacket and hat.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Mr. Holm."</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Miss Betty. I hope I haven't kept you +too long with all my talk, but it's such a comfort to +feel that there's one place in the house where there's +somebody sensible to talk to."</p> + +<p>He stood for some time looking after her.</p> + +<p>"Not bad—not bad at all. Nice figure—trifle over +slender in the upper works, perhaps; looks a bit +worried at times; finds it hard to make ends meet,<a class="pagenum" name="Page_13" id="Page_13" title="[Pg 13]"></a> +perhaps, poor thing. H'm. But she's a good worker, +and that's a fact. Yes, I think this arrangement +was a good idea."</p> + +<p>Garner came in with the cash-box. "We've shut +up outside, Mr. Holm. Was there anything more you +wanted this evening?"</p> + +<p>"No—no thanks. H'm, I say, that row and goings +on upstairs, can you hear it out in the shop?"</p> + +<p>"About the same as in here. But it's really beautiful +music, Mr. Holm. I slipped out into the passage +upstairs a little while back, and they were singing a +quartette, but Miss Marie was taking the bass, and +going so hard I'm sure they could hear her right up +at the fire station."</p> + +<p>"I've no doubt they could, Garner. But I'll give +them music of another sort, and then—we'll see!" +He flung the cash-box into the safe with a clang, and +Garner judged it best to disappear without delay.</p> + +<p>Outside in the shop he confided to Clasen that the +old man was in a roaring paddy about the music upstairs; +and the pair of them fell to speculating as to +what would happen when he came up.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing," said Clasen. "Those youngsters +they always manage to get round him in the end."</p> + +<p>"Might get sick of the whole business and give up +the shop—or make it over to us, what?" added Garner, +"as his successors," and he waxed enthusiastic over +the idea as they strolled along to Syversen's Hotel for +a little extra in the way of supper.</p> + +<p>Holm was walking up and down by himself in the +office, while the music upstairs went on, until the +globe on the safe rattled with the sound. He was in +a thoroughly bad temper for once. "There! Just<a class="pagenum" name="Page_14" id="Page_14" title="[Pg 14]"></a> +as everything was going nicely—and a balance-sheet +worth framing! Ha-ha! and only the other day that +miserable worm of a bank manager, Hermansen, +wouldn't take my paper for £400. Lord, but I'd like +to show that fellow one day; make him understand +he was a trifle out in his reckoning with the firm of +Knut G. Holm. Do a neat little deal to the tune of +a few thousand, cash down—something to make him +scratch his silly pate. I can just imagine him saying +to himself: 'Remarkable man that Knut Holm. +Never really had much faith in him before, but +now....' Yes, that's what he said a few years +back, I remember; hadn't much faith in the business. +Well, I must say, things <em>were</em> looking pretty bad at +that time. But I'd always reckoned on William's +coming into the business; new style, Holm and Son. +And now there's an end of all that. No, it doesn't +pay to go building castles in the air; it's just card +houses that come tumbling down with a crash. Here +have I been toiling and moiling all these years, morning +till night, building up the business step by step to what +it is now. Had to knuckle to that swine of a Hermansen +ugh—ugrh—isch! Lying awake at night trying to +work out some way of getting over to-morrow, with +the bills falling due—and now there's that pack of +wastrels sitting up there. 'Poor old man'—that's +their style—'quite a decent old chap in many ways, +no doubt, but no idea of culture, no sense of lofty +ideals; spent his life standing behind a counter and +that's about all he's fit for.' Oh, I know the tune when +they get on that topic! I've marked it often enough +when I'm with them and their precious friends. They'll +eat and drink at my expense, and then slap me on the<a class="pagenum" name="Page_15" id="Page_15" title="[Pg 15]"></a> +shoulder in their superior way, thinking all the time +I'm just an old drudge of a cab horse, and lucky to +have the chance of encouraging real Art! Oh, I'll +talk to them! It'll be a real treat to give them a +proper lesson for once. They shall have it this evening. +So on, old boy!"</p> + +<p>When Holm walked into the big drawing-room +upstairs he was greeted with acclamation. "Hurrah +for Mæcenas! hurrah for the patron of Art! Hurrah!"</p> + +<p>"Here, Frantz, you're a poet; get up and make a +speech in honour of my noble sire."</p> + +<p>Frantz Pettersen, a podgy little man with a big fair +moustache, lifted his glass.</p> + +<p>"Friends and brothers in Art, in the eternal realm +of beauty! the halls wherein we live and move are +bright and lofty, it is true, and our outlook is +wide, unbounded. But let us not therefore forget the +simple home of our youthful days, though it be never +as poor and dry."</p> + +<p>"Dry—what do you mean? It's not dry here, I +hope?"</p> + +<p>"My mistake. Dark, I should have said. Poor +and dark.... Well, my friend, this noble fatherly +soul, who a moment ago entered upon us like a vision +from another world—a visitor from the lower regions, +so to speak (Hear!)—him we acclaim, by all the gods +of ancient myth, by the deities of the upper and the +nether world—steady, boys—not to speak of this. +And you, my fortunate young friend, whose lot it is +to claim this exalted soul by the worthy name of father, +rejoice with me at his presence among us in this hour. +Do not your hearts beat high with thankfulness to the +providence that has spared him to you so long? What<a class="pagenum" name="Page_16" id="Page_16" title="[Pg 16]"></a> +says the poet (now what does he say, I wonder? Let +me see). 'My father was a——' something or other. +Anyhow, never mind. To come to the point, we, er—raise +our glasses now in honour of this revered paterfamilias +whose toil and thingummy in this materialistic +world have crowned the work of his accomplished +children. <i lang="no">Skaal!</i>"</p> + +<p>The speech was received with general acclamation.</p> + +<p>Holm was taken by surprise, and hardly knew what +to say. He could hardly open the campaign at such +a moment with a sermon; mechanically he took the +glass offered him. But hardly had he touched it with +his lips than he asked in astonishment:</p> + +<p>"When—where on earth did you get hold of that +Madeira? Let me look at the bottle. I thought as +much. Tar and feather me, if they haven't gone and +snaffled my '52 Madeira! Six bottles that I'd been +keeping for my jubilee in the business—all gone, I +suppose. Nice children, I must say!"</p> + +<p>He sat down in an arm-chair, fanning himself with +a handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"These golden drops from the cellars of our revered +friend and patron——" began Frantz sententiously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, stop that nonsense, do," growled Holm. +And, snatching up a bottle of the old Madeira, he +took it into the dining-room and hid it behind the +sofa.</p> + +<p>"Dearest, darling papa, you're not going to be bad-tempered +now, are you?" whispered Marie, throwing +her arms around his neck.</p> + +<p>"I'm not bad-tempered—I'm angry."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you mustn't. Why, what is there to be +angry about?"</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_17" id="Page_17" title="[Pg 17]"></a> +Holm was dumbfounded. Nothing to be angry +about indeed. He ought perhaps to say thank you +to these young rascals for allowing him to stay up with +them?</p> + +<p>"Shall I sing to you, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Sing! no, thank you. I'd rather not."</p> + +<p>"But what's the matter? What's it all about?"</p> + +<p>"What's the matter—good heavens, why, my '52 +Madeira, isn't that enough?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, is that all? I'm sure it couldn't have been +put to better use. You ought to have heard Frantz +Pettersen making up things on the spur of the moment; +it was simply lovely."</p> + +<p>She had clambered up on his knee, with her arms +round his neck; the others were still in the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"Lovely, was it, little one?" said Holm in a somewhat +gentler voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes, papa—oh, I don't know when I've enjoyed +myself so much as this evening. And only fancy, +Hilmar Strom, the composer—there, you can see, the +tall thin man in glasses—he said I had a beautiful +voice—beautiful!"</p> + +<p>"Don't you believe it, my child."</p> + +<p>"What—when a great artist like that says so? +Oh, I was so happy—and now you come and...." +She stood up and put her handkerchief to her eyes. +Just then William came in.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, what's the matter? What are you crying +for?"</p> + +<p>"Papa—papa says I'm not to believe what Hilmar +Strom said—that I'd a beautiful voice. Ugh—it's +always like that at home—it's <em>miserable</em>." She leaned<a class="pagenum" name="Page_18" id="Page_18" title="[Pg 18]"></a> +over in a corner of the sofa, hiding her face in her +hands.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you're right. Oh, we shall have pleasant +memories of home to go out into the world with." And +William stalked off in dudgeon.</p> + +<p>Holm sat there like a criminal, at a loss what to +make of it all. Oh, these young folk! They always +seemed to manage to turn the tables on him somehow. +He couldn't even get properly angry now.</p> + +<p>And Marie—he was always helpless where she was +concerned. He was sorry now he had not brought her +up differently. But he had never said an unkind word +to her—how could he, to a sweet little thing like that? +Only last year she had nursed him herself for three +weeks, when he was at death's door with inflammation +of the lungs; that girl, that girl! He went over +to the sofa and put his arms round her.</p> + +<p>"There, there, little one, it's not so bad as all +that."</p> + +<p>"Hu—hu—hu—I didn't know—I didn't know +about the old Madeira. It was me—hu—hu—that +brought it up."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, never mind about the Madeira, child. +We can get some more; only don't cry now."</p> + +<p>She turned towards him.</p> + +<p>"Then you're not angry with me any more, papa?" +"No, no, child. There—now go in and enjoy +yourself again."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but it's so horrid, papa—I'm sure the others +must have noticed us."</p> + +<p>Just then William came in and reported that the +scene had made a painful impression on the guests; +Strom, the composer, and Berg, the sculptor, were for<a class="pagenum" name="Page_19" id="Page_19" title="[Pg 19]"></a> +going off at once, and were only with difficulty persuaded +to stay.</p> + +<p>Holm did not know what to say to this; the transition +from accuser to accused was too sudden.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you make us some punch, father; it +would sort of set things right again if you were to +come marching in yourself with a big bowl of punch."</p> + +<p>"Punch? H'm—well—I could, of course, but +then ..."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, that lovely punch, papa, you know, with +champagne and hock and curaçao in—and all the rest +of it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose I must. Now that I have once +got into all this—this artist business, why ..." And +off he went for the key of the cellar.</p> + +<p>No sooner was he out of the room than William +burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Marie, you are the most irresistible little devil +that ever lived." And he waltzed her round and +round.</p> + +<p>"Well, it wanted some doing to-day, William, I +can tell you. I was half afraid I shouldn't manage +it after all. As it was, I had to cry before he'd come +round."</p> + +<p>"First-rate. Woman's tears are the finest weapon +ever invented—and punch on top of all—bravo! +Come along, we must go and prepare the rest of the +band for what's coming."</p> + +<p>Out in the kitchen, Holm was busy over a punch +bowl, solemnly stirring the brew and dropping in slices +of lemon one by one.</p> + +<p>"I am an old fool, I know, to let them get round +me as they do. H'm. And the longer I leave it,<a class="pagenum" name="Page_20" id="Page_20" title="[Pg 20]"></a> +the worse it will be. We shall have to come to a +proper understanding some time; it can't go on like +this...."</p> + +<p>"Papa, are you nearly ready?"</p> + +<p>"Coming, coming, dear, in a minute. Open the +door, there's a good girl."</p> + +<p>The entry of the host with a bowl of punch was the +signal for a general demonstration of delight. Frantz +Pettersen promptly sat down at the piano and started +off, the rest of the party accompanying with anything +they could lay hands on. One had a pair of fire tongs, +one beat a brass tray, one rang a couple of glasses +against each other, and so on. The words were +something like this:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iminus">"Our host he is a lasting joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A perfect Pa for girl and boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A perfect Pa, hurray, hurrah,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hurrah, hurrip, hurroo!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He stands with head so meekly bowed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Withal a man of whom we're proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We're proud of you, hurrah, hurroo,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hurrah, hurrip, hurray!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All honour to the grocery trade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereby his fortune it was made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a nice one too, hurrah, hurroo,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hurrah, hurrip, hurray!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It must have been a decent pile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For his cellar's stocked in splendid style,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Put it away, hurrah, hurray,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hurrah, hurrip, hurroo!<a class="pagenum" name="Page_21" id="Page_21" title="[Pg 21]"></a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though somebody must have made, we fear, a<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad mistake with that Madeira,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="sic" title="[sic]">Maderiah</span>, hurray, hurrah,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hurrah, hurrip, hurroo!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But now he casts all care away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gladly joins our circle gay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our circle gay, hurrah, hurray,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hurrah, hurrip, hurroo!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The flowing bowl he brings us here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So drink his health with a hearty cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hip, hip, hurrah, hurrip,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hurrah, hurrip, hurra-a-ay!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Holm did not know whether to laugh or cry at this +exhibition, but chose the former; after all, it might +be worth while to see how far they would go. He made +speech after speech, and the company shouted in +delight. Graarud, the literary critic of the <i>People's +Guardian</i>, declared that Knut Holm was a credit to +the merchant citizens of his country, and as fine a +specimen of the type as was to be found.</p> + +<p>Listad, another literary man, who edited a paper +himself, was making love to Marie, but with little +apparent success. He was a cadaverous-looking +personage, but an idealist, and earnest in the cause of +universal peace.</p> + +<p>The speeches grew more and more exalted in tone +as the evening went on. Pettersen invited the company +to drink to the "coming dawn of Art in the land—a +dawn that would soon appear when once the daughter +of the house raised her melodious voice to ring o'er +hill and dale." This was too much for Holm; he<a class="pagenum" name="Page_22" id="Page_22" title="[Pg 22]"></a> +slipped into the hall and, putting on an overcoat, went +out to get some fresh air.</p> + +<p>It was a fine, starlight, frosty night, the river flowed +broad and smooth and dark between the piers, the +gas lamps on either side shedding long streaks of light +across the silent water.</p> + +<p>He swung round the corner, but—heavens, who +was that sitting so quietly on the steps in front of the +shop? He went up, and found a twelve-year-old boy +leaning against the wall.</p> + +<p>"Why, little man, what's the matter? What are +you sitting out here for in the cold?"</p> + +<p>The lad rose hurriedly to his feet and made as if to +run away.</p> + +<p>"No, here, wait a bit, son; there's nothing to be +afraid of." Holm took the boy's hand, and looked +into a pale childish face with deep dark eyes, and +framed in a tangle of fair hair.</p> + +<p>"I was only listening," he sobbed.... "The music +upstairs there...."</p> + +<p>"You're fond of music, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I always go out in the evening, when nobody +can see, and sit outside where I know there's somebody +that plays. And Holm's up there, they've got the +loveliest piano."</p> + +<p>"Would you like to learn to play yourself?"</p> + +<p>The boy looked up at him in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you. If you're so fond of music, wouldn't +you like to learn to play?"</p> + +<p>"I've got to help mother at home, because father's +dead. And when I'm big enough I'm going to be a +sailor. Please, I must go home now."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_23" id="Page_23" title="[Pg 23]"></a> +"Mother getting anxious about you, eh?"</p> + +<p>"No, she knows where I go of an evening; she +doesn't mind."</p> + +<p>"Well, what's your name, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"Hans Martinsen."</p> + +<p>"Here you are, then, Hans, here's two shillings for +you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, er—that for me! I could go to heaps of +concerts.... Thank you ever so much."</p> + +<p>He clasped the outstretched hand in both his little +fists, and looked up with beaming eyes.</p> + +<p>"And now look here, little Hans. At eleven +o'clock to-morrow morning you come round and ask +for me. Here in the shop."</p> + +<p>"But, are you—are you Mr. Holm, then?" He +loosed the hand.</p> + +<p>"Well, and what then? That's nothing to be afraid +of, is it, little Hans? But now, listen to me. I want +you to come round here to-morrow morning, as I said. +And perhaps then we'll have some real nice music for +you. And you can bring your mother too if you like."</p> + +<p>"Music—to-morrow—oh, that will be lovely. And +won't mother be pleased!"</p> + +<p>"And now run along home, like a good boy, and +get warm. You've been sitting here in the cold too +long already. Good-night."</p> + +<p>"Good-night, good-night!"</p> + +<p>Holm watched the little figure hurrying with swift +little legs across the bridge, till it disappeared into the +dark on the farther side.</p> + +<p>He stood for some time deep in thought. The +dawn of Art—what was it Pettersen had said? What +if he, Holm, the despised materialist, were to be the<a class="pagenum" name="Page_24" id="Page_24" title="[Pg 24]"></a> +first to discover the dawn here! It was a strange +coincidence, anyway. "And such strange, deep eyes +the little fellow had; it went to my heart when his +little hands took hold of mine.... Ay, little lad, +you're one of God's flowers, I can see. And you shan't +be left to perish of cold in this world as long as my +name's Knut Holm."</p> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_25" id="Page_25" title="[Pg 25]"></a></p> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III<br /> +BRAMSEN</h2> + + +<p>On the morning after the party, Holm sent down +for Paal Abrahamsen or "Bramsen" as he +was generally called. Holm and Bramsen +had known each other from childhood; they had gone +to the same poor school, and had grown up together. +After their confirmation, Bramsen had gone to sea, +while Holm had got a place in a shop, and commenced +his mercantile career. But he never forgot his old +friend, and when in course of time he had established +a business of his own, he made Bramsen his warehouseman +and clerk on the quay, where he now held a +position of trust as Holm's right-hand man. He was +a short, bandy-legged man, with a humorous face set +in a frame of shaggy whiskers, and a remarkably mobile +play of feature. Agile as a cat, he could walk on his +hands as easily as others on their feet, and, despite his +fifty-five years, he turned out regularly on Contrition +Day to compete with the boys for prizes in the park; +and he was a hard man to beat!</p> + +<p>"Paal he can never be serious," complained Andrine, +his wife, who was something of a melancholy character +herself, and constantly endeavouring to drag him +along to various meetings and assemblies which Paal +as regularly evaded on some pretext or other.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_26" id="Page_26" title="[Pg 26]"></a> +Holm's relations with his old comrade and subordinate +were of a curious character. Down at the quay, +when they were alone, they addressed each other in +familiar terms, as equals; but in public, Bramsen was +always the respectful employee, observing all formalities +towards his master.</p> + +<p>When the message came down from the office +that Mr. Holm would be coming down to the waterside +at 7.30 in the morning to see him, Bramsen turned +thoughtful.</p> + +<p>They had held a similar conference once, some +years before, when the firm of Knut G. Holm looked +like going to ruin—Heaven send it was not something +of the same sort now!</p> + +<p>Holm looked irritable and out of sorts. "Bramsen," +he said, "I'm sick and tired of the whole blessed +business."</p> + +<p>Bramsen scratched his chin meditatively, and laid +his head on one side. "H'm," he observed after a +pause. "More trouble with that there guinea-pig up +at the bank, fussing about bills and that sort?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, nothing to do with that. We're all right +as far as money goes."</p> + +<p>"All right, eh? But you're put out about something, +that's plain to see. Liver out of order, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no!"</p> + +<p>"Why, then, there's nothing else that I can see."</p> + +<p>"It's those wretched youngsters of mine."</p> + +<p>"Ho, is that all?"</p> + +<p>"All! As if it wasn't enough! I tell you they're +going stark mad, the pair of them."</p> + +<p>"Seems to me they've been that way a long time +now."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_27" id="Page_27" title="[Pg 27]"></a> +"Oh, it's all very well to talk like that. But really, +it's getting beyond all bearing. William's taken it +into his head to go and be a painter."</p> + +<p>"Well, and not a bad thing, either, as long as he +does the work decently, with plenty of driers and not +too much oil in the mixing. Look at Erlandsen up +the river, he's made a good thing out of it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, not that sort of painting. It's an artist, I +mean. Painting pictures and things."</p> + +<p>"Pictures!" Bramsen looked dumbfounded. +"Painting pictures? Well, blister me if I ever heard +the like. Wait a bit, though—there was Olsen, the +verger; he'd a boy, I remember, a slip of a fellow +with gold spectacles and consumption, he used to mess +about with that sort of thing. But he never made a +living out of it—didn't live long, anyway."</p> + +<p>"But that's not the worst of it, Bramsen. There's +Marie—she wants to be a singer."</p> + +<p>Bramsen almost fell off the sugar-box on which he +was seated.</p> + +<p>"Singer—what! Singing for money, d'you mean? +Going round with a hat?"</p> + +<p>"Something very much like it, anyway—only it'll +be my money that goes into the hat. What are we +to do about it, eh?"</p> + +<p>"H'm ... Couldn't you pack the boy off to sea? +And the young lady—send her to a school to do needlework +and such like?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, what's the good of talking like that? No, +my dear man, young people nowadays don't let themselves +be sent anywhere that way. There's the pair +of them, they simply laugh at us."</p> + +<p>Holm walked back to the office deep in thought.<a class="pagenum" name="Page_28" id="Page_28" title="[Pg 28]"></a> +On his return, he found Hans Martinsen, and Berg, the +organist, awaiting him.</p> + +<p>Bramsen remained seated on his sugar-box and +murmured to himself: "Well, it's a nice apple-pie +for Knut Holm, that it is. Lord, but they children +can be the very devil."</p> + +<p>A little later, Garner came down to the quay, and +found Bramsen still meditating on his box.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong with the old man to-day, Bramsen? +He looks as if he was going in for the deaf-and-dumb +school; there's no getting a word out of him."</p> + +<p>Bramsen sat for quite a while without answering. +Then at last he said solemnly:</p> + +<p>"It's my humble opinion, and that's none so humble +after all, that there's a deal of what you might call +contrapasts in this here world."</p> + +<p>"Meaning to say?"</p> + +<p>"It's plain enough. Folk that's got a retipation, +they does all they can to lose it, and they that hasn't, +why—there's no understanding them till they've got +one."</p> + +<p>Garner was still in the dark as to whither all this +wisdom tended, and began absently slitting up a coffee-sack.</p> + +<p>"Look you, Garner," Bramsen went on. "It's this +way with the women: they've each their station here +in life, as by the Lord appointed. Some gets married, +and some goes school-teaching, or out in service, and +such-like—and all that sort, they stick to their retipation; +but the woman that goes about singing for +money in a hat, her retipation's like a broken window—it's +out and gone to bits and done with."</p> + +<p>Garner laughed and looked inquiringly at the other.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_29" id="Page_29" title="[Pg 29]"></a> +"<em>Now</em>, do you understand, Garner, what's the +trouble with Holm?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, so that's what you're getting at, is it? Miss +Holm wants to go on the stage."</p> + +<p>"Singing, my boy; singing for money, and if so +be that was to happen to any daughter of mine, I'd +give her a dose of something to make her lose her +voice—ay, if it was rat poison, I would."</p> + +<p>It was a regular thing for Garner and Bramsen to +have a comfortable chat down at the waterside, when +the old sailor would generally relate some of his experiences +at sea. These yarns especially delighted +Garner, who came of a peasant stock himself, and +knew nothing of the sea or foreign parts until he came +to the town. He tried now to open up the subject +again.</p> + +<p>"Ever been in the Arctic, Bramsen?"</p> + +<p>"Have I? Why, I should think so. I was up +that way in '76, on a whaling trip with Svend Foya."</p> + +<p>It was a habit of Bramsen's at the beginning of a +story to make some attempt at a literary style, but he +invariably dropped it as he went on.</p> + +<p>"Dangerous business, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, that's as you take it or as you make it. If +one of the brutes gets your boat with a flick of his tail, +there's an end of you, of course. I remember once +we were after a big fellow; had a shot at him and got +in just aft of the spout-holes. And then, take my +word for it, he led us a dance. Off he went, full-speed +ahead, and us full speed astern, but blister me if he +didn't win the tug-of-war and sail off with us at nineteen +knots, till we were cutting along like a torpedo +boat. He wasn't winded, ye see, for his blowpipe<a class="pagenum" name="Page_30" id="Page_30" title="[Pg 30]"></a> +was intact, and his gear below-decks sound and ship-shape. +But at last we got him fairly run down, and +settled him with a straight one through the heart."</p> + +<p>"A whale's heart must be pretty big?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, he's what you might call a large-hearted +beast. About the size of a middling chest o' drawers +or a chiffonier."</p> + +<p>"Rough on a whale, then, if he got heart disease," +laughed Garner.</p> + +<p>"Why, as to that, I suppose it would be in proportion, +as you might say. But he's built pretty well to +scale in the other parts as well, with his main arteries +about as big round as a chimney."</p> + +<p>"I wonder you didn't go up with Nansen to the +Pole."</p> + +<p>"And what for, I'd like to know? Messing about +among a lot of nasty Eskimos; no, thankye, I'd a +better use for my time." And Bramsen went on +again with his whaling yarns for a spell, until Garner +found it was time to get back to the shop.</p> + +<p>Outside the store shed sat a row of urchins fishing +from the edge of the quay. Bramsen was a popular +character among the waterside boys; he would chat +and fish with them at off-times, or help them in the +manufacture of a patent "knock-out" bait, from a +recipe of his own, the chief ingredients being flour and +spirits. There was always a shout of delight when +the small fish appeared at the surface, belly upwards. +But to-day the knock-out drops appeared to fail of +their effect, whether because the fish had grown used +to French brandy, or for some other reason. Bramsen +soon left the boys to their own devices, and went back +into the shed. Here, to his astonishment, he found<a class="pagenum" name="Page_31" id="Page_31" title="[Pg 31]"></a> +Amanda, his daughter and only child, weeping in a +corner.</p> + +<p>Amanda was about fifteen, a lanky slip of a girl, +with her hair in a thick plait down her back, twinkling +dark brown eyes, and a bright, pleasant face.</p> + +<p>"Saints and sea-serpents—you here, child? What's +amiss now?"</p> + +<p>"Mother—mother wants us to go to meeting this +evening, and you promised we should go to the theatre +and see <i>Monkey Tricks</i>, and they say it's the funniest +piece."</p> + +<p>Bramsen grew suddenly thoughtful. What if the +child were to go getting ideas into her head, like Miss +Holm, and want to go about singing with a hat—h'm, +perhaps after all it might be as well to take her to the +meeting with Andrine.</p> + +<p>But the mere suggestion sent Amanda off into a +fresh burst of tears.</p> + +<p>"There, there, child, I'll take you to the theatre, +then, but on one condition."</p> + +<p>Amanda looked up expectantly. "Yes?"</p> + +<p>"You're never to think of singing for money yourself, +or going on the stage, or anything like that. You +understand?"</p> + +<p>The girl had no idea of what was in his mind, and +answered mechanically, "No, father—and you'll take +me to see <i>Monkey Tricks</i> after all?"</p> + +<p>"All right! but don't let your mother know, that's +all."</p> + +<p>Amanda was out of the door like an arrow, and +hurried home at full speed. That evening she and +her father sat up in the gallery, thoroughly enjoying +themselves. Bramsen, it must be confessed, had<a class="pagenum" name="Page_32" id="Page_32" title="[Pg 32]"></a> +taken the title literally, and waited expectantly all +through the piece for the monkey to appear, and was +disappointed in consequence, but seeing Amanda so +delighted with the play as it was, he said nothing about +it. Had he been alone he would have demanded his +money back; after all, it was rank swindling to +advertise a piece as Monkey Tricks, when there wasn't +a monkey.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Andrine had gone to the meeting, and +waited patiently for the others to appear—they had +promised to come on after. Here, however, she was +disappointed, as usual.</p> + +<p>When the backsliders came home, they found her +deploring the vanity of this world, the imperfections +of our mortal life, and the weakness of human clay +against the powers of evil.</p> + +<p>Bramsen and Amanda let her go on, as they always +did, exchanging glances the while; occasionally, when +her back was turned, Bramsen would make the most +ludicrous faces, until Amanda had to go out into the +kitchen and laugh.</p> + +<p>Bramsen was fond of his wife; she was indeed so +good-hearted and unselfish that no one could help it; +while Amanda, for her part, respected her mother as +the only one who could keep her in order. And indeed +it was needed, "with a father that never so much as +thought of punishing the child."</p> + +<p>Bramsen himself had never been thrashed in his +life, except by his comrades as a boy, and had always +conscientiously paid back in full. He had had no +experience of the chastening rod, and could not conceive +that anything of the sort was needed for Amanda. +Consequently, the relation between father and daughter<a class="pagenum" name="Page_33" id="Page_33" title="[Pg 33]"></a> +was of the nature of an alliance as between friends, +and as the years went on, the pair of them were +constantly combining forces to outwit Andrine.</p> + +<p>Bramsen had no idea of the value of money, or its +proper use and application, wherefore Andrine had, +in course of time, taken over charge of the family +finances, and kept the savings-bank book,—a treasure +which Bramsen himself was allowed to view on rare +occasions, and then only from the outside, its contents +being quite literally a closed book to him. Amanda +and he would often put their heads together and fall +to guessing how much there might be in the book, +"taking it roughly like," but the riddle remained +unsolved.</p> + +<p>Every month Bramsen brought home his pay and +delivered it dutifully into Andrine's hands; he made +no mention, however, of the ten-shilling rise that had +been given him, but spent the money on little extras +and outings for himself and Amanda, whom he found +it hard to refuse at any time.</p> + +<p>A month before, it had been her great wish to have +an album "to write poetry in"; all the other girls +in her class had one, and she simply couldn't be the +only one without. Bramsen could not understand +what pleasure there was to be got out of such an +article; much better to get a song book with printed +words and have done with it. But Amanda scorned the +suggestion, and the album was duly bought. She had +got two entries in it already, one from Verger <span class="sic" title="[sic]">Klemmeken</span> +of Strandvik, an old friend of her father's, who +wrote in big straggling letters:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iminus">"Whene'er these humble lines you see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pray that you'll remember me."<br /></span> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_34" id="Page_34" title="[Pg 34]"></a></div></div> + +<p>and one from Miss Tobiesen, an old lady at the infirmary, +who had been engaged seven times, and therefore +judged it appropriate to quote:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iminus">"'Tis better to have loved and lost<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than never to have loved at all."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Amanda then insisted that her father should contribute +something, but Bramsen declared in the first +place that the album was much too fine a thing for +his clumsy fist, and furthermore, that he couldn't hit +on anything to write. Amanda, however, gave him no +peace till he consented, and at last, after much effort, +the worthy man achieved the following gem:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iminus">"I, Amanda's only father,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love her very much but rather<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fear she causes lots of bother<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her wise and loving mother."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This elegant composition was unfortunately not appreciated +by Amanda, who, to tell the truth, was highly +displeased. Fancy writing such a thing in her book—why, +the whole class would laugh at her. Bramsen +was obliged to scratch it out, but in so doing, scratched +a hole in the paper, leaving no alternative but to take +out the page altogether, much to Amanda's disgust.</p> + +<p>Bramsen's highest ambition in life was to be master +of a steamboat; not one of the big vessels that go as +far as China, say, or Copenhagen—that, he realised, +was out of the question, in view of his large contempt +for examinations, mate's certificates and book-learning +generally. The goal of his desire, the aim of all his +dearest dreams, was a tugboat, a smart little devil +of a craft with a proper wheel-house amidships and +booms and hawsers aft.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_35" id="Page_35" title="[Pg 35]"></a> +A grand life it would be, to go fussing about up and +down the fjord, meeting old acquaintances among +the fishermen and pilots—yo, heave ho, my lads! He +had often suggested to Andrine that the contents of +the savings-bank book might be devoted to the purchase +of a tug, but Andrine would cross herself piously, and +urge him to combat all temptation and evil inspirations +of the sort. Bramsen could not see anything +desperately evil in the idea himself; he found it more +depressing to think that he should spend the remainder +of his days in the stuffy atmosphere of the warehouse +on the quay. Was it reasonable, now, for a man like +himself to be planted, like a geranium in a flower-pot, +among sugar-boxes, flour-sacks, and store-keeping +trash?</p> + +<p>"Ay, life's a queer old tangle sometimes," murmured +Bramsen to himself, "and we've got to make the best +of it, I suppose." And he cast a longing glance through +the doorway of the shed, at Johnsen, of the tug <i>Rap</i>, +steaming down the fjord with his tow.</p> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_36" id="Page_36" title="[Pg 36]"></a></p> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV<br /> +HERMANSEN OF THE BANK</h2> + + +<p>Hermansen was manager of the local bank. +He and Knut Holm had never been friends, +and though outwardly their relations were +to all seeming amicable enough, the attitude of each +toward the other was really one of armed neutrality.</p> + +<p>The banker was in all things cold, precise and +dignified, with a military stiffness of bearing, and +devoid of all softer sentiment or feeling.</p> + +<p>Entrenched behind his counter at the bank, he would +glance frigidly at any bill presented, and if the security +appeared to him insufficient, he would hand it back +with the remark: "We have no money to-day," +though the coffers might be full to bursting.</p> + +<p>He was an old bachelor, and Holm was wont to +declare that if Hermansen, at the Creation, had been +set in Adam's place in the Garden of Eden and found +himself alone with Eve, he would have declined to +discount any promissory notes of hers, and our planet +in consequence have been as uninhabited as the +moon.</p> + +<p>Hermansen was really quite a good-looking man; +his tall, slender figure in tight-fitting coat, his iron-grey +hair brushed a little forward on either side of his +clean-shaven face, the narrow, close-set lips, combined<a class="pagenum" name="Page_37" id="Page_37" title="[Pg 37]"></a> +to give him an appearance of distinction fitted for a +member of the diplomatic corps.</p> + +<p>He was a smart man of business, not only in the +affairs of the bank, but also for his own account. +Whenever an opportunity occurred of making money, +whether by purchase of real property, bankrupt stock +or other means, he was always ready to step in at the +most favourable moment. He was generally considered +one of the richest men in the town, and could afford +to speculate at long sight; he was too wise, however, +to give any grounds for the suspicion that he took +undue advantage of his position. But, as Holm would +say, "he's a devilish sharp nose, all the same; he can +smell a coming failure years before the man himself +has ever thought of it." And it was Holm's great +ambition to get the better of him and make the banker +burn his fingers in a way he should remember. But +it was no easy matter, and up to now all his attempts +in that direction had recoiled upon himself.</p> + +<p>There was that affair of the building site behind +the Town Hall, for instance; Holm's temper went +up to boiling point even now whenever he thought +of it.</p> + +<p>Hermansen, he knew, had had an eye on the place +for years, and Holm was sure that by snapping it up +himself he would be able to make a few hundred pounds +by selling it again to his rival. Accordingly, when the +site was put up for auction, he bought it in himself +under the very nose of the banker, and gladly paid +five hundred for it, though he knew four hundred would +have been nearer the mark.</p> + +<p>On the day following the sale he encountered Hermansen +in the street.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_38" id="Page_38" title="[Pg 38]"></a> +"Ah, Mr. Holm, so you were left with that site +yesterday?"</p> + +<p>Aha, thought Holm, he's working up to it already.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, I thought I'd take it. Fine bit of +ground, you know, splendid situation—but I'm open +to sell, at a reasonable advance, of course."</p> + +<p>"Thanks very much—but I'm not a buyer myself. +By the way, I suppose you know there's a condition +attached to the building: no windows to overlook the +Town Hall. That means the frontage will have to +be in the little back street behind, on the shady side. +H'm, lowers the value of the property, of course. +Still, taking it all round, I should say it was quite a +fair deal."</p> + +<p>Holm stood looking helplessly after him; he had +had no idea of any such condition attached, and the +thought of his oversight made him furious for months +after. The site lay there vacant to this day, a piece +of waste ground, with a big open ditch running through +it. Vindt, the stockbroker, had named it "Holm's +Canal," after a larger and more celebrated piece of +water with which Knut Holm had nothing to do. And +some ill-disposed person had written to the local +paper, complaining of the "stink" which arose from +the water in question.</p> + +<p>Holm found the office considerably pleasanter and +more comfortable since Miss Betty's installation. An +outward and visible sign of the change was the vase +of fresh flowers which she placed on the desk each +morning, showing that even a dusty office might be +made to look cheerful and nice.</p> + +<p>Already the two of them chatted together as if they +had known each other for years, and the relations<a class="pagenum" name="Page_39" id="Page_39" title="[Pg 39]"></a> +between master and employee grew more and more +cordial.</p> + +<p>Holm, of course, was always the one to open conversation; +he talked, indeed, at times to such an extent +that Betty was obliged to beg him to stop, as she could +not get on with her work. This generally led to a +pause of a quarter of an hour or so, during which +Holm would sit watching her over his glasses while +she entered up from daybook to ledger with a certain +careless ease. Wonderful, thought Holm to himself, +how attractive a fair-haired girl can look when she's +dark eyebrows and eyelashes, and those blue eyes. +Pity she always keeps her mouth tight shut, and hides +her lovely teeth.</p> + +<p>He sat lost in contemplation, watching her so intently +that she flushed right up to her fair head.</p> + +<p>"There's the telephone, Mr. Holm," she said +desperately, at last, by way of diverting his attention.</p> + +<p>"Thanks very much, but I never use the telephone +myself. I don't care to stand there like a fool talking +down a tube, and likely as not with half a dozen people +listening all over the place. No, thank you, I don't +think my special brand of eloquence is suited to the +telephone service."</p> + +<p>Holm always refused to speak to people on the +telephone, possibly because he knew that he often +said a good deal without reflection and did not care +to have witnesses to it, afterwards. Anyhow, he +regarded the telephone as one of the plagues of modern +times. "If the devil had offered a prize," he would +say, "for the best instrument of bother and annoyance +to mankind, that fellow Edison should have +got it."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_40" id="Page_40" title="[Pg 40]"></a> +The telephone rang, and Betty went to answer it.</p> + +<p>"It's Nilson, the broker, wants to speak to you."</p> + +<p>"Ask what it is."</p> + +<p>"He says the big Spanish ship that came in the other +day with a cargo of salt for Hoeg's is to be sold by +auction for bottoming, and he thinks it's to be had at +a bargain."</p> + +<p>"Right! thanks very much. I'll think about it."</p> + +<p>Holm brightened up at the prospect of a deal, and +forgot all about Betty, blue eyes, dark lashes, fair +hair and all.</p> + +<p>"Garner, get hold of Bramsen sharp as ever you +can, and tell him to go on board that Spaniard at +Hoeg's wharf, and have a thorough look round."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later Bramsen himself appeared, +breathless with haste.</p> + +<p>"I've been on board already, Mr. Holm, pretty +near every evening. They've a nigger cook that plays +all sorts of dance tunes on a bit of a clay warbler he's +got; it's really worth hearing...."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, but the vessel herself. Is she any good, +do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Well, not much, I take it, though it doesn't show, +perhaps. I talked to the carpenter, and he said her +bottom was as full of holes as a rusty sieve; it's only +the paint that keeps her afloat. He showed me a +queer thing too, that carpenter; I've never seen anything +like it."</p> + +<p>"What sort of a thing?"</p> + +<p>"It was a magic cow, he said, got it in Pensacola. +You just wind it up, and it walks along the deck, and +lowers its head and says, 'Moo-oh!'"</p> + +<p>"What about the upper works?"</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_41" id="Page_41" title="[Pg 41]"></a> +"Well, I didn't see the works. But the upper +part's just brown hide, stuffed, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, man; it's the ship I mean."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes—well, she's smart enough to look at, +with lashings of paint and gilding and brass fittings +everywhere—the Spanish owner's no fool, I'll be +bound. Bottoming, indeed; I don't believe a word +of it."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Mean! why,"—Bramsen lowered his voice—"it's +just a fake, if you ask me, to make folk think they've +got an easy bargain."</p> + +<p>"Anyone else been on board looking round?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Skipper Heil was there all day yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Heil? Wasn't he skipper of Hermansen's <i>Valkyrie</i>?"</p> + +<p>"That's it! And I'm pretty sure 'twas Hermansen +sent him down to look."</p> + +<p>"Bramsen, listen to me. Not a word to a soul of +what you know about the ship; you've got to be +dumb as a doorpost. If anyone asks, you can tell +them in confidence that I sent you to look over her, +and not a word more, you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Right you are, Mr. Holm. But you're not thinking +of going in for the business yourself?"</p> + +<p>"You leave that to me."</p> + +<p>"Very good, Mr. Holm."</p> + +<p>When Bramsen was gone, Holm strode up and +down the office deep in thought.</p> + +<p>"I wonder, now, if we couldn't manage to nail old +Hermansen there. H'm. It's risky, but I must have +a try at it all the same."</p> + +<p>He put on his hat, and continued his sentry-go up<a class="pagenum" name="Page_42" id="Page_42" title="[Pg 42]"></a> +and down, with his thumbs in the armholes of his +waistcoat. Already he saw in his mind's eye the +Spaniard hauled up to the repair shops, and plate +after plate taken out of her bottom, till only the +superstructure remained. And finally, he himself, +as representative of the concern, would go up to the +bank and present a bill for the repairs—a bill running +into three—four—five figures!</p> + +<p>He fairly tingled at the thought of that bill. Seven-sixteenth-inch +plates, re-riveting, frame-pieces and all +the various items Lloyds could hit upon as needful.</p> + +<p>It was no easy matter to work out a plan of operations +on the spur of the moment. But there was no +time to be lost. It was Wednesday already, and the +ship was to be put up for auction on the Friday.</p> + +<p>First of all, he must go on board himself, openly, +as a prospective buyer. This, he knew, would be at +once reported to Hermansen, who would have his +intelligence department at work.</p> + +<p>On Thursday afternoon, then, Holm boarded the +Spaniard accordingly, and went over the vessel +thoroughly in the hope that Hermansen would get a +report that he, Holm, was keenly interested.</p> + +<p>Early Friday morning he went down again, and was +climbing up the ladder on the port side, but on glancing +over the bulwarks he perceived the clean-shaven face +of the banker, who was just coming on board from +the opposite side.</p> + +<p>Holm's first impulse was to bundle off again quickly, +but in stepping down, he managed to tread on +Bramsen's fingers, eliciting a howl which brought the +whole crew hurrying along to see what was the matter. +There was nothing for it now but to go on board,<a class="pagenum" name="Page_43" id="Page_43" title="[Pg 43]"></a> +which he did, nodding in the friendliest fashion to +Hermansen as he came up.</p> + +<p>"We're competitors, then, it seems," said the +banker politely.</p> + +<p>"I think not," said Holm seriously. "She's very +badly built, and I don't feel like going in for it myself."</p> + +<p>"Yes? I dare say," answered the banker, with a +sidelong glance at Holm, who appeared to be scrutinising +the upper rigging.</p> + +<p>"The fore and aft bulkheads are shaky too," said +Holm, well knowing that these were as good as could +be. Indeed, had the rest been up to the same standard, +the vessel would have been worth buying.</p> + +<p>Hermansen walked forward, and Holm went aft. +On completing the round, they came face to face +once more.</p> + +<p>"Bottom's not up to much, from what I hear," +remarked Holm casually, as he climbed over the rail +on his way down.</p> + +<p>"Very possible—very possible." There was a +slight vibration in the banker's voice as he spoke, +and Holm judged that things were going to be as he +wished.</p> + +<p>The auction was fixed for one o'clock, and Holm was +there punctually to the moment. Hermansen was +nowhere to be seen. "Funny," thought Holm to +himself. "I hope to goodness he hasn't smelt a rat."</p> + +<p>The conditions of sale were read; the bidding to be +understood as in agreement therewith.</p> + +<p>At last the banker appeared, and sat down unobtrusively +in a corner. His presence always made +itself felt in any gathering, as imparting a certain +solemnity to the occasion. Holm, who had been<a class="pagenum" name="Page_44" id="Page_44" title="[Pg 44]"></a> +chatting gaily with the magistrate and Advocate +Schneider, sat down quietly.</p> + +<p>"Well, gentlemen, to business. The frigate, <i>Don +Almariva</i>, is offered for sale to the highest bidder, +subject to the conditions just read. What offers?"</p> + +<p>"2000," said Holm. A long pause followed.</p> + +<p>"2000 offered, 2000. Any advance on 2000.... +Come, gentlemen...."</p> + +<p>Holm began to feel uneasy.</p> + +<p>"2050." It was the banker's sonorous voice.</p> + +<p>"2200," snapped out Holm, on the instant.</p> + +<p>"2250," from the corner, a little more promptly +than before.</p> + +<p>"2400," Holm was there again at once.</p> + +<p>Matters were getting critical now: Holm sat looking +steadily in front of him, not daring to look round. +The minutes were uncomfortably long, he felt as if +he were on a switchback, or in the throes of approaching +sea-sickness.</p> + +<p>"2400—two thousand four hundred pounds offered, +gentlemen. Any advance on 2400? 2400, going——"</p> + +<p>Holm was on the verge of apoplexy now. What +if he should have to present that bill for repairs to +himself, after all?</p> + +<p>Skipper Heil moved over to Hermansen and +whispered in his ear. All were turned towards the +pair—all save Holm, who sat as before, stiff as a statue +in his place, looking rigidly before him.</p> + +<p>The auctioneer stood with his hammer raised, his +eyes on the banker in his corner.</p> + +<p>"Going—going——"</p> + +<p>"2500," said the banker. At last!</p> + +<p>Holm gave a start as if something had pricked him<a class="pagenum" name="Page_45" id="Page_45" title="[Pg 45]"></a> +behind, and looked across with a curious expression +at Hermansen, who sat as impassive as ever.</p> + +<p>The hammer fell. Holm went across to the banker, +raised his hat and bowed. "Congratulations, my dear +sir; the vessel's yours. A little faulty in the bottom, +as I mentioned before, but still, taking it all round, +<em>I should say it was quite a fair deal</em>!"</p> + +<p>Holm went out into the street, and, meeting Bramsen, +who had been present out of curiosity, took him by +the shoulders and shook him. "Bramsen, my boy, +I've got him this time. Hermansen's let himself in +for it with a vengeance!"</p> + +<p>"Lord, Mr. Holm, but you gave me a fright before +it was over. I don't believe I've ever been in such a +tremble all my sinful life—unless it was the time I +jumped across old Weismann's bull."</p> + +<p>"Weismann's bull? What was that?"</p> + +<p>"Why, it was one day I was standing outside the +warehouse as innocent as a babe unborn, filling up a +herring barrel, and before I knew where I was there +was a great beast of a bull rushing down on me at full +gallop. They'd been taking him down to the slaughter-house, +and he'd broke away. Well, I couldn't get into +the barrel, seeing it was more than half full as it was, +and there wasn't time to get across to the sheds; the +brute's horns were right on top of me, like a huge +great pitchfork, and I reckoned Paal Abrahamsen's +days were numbered. And then suddenly I got a +revelation. I took a one—two—three, hop and a +jump, and just as the beast thought he'd got me on +the nail, up I went with an elegant somersault and +landed clean astride of him, as neat as a—as an +<span class="sic" title="[sic]">equidestrian</span> statue."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_46" id="Page_46" title="[Pg 46]"></a> +"But how did you get down again?"</p> + +<p>"Why, that was as easy as winking, seeing he flung +me off and down Mrs. Brekke's cellar stairs, so I felt +it a fortnight after."</p> + +<p>On his way down to the office, Holm met a number +of people who were all anxious to know who had bought +the Spaniard. Holm was at no pains to uphold <i>Don +Almariva's</i> reputation. When Nilsen the broker came +up to congratulate him on his supposed purchase, he +exclaimed: "Not me, my lad! Why, she's full of +holes as a rusty sieve." And he walked off, singing:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iminus">"He needs be something more than bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who'd fill his purse with Spanish gold."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Altogether, it was a red-letter day for Knut Holm. +And on entering the office he confided to Betty that +he had paid Banker Hermansen in full for that matter +of the building site. He told her, also, how he and the +banker had been secretly at war for years past, confessing +frankly that up to now the honours had been +with the other side.</p> + +<p>It was Hermansen who had hindered his election to +the Town Council, and possibly afterwards to parliament; +all along he had barred his way—until now. +And to-day, at last, the wind had changed, he had +gained his first victory; now perhaps the banker's +fortunes would begin to wane, in the town and farther +afield—for he was a man of some influence in the +country generally.</p> + +<p>Holm stood at first bent slightly over the desk, but +as he talked, and his enthusiasm increased, he drew +himself up, a figure of such power and energy that +Betty felt the banker would need to be well equipped<a class="pagenum" name="Page_47" id="Page_47" title="[Pg 47]"></a> +indeed to outdo him. She grew more and more +interested as he went on, following him with her eyes, +until he came over to her and said: "I don't mind +telling you, Miss Betty, it's not only Banker Hermansen, +but the whole pack of them in the town here, +that shrugged their shoulders and laughed behind my +back at everything I did.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I've felt it, too, you may be sure, though +I didn't show it. I've been cheerful and easy-going +all along, and, thanks to that, I can say I've done +two things at least: I've pleased my friends and +vexed my enemies!</p> + +<p>"And then the children upstairs, they've never +really understood me; just looked on me as a sort of +automatic machine for laying golden eggs. Lord, but +I'd like to put their nose out of joint one day, the +whole lot of them—make them take off their hats and +look up to see where Knut G. Holm had got to."</p> + +<p>He tried to take her hand, but she drew it back +sharply, and with a blush retreated behind the shelter +of her books.</p> + +<p>"You think I'm a queer sort, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Not that, Mr. Holm. I was thinking you're a +strong man. I've always longed to meet men that +were not afraid to face the real hard things of +life."</p> + +<p>"You're right in that; one doesn't often find a +man who's ready to risk anything really for his own +convictions. It's easy enough to get into one's shell +and rub along comfortably in flannel and carpet slippers, +to shout with the crowd and agree politely to all that's +said, be generally amiable and popular accordingly—but +it's too cramped and stifling for me. I must have<a class="pagenum" name="Page_48" id="Page_48" title="[Pg 48]"></a> +room to breathe, if I have to get out in the cold to +do it."</p> + +<p>He strode through into the shop, and she heard +him talking to Garner about having the whole of the +premises altered now, lighter and brighter, with big +plate-glass windows, and the floor sunk to make it +loftier.</p> + +<p>Betty sat for a long while thinking deeply over +what Holm had said. Several times she turned to +her books, but only to fall back into the same train of +thought; somehow it was impossible to work to-day.</p> + +<p>A strange man, he was, indeed, and she did not +quite like his being so confidential towards her. But +an honest heart, of that she felt sure, and a man one +could not help liking and helping as far as one could. +Holm came into the office a little while after, and +found it empty. Betty had gone. He stood awhile +by her desk, then picked up the glass with the yellow +roses in, and smelt them.</p> + +<p>"Women, women"—he looked at the roses—"these +little trifles are the weapons that count. H'm. Now +would it be so strange after all if I did marry again? +There's not much comfort to be looked for upstairs +as things are now—and she's a clever girl as well as +pretty. The youngsters, of course, would make no +end of fuss, but I'd have to put up with that."</p> + +<p>Just then William came in, smoking a cigarette.</p> + +<p>"Wanted to speak to you, father."</p> + +<p>"Right you are, my boy! speak away!"</p> + +<p>"Well, it's like this. Marie and I, we can't go on +as we have been doing lately."</p> + +<p>Holm turned quickly. "You mean to say you're +going to turn over a new leaf?"</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_49" id="Page_49" title="[Pg 49]"></a> +"I mean, we must get away from here. Marie's +budding talent will never thrive here, and I—I shall +grow stale if I don't get away soon. We want to +travel."</p> + +<p>"I see—well, travel along with you then; don't +mind me."</p> + +<p>"We want to go to Paris. Mrs. Rantzau, who is +herself a distinguished artist, says it's the only thing +for us, to go to Paris and complete our education. +There is no hope of developing one's talents in a place +like this—they simply wither and die."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that would be a pity."</p> + +<p>"Father, you must let us go. Don't you think +yourself, you ought to make some little sacrifice for +your only son?"</p> + +<p>"You think I haven't done enough? Wasn't it +for your sake I married your foster-mother? Haven't +I thrown away hundreds of pounds on your miserable +education as you call it, and your fantastic inventions +in the engineering line that never came to anything? +I could ill spare the money at the time, I can assure +you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, now I suppose we're to have the old story +over again, with the £150."</p> + +<p>"It won't do you any harm to hear it again. Where +would you have been, or I and the lot of us, in +1875, if Knut G. Holm hadn't got that £150 from +C. Henrik Pettersen. Down and under, and that with +a vengeance."</p> + +<p>"It was very good of Pettersen, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"Pettersen it was; it couldn't have been anyone +else. The money was sent anonymously, as you +know, the very morning I was thinking of putting up<a class="pagenum" name="Page_50" id="Page_50" title="[Pg 50]"></a> +the shutters and giving up for good. Just the money, +and a slip of paper, no business heading, only 'Herewith +£150, a gift from one who wishes you well.' That +was all, no signature, only a cross, or an 'x' or whatever +it was, at the foot."</p> + +<p>"Only an 'x'?"</p> + +<p>"That was absolutely all. I puzzled my brains to +think out who the good soul could be, but could never +bring it round to anyone but C. Henrik Pettersen, my +old friend. Though it wasn't like him, and that's the +truth."</p> + +<p>"You mean he was close-fisted generally?"</p> + +<p>"He was a business man, my boy, if ever there was +one. But we knew each other better than most. I +was in the know about his dairy butter at fifty per cent. +profit—though the Lord knows I wouldn't say a word +against him now he's dead and gone."</p> + +<p>"But didn't you ask him straight out if it was he +that sent the money?"</p> + +<p>"I should think I did. But he was one of those +people that won't say more than they want to. I +could never make him out myself. He used to just +sit there and smile and never say a word, but got me +on to talk instead."</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose it couldn't be anyone else?"</p> + +<p>"It was him sure enough. He was an old bachelor, +and an eccentric sort of fellow, with nobody to leave +his money to, so it wasn't altogether strange he should +send me that little bit of all he'd made, in return for +all the yarns I'd told to brighten him up. Anyway, +things took a turn for the better after that, and I +pulled round all right, so I've nothing to worry about +now, in spite of all you've cost me."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_51" id="Page_51" title="[Pg 51]"></a> +"It wasn't so much, I'm sure. And if only that +aerial torpedo of mine had gone right, I'd have paid +you back with interest."</p> + +<p>"But it went wrong—and so did you, my good sir; +and if you talk about sacrifice, why, I think it was +sacrifice enough, after I'd thrown away £200 on the +wretched thing, to come out myself to the parade +ground and see the thing go awry."</p> + +<p>"By an unfortunate accident."</p> + +<p>"A very fortunate accident, if you ask me, that +it didn't come down where we stood, or it might have +done for a whole crowd of innocent folk that were +simple enough to come out and look."</p> + +<p>"I don't know, I'm sure, what you want to drag +up that old story again for."</p> + +<p>"Because I want you to keep to earth in future. +Stay at home—on the mat, if you like it that way."</p> + +<p>"Will you help us to go to Paris, or will you not?"</p> + +<p>"Honestly, then, I should call it throwing money +away to do anything of the sort."</p> + +<p>"But if you knew that people who really know +something about art considered it absolutely necessary +for our future, for the development of our talents as +artists, then would you let us go?"</p> + +<p>"Competent judges to decide, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"If you will, we've both of us faith enough in our +calling, and in our future as artists."</p> + +<p>"Well, that sounds reasonable enough, I admit."</p> + +<p>"You will not accept Mrs<span class="corr" title="added: .">.</span> Rantzau's decision +alone? She is well known, not only as a teacher of +singing herself, but her husband had a great reputation +as an author and art critic, so she's heard and +seen a great deal. And she said the other day that<a class="pagenum" name="Page_52" id="Page_52" title="[Pg 52]"></a> +the little seascape of mine up in the Art Society's +place was excellent; the sky in particular was finely +drawn, she said."</p> + +<p>"I've no doubt she's a very clever woman. I +haven't the honour of her acquaintance myself, but +I must say I think a great deal of her daughter, in +the office here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Betty's just the opposite of her mother—she's +no idea of art whatever."</p> + +<p>"No, poor child, I dare say she's had quite enough +both of poverty and humbug."</p> + +<p>"Really, father, I don't think you're justified in +saying things like that."</p> + +<p>"That may be, my son. But if you two young +people are set on making artists of yourselves, why, do. +And if you can give me a reasonable guarantee that +it's any good trying, why, I won't stand in your +way."</p> + +<p>"I think we can, then."</p> + +<p>And William went up to tell Marie what had passed. +Holm sat for a while occupied with his own thoughts, +and came at last to the conclusion that the children +were "artist-mad," and got it badly. He must manage +to get hold of this Mrs. Rantzau, and see if she could +not be persuaded to use her influence to get these ideas +out of their heads—especially now, since her daughter +was in the office.</p> + +<p>There was a gentle tap at the door. It was little +Hans, who stood timidly looking up at him.</p> + +<p>"Well, Hans, lad, and how's the music getting on? +I hope you've made friends with your teacher?"</p> + +<p>He drew the boy over to a seat beside him on the +sofa. Hans carefully placed his cap over one knee,<a class="pagenum" name="Page_53" id="Page_53" title="[Pg 53]"></a> +for his trousers were torn, and he did not want it to +be seen.</p> + +<p>"Have you been for your lesson every day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, till the day before yesterday, but then I +hurt my hand chopping wood for mother, so I've got +to wait a few days till it's well." And he held out +one thin little hand, showing two fingers badly bruised +and raw.</p> + +<p>"Poor little man! I must tell Bramsen to lend you +a hand with the chopping."</p> + +<p>"And, please, I was to bring you this letter from +Mr. Bess; he asked me to take it up to you myself. +It's the bill for my lessons, I think," he added quickly, +"and he wants the money because of the rent." Hans +was well acquainted with such things from his own +home life, and having heard the organist and his wife +talking about the rent falling due, he at once took it +for granted that the case was as urgent then as when +his own mother lay awake at nights wondering how to +meet a similar payment.</p> + +<p>Holm took the letter and read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"In accordance with your request, I have been +giving lessons for some time to little Hans Martinsen, +whose gift for music is really surprising. Though I do +not consider myself fully qualified to judge the precise +value of his talent, I would say, as my personal opinion, +that the child shows quite unusual promise. And I +am convinced that with skilful and attentive tuition, +he could in time become a player of mark.</p> + +<p>"I am an old man now, and am not otherwise competent +to train such talent as it should be trained, but +as a lover of music myself, I beg you to assist the<a class="pagenum" name="Page_54" id="Page_54" title="[Pg 54]"></a> +child; you will find your reward, I'm sure. If I could +afford it, I would gladly contribute as far as I was able, +but as you know I am not in a position to do so. I +will not, however, accept any payment for the lessons +given, but should be glad to feel that I have made +some little offering myself towards his future."</p></div> + +<p>Holm read the letter through once more.</p> + +<p>"Little man, we must send you to Christiania to +study there. I'll arrange it all, and you shall have +the best teacher that's to be had."</p> + +<p>Hans sat twirling his cap, and made no answer.</p> + +<p>"Well, Hans, aren't you glad? Wouldn't you like +to go on with your music?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I can't. I can't go away and leave +mother; there'll be nobody to help her then."</p> + +<p>"Don't worry about that, my boy; your mother +shall go with you. No more washing; all she'll need +to do will be just to look after you."</p> + +<p>"But—how? Mother couldn't go away like that!"</p> + +<p>"We'll manage that all right. It's very simple. +I'll lend your mother the money, do you see, and +then, when you've learnt enough and can play properly +yourself, you can pay it back—if you want to, that is."</p> + +<p>"Oh—oh, how good you are! May I run home and +tell mother, now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, run along and tell her as quickly as you like. +Only understand, not a word to anyone else about it. +I'll come round this evening, anyway, and fix it all +up."</p> + +<p>Hans, in his delight, forgot all about hiding the hole +in his trousers; he grasped his friend's hands and +looked at him with glistening eyes.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_55" id="Page_55" title="[Pg 55]"></a> +"Is it really true—that I'm to go to Christiania?"</p> + +<p>"True as ever could be, little lad, and now off you +go—I'll come along soon."</p> + +<p>Holm took the organist's letter and read it through +once again.</p> + +<p>"Noble old fellow—so you'd sacrifice your hard-earned +money and give your trouble for nothing? +Not if I know it; you shan't be a loser there. And as +for Hans, I'll see to his education myself. He shall +go to Paris instead of those madcap youngsters with +their parties. My '52 Madeira too! But we'll soon +put a stop to that."</p> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_56" id="Page_56" title="[Pg 56]"></a></p> +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V<br /> +MRS. RANTZAU'S STORY</h2> + + +<p>She was a teacher of singing, and had only +recently settled in the town. Holm had never +seen her, but now that her daughter was +working in his office, and Marie had begun taking +lessons with Mrs. Rantzau herself, he felt it his duty +to call.</p> + +<p>Moreover, he had some secret hope that it might +be possible here to find an ally in his plan for combating +Marie's artistic craze. In addition to which, she was +Betty's mother....</p> + +<p>The place was four storeys up, and Holm, tired after +his climb, sat down at the top of the stairs for a +moment before ringing the bell.</p> + +<p>Tra-la-la-la-la-la—he could hear a woman's voice +singing scales inside, the same thing over and over +again. A little after came another voice, which he +took to be Mrs. Rantzau's.</p> + +<p>"Mouth wide open, please; that's it—now +breathe!"</p> + +<p>Holm rang the bell and Mrs. Rantzau opened the +door.</p> + +<p>He stood dumbfounded for a moment, staring at her.</p> + +<p>"Heavens alive—it can't be—Bianca, is it really +you?"</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_57" id="Page_57" title="[Pg 57]"></a> +She turned pale, came close to him and whispered:</p> + +<p>"For Heaven's sake, not a word." Then, taking +him by the arm, she thrust him gently into a room +adjoining.</p> + +<p>He heard the young lady take her departure, and a +moment later Mrs. Rantzau stood before him.</p> + +<p>She was still a magnificently handsome woman. +The dark eyes were deep and clear as ever, the black +hair waved freely over the forehead, albeit with a +thread of silver here and there. Her figure was +slender and well-poised, her whole appearance eloquent +of energy and life.</p> + +<p>"If you knew how I have dreaded this moment, +Mr. Holm," she began, then suddenly stopped.</p> + +<p>"H'm—yes. It's a good many years now since +last we met, Bianca—beg pardon, Mrs. Rantzau, I +mean."</p> + +<p>"Fifteen—yes, it's fifteen years ago. And much +has happened since then. I didn't know really +whether to go and call on you myself, and ask you not +to say anything about the way we met, and how I +was living then. But then again, I thought you must +have forgotten me ages ago."</p> + +<p>"Forgotten! Not if I live to be a hundred."</p> + +<p>"And then, too, I thought it might be awkward +for Betty if I tried to renew our old acquaintance; you +might be offended, and not care to keep her on at the +office...."</p> + +<p>"But—my dear lady—however could you imagine +such a thing?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know how good and kind you were when I +knew you before—but people change sometimes. +And you can understand, I'm sure, Mr. Holm, that<a class="pagenum" name="Page_58" id="Page_58" title="[Pg 58]"></a> +my position here, my connection with my pupils, +would be ruined if the past were known. Not that +I've anything to be ashamed of, thank God, but you +know yourself, in a little town like this, how people +would look at a woman—or even a man, for that +matter—whose life has been so—so unusual as mine."</p> + +<p>"Dear lady, I understand, of course, but I should +never have thought of mentioning a word of our +relations in the past."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, thanks! Oh, I can see now you have not +changed. Kind and thoughtful as ever; you were +good to me, Mr. Holm—not like the others." Her +voice trembled a little, and she grasped his hand.</p> + +<p>Holm flushed slightly, murmured a few polite words, +and thought—of Betty.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rantzau continued: "I should like you to +understand, to realise yourself the position I was +placed in then. Will you let me tell you the whole +story—if you've time?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I've time—you took up quite a considerable +amount of my time before, you know," he added +kindly.</p> + +<p>"Ah, I see you're the same as ever, Mr. Holm, +always bright and cheerful over things."</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, I'm glad to say. It would be a pity +not to."</p> + +<p>"Well, let me begin. My life hasn't been a path of +roses—far from it; it's been mostly thorns. If only I +could write, I might make quite an exciting story of +it all. I'm forty-two now, started life as a parson's +daughter up in the north, was married to a poet, and +lived with him in Paris; my child was born, and I +was left a widow then. I had to keep myself and Betty<a class="pagenum" name="Page_59" id="Page_59" title="[Pg 59]"></a> +by the work of my hands; sang at concerts, and +accompanied in Hamburg, lived as a countess in +Westphalia——"</p> + +<p>"What—a countess?"</p> + +<p>"Well, very nearly. But I'll tell you about that +later. I taught French in Copenhagen, and painting +in Gothenburg, was housekeeper to a lawyer in a +little Norwegian town, nearly married him but not +quite, and ended up here teaching singing. So you +see I've been a good many things in my time."</p> + +<p>"But tell me—tell me all about it," exclaimed +Holm eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Holm, you know the darkest part of all my +life; it is only fair that you should know the rest. +I've nothing to be ashamed of, for after all I have +managed to earn a livelihood for myself and Betty. +I was seventeen when I left home, and they said I +was quite good-looking——"</p> + +<p>"You're equal to anything on the market now, as +we say in business——"</p> + +<p>"Well, I came straight from the wilds of the Nordland +to Christiania, and they called me 'the Nordland +sun.' I was the most sought after at all the dances, +and perhaps one of the most brilliant, for I came to +the gay life of the capital with the freshness of a novice. +It was not long before I became engaged to a young +writer—a poet, he was——"</p> + +<p>"The devil you did! Beg pardon, I'm sure, but +to tell the truth I've no faith in that sort of people, +as Banker Hermansen would say."</p> + +<p>"We were both of us young and inexperienced; he +dreamed of gaining world-wide fame by his pen, and +I used to weep over his passionate love poems. I was<a class="pagenum" name="Page_60" id="Page_60" title="[Pg 60]"></a> +eighteen and he twenty-two, and I promised to follow +him to the end of the world, for better or worse.</p> + +<p>"Then one fine day we landed in Paris, without +caring a jot for our people, our friends, or our own +country. We were married there at the Swedish +Church, and there I was, a poet's wife, with my +people at home trying to forget the black sheep of +the family.</p> + +<p>"A few years passed. But every day saw the +breaking of one of the golden threads in our web of +illusion, and when Betty was born we were in desperate +straits.</p> + +<p>"Poor old Thor, he used to sit up late at night +writing stuff for the papers at home, all about magnificent +functions he'd never been to at all, and warming +his frozen fingers over a few bits of coal in the stove."</p> + +<p>"And he might have made quite a decent living in +an office," put in Holm sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately, he imagined he was a genius, and +gradually, as things got worse and worse, the struggle +for a bare existence made him bitter, till he hated the +world, and looked upon himself as a martyr condemned +to suffering.</p> + +<p>"Then he took to staying out late of an evening, +and wrote less and less. By the time we had been +there a year, the poet's wife was washing lace to keep +the home together. In the autumn of the second year, +he went down with pneumonia, and a week after the +'Nordland sun' was a widow. I couldn't go home, +for I'd cut myself adrift from them completely when +I married. There was nothing for it but to struggle +along as best I could by myself, unknown and friendless +in the great city. But, thank Heaven, I've always<a class="pagenum" name="Page_61" id="Page_61" title="[Pg 61]"></a> +had my health and a cheerful temper, and little Betty +was such a darling."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she's a wonderful girl."</p> + +<p>"She and I have fought our way together, Mr. +Holm, and a hard fight it has been at times, believe +me.</p> + +<p>"Well, we got along somehow in Paris, for a few +years, doing needlework, or giving music lessons at +fifty centimes an hour. It was a cheerless existence +mostly, as you can imagine, and if it hadn't been for +the child I should have broken down long before.</p> + +<p>"Then at last I got the offer of a place as accompanist +at a concert hall in Hamburg, with a salary of +a hundred marks a month for three hours' work every +evening and two rehearsals a week. This was splendid, +and I was in the highest spirits when I left Paris. +Besides, it was a little nearer home, and I used to be +desperately home-sick at times, though I knew it was +hopeless to think of going back.</p> + +<p>"Imagine my feelings, then, when I got to the +place and found it was a common music hall; though +very decent, really, for a place of that sort."</p> + +<p>"It was a beautiful place—at least, I thought so, +when I saw you there."</p> + +<p>"Well, there I sat, night after night, accompanying +all sorts of more or less third-rate artistes. It used +to make me wild, I remember, when they sang false, +or were awkward in their gestures; I used to look at +them in a way they would remember. And really, +I managed to make them respect me after a time, +though I was only twenty-five myself.</p> + +<p>"Then, besides my evenings there, I gradually +worked up a little connection giving music and singing<a class="pagenum" name="Page_62" id="Page_62" title="[Pg 62]"></a> +lessons outside, till I was making enough to live +fairly comfortably.</p> + +<p>"But one day the whole staff went on strike, and +left at a moment's notice, and there we were. The +manager—you remember him, I dare say, Sonnenthal; +man with a black waxed moustache and a big diamond +pin—he came running in to me and said I must sing +myself; it would never do to close down altogether +in the height of the season. He thought he would +get at least a couple of other turns, and if I would +help it would get us over the difficulty.</p> + +<p>"I told him I couldn't think of it—said I had no +talent for that sort of thing; but he insisted, and +offered me fifty marks a night if I would.</p> + +<p>"Fifty marks was a fabulous sum to me for one +night, then, after living on a franc and a half a day +in Paris, and it meant so much for Betty. I began +to think it over.</p> + +<p>"And really I felt sure myself that I could do +better than these half-civilised cabaret singers, from +Lord knows where, that I'd been playing to for so +long. But the parson's daughter found it hard to +come down to performing like that.</p> + +<p>"Then Sonnenthal offered me sixty marks. He +thought, of course, it was only a question of money. +It was too good to refuse, and I agreed.</p> + +<p>"He got out new posters, with big lettering:</p> + +<div class="center"> +<p class="b0">'SIGNORA BIANCA</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">The World-renowned Singer from Milan +now Appearing.</span>'</p></div> + +<p>"I remember how furious I was when the dresser +came in to make me up, and I flung her paints and<a class="pagenum" name="Page_63" id="Page_63" title="[Pg 63]"></a> +powders across the room. Sonnenthal came round +and wanted me to go on in short skirts, but I told +him in so many words that I was going to do it my +own way or not at all; and, knowing how he was +situated, of course he had to give in.</p> + +<p>"I think he was impressed by the way I stood up +to him. A little Roumanian girl, a pale, dark-eyed +creature, who was simply terrified of Sonnenthal, +like all the rest of them, came in to me afterwards +and threw her arms round my neck and thanked me +for having given him a lesson at last.</p> + +<p>"It was with very mixed feelings that I went on +that night for my first performance. The audience, +of course, was composed of all sorts, and the performers +were often interrupted by shouting, not +always of applause.</p> + +<p>"The house was full—it was packed. Sonnenthal +knew how to advertise a thing.</p> + +<p>"I gave them 'A Mountain Maid' to start with, +a touching little thing, and I put enough feeling into +it to move a stone, but not a hand was raised to +applaud. Then I tried 'Solveig's Song' from <i>Peer +Gynt</i>—that too was received with chilling silence.</p> + +<p>"When I came off after the first two, I could see +the others smiling maliciously: there's plenty of +jealousy in that line of business. But it set my blood +boiling, and I felt that irresistible impulse to go in and +do something desperate, as I always do when anything +gets in my way.</p> + +<p>"I rushed on again, and gave the word to the +orchestra for 'The Hungarian Gipsy,' a thing all +trills and yodelling and such-like trick work—a show +piece.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_64" id="Page_64" title="[Pg 64]"></a> +"I put all I knew into it this time, and yodelled +away till the audience left their beer-glasses untouched +on the tables—and that's saying a good deal with a +crowd like that.</p> + +<p>"When I finished, the hall rang with a thunder of +applause—everyone shouting and cheering. I had to +come before the curtain again and again. But I +wouldn't give them an encore that time. I thought +it best to have something in reserve, and not make +myself cheap like the others.</p> + +<p>"As I came off the last time, I couldn't help saying +half aloud what I thought of my respected audience—<em>clowns</em>!</p> + +<p>"But I'd found out how to handle them now, and +I gave them the stuff they wanted, and plenty of it. +I knew the sort of thing well enough. For years +they'd sat listening to the same type of short-skirted, +rouged and powdered womenfolk, with the same more +or less risky songs, the same antiquated kick-ups and +the same cheap favour in their eyes. I took care myself +always to appear as a lady, chose first-rate songs, +and, as my salary increased—for I drew Sonnenthal +gradually up the scale as I wished—I was able to dress +in a style that astonished them.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember when I sang 'The Carnival of +Venice'?"</p> + +<p>"Do I not! Saints alive, but you were a wonder +to see. Every evening, all the month I was there, +I came just to sit and look at you."</p> + +<p>"Listen, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps that's what I ought to say. Anyhow, +I know I strewed flowers enough at your feet +that winter, though they cost me a mark apiece."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_65" id="Page_65" title="[Pg 65]"></a> +"Yes, you were kind, I know. But do you remember +the dress I wore for that carnival thing? +The bodice all white roses, and red and yellow for the +skirt—it was a success—a sensation! 'Flowers in +spring' ah!"</p> + +<p>She rose to her feet, and took a step forward, singing +as she moved.</p> + +<p>"When I came to that part, they all wanted to +join in, but I had only to hold out my hand, so, and +all was quiet in a moment, you remember?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, you had a wonderful power over the +sterner sex; I felt it myself, I know. I swear I've +never been more completely head over ears before or +since."</p> + +<p>"Oh, nonsense, Mr. Holm," she protested, with a +hearty laugh, "we're past that sort of thing now, both +of us. But you were good to me then, and I shall +never forget it. I had enough and to spare in the way +of offers and attentions, not to speak of making +people furious because I always refused their invitation +to champagne suppers behind the scenes."</p> + +<p>"That was just what gave you the position and +influence you had, I think."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think it was. I know that all the time I +was there, yours was the only invitation I ever accepted, +because you were a fellow-countryman, and so kind +and considerate as well.</p> + +<p>"I remember as if it were yesterday that dinner at +the 'Pforte.' There was a pheasant, with big tail-feathers +large as life, do you remember? And when +we got to the coffee, you wanted to hear the story of +my life——"</p> + +<p>"And you were silent as an Egyptian mummy."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_66" id="Page_66" title="[Pg 66]"></a> +"My parents were still living then, Mr. Holm, and +I wished at least to spare them the sorrow of learning +that their daughter was performing on the music-hall +stage. Well, but I must go on.</p> + +<p>"Fortunately, you were the only fellow-countryman +I ever came in contact with while I was there; +and, of course, I kept my nationality a secret as far +as possible.</p> + +<p>"When the summer came, I was so sick and tired +of the life and the half-civilised surroundings, that I +threw it up, and went to Copenhagen. I had saved +enough by that time to keep me more or less comfortable +for a while at least. But there was one little +adventure I must tell about, before I left."</p> + +<p>"This is getting quite exciting," said Holm, changing +his seat and placing himself directly opposite her. +"Go on. I'm curious to know."</p> + +<p>"Well, I was as near as could be to becoming a +Countess."</p> + +<p>"Were you, though! How did it happen?"</p> + +<p>"It's not altogether exceptional, you know, in the +profession. But my little affair there is soon told. +One of my most devoted admirers was a tall middle-aged +man, well built, handsome, with dark hair and a +big moustache. He looked like a military man. He +was always most elegantly dressed, in a black frock-coat, +with the red ribbon of some Order in his buttonhole.</p> + +<p>"One evening, when I'd just finished dressing for +the 'Carnival of Venice' thing, a card was brought +in, bearing the name of Count—well, never mind his +name. It was the Count that did it, I'm afraid.</p> + +<p>"I invariably used to return cards brought in that<a class="pagenum" name="Page_67" id="Page_67" title="[Pg 67]"></a> +way, and take no notice. But this time I suppose my +vanity got the better of me for once, and I let him +come in.</p> + +<p>"He made me a most respectful bow, and handed +me a magnificent bouquet tied with ribbon in the +Italian colours. I was supposed to be from Milan, +you know. He spoke excellent French, and seemed +altogether a gentleman of the first water—or blood, +I suppose one would say.</p> + +<p>"He told me about his home, his estates and his +family affairs in the most simple and natural manner. +I could not help liking him a little from the first. He +was in Hamburg on business—some lawsuit or other—and +dropping into the place one evening to pass the +time, he could not help noticing me particularly.</p> + +<p>"He was not sparing of his compliments, I must +say; he praised me up to the skies, as an artist, of +course. My voice had astonished, delighted, enchanted +him, he told me so at once. And ended up by advising +me to try the opera stage—offered to help me himself +in every way possible, which, he said, might mean +something, as he had many influential friends in that +quarter. I told him, however, quite frankly, that I +was perfectly aware myself as to the qualifications +needed for operatic work, and had sense enough to +realise that I could never succeed in that way. He +was evidently surprised at my attitude, but I simply +thanked him for his kindness, and got rid of him then +for the time being. But he came again regularly +every evening, bringing me flowers, and at last he +made a formal proposal in the most charming manner, +laying his title, estates and all the rest of it at my +feet.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_68" id="Page_68" title="[Pg 68]"></a> +"It was tempting, of course, but thank goodness I +had always had a pretty fair share of common sense, +especially as I got older. I told him I regretted I did +not know him sufficiently well to take so serious a +step, but promised to think it over."</p> + +<p>"That was a plucky thing to do. There are not +many who would have taken it like that."</p> + +<p>"It was just plain common sense. The Count was +a little huffy, though, and hinted that he had expected +me to say yes on the spot.</p> + +<p>"This happened about a week before my engagement +was up, and I had already, as I told you, decided +to go to Copenhagen for a bit.</p> + +<p>"I must confess that there were moments when I +was weak enough to think seriously of accepting the +Count, but, fortunately, chance came to my help. +There was an old Catholic priest at the house where +I was staying, and I told him all about it. He undertook +to make inquiries about the Count, and a few +days after he had found out everything there was to +know. He <em>was</em> a Count right enough——"</p> + +<p>"No, really? I hadn't expected that."</p> + +<p>"Well, he was—but as poor as a church mouse! +He had been an officer in the army, and inherited an +ancient title and a castle with heavily encumbered +estates from his father, but squandered all there was +left in his youth; now he was a sort of travelling +inspector for an insurance company, and lived for the +rest by his wits."</p> + +<p>"And that was the end of the Count?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course; but, you see, I was very near +becoming a Countess."</p> + +<p>"And then you went to Copenhagen?"</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_69" id="Page_69" title="[Pg 69]"></a> +"Yes, and after that my story's simple enough. I +stayed there some years, teaching music and painting, +managed to get along comfortably enough. Betty +started going to school, and we were as happy as +could be."</p> + +<p>"But how did you manage to escape further offers +all that time in Copenhagen?</p> + +<p>"Oh, you seem to imagine I had nothing else to +think of but getting married. No, indeed, when one's +gone through as much as I have, one thinks twice +before venturing a second time. Well, as the years +went on, and being in Denmark and more in touch +with my own country, I began to long for home again. +I thought surely all would be forgotten by now, and +I should be able to make a living there. But it was +not so easy after all. I got a step nearer when I was +offered a post as teacher at a school in Gothenburg; +I stayed there five long years. I had already sent +Betty to board with a decent family in Norway, that +she might not grow up altogether a foreigner, and now +I was only waiting for the chance of coming home +myself.</p> + +<p>"My parents were dead. I had no relatives or +friends to come back to, and yet for all that I was +longing to be there again.</p> + +<p>"At last the day came; I shall never forget the +moment when we sighted the first glimpse of land. +It seemed as if all my years of exile had been a dream. +I felt myself full of life and strength and happiness, +and I vowed to make a new career for myself in my +own country.</p> + +<p>"I got a place as housekeeper to an old lawyer in +a little town on the coast, and lived there very comfortably<a class="pagenum" name="Page_70" id="Page_70" title="[Pg 70]"></a> +for a year; but it was too narrow, too confined, +so I moved to here—and here I am, doing what I can +to make life tolerable. I've my health and strength, +plenty of energy, and I'm very happy. And there you +have it all, Mr. Holm—the life story of Emilie Rantzau. +You can't say it's been an easy one altogether."</p> + +<p>"No indeed, and I admire you for the way you have +fought through so many handicaps and trials."</p> + +<p>"Thank Heaven, I've never lost my strength of will, +and now at last things seem to be getting brighter. +Betty's so happy here, and delighted with her place +at the office."</p> + +<p>"Not more than I am to have her, I assure you. +It's been like constant sunshine about the place since +she came."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, Mr. Holm, I hope you will keep my +secret as if it were your own. I have nothing to be +ashamed of in my past, but all the same I should not +like it to be known here as things are now."</p> + +<p>"You need have no fear of that, my dear lady, I +assure you. I only hope you may be happy here, and +feel yourself in every sense at home now you have +come back—and I'm sure you deserve it after the long +struggle you have had. But I must say it has not left +its mark on you, for you're charming enough to turn +the head of more than one respectable citizen in this +little town."</p> + +<p>"It's very kind of you to say so, but I think there's +no fear of that. By the way, I'm your daughter's +music-mistress, too. She seems very intelligent."</p> + +<p>"H'm, as to that ... to tell the truth, I wanted +to speak to you about her. I really don't know what +to do with the child lately, the way she goes on."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_71" id="Page_71" title="[Pg 71]"></a> +"Really—oh, but surely——"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you all about it, if I may?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, do."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's like this. My excellent son and heir, +you must know, was a decent enough lad to begin +with. But then he somehow got in with a whole +crowd of muddle-headed youths that call themselves +artists, poets and acrobats of that sort. H'm ... you +see, I'm a plain man myself, and to my mind the whole +thing's nothing better than sheer downright laziness. +They simply won't trouble to go in for any steady +solid work in life, but go on living on this artistic +humbug, as long as they can find anyone to provide +for them."</p> + +<p>"Like yourself, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly. I've done a good deal in that line—up +to now. Well, these young beauties have given the +lad the idea that he's the making of a great artist, +a budding Rubens at the least, whereas I'm convinced +he couldn't even turn out a presentable signboard. +And as for the girl, she's the coming Patti of her day, +nothing less.</p> + +<p>"I've raged about it, been as cross and discouraging +as could be, but precious little difference it makes. +No, they must be off to Paris, if you please, the pair +of them, on their own. And that's where I want you, +if you will, to help me stop their little game. Marie, +I know, looks up to you like a sort of Providence."</p> + +<p>"But really, Mr. Holm, she <em>has</em> talent, you know."</p> + +<p>"Talent be hanged. I don't care if she has. What +you've got to do is to tell her she's got a voice like +a sore-throated sheep—that's what I want. And as +for the boy, you can help me to cure him too, if you<a class="pagenum" name="Page_72" id="Page_72" title="[Pg 72]"></a> +only will. You've had some experience, you know, +in getting round the men; an old hand like you could +easily manage him, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"Really, Mr. Holm, that was a pretty compliment, +I must say."</p> + +<p>"It was honestly meant, anyhow; you needn't be +angry. Let's be frank with one another. We're old +friends, you know, after all, Bianca."</p> + +<p>"Holm, for Heaven's sake, <em>never</em>, never let that name +pass your lips again. Promise me!" she said, with +a glance of earnest entreaty.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, forgive me. May the devil cut out +my sinful tongue if ever I utter it again. It's the +most infernal nuisance, that tongue of mine, always +getting me into trouble one way or another, like an +alarm clock, you know, that goes off the moment you +come near it."</p> + +<p>"I'll do my best, Mr. Holm, to make your daughter +give up her idea of making a career in that way. As +a matter of fact, I should have said the same thing +even if you had not asked me."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, thanks. And the boy—how are we to +manage about him?"</p> + +<p>"We must think it over, each in our own way, and +see what can be done. There must be some way of +putting a stop to their running wild like that, especially +with two hardened old diplomatists like you and +myself working together."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure we can; and now I'll say good-bye. For +the present, at any rate, all we can do is to wait the +course of events, as the grocer said when his wife ran +off with the apprentice!"</p> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_73" id="Page_73" title="[Pg 73]"></a></p> +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI<br /> +"REBECCA AND THE CAMELS"</h2> + + +<p>On the day after Holm had been up to Mrs. +Rantzau, William and Marie came into the +office. Each wore an air of serious importance, +and Holm at once suspected something in the +wind.</p> + +<p>"Father, we want to read you something. It's +from an article in the paper."</p> + +<p>"Right you are, my boy—go ahead!"</p> + +<p>"It's about that picture of mine, the big one of +'Rebecca and the Camels,' that's on exhibition now +in Christiania."</p> + +<p>"What's she doing with the camels?"</p> + +<p>"Giving them water."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see. Watering the camelias; yes, go +on."</p> + +<p>"Father, I don't think it's nice of you always to be +making fun of William," put in Marie.</p> + +<p>"Making fun? Not a bit of it, my dear offspring, +I'm highly interested."</p> + +<p>"Don't you want to hear what the papers say about +my work?"</p> + +<p>"That's just what I'm waiting for, if you'll only +begin."</p> + +<p>William opened the paper and read out solemnly:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_74" id="Page_74" title="[Pg 74]"></a> +<p>"This large canvas, 'Rebecca and the Camels,' is +the work of that promising young painter, William +Holm.</p> + +<p>"The most surprising feature of the picture, at a +first glance, is the courage and self-confidence displayed +by this young artist in handling so lofty a +theme.</p> + +<p>"Naturally, some of the details are not altogether +happy in their execution, but, taken as a whole, one +cannot but admit that it is a real work of art, and the +country may be congratulated on adding a fresh +name to the roll of its talented artists.</p> + +<p>"With the further study which, we understand, he +is shortly about to undertake in Paris, William Holm +should have a great future before him."</p></div> + +<p>"Very nice, my son, very pretty indeed. And +I suppose it's your pet particular friend, Listad, +who wrote it? Does credit to his imagination, I'm +sure."</p> + +<p>"It was written by a critic of ability and understanding."</p> + +<p>"It would be, of course."</p> + +<p>"And after that you surely can't have any objection +to our going to Paris?"</p> + +<p>"We should like to go at once, papa," added Marie.</p> + +<p>"I dare say you would. But I think we ought to +have a little more conclusive proof of your talent +first. Well, I will make you an offer. William, you +can send your picture to Copenhagen, and have it +exhibited there anonymously: then we will abide by +what the critics say. <a class="corr" name="TC_1" id="TC_1" title="It">If</a> it's good, why, I give in; if +it's slated, then you agree to start work in the office<a class="pagenum" name="Page_75" id="Page_75" title="[Pg 75]"></a> +here with me forthwith, and leave your paint-pots +till your leisure, to amuse yourself and your friends +apart from your work with me.</p> + +<p>"And you, Marie, you can tell your music-mistress, +Mrs. Rantzau, that you are seriously thinking of +going to the opera, and ask her candid opinion of +your prospects. If she advises you to do so, well and +good, you shall go to Paris; if not, then you stay at +home and begin to learn house-keeping like any other +young woman. Isn't that fair?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's fair enough," said William. "I'm not +afraid of what the Copenhagen critics will say."</p> + +<p>"And I know Mrs. Rantzau will tell me I ought to +go on."</p> + +<p>As soon as they had gone, Holm stole off quietly +to Mrs. Rantzau and told her all that had passed.</p> + +<p>The young people started on their packing at once, +Marie in particular was busily occupied in completing +her wardrobe. A new travelling-dress was ordered, +and various purchases made.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think it would be better to wait until +we have heard the decision of the authorities<span class="sic" title="[sic]">,</span>" suggested +Holm.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I shall hear from Mrs. Rantzau to-morrow," +said Marie. "And it doesn't really matter, does it, +if you don't get the answer till after I've gone?"</p> + +<p>"H'm, I think I'd rather have it settled first, if +it's all the same to you."</p> + +<p>A week passed, however, and every day Marie had +to try over again with Mrs. Rantzau; strange how +particular she was now!</p> + +<p>William had sent off his picture to Copenhagen, +and was all anxiety to learn what had been said about<a class="pagenum" name="Page_76" id="Page_76" title="[Pg 76]"></a> +it. The dealer had been instructed to send him press +cuttings as soon as they appeared.</p> + +<p>On Saturday morning, when Holm went up into the +drawing-room, he found the pair very subdued. +William was in the smoking-room, which was in +darkness, looking out of the window, and Marie lay +on the sofa in tears.</p> + +<p>On the table lay an open letter from Mrs. Rantzau, +as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Miss Holm</span>,—I have for the past week +carefully and conscientiously tested your voice in +order to give my verdict without hesitation as to your +chances of making a career as a singer.</p> + +<p>"I regret that as a result I can only advise you +most seriously to relinquish the idea.</p> + +<p>"You have certainly a pleasing voice, but its +compass is only slight, and would never be sufficiently +powerful for concert work.</p> + +<p class="b0">"By all means continue your training, you will +find it worth while, and your voice might be a source +of pleasure to your home circle and friends. I am +sure you will be a thousand times happier in that way +than in entering upon a career which could only lead +to disappointment.—Sincerely yours,</p> + +<p class="sig"> +"<span class="smcap">Emilie Rantzau</span>."<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<p>Holm read the letter, and went over to Marie.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, my child; you shall go to Paris all +right, but we'll go together this time, for a holiday."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm so miserable—hu, hu!"</p> + +<p>"It won't be for long." And Holm sat comforting +her as well as he could, until at last she went out of<a class="pagenum" name="Page_77" id="Page_77" title="[Pg 77]"></a> +her own accord to lay the table for supper—a thing +she had not troubled to do for a long time.</p> + +<p>"Aha," thought Holm, "things are looking up a +bit."</p> + +<p>It was not a particularly cheerful meal, however, +and William went off to his own room as soon as it +was over.</p> + +<p>A few days later a bundle of newspapers arrived +by post from Copenhagen. William took the parcel +with a trembling hand, and hurried off to his room to +read them.</p> + +<p>Not a word about "Rebecca and the Camels," +beyond the dealer's advertisement of the exhibition. +Ah, yes, here was something at last. And he read +through the following, from one of the morning papers:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="bqheading b0">"<span class="smcap">Norwegian Camels</span>"</p> + +<p>"A decidedly humorous work of art has been on +exhibition here the last few days.</p> + +<p>"We have rarely seen visitors to the gallery so +amused as were the groups that gathered before the +large-sized canvas indicated as representing 'Rebecca +and the Camels.'</p> + +<p>"The young lady with the water-jug appears to be +suffering from a pronounced gumboil, and is evidently +utterly bored with her task of acting as barmaid to +the camels; which latter, be it stated, are certainly +but distantly related, if at all, to the honourable +family of that name as represented in our Zoological +Gardens.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, we have it on good authority that a +formal protest will shortly be lodged by the family +in question against the unrightful adoption of a distinguished<a class="pagenum" name="Page_78" id="Page_78" title="[Pg 78]"></a> +name by these monstrosities; the dromedaries, +too, albeit less directly concerned, are anxious +to disclaim any relationship.</p> + +<p>"As for the setting, it must be admitted that the +sky is undoubtedly as blue as anyone could wish, +while cactus and cabbage grow luxuriantly about the +hoofs of the so-called camels.</p> + +<p>"Such unfettered and original humour is rare in +Norwegian art; we are more accustomed to works +of serious and mystic significance from that quarter. +Presumably, the painting in question represents a new +school, and we can only congratulate the country on +the possession of so promising a young artist."</p></div> + +<p>William turned very pale as he read. Then, taking +up the bundle of papers, he thrust the whole collection +into the stove, and began nervously walking up +and down.</p> + +<p>An hour later he went downstairs to the office, and +took his seat at the desk, opposite Miss Rantzau.</p> + +<p>Just then Holm entered from the shop. He made +no remarks, but put on his coat and went down to +the waterside, where he found Bramsen sitting in a +corner, looking troubled and unhappy.</p> + +<p>"Why, what's the matter, Bramsen?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lord, everything's going contrariwise, it +seems."</p> + +<p>"Why, what's happened?"</p> + +<p>"Well, there's Andrine gone and joined the Salvation +Army, with a hat like <em>that</em>!" And he made +a descriptive motion of his hands to his ears.</p> + +<p>"The devil she has!"</p> + +<p>"Ay, you may well say that. Downhill's better<a class="pagenum" name="Page_79" id="Page_79" title="[Pg 79]"></a> +than up, as the man said when he fell over the cliff. +But," and he sighed, "it never rains but it pours. +Amande's gone and got laid up too."</p> + +<p>"Amande? Poor child! What's wrong with +her?"</p> + +<p>"Doctor says she's got tulips or something in her +ears."</p> + +<p>"Polypi, I suppose you mean."</p> + +<p>"Well, something of that sort, anyway."</p> + +<p>"Sorry to hear that, Bramsen. And I'd just come +down to tell you how splendid I was feeling myself; +haven't been so happy for years. What do you +think! William's started work at the office, and Marie's +given up the singing business. Isn't that a surprise?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, that it is. Never have thought it—as the +old maid said when a young man kissed her on the +stairs. I'm glad to hear it, though—they've been +pretty average troublesome up to now."</p> + +<p>"I should say so. Well, let's hope Andrine will +come to her senses as well, after a bit."</p> + +<p>"She must have got it pretty badly, I tell you, +Knut. Why, only this morning if she didn't hand +me over the savings-bank book, said she'd given +up all thoughts of worldly mammon for good." And +Bramsen drew out the book from his pocket.</p> + +<p>"What do you say to that, £130, 16s. 2d. She must +have been a wonder to put by all that."</p> + +<p>"You're right there, Bramsen; she must be a born +manager."</p> + +<p>"And now I'm going to try a steamboat. There's +one I know of that's for sale, the <i>Patriot</i>, and I believe +it's a bargain."</p> + +<p>"Don't you go doing anything foolish now, Bramsen;<a class="pagenum" name="Page_80" id="Page_80" title="[Pg 80]"></a> +you're comfortably off as you are, and if you want +more wages, why, you've only got to say so."</p> + +<p>"No, thanks, Knut. I'm earning well enough, and +doing first-rate all round. But it's the freedom I +want, to set out on my own again."</p> + +<p>"Well, you could take a run down the fjord on +one of the coasting steamers any time you like."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but it's not the same. Look at that fellow +Johnsen now, with the <i>Rap</i> hauling away with all +sorts of craft, for all he drinks like a fish. Only last +year he went on board so properly overloaded, he fell +down the hold and smashed a couple of ribs."</p> + +<p>"And you want to go and do likewise? You're a +long sight better off where you are, if you ask me, +Bramsen."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll think it over, Knut. As long as I've +got all this worldly mammon in my inside pocket, +I feel like doing things with it. And there's no +knowing but Andrine might get converted back again +any day and want it back—and where'd I be then?"</p> + +<p>"H'm. I hope you'll have her back again the +same as ever, before long."</p> + +<p>"Why, as to that, I hope so too, and that's the +truth. But that's the more reason not to lose the +chance now she's taken that way. I've thought of +trying a share in a vessel too. There's Olsen, skipper +of the <i>Baron Holberg</i>. You must know Olsen, I'm +sure—fellow with a red beard—Baron Olsen, they +call him. He offered me a fourth share in the brig +for £65."</p> + +<p>Bramsen livened up after a while, and the two +friends were soon chatting away in their usual cheery +fashion.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_81" id="Page_81" title="[Pg 81]"></a> +"What would you say to me marrying again, +Bramsen?"</p> + +<p>Bramsen sat without moving for a while, then took +out his clasp-knife and began whittling at a splinter +of wood.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you say?</p> + +<p>"I'd say it's a risky thing to do."</p> + +<p>"It generally is, I suppose, but it's always turned +out all right up to now."</p> + +<p>"You've had a deal of truck with the womenfolk +in your time, Knut. Got a way of managing them +somehow. Seems to me you start off with being sort +of friendly with them in a general way, and then they +get to running after you and want to marry you +straight away. Ay, you've a sort of way of your own +with the women for sure. Me being a simple sort of +an individual, it's the other way round—why, I had +to ask Andrine three times before she'd have me. +Would you believe it, she was as near as could be to +taking John Isaksen, that's built like a telegraph post, +and never a tooth in his mouth, so he was that afraid +of crusts they called him Crusty John."</p> + +<p>"Well, women are queer cattle, you're right in +that."</p> + +<p>"Ay, that they are. Like a bit of clockwork inside, +all odd bits of wheels and screws and things, little and +big, some turning this way and some that. And the +mainspring, as you might say, that's love, and that's +why there's some goes too fast, by reason of the +mainspring being stronger than it should, and others +taking it easy like, and going slow...."</p> + +<p>"And some that stop altogether."</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, till they get a new mainspring and start<a class="pagenum" name="Page_82" id="Page_82" title="[Pg 82]"></a> +going again. If not, why, they're done for, that's +all."</p> + +<p>"You've a neat way of putting it, Bramsen. Like +a parable."</p> + +<p>"And then they're mostly cased up smart and +fine, and we wear them mostly near our hearts——"</p> + +<p>"Bravo! Right again!"</p> + +<p>"Well, now, begging your pardon, Knut, might I +be so bold as to ask if it's a widow you've got your +eye on this time?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, my dear fellow, it's not."</p> + +<p>"Good for you, Knut. I've never cared much for +second-hand goods myself, there's always something +wrong with them somewhere, and they soon go to +bits."</p> + +<p>"You're not far out either. I like them new +myself."</p> + +<p>"But I was going to tell you, I'd a rare time of +it here the other day. You've maybe heard about +me gammoning the youngsters down here—ay, and +others too for that matter, simple folk like Garner, for +instance—that I could talk Chinese through having +picked up the lingo the five years I was on board the +<i>Albatros</i> in the China Seas?"</p> + +<p>And, by way of illustration, Bramsen showed his +eyes round sideways, screwed up his mouth and +uttered the following syllables: "Hi—ho—fang—chu—ka—me—lang—poh—poh—ku!"</p> + +<p>Holm laughed till he had to sit down on a barrel. +Bramsen was in his element now; Andrine and the +Salvation Army, Amanda and her tulips, were forgotten.</p> + +<p>"Well, the day before yesterday, while I was stacking<a class="pagenum" name="Page_83" id="Page_83" title="[Pg 83]"></a> +fish up in the loft, in comes an old gentleman, sort of +learned and reverend looking he was.</p> + +<p>"'Mr. Paal Abrahamsen?' says he, and looks at +me solemn-like through a pair of blue spectacles.</p> + +<p>"'That's me, your Highness,' says I, for I judged +he must be something pretty high. Then he puts +down his stick, a mighty fine one with a silver top, +and opens a big book.</p> + +<p>"Aha, thinks I to myself, it'll be the census, that's +it. For you know there's been all this business about +taking people's census ever since New Year. Well, +if he wanted my census, I was agreeable, so I started +away polite as could be:</p> + +<p>"'Surname and Christian names, married or single, +and so on, that's what you'll be wanting,' says I.</p> + +<p>"'No, my friend,' says he, 'I only called to inquire—you +speak Chinese, I understand. Several years in +the country, were you not?'</p> + +<p>"Well, I reckoned he couldn't be a Chinaman himself. +I gave a squint up under his spectacles to see +if his eyes were slantywise, but they were all right.</p> + +<p>"'H'm,' says I, 'I know a little, but it's nothing +much. Not worth counting, really.'</p> + +<p>"'Don't be afraid, my good man. It was just a +few simple words and phrases in the language I'd very +much like to ask about. My name is'—well, it was +Professor something or other—Birk or Cork or Stork +or something—'from Christiania,' he said.</p> + +<p>"'Well,' thinks I to myself, 'it doesn't look as if he +knew much more than I do myself. I may bluff him +yet.' And we squatted down on a barrel apiece, with +an empty sugar-box between us for a table.</p> + +<p>"'Mr. Abrahamsen,' says he, 'if you'd kindly<a class="pagenum" name="Page_84" id="Page_84" title="[Pg 84]"></a> +repeat a sentence, anything you like, in Chinese.' And +he takes up a grand gold pencil-case and starts to +write in the book.</p> + +<p>"'Aha,' thought I, 'now we're sitting to the hardest +part,' as the miller said when he got to the eighth +commandment. Anyhow, here goes. And I rattles +off, solemn-like: 'Me—hoh—puh—fih—chu—lang—ra—ta—ta—poh—uh—ee—lee—shung—la—uh—uh—uh!' +And down it all goes in his book like winking.</p> + +<p>"'Very good, very good. And now, what does it +mean?'</p> + +<p>"'What it means——' Well, that was a nasty +one, as you can imagine. Funny thing, but I'd never +thought about that. 'Mean—why—well, it means—H'm. +Why, it's as much as to say—well, it's a sort +of—sort of national anthem, as you might call it. +<i>Sons of China's Ancient Land.</i> Not quite that exactly, +but something like it, you understand. Chinese is—well, +it's different, you know.'</p> + +<p>"He looked at me pretty sharply under his glasses, +but I stood my ground and never winked a muscle. +And then, bless me if he wasn't mean enough to ask +me to say it all over again.</p> + +<p>"Well, I could have stood on my head in the dark +easier than remember what it was I'd said before. +So I puts on an air, superior-like, and says to him:</p> + +<p>"'Wait a bit, it's your turn now. Let's see if you +can manage it first.'</p> + +<p>"'Well, my good sir, to begin with, <i>Sons of Norway's +Ancient Land</i> is a sort of national anthem if you like, +but I hardly think it's been translated into Chinese. +And in the second place, the word for <em>sons</em> is "Yung-li," +not "Me-hoh," as you said.'</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_85" id="Page_85" title="[Pg 85]"></a> +"'Beg pardon, Professor, but there's different +dialectrics out there, same as here: some talks northland +and some westland fashion, not to speak of shorthand, +and it's all as different as light and dark.'</p> + +<p>"Well, as luck would have it, that set him laughing, +and he shuts up the big book and tucks away the pencil +in his waistcoat pocket. And he thanks me most +politely for the information.</p> + +<p>"'You're very welcome, I'm sure,' says I. 'Ah—dec—oh—oh—shung—la—la—poh!'</p> + +<p>"But if we ever get another of that learned sort +along, why, I'm going to tell them Paal Abrahamsen's +dead and gone, poor lad, and can't talk Chinese any +more. I never was much good at these examinations."</p> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_86" id="Page_86" title="[Pg 86]"></a></p> +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII<br /> +HOLM & SON</h2> + + +<p>There was a marked change in the office now. +Every day, when Holm came in, he would +find William seated at his desk, opposite Miss +Betty. Early and late, William was always there, +working away to all appearance like a steam engine. +This in itself was excellent, of course, but, on the other +hand, it destroyed all chance of a comfortable chat +with Betty <i lang="fr">tête-à-tête</i>. And every day Holm felt +more and more convinced that Betty and he were +made for one another. Or at least that Betty was +made for him.</p> + +<p>"You must get the hang of the outside business +too, my son," he observed one day. "Down at the +waterside, for instance, there's a lot needs looking +after there."</p> + +<p>"Yes, father," said William respectfully, "but I +want to get thoroughly into the bookkeeping first, +and Miss Rantzau is helping me."</p> + +<p>There was nothing to be said to this, of course, but +it was annoying, to say the least. And Holm senior, +thinking matters over in his leisure hours, would say +to himself:</p> + +<p>"Knut, my boy, you've been a considerable fool. +You should have sent the youngsters off to Paris<a class="pagenum" name="Page_87" id="Page_87" title="[Pg 87]"></a> +as they wanted, then you could have fixed things +up here in your own fashion while they were +away."</p> + +<p>The thought that William might enter the lists +against him as a rival for Betty's favour never occurred +to him, however, until one day when Broker Vindt +came round and found his friend Holm standing +behind the counter in the shop, with William in possession +of the inner office.</p> + +<p>Vindt was the generally recognised and accredited +jester of the town; there was nothing he would not +find a way of poking fun at, and even Banker Hermansen +had smilingly to submit to his witticisms.</p> + +<p>Vindt was an old bachelor, a dried-up, lanky figure +of a man, with a broad-brimmed felt hat set on his +smooth black wig and a little florid face with a sharp +nose.</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, Holm," he began, "would you mind +asking if the senior partner's disengaged for a +moment?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, go to the devil!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I was thinking of taking a holiday somewhere—and +I dare say he'd put me up. Better than +nothing, as the parson said when he found a button +in the offertory box. You might say the same, you +know; be thankful he's keeping you on at all."</p> + +<p>"It's a good thing, if you ask me, to see young +people doing something nowadays."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my boy, it all depends <em>what</em> they're doing! +Apropos, the other young person in there, is she to +be taken into partnership as well? Deuced pretty +girl that, Holm."</p> + +<p>"Vindt, you're incorrigible. Come upstairs and<a class="pagenum" name="Page_88" id="Page_88" title="[Pg 88]"></a> +have a glass of wine. I've got some fine '52 +Madeira...."</p> + +<p>"Started as early as that, did you? No, thanks +all the same. I think I'll wait till the little Donna +inside there's moved upstairs for good, then perhaps +we may get a look in at the office again some day."</p> + +<p>And Vindt strode out of the shop. Crossing the +square, he met Hermansen, who had just come from +the repair shops, where the Spaniard was being overhauled. +The only part of her hull that could be considered +sound consisted of a few plates at the after +end. Wherefore Vindt naturally offered his congratulations, +"All's well that ends well, eh, what?"</p> + +<p>The banker swallowed the pill without wincing, and +merely observed:</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's an unsatisfactory business, patching up +old wrecks. Apropos, Vindt, how's the gout getting +on? Going anywhere for a cure this summer?"</p> + +<p>"Can't afford it, I'm afraid. Bills for repairing +wrecks, you know, are apt to be a bit heavy when +they come in."</p> + +<p>Hermansen gave it up after that, but he was considerably +annoyed when he returned to the bank, as +Petersen, the cashier, could see from the way he flung +down his gloves and hat—it was rarely the banker +showed so much irritation.</p> + +<p>Meantime, Holm was thinking over what Vindt had +said. "Wait till the little Donna's moved upstairs +for good...." Now what on earth did he mean by +that? Vindt could not possibly have any idea that +he, Knut Holm, was contemplating marriage. William +and Betty, then? Nonsense—the idea was preposterous; +it certainly could never have entered his<a class="pagenum" name="Page_89" id="Page_89" title="[Pg 89]"></a> +head, far less Vindt's. Still, it was certainly queer, +the way the boy stuck to the office and never stirred +out....<span class="corr" title='removed: "'></span></p> + +<p>In days past it had been impossible to keep him +at the desk for an hour on end; now, he hung over +the books as if he were nailed to the stool.</p> + +<p>"Anyhow, we'll make an end of it some way or other. +I'm not going to sit here and be made a fool of."</p> + +<p>And Holm went into the inner office. By a rare +chance, William had gone out, and he found Betty +alone.</p> + +<p>The girl had her mother's irresistible charm. Not +so handsome, true, but of a gentler type, thought +Holm to himself as he looked at the fresh young face.</p> + +<p>And that fair curling hair of hers went splendidly +with the dark eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"You're working too hard; you mustn't overdo it, +you know," he said kindly.</p> + +<p>"Not the least bit, really; I like it. I've quite +fallen in love with the big ledger here, it's such a nice +comfortable old-fashioned thing."</p> + +<p>"So you like old-fashioned things? Perhaps you +would include me in the category of old?"</p> + +<p>"You, Mr. Holm! Of course not. Why, you're just +in the prime of life."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, I hope so. But what would you say, +now, if a man—in the prime of life—were to say to +you, My dear Miss Betty, will you come and help to +brighten up my home? You're too good to wear +yourself out with working in an office, when you might +be filling a man's life with comfort and content."</p> + +<p>Betty got down from her stool and stood looking +at him in astonishment<span class="corr" title="added: .">.</span></p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_90" id="Page_90" title="[Pg 90]"></a> +"Really, Mr. Holm, I don't know what you +mean!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know I'm much older than you, Miss Betty, +but my heart's as young as ever, and I can offer you a +good home and devoted affection, better, perhaps, than +you would find elsewhere."</p> + +<p>He placed himself opposite her and endeavoured +to meet her eyes, but she took refuge behind the +ledger, and would not look up.</p> + +<p>"I've seen ups and downs in my time, Miss Betty, +and learned a good deal of life; you won't find me +such a poor support to lean on."</p> + +<p>"Oh, please, Mr. Holm, please don't say any more. +I—I must go home now, mama will be waiting...." +She broke off, and began hurriedly and nervously +putting on her things.</p> + +<p>Holm put out his hand and held hers a moment or +two, then she ran out, and soon her light, firm step +had passed out of hearing.</p> + +<p>Holm was annoyed.</p> + +<p>"H'm, you're out of practice, that's what it is. +Getting old. Shouldn't have sprung it on her suddenly +like that. Never flurry a turtle dove; slips out of the +ark if you do, and never comes back. But you don't +see Knut Holm giving up the game for a little thing +like that; no, we must get <a class="corr" name="TC_2" id="TC_2" title="out">our</a> old friend Bianca to +lend a hand. She's sensible enough to know a good +son-in-law when she sees one."</p> + +<p>Next morning, when Betty arrived at the office, Holm +went along to call on Mrs. Rantzau; it was to her he +must now look for help.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rantzau grew very serious when Holm enlightened +her as to his feelings for Betty. She pointed<a class="pagenum" name="Page_91" id="Page_91" title="[Pg 91]"></a> +out at once the great difference in their ages, and was +very doubtful on that head. Nevertheless, she undertook +to speak to Betty herself.</p> + +<p>She could not but admit that the offer was a tempting +one and that Betty's future would be assured—which +to a woman in her position was important +enough. She would in any case give the matter her +most earnest consideration.</p> + +<p>Holm took all this to mean that Mrs. Rantzau herself +was not disinclined to approve of the idea, but +that it would take time to get it settled.</p> + +<p>He felt more cheerful now, and hoped for victory in +the end. Mrs. Rantzau, he was convinced, would use +her utmost influence with her daughter, though of +course they would think it looked better not to accept +at once!</p> + +<p>On returning to the office he fancied Betty was more +than usually friendly, and came to the conclusion +that she had perhaps begun to think more seriously +over the matter.</p> + +<p>In order to prepare the children in any case, he +thought it best to take William into his confidence, +without further delay, as to his intention of marrying +again. William was accordingly asked to come upstairs.</p> + +<p>When they entered the drawing-room Holm locked +the door, and motioned William to a seat on the sofa +beside him.</p> + +<p>"But what on earth are you making all this mystery +about, old man?" said William.</p> + +<p>"Old, did you say? You might be thankful, my +boy, if you were as youthful as I am."</p> + +<p>"Why, what's the matter now?"</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_92" id="Page_92" title="[Pg 92]"></a> +"I want to speak to you seriously, my son. For +seventeen years now I have been a lone, lone man...."</p> + +<p>"Seventeen years?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I said. It's seventeen years now +since Mrs. Gronlund died. But what is time? A +mere trifle. Anyhow, I'm getting tired of this lonely +life."</p> + +<p>"Very natural, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"And I have therefore resolved to marry again."</p> + +<p>"Have you, though? Good idea."</p> + +<p>"Yes; don't you think so? And I have decided +to take a wife who is first of all a good-hearted and +domesticated woman, but at the same time one +who will be able to brighten up the home."</p> + +<p>"Excellent! I quite agree. A sound and healthy +man of your type should certainly marry as soon as +opportunity occurs. And I don't mind saying that +the life we two have led here all these years hasn't +exactly been an ideal existence."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not—though you might have been worse +off. However, now that I am about to bring home +a bride for the third——"</p> + +<p>"And last time?"</p> + +<p>"—I cannot but feel a certain emotion in saying to +you, my son, as I do now: look up to her as a mother, +love her as she deserves, for she is a woman in a +thousand."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure, father, you could not have made a +better choice. Mrs. Rantzau is, I believe, an excellent +woman."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Rantzau! What on earth are you talking +about?"</p> + +<p>"Why, isn't it her you mean? Both Marie and I<a class="pagenum" name="Page_93" id="Page_93" title="[Pg 93]"></a> +have noticed you've been visiting her pretty often +of late."</p> + +<p>"Me—to marry a woman that age!"</p> + +<p>"But she must be much younger than you!"</p> + +<p>"Oh—that's different. Men can marry at any age +and keep on marrying."</p> + +<p>"But who is the favoured one, then?"</p> + +<p>"The favoured one, as you are pleased to call her, +is Miss Betty——"</p> + +<p>"Betty! <em>You</em> marry Betty Rantzau?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; don't you think it's a good idea? Suit us +all round."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's ridiculous, impossible!"</p> + +<p>"And why, may I ask?"</p> + +<p>"Well, to begin with, Betty won't have you, and, +besides——"</p> + +<p>"Well...?"</p> + +<p>"Betty belongs to me!"</p> + +<p>Holm jumped up from the sofa, and stood facing +William, who sat quietly and calmly as ever.</p> + +<p>"William—I should never have expected this of you. +H'm, I've borne with a good deal, one way and another, +and had a lot of low-down tricks played on me in my +time, but this...."</p> + +<p>"Betty's the only woman I've ever cared for, father; +from the first time I set eyes on her I've...."</p> + +<p>"A passing fancy, nothing more. A few weeks' +holiday in Paris, and you'll have forgotten all about +it."</p> + +<p>"There you're mistaken. I'm serious for once."</p> + +<p>"And I'm serious too. And this time I'm not +going to give in."</p> + +<p>Holm turned sharply on his heel and went down to<a class="pagenum" name="Page_94" id="Page_94" title="[Pg 94]"></a> +the office. He had expected to find Betty there, but +she was out. On the desk lay a note, in her writing, +asking to be excused for leaving the office; she was not +feeling well, and had gone home.</p> + +<p>He strode up and down in great agitation. Knut +Holm was thoroughly angry now.</p> + +<p>His own son as a rival! Was there ever such a +ridiculous state of things? If Vindt got any inkling +of the situation, there would be no end to the gossip +he would make of it—it would be impossible to remain +in the place.</p> + +<p>Give way at once, and submit? No, that was not +Knut Holm's way. And indeed, the very thought +made him feel miserable at heart, for he had grown +really fond of Betty.</p> + +<p>Well, let her choose for herself, that was the best +way. She and her mother could work it out together, +and see which looked most like business.</p> + +<p>He went down to the waterside to hunt up Bramsen; +in times of real difficulty, when he felt uncertain how +to act, it was always helpful to spend an hour listening +to Bramsen's honest and genial talk.</p> + +<p>Up in the loft he found Bramsen, lying at his ease +on a couple of coffee-bags, studying a telegram.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, Bramsen, what are you up to now?"</p> + +<p>Bramsen half rose, and sat holding one hand to his +forehead, waving the telegram in the other.</p> + +<p>"Well, if this isn't the queerest...."</p> + +<p>"There's a deal of queer things about just lately. +What's happening now?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you know I told you how I'd got all that +worldly out of Andrine, when she joined the Salvation +Army?"</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_95" id="Page_95" title="[Pg 95]"></a> +"Well, has she come to her senses again?"</p> + +<p>"Getting on that way, anyhow. It was just as I +thought. When she got up this morning she began +sort of throwing out hints that I'd better let her have +the bank-book again after all."</p> + +<p>"Aha, that looks like coming round."</p> + +<p>"Well, you can guess I'd been expecting something +of the sort, and so I started in a little speculation while +there was time."</p> + +<p>"Not trying steamboats, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"No, no. But I got wind of a good thing in another +way altogether. You know Johnsen I told you +about?"</p> + +<p>"Bramsen, don't tell me you've got mixed up in +any sort of deal with that drunken old fool?"</p> + +<p>"Drunk? He's as right as can be now. Turned +teetotal, and made some money too. Any amount. +Well, last week he came along to me and said he and +Baron Olsen had gone shares and bought up a boat +that was lying at Strandvik—<i>Erik</i> was the name. +They'd got her dirt cheap, but they'd let me come in +for a third share, and be managing owner, with Johnsen +as skipper. Well, I agreed. The <i>Erik</i> went off last +week, and now here comes a telegram from some place +called Havre; but it's a queer sort of message. I can't +make head or tail of it myself. Here, see what it says: +'Drink dock yesterday.—<span class="smcap">Johnsen</span>.' Drunk in dock, +if you ask me—and him a teetot'lar and all!"</p> + +<p>Holm took the telegram and read it over, but could +make nothing of it. "Drink dock yesterday" was all +it said.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's something to do with drink, anyway, +by the look of it—whether he means he got drunk in<a class="pagenum" name="Page_96" id="Page_96" title="[Pg 96]"></a> +dock, or drank the dock dry to be out of temptation, +he's probably got delirium tremens by this time, and +drunk the ship as well."</p> + +<p>"Holm—you don't think he's gone off the rails +again—honestly?" Bramsen jumped up from his +couch and stood aghast.</p> + +<p>"Well, whatever did you want to be such a fool +for, Bramsen? Managing owner indeed—why, you've +no more idea of managing than those coffee-bags."</p> + +<p>"Ho, haven't I? And me been round the Horn +and Cape of Good Hope as well, and nearly eaten by +crocodiles in Bahia, dead of yellow fever, and all but +burned in Rio, an ear with frostbite in the Arctic, +been shooting monkeys in Mozambique."</p> + +<p>"Monkey yourself, if you ask me."</p> + +<p>"That may be; but, anyhow, you can't say I don't +know anything about shipping. Your smart shipowners +sitting all day in their offices and looking out +places on the map, you suppose they know more about +it than me that's been thirty years navigating on my +own all over the torrential globe. I'm not good enough +to manage a bit of a ship myself, eh? I'm a plain +man, I know, but I'm no fool for all that, and I don't +see what call you've got to go throwing wet blankets +on all my deals and doings anyhow."</p> + +<p>Bramsen was thoroughly offended now, and Holm +found it difficult to bring him round.</p> + +<p>"It's not that, Bramsen; you know I don't mean +it that way. But I do think it's foolish of you to +entrust your property to an irresponsible fellow like +Johnsen."</p> + +<p>"Well, what's a man to do when everything's going +by the board all round? Ay, it's other little matters +that's the trouble as well. I don't mind telling you,<a class="pagenum" name="Page_97" id="Page_97" title="[Pg 97]"></a> +Knut, but, flay and fester me, you must swear you +won't say a word to a soul."</p> + +<p>"You know I can keep a secret, Bramsen."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's this way. Armanda's only just been +confirmed, and, would you believe it, if the girl hasn't +gone and got engaged already, with Johnsen's son; +Carljohan's his name, and a devilish smart lad too. +I know he failed for his mate's certificate this year, +but after all that doesn't go for much, for he can walk +on his hands as easy as his feet, and he's as nimble as +a squirrel up aloft."</p> + +<p>"But have you given your consent?"</p> + +<p>"Consent?" Bramsen stared in astonishment. +"Consent? They never asked for it, and I never +asked myself—how should I? I'd never have done +anything but ask for consent all the times I was engaged, +and then, what about you? Have you asked anyone's +consent?"</p> + +<p>"No, but...."</p> + +<p>"Well, there you are! Anyhow, we had a sort of +celebration party up at home one evening when Andrine +was gone to meeting. Take my word for it, but old +Johnsen was a bit sore that night; and wishing he'd +never gone in for teetotalling! But the rest of us had +a fine uproarious time of it, and I tried my hand with +young Carljohan at one or two little wrestling tricks. +Aha, he's a good one, but he'll need to learn a bit more +before he can get over me. There's a dodge or two I +learned from a Mulatto on the coast of Brazil many +years ago...."</p> + +<p>"But what's all this got to do with the boat?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you see, Armanda says Carljohan must get +a berth as skipper, so we must use the chance, while +her mother's all Salvationing, to get hold of a share<a class="pagenum" name="Page_98" id="Page_98" title="[Pg 98]"></a> +in a vessel, put in old Johnsen as skipper at first, +and let the youngster take it on after.... See?"</p> + +<p>"Oho! Women again, Bramsen, what?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, they do us every time, and that's the truth. +But we can't get on without them all the same. Like +pepper in the soup—gets you in the throat now and +again, but it gives you an appetite."</p> + +<p>Bramsen had by now almost forgotten the telegram; +he grew serious again, however, as it caught his eye.</p> + +<p>"'Drink dock yesterday—drink dock....'" he +scratched his whiskers and muttered curses at Johnsen +and his telegram.</p> + +<p>Holm sat looking at the thing.</p> + +<p>"Bramsen," he said at last, "I've got it. Don't +you see what it is?"</p> + +<p>"No, I'm blest if I do."</p> + +<p>"It's come through a bit wrong, that's all, mutilated +in transit. '<i>Erik</i>' it ought to be. '<i>Erik</i> dock yesterday'—that +is—he's got there all right and docked +yesterday."</p> + +<p>Bramsen turned a somersault over the coffee-bags, +slapped his thighs and stood doubled up with laughter.</p> + +<p>"Well, to be sure! A nice lot they telegraph +people must be over there! And I was certain sure +he'd gone on the drink and sold us all up this time—ha, +ha, ha!"</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>While Holm and Bramsen were thus consoling each +other down at the quay, Mrs. Rantzau and Betty +were sitting quietly in the little parlour now that the +pupils had gone.</p> + +<p>Betty was crying, with her arms round her mother's +neck, while her mother pressed the girl closely to her, +patting her hair tenderly.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_99" id="Page_99" title="[Pg 99]"></a> +"Don't cry, Betty, my child; you know we've +always had each other, good times and bad. Ah, +my dear, it's a sad childhood you had, but I could do +no more. You must do as your heart tells you, my +child."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, and we were so happy together, and +everything going so well."</p> + +<p>"We'll manage somehow, Betty dear; you've +never known me give up yet, have you, child?"</p> + +<p>"No—but it's so cruel to think of you having to +work and slave all the time—and we might have lived +in luxury the two of us—but I can't, mother, I can't."</p> + +<p>"Never think of it, Betty dear; I am well and +strong, and we'll get along all right. And if you don't +care to stay on at the office there after what's happened, +why, there must be other places you could get."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know—but it was so nice there, and I was +just getting into things so well. And—and—Mr. +William was so nice and kind."</p> + +<p>She fell to crying once more, but Mrs. Rantzau sat +up sharply.</p> + +<p>"William—was he nice to you, you say?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, so kind and friendly, and he told me about +things—— Oh, he's a good man, I know."</p> + +<p>"Told you about what things, Betty?"</p> + +<p>"About his life, and how he'd wanted to be an +artist, and was studying for it and all that—but then +he thought it was his duty to help his old father with +the business."</p> + +<p>Betty grew calmer after a while, and told her mother +a great deal of what had passed between Holm and +herself, and what William had said.</p> + +<p>Emilie Rantzau lay awake till late that night +thinking over what Betty had said. It was difficult<a class="pagenum" name="Page_100" id="Page_100" title="[Pg 100]"></a> +to get a clear idea of the situation, for the various +scenes seemed contradictory. Had William honourable +intentions regarding Betty?—that was the main thing.</p> + +<p>But she had met with so many disappointments in +life, that it almost seemed as if Fate were purposely +deluding her with visions that were never to be realised. +Again and again she had seen the future opening +before her in happiness and prosperity, only to find the +prospect vanish like a mirage, leaving her alone as +before in the desert of life.</p> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_101" id="Page_101" title="[Pg 101]"></a></p> +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII<br /> +MALLA TRAP</h2> + + +<p>Forty years earlier the corner premises occupied +by the firm of Knut G. Holm had belonged to +Melchior Trap, who had his business there. +Melchior Trap was one of the great traders of the +place in his day, and a man looked up to by all.</p> + +<p>He was supposed to have made a fortune in the +Crimean War, but lost most of it later, though enough +remained for him to leave his daughter and only child, +Malla Trap, a comfortable income after his death.</p> + +<p>Knut Holm, as a lad of fifteen, had entered the +service of Melchior Trap, starting in the shop, and +gradually working his way up, until, when the old +man died, he was able to take over the business +himself.</p> + +<p>Malla Trap was then a friend of old standing; some, +indeed, of the older generation declared that Holm +in his young days had been in love with his master's +daughter, but that the old patrician would not hear +of the match.</p> + +<p>However this might be, Malla Trap was a regular +visitor at the Holms', and as far back as the children +could remember, Aunt Trap had always come round +to dinner every Sunday, where a special place was +laid for her at table.</p> + +<p>She was now about sixty, tall, thin, and with greyish<a class="pagenum" name="Page_102" id="Page_102" title="[Pg 102]"></a> +hair that hung in two heavy curls on either side of +her forehead.</p> + +<p>But Malla Trap was no ordinary old maid with +black crochet mittens and knitting-needle, sitting +roasting apples over a stove in an over-heated +room.</p> + +<p>No; on a fine winter's day, with clean, smooth ice +across the fjord, one might see Malla Trap's slender +figure skimming along on skates as gaily as any girl +of seventeen.</p> + +<p>She had a splendid constitution and physique—weakness +was a thing unknown to her. And she had +carefully hardened herself from youth up, for she had +a dread of becoming old and invalid.</p> + +<p>As an instance of her prowess of endurance it was +stated as a reliable fact that she had set out one +bitterly cold morning to skate across the fjord, and, +falling through a patch of thin ice a couple of miles +out, had not only managed to extricate herself, but +instead of making at once for home, continued on her +way to Strandvik. There, arriving at the house of +her old friend Prois, she declared she was frozen so +stiff that anyone might have broken her across the +middle like a sugar-stick.</p> + +<p>A slight cold was the sole effect of her bath, which +otherwise seemed to have been merely refreshing!</p> + +<p>She had always had leisure and means to arrange her +mode of life as she pleased, and had made the most +of her opportunities in that direction. Her whole +existence was conducted in a casual, easy-going fashion, +not tied down to habit, rule and order.</p> + +<p>Her idea of charity, and manner of exercising the +same, were no less eccentric.</p> + +<p>One Christmas, for instance, she had presented each<a class="pagenum" name="Page_103" id="Page_103" title="[Pg 103]"></a> +of the old derelicts at the Seamen's Home with a pair +of ski, declaring that with a little practice they would +soon learn to use them, and that the exercise would +give them a new lease of life. The poor old gouty +invalids were hard put to it to hobble along on their +feet with the aid of sticks, and had certainly never +dreamed of running about on ski.</p> + +<p>When Pastor Arff, who was extremely stout, complained +of heartburn, she gave him a skiff, with oars +complete, on the express condition that he should get +up at six every morning and row a couple of miles up +and down the river.</p> + +<p>"I assure you, my dear Pastor, you'll feel as lively +as a fish if you do!"</p> + +<p>She would go to meetings in the afternoon, and sit +among the earnest sisterhood, taking an interested +part in discussions as to mission work among the +heathen, and then go on in the evening to see the +latest and riskiest pieces at the theatre, which she +thoroughly enjoyed. It was a known fact that she +had tried to enliven the work of the local soup-kitchen +by introducing raisins as an ingredient in the pea-soup, +but the old ladies on the committee had put +their foot down—that was going too far. Malla Trap +urged them to try it—it was delicious, she declared—but +without avail.</p> + +<p>The townsfolk were so used to her eccentricities that +no one ever took much notice of them, for all knew +she was a thoroughly good soul, who in her unobtrusive +way had brought happiness to many a home in +distress. It was not always by direct gifts that she +effected this; her confident and encouraging manner +gave new hope and strength to many who were sinking +under the burden of their struggle. Her tall, erect<a class="pagenum" name="Page_104" id="Page_104" title="[Pg 104]"></a> +figure came like a breath of the fresh north-west wind, +sweeping clouds from the sky.</p> + +<p>Not many knew that it was Malla Trap who had +given Bertelsen the idea of starting a paper shop +when the firm in which he was cashier failed, and he +found himself thrown out, with a wife and children +to look after, and no means of support.</p> + +<p>The scene would probably have been something like +this:</p> + +<p>"Now, my dear man, it's no good giving up like +that."</p> + +<p>"But what am I to do?—there's nowhere to turn—only +the workhouse. That's what it'll be—the workhouse."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Bertelsen! pull yourself together, do. +Look here! I've an idea. There's that shop in the +square, next to Holm; it's vacant, and you could get +it cheap. Start a little business there with paper, +cardboard, wall-papers and that sort of thing. It'll +be a success—it <em>must</em>!"</p> + +<p>He looked up a little—paper—business—his thoughts +took a definite direction. Hope began to dawn, and +Malla Trap had accomplished a piece of the finest +missionary work a human soul ever can—she had +made a sunny thought to grow in a tortured and +despairing mind.</p> + +<p>Her best friend was Miss Strom, a woman of considerable +wit and education, and daughter of the late +governor of the province.</p> + +<p>When the pair of them were together, Beate Strom +would lecture at length, pointing out to Malla Trap +the necessity of paying some regard to public opinion; +it really would not do to go on acting in that independent +fashion.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_105" id="Page_105" title="[Pg 105]"></a> +"It's no good, my dear," Malla Trap would say. +"If I can't do things my own way, which is at least +honest and decent enough, why, I might as well give +up altogether."</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said Beate Strom earnestly; "one +must consider what people say."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Beate! You're far too well brought up, +my dear, that's the trouble."</p> + +<p>And when Malla Trap gave a supper-party, with +lobster mayonnaise and black pudding, Beate Strom +gave her up as hopeless. There was a limit, she +declared, to the extent to which innovations should +be permitted.</p> + +<p>But Malla Trap simply pleaded that they were her +favourite dishes—and why shouldn't she? Was she +to sit and eat plain bread and cheese when she felt +like lobster mayonnaise and could get it? No, thank +you!</p> + +<p>As already mentioned, Miss Trap was a regular +visitor at Holm's, and had her own place at table.</p> + +<p>The children were fond of her, and she of them. +Whenever anything went wrong, or they were in +trouble, both William and Marie would go to Aunt +Trap for advice.</p> + +<p>After his last conversation with his father, William +was at a loss what to make of the affair. It was +natural, therefore, he should confide in Aunt Trap.</p> + +<p>He told her that he could not be certain himself as +to the state of Betty's feelings towards him, but was +almost sure she was favourably inclined at least.</p> + +<p>Malla Trap asked him earnestly if it were not after +all only a passing fancy on his part; she was very +sceptical as to the nature of men's tender feelings.</p> + +<p>William, of course, declared emphatically that it<a class="pagenum" name="Page_106" id="Page_106" title="[Pg 106]"></a> +was true and enduring love, and that he would be +blighted for ever if he could not make Betty his +wife.</p> + +<p>At last Malla Trap believed him, and promised to +do what she could to put matters right.</p> + +<p>She decided first of all to go and talk to Mrs. Rantzau, +with whom she had some slight acquaintance; but on +the way she encountered Mrs. Rantzau herself walking +with Hermansen, and from the manner in which the +pair appeared absorbed in each other's society, Malla +Trap judged it best to postpone the call for the present. +Immediately after, Vindt, her cousin, came strolling +along, and stopped to speak.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mrs. Mallaprop, how's things with you?"</p> + +<p>"Very well, thanks, rude boy."</p> + +<p>Vindt stood a moment pointing with his stick to +the pair that had just passed<span class="corr" title="added: .">.</span></p> + +<p>"What do you say to that, my lanky cousin—pretty +bit of goods the banker's got hold of there. Who is +she?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Rantzau, the music teacher."</p> + +<p>"Oho! So that's the lady, is it! Well, I must +say, she looks quite smart."</p> + +<p>"When are you coming to see me?"</p> + +<p>"My dear child, think of your reputation! What +would the world say if I were to go visiting a love-lorn +female without a chaperon in the world?"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk nonsense. Come home and have +dinner. I've a nice piece of fish."</p> + +<p>"And apple sauce, what? No, thank you; I was +ill for a fortnight last time I sampled your new-fangled +menus. But I mustn't take up your valuable time. +<i lang="it">Addio, cara mia!</i>"</p> + +<p>And Vindt strode off, in time to see Hermansen and<a class="pagenum" name="Page_107" id="Page_107" title="[Pg 107]"></a> +Mrs. Rantzau disappear round the corner. He began +to wonder what it could mean.</p> + +<p>Banker Hermansen running off in business hours +with a lady all dressed up—this was something altogether +unprecedented, and enough to set others beside +Vindt agape. Hermansen, a man devoid of all tender +feeling, whose heart was popularly supposed to be +made of rhinoceros hide—surely he could not be going +that way like any other mortal?</p> + +<p>Vindt was so occupied with the phenomenon that he +walked full tilt into Listad and the schoolmaster, the +former of whom buttonholed at once and began delivering +a long harangue about the new Ministry and +the political situation.</p> + +<p>"... Such a state of things, my dear sir, is more +than gloomy; it is desperate. And the <i lang="la">fons et origo</i> +of the whole trouble lies in the fact that...."</p> + +<p>"That there's too many amateurs poking their +fingers into the business as it is, and an ungodly mess +they're making of it, instead of sticking to their +work and doing something useful."</p> + +<p>Listad thought he had never met a ruder fellow than +this unceremonious broker; never encountered a citizen +with a more callous disregard to higher political aims, +and the needs of the country.</p> + +<p>"But what—what is to become of a nation if its +individual units allow themselves to be swallowed up +in mere material strivings, deaf to the call of lofty +ideals, blind to the moral welfare of the land, and +of humanity at large? I ask you, how will such a +people fare?"</p> + +<p>"First-rate, if you ask me," said Vindt, and walked +off.</p> + +<p>Meantime Malla Trap had come to the conclusion<a class="pagenum" name="Page_108" id="Page_108" title="[Pg 108]"></a> +that she might as well take up the business in hand +with Holm himself at once; it would have to be done +sooner or later.</p> + +<p>She went up to the drawing-room, and told the maid +to go down and ask if Mr. Holm could spare a few +minutes.</p> + +<p>Holm was somewhat surprised at the message; +Malla Trap did not often come round like this of her +own accord in the middle of the week.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear Miss Trap, is there anything special +the matter since we have the pleasure of seeing you +to-day? Or were you feeling lonely, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>"Lonely enough I am at times, Knut Holm."</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, I suppose—when one is all by oneself—er—one +feels that way now and then. I know myself +I often feel the want of company, someone to confide +in——"</p> + +<p>"Ah, but you've memories, Knut Holm, happy +memories."</p> + +<p>"That's true—but even then—it's apt to be dull +all the same in the long-run, with nothing but +memories."</p> + +<p>"I hear you are thinking of marrying again."</p> + +<p>"And who's been kind enough to tell you that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I had it from a reliable source. But honestly, +Knut Holm, I think you will do well to reflect before +you do."</p> + +<p>"I've put in quite enough reflection over it already, +my dear Malla Trap, worked it out all round. I know +it means a lot of extra expense and bother, with new +arrangements and all that, but seeing I can't reasonably +expect to live more than another twenty years +or so, I fancy there'll be enough to manage it."</p> + +<p>"So that's what you call working it out, is it?<a class="pagenum" name="Page_109" id="Page_109" title="[Pg 109]"></a> +Working out sums of money! I thought you were a +man of loftier ideals than that."</p> + +<p>"I was, in my younger days, Malla Trap. Do you +remember the time when we two were fond of each +other?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I've forgotten it."</p> + +<p>"We were as good as engaged, weren't we?"</p> + +<p>"I had your promise, Knut Holm, and I trusted +you. I waited and waited, but you never came."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was a pity, I know. But, you see, your +father was so furious when he heard about it, and +treated me in such a manner, that I simply couldn't +put up with it. And then, afterwards, there were +those affairs with Maggie and Mrs. Gronlund—but +I'm sure I don't know what we want to go dragging +up all that for. We've got along quietly and comfortably +now together these many years; let bygones +be bygones, say I."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've forgiven you everything long ago. But +I haven't forgotten, and I've my own reasons for reminding +you of it all to-day for the first and last time. +So go on."</p> + +<p>Holm walked up and down restlessly, wondering +what Malla Trap could have in mind. It did not occur +to him for the moment that she might be acting on +William's behalf, or he might have been less frank. +As it was, he went on with a touch of forced gaiety:</p> + +<p>"Well, well, my dear Malla Trap, if you must have +the old story set out in detail, don't mind me. I'll +tell you all about it. I had to marry Maggie, you see; +as a gentleman I could do nothing else. And as for +Mrs. Gronlund, why, seeing she wouldn't give up the +boy, I had to take her as well. Altogether, you see, +it's been the boy's fault all along. If it hadn't been<a class="pagenum" name="Page_110" id="Page_110" title="[Pg 110]"></a> +for him, you and I might have fixed things up after +all."</p> + +<p>"Best as it was, I dare say. But I ask you now, +for the sake of our old friendship, do not make another +woman unhappy."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear soul, Maggie and Mrs. Gronlund +were as happy as could be. I really think I've a sort +of gift for making women happy, when I love them."</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha! Excuse my laughing, but really, Knut +Holm, I can't help it. You loved me once, or so you +said, at least."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we were only children then."</p> + +<p>"But I can't say you ever made me happy in that +way."</p> + +<p>"I assure you, Malla Trap, I've been more sorry +than you know about that business."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't think you ever troubled much to +think what a forsaken woman feels, what misery it +means to her."</p> + +<p>"Well, honestly, I don't find it easy to put myself +in her place, as it were—no, I can't say—— It must +be very unpleasant, of course.... H'm. But you +seem to have got along pretty comfortably all the +same, as far as one can see."</p> + +<p>"As far as one can see, yes." Her voice was +earnest now. "Has it never occurred to you to think +why Malla Trap grew into the eccentric, half-foolish +creature people turn to smile at now? Do you know +what it means to lose one's whole objective in life? +Ah, no, you wouldn't understand; no one else, perhaps, +could understand how a woman's life can be made +empty, aimless, a mere chaos of existence—though, +Heaven be thanked, there have been little rays of sun-light +here and there. And when the whole poor<a class="pagenum" name="Page_111" id="Page_111" title="[Pg 111]"></a> +comedy is ended, why, I hope there may be some +few that will spare a kindly thought for Malla Trap."</p> + +<p>"If I knew how I could help you, Malla Trap, I'd +do it gladly. But, honestly, I can't see what you're +driving at just now."</p> + +<p>"I want your son to be happy, that's all."</p> + +<p>"Oh—so that's where the trouble lies, is it? Very +sensible of him, I'm sure, to get you on his side, but +if you'll excuse my saying so, Malla Trap, you'd better +leave things alone."</p> + +<p>He strode up and down, and the casual, easy-going +air he had assumed gave way to a more serious expression. +At last he stopped, and stood facing her.</p> + +<p>"There are critical moments in every man's life," +he began, "and, and—I reckon I've had my share. +I've been on the verge of bankruptcy...."</p> + +<p>"In 1875, yes."</p> + +<p>"Why—how did you know?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I knew how matters stood then, well enough."</p> + +<p>"There wasn't a soul that knew it except C. Henrik +Pettersen."</p> + +<p>"You think so, do you?"</p> + +<p>"There was Hermansen at the bank, he had some +idea, I dare say, but nobody else."</p> + +<p>"I knew.<span class="corr" title='added: "'>"</span> She drew off her gloves and smoothed +them out on the table. Holm stood still, looking +earnestly at her.</p> + +<p>"Was it—was it you, then, that sent me the hundred +and fifty pounds?"</p> + +<p>"You've guessed it at last, then? Yes, it was I. +I knew you were in desperate straits, that you would +be ruined if you did not get help from somewhere."</p> + +<p>"After I'd treated you so badly?"</p> + +<p>"A woman's heart's a strange thing."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_112" id="Page_112" title="[Pg 112]"></a> +"But why did you never tell me before to-day?"</p> + +<p>"I should never have told you at all, if it hadn't +been for William's sake. I'm proud of the boy; he's +been good to me, and a homeless old woman's grateful +for a little kindness. Well, now you know it—and +now I ask you again to give up Betty Rantzau; +there'll be nothing but trouble come of it, if you go +on. And they're fond of each other, I may as well +tell you that at once."</p> + +<p>"That boy—that boy! It's as I said before; he's +been the trouble all along."</p> + +<p>"This time, at least, it's for your own good."</p> + +<p>"That remains to be seen. But I can't get over +that business of the hundred and fifty pounds."</p> + +<p>"Say no more about it, Knut Holm."</p> + +<p>"And that artful old rascal of a Pettersen; to +think I should have wasted a wreath on his grave +every blessed year since he died. Eleven wreaths at +four shillings a time—true, I left out the ribbon last +time, that was so much saved. But he shouldn't +have had a single flower out of me, if I'd known."</p> + +<p>"Then it's agreed that you let William marry +Betty?</p> + +<p>"I never said anything of the sort. But the +hundred and fifty—my head's all going round. How +am I to pay you back again? Really, I'm sorry—you +must excuse me...."</p> + +<p>And he strode out of the room. Miss Trap sat +smoothing out her gloves on the table. Thinking +matters over, she came to the conclusion that Holm +would give in, but the way did not seem quite clear +as yet.</p> + +<p>A little later William looked in.</p> + +<p>"Has he gone?"</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_113" id="Page_113" title="[Pg 113]"></a> +"Just this minute."</p> + +<p>"What did he say? Did you manage it, Auntie +Trap?"</p> + +<p>"He's obstinate, my boy, but I think we shall get +him round all right. Your father only wanted to try +you, William. He's a strange man, is Knut Holm."</p> + +<p>"Do you think that was all it was?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I should say so. He could hardly find a +better way of making you serious about it, than by +playing the part of a rival."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we must have Betty up—we've settled it all +between us, now." And before Miss Trap could say +a word, he was gone. Two minutes later he came +back, leading Betty by the hand.</p> + +<p>"This is Auntie Trap—yes, you must call her +Auntie now, for it's she that's managed it all. Though +it was really only a sort of trial father got up, so +Auntie says—he's a wonder, the old man, what?"</p> + +<p>"May I call you Auntie as well, Miss Trap? I've +never had an aunt myself, and it's nice. Mother +and I have always been alone."</p> + +<p>"I know, my child. Call me Auntie by all means, +and God bless you both. It's all to be for the best. +I'm sure father was only wanting to try you. I know +Knut Holm of old; he's his own queer ideas at times, +but his heart's in the right place."</p> + +<p>And she put her arm round Betty's neck and kissed +her.</p> + +<p>"Lovely it must be for you two young people on the +threshold of the promised land. But remember, as +you look towards it, that it only comes once in a lifetime—just +this one moment, when the mists have +cleared away, and the future is bright before you. I +wish you happiness, children."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_114" id="Page_114" title="[Pg 114]"></a> +She walked out, erect as ever, but with her wise eyes, +as it were, veiled. William and Betty watched her a +little way up the street.</p> + +<p>They stood hand in hand by the window, looking +out over the river; Betty laid her head on his +shoulder. Never before had the river and the hillside +seemed so beautiful as to-day.</p> + +<p>There came into Betty's mind the memories of her +childhood, like dark shadows gliding by. The high-walled +courtyard in Hamburg and the rooms in a narrow +street in Copenhagen stood out clearest of all. She +shivered a little, and put her arms round her lover's +neck.</p> + +<p>"Come, William, let us go and tell mother. She +will be so happy."</p> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_115" id="Page_115" title="[Pg 115]"></a></p> +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX<br /> +CLAPHAM JUNCTION</h2> + + +<p>Everyone knows the great railway station +at Clapham Junction just outside London, +where so many lines meet and cross, and +where trains start for so many different parts.</p> + +<p>Our little town, too, had its junction of ways just +outside, where the high road branches out into three, +each in a different direction. It was the accepted +meeting-place for all secretly engaged couples, being +a convenient spot that could be reached, accidentally +as it were, by two people happening to come along by +different routes.</p> + +<p>It was Vindt, the humorist, who had christened it +Clapham Junction, and he was the first to ferret out +the fact that Banker Hermansen and Mrs. Rantzau +had been walking together along the road by the shore +several mornings in succession.</p> + +<p>Vindt went round to the bank on some pretext of +business, but really to see if the banker was in a softer +mood than usual. After all, the man was no more than +human!</p> + +<p>But no; there he stood behind the counter, stiff +and coldly polite as ever. Nice sort of man for a lover, +thought Vindt.</p> + +<p>What could the banker and Mrs. Rantzau have in +common?</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_116" id="Page_116" title="[Pg 116]"></a> +It was not easy to imagine. Some said he was +fascinated by her voice, others laid the blame on her +black eyes; the fact remained that the pair were more +and more frequently together. Vindt had not been +down to Holm's for a long time now; he hated the +sight of women in business, and that Holm should +have been one of the first to introduce a petticoat within +the private sanctum among good cigars and vintage +port—it was unpardonable. In the present state +of things, however, he felt desperately in need of +someone to talk to. This affair of Hermansen's was +so unparalleled a marvel that he simply must open his +mind to someone about it.</p> + +<p>He thrust his head in at the doorway, and discovered +Holm standing behind the counter.</p> + +<p>"All alone, old stick-in-the-mud?"</p> + +<p>"Not a soul in the place. Come in. Haven't seen +you for ages."</p> + +<p>"You've been otherwise engaged. Fair charmer +inside there now?" He pointed inquiringly towards +the office.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm all alone. Come inside, and have a glass +of '48 port."</p> + +<p>Vindt carefully laid down his heavy, ivory-handled +cane, hung his coat and neck wrap over a chair, +and stood with his hands in his pockets, facing +him.</p> + +<p>"Well, and what's the trouble now?" said Holm, +struggling with a refractory cork.</p> + +<p>"Holm, what do you say: could you imagine me +in love?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Well, could you imagine old Hermansen on his +knees whispering tender nothings to a woman?"</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_117" id="Page_117" title="[Pg 117]"></a> +"What on earth...? Look here. Where have +you been to lunch to-day?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't been anywhere to lunch. But I'll tell +you where I have been: I've been out to Clapham +Junction, and seen our banker friend and the Sea +Lady...."</p> + +<p>"And who?"</p> + +<p>"High C Lady; nightingale; your little Donna's +mother—Rantzau, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Hermansen and Mrs. Rantzau?" Holm looked +at him earnestly.</p> + +<p>"Aha, had an eye on her yourself, what? Well, +you've had some experience of widows, so you're not +a new hand at the business."</p> + +<p>"What's all this nonsense you've got hold of to-day, +Vindt?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I'm sorry to crush the budding flower of +love within your heart, but so it is. You've always +come off second-best with Hermansen—and now he's +snapped up Mrs. Rantzau under your nose. A +marriage has been arranged—etc. etc."</p> + +<p>Holm's face was flushed—no doubt with his efforts +to open the bottle.</p> + +<p>"Come along!" said Vindt. "What about that +little drink? I'm sure I want something to console +me."</p> + +<p>Holm could not get the cork out. He sat down, +and was unusually silent.</p> + +<p>Vindt began to feel conscience-stricken. Surely +Holm had not been in earnest, then?<span class="corr" title='removed: "'></span></p> + +<p>"Holm! You don't mean to say you're—you're...."</p> + +<p>"Hurt, you mean? No, no, my boy—but I've +been had all the same.... Well, never mind.<a class="pagenum" name="Page_118" id="Page_118" title="[Pg 118]"></a> +What with the Spaniard, and now the widow, I +should say he'd soon find he'd got his 'hands +full.'"</p> + +<p>"Well, here's to the happy pair!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, by all means. But can you tell me, Vindt, +how he managed it? I'd give five bob to have heard +him in the act. Hermansen proposing...."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's easy enough. This is the style." Vindt +buttoned up his coat, put his stick under his arm and +held his hands behind his back.</p> + +<p>"Honoured Madam, allow me to draw upon your +indulgence to the extent of craving your protection. +I am not altogether a worthless document, have never +before been discounted for anyone's account, but have +lain untouched as a sole bill of exchange in my portfolio. +Having ascertained that you had established +yourself here, I ventured, honoured Madam, to apply +to you, with a view to learn how far you might be +disposed to open a joint account, free of all commission, +to our mutual advantage."</p> + +<p>"Bravo, Vindt! I'll take my oath it's the first time +in his life he's ever done anything free of all commission—poor +devil, I declare I'm almost sorry for +him myself."</p> + +<p>They talked over the affair of the engagement for +some time, and Holm grew so thoroughly cheerful +after a while that Vindt was convinced his heart was +not involved.</p> + +<p>"Holm, will you do me a favour?" Vindt judged +that Holm was now in the best of tempers, and proposed +to utilise the opportunity. He was anxious to +lay hands on a couple of hundred pounds. It was +worth trying at any rate.</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it?"</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_119" id="Page_119" title="[Pg 119]"></a> +"Give me your signature on the back of a piece of +paper, that's all. A couple of hundred."</p> + +<p>"My dear Vindt, I should be sorry to lose an old +friend like you."</p> + +<p>"Lose an old friend?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes. You see, I've had some experience of +backing bills. Take a couple of instances out of many. +You remember young Lieberg? Smart, well-got-up +young fellow, with a taste for the good things of life, +but a trifle thin in the wearing parts. I backed a +bill for him, and we were first-rate friends. At the +first renewal I had to remind him, with all respect, of +the paper's existence, and he was mortally offended—although +I offered to lend him interest and payment. +And in the end I had to pay up myself. Well, I +thought after that he'd look on me as his best friend. +Whereas now, when I meet him in the street, he cuts +me dead. That's what you get for it!</p> + +<p>"Then there was Kautz, the shipowner. He went +bankrupt, as you know, and let me in for £800, but in +spite of that I signed, and helped him to come to an +arrangement. A very nice little piece of business it +turned out for him, for the year after he was a richer +man than he'd ever been before, and he gave a thundering +big party, invited all the town—excepting me!"</p> + +<p>"My dear Holm, if it ever should happen to me, +I'd take care you were invited too."</p> + +<p>"Very good of you, I'm sure. But I'll tell you +another little story. Consul Pram was a big man, +with a big position, as you know, but a jovial soul, +and easy to get on with. I've a liking for men of that +sort. Well, it was in 1875, when things were at their +worst all round, for shipping and trade and everything +else we get our living by. I don't believe there was a<a class="pagenum" name="Page_120" id="Page_120" title="[Pg 120]"></a> +business in the town that wasn't eternally worried +about how things were to turn out.</p> + +<p>"Then one day Pram came up to me. 'Puh,' said +he, 'it's hot,' and sat down, puffing. It was midsummer +and pretty warm.</p> + +<p>"'You're right there,' said I, putting away my +balance-sheet. I'd just tacked £200 on to the valuation +of the premises to make it come out.</p> + +<p>"'Times are pretty bad,' said he.</p> + +<p>"'Not for a nabob like you, surely,' said I, feeling +a bit anxious all the same. There was a matter of +£150 between us. And I'd no idea where to rake up +any funds beyond.</p> + +<p>"'I'm not sure if I'll pull through myself,' said he.</p> + +<p>"'Nonsense, Consul—with your credit——'</p> + +<p>"'Still....'</p> + +<p>"'Hermansen at the bank will let you have all +you want. <em>You're</em> safe enough.'</p> + +<p>"'I've lost courage altogether now. It's hopeless +to keep going any longer in this place.'</p> + +<p>"'But Lord save us, man, <em>you</em> mustn't go under. +If you did, there'd be more than myself would have +to go too.'</p> + +<p>"'Well, you'll have to keep me out then, Holm, +that's all.'</p> + +<p>"Only fancy me backing a bill for a man like Pram +when I was barely hanging on by my eyelids myself.</p> + +<p>"Well, it was then the wonderful thing happened. +Just in the middle of the day, after Pram had gone, +came a letter enclosing £150—anonymous! I've +never felt so glad in all my life, Vindt—it was like a +message from Providence telling me to keep up my +pluck—and Consul Pram as well!</p> + +<p>"That afternoon I went round to his office, and<a class="pagenum" name="Page_121" id="Page_121" title="[Pg 121]"></a> +backed a bill for £500. And next day Pram told me, +laughingly, that he had got the bank to discount it, +and Hermansen had said, 'Shouldn't have too much +to do with that Holm if I were you, Pram. Not first-rate +paper, really. But of course I'd take anything +with <em>your</em> name on!'</p> + +<p>"Some time after I backed another bill for Pram, +and helped him in various little ways, for the man was +almost out of his senses with worry; I'm sure he'd +have gone smash if he'd been left to himself. I met +his wife, too, about that time, with the boy. She is +a woman of commanding presence, as you know, and +handsome, to look at, anyway. She gave me her +hand most cordially, and said, 'My sincerest thanks, +Mr. Holm, for all you have done for us. <em>I shall never, +never forget it.</em>'</p> + +<p>"Six months after, the trouble was over, and young +Pram was getting up a sledge party, inviting all the +young people in the town. Marie's name was on the +list. 'No, leave her out,' said his mother. 'He's quite +a common person really, is that Holm.'</p> + +<p>"And later, I understand, young Pram complained +to the bank manager that his father had had dealings +some time back with Knut G. Holm—bill transactions, +but in future he would not hear of anything of the sort.</p> + +<p>"The bank manager had good sense enough to answer +that there was hardly any danger now in having dealings +with Knut G. Holm!</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear Vindt, you can see for yourself +that all this doesn't incline one to further obligations. +There are one or two honourable exceptions, of course, +but as a general rule, I must say, gratitude is a delightful +quality, but forgetfulness is far more commonly met +with!</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_122" id="Page_122" title="[Pg 122]"></a> +"Still, I've never said no to a friend. One must +run the risk of losing both friend and money, and if +by some miracle both can be kept, why, so much the +better. Now, where's <a class="corr" name="TC_3" id="TC_3" title="you">your</a> bill?"</p> + +<p>Holm took the document, scrutinised it closely, and +said:</p> + +<p>"But, my dear man, this isn't for you at all?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't say it was."</p> + +<p>"Syvertsen—Syvertsen—what's he got to do with +it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, he's a young man reading for the +Church, and consequently in need of cash. So I argued +it out like this: an old sinner like myself ought to +keep on good terms with the clergy; wherefore I +undertook to act as first signatory in the present +instance, making myself responsible for the interest. +Now I want you to sign as second, guaranteeing the +repayments; in consideration of which, you might +reasonably demand the services of a priest, free of +charge, at your third wedding."</p> + +<p>When Vindt had left, Holm fell to pondering over +various little circumstances that he had not particularly +noticed before. It occurred to him now, that +for the last fortnight he had had a message from +Mrs. Rantzau almost every day, asking him to come +and see her at nine o'clock precisely, on important +business!</p> + +<p>And, thinking over this, he called to mind that he +had on nearly every occasion encountered Hermansen +at the same time. It could mean but one thing, she +had been using him to bring the banker up to the +scratch. Well—much good might it do her! "She'll +get a fine husband—oh, a remarkably fine husband," +muttered Holm to himself with a sly chuckle.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_123" id="Page_123" title="[Pg 123]"></a> +He walked over to the window and looked across +at the bank. It seemed in some curious way to have +grown smaller; the great gilt letters, "BANK," above +the entrance, were no longer impressive.</p> + +<p>Strange, how quiet it was in the shop to-day! Not +a sound but Garner counting over the cash, putting +the ten-shilling notes in bundles of ten, and the small +silver coins in paper rolls.</p> + +<p>Miss Rantzau was away, and had not even sent a +message.</p> + +<p>"Have you seen anything of my son to-day, +Garner?"</p> + +<p>Garner laughed and showed his teeth. "He—he—no. +Isn't he down at the quay, then? No, I don't +know...."</p> + +<p>Holm perceived that there was something in the +wind, and refrained from further inquiries.</p> + +<p>A little later the maid came in: would Mr. Holm +please come upstairs, there was a lady to see him.</p> + +<p>It was Mrs. Rantzau. She was all in black and +looked very handsome indeed. Holm could not help +admiring her magnificent figure, and thought to +himself that Hermansen certainly seemed to have +made a better bargain here than recently with the +Spaniard.</p> + +<p>"I dare say you are surprised to see me here now," +Mrs. Rantzau began. "But exceptional circumstances...." +she flushed, and broke off in some +confusion.</p> + +<p>"Heard the news, my dear lady. Congratulations! +You've found an excellent husband, a thorough——" +he checked himself, hesitating between compliment +and sincerity.</p> + +<p>"You know my past, Holm, and you will not<a class="pagenum" name="Page_124" id="Page_124" title="[Pg 124]"></a> +wonder at my seeking a safe haven after my troubled +life—and I hope and believe he will never have reason +to regret."</p> + +<p>"Indeed not, my dear lady; he's a very lucky man +if you ask me. And at his age, too——"</p> + +<p>"I don't think he's any older than yourself, Holm," +put in Mrs. Rantzau, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps not—but he looks it, anyway."</p> + +<p>"There was one thing more, Mr. Holm. My +daughter's future is more to me even than my own, +and it is chiefly on her account that I have come."</p> + +<p>"Aha, I thought as much. So you're in the plot +as well, of course?"</p> + +<p>"The plot?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it <em>is</em> a plot. First there's William turns as +contrary as a rusty lock, then they set Miss Trap on +to me, and now it's you!"</p> + +<p>"Well—I came to tell you that the two young people +love each other. Be good to them, Holm, and you +will make your son and my daughter happy together."</p> + +<p>"And by doing so I become a sort of relation of—of +Banker Hermansen?"</p> + +<p>"Well, is there anything wrong in that?"</p> + +<p>"Hermansen and I as a sort of—well, what should +we be? Can't be each other's half-uncles—twins-in-law. +Bless my soul, it's really almost comical!"</p> + +<p>"It's a serious matter to me, Holm. My child's +future...." There were tears in her eyes as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"My dear lady, for Heaven's sake don't let's turn +serious. I simply can't stand that sort of wedding-day +solemnity, weeping on one another's necks as if +it were a funeral. It simply comes to this: I've +been had. Well, the only thing to do is to put the +best face on it one can."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_125" id="Page_125" title="[Pg 125]"></a> +She held out her hand. "Thanks, Holm. Thanks. +I can assure you I shall never forget all your kindness. +You are a good man, Holm."</p> + +<p>"Thanks for the unsolicited testimonial. Well, I +dare say I might be worse. And when it comes to +getting out one's final balance-sheet, it's as well to +have a little on the credit side here and there."</p> + +<p>He walked across to the window and stood for some +time without speaking.</p> + +<p>"Have you seen William to-day?" he said at last.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he came round to see us, and walked back +here with me. I expect he's in the office now."</p> + +<p>"Well, we'd better have him up, and get the matter +settled out of hand at once."</p> + +<p>As he was moving towards the door, Bramsen looked +in.</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, Mr. Holm," he began, then stopped +and stood looking from one to the other. "Er—h'm. +Hopes I don't intrude?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit, Bramsen; come in! What's the +trouble?"</p> + +<p>"Why, 'twas just a bit of a private matter, if...."</p> + +<p>Holm went over to him. "Anything wrong, +Bramsen?"</p> + +<p>"Andrine's come home and chucked the Salvationing +business for good and all."</p> + +<p>"Why, so much the better."</p> + +<p>"Ay, but there's the book...."</p> + +<p>"What book?"</p> + +<p>"The savings-bank book—she wants it back. +And now there's nothing in it, for when I bought the +ship, d'you see...."</p> + +<p>"We must talk it over later, Bramsen. I'm busy +just now."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_126" id="Page_126" title="[Pg 126]"></a> +"Busy, eh? I see," said Bramsen, looking sideways +at Mrs. Rantzau. And, lowering his voice, he whispered +slyly, "<i>That's a fine one you've got there!</i>" and retired.</p> + +<p>"Bramsen," Holm called after him, "tell William +to come up, will you? You'll find him in the office."</p> + +<p>William came in directly after, went up to his father +and took his hand.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, father," he said. "I didn't understand +at first, but Miss Trap told me all about it. +That you only wanted to try us——"</p> + +<p>"Eh? Try you? Yes—yes, of course.... Yes, +my son; it was—er—it was the only way I could see +to make a sensible man of you, and get that artistic +nonsense out of your head. Good idea, don't you +think? Competition's a good thing all round—checks +abnormal fluctuations of the market, you know."</p> + +<p>"Father, I'm the happiest man on earth."</p> + +<p>"Your respected mother-in-law, I've had the +pleasure of meeting her before...."</p> + +<p>"Have you, though?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—abroad. It's many years ago now," put in +Mrs. Rantzau hastily.</p> + +<p>"And now, William, you'd better go off and fetch +Betty, I think," said Holm. "And we'll have a little +party this evening. I hope you will come too!"</p> + +<p>"Thank you so much, Mr. Holm; I hope I can. +But I must just speak to Alfred first."</p> + +<p>"Alfred?"</p> + +<p>"My fiancé, Banker Hermansen."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, yes, of course. I really didn't know he +had a Christian name—he's always been just Banker +Hermansen."</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Holm came down into the shop, muttering to himself,<a class="pagenum" name="Page_127" id="Page_127" title="[Pg 127]"></a> +"Alfred—Alfred...." until he had to go into his +inner office where he could laugh unobserved. Of all +the extraordinary things....</p> + +<p>He thought of Bianca in the old days, and called to +mind the "Carnival of Venice," the little supper at +Pfortes—and in the midst of it all loomed the stiff, +upright figure and solemn, clean-shaven face of Banker +Hermansen.</p> + +<p>He had never dreamed of such a marvel, still less +expected to meet with it as a reality.</p> + +<p>That same afternoon came a card from Hermansen: +would be glad if Mr. Holm could find time to come +round some time during the day—a private matter. +"And if you would not mind coming in by the side +door, you will find me alone in the office."</p> + +<p>Holm had once before been invited to call upon the +banker "privately"—in 1879, when he had been +called upon to show his balance-sheet.</p> + +<p>The mere thought of it gave him cold shivers even +now. A devilish business! And the nasty mean way +all his valuations were cut down....</p> + +<p>He went in by the side entrance, and noticed how +empty and deserted the place looked. The long +counter and all the green-covered desks stood as if +yawning wearily in the afternoon sun. It was almost +uncanny to find everything so quiet.</p> + +<p>The banker did not seem to notice his entry at first, +but sat intent upon some papers at the big oak table.</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon, Banker!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, there you are! Forgive my troubling you to +come round, Mr. Holm, but...."</p> + +<p>He broke off, uncertain how to proceed. The two +ancient antagonists exchanged glances.</p> + +<p>For the first time in his life Holm felt himself master<a class="pagenum" name="Page_128" id="Page_128" title="[Pg 128]"></a> +of the situation towards Hermansen; this time it was +the banker himself who had to show his balance.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Holm, I dare say you have heard...."</p> + +<p>But Holm ignored the opening. "No, no, my +friend," he thought to himself, "you can play your +miserable hand alone, <em>I'm</em> not going to help you out."</p> + +<p>"I have committed the indiscretion of—er—becoming +engaged," said the banker, with a faint smile.</p> + +<p>"Hearty congratulations, my dear Banker," said +Holm, offering his hand.</p> + +<p>There was a pause, the banker evidently waiting for +Holm, with his customary fluency, to break the ice. +Here, however, he was disappointed; Holm merely +set his teeth and fell to polishing his silk hat on one +sleeve. The banker tried again.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Rantzau, my fiancée, has informed me that +we shall be—er—in a sort of way related." He smiled +invitingly, and thought: he must come round after that.</p> + +<p>Holm was a little in doubt how best to proceed now; +he was not averse to prolonging the other's awkwardness.</p> + +<p>"Highly honoured, I'm sure. Yes, my son has +been so fortunate as to gain the hand of—er—your +fiancée's daughter. A charming young lady, charming. +Takes after her mother." He checked himself; he +had said more than he wished.</p> + +<p>A long pause.</p> + +<p>The banker shifted some books on the table, then +suddenly he slipped up to Holm, laid one hand on his +shoulder and said:</p> + +<p>"We haven't always got on as well as we might +together, Holm; circumstances have sometimes been +against our friendly co-operation; but don't you +think, now, we might forget all that and try to start +on a more friendly footing? We're both old enough<a class="pagenum" name="Page_129" id="Page_129" title="[Pg 129]"></a> +now to be glad of peace and amity, and our new relations +ought to bring us closer together—what do you say?"</p> + +<p>Holm was quite taken aback; he had never seen +the banker in this mood before; the man was positively +getting sentimental. He had unbuttoned his coat, and +his voice was quite gentle.</p> + +<p>"It shan't be my fault if we don't, Hermansen. +I'm willing to let bygones be bygones. Time cures all +sorrows—patches up a doubtful balance-sheet, as you +might say——"</p> + +<p>"My dear Holm, pray don't mention it."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, it might have been worse—as the +auditor said. You're in luck's way, though, Hermansen. +I've had the honour of some slight acquaintance +with your fiancée in former days."</p> + +<p>"No, really! Where did you meet her?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was some years ago—we met at the house +of some mutual friends—abroad. A noble woman, +Hermansen, a woman of splendid character."</p> + +<p>"One might almost think you'd been my competitor +there, Holm, what?" said the banker, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Why, I won't say but I might have been inclined.... +But the lady—er—showed better taste, worse +luck," answered Holm, with a bow.</p> + +<p>"Thanks for the compliment! You're quite a diplomatist, +Holm—I haven't seen you in that rôle before."</p> + +<p>Holm put his head on one side and looked at the +banker with a quizzical expression.</p> + +<p>"Haven't you—though? Not in the little matter +of the Spanish frigate?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes—you had me there, I'm afraid. Very +neatly done, though, very neat. There'll be a nice +little profit on the repairs, I'm sure—but it's all in the +family now."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_130" id="Page_130" title="[Pg 130]"></a> +The conversation was becoming more genial in tone, +and when the cigars were lit the two old antagonists +were chatting away like the best of friends.</p> + +<p>Holm invited the banker to a "little family party" +the same evening, to celebrate the double event. Hermansen +accepted with thanks, and the pair separated +with a cordial shake of the hand.</p> + +<p>Holm walked back to the office with his hat at a +more than usually rakish angle, as was his way when +in high spirits. He swung his stick cheerfully, and +felt a comforting sense of superiority in all directions. +There was no one to oppose him now.</p> + +<p>"Hello, you're looking unusually perky to-day! +What's it all about?" This was from Vindt, who was +sure to be quick on the scent of anything new.</p> + +<p>"I've just come from my so-called brother-in-law, +Hermansen, that's all, my boy."</p> + +<p>"Oho! Distinguished brother-in-law, what?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm quite satisfied with him myself. And—er—h'm—he'll +be my boy's father-in-law too, you +know, in a way."</p> + +<p>Vindt stood a moment sniffing at the stump of his +cigar, then, thrusting one finger into the buttonhole of +Holm's coat, he said solemnly:</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Emilie Rantzau and <a class="corr" name="TC_4" id="TC_4" title="daugher">daughter</a>: Knut G. Holm +and son and Banker Hermansen, Knight of the Order +of Vasa, etcetera. H'm. That's the worst of these +cheap smokes; they stick when you've got half-way. +So long, old stick-in-the-mud!"</p> + +<p>"Queer old stick," said Holm to himself as the other +walked away. "Getting quite crabby of late. But +he ought to have married himself long ago."</p> + +<p>And Holm went home to make arrangements for +a thoroughly festive evening.</p> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_131" id="Page_131" title="[Pg 131]"></a></p> +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X<br /> +THE SHIP COMES HOME</h2> + + +<p>It was Sunday. Bramsen and Andrine had had +a settling up, the day before, of various matters +outstanding, and the savings-bank book had +been handed over, with its "Cr. balance 19s. 6œd."—being +all that remained from the interregnum period +of Bramsen's term of office as Chancellor of the Exchequer.</p> + +<p>Andrine opened the book and stood aghast.</p> + +<p>"But—but, sakes alive, Paal, where's all the money +gone?"</p> + +<p>"The money—why—the money—h'm...." And +in his embarrassment he looked appealingly at Amanda, +who nudged him encouragingly in the ribs and +whispered:</p> + +<p>"Go on—it's all right. Tell her straight out."</p> + +<p>"Why, you see, Andrine, it's like this. When you +handed over charge of all this worldly mammon, +that's naught but vanity and vexation of spirits and +so on, and a clog upon the soul...."</p> + +<p>"Oh, leave out all that and say what you've done with +the money." Andrine was quivering with impatience.</p> + +<p>"Well—I—I bought the ship."</p> + +<p>"Ship—what ship?"</p> + +<p>"The <i>Erik</i>, 216 ton register, B. I. to 1901, 12œ ft. +with full cargo...."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_132" id="Page_132" title="[Pg 132]"></a> +"Overhauled last year," prompted Amanda.</p> + +<p>"Heavens! Fool that I was not to have known +what you'd be up to. And now here we are as penniless +as Adam and Eve."</p> + +<p>Andrine held her apron to her eyes, weeping "buckets +and hosepipes" as Bramsen later put it to Holm.</p> + +<p>Bramsen and Amanda were alarmed at the way she +took it, and endeavoured to console her as best they +could. Neither said a word as yet about Amanda's +engagement; it was plain that to mention it now +would bring on a seizure at least.</p> + +<p>"Oh—oh—oh, how could I be such a fool!" sobbed +Andrine.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, to tell the truth, Andrine, I'd never +have thought it of you myself, to take up with the +like of that nonsense. But seeing we've got you back +again now, safe and sound, why, best say no more +about it."</p> + +<p>"What—whatever did you want to go buying ships +for, Bramsen?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you see, it was mostly because of Carljohan...." +Bramsen in his eagerness had said too +much, and Amanda judged it best to disappear into +the kitchen for a while.</p> + +<p>"Carljohan who?" Andrine stopped crying and +looked up sharply.</p> + +<p>"Why, Johnsen's son."</p> + +<p>"What's he got to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, he's a deal to do with it, now he and Amanda's +fixed things up together."</p> + +<p>"Amanda! That child! And you let them!" +Andrine drew herself up impressively, and Bramsen +cowered.</p> + +<p>"Don't you forget, Andrine," he said, "we weren't<a class="pagenum" name="Page_133" id="Page_133" title="[Pg 133]"></a> +so very old, you and I, when we got spliced together; +and he's a first-rate lad. There isn't a knot or a twist +he doesn't know, and you should see him up aloft—a +cat's not in it. And wrestling too—mark my words, +he'll make his way in the world, and I'm sorry for the +man that comes athwart him."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, you can talk! But seems to me you've +been doing your best to ruin us all while I've been +away."</p> + +<p>"We're not ruined yet, my girl, nor likely to be, I +hope. Just wait and see." And Bramsen patted his +wife on the cheek.</p> + +<p>Andrine calmed down after a while, and when +Amanda came in with steaming coffee and hot cakes, +the three sat down in peace and amity, and were soon +discussing the excellent qualities of Carljohan and the +ship.</p> + +<p>"It's been pretty rough these last few days—we'll +soon see what she's good for," said Bramsen, thinking +of the ship.</p> + +<p>"If only they come home safe and sound," sighed +Amanda, thinking of Carljohan.</p> + +<p>And so, on Sunday morning, behold the three of +them walking down to church; neither Bramsen nor +Amanda thought of playing truant to-day, so thankful +were they to feel that Andrine had "come round" +and all was well.</p> + +<p>And Bramsen was, to tell the truth, relieved to have +got it over. With the bank-book once more in Andrine's +care, he felt the responsibility lifted from his shoulders. +The reins of government were once more in Andrine's +hands, and he had his ten shillings extra per month +unbeknown to her as before.</p> + +<p>Amanda had always chosen their place in church<a class="pagenum" name="Page_134" id="Page_134" title="[Pg 134]"></a> +up in the gallery close to the pulpit. From here +one could see the parson turning the leaves of his +sermon, and so calculate roughly how far he was +from the end. Furthermore, there was the loveliest +view over the harbour and the fjord through one of +the big windows.</p> + +<p>There had been a number of wrecks during the +recent gales, and Amanda could not keep her thoughts +from Carljohan and his ship. The voice of the parson, +and the singing rang in her ears like the rush of waters; +she sat staring blankly at her hymn-book, open at +No. 106, though there had been three since that.</p> + +<p>Once or twice she woke, to hear her father's voice +trailing behind the rest in a hymn, sounding all through +the church, till people turned to look. Amanda +flushed with embarrassment, but Bramsen went on +all unconscious, plodding through each verse in his +own time, regardless of the rest.</p> + +<p>But always she fell back upon her own thoughts, +of the ship and Carljohan; it was a wonder to her +how Mother Christiansen, whose husband was also on +board, could sit there so calmly, as if there was nothing +to fear. And she with all those children to think of!</p> + +<p>The sermon now—but Carljohan was out on the +North Sea and terrible weather. Great seas breaking +over the bows, till the fo'c'stle was almost hidden.</p> + +<p>And up in the rigging was Carljohan shortening +sail—oh, how the vessel pitched and rolled, till the +yards almost touched the water.</p> + +<p>If he should lose his hold—if he should be swept +away—Amanda gasped at the thought, and clutched +her father's hand.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Amanda? Are you ill?" whispered +Bramsen anxiously<span class="corr" title="added: .">.</span></p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_135" id="Page_135" title="[Pg 135]"></a> +"No, no; only keep still. I'll be all right directly."</p> + +<p>The organ pealed and the sound of the hymn filled +the church.</p> + +<p>Amanda could not sing a note; she was certain +now that something had happened to Carljohan. Her +tears flowed in streams, and she was hard put to it +to hide them behind handkerchief and book.</p> + +<p>She could hear Mother Christiansen's cracked voice +just behind, and tried in vain to join in herself.</p> + +<p>Already she glanced out of the big window beyond +the choir. On the farther side of the harbour lay a +vessel at anchor.</p> + +<p>But—it had not been there before! Surely ... yes, +it was a vessel just in—its flag still flying!—Heavens, +it was the <i>Erik</i>!</p> + +<p>She stood up to make sure. Yes, it was she. It +was she! There was the big white figure-head—there +was no mistake.</p> + +<p>And Amanda joined in the singing with her masterful +voice, till those near at hand looked at her in wonder. +Bramsen himself stopped singing for a moment to +listen. Then he took up the verse again and sang on +bravely as before.</p> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_136" id="Page_136" title="[Pg 136]"></a></p> +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI<br /> +THE CONCERT</h2> + + +<p>There was to be an evening concert at the +Assembly Rooms. The local papers for the +previous day had leading articles about "Hans +Martinsen, the boy musician who has been studying +in Christiania, and is now appearing for the first time +in public in his native town. Critics from all quarters +are unanimously agreed as to his remarkable talent, and +already prophesy a brilliant future, though his powers, +at this early stage, have naturally not yet attained +their full development. It is to be hoped that the +music-loving section of our community will be numerously +represented, that the promising young artist may +receive the support and encouragement he deserves."</p> + +<p>The fine hall was splendidly illuminated. The +great windows fronting the street shed a glow of +light over the crowd of staring idlers outside.</p> + +<p>Malla Trap crossed the road, making towards the +entrance, but meeting a group of young girls who +were admiring the illuminations, she stopped to speak +to them.</p> + +<p>"Well, children, going to the concert?"</p> + +<p>"No—o," answered one or two regretfully, curtsying +as they spoke. They knew Miss Trap as a sister +at the poor school, which most of them had attended.</p> + +<p>"Well, come along, and I'll get you in."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_137" id="Page_137" title="[Pg 137]"></a> +The girls followed delightedly, and Malla Trap took +tickets for them all.</p> + +<p>Across the bridge came Hans Martinsen, with his +mother. On reaching the entrance he had to stop +and look round, everyone was nodding and waving to +him in kindly greeting.</p> + +<p>"Good-day, Hans!" came in a fresh young voice +behind him. He turned, and saw a girl smiling and +nodding. "I'm coming in to hear you play." And +she waved a big yellow ticket.</p> + +<p>"Why, surely—is it you, Amanda? How are you +getting on?"</p> + +<p>"Splendid, thanks. This is Carljohan; he's just +come back from a voyage."</p> + +<p>"And your father and mother? Give them my +love, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Thanks, I will. Oh, but Hans"—she came close +to him and whispered—"Dear Hans, <em>do</em> play 'The +Little Fisher-Maid' to please me—will you?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure if I can, Amanda."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course you can. Why, you played it +hundreds of times at old Clemmetsen's."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll see.... But I must go in now. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>The great hall was filled to overflowing. All the +musical element was present as a matter of course, +and in addition a number of those who never went +to concerts as a rule, as for instance the Mayor and +Broker Vindt, who took seats at the back. Up in the +gallery were a number of Hans' old schoolfellows, +all greatly excited at the event.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the buzz of talk was hushed, and all eyes +were turned towards a group coming up the centre +of the hall.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_138" id="Page_138" title="[Pg 138]"></a> +It was Banker Hermansen, still and solemn, with +Mrs. Rantzau, fresh and smiling, at his side. Behind +them walked William Holm and Miss Rantzau, +evidently somewhat embarrassed by the general +scrutiny.</p> + +<p>Holm senior, who was also one of the party, lagged +behind a little, stopping to exchange a word with the +Mayor and his friend.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rantzau found her place in one of the upper +rows, and stood looking down for Holm, beckoning +with a smile when she caught his eye. She let her +gaze wander over the assembly, and something like +a murmur of applause went up. Mrs. Rantzau was +undeniably a splendid woman, and was at her best +that evening.</p> + +<p>"Get along up to the front with you, old fossil," +said Vindt, with a friendly nudge, and Holm walked +up, nodding genially to acquaintances all round.</p> + +<p>"Fine figure of a woman, what?" whispered the +Mayor, glancing towards Mrs. Rantzau.</p> + +<p>"H'm," said Vindt. "Handsome enough to look +at, but a bit of a handful to look after, if you ask me. +Like the cakes in a cookshop window—I like 'em, but +they don't agree with me!"</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>There was silence in the hall as the first notes rang +out. All were watching the young performer; a +little anxiously perhaps, as if in fear lest he should +break down. And all felt that in some degree the +honour of the town was here at stake, for the boy was +one of their own.</p> + +<p>But the little figure at the piano sat calm and free +from nervousness; he was in another world, where he +felt himself at home. The watching eyes and listening<a class="pagenum" name="Page_139" id="Page_139" title="[Pg 139]"></a> +ears did not trouble him; he seemed gazing inwardly +at a starry sky far above them all.</p> + +<p>The music swelled and sank, now wild and furious +as the north-east wind raging over the rocky coast in +autumn, then gentle as the evening breeze of a summer's +day.</p> + +<p>Eyes glistened now with fervour, hearts beat +proudly. All present seemed to share in his happiness, +to have some part in the triumph of his +genius.</p> + +<p>The applause was hearty and unanimous.</p> + +<p>"Bravo, Hans!" came a deep voice from the +gallery. All turned to see who had spoken. Ah, +there—it was Bramsen, standing up with both hands +outstretched and clapping thunderously.</p> + +<p>Amanda flushed with embarrassment, and nudged +her father to make him stop. But he snapped out +impatiently, "You leave me alone!" and went on +clapping.</p> + +<p>Among the numerous extras was a "Ballad theme +with variations," which the more exacting critics considered +somewhat out of place. One there was, however, +who thought otherwise, and that was Amanda. +The soft, swaying rhythm of "The Little Fisher-Maid" +filled her with delight, and she clapped as enthusiastically +as her father had done.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>"Father, I think I've learned something from that +concert this evening," said William, as they walked +home.</p> + +<p>"Well, my boy, and what was that?"</p> + +<p>"Why, that genius is like pure gold; if Nature +hasn't put it there it's no use trying to make it."</p> + +<p>"You're right, my son. And sensible people don't<a class="pagenum" name="Page_140" id="Page_140" title="[Pg 140]"></a> +try. It's no good setting up to do the work of your +Creator. What do you say, Banker?"</p> + +<p>"Eh, what's that?" Hermansen was walking arm +in arm with Mrs. Rantzau, and the pair of them were +evidently oblivious of all but each other.</p> + +<p>"I say, the best thing we can do in this life's to live +like sensible people."</p> + +<p>"<em>Errors and omissions excepted</em>," answered the +banker, and he pressed his fiancée's hand long and +tenderly.</p> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_141" id="Page_141" title="[Pg 141]"></a></p> +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII<br /> +OLD NICK</h2> + + +<p>"This where Petter Nekkelsen lives?"</p> + +<p>The speaker was an awkward-looking lad, +acting as postman in Strandvik for the +first time.</p> + +<p>"No, you muddlehead." Old Lawyer Nickelsen +held out his hand for the letters. "This is where +Peder, comma, N. Nickelsen, full stop, lives. And a +nice lot of louts they've got going around, that can't +learn to call folk by their proper names!"</p> + +<p>Thor Smith, the magistrate's clerk, was of the same +opinion, but liked a touch of honest dialect occasionally; +he was not unwilling on occasion to contradict Old Nick.</p> + +<p>"Honest dialect, indeed! Rank impertinence, I +call it! But wait a bit, young fellow; in a few years' +time you'll be wishing these understrappers at the +North Pole, or some other cool place."</p> + +<p>The two men filled their pipes, and took up their +position on the veranda of Lawyer Nickelsen's house, +continuing their discussion as to the merits of natural +simplicity, concerning which they held diametrically +opposite views.</p> + +<p>The lawyer was a bachelor of sixty-seven, and kept +what he called a home for young men of decent behaviour +and tolerable manners. In particular he had, +ever since he first came to the place forty-three years<a class="pagenum" name="Page_142" id="Page_142" title="[Pg 142]"></a> +earlier, kept open house for the magistrate's clerks +successively, taking them under his paternal care and +protection from their first entering on their duties in +the town.</p> + +<p>Smith and Nickelsen sat on the veranda, but somehow +the discussion fell curiously flat. Smith was +unusually absent and uncommunicative, to such a +degree that Nickelsen at last asked him point blank +what was the matter.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing. H'm. I say, Nickelsen, that +fellow Prois—he's an intolerable old curmudgeon."</p> + +<p>"Oho, so that's the trouble! Won't have you for +a son-in-law, what?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't talk nonsense."</p> + +<p>Smith stepped aside, and scraped out the tobacco +from the pipe he had just filled, but Old Nick's searching +glance perceived that he had flushed up to the +roots of his hair.</p> + +<p>"My dear Smith, I agree with you that Tulla Prois +is a charming girl. A pity, though, they couldn't find +another name to give her. They were making songs +about it last winter."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't drag in that silly stuff, Nickelsen, for +Heaven's sake. I can't see anything funny in it +myself."</p> + +<p>Old Nick laid down his pipe and put on his glasses, +and sat watching the other with an expression only +half serious. He found himself hard put to it not to +laugh. At last, finding nothing more suitable to say, +he ventured in a tone of unnatural innocence: "Smith, +what do you say to a drink?"</p> + +<p>Old Nick was irresistible. Smith could not help +laughing himself. "Oh, you incorrigible old joker," +he said, giving the other a dig in the ribs.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_143" id="Page_143" title="[Pg 143]"></a> +The ice once broken, and under the influence of a +glass of good Madeira—Old Nick invariably had "something +special" in that line—Smith opened his heart, +and revealed Tulla Prois in the leading rôle of Angel, +etcetera, Papa Prois being cast for the part of hard-hearted +father, or "intolerable old curmudgeon"—which +amounted to much the same thing.</p> + +<p>"I met him yesterday, just come back from +Christiania, with a whole armful of parcels he could +hardly carry. I went up as politely as could be, and +offered to lend a hand, and what d'you think he said?"</p> + +<p>Old Nick shook his head and tried to look interested.</p> + +<p>"Shouted out at the top of his voice so all the street +could hear him, 'No, I'm damned if you do!' Nice +sort of father-in-law that, eh?"</p> + +<p>"There's a dance on at the Seamen's Union to-morrow, +Smith. You're going, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>Smith brightened up at once. "Yes, of course, we +must go; you must come along too, Nickelsen. But—but—isn't +old Prois chairman of the committee?"</p> + +<p>"Quite so—and for that very reason all the more +chance of your meeting your—young lady, I was going +to say."</p> + +<p>"Then you'll come?"</p> + +<p>"Me? Go to a dance, with my gout and all? +Well, I don't know, perhaps I might. Get myself up +spick and span, and have my corns cut specially for +the occasion—I might pass in a crowd, what?"</p> + +<p>The dance took place, and on the following day +Old Nick sat pondering and trying to remember what +had happened after twelve o'clock, his memory being +somewhat defective.</p> + +<p>No—it was no good. He could not remember a +thing. He had a vague recollection of talking to<a class="pagenum" name="Page_144" id="Page_144" title="[Pg 144]"></a> +Tulla Prois, and saying a whole lot of extravagantly +affectionate things, but beyond that all was confusion.</p> + +<p>"Only hope I didn't make a scene, that's all. H'm—Puh—weakness +of mine—infernal nuisance. And +I don't seem to get any better—oh, well, what's the +odds after all!"</p> + +<p>The final note of resignation in his monologue +revived his inexhaustible natural good spirits, and with +a contented smile he sat down to indite the following +letter to Smith, who was, he knew, in court that day:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="b0">"<span class="smcap">Dear Smith</span>,—For various reasons I find myself +unable to recollect anything of last night's happenings. +And being in consequence much troubled in mind lest +something scandalous may have taken place, and my +position of unimpeachable respectability in the town +undermined, you are hereby invited to dine with me +to-day, in order that we can discuss the matter and, +if necessary, find some means of meeting the situation.—Yours,</p> + +<p class="sig">"<span class="smcap">Old Nick</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>Old Martha, Nickelsen's housekeeper, shuffled along +to the court-house, with strict injunctions to bring back +an answer, and returned half an hour later with a +scrap of paper from Smith, on which were scribbled +the following lines in pencil:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear old Friend</span>,—Ten minutes ago I said to +a man convicted of illicit dealing in spirits, 'You are +<i lang="la">in culpa</i>, my good man, and you may as well confess +it first as last.' But at the same moment it struck +me fairly to the heart that I might say the very same +thing to myself.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am <i lang="la">in culpa</i>—— To think that dance +should have proved the occasion of my downfall! So<a class="pagenum" name="Page_145" id="Page_145" title="[Pg 145]"></a> +beautiful she was—and so gracious towards me, that +my heart beat in quiet delight—until that old shark—that +bottle-nosed shark, her father.... Ugh!</p> + +<p>"He got me on to talking politics, and I, fool that +I was, I took the bait, declared myself a Republican, +Jacobin, Anarchist, showed myself a thousand times +worse than I am, simply because the sight of his +bottle-nosed caricature of a face turned me sour. +Fool, fool that I was! I forgot he was her father, +and now my hopes are simply done for. The old man +was furious, said he couldn't forget me, and so on. +So altogether I am utterly miserable, not to say +desperate. For I know if I'm to lose Tulla Prois, +then——</p> + +<p class="b0">"I shall come round to dinner. Thanks.—Yours,</p> + +<p class="sig">"<span class="smcap">Smith</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>Old Nick sat quietly for a moment, then burst out +laughing, and went out into the garden to hoist the +flag, by way of celebrating—well, had anyone asked +him, he would probably have answered "the morning +after the night before."</p> + +<p>It was nothing unusual, however, for Old Nick to +hoist his flag, especially of late, since Schoolmaster +Pedersen opposite had taken to hoisting "clean +colours."<a name="FNanchor_1" id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> The first time Old Nick saw this, he at +once ordered a huge white sheet with the Union mark +in one corner. And every time the "clean colours" +were hoisted, up went Old Nick's as well, and his flag +being of uncommon dimensions, hid from the seaward +side not only the opposition flag, but a good deal of +the schoolmaster's house as well.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1" id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> "Clean Colours"—the Norwegian flag without the Union +mark, <i>i.e.</i> as repudiating the Union with Sweden.</p></div> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_146" id="Page_146" title="[Pg 146]"></a> +At dinner that evening Old Nick did his utmost to +make things cheerful, but in vain; Smith was miserable, +and miserable he remained.</p> + +<p>"You don't know what feeling is, Nickelsen—or +else you've forgotten."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear fellow, I only wish I had a mark for +every time I've been in love."</p> + +<p>"In love, you! You don't know what it is."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my boy, and seriously, too. I'll tell you +what happened to me one time at Kongsberg that +way. I was clerk to old Lawyer Albrektsen, and +lived a gay bachelor life up there. The local chemist +was a man named Walter, and had four daughters, one +prettier than the others; but the eldest but one was +a perfect picture of a girl, bright and cheery, and with +a pink-and-white complexion, you never saw. Enough +to turn the head of any son of Adam, I assure you. +We went for walks and danced together, and were +really fond of each other; in a word, the double barrel +of our hearts was just on the point of going off—when +an event occurred which severed once and for all the +tender bonds that were about to unite Petrea Walter +and yours truly.</p> + +<p>"It was my birthday, the twentieth November, as +you know, and I had a few friends coming round in +the evening, as usual, to celebrate the occasion. The +punch was made in the old style, with Armagnac and +acid. Well, we got more and more lively as the +evening went on, and one bowl after another was +emptied. And then came the disaster; we ran out +of acid. Punch without acid was not to be thought +of—and there were no such things as lemons in those +days. Well, the fellows all voted for going round to +the chemist's and ringing him up for more. I tried<a class="pagenum" name="Page_147" id="Page_147" title="[Pg 147]"></a> +all I knew to keep them from it, but they couldn't +hear a word, and at last off we all went to Master +Walter's.</p> + +<p>"We lowered down all the oil lamps in the street +on our way—this incidentally, as illustrating the distressingly +low degree of civilisation in Kongsberg in +those days.</p> + +<p>"When we got to the place, the first floor was all +in darkness. There she lay asleep, up there, my +beloved Petrea! All dark and silent everywhere, +only a faint gleam from the lamp in the shop below +shone out into the street. I begged my friends to +keep quiet, while I tried as softly as could be to wake +up the man in charge. But alas, fate willed it otherwise. +Carl Henrik, my old friend, was by way of +being a poet, and never lost a chance of improvising +something. He stood up on the steps 'to make a +speech,' but just as he was going to begin, the door +opened, and there was old Walter himself in dressing-gown +and slippers, with a candle in his hand. Carl +Henrik made an elegant bow, and reeled off at once:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iminus">'Good Master Walter, we confess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's wrong to wake you up like this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hear our plea, we pray you, first;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We're simply perishing with thirst,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And since you're there, and know the stuff,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pray let us have it—<em>quantum suff</em>!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Old Walter was furious. 'What the devil!' he +cried out. 'Is the fellow mad?'</p> + +<p>"I dragged Carl Henrik down from the steps, and +went myself, hat in hand, and begged his pardon; said +we were awfully sorry, we thought it was the assistant +on duty. 'Well, and what then—is anyone ill?' +'Why, no, sir, I'm glad to say, but it's my birthday<a class="pagenum" name="Page_148" id="Page_148" title="[Pg 148]"></a> +to-day, that's all.'—'Yesterday, you mean,' roars out +Carl Henrik from below.—'It's my birthday, and I +only wanted to ask if you'd let us have a little acid +for the punch.'</p> + +<p>"'I'll give you punch,' said the old man, and landed +out at me, sending me headlong down the steps into +the arms of the poet; Carl Henrik urging me to bear +up bravely against what he called the blows of fate.</p> + +<p>"I met Petrea out next day, but the moment she +caught sight of me she slipped across the street into +the flower shop opposite. I waited outside a full +hour, but no sight of Petrea—she must have gone +out the back way so as not to meet me. Well, that +was the end of the first Punic war, my dear Smith, +and I left Kongsberg with a wounded heart—though +I'm bound to say it healed up again all right pretty +soon."</p> + +<p>Smith had brightened up considerably by now, but, +try as he would, he could not admit that Old Nick's +experience as related was analogous to the present +situation.</p> + +<p>"I tell you, Nickelsen, this is a serious affair; as a +matter of fact, we're—we're secretly engaged, Tulla +and I."</p> + +<p>"Uf!" said Old Nick; he had nearly broken the neck +of a bottle of old Pontet Canet he was opening. Old +Nick drank a glass, sniffed at the wine, put on a serious +air and said solemnly:</p> + +<p>"It's getting cloudy."</p> + +<p>Smith hung his head; he found the situation +cloudy.</p> + +<p>"What do you think I ought to do? Go up and +beg old Prois's pardon?" asked Smith.</p> + +<p>Old Nick sat for quite a while thinking deeply,<a class="pagenum" name="Page_149" id="Page_149" title="[Pg 149]"></a> +holding the Pontet Canet up to the light. "H'm—h'm." +Then suddenly he jumped up, and slapped +Smith on the back with a serviette.</p> + +<p>"We can save the situation. I've got an idea. +We'll get up a public banquet for old Prois. Yes, +that's what I say. And we'll send out the invitations +ourselves—you and I."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear man, you can't give a public banquet +without some sort of pretext, and what are we to +tell people it's for? Old Prois he's warden of the +Pilot's Guild, but he hasn't done anything notable +in the town, that I'm aware of, up to now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we must find something or other. Let me +see—he's on the Health Committee—no, that won't do."</p> + +<p>"He lent a flag to the committee for the Constitution +Day festivities," said Smith sarcastically.</p> + +<p>"No, that's not enough. But wait a bit. He +must have been on the Rates Committee twenty-five +years now—yes, of course. That's the very thing. +I'll be chairman, you can be secretary. Dinner at +Naes's Hotel on Saturday next—make it a Saturday, +so folk can have Sunday to sleep it off after."</p> + +<p>Smith was very doubtful still.</p> + +<p>"But suppose he thinks it's a hoax—then we'd be +worse off than before."</p> + +<p>"A hoax!" said Old Nick. "Well, so it is in a way, +but nobody'll know except you and me. All the +others will take it up as easy as winking. Only give +them a decent dinner, man, and they'll be ready +enough, all the lot of them; there's always room for a +bit of a spread of that sort, and we've had nothing +now for quite a while. No, all we've got to do now +is to get out the invitations first of all. Hand me the +pen and ink over there."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_150" id="Page_150" title="[Pg 150]"></a> +And the pair of them sat down and drew up the +following in due form:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="bqheading b0">"<span class="smcap">Invitation</span></p> + +<p class="b0">"A Public Banquet will be given on Saturday, the +17th October 1887, at 4 p.m., at Naes's Hotel, to +celebrate the occasion of our esteemed fellow-citizen, +Warden Prois, completing his twenty-fifth year of +service on the Rates Committee. Menu will comprise +three courses, plus dessert and one half-bottle of wine, +coffee and liqueur, at 4s. per head.</p> + +<div class="sigblockfloat"> +"<span class="smcap">The Committee</span>.<br /> +<div class="sigfloat">"<span class="smcap">Nickelsen</span>,<br /> +<span class="l2"><span class="corr" title='removed: "'></span>Chairman.</span></div> +<div class="sigfloat"><span class="corr" title='added: "'>"</span><span class="smcap">Smith</span>,<br /> +<span class="l2">Secretary."</span></div> +</div><br style="clear:both"/></div> + +<p>As soon as Old Nick had finished the draft, a heated +discussion took place as to the price to be fixed per +head. Smith was of opinion that four shillings and +three courses was too little, and would appear mean +to the guest of honour. To this Old Nick retorted +that they could not well go higher than four shillings +if they were to get the "rank and file" to come +at all—this category including such personages as +Pettersen the watch-maker, Blomberg the tailor, and +other esteemed fellow-citizens, who would gladly +share in the honour, but were forced to consider the +limitations of their purse.</p> + +<p>Smith also objected to the word "committee" +under the invitations. "We're not a committee," +he urged.</p> + +<p>"Aren't we, though," said Old Nick. "You and +I—that's committee enough for anything. And +besides, it's the proper thing on these occasions, +makes it look more official like." And so it was agreed<span class="corr" title="added: .">.</span></p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_151" id="Page_151" title="[Pg 151]"></a> +Old Nick then set out on a round to gather in +recruits for the banquet. First of all the parson and +the doctor must be got hold of; these two agreed at +once without any difficulty, being comparatively new +arrivals in the place, and taking Lawyer Nickelsen's +recommendation as sufficient.</p> + +<p>Next came Halvor Berg, the biggest shipowner in +the town, and known to all as a cautious and particular +man, much sought after by the natives in all matters +requiring assistance and advice. He was thus an +influential man, and it was important to get him to +subscribe, for the first thing people would ask was +sure to be, whether Halvor Berg was coming.</p> + +<p>Old Nick and Halvor Berg were good friends, so the +reception in this case was good enough. They chatted +comfortably for a while, more especially about Berg's +boats, the <i>Seaflower</i>, <i>Ceres</i>, and so on, until Old Nick +suddenly produced his list. "Oh, by the way, I +want your name to this, Halvor. I ought by right to +have taken it round to the old magistrate first, he's +waiting for it, but it won't matter if you sign now +while I'm here."</p> + +<p>"Sign?" said Halvor Berg, and proceeded to study +the document with great earnestness. Old Nick +occupied himself meantime in surreptitiously setting +the pointer of Halvor Berg's barometer down to +hurricane level.</p> + +<p>At last, having ploughed his way conscientiously +through the invitation, Berg looked up, with a searching +glance at Old Nick, who faced him without moving +a muscle.</p> + +<p>"H'm. H'mmm—look here, you know, Nickelsen, +don't you think we could find some one else to give +a banquet for instead of Prois?"</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_152" id="Page_152" title="[Pg 152]"></a> +"Well, no, I can't see that we could. I don't know +anyone else that's been on the Rates Committee for +twenty-five years."</p> + +<p>"He'd have been more use to the place if he hadn't +been on it at all," grumbled the other.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, if you don't feel inclined to join with +the leading people in the town on such an occasion, +why...." Old Nick began folding up the list, but +very slowly.</p> + +<p>"Of course I'll come in—only I can't see what he's +done to deserve it, hang me if I can."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Halvor Berg, you can surely understand +that when the parson, the doctor and myself go +in for a thing like this, we've some reason for it."</p> + +<p>"All right, all right! Hand me the list, then."</p> + +<p>And he wrote with big, sprawling letters "H. Berg," +at the same time inquiring whether an after-dinner +toddy was included in the four shillings.</p> + +<p>On leaving Halvor Berg's, Old Nick regarded the +matter as settled; when this cautious old card had +put his name, the rest of them would soon follow +after.</p> + +<p>Sukkestad, the dealer, was inclined to hesitate, and +could not make out what Prois had really done either, +but since Halvor Berg was in it, why, he might as well +put down his four shillings too.</p> + +<p>Apothecary Peters, who had only been a week in +the place, was most grateful for the honour done him +in inviting him to be present, and insisted on paying +down his four shillings on the spot—at which Old Nick +was incautious enough to remark that it was not wise +to skin your beast before you'd killed him—Old Prois +being the beast.</p> + +<p>The rest followed as one man, and by the evening<a class="pagenum" name="Page_153" id="Page_153" title="[Pg 153]"></a> +the list counted over sixty names, from all classes of +society. Even old Klementsen, who had been parish +clerk for fifty years, without getting so much as a silver +spoon for his trouble, set down his name with a smile, +albeit with an inward gnashing of teeth.</p> + +<p>Thor Smith sat up in the magistrate's office, sweating +over a taxation case. In the inner office was the old +magistrate himself, with his wig awry, smoking his +coarse-cut tobacco.</p> + +<p>"Filthy hole of a place this is," soliloquised Smith. +"Hang me if it isn't enough to make a man weep. I +wonder how Old Nick's getting on with that list now? +Oh, it's no good, I know; things never do go right." +He glanced out of the window and up along the street, +in case Old Nick might be coming along.</p> + +<p>But—what on earth—a green tartan frock, and a +toque with a white feather—she herself! He placed +himself in the window, as if by accident—aha, she +catches sight of him. And such a blush—and then +she looks down. Won't she look up again? Yes, +just once.</p> + +<p>A smile of understanding, and she hurries away, as +if from some deed of guilt. Thor Smith flattened his +nose against the pane, staring after her as long as he +could still see a thread of the green skirt, and for some +time after.</p> + +<p>He was awakened from his reverie by the magistrate +himself, who came up behind and looked over his +shoulder inquisitively.</p> + +<p>"Well, and what are we looking out at, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, only those two funny old women over in the +woollen shop; I never saw such queer things as they +are."</p> + +<p>"Nothing to look at in them that I can see," said<a class="pagenum" name="Page_154" id="Page_154" title="[Pg 154]"></a> +the magistrate, who was by no means a woman-hater. +And, taking his hat and stick, he bustled out.</p> + +<p>A moment later Old Nick entered, flushed and out +of breath. "Old man in?"—"No."—"Good!" He +flung himself down in a chair and handed the list +across to Smith.</p> + +<p>"Puh! Devil take it, but this is hard work. And +all for you and your lady-love. You don't deserve +it."</p> + +<p>Smith took the list and began counting the names. +"Seventy-two—why, that's splendid, Nickelsen; you're +a trump."</p> + +<p>"Yes; don't you think I deserve a medal for it, +what? Oh, by the way, though, we must hurry up +and get hold of Prois himself now, or we'll have somebody +else telling him all about it beforehand."</p> + +<p>The esteemed fellow-citizen was busy down at the +waterside, with a big pile-driver repairing the landing-stage. +The men hauled at the ropes, while he stood +by, calling the time in approved sing-song: "And one +ohoy, and two ohoy, and three...." he stopped short +at sight of Smith and Nickelsen approaching. He +looked by no means pleased as he handed over command +to Pilot Iversen, and told him to carry on with the +pile-driving.</p> + +<p>Tulla Prois was in the kitchen, making fish-balls; +but on seeing the three men enter in solemn procession, +she ran off in a fright to the attic, hid herself +in a corner and burst out crying violently; evidently +the matter was to be decided now once and for all. +"Oh, it's mean of Thor," she murmured. "Why +couldn't he wait till father was in a better temper?"</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Old Prois was wondering what on earth +the two men could want with him.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_155" id="Page_155" title="[Pg 155]"></a> +He did not even glance at Smith, but when they +got inside, invited them both to sit down.</p> + +<p>Old Nick settled himself on a big birchwood sofa, +with soft springs, into which he sank about half a foot +deep. Above the sofa hung a picture of the "Cupid" +(Captain Prois), with the port of Hull in the background, +and all the seamen wearing stovepipe hats.</p> + +<p>Old Nick cleared his throat a little, and started off +with his introduction, pointing out the meritorious +work of his host on the committee during the "considerable +span of years" which he had devoted to the +service of the community.</p> + +<p>Prois sat dumbfounded, at a loss to understand what +was coming.</p> + +<p>At last, thinking he had sufficiently stimulated the +other's curiosity, Old Nick came to the point:</p> + +<p>"Consequently, and, I should add, chiefly at the +instigation of my friend Smith, as secretary of the +said committee, our fellow-citizens have empowered +us to request the honour of your presence, my dear +Warden, at a ceremonial banquet, to take place on +Saturday next at 4 p.m., where we may hope to—er—find +some suitable expression for our feelings—er, h'm—our +appreciation of the fact that you have been for +twenty-five years so closely associated with this important—this +<em>most</em> important of our local institutions."</p> + +<p>Old Prois flushed slightly, tried to look unmoved, +coughed, and finally requested the pair to "take a +seat"—which they had already taken—and then +rushed out into the passage calling in a voice of +thunder for "Tulla, Tulla!" Then out to the kitchen, +to send the maid to find her.</p> + +<p>Meantime Old Nick sat stuffing an embroidered +antimacassar into his mouth, laughing till the<a class="pagenum" name="Page_156" id="Page_156" title="[Pg 156]"></a> +cushioned sofa and the picture above shook in dismay. +He made faces at Smith, who, however, was not in +the mood to appreciate the humour of the situation, +which fact seemed further to increase Old Nick's +amusement.</p> + +<p>At last came a voice outside—"Where the deuce +have you been, child? Hurry up and bring in some +cakes and wine at once." Old Nick threw the antimacassar +under the sofa, and his face resumed its +most serious expression.</p> + +<p>"Excuse my running off a moment, gentlemen, but +I—er—you must allow me to offer you a glass of wine, +with my best thanks for the invitation. I—er—really, +it's too good of you, I must say. I'm sure I haven't +done anything special for the place, but—well, since +my esteemed fellow-citizens are good enough to think +so, why...."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure, Warden, your work has been most +arduous and most valuable," said Smith, "and as +secretary myself, you must allow me to judge." He +spoke with some warmth, hearing Tulla approaching +with the wine—and indeed the girl was trembling +to such a degree that the glasses rang like a peal of +bells.</p> + +<p>Smith greeted her somewhat bashfully as she entered, +but Old Nick chucked her under the chin in his +superior paternal manner, and asked how she had got +on at the dance. Thor Smith nudged his friend <a class="corr" name="TC_5" id="TC_5" title="surreptitously">surreptitiously</a> +as a sign to him that the subject was one +better left alone.</p> + +<p>Old Prois poured out the wine, expressing his +thanks for the honour anew, and drank a glass in the +kindliest manner with Smith, the latter flushing with +pleasure. Tulla stood over by the piano, intently<a class="pagenum" name="Page_157" id="Page_157" title="[Pg 157]"></a> +occupied in putting her music in order, and wondering +what on earth it all meant.</p> + +<p>Old Nick was suddenly seized with a fit of coughing, +under cover of which he managed to empty his glass +of Muscatel into a flower-pot by the window. Then, +catching sight of a hen crossing the courtyard, he +developed an enthusiastic interest in Black Minorcas +and White Leghorns. Prois, it should be mentioned, +was a keen fowl-fancier, and had a whole collection of +prize medals from various exhibitions, of which he was +particularly proud.</p> + +<p>Naturally enough, then, Old Nick had to be shown +the fowl-runs, though until that date his fondness for +the tribe had been exclusively confined to the table. +He and his host accordingly went out together.</p> + +<p>This left Thor Smith and his Tulla alone, blessing +the Black Minorcas and the White Leghorns impartially, +and not forgetting Old Nick; while for the rest, +they utilised the opportunity just as other sensible +young people in love would, to wit, by settling down +in the big sofa and exchanging kisses under the +"Cupid," while the men down at the landing-stage +chanted their "one ahoy, and two ahoy, and three...." +The pile-driver had got to sixteen when they +heard Old Nick's voice outside: "Yes, those white-cheeked +Leghorns are splendid, really splendid."</p> + +<p>And Thor Smith and his Tulla judged it best to wake +up from love's young dream.</p> + +<p>The Banquet was a magnificent success; Thor +Smith's speech for the guest of honour's family being +particularly notable for the warmth and earnestness +with which it was delivered.</p> + +<p>Dessert and the half-bottle of sherry having been +disposed of, the general feeling, which had been somewhat<a class="pagenum" name="Page_158" id="Page_158" title="[Pg 158]"></a> +dull at first, grew more jovial, and speeches were +numerous. The coffee and liqueurs brought the +diners to the stage of embraces and assurances of +mutual affection. Even Rod and Hansen, the two +shipbrokers, who in the ordinary way hated one +another cordially whenever one closed a charter more +than the other, might be seen drinking together, and +assuring all concerned that never were business competitors +on friendlier terms. Here's luck, Rod, and +Cheer-oh, Hansen!</p> + +<p>Smith and Warden Prois became quite friendly, +not to say intimate, in the course of the evening; +they sat a little apart, in animated discussion of something +or other, but apparently on the best of terms. +And they finished up towards morning by drinking +eternal brotherhood and embracing each +other.</p> + +<p>The guest of honour was escorted to his home by +such members of the party as were still able to keep +their feet; and Old Nick, in a farewell speech, expressed +the wish that he, the Warden, might long +retain the memory of that evening in his head, which +charitable sentiment was greeted with delighted +applause.</p> + +<p>A week after that memorable occasion Thor Smith +went round to the Warden's, and presented himself +in due form as a suitor for the hand of Miss Tulla.</p> + +<p>He had previously arranged with Old Nick, whom +he had visited on the way down, that if all went as +he wished, and the matter was settled at once, he would +wave a handkerchief from the garden steps, so that +Nickelsen, on the look-out at his corner window, would +see, with a glass, the result of the suit.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had Old Nick arrived at his post, glass in<a class="pagenum" name="Page_159" id="Page_159" title="[Pg 159]"></a> +hand, when lo, not one, but two handkerchiefs waved +from the Warden's garden.</p> + +<p>He walked up and down the room, rubbing his hands +in keen gratification, but turned suddenly serious, and +murmured to himself: "Ay, they're the lucky ones, +that don't have to go through life alone. Well, thank +Heaven, I've never been given to grieving over things +myself, and that's a blessing, anyhow." He lit a +cigar, and the passing cloud was wafted away as usual +by his inherent good humour.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't wait any longer; I must go round and +be the first to offer congratulations." And off went +Old Nick, hurrying down the street to the Warden's.</p> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_160" id="Page_160" title="[Pg 160]"></a></p> +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII<br /> +CILIA</h2> + + +<p>"The one who eats most porridge, gets most +meat," said Cilia Braaten, ladling out a +large second helping for Abrahamsen, the +mate, who innocently accepted.</p> + +<p>"No more for me, thanks," said Soren Braaten. +He knew his wife's economical trick of getting her +guests to eat so much of the first course that they had +little cargo space left for the second.</p> + +<p>Cilia Braaten was a woman who could hold her own, +and was regarded as one of the cleverest shipowners +on the fjord, closing charters herself, with or without +a broker.</p> + +<p>Cecilia was her proper name, but she was invariably +called Cilia for short.</p> + +<p>Soren Braaten, her husband, was hardly ever referred +to at all, his wife having charge of everything that +mattered, including the chartering of the two vessels +<i lang="no">Birkebeineren</i> and <i>Apollo</i>—and Heaven help Soren if +he failed to obey orders and sail as instructed by +Madam Cilia.</p> + +<p>Soren was a kindly and genial soul, who would not +hurt a fly as long as he was left to sail his <i lang="no">Birkebeineren</i> +in peace. True, he would grumble once in a while, +when his wife seemed more than usually unreasonable, +and throw out hints that he knew what he was about, +and could manage things by himself.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_161" id="Page_161" title="[Pg 161]"></a> +"Manage, indeed. A nice sort of managing it would +be! What about that time when you fixed <i lang="no">Birkebeineren</i> +for a cargo of coals to the Limfjord, where there's +only ten foot of water, and she draws nineteen? If I +hadn't come and got you out of it, you'd have been +stranded there now." And Cilia threw a glance of +indignant superiority at Soren. The story of that +Limfjord charter was her trump card, and never failed +to quell Soren's faint attempts at retort.</p> + +<p>Altogether, Cilia was unquestionably ruler of the +roost, and managed things as she pleased, not only as +regards Soren and the two ships, but also Malvina, the +only daughter, who, like the rest, obeyed her without +demur.</p> + +<p>Soren had no reason to regret having given the +administration of the household and the business into +her care; for their fortunes throve steadily, and Cilia +was, as mentioned, one of the smartest shipowners +in the fjord. She invariably managed to get hold of +the best freights going; the shipbrokers at Drammen +seemed by tacit consent to give her the first refusal +of anything good.</p> + +<p>All, then, seemed well as could be wished with the +family as a whole, and one would have thought Cilia +herself must be content with things as they were. +This, however, was by no means the case; Cilia had +troubles enough, though, as so often happens, they +were largely of her own making.</p> + +<p>Soren's complete lack of tender feeling was one of +the things that often worried her. It was particularly +noticeable in his letters. He would write, for instance, +in this style:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_162" id="Page_162" title="[Pg 162]"></a> +<p class="b0">"<span class="smcap">Madam Cilia Braaten</span>,—Arrived here in London +fourteen days out from the Sound. All well, and now +discharging cargo. Have drawn £120 from the agents +here, which please find enclosed. I await instructions +as to further movements, and beg to remain—Yours +very truly,</p> + +<p class="sig">"<span class="smcap">S. Braaten</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>Cilia flung the letter in a drawer and raged. Was +this love? The simpleton—he should have been left +to manage things for himself—and where would he +have been then? This was all the thanks one got for +all the toil and trouble. Why couldn't he write letters +like Mrs. Pedersen got from her husband, who was +skipper of the <i>Vestalinde</i>, commencing "My darling +wife," and ending up with "Ever your loving—" +That was something like affection! A very different +thing from Soren's "Yours very truly." Mrs. Cilia was +bursting with indignation.</p> + +<p>She pondered the matter for some time, seeking to +find a way of making Soren a little more demonstrative. +And next time she wrote, she put it to him delicately, +as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="b0">"<span class="smcap">My dearest Husband</span>,—I was very glad to receive +your letter with the £120, but sorry you say nothing +about how you are yourself. I often think affectionately +of you, but there is a coolness about your letters which +makes me quite unhappy to think of. You know I +love you, and you know, too, how sorry I am to have +to send you up into the Baltic so late in the year, but +the freight was so good that I could not refuse it. Put +on warm things, and see you have plenty of good food +on board, and if you make a good voyage of it this +time I hope to have another nice remittance from you<a class="pagenum" name="Page_163" id="Page_163" title="[Pg 163]"></a> +before Christmas. And do let us agree for the future +to sign our letters—'<i>Ever your loving</i>'</p> + +<p class="sig">"<span class="smcap">Cilia Braaten</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>The result of this appeal to Soren's tender feelings +was not long delayed. It happened that Gudmunsen, +skipper of the <i>Apollo</i>, while in Christiania with a cargo +of coal, went on the spree there to such an all-obliterating +extent that Mrs. Cilia received no accounts, and +no freight money. She therefore wrote to Soren, who +was in London, asking him to cable by return what +was to be done with Gudmunsen. The reply came +back as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="b0">"Chuck him out.—Ever your loving</p> + +<p class="sig">"<span class="smcap">Soren Braaten</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>And thenceforward his letters and telegrams were +invariably signed "Ever your loving."</p> + +<p>When Soren came home late that autumn, Cilia +thought he might fairly have a year ashore, as they +had laid by a good deal, and could afford a rest. Soren +grumbled a little, and suggested that it would be desperately +dull hanging about on shore all the summer, +but Cilia undertook to find him entertainment enough. +"We've all that bit of ground down there to plant +potatoes, then the house wants painting, and a new +garden fence—oh yes, and we ought really to have +another well dug round at the back, and——"</p> + +<p>Soren had visions of Cilia standing over him and +ordering him about at these various tasks, while he +toiled in the sweat of his brow. Oh, a nice sort of +rest it would be! No, give him his old place on board, +where he could do as he pleased.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_164" id="Page_164" title="[Pg 164]"></a> +There was no help for it, however. Abrahamsen, +the mate, was put in charge of <i lang="no">Birkebeineren</i> that +summer, and Soren had to stay at home.</p> + +<p>Soren Braaten had never had any social position +to speak of in Strandvik, and indeed he had no wish +for anything of the sort. His comrades at the Seamen's +Union were good enough company for him. It was +different with Cilia, however; as their means increased, +she began to feel more and more aggrieved +at never being asked to parties at Holm Berg's or Prois's, +and as for the Magistrate's folk, they never so much +as gave her a glance when she passed them in the +street. And only the other day she had met that +impertinent upstart, Lawyer Nickelsen; if he hadn't +dared to address her simply as "Celia!" Oh, but +she would show them! And she went over her plan—it +was to be carried out this summer, while Soren +was at home. Soren was to be renamed, and appear +henceforward as Soren Braathen—with an "h," +Shipowner. Malvina was to be a lady, and, if possible, +married off to some young man of standing. Then, +surely, the family would be able to take the rank +and position in society to which their comfortable +means entitled them.</p> + +<p>While Cilia was occupied with these reflections in +the kitchen—it was the day <i lang="no">Birkebeineren</i> was to sail—Abrahamsen +and Malvina were sitting in the summer-house +in an attitude eloquent of itself. To be precise, +they were holding each other's hands.</p> + +<p>"It's none so easy for me, Malvina," the mate was +saying, "as a common man, to ask your father and +mother straight out—and there's no such desperate +hurry as I can see till after this voyage."</p> + +<p>With him Malvina agreed, and the loving couple<a class="pagenum" name="Page_165" id="Page_165" title="[Pg 165]"></a> +separated, not without mutual assurances of undying +faith and affection for better or worse, whatever +obstacles might be placed in their way.</p> + +<p>Meantime, Soren Braaten had stolen down to the +cellar, where he had a carefully hoarded stock of +English bottled stout, with which he was wont to +refresh himself at odd moments. Seated on a barrel, +he was enjoying the blessing of life and liquor in deep +draughts, without a care in the world. True, he had +seen through the skylight Malvina and the mate in +what might be construed as a compromising position, +but trusting in this as in all else to Cilia's management, +he took it for granted that she was a party to +the affair.</p> + +<p><i lang="no">Birkebeineren</i> sailed, and Abrahamsen with her, +leaving Soren at home to his fate. The potato-planting +was shelved for the time being, as were the +various other little jobs Cilia had mentioned; her +one idea now was that he should appear as a gentleman +of leisure, which Soren was unfeignedly content to do. +In order, however, that he should not find the life +too monotonous, she found him an occupation which +to her idea was not incompatible with the dignity of +a shipowner he was to look after Fagerlin. Fagerlin +was the big brindled cow, and at present, being summertime, +was allowed to take the air in the garden. +Soren was accordingly charged to see that Fagerlin +behaved herself, and did not eat up the carrots or +the tiger lilies. Soren found the work comparable +to that of the local customs officer, consisting as it +did for the most part in sitting on a bench and smoking, +with back numbers of the <i>Shipping Gazette</i> to while +away the time.</p> + +<p>Cilia, however, was still constantly occupied in<a class="pagenum" name="Page_166" id="Page_166" title="[Pg 166]"></a> +finding further means whereby the family might +attain that position of importance and consideration +in local society which, she was forced to admit, was +lacking at present.</p> + +<p>In this she found an unexpected ally in the person +of Lieutenant Heidt, the magistrate's son, an old +acquaintance from the days when Cilia had been +parlourmaid at the house. True, he had been but a +little boy at the time, but they had never quite lost +sight of each other, and had grown most intimate, +especially of late, since Cilia had taken to lending him +money, in secret.</p> + +<p>Lt. Heidt was of opinion that Soren ought +to go off to some health resort; it was customary +among people of the better class, he declared, to suffer +from gout, or insomnia, or some such fashionable +ailment, necessitating a few weeks' cure at one of the +recognised establishments every summer. "And they +put it in the papers, you know, who's there; it would +look quite nice, say, in the <i>Morning News</i>, to see +Shipowner Braathen, of Strandvik, was recuperating +at So-and-so."</p> + +<p>Cilia found the suggestion excellent, and began +hinting to Soren that he was suffering from sleeplessness +and gout. Soren was astounded, and indeed +was disposed to regard the insinuation of sleeplessness +as a piece of sarcasm, in view of the fact that he +regularly took a couple of hours' nap each day irrespective +of his customary ten hours at night. His +protests, however, were in vain; he must go to Sandefjord, +whether he liked it or not.</p> + +<p>A brand new trunk with a brass plate, inscribed +with the name and title of "Shipowner S. Braathen, +Strandvik," was procured for the occasion, and Soren<a class="pagenum" name="Page_167" id="Page_167" title="[Pg 167]"></a> +was escorted in full procession down to the boat, and +packed off to Sandefjord. Before leaving, he had +been given careful instructions by his better half as +to behaving in a manner suited to his station, and +also furnished with a well-lined pocket-book. This +last was so unlike Cilia that Soren wondered what on +earth had come to her: open-handedness in money +matters had never been a failing of hers—far from it.</p> + +<p>Lt. Heidt and Cilia had further discussed the question +as to whether Malvina ought not to be sent to +some <em>pension</em> abroad, or at least to stay with a +clergyman's family, for instance, somewhere in the +country. This plan, however, was upset by Malvina's +opposition. She flatly refused to do anything of the +sort; and as the girl had inherited a good half at +least of her mother's obstinacy, Cilia realised that it +was hopeless to persist.</p> + +<p>During Soren's absence, Lt. Heidt suggested that +it would be well to use the opportunity and refurnish +the house completely, for, as he said, it would never +do for people in such a position as the Braathens to +have a "parlour" suite consisting of four birchwood +chairs without springs and that horrible plaster-of-Paris +angel that had knelt for the past twenty years +on the embroidery-fringed bracket—it was enough +to frighten decent people out of the house! Cilia +entirely agreed, and only wondered how it was she +herself had never perceived it before; this, of course, +was the reason they had had no suitable society. +But she would change all that. Malvina was highly +indignant when she heard of the proposed resolution. +The parlour was quite nice as it was, to her mind, +and as for the angel, her father had given it to her +when she was a child, and it did not harm anyone;<a class="pagenum" name="Page_168" id="Page_168" title="[Pg 168]"></a> +on the contrary, she loved her angel, and would take +care it came to no hurt.</p> + +<p>Lt. Heidt very kindly offered to go in to Christiania +with Mrs. Cilia and help her choose the furniture; +would indeed be delighted to assist in any way with +the general rearrangement of the Braathen's <i lang="fr">ménage</i>. +Cilia gratefully accepted, and the pair went off accordingly +to the capital, duly furnished with the requisite +funds, which Cilia had drawn from the bank for the +occasion. On the way, she begged her companion to +take charge of the money and act as treasurer; she +had heard that pickpockets devoted their attention +more especially to ladies.</p> + +<p>On arrival, Heidt suggested dining at a first-class +restaurant which he himself frequented, and meeting +on the way there two young gentlemen of his acquaintance, +he introduced them to Mrs. Braathen, and +invited them without further ceremony to join the +party. They were frank, easy-mannered young +fellows, and Cilia took a fancy to them, at once recognising +them as belonging to "the quality."</p> + +<p>And such a dinner they had! Oysters and champagne +to start with, game of some sort, and claret—it +was a banquet to eclipse even the betrothal feast at +Prois's; to which last, it is true, she had not been +invited—but he should repent it, the supercilious old +sweep!</p> + +<p>Heidt's friends, too, proved most entertaining +company, especially the one who, it appeared, was a +poet; he had a store of anecdotes to make one split +one's sides with laughing, and Heidt himself was in +high spirits. He drank with her, and said, "Your +health, mother-in-law," and the others joined in with +congratulations. Cilia could not help laughing, though<a class="pagenum" name="Page_169" id="Page_169" title="[Pg 169]"></a> +she was inclined to consider it rather too much of a +joke. Still, it was all done in such a jovial, irresistible +fashion that she let it pass.</p> + +<p>After the coffee, the whole party set out to make +purchases. First, glassware. Heidt thought it was a +good idea to begin with glasses after dinner; one was +more in the mood for it, he declared. An elegant +service of cut-glass, with the monogram "S. & C. B." +was ordered. Cilia hesitated a little at the delicate, +slender-stemmed wine-glasses, which she declared +would "go to smithereens" in a "twinkling" at the first +washing-up, but was assured that this was the essence +of good taste in such matters, and finally gave in.</p> + +<p>Then came the furniture for the "salon" as Heidt +called it. But when Cilia found herself tentatively +seated on a sofa with a hard, straight back reaching +half-way up the wall, she could not help thinking that +the old one at home was really more comfortable; a +thing like this seemed made to sit upright in, and as +for lying down——! The others, however, declared +it elegant and "stylish," with which she felt she must +agree, and the sofa was accordingly noted. Various +so-called "easy-chairs," which to Cilia's mind were +far from easy, were then added. A round settee with +a pillar rising from the centre was to crown the whole. +Cilia had never seen such an arrangement before, and +was rather inclined to leave it out. But the dealer +explained, "You place the article in the centre of the +apartment, under a chandelier. A palm is set on the +central pillar—and there you are!"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't a nice geranium do instead?" asked +Cilia confidentially.</p> + +<p>"Well—ah—oh, certainly, yes," said the man, and +Cilia agreed.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_170" id="Page_170" title="[Pg 170]"></a> +"Then there are works of art," said Heidt. "No +truly cultured home can be without them." And he +invited Cilia to contemplate a life-size terra-cotta +Cupid. It was terribly expensive, and she did not +really approve of "stark-naked boys" as a decorative +motif, but Heidt and his friends agreed that it was a +"triumph of plastic beauty," and a work of art such +as no one in Strandvik had ever seen, far less possessed. +And Cilia took the Cupid with the rest.</p> + +<p>"Now we're all complete," said Heidt, "and I'll +answer for it, a more recherché little interior than +Shipowner Braathen's it will be hard to find." And +Cilia saw in her mind's eye Lawyer Nickelsen and the +Magistrate himself abashed and humbled before all +this magnificence.</p> + +<p>As for Prois and Holm Berg—poor things, they had +never dreamt of anything like it.</p> + +<p>When they got home, Cilia could not help feeling +that it had been rather a costly outing—but what +matter? The vessels were earning good money.</p> + +<p>There was a letter from Soren, giving his impressions +of Sandefjord.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"<span class="smcap">Mrs. Cilia Braathen, my dear Wife</span>,—I write +this to let you know I have now had fourteen sulphur +baths, kinder being thumped and hammered every +morning from nine to ten, then breakfast, and about +time too, seeing I have to drink five glasses of sulphur +water and one of salts on an empty stomach.</p> + +<p>"In accordance with your instructions, I have duly +informed the doctor here that I am in need of insomnia, +which he assures me will improve with continued +treatment.</p> + +<p class="b0">"There are any amount of people here on the same<a class="pagenum" name="Page_171" id="Page_171" title="[Pg 171]"></a> +business, Danes and Swedes too, and all seem to be +enjoying it like anything, which is more than I can +understand. There's a band plays here all day, but +the days seem to go very slowly all the same. Take +care of yourself till I come back.—Ever your loving</p> + +<p class="sig">"<span class="smcap">S. Braathen</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>Malvina, too, had a letter from her father:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Daughter</span>,—Your letter was a great +comfort to me in this place, which the same I would +liken unto Sodom and Gomorrah, not only for the +sulphur and brimstone but other things beside.</p> + +<p>"It was no surprise to me when you say you are in +love with Abrahamsen, seeing I was watching you +holding hands with him that day in the summer-house.</p> + +<p>"I give you my blessing and welcome, which please +find herewith. He's not much of an expert, as you +might say, in navigation, looking all ways round for +the sun, but with God's help I dare say you'll be able +to manage him. And as for your mother, you'll just +have to square it with her the best you can, which is +more than I ever could myself.</p> + +<p>"I am getting on famously here all round, all except +the insomnia, which I haven't been able to manage +up to now. I still get my night's rest and my afternoon +nap, for all their nasty waters inside and out. But +don't tell your mother I said so, but let her think I'm +getting on that way.</p> + +<p class="b0">"Don't forget to write and let me know how she is +and all that's doing.—Yours respectfully,</p> + +<p class="sig">"<span class="smcap">S. Braathen</span>.</p> + +<p>"P.S.—What you say about Lieutenant Heidt has<a class="pagenum" name="Page_172" id="Page_172" title="[Pg 172]"></a> +written you a love-letter, don't worry about that, but +sufficient unto the day and so on. You can tell him +you could never love anybody that hadn't got his +mate's certificate, which I'm pretty sure he hasn't +nor ever likely to be."</p></div> + +<p>Cilia had a desperately busy time unpacking all the +things from Christiania, but, thanks to Lt. Heidt, who +was always at hand ready to help, the work was soon +got over.</p> + +<p>The house was changed beyond all recognition. +<em>Now</em> let the Prois's and Lawyer Nickelsen come, and +see what they'd say! Lt. Heidt came round every +day now, and was so attentive to Malvina that Cilia +felt all but sure of him already for a son-in-law, and +reproved her daughter severely for being so "stand-offish" +with him. But Malvina, remembering who +was primarily responsible for the deposition of her +plaster angel, and the substitution of a stark-naked +boy, found it impossible to regard the culprit with +anything but marked disfavour.</p> + +<p>Never was Cupid looked upon so sourly by the +fairer sex. Cilia, it is true, had gradually brought +herself to look him straight in the face when she +entered the room, instead of turning aside, but Malvina +still flushed and averted her eyes. The angel at least +was decent; no one need be ashamed of that!</p> + +<p>At last everything was in order, and Cilia was able +to look round proudly on an establishment fitted for +persons of "quality." Hitherto it had always been +her custom to go bareheaded within doors; now, +however, she adopted a dainty white cap with a +cluster of dark red auriculas on top, as befitted a lady +of means and position.</p> + +<p>When Soren came home, the first thing she did was<a class="pagenum" name="Page_173" id="Page_173" title="[Pg 173]"></a> +to usher him into the drawing-room with a triumphant +gesture. There! what did he think of that?</p> + +<p>Soren stood for a moment dumbfounded, and when +at last Cilia invited him to sit down, he took out his +handkerchief, spread it out carefully on the settee, +and seated himself gingerly, glancing up now and +again at the geranium, as if fearing it might fall on +his head.</p> + +<p>At the first opportunity he went off with Malvina +to the wash-house, where the two had a long confabulation, +the end of which was a solemn declaration on the +part of Soren to the effect that his spouse must be "a +trifle wrong in the upper works." And he swore that +she had far more need of the Sandefjord waters than +he had ever had.</p> + +<p>Cilia, of course, must give a party to show off the +establishment in its new finery. Invitations were sent +out on printed cards a week beforehand, the list +including Heidts, Prois's and Lawyer Nickelsen. +Cilia had really half a mind to "leave out all that +haughty lot," but if she did, where would the leaders +of society be at all?</p> + +<p>Soren was ordered to get himself a tail coat for the +occasion. It was his duty as host, Cilia said. But +for the first time in his life Soren refused to obey, +and that so emphatically that his wife was startled. +"If you and all the rest of them can't have me in my +Sunday coat as it is, why, well and good—I'll go out +fishing that day and you can have it all to yourselves." +With which mutinous declaration Soren went out +into the kitchen and confided to Malvina that he'd +"had about enough of all this nonsense." Malvina +cordially agreed, and did her best to keep him in that +frame of mind.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_174" id="Page_174" title="[Pg 174]"></a> +Cilia pondered over the matter for some time; she +had never before known Soren to disregard her injunctions +in that fashion. But let him wait; she'd +give him "Sunday coat" with a vengeance once the +party was well over.</p> + +<p>The first thing Abrahamsen learned when he returned +was news of the wonderful changes Cilia had made in +the house. "Fitted up like a palace," said old Holm +Berg. Then, too, of course, there were plenty of people +to tell him of Malvina's engagement to Lt. Heidt, and +how the latter had been round at the house "every +blessed day all through the summer." Consequently, +it was with heavy heart and ill-forebodings that the +mate set out to call. Fortunately, however, he found +Malvina alone in the front room, cleaning windows, +and was able to arrange a meeting with her in the +wash-house as soon as he had been in to deliver his +report to Cilia. This was soon effected, Cilia being +so occupied with preparations for the party that she +even forgot to ask how much of the freight money +was left.</p> + +<p>Abrahamsen went down then to the wash-house, +where doubts and fears were soon disposed of, despite +the fact that the lovers' affectionate <i lang="fr">tête-à-tête</i> was +interrupted by a violent rattling in the tub, where +Soren kept his bottled beer—the stout, alas, was gone +long since.</p> + +<p>The wash-house cellar was, as Soren put it, his "free +port and patent breakwater" where he could anchor +in safety whenever the waves of domestic strife ran +over high.</p> + +<p>A regular triple-alliance was now concluded between +Soren, Abrahamsen and Malvina to meet the treacherous +plottings of the two remaining powers: Cilia and Lt.<a class="pagenum" name="Page_175" id="Page_175" title="[Pg 175]"></a> +Heidt. The Congress of the wash-house agreed to +adopt and maintain an attitude of armed and watchful +neutrality for the present, only proceeding to open +hostilities in case of need, when concerted action would +be taken according as circumstances might require.</p> + +<p>While this conference was taking place, Lt. Heidt, +who had arrived meantime, was closeted with Cilia +in long and earnest conversation, in the course of +which he declared that his intentions towards Malvina +were entirely honourable, and that it was his dearest +wish to become a son-in-law of the house.</p> + +<p>The Lieutenant was all for an immediate decision, +the engagement then to be publicly declared on the +following day at the party. Cilia, however, foresaw +difficulties in effecting this: it would be necessary to +prepare Malvina gradually for the honour and happiness +in store for her. Finally, it was agreed that Cilia +should use her utmost efforts, and tackle Malvina +that same evening, get a satisfactory answer out of +her if possible, and then fire off the news at dinner +next day. The Lieutenant on his part was to hold +himself in readiness for immediate action at the +opportune moment. The pair then separated, with +assurances of mutual esteem and affection.</p> + +<p>Cilia was so overwhelmed that she was obliged to +remain a full half-hour alone in the splendours of the +newly furnished salon, meditating upon the wonderful +good fortune that was about to fall upon the house. +A real lieutenant, and the magistrate's son to boot—an +alliance with the leading family in the town! Thus +was the name of Braathen to be lifted from the potato-patch +of vulgar insignificance to the gardens of rank +and "quality."</p> + +<p>Abrahamsen, stealing out by by the back way, was<a class="pagenum" name="Page_176" id="Page_176" title="[Pg 176]"></a> +just in time to perceive Lt. Heidt taking leave of Cilia, +and noting the cordiality between the two, he realised +that there was rough weather ahead before he could +hope to lay alongside his dainty prize. He confided +as much to his intimate friend, Thor Smith, the magistrate's +clerk. The latter had an ancient grudge +against young Heidt, who had at one time made some +attempt at cutting him out with Tulla Prois, and that in +the basest manner, which Smith had never forgiven him.</p> + +<p>But he should pay for it—Smith would see to that!</p> + +<p>When Abrahamsen had set forth the position in +detail, Smith pressed his hand, and swore to aid him +by all means in his power. Here at last was a chance +of getting even with his rival.</p> + +<p>That same evening Smith went round for a chat +with Old Nick, as he often did. On reaching the +house, however, the housekeeper informed him that +Nickelsen was engaged in the office—Skipper Braaten +was in there with him.</p> + +<p>Smith pricked up his ears at this, and at once concluded +that the consultation must have something to +do with the matrimonial plans afoot in the skipper's +household.</p> + +<p>He waited, therefore, and a little while later Nickelsen +entered, looking very thoughtful. His air, however, +changed to one of cautious reserve when Smith +greeted him with:</p> + +<p>"Well, have you been through the Code of Matrimonial +Law with Soren Braaten?"</p> + +<p>"What makes you think so?" said Nickelsen.</p> + +<p>"My dear old Nick, don't try that on with me. I've +just heard about it from my particular friend Abrahamsen. +And I don't mind telling you I'm out to put the +brave Lieutenant's nose out of joint if I can."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_177" id="Page_177" title="[Pg 177]"></a> +"H'm—well, it's right enough. And as for the +Lieutenant, why, 'twould be easy enough. But Cilia's +a different matter, now she's got her head puffed up +with all this 'fashionable' nonsense. Old Soren +has fairly got his blood up this time though; he +wanted her declared unfit to act, and a legal guardian +appointed—what do you say to that?"</p> + +<p>"Look here, Nickelsen, what if you and I put our +heads together and fixed it up ourselves for Malvina +and Abrahamsen?"</p> + +<p>"Good Lord above us, what are you thinking of? +Do you want me to play <i lang="fr">postillon d'amour</i> for all the +loving couples in the town?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it's a noble mission, you know, really. Just +think how Tulla and I look up to you with—er—with +affection and esteem—since that banquet affair."</p> + +<p>"You can think yourself lucky it went off as well +as it did," said Old Nick.</p> + +<p>"Oh—this'll come off all right too, you'll see. Come +along, let's set to work and draw up a plan of campaign. +We're getting quite old hands at the game."</p> + +<p>Old Nick was not without some scruples, but after +further pressure he at last consented to give his support +as far as he could.</p> + +<p>As a result of mature deliberation the following +scheme was drawn up, to be submitted to Soren +Braaten and Abrahamsen for consideration:</p> + +<p>1. Soren to arrange that Thor Smith and Abrahamsen +be among the guests invited to the party.</p> + +<p>2. Soren to say a few words of welcome to the guests +at table, whereupon Lawyer Nickelsen would make a +"flowing and eloquent" speech proposing the host +and hostess.</p> + +<p>3. Immediately after this the grand scene, wherein<a class="pagenum" name="Page_178" id="Page_178" title="[Pg 178]"></a> +Soren Braaten, rising again, delivers a speech, prepared +beforehand by Nickelsen and Smith, announcing +Malvina's engagement to Abrahamsen.</p> + +<p>This surprise attack, the conspirators reckoned, +could not fail to throw the enemy's forces into confusion.</p> + +<p>Both, however, knowing Cilia's temper, her energy +and force of character, were agreed that the plan had +its weak points. She might, for instance, prefer to +make a scene rather than surrender unconditionally. +Nevertheless, both Smith and Old Nick thought she +would probably give way; and having regard to the +sound strategic principle that a purely defensive position +is generally untenable, they thought best to +urge the Triple Alliance to take the offensive at the +earliest opportunity.</p> + +<p>No sooner said than done<span class="corr" title="added: .">.</span> Soren and Abrahamsen +were sent for, and lost no time in making their appearance; +both had a feeling that great events were in +the air.</p> + +<p>Meantime, the enemy was not inactive. The +Lieutenant, certain of victory, now that he had +secured so powerful an ally as Cilia, had already confided +his intentions to his father. The magistrate, in his +own mind, could not help thinking that a daughter of +his former parlourmaid was hardly a match for his son, +but on the other hand it might make a man of him. +And the Braatens were said to be quite wealthy people. +Malvina was the only child, so that from that point of +view, no objection could be raised. Finally, he declared +himself willing to give his consent, but, learning +that the engagement was to be formally announced +at dinner on the following day, he became serious, and +went down quietly to his office to prepare a speech<a class="pagenum" name="Page_179" id="Page_179" title="[Pg 179]"></a> +suited to the occasion. His consent to the marriage +was one thing, but he was resolved that it should not +lead to overmuch intimacy between the two families. +And this he was anxious to point out, with all possible +delicacy, of course, but definitely enough to permit of +no misunderstanding.</p> + +<p>The party assembled at Old Nick's, including +Thor Smith, Abrahamsen and Soren Braaten, were +unanimous in declaring the proposed scheme admirable. +The only hesitation was on the part of Soren, +who, being himself cast for the leading part, naturally +felt the risk. The others, however, insisted that no +one else could do it, and he therefore agreed to sacrifice +himself in a forlorn hope for the general good.</p> + +<p>On being handed the speech, carefully written out +by Old Nick himself, Soren scratched his head and +looked thoroughly miserable. He had never made a +speech in his life, and had no sort of confidence in his +declamatory powers. There was no help for it, however, +and with a sigh he thrust the paper into his +waistcoat pocket.</p> + +<p>Before leaving he was instructed to make known +the details of the plan to Malvina, and charge her to +be as amiable as possible to Heidt, in order to avoid +any suspicion in the minds of the others as to the +conspiracy afoot.</p> + +<p>On reaching home, he sought out Malvina and +explained the situation, whereafter the two in concert +managed to get Cilia to invite Thor Smith and +Abrahamsen at the eleventh hour; Cilia herself, as +far as could be seen, had no suspicion of any covert +motive underlying the request.</p> + +<p>Nearly all that night Soren sat up in his bedroom +brooding over the speech. "Gentlemen and—er—h'm—I<a class="pagenum" name="Page_180" id="Page_180" title="[Pg 180]"></a> +should say ladies and gentlemen—er—I rise +to this—I rise on this occasion ..." etc. Soren +toiled at the speech, sweating properly, and cursing +at intervals, till nearly morning. And when at last +he fell asleep, it was only to dream that Old Nick +stood over him, tweaking his nose with the fire-tongs, +while he strove in vain to get beyond the opening +sentence of his oration.</p> + +<p>He awoke, however, in excellent spirits, and ceased +to worry about the speech at all, arguing to himself +that it would come off all right once he got going. +He ran up the flag with his own hands, and meeting +Cilia in the kitchen as he came in, he chucked her +under the chin with a cheerful: "Well, old lady, +feeling fit?" Whereat Cilia was considerably taken +aback, being all unused to such attentions.</p> + +<p>There was great excitement in the town as to how +the much-talked-of party would go off, and, long before +the appointed hour, the garden fence was lined outside +by the youth of the neighbourhood, awaiting +the arrival of the guests.</p> + +<p>"There's Holm Berg, boys, stovepipe and all—and +here's the Lieutenant with his pig-sticker—and +look at Old Nick in his white gloves, and walking like +he was on stilts—hurraa—a—a!"</p> + +<p>The house was brilliantly illuminated and looked +very festive indeed; so overwhelming was the display +that most of the natives stole away into odd corners +where they could see as much as possible without +being seen. Lt. Heidt was thoroughly at home, and +helped to look after the guests, though this, indeed, +was superfluous, Soren himself exhibiting so much +sangfroid and confidence of manner that he might +have been on board his own vessel and in sole command.<a class="pagenum" name="Page_181" id="Page_181" title="[Pg 181]"></a> +He shook hands with each as they arrived, and bade +them welcome with smiling self-possession. Cilia +hardly knew him in this new guise as master of the +house, and a shiver of excitement thrilled her as +she thought of the developments in store. She had, +indeed, sufficient reason for anxiety, inasmuch as she +had had a serious talk with Malvina just before the +guests arrived, endeavouring to extract from her a +promise to give a favourable answer to Lt. Heidt. +But there was no getting anything definite out of +Malvina; she demanded time to think it over.</p> + +<p>The first slight stiffness among the guests soon +disappeared, and, by the time dinner was served, +most of them felt quite sufficiently at home to do full +justice to an excellent repast.</p> + +<p>There were to be no speeches until dessert, and now +the fateful moment was near.</p> + +<p>Malvina was in a corner with Lt. Heidt, the latter +so tender and smiling that old Mrs. Berg nudged the +parson's wife and whispered, "Look, I'm sure he's +proposing now!" The lady addressed, however, was +somewhat deaf, and looked up with an inquiring +"Eh?" Mrs. Berg did not venture to repeat the +observation out loud, and substituted a remark about +"the jelly delicious, don't you think?"</p> + +<p>Malvina turned pale and red alternately with +emotion; there was no getting out of the corner, for +Heidt barred the way. Now and again she cast a +despairing glance at the Cupid, as if asking aid; but +no, the figure only stared back with a silly smile—ridiculous +creature!</p> + +<p>Abrahamsen, in the passage adjoining, was watching +the pair with ill-repressed impatience. The sight of +the young lieutenant bending close and whispering<a class="pagenum" name="Page_182" id="Page_182" title="[Pg 182]"></a> +confidentially to Malvina made him tingle, and he +clenched his fists. Abrahamsen was an ill man to +jest with, and, as Soren was wont to say, he had a +pair of fists as heavy as the flippers of a full-grown +seal.</p> + +<p>Coolest of all the conspirators was Old Nick, who +walked about, smiling and content, enjoying his own +observation of the entire menagerie, as he called +it. Towards Cilia he was deference itself, and won +her heart completely by addressing her as "Mrs. +Braathen."</p> + +<p>At last Soren tapped his glass; all eyes were at +once turned towards him. He started off simply and +easily; he had just one thing to say and that was, +he thanked them all for their presence there this +evening, and was very glad to see them under his +humble roof. Your health! Cilia was quite proud +of her husband for once, and not a little surprised; +it was not a bit like Soren. Where on earth had he +picked it up? She herself had previously asked +Lt. Heidt, as a friend of the family, to say a few words +of welcome, but Soren had managed it excellently +already. Well, so much the better; it would show +Lt. Heidt that even he was not indispensable.</p> + +<p>Old Nick then rose, and proposed "our host and +hostess" in a speech so fluent and cordial that even +the parson's wife, who had scarcely heard a word of +it, declared it was "perfectly charming."</p> + +<p>All drank with Cilia, who curtsyed and nodded and +smiled, and nodded again, until her head almost fell +off; never in her dreams had she imagined such an +exalted moment.</p> + +<p>The regulation speeches were now over, and nothing +more was expected beyond a few words from the<a class="pagenum" name="Page_183" id="Page_183" title="[Pg 183]"></a> +parson, when, to Cilia's astonishment and the surprise +of the guests, Soren again stepped forward and raised +his glass.</p> + +<p>Cilia's first thought was that her husband had +taken a drop too much, but his calm, easy manner +disposed of that idea in a moment. She wondered +what on earth was going to happen, and for the first +time in her life the foundations of her despotic power +seemed shaken.</p> + +<p>There was a tense silence among the guests; what +could he have to say? Old Nick stood beside him, +chatting easily with Malvina as if nothing were amiss. +Thor Smith was out in the passage with Abrahamsen. +Justice Heidt, who had been waiting all the evening +for the "declaration," drew a little nearer, in the +belief that it was coming.</p> + +<p>Soren drank off his own glass of sherry, and having +reinforced it with Old Nick's and the parson's, which +stood nearest on the table, he gave vent to a long +sigh, or grunt, and commenced as follows:</p> + +<p>"Ladies and Gentlemen: as mentioned, there's a +thing we call a union, which means, well—a sort of +union, you know" (loud applause from some of the +younger men, who thought Soren was referring to +the Union of Norway and Sweden), "and you can't +have any sort of union without—h'm—respect and—h'm—affection +on both sides." (Here the speaker +directed a lowering glance at Lt. Heidt, who was +moving towards the table.)</p> + +<p>"There was a whole lot more I was supposed to say +about this, but I've forgotten the rest. And, anyhow, +it's a bit of a large order to expect an old skipper like +me to rattle out all that stuff about garlands of roses +and bonds of something—or—other." Old Nick gave<a class="pagenum" name="Page_184" id="Page_184" title="[Pg 184]"></a> +a despairing glance at Thor Smith, who shook his +head sadly. "Well, anyhow, it's as well to take the +bull by the horns, so here you are. Abrahamsen, +you've had charge of the old <i lang="no">Birkebeineren</i> two voyages +this year, and I hereby make no bones about giving +you my girl Malvina, to sail her without deviation or +any delay, as the apple of my heart, across the ocean +of life, with all due care and seamanship, as set forth +in the bills of lading. And seeing as that same ocean's +given to foul weather and suchlike perils, dangers and +accidents of the sea or other waters, you'll need to +keep a sharp look-out and navigate according. And, +well, the Lord be with you. Amen."</p> + +<p>Cilia, who was nervous and unsettled enough beforehand, +now lost her head completely, and as the guests +crowded round to offer their congratulations, she sank +into a chair holding a handkerchief to her eyes. And +when Malvina came up to embrace her, she broke +down completely.</p> + +<p>Lt. Heidt turned sharply about in military fashion, +and strode magnificently out into the hall. On the +way he encountered Old Nick, who was rude enough +to smile at him, and say, "Rather neat that, don't you +think?"</p> + +<p>Justice Heidt retired quietly, inwardly congratulating +himself with the thought that it was just as well +he had escaped closer connection with so plebeian a +family!</p> + +<p>When the guests had left, Soren sat down beside his +wife and took her hand, endeavouring to comfort her +as well as he could. Cilia still wept, however; as if +all the tears she might have shed in her life, but never +had, were bursting forth at once. So copious indeed +was the flow, that Soren privately reckoned out it<a class="pagenum" name="Page_185" id="Page_185" title="[Pg 185]"></a> +would have sufficed to water half the carrot patch at +least.</p> + +<p>It was with strange thoughts that Cilia retired to +rest. She was beginning to realise that she had been +dethroned; her power within-doors and abroad was +gone for ever; she had made a fool of herself with a +vengeance. It was a bitter thing to feel. She went +over in her mind the events of the summer: Soren's +journey to Sandefjord, her own expedition to +Christiania with Lt. Heidt, the party, and the new +furniture—how could she ever have been so foolish, +so insane!</p> + +<p>Towards morning she grew calmer; she had decided +what to do, and was herself again.</p> + +<p>She rose before the others were stirring, and lit a +big fire in the kitchen. Her sharp features showed +firm and decided as she stood before the stove, stiffly +upright, one hand fiercely clenching a crumpled roll of +something white. This she presently threw into the +flames with a deep sigh—but a sigh of relief, as if in +casting off a burden. It was her dainty indoor cap, +with the auriculas, that was sacrificed; the thing +hissed and spluttered, vanishing at last in sooty fragments +up the chimney.</p> + +<p>When Soren and Malvina came down, they found +her on all fours in the parlour, hard at work packing +up carpets and curtains, knick-knacks and chandeliers. +They stood watching her for a while, but Cilia sharply +ordered them to help—and willingly they did! Not +a word was exchanged between the three; they +simply went on packing and packing, closing up the +cases and packing more, till they were ready to be +carried out into the yard.</p> + +<p>In the course of the morning Abrahamsen turned<a class="pagenum" name="Page_186" id="Page_186" title="[Pg 186]"></a> +up, and lent a hand with the packing-cases. It was +almost as if it were a question of getting some evil +influence out of the house as quickly as possible. All +four worked together with perfect understanding, and +not a word was said either of the engagement or of the +party.</p> + +<p>"What are we to do with that fellow there?" said +Abrahamsen, pointing to the Cupid.</p> + +<p>Soren scratched his chin thoughtfully for a while, +and, as a result of his cogitations, suggested "making +a fountain." He had seen dozens of suchlike figures +in the course of his travels. You set them up in +gardens, with a hole bored through and a tube let in. +Why not stick it up on the pump outside; it would +look fine then! But Malvina insisted on getting rid +of the thing altogether; it had caused mischief enough +as it was. Thus Abrahamsen had an inspiration. +"Let's make Lawyer Nickelsen a present of it; he's +got a couple of things much the same to look at. I +dare say he'd be glad to have one more." The proposal +was received with acclamation, Cilia herself +offering no objection, but declaring they might do +what they pleased with the thing.</p> + +<p>Abrahamsen accordingly took the unfortunate Cupid, +stuffed it into a sack, and marched off with it. Nickelsen +was not a little surprised to receive a visit from the +mischievous god, but on learning what was taking +place in its former home, he consented to shelter the +poor outcast. He also shook hands with Abrahamsen, +and said:</p> + +<p>"My dear Abrahamsen, I congratulate you—and I +must say Cilia is wiser than I thought. It's not many +people would have the sense and character to repair +an error so resolutely as she has done."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_187" id="Page_187" title="[Pg 187]"></a> +There was general astonishment in Strandvik when +Cilia's elegant new furniture was seen being loaded on +board a coasting-vessel down at the quay; still further +wonder when it transpired that the entire consignment +was destined for Christiania, to be sold by auction +there.</p> + +<p>Cilia went aboard calmly and quietly, paying no +heed to gossip or impertinent questions. And indeed +there were few who ventured to question her at all, +for her manner was severe enough to keep even the +most inquisitive at arm's length. As soon as the +vessel had left, she had all the old furniture put back +in its place. Malvina brought out her plaster angel, +wiped it carefully, and set it up on the same old bracket +again.</p> + +<p>It was surprising how comfortable everything +seemed at home now. Soren was so delighted he went +about rubbing his hands, and even Cilia herself seemed +gentler and more tractable than before. So much +so, indeed, that Soren decided to give up his quarters +in the wash-house, and drank his bottled beer on a +settle in the kitchen, as if it were the most natural +thing in the world; and Cilia made no protest, but +set out glass and tray for him herself! Soren felt he +was the happiest man in the world, and it was not +many weeks before all was back in the old routine, +Cilia devoting herself in earnest to the business of +shipowning and chartering. Abrahamsen was transferred +to the <i>Apollo</i>, and Soren went on board his old +friend <i lang="no">Birkebeineren</i>, a skipper once more.</p> + +<p>One thing Cilia found more astonishing than all +else, and that was that both Lawyer Nickelsen and +old Prois himself took to calling at the house now and +then; nay, more—she and Malvina were actually<a class="pagenum" name="Page_188" id="Page_188" title="[Pg 188]"></a> +asked to tea at the Prois's. Cilia was finding out +that there were more things in heaven and earth than +were dreamt of in her philosophy.</p> + +<p>Passing by Cilia's well-kept garden in the spring, +one might see a number of wine-glasses, minus the +stems, but engraved with the monogram "S. & C. B.," +placed protectingly over tender seedling or cuttings +planted out in the round or oblong borders—"all +that's left of the days when mother went wrong in the +upper works," said Soren Braaten.</p> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_189" id="Page_189" title="[Pg 189]"></a></p> +<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV<br /> +A ROYAL VISIT</h2> + + +<p>"Heard the news, Nickelsen?" cried Thor +Smith, looking in at Nickelsen's door.</p> + +<p>"No, what?"</p> + +<p>"The King's coming."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk nonsense—what d'you mean?"</p> + +<p>"It's true, honour bright. The Council's all head +over heels already, fixing up a committee for the +arrangement."</p> + +<p>"No, really? Why, that'll be first-rate. Just +wanted something to brighten things up a bit; it's +been very dull lately." Old Nick rubbed his hands +gleefully. "Come along, let's walk down that way a +bit and see if we can get hold of somebody in the +know."</p> + +<p>"Hallo, here's Holm Berg! I say, are you on this +committee?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank goodness, I managed to get out of it. +Not but that there were plenty anxious to get in!"</p> + +<p>"Who's on it, then, do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Well, there's Heidt, of course, as Justice, but he +was quite put out about it himself, and wished His +Majesty I won't say where. You see, it means getting +new uniform, for the gold braid's all worn off his +old one."</p> + +<p>"Well, and who else?"</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_190" id="Page_190" title="[Pg 190]"></a> +"Oh, let's see; the parson, Governor Hansen, +Watchmaker Rordam and Dr. Knap—oh yes, and +Prois, of course, as Warden."</p> + +<p>"What, old Prois?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and he was quite cut up about it too. Said +he was too old for such tomfoolery."</p> + +<p>It was a busy time all round for the loyal citizens +of Strandvik; and the worst of it was, they had only +three days to make all arrangements. The royal +party would arrive on Thursday at four o'clock and +dine in the town. And to-day was Monday.</p> + +<p>The committee held meetings morning and afternoon. +A band was asked for by telegram from the +naval station at Horten, and a special cook from +Drammen; both, fortunately, promised to come.</p> + +<p>A triumphal arch was set up at the Custom House, +and Nachmann, the German wine merchant, sent up +four cart-loads of bottles to the Town Hall, where +the banquet was to be held. Nachmann was in high +feather, and declared loyally that a Royal House +was an excellent institution and an encouragement +to trade and commerce.</p> + +<p>But what was the King to drive in? Consul +Jansen had a very respectable pair-horse carriage of +his own, lined with grey silk, and suitable for most +"special occasions," but unfortunately one of the +horses was lame, and the other a confirmed runaway. +What was to be done?</p> + +<p>Lt. Heidt had just got a new mount, but so miserably +emaciated a beast that one could almost see daylight +through its ribs. There was no possibility of +using such a bag of bones for such a purpose.</p> + +<p>Finally, the choice fell upon Baker Ottosen's black +mare, a famous beauty. But one mare's not a pair;<a class="pagenum" name="Page_191" id="Page_191" title="[Pg 191]"></a> +there was nothing for it but to take Governor Hansen's +old "Swift," so called from the fact of its never on +any occasion exceeding the easiest amble. It was +hoped that the close proximity of the mare would +liven it up a little.</p> + +<p>For three whole days Aslaksen of the livery stables +practised the pair up and down through the streets, +to the great edification of the urchins, who ran after +the carriage shouting and cheering.</p> + +<p>Tar barrels and rockets were set ready in place +out in the fjord, and all the candles in the stores +were bought up for the purpose of illumination.</p> + +<p>From early morning the committee <a class="corr" name="TC_6" id="TC_6" title="were">was</a> abroad, +in full evening-dress, and desperately busy.</p> + +<p>Old Justice Heidt stood in his shirt-sleeves and +new gold-braided breeches making his most deferential +bow to an old American clock: "May it please +Your Majesty, in the person of the town's ..." he +had to look up the paper and read through his speech +once again.</p> + +<p>Excitement increased as the day wore on. Stout +peasant girls with red roses in their hats, and lanky +youths with blue and green ties, and a bottle of spirits +in their hinder pockets, began pouring into the town.</p> + +<p>The committee was working feverishly. Everything +was now practically ready, flags and bunting +everywhere, and as many green wreaths as seven old +women had been able to prepare in three days. +All that remained was the great centre-piece, with +the arms of the town, to be hung above the royal +seat in the banqueting hall.</p> + +<p>Watchmaker Rordam, who, in addition to having +charge of all the time-pieces in the town, further +acted as instrument maker, turner and decorator, had<a class="pagenum" name="Page_192" id="Page_192" title="[Pg 192]"></a> +undertaken to paint the aforesaid piece. But at one +o'clock he suddenly retired in dudgeon, and the arms +of the town were nowhere. The cause of this disaster +was Old Nick, who had come up during the morning +to the hall to see how the decorations were getting on. +Rordam was there just putting the finishing touches +to his masterpiece.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Rordam, painting a picture, are you? Tell +me, what it's supposed to be, exactly?"</p> + +<p>"Eh?" said Rordam, with a frown. "Can't you +see? Why, the town arms, of course—a bear holding +a pine tree on a blue ground, and a goddess with the +scales of justice in red in the other corner."</p> + +<p>"No, really?" said Old Nick. "Devil take me, if +I didn't think it was Adam and Eve stealing apples +in the Garden of Eden."</p> + +<p>Rordam was furious, and swore he would not put +up with such impertinence, he had not come there +to be insulted. He had undertaken the work as a +loyal citizen's contribution to the general good, +without fee or remuneration of any sort, and if Lawyer +Nickelsen thought he could paint a better coat-of-arms, +why, let him take over the business, and welcome. +And, tearing down his painting, the indignant watchmaker +took himself off.</p> + +<p>Old Nick likewise found it advisable to disappear, +after a vain attempt to bring the injured painter to +reason, assuring him that it was only a joke, no harm +intended, etc. etc.</p> + +<p>The committee was summoned in haste, and stood +staring blankly at the empty space where the bear +and the goddess of justice should have appeared.</p> + +<p>Their anger was very naturally turned upon Old +Nick.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_193" id="Page_193" title="[Pg 193]"></a> +"Really, I think he might have kept his remarks +to himself," said Dr. Knap. "Old muddler that +he is."</p> + +<p>"He never can keep a still tongue in his head," +agreed Justice Heidt.</p> + +<p>It was now past one o'clock: the King was to +arrive at four, and there was no painting a new design +in three hours. Hang up a big Norwegian flag? +That, of course, could be done; but it would seem a +very poor sort of decoration without the arms of the +town. Then Governor Hansen had a bright idea: +"Let's get up an impromptu lunch at once, and ask +Rordam along, as if nothing was the matter."</p> + +<p>"Do you think he'll come?" asked Justice Heidt.</p> + +<p>"Sure enough—if we just let him know it's a +special lunch for a small select party. Send the +message in your own name, Justice, and I'll wager +a bottle of Montebello he'll come."</p> + +<p>Half an hour after, Rordam arrived, and was received +by Justice Heidt, who clapped him on the shoulder +and thanked him heartily for his splendid decoration +of the hall.</p> + +<p>"And I must say we are fortunate in having in so +small a town an artist of taste like yourself. I am sure +His Majesty will wish to thank you personally. By +the way, that coat of arms, it will be ready in time, I +hope? Dr. Knap was just saying it was a magnificent +piece of work."</p> + +<p>"Why—er—that is—I wasn't altogether pleased +with it myself, so I took it down."</p> + +<p>"Oh, nonsense, my dear fellow! I am sure it's excellent. +Hang it up again and don't worry about +that."</p> + +<p>The shield was set in place again accordingly, and<a class="pagenum" name="Page_194" id="Page_194" title="[Pg 194]"></a> +the committee unanimously expressed their admiration. +The figure of the bear in particular was highly +praised. "As lifelike as anything you'd see in a menagerie," +said Warden Prois cautiously. "And the +young lady too, I'm sure," said Dr. Knap, with a sly +nudge to Heidt. Rordam was pacified, completely +won over, and so gratified at the amiable condescension +of the notables at lunch that he felt he could afford to +despise a mere lawyer like that fellow Nickelsen.</p> + +<p>At half-past three precisely the committee members +of Council and other leading personages went down +to the quay where the Royal party was to land. The +appearance of Warden Prois, with his gold-laced cap, +ditto tunic, belt and dirk (all newly ordered for the +occasion) was the signal for cheering from the assembled +urchins. The demonstration, however, so annoyed +the old man that he angrily ordered them to "keep +quiet, you little devils," at which undignified utterance +on the part of a person in authority, Justice Heidt +frowned severely.</p> + +<p>The four town constables were likewise dressed for +the occasion with new trousers and white cotton +gloves, and made a brave show.</p> + +<p>"Boom—boom—boom!" came the salute from the +fire-station, and Ottosen's black mare reared so +violently that Aslaksen's silver-braided silk hat fell off. +Worse was to come, however. As the band from +Horten struck up, "Swift" became troublesome. At +last the Warden himself had to spring to the heads of +the frantic pair and hold them, or the whole equipage +would have gone over the side into the water. His +Majesty, no doubt from previous experience of provincial +turn-outs, preferred to walk, and the party +moved off, accompanied by a burst of cheering, towards<a class="pagenum" name="Page_195" id="Page_195" title="[Pg 195]"></a> +the Town Hall; Aslaksen, with his carriage and ill +assorted pair, following shamefacedly in the rear.</p> + +<p>At the upper end of the Royal table sat the Justice +and other notables; the King's suite were distributed +between the members of the committee. For the +convenience of the latter, Heidt had had cards set +round at each place, with the names of the guest +seated next. Warden Prois, who had been introduced +to his particular charge, but had not managed to catch +the name, slipped away stealthily outside, put on his +spectacles and endeavoured to read his card. "His +Excellency ... M.—M.—Megesen—no, Pegestik—devil +take me if I can make head or tail of it." At +last he decided for "Negesuk" as the Excellency's +name—Swedish names were always queer.</p> + +<p>It was a very festive affair, and full justice was done +to the fourteen courses and Nachmann's good wine. +The official speeches were all delivered with laudable +precision, excepting Governor Hansen's. That worthy +came to a standstill, and had to fumble in his waistcoat +pocket for the written copy, consisting of two +lines scrawled on a bit of paper, the crumpled appearance +of which suggested that it had been liberally +consulted already.</p> + +<p>The talk flowed easily and without embarrassing +restraint. Old Klementsen quietly pocketed a copy +of the menu, to take home to his wife; it was only +fair that she should have her share of the feast.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Chamberlain Negesuk, may I have the honour?" +Prois raised his glass courteously towards his neighbour, +who drank with him and bowed in return, albeit +with some stiffness of manner. This, however, the +Warden attributed to their proximity to the Royal +person.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_196" id="Page_196" title="[Pg 196]"></a> +"Ah—my name is Von Vegesak," said the courtier, +with a bow.</p> + +<p>"The deuce it is," said Prois; "it doesn't look like it +on the card." And he put on his glasses and turned +the card about.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but that's not my birth certificate, you know," +answered Von Vegesak, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Well, anyhow, here's to you, Mr.—Mr.—Vegesak."</p> + +<p>At one end of the Royal table sat Governor Hansen +and Captain Palander, deep in conversation about—horses! +Horses were the one theme in which Hansen +was really interested, devoting especial attention to +trotters, and once he got on to his favourite subject +there was no stopping him.</p> + +<p>"Curious thing," he observed, "I had a trotting +horse a few years ago called Palander—ha, ha, ha! +Yes, that was really its name. But I could never +get any pace out of it on ordinary going; ice underfoot +was the only thing to make it go."</p> + +<p>"Very good claret this," murmured the King to +Justice Heidt.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Your Majesty; we have it from our worthy +dealer here, Mr. Nachmann, a citizen of the town."</p> + +<p>"Quite right, Your Majesty; a genuine brand and +<em>premier one</em>." Nachmann rose to his feet and turned +his moonlike countenance towards the King.</p> + +<p>"Thanks for good wine, then, Nachmann," said His +Majesty, raising his glass.</p> + +<p>"Proudest moment in my life, Your Majesty. I'll +take the liberty of laying down a few bottles in memory +of the occasion—until Your Majesty honours us again. +Most humble servant, Your Majesty.<span class="corr" title='added: "'>"</span></p> + +<p>And Nachmann bowed deeply, but with evident<a class="pagenum" name="Page_197" id="Page_197" title="[Pg 197]"></a> +pride. How they would envy him now, P. A. Larsen, +Lundgren, Carl Fleischer, and all the rest of them, +who fancied nobody sold good wine but themselves! +He would get the editor of the <i>Strandvik Gazette</i> to +quote the Royal compliment to the firm of Nachmann +& Co.—it was a credit to the town to have such a +business in its midst.</p> + +<p>When Nachmann rose, there was a sudden silence; +one could have heard a pin drop. But since His +Majesty took the occurrence in such good part, the +others could do so too. Nevertheless, Justice Heidt +considered Nachmann's behaviour unjustifiable and a +breach of etiquette. He cast a glance of stern reproof +at the wine merchant, but the latter was so elated that +he misunderstood its meaning, and, raising his glass, +nodded pleasantly in return: "Your health, Justice!"</p> + +<p>Old Klementsen, the parish clerk, who had hardly +eaten at all for two days in order to get full value out +of the banquet for his twelve shillings, had been +shovelling away as hard as he could stuff, and drinking +in proportion. He was now in high feather as a result, +and his one idea now was to get up and make a +speech in honour of Carl Johan, whom he had seen in +1840.</p> + +<p>His neighbours with difficulty restrained him, +tearing the tails of his coat in their efforts to keep him +in his seat. Finally, they got him down into the +police cells on the ground floor, when he delivered his +loyal oration to the warder.</p> + +<p>Up in the gallery sat the ladies of the town, perspiring +in their Sunday best; it was almost hot enough up +there to boil a lobster. All were thirsty too, and +matters were not improved by the sight of their +respective husbands and fathers in the hall below<a class="pagenum" name="Page_198" id="Page_198" title="[Pg 198]"></a> +eating and drinking <i lang="la">ad libitum</i> of the best, while they +themselves had neither bite nor sup.</p> + +<p>Miss Svane, headmistress of the girls' school, could +not restrain her emotions, and declared warmly that +"it was easy enough to be a loyal subject of His +Majesty if that was how they did it!"</p> + +<p>Cilia Braaten had never seen a King at meals before; +she was gratified with the new experience, and had no +thought for anything else until Miss Svane delivered +her envious dictum. Then, however, she resolutely +sent off a boy for six bottles of lemonade, in which +the ladies drank to His Majesty's health—and, literally +speaking, drank it warmly.</p> + +<p>At last the time came for the Royal party to leave, +and the departure took place amid an endless thunder +of cheering. Rockets whizzed, the gun at the fire-station +boomed in salute. But in the banqueting-hall +the fun grew fast and furious.</p> + +<p>Bowls of punch were brought in, and Schoolmaster +Iversen made thirteen speeches, to which nobody +listened at all. Skipper Abrahamsen jumped up on +the table and made another for the Norwegian play, +in the course of which he managed to empty his glass +of punch over Warden Prois's new uniform, at which +that worthy, very naturally incensed, cursed the +patriot emphatically for behaving like a monkey on +a tightrope.</p> + +<p>Even aged Klementsen had come to life again, +and found his way upstairs from the cells, somewhat +pale but resolute still. His appearance was greeted +with a burst of cheering, and a party of enthusiasts +chaired him round the hall, singing patriotic songs the +while. The singing and shouting continued well on +towards morning, and a street sweeper declared he<a class="pagenum" name="Page_199" id="Page_199" title="[Pg 199]"></a> +had heard them howling out "God save our gracious +King" at half-past six—but his watch, no doubt, must +have been fast!</p> + +<p>Next day the <i>Strandvik Gazette</i> contained a poem +entitled "A Royal Visit," from which the following +verses concerning the banquet may be quoted:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iminus">"'Twas plain to see that Strandvik town<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lacked neither meat <a class="corr" name="TC_7" id="TC_7" title="not">nor</a> mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The banquet might have brought renown<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To any place on earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dishes, numbering fourteen,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Were rich enough to make,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If such his daily fare had been,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The Royal tummy ache.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And healths were drunk and speeches very wittily were said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those who had no speech to make, they drank the wine instead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But yet in spite of speeches gay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wit and wine, I dare to say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His Majesty was glad to get away!"<br /></span> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_200" id="Page_200" title="[Pg 200]"></a></div></div> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV<br /> +PETER OILAND</h2> + + +<p>Peter Oiland, the new master at the girls' +school in Strandvik, was a tall, thin man of +about thirty. He had taken a theological +degree, and his solemn, clean face gave him a somewhat +clerical air; his manner, too, appeared calm and +reserved.</p> + +<p>"Not much fun to be got out of him, by his looks," +said Old Nick, the first time he encountered Peter +Oiland's lanky figure and serious countenance on his +way up through the town.</p> + +<p>It was not from any predilection of his own, however, +that Peter Oiland had come to study theology, +but a result of circumstances which left him no choice +in the matter. His studies had been carried through +at the expense of an old uncle, who was parish clerk +at Sandefjord, and whose dearest wish it was to see +the boy in Holy Orders. Only fancy; to be handing +the cassock to a nephew of his own.</p> + +<p>Peter, then, had taken his degree accordingly, and +endeavoured conscientiously to suit himself as far as +possible to the clerical rôle for which he was cast in +life; how he succeeded we shall presently see.</p> + +<p>His quiet and sober dignity of manner gained him +the entry to the Sukkestads' house, where he was soon +a frequent guest; not that he found himself particularly<a class="pagenum" name="Page_201" id="Page_201" title="[Pg 201]"></a> +attracted by Sukkestad and his wife, or their severely +earnest circle of friends. The attraction, in fact, was +Andrea, the daughter of the house and only child, for +whom he entertained the tenderest feeling. Andrea +was a buxom, pink-and-white beauty of eighteen +summers. Her light blue eyes and little stumpy nose +were quite charming in their way, while the plait of +long, fair hair over the shoulders gave her an air of +childish innocence.</p> + +<p>In a word, Peter Oiland was desperately in love, +while Andrea, who had never before been the object +of such attentions, began to lie awake at nights wondering +whether he "really meant it." The solution, +however, came quite naturally.</p> + +<p>Andrea played the piano, and sang touching little +songs of the sentimental type, such as "When my +eyes are closing," "The Last Rose of Summer," or +"The Deserted Cottage"—which transported Peter +Oiland to the eighth heaven at least. One evening, +when she had finished one of her usual turns, he took +her hand and thanked her warmly, pressing it also +quite perceptibly—and Andrea, well, she somehow +managed to press his quite perceptibly in return—by +accident, of course. And then these hand-clasps were +repeated, nay, became a regular thing, to such an extent +that the pair would press each other's hands when +seated on the sofa with Mamma Sukkestad between +them. That good lady, however, did not notice, or +affected not to notice, these evidences of tender passion +taking place behind her back.</p> + +<p>Thanks to his intimacy with Sukkestad, and also +to his own reputation as a sober and earnest man, Peter +Oiland was chosen, after only a couple of months' residence +in the place, as one of the two representatives<a class="pagenum" name="Page_202" id="Page_202" title="[Pg 202]"></a> +of the town to attend the mission meeting at Stavanger. +Sukkestad himself was the other.</p> + +<p>On the evening before their departure, he was invited +to a party at the Sukkestads', together with the +members of the Women's Union.</p> + +<p>Peter Oiland had already succeeded in making +himself a special favourite with Mrs. Sukkestad, and +was on very confidential terms with her; relations, +indeed, became quite intimate, when Andrea confided +the secret of their mutual feelings to her mother.</p> + +<p>After supper, preserved fruit and pastry were +handed round, which Peter Oiland inwardly considered +a somewhat insipid form of entertainment. +He had often felt the lack of a glass of grog on his +visits to the house, and this evening he deftly turned +the conversation with Mrs. Sukkestad to the subject +of "colds," from which he declared himself to be +suffering considerably just lately. Mrs. Sukkestad +recommended hot turpentine bandages on the chest +and barley water internally. Oiland, however, hinted +that the only thing he had ever known to do him any +good was egg punch. Mrs. Sukkestad, who was one +of those stout little homely persons always anxious +to help, and with a fine store of household recipes ever +available, set to work at once to find some means of +getting him his favourite medicine, while Peter coughed +distressingly, and screwed up his eyes behind his +glasses.</p> + +<p>"I tell you what," whispered Mrs. Sukkestad at +last. "Sukkestad is an abstainer, you know, so we've +never anything in the way of spirits in the house as +a rule. But I've half a bottle of brandy out in the +pantry that I got last spring when I was troubled with +the toothache; I was going to use it for cleaning the<a class="pagenum" name="Page_203" id="Page_203" title="[Pg 203]"></a> +windows, really, but if you think it would do your cold +any good, I'd be only too pleased."</p> + +<p>"Thanks ever so much, it's awfully good of you," +said Peter Oiland hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, be sure you don't let anyone know +what it is. I'll put it in one of the decanters, and say +it's gooseberry wine."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, of course; I understand."</p> + +<p>And, shortly after, Peter Oiland was comfortably +seated in a corner with a lovely big glass of grog, +enjoying himself thoroughly, and, to complete his +satisfaction, Andrea sang:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iminus">"Thou art my one and only thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My one and only love...."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Peter drank deep of the joy of life, and eke of grog, +and Andrea seemed more charming than ever.</p> + +<p>Later in the evening he held forth to the ladies—among +whom, as above mentioned, were all the +members of the Women's Union—about the blacks of +the South Sea Islands, and gave so lurid a description +of the state of things there prevailing as to make his +audience fairly shudder.</p> + +<p>"And would you believe it, on one of the islands +in the Pacific, a place called Kolamukka, belonging +to Queen Rabagadale, they eat roast baby just as we +do sucking pig, the only difference being that they +don't serve them up with lemons in their mouths."</p> + +<p>Sukkestad thought this was going rather too far, +and broke in, "Oh, come now, Oiland; you're exaggerating, +I'm sure. Thank goodness, all the poor +heathens are not cannibals."</p> + +<p>"Have to quote the worst examples, to make it +properly interesting," said Oiland, which dictum was<a class="pagenum" name="Page_204" id="Page_204" title="[Pg 204]"></a> +supported by Mrs. Writher, who declared that one +could not paint these things too darkly; it was hard +enough as it was to make people realise the dreadful +state of those benighted creatures.</p> + +<p>When the guests had left, Mrs. Sukkestad felt some +qualms of conscience at the thought of having "served +intoxicating liquors" in her house. She lay awake +for hours, debating with herself whether she ought to +confess at once to her husband. The excuse about +having a cold was—well, rather poor after all. Suppose +Oiland had a weakness, a leaning towards drink, and +she had led him astray! His cough, too, had vanished +so quickly, it was suspicious. However, she decided +to say nothing for the present.</p> + +<p>It was a fine, bright, sunny day when Sukkestad +and Peter Oiland, as delegates from Strandvik to the +meeting at Stavanger, stepped on board the coasting +steamer, which was already half full of delegates with +white neckerchiefs and broad-brimmed felt hats.</p> + +<p>The smoke-room was thick with the fumes of cheap +tobacco and a hum of quiet talk from decent folk in +black Sunday coats and well-polished leg boots. A +swarthy little commercial traveller, with a bright red +tie and waxed moustache, sat squeezed up in a corner +puffing at a "special" cigar with a coloured waistband.</p> + +<p>Peter Oiland gave a formal greeting to the company +assembled as he entered; those nearest politely made +way for him.</p> + +<p>"It's a hard life, teaching," observed a stout little +man with a florid, clean-shaven face and glistening +black hair brushed forward over his ears. "Tells on +the nerves."</p> + +<p>"You find it so?" put in Peter Oiland. "Well,<a class="pagenum" name="Page_205" id="Page_205" title="[Pg 205]"></a> +now, it all depends on how you take it—as the young +man said when he took a kiss in the dark."</p> + +<p>There was a somewhat awkward silence; the +company seemed rather in doubt as to the speaker's +sympathy with their ideas.</p> + +<p>Presently the sea began to make itself felt, and +Peter Oiland found occasion to relate the anecdote of +the old lady who had been in to Christiania for a new +set of false teeth, and, being sea-sick on the way back, +dropped them overboard; next day the local papers +had an account of a big cod just caught, with false +teeth in its mouth!</p> + +<p>A smile—a very faint one—greeted the story, and +the passengers relapsed into their customary seriousness, +not without occasional glances between one and +another: what sort of a fellow was this they had got +on board?</p> + +<p>"H'm!" thought Peter Oiland. "Have another +try; wake them up a bit. Must be a queer sort of +party if I can't."</p> + +<p>Just then Sukkestad appeared in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"This way, this way, if you please," shouted Peter +gaily. "Gentlemen, my friend and colleague, Bukkestad—beg +pardon, Sukkestad; slip of the tongue, +you understand. Come along in, old man! Jolly +evening we had at your place last night—first-rate fun."</p> + +<p>Sukkestad did not know whether to laugh or cry, +or take himself off and have done with it. The fellow +must be mad!</p> + +<p>The commercial, who had been hiding his face +behind an old newspaper, burst out laughing, and +hurried out on deck.</p> + +<p>Peter Oiland settled his glasses on his nose, and +went on:</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_206" id="Page_206" title="[Pg 206]"></a> +"Smart lot of ladies you'd got hold of, too, Sukkestad; +quite the up-to-date sort—eh, what? Ah, +you're the man for the girls, no doubt about that."</p> + +<p>"Really, Mr. Oiland, I don't know what you mean. +Party—girls—I never heard of such a thing."</p> + +<p>Peter then fell to telling stories, in the course of +which one after another of the delegates disappeared. +When he came to the story of the clerk who handed +the parson his cassock with the words: "Tch! steady, +old hoss, till I get your harness on," the last one left +the room; no one was left now but the little commercial, +who had found his way back again, and was +thoroughly enjoying it all. The sea was calm now, +and the moon was up, so the pair seated themselves +on deck. And in the course of the evening the +delegates below, endeavouring to get to sleep in their +respective berths, were entertained by a series of +drinking-songs much favoured by the wilder youth +of the universities, Peter Oiland singing one part +and the commercial traveller the other.</p> + +<p>The pair were so pleased with each other's company +that the commercial, whose name was Klingenstein—"Goloshes +and rubber goods," decided not to land at +Arendal as he had intended, but to go on to Stavanger +instead. Peter Oiland recommended this course, as +offering, perhaps—who could say—an opportunity for +getting into touch with the South Sea Islands, and +selling goloshes to the heathen.</p> + +<p>"As a matter of fact," Peter added, "I know a +man in Stavanger who lived some years on one of the +South Sea Islands, personal friend of Queen Nabagadale; +useful man to know." There was then every +reason to believe that Klingenstein might open up a +new market in elastic stockings and such like.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_207" id="Page_207" title="[Pg 207]"></a> +The moon went down about midnight, and Peter +Oiland thought he might as well do likewise. Thoroughly +pleased with himself and all the world, +he went below and found his way to his cabin. The +upper berth was occupied by a man in a big woollen +nightcap. "Evening!" said Peter in the friendliest +tone, as he sat down to take off his boot.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said the gentleman in the nightcap, "permit +me to observe that you might have a little consideration +for people who wish to rest."</p> + +<p>"Delighted, I'm sure," said Peter. "But what's +the matter? Can't you get to sleep? Awful nuisance, +insomnia, I know."</p> + +<p>"Well, when people are so tactless as to sit up on +deck just over one's head, stamping and shouting out +ribald songs...."</p> + +<p>But before his indignant fellow-passenger could +finish his sentence, Peter Oiland was in his berth +and snoring—snoring so emphatically, indeed, that +he of the nightcap, after having listened to this new +melody for three solid hours, got up in despair and +went off to lie down on a sofa in the saloon.</p> + +<p>Peter Oiland slept like a mummy till ten o'clock +next morning, not even waking when the steamer +touched at her two ports of call.</p> + +<p>Coming on deck, he could not fail to perceive that +the other delegates were somewhat cold and reserved +in their manner towards him, while as for Sukkestad, +he had retired to an obscure corner of the second-class +quarters.</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow, he's not used to travelling," thought +Peter Oiland. "I must go and cheer him up a bit." +And he went across to Sukkestad and asked if he +didn't feel like something to eat.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_208" id="Page_208" title="[Pg 208]"></a> +Sukkestad was not inclined to be friendly at first, +but Oiland took no heed; on the contrary, he took +his reluctant colleague by the arm and dragged him +off, willy nilly, to the dining-saloon. There was an +excellent spread, hot and cold meats, and Peter +Oiland's heart warmed at the sight.</p> + +<p>Klingenstein was already seated and hard at work +on the viands, with serviette tucked under his chin; +he rose, however, and bowed in fine style as Oiland +made the introduction: "Mr. Krickke—beg pardon, +Sukkestad—Mr. Vingentein—er, I should say, +Klingenstein." The two new acquaintances looked at +one another rather blankly for a moment, then both +stared at Oiland, who, however, appeared entirely +unconcerned, and fell to with excellent appetite upon +a generous helping of steak and onions.</p> + +<p>Oiland ordered a bottle of beer and a schnapps, +whereat Sukkestad shook his head mournfully, and +inquired whether he really thought that was good +for his health. Oiland, however, declared it was +good for sea-sickness, and he never felt easy on +board ship without it.</p> + +<p>Sukkestad grew thoughtful. What would happen +when they got to Stavanger? He wished he could +get out of it somehow, and go back home again.</p> + +<p>At last the voyage was over, the two delegates +went ashore and put up at the Hotel Norge.</p> + +<p>The first thing Sukkestad noticed, on coming down +into the hall, was the name "Plukkestad" written +on the board against the number of his room. This +was too much; he rubbed out the offending letters +with his own hand, and wrote instead, with emphatic +distinction, "C. A. Sukkestad." He strongly suspected +Oiland of being the culprit; he had gone<a class="pagenum" name="Page_209" id="Page_209" title="[Pg 209]"></a> +downstairs a few minutes before, but having no proof +he preferred to say nothing about it.</p> + +<p>Sukkestad was now thoroughly ill at ease; his one +constant thought was to find himself safely home again +without any scandal. He saw little of Oiland the +first day; the schoolmaster had hired a carriage and +set off round the town to see the sights. In the +evening, Oiland asked how the meeting had gone off +that day, and if anyone had noticed his absence. +Sukkestad answered emphatically, "No," inwardly +hoping that Peter would not appear at the meetings +still to come.</p> + +<p>"Well, I think I've seen about all there is to see +in this old place—Harbour, Cathedral, Town Hall, +Mirror House, and statues of famous men—done it +pretty thoroughly, I should say."</p> + +<p>At the meeting on the following day Peter turned +up, and astonished the assembly by delivering a long +harangue on "The Civilising Influence of Missionary +Work." Sukkestad nearly fainted.</p> + +<p>Peter's speech produced a great effect, the listeners +growing more and more interested as he went on. +"Who is he—what's his name? You've got a regular +speaker there, Sukkestad." Sukkestad was utterly at +a loss, but vowed never again to expose himself to +such surprises, either of one sort or the other.</p> + +<p>At last the conference was ended, and the two +delegates from Strandvik set out for home.</p> + +<p>It was with great relief that Sukkestad found +himself on board the steamer; Peter might do what +he pleased now, for all he cared. As it turned out, +however, Peter was amiability itself towards his +travelling companion, though the latter did not seem +to appreciate his attention, but endeavoured to keep<a class="pagenum" name="Page_210" id="Page_210" title="[Pg 210]"></a> +to himself—a matter of some difficulty on board a small +steamboat. An hour before they got in to Strandvik, +Oiland came up to him and begged the favour of a +"serious word" with him. Sukkestad wondered what +on earth was coming, as the other took him by the +arm and dragged him off to the forepart of the ship.</p> + +<p>"I have had the pleasure of being a frequent guest +in your house," Peter began, buttonholing Sukkestad +as if to make sure he did not escape.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't have thought it could be any pleasure +to you," put in Sukkestad dryly.</p> + +<p>"It has indeed, my dear fellow; and I have the +more reason to say so, since your daughter Andrea——"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Forgive my saying so, Mr. Sukkestad, but your +daughter has made a deep impression on me."</p> + +<p>"Really, Mr. Oiland, this...." Sukkestad trembled +at what was to come.</p> + +<p>"A deep impression on me. And I think I may +venture to say that she herself——"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, Mr. Oiland. My daughter has no +feelings in any matter before consulting her father's +wishes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but she has, my dear father-in-law, I assure you."</p> + +<p>"Father-in-law Mr. Oiland, this is most unseemly +jesting." Sukkestad tried to break away, but Peter +held him fast.</p> + +<p>"But, my dear sir, what objection can you have +to the match? We've always got on splendidly +together, and I'm sure this present voyage, and our +little adventures on the way, will always be among +our most cherished memories—won't they, now?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, this is too much! I would recommend you, +Mr. Oiland——"</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_211" id="Page_211" title="[Pg 211]"></a> +"Most kind of you. I was sure you would. And +I'm quite an eligible suitor, really, you know. Got my +degree—rather low on the list, I confess, but, anyhow.... +I ought to tell you, though, that I don't propose +to enter the Church."</p> + +<p>"Something to be thankful for at least," said +Sukkestad.</p> + +<p>"So glad you agree with me. Delighted, really. +Well, my dear fellow, I can understand you're a little +overwhelmed just at the moment, but we can settle +the details when we're at home and at leisure. We're +agreed on the essential point, so that's all right."</p> + +<p>Oiland let go his hold, and Sukkestad hurried off to +his cabin and began getting his things together in +feverish haste. What, give his daughter, his only +child, to a fellow like that? Never!</p> + +<p>They got in without further event, and parted on +the quay, Oiland shaking hands fervently with a hearty +"Thanks for your pleasant company," while Sukkestad +murmured absently: "Not at all, not at all."</p> + +<p>Sukkestad had hardly got inside the house when +Andrea came rushing up to him. "Oh, wasn't it a +lovely speech of Oiland's? The parson's just been in +and told us; simply splendid, he says it was."</p> + +<p>"Well, my child, that's a matter of opinion."</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, you're always so severe," said Andrea, +turning away with tears in her eyes.</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour later Sukkestad and his wife +were unpacking in the bedroom, and a serious conference +took place between the two. He recounted +Oiland's behaviour on the voyage. "And I do hope +things haven't gone so far between them as he says," +observed Sukkestad sternly, with a meaning glance at +his wife. The latter turned away, wiping her eyes on<a class="pagenum" name="Page_212" id="Page_212" title="[Pg 212]"></a> +a corner of her apron, and sniffing the while. "Marie, +you don't mean to say you've been a party to it yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I—yes—no, that is—— Oh, don't be angry with +me. I did think he was such a nice man, really I did."</p> + +<p>"Well, we must see what can be done," said +Sukkestad.</p> + +<p>That evening it was decided that Andrea should be +sent as a Warder to the Moravian Mission at Kristiansfeldt.</p> + +<p>Andrea wept bitterly, but to no purpose; she had +to go, whether she liked it or not.</p> + +<p>Peter Oiland came several times to the house, but +got no farther than the doorstep; the maid invariably +greeted him with the words: "Mr. Sukkestad's compliments, +sir, but he's not at home."</p> + +<p>On the occasion of his last attempt before Andrea's +departure, he had just got out of the gate when he +heard the drawing-room window open, and Andrea's +well-known voice singing:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iminus">"Thou are my one and only thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My one and only love...."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He stopped and looked up, but saw only the stern +countenance of Papa Sukkestad hastily closing the +window, and the music ceased abruptly.</p> + +<p>It was quite enough for Peter, however, and he +walked home gaily, confident now that all would go +well.</p> + +<p>Andrea went off without having spoken to Oiland, +but the post was busy between Strandvik and Kristiansfeldt, +for letters passed daily either way—while Mrs. +Sukkestad went about complaining that Andrea never +wrote home.</p> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_213" id="Page_213" title="[Pg 213]"></a></p> +<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI<br /> +EMILIE RANTZAU</h2> + + +<p>Old Marthe Pettersen, who had been housekeeper +to Old Nick for nearly thirty years, +had taken pneumonia and died a fortnight +after Christmas; she had at least chosen a convenient +time, having made all culinary preparations for the +festival beforehand.</p> + +<p>Old Nick was inconsolable, for Selma Rordam, +whom he had got in as a temporary help, was hopelessly +incapable; either the cod would be unsalted and +insipid or she would serve it up in a liquor approaching +brine, not to speak of throwing away the best parts, +and boiling the roe to nothing. And last Sunday's +joint of beef had been so tough that he had seriously +considered sending it in to the Society for Preservation +of Ancient Relics. His breakfast eggs were constantly +hard boiled, despite his ironic inquiries as to whether +she thought he wanted them for billiard balls. And +as for sewing on buttons—for the past fourteen days +he had been reduced to boring holes in the waist of +his trousers and fastening them with bits of wood. +Everything was going wrong all round.</p> + +<p>"Very inconvenient, yes," said Nachmann, called +in to discuss the situation. "But you'll see it'll come +all right in time. Now you take my advice and +advertise in the papers for someone; she's sure to<a class="pagenum" name="Page_214" id="Page_214" title="[Pg 214]"></a> +come along: 'Wanted, an ideal woman, to restore +domestic bliss.'" The pair sat down accordingly +to draft out an advertisement, each to write one out +of his own head.</p> + +<p>Nachmann's, when completed, ran as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="bqheading b0">"<span class="smcap">Matrimonial.</span></p> + +<p>"Bachelor, middle-aged, no children, would like to +make acquaintance of an educated lady of suitable +age—widow not objected to. Must be accustomed to +domestic duties and of bright and cheerful temperament. +Private means not so essential as amiability. +Reply to 'Earnest,' office of this paper."</p> +</div> + +<p>Old Nick tore up this effusion, and inserted his own, +which said:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="bqheading b0">"<span class="smcap">Housekeeper.</span></p> + +<p>"Lady, middle-aged, thoroughly capable cook and +housekeeper, wanted for elderly gentleman's house +in seaport town. Remuneration by arrangement; +ability and pleasant companionship most essential. +Particulars to 'Cookery,' c/o this paper."</p> +</div> + +<p>During the week that followed Old Nick was positively +inundated with applications. There were +cook-maids, hot and cold, with years of experience +at first-class hotels; reliable women from outlying +country districts; widows from small townships up and +down the coast; while a "clergyman's daughter, aged +twenty-three," who already considered herself middle-aged, +gave Old Nick some food for thought.</p> + +<p>Among all these various documents, some large, and +small, and bold, others timidly small, was a little pink<a class="pagenum" name="Page_215" id="Page_215" title="[Pg 215]"></a> +envelope addressed in a delicate hand. The letter +contained, ran as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>,—In reply to your advertisement in +to-day's paper I venture to offer my services as housekeeper. +I am a widow without encumbrance, age +thirty-seven, with long experience of keeping house, +and able to undertake any reasonable work desired.</p> + +<p>"I am of a bright and cheerful temper, with many +interests, musical, good reader, and would do my +utmost to make your home pleasant and comfortable +in every way.</p> + +<p class="b0">"Trusting to be favoured with a reply, when further +particulars can be forwarded.—I beg to remain, yours +very truly,</p> + +<p class="sig">"<span class="smcap">Emilie Rantzau</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>Old Nick sat for a long while staring thoughtfully +before him.</p> + +<p>"Widow, thirty-seven, long experience of keeping +house, bright and cheerful temper.... I tell you +what, Nachmann, this looks like what we want."</p> + +<p>"Heavens, man, but she's musical—what do you +want with that sort of thing in the house? No, no, +my friend; the devil take that widow for his housekeeper—not +you. She'd play you out of house and +home in no time, my boy."</p> + +<p>"Well, you know, really, I was getting a bit sick +of old Marthe. Felt the lack of refined womanly influence +now and again. And I must say this—what's +her name—Emilie Rantzau rather appeals to me. +There's something, I don't know what to call it, about +her letter. Sort of ladylike, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and perfumed too, lovely, m-m-m. Patchouli!" +said Nachmann, holding the envelope to +Nickelsen's nose.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_216" id="Page_216" title="[Pg 216]"></a> +After some further deliberation Old Nick wrote to +Mrs. Emilie Rantzau, and learned that she was the +widow of a Danish artist, had spent many years +abroad, and wished now to find a position in some +small town where she could live a quiet, retired life, +occupied solely with her duties.</p> + +<p>Her letters were so frank and sincere, that they +made quite an impression on Old Nick, and he decided +to engage her. She was to come on Saturday, and on +the Friday before, Nickelsen did not go to his office +at all, but stayed at home, going about dusting the +rooms with an old handkerchief.</p> + +<p>Thinking the place looked rather bare, he obtained +a big palm and an indiarubber plant to brighten +things up a little.</p> + +<p>He was queerly nervous and ill at ease every day, +with a feeling as if some misfortune were on the way. +What would she be like, he wondered? If the experiment +turned out a failure, there would be an end +of his domestic peace. Perhaps after all he would +have done better to stick to the Marthe type....</p> + +<p>They were seated at dinner, and her fine dark eyes +played over his face.</p> + +<p>"No, you must let me make the salad. I promise +you it shall be good." And she took the bowl, her +soft, delicate hand just touching his as she did so.</p> + +<p>Old Nick murmured something politely, and was conscious +that he flushed up to the roots of his white mane.</p> + +<p>"Queer sort of woman this." It was on the tip of +his tongue to say it aloud, but he checked himself in +time. The joint was served, and for the first time +in his life he forgot to pick out the marrow. Fancy +forgetting that! In old Marthe's time he invariably +sent for toast, and a spoon to get it out with; now he<a class="pagenum" name="Page_217" id="Page_217" title="[Pg 217]"></a> +sat attentively listening to Mrs. Rantzau's stories of +the theatre in Copenhagen.</p> + +<p>"Very nice claret this of yours, Mr. Nickelsen. I +know '78 is supposed to be the best—good body they +say. Funny, isn't it, to talk of wine having a body."</p> + +<p>She looked across at him with a smile, showing two +rows of fine white teeth. Then, rising, she went over +to the sideboard to show him that she too knew how to +carve a joint. Old Nick took advantage of the opportunity +to observe her more closely.</p> + +<p>Dark, glistening hair, tied in what is called a +Gordian knot at the back, with a tiny curl or so +lower down, and a beautiful white neck. She was +not tall, but her figure was well rounded, and the +close-fitting dark dress showed it off to perfection.</p> + +<p>Old Nick was so intent in studying her that he had +not time to look away before she turned round and +laughingly exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Well, are you afraid I shall spoil the joint?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed; I see you are an expert at carving."</p> + +<p>In his confusion he upset the sauce tureen. But +Mrs. Rantzau laughed heartily, holding his arm as she +declared she must evidently have brought misfortune +in her train.</p> + +<p>Old Nick had been rather uneasy at the thought of +what to say to her, but she made conversation so +easily herself that he had only to put in an odd remark +here and there: "Yes, of course, yes." "No, indeed." +"Exactly."</p> + +<p>In the evening Thor Smith, Nachmann and Warden +Prois came round for their weekly game of cards. +They were all remarkably punctual to-day: the clock +had not struck seven before all three were in the hall, +and all with unfeigned curiosity plainly on their faces.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_218" id="Page_218" title="[Pg 218]"></a> +"I'm dying to see how the old man gets on with this +gay widow," said Thor Smith, touching up his hair +and tie before the glass—a nicety he had never troubled +about on previous visits to Old Nick.</p> + +<p>Red paper shades had been put on the lamps, and +the table was fully laid with tea-urn, cups and saucers, +cakes and little fringed serviettes.</p> + +<p>Old Nick, in a black frock-coat, advanced ceremoniously +towards them; he said very little, however, +and seemed generally rather ill at ease.</p> + +<p>"Rather a change this," thought Warden Prois. +He was more accustomed to finding Old Nick on such +occasions in dressing-gown and slippers, with his old +rocking-chair drawn up, and his feet on the table. +Then, when he heard his visitors arrive, he would send +a gruff hail to the kitchen: "Marthe, you old slow-coach, +hurry up with that hot water, or I'll...." +But to-day he was as polished and precise as an old +marquis.</p> + +<p>Prois glanced over towards Nachmann, and Thor +Smith in despair picked up an ancient album that +he had seen at least a hundred times before; the +only pictures in it were portraits of the former parson, +and of Pepita, a dancer, who had adorned the stage +some forty years earlier, when Old Nick was young.</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Rantzau came in. She wore a black +velvet dress, with a little red silk handkerchief +coquettishly stuck in the breast.</p> + +<p>Old Nick introduced them. She was certainly +handsome, as she greeted each of the guests with a +kindly word and a smile.</p> + +<p>Tea was served, and she handed a cup to Smith and +one to Prois. Nachmann had retired to the farthest +corner of the sofa, as if on his guard.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_219" id="Page_219" title="[Pg 219]"></a> +She held out a cup towards him. "Mr. Nachmann, +a cup of tea now?"</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, I can drink most things made with +water, including soda, potash and Apollinaris, but +tea—no. It affects my nerves. Mr. Prois, now, is a +confirmed tea-drinker; he'll have two cups at least, +I'm sure."</p> + +<p>Prois gave a furious glance at Nachmann, and +struggled desperately with some sort of cake with +currants in, and these he managed to spit out on the +sly, hiding them in his waistcoat pocket.</p> + +<p>At last the toddy and the cards appeared. Mrs. +Rantzau sat close at hand, working at her embroidery, +a large piece of canvas with a design representing Diana +in the act of throwing a big spear at a retreating lion.</p> + +<p>Nachmann, the only one who had retained his self-possession, +was master of the situation.</p> + +<p>"Now, what's that supposed to be, may I ask?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you can see, Mr. Nachmann. I'm sure it's +plain enough."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, honestly, my dear lady, I should say +that Diana there is the very image of your charming +self, and the terrified animal in the corner looks remarkably +like our host. I do hope you'll be careful with +that spear!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rantzau was plainly offended, and gave him a +sharp glance of reproof from her dark eyes.</p> + +<p>"Ah, now you're angry, I can see. But really it +was quite innocently meant."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rantzau rose and left the room hastily. There +was an awkward pause, until Thor Smith took up the +cards and began to shuffle.</p> + +<p>"Water isn't hot," muttered Old Nick, clasping +both hands about the jug.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_220" id="Page_220" title="[Pg 220]"></a> +"Only wait a little, old boy, and you'll find it hot +enough, or I'm much mistaken. Ah, well, such is life +without a wife.... Here, I say, where's your head +to-night, Nickelsen. Bless my soul, if you haven't +given them the game!"</p> + +<p>Old Nick complained of headache that evening, +and the party broke up earlier than usual. So early, +indeed, that Thor Smith had scarcely finished his first +glass, or the first cataract, as he called it, whereas +ordinarily the third would be reached and passed in +the course of the evening's play.</p> + +<p>The three friends walked home together, all very +serious, and greatly troubled in mind as to Old Nick's +future.</p> + +<p>Prois in particular took a most gloomy view. "It's +a dangerous age for that sort of thing; comes on +suddenly, before you know where you are." He was +thinking of his own experiences in that direction; it +was only four years since he had been wild to marry +that young governess at the Abrahamsens', the disaster, +however, being fortunately averted by the intervention +of Pedersen, the telegraphist, who cut in and won her +before he, Prois, had screwed himself up to the question.</p> + +<p>Old Nick hardly knew the place again when he +came down to breakfast next morning, to find Mrs. +Rantzau presiding at table in a pink morning-gown +and dainty shoes. The walls were decorated with +Chinese paper fans in flowery designs, and Japanese +parasols; the sofas had been moved out at all angles +about the room. A big palm waved above his writing-table, +and all the papers on it were neatly arranged in +two piles of equal size, one on either hand.</p> + +<p>At sight of this his blood began to boil; his writing-table +was sacred; no human hand but his own had<a class="pagenum" name="Page_221" id="Page_221" title="[Pg 221]"></a> +touched it for the past forty years. Old Marthe +herself, when dusting the room, had been as shy of +coming near it as if it had been a red-hot stove. Nevertheless, +Old Nick found himself unable to say a word; +Mrs. Rantzau's smile and her dark eyes threw him into +utter confusion.</p> + +<p>One day, happening to come in for some papers, he +found her in the act of taking the documents of a case +pending—"Strandvik Postal Authorities <i>v.</i> Holmestrand +Town Council"—to clean the lamps with. But +here he was obliged to put his foot down and protest. +If he could not trust his papers to be left in safety on +his table, why, he might as well move out of the house.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rantzau looked at him with great imploring +eyes, and was so contrite; he must forgive her, she +was so dreadfully stupid; she had no idea that papers +could be so important.</p> + +<p>Old Nick could not help smiling, and peace was +restored, on condition that for the future only newspapers +should be used for cleaning purposes. This +naturally led to Old Nick's finding the one particular +journal he wanted to read after dinner had been +sacrificed.</p> + +<p>She was undeniably handsome, however, especially +in that pink morning-gown as she sat at the breakfast-table, +while Old Nick revived his early memories and +endeavoured to play the youthful cavalier.</p> + +<p>Friends of the house were soon thoroughly convinced +that Old Nick was done for; the widow had captivated +him beyond recall. Thor Smith, thinking a warning +might yet be in time, sent him anonymously the +following lines:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iminus">"Be careful of taking a widow to wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She'll lighten your purse and burden your life."<br /></span> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_222" id="Page_222" title="[Pg 222]"></a></div></div> + +<p>Nickelsen, however, recognised the writing, and +promptly sent back a reply:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iminus">"Best thanks for your advice, my friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas really kind of you to send;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still, considering whence it came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can manage without it all the same.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So keep your triplets, one—two—three,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A widow without is enough for me!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>A grand ball was to be held at the Town Hall, in +aid of the Fund for National Defence. Old Nick had +no intention of going himself, but Mrs. Rantzau +pointed out that it was his duty, as a loyal and +patriotic citizen, to attend. Accordingly, albeit not +without considerable hesitation, he decided to go. +She tied his dress-bow for him, and put a red rosebud +with a tip of fern in his buttonhole. She herself, with +Old Nick in attendance, sailed into the ballroom like +a queen, with pearls in her hair, and her dark blue +silk dress fitting like the corslet of a Valkyrie.</p> + +<p>The company made way for her involuntarily, and +she was placed at the upper end of the hall, between +Mrs. Jansen and Mrs. Heidt. The last named lady, +who was ceremonious and reserved by nature, besides +being conscious of representing the aristocracy of the +town, was chilliness itself towards this newly risen +star. Mrs. Jansen, on the other hand, a kindly soul, +felt obliged to show her some little attention, and +introduced her to a number of those present.</p> + +<p>Dr. Stromberg, a middle-aged bachelor, had the +reputation of falling in love with every new specimen +of the fair sex he encountered. True to his character, +he at once attached himself to Mrs. Rantzau, whose +conquest of Strandvik was thus begun.</p> + +<p>Old Nick sat in a corner talking to Winter, the<a class="pagenum" name="Page_223" id="Page_223" title="[Pg 223]"></a> +Customs Officer, his eyes incessantly following the +blue silk gown as it passed. His old heart was so +restless and unruly, he began to wonder seriously if +something had gone wrong with the internal mechanism. +Cards, drinks, old friends, all were forgotten that +evening he had no thought but for that figure in the +blue silk dress that was ever before his eyes. He had +experienced hallucinations before, when things seemed +to dance round and round, but to-night, with nothing +stronger than soda water—neat—it was past all +comprehension.</p> + +<p>In a circle of men, old and young, stood Emilie +Rantzau, smiling and alert. She was sought after at +every dance, until Mrs. Thor Smith, née Tulla Prois, +observed indignantly that one might think the men +had never seen a woman from another town before—and +Heaven only knew what sort of a creature this +one was. Mrs. Jansen herself began to be rather +uneasy, when she saw her husband lead out the widow +as his partner for the lancers—or "lunchers" as +Cilia Braaten called it. And matters were not +improved when the Consul started talking French +with Mrs. Rantzau at supper, of which his wife did +not understand a word.</p> + +<p>"She's charming, my dear, a most interesting +woman, and speaks French like an educated +Parisienne," said Jansen to his wife.</p> + +<p>Poor Mrs. Jansen was beginning to experience the +pangs of jealousy, and determined to purchase a +<i>French made Easy</i> the very next day.</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul, if there isn't Justice Heidt asking +the angelic widow for a dance," exclaimed Thor +Smith, pulling Nachmann by the sleeve.</p> + +<p>"Angelic widow's good," said Nachmann. "But<a class="pagenum" name="Page_224" id="Page_224" title="[Pg 224]"></a> +there's angels and angels, you know. And they'd +have to be a bit on the dusky side to pair off with +Old Nick, what?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Heidt got up and went into an adjoining room, +sending her husband a glance as she passed which +sobered him considerably for the moment. It was +not long, however, before the brilliant dark eyes had +made him forget both his dignity and his domestic +obligations.</p> + +<p>Old Nick was very taciturn that evening as he +walked home with Mrs. Rantzau. She, however, +laughed and joked, and told stories of "all those silly +old men" with such wit and good humour that he +was forced to admit it would have been a pity not to +have gone to the ball. "Yes, a very jolly evening; +very nice indeed, yes."</p> + +<p>On the following day the "angelic widow" and +her conquests at the ball were the general topic of +conversation. The ladies, old and young, married +and the reverse, agreed that she was detestable, and +were sure there must be something "queer" about +her. Mrs. Heidt and Mrs. Knap had a two hours' +consultation together, at the end of which it was +decided that no effort should be spared to check +"that woman's" further encroachment upon local +society.</p> + +<p>All the men, with exception of Thor Smith and Nachmann, +were enthusiastic in praise of the new arrival, +and her popularity on that side was assured.</p> + +<p>Emilie Rantzau, however, had her own plans, and +let people talk as they pleased.</p> + +<p>One day she astonished Mrs. Jansen by calling on +her with a proposal that the ladies of the town should +get up a bazaar in aid of the Seamen's Families Relief<a class="pagenum" name="Page_225" id="Page_225" title="[Pg 225]"></a> +Fund. On another occasion she went to Mrs. Heidt, +and begged her to support the National Women's +Movement; she also invited Governor Abrahamsen +to help start a society for helping ex-convicts to +turn over a new leaf. Even Klementsen was urged +to help her in getting up a subscription for a new +altar-piece.</p> + +<p>In addition to these more or less philanthropic +movements, she arranged excursions to the country +round, the beauties of which, she declared, were not +appreciated as they should be, and further, obtained +the assistance of Consul Jansen in forming a Society +for the Furtherance of the Tourist Traffic in Strandvik +and Neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>The Consul was delighted with the idea, and vowed +he must have been blind not to have discovered earlier +the natural beauties of the neighbourhood. He gave +a grand champagne supper and proposed Mrs. +Rantzau's health in a speech, concluding by comparing +that lady to "a breath of ocean fresh and +free." The toast was received with acclamation.</p> + +<p>Altogether, the upper circles of Strandvik society +were thrown into a state of unprecedented excitement +and activity.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Heidt, Mrs. Knap and Mrs. Abrahamsen vied +with one another in their efforts to outdo Mrs. Rantzau; +they would show her at least that they were as good +as she.</p> + +<p>It was a fight to the bitter end.</p> + +<p>Societies were started, with "evenings" after, +where Emilie Rantzau's plans were discussed.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Heidt thought and thought till she grew giddy +and had to have hot fomentations of an evening; +the unusual mental effort had brought on insomnia.<a class="pagenum" name="Page_226" id="Page_226" title="[Pg 226]"></a> +Sukkerstad hoped to find in Mrs. Rantzau an ally to +the cause of temperance, and paid her a ceremonial +call, in company with Watchmaker Rordam, who, a +short while back, had suddenly joined the Temperance +Association, "Strandvik's Pride." And the pair of +them explained to her, with all the eloquence at their +command, how greatly her patronage would be appreciated +by all.</p> + +<p>Emilie Rantzau, however, hardly thought her own +interests in the town would be greatly furthered by +closer association with Sukkerstad and his circle; on +the other hand, it was just as well to keep on good +terms with all sections of local society. She therefore +informed the deputation that she would think over +the matter, and assured them meanwhile of her +earnest sympathy with the good cause.</p> + +<p>The same day she hurried up to Consul Jansen, +switched on her eloquent dark eyes, and suggested +that the Temperance Movement was one they ought +to support, but that the best way of doing so would +be to get up a little subscription, and raise enough for +an excursion—a steamer trip for the afternoon, with +tea and lemonade. "It would look well, you know, +and all that—and get them off our hands for a bit," +she added meaningly.</p> + +<p>No one could refuse her, and in the course of one +afternoon she managed to collect eight pounds, which +she dispatched to Sukkerstad and Rordam for the +purpose indicated. Sukkerstad was so enthusiastic in +his appreciation that he determined to convene a +meeting of the committee and propose a vote of thanks +and an address.</p> + +<p>All the members turned up, with the exception of +Rordam, who, in his joy at the eight pounds, had given<a class="pagenum" name="Page_227" id="Page_227" title="[Pg 227]"></a> +way to a sudden relapse, which rendered him incapable +of further temperance work for the time being.</p> + +<p>After some discussion, the committee decided to +purchase a portrait of Mrs. Rantzau from the photographer, +and hang it up in their hall; this was voted +preferable to the address.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Heidt was beginning to lag behind; it was +impossible to keep pace with a woman of such untiring +energy and initiative as Mrs. Rantzau.</p> + +<p>Four ladies were gathered one day in her drawing-room, +to talk over what was to be done; they could +not suffer themselves to be set aside like this. What +they wanted was some grand idea, something to +vanquish the enemy at a single blow, and show the +rest of the town that Emilie Rantzau was not wanted.</p> + +<p>It was Mrs. Knap who had the happy thought—the +Peace Movement. The cause of universal peace was +surely one which nobody in Strandvik could refuse +to aid.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Abrahamsen was more inclined to concentrate +on a bazaar and lottery in aid of the proposed crematorium, +which institution she regarded as most desirable +from the humane, the sanitary and various other +points of view.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Knap protested energetically against the idea; +she had recently had an accident with a box of matches, +which had gone off suddenly and burnt her hand. She +for her part would have nothing more to do with +burning—for the present, at any rate.</p> + +<p>Finally, after some heated argument, it was agreed +that a grand harvest festival should be held, the +proceeds to be devoted to the cause of universal +peace.</p> + +<p>Emilie Rantzau was to be kept out of it altogether;<a class="pagenum" name="Page_228" id="Page_228" title="[Pg 228]"></a> +they would not have her help in the arrangements, +not a contribution—not so much as a bunch of flowers +was to come from her; it was to be a festival "for +ourselves and by ourselves." The old ladies were +already triumphant; this intriguing minx, this person +from nowhere, who had tried to force herself into +society, should be made to feel their power and her +own insignificance. The festival was to be held in the +park on Sunday, from five to nine; there would be +illuminations, coloured lanterns, fireworks and so +on. Singing,—male and female choir,—lecture by a +Professor from Christiania, recitation by a famous +actor, solos by an amateur and an "amatrice"—it +was a programme so magnificent that the whole town +was amazed.</p> + +<p>Meantime, Mrs. Rantzau sat quietly at home, in her +pink morning-gown, pouring out coffee for Nickelsen. +She was very quiet and gentle in manner—there was +a curious atmosphere about the situation generally.</p> + +<p>There lay the morning papers, white, uncrumpled, +untouched. The coffee now seethed gently in little +regular gasps, like a school-mistress out on a mountaineering +expedition; the sun peeped in through the +windows, casting gay gleams over Old Nick's white +mop of hair and Emilie's raven locks.</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't I be happy the few years I've still +to live? And who is to have my money when I'm +gone?" Old Nick sat staring absently before him.</p> + +<p>She bent over towards him, handing his cup; he +felt her soft, curling tresses close to his cheek, and her +hand just touched his own.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Rantzau!" he exclaimed, flushing as he +spoke; his voice was unsteady.</p> + +<p>"Why, how serious you are all of a sudden! You<a class="pagenum" name="Page_229" id="Page_229" title="[Pg 229]"></a> +quite frightened me," she said, with a laugh, looking +up at him innocently.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Rantzau," he began again, "do you know +that poem of Byronson, that—that begins:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iminus2">"'When blushing blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In humble mood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turns to the man whose mind is proved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When timid, shy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She seeks....'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Lord bless me, old boy, spouting poetry so early +in the morning! Did you think it was Constitution +Day—or the day after?"</p> + +<p>Old Nick looked round anything but amiably at +Nachmann's unbeautiful face smiling in the doorway; +Mrs. Rantzau left the room without a word.</p> + +<p>A long and earnest conference ensued between the +two men, after which they went out for a long walk +together.</p> + +<p>Emilie Rantzau felt now that her position was +secure; it was only a question of time before she could +appear as Mrs. Nickelsen. And inwardly she vowed +vengeance on the women who had systematically +excluded her from the Peace Festival; she pondered +how best to get even with Mrs. Heidt and the rest.</p> + +<p>It took a deal of thinking out, but at last she hit +upon a way. Quickly she put on her things, and +hurried round to her faithful supporter, Consul Jansen.</p> + +<p>On Saturday evening, the <i>Strandvik News</i> appeared, +and created an indescribable sensation throughout the +town by printing immediately under the big announcement +of the festival in the park, the following lines:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="spacewords center italic b0">"N.B. N.B.</p> + +<p>"After the conclusion of the festival, an impromptu<a class="pagenum" name="Page_230" id="Page_230" title="[Pg 230]"></a> +dance for young people will take place in the Town +Hall. Tickets, three shillings each. The surplus will +be devoted to the Society for Tending Sick and +Wounded in the Field. Mrs. Emma Jansen and +Mrs. Emilie Rantzau have kindly consented to act as +hostesses."</p> +</div> + +<p>Mrs. Heidt started up in a fury, and declared it was +a disgraceful piece of trickery on the part of that +Emilie Rantzau. She could forgive Mrs. Jansen, +perhaps, as being too much of a simpleton herself to +see through the artful meanness of the whole thing.</p> + +<p>On Sunday evening, after the festival, all the young +people and a number of the older ones flocked to the +Town Hall, where Mrs. Rantzau received them with +her most winning smile.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Heidt, Mrs. Knap and Mrs. Abrahamsen went +each to their several homes, boiling with indignation; +they had not even been invited to look on.</p> + +<p>Some few there were, perhaps, who failed to see any +immediate connection between a Peace Festival and +the Society for Tending Sick and Wounded in the Field, +but all enjoyed themselves thoroughly, and that, after +all, was the main thing.</p> + +<p>Emilie Rantzau was the queen of the ball, and well +aware of it. She felt she had vanquished her rivals +now, and was left in victorious possession of the field. +One thing, however, caused her some slight anxiety, +and that was that Nickelsen did not put in an appearance, +though he had promised to come on later—what +could it mean?</p> + +<p>Old Nick was sitting at home, deep in thought, +and with him were Thor Smith, Nachmann and +Warden Prois.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_231" id="Page_231" title="[Pg 231]"></a> +"You must see and get clear of this, Nickelsen," +said Prois warmly, laying one hand on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose I must. But the worst of it is, +I've got fond of her, you see, and I've been hoping +she'd brighten up the few years I've got left."</p> + +<p>"I know, I know," said Prois. "I've been through +exactly the same thing myself, a few years back, but, +thanks to Providence, I got out of it all right."</p> + +<p>"Don't blame it on Providence, Warden," put +in Nachmann. "It was that telegraph fellow you +had to thank for cutting you out."</p> + +<p>"It's not a matter for joking," said Prois sharply; +and Nachmann withdrew to a corner of the sofa, +quite depressed by the seriousness of the situation.</p> + +<p>Thor Smith could stand it no longer; this unwonted +solemnity was too much for him. He slipped +out into the hall, and, sitting down on an old leather +trunk, laughed till he cried.</p> + +<p>There was a long conference at Old Nick's that +evening, and it was one o'clock before he faithfully +promised to follow his friends' advice, and thrust out +Emilie Rantzau from his house and heart.</p> + +<p>How this was to be accomplished must be decided +later; meantime the conspirators would take it in +turn to dine with Old Nick and spend the rest of the +day with him, to guard against any backsliding.</p> + +<p>Old Nick agreed to it all, helplessly as a child.</p> + +<p>How could they get her to go? The question was +argued and discussed, but no one could hit upon any +reasonable plan. At last they decided to call in +Peter Oiland, who had lately been on terms of intimacy +with Old Nick, and see what he could do.</p> + +<p>Peter Oiland put on a serious face, and looked +doubtfully over at Prois, whose mind was becoming<a class="pagenum" name="Page_232" id="Page_232" title="[Pg 232]"></a> +almost unhinged by these everlasting conferences and +endless discussions, while the seriousness of the situation +forbade any over-hasty steps.</p> + +<p>"Well, we can't very well turn her out by force," +said Peter Oiland. "The only thing to do is to try +and get at the soft side of her: an appeal to the +heart, you understand."</p> + +<p>"H'm; her heart's like the drawers in my store," +said Nachmann. "In and out according to what's +wanted."</p> + +<p>Peter Oiland determined nevertheless to make an +attempt. He would say nothing for the present as +to the details of his plan; he had an idea, and hoped +it might succeed.</p> + +<p>Meantime, Emilie Rantzau continued her triumphant +progress; she was leading society in Strandvik. Her +dresses, her manner, were a standing topic among +the ladies of the town, who hated and admired her +at once. She on her part was happy enough, but at a +loss to understand why Nickelsen was so unpardonably +tardy in making his declaration; still, it could +only be a question of time; she felt safe enough.</p> + +<p>One day there came a letter from Christiania, which +in a flash threw Strandvik and its entire society into +the background. It ran as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Emilie Rantzau</span>,—Years, many years, +have passed since we last met. Do you remember +a fair young man whom you often saw at Mrs. Moller's, +when you were a boarder there as a girl? But there +were so many of us young students who were all more +or less in love with you at that time, and I hardly +dare suppose you would have any special recollection +of my humble self. It would be only natural that<a class="pagenum" name="Page_233" id="Page_233" title="[Pg 233]"></a> +you should have forgotten. But I have never, never +forgotten Emilie Storm, as you were then.</p> + +<p>"I was poor and unknown at the time, and poor, +alas, I remained for many years, until at last I had no +longer any hope of meeting you again, as I had +dreamed—yet I have followed your career, and +kept myself informed as to your circumstances. I +learned of your husband's death, and that you are +now obliged to earn your livelihood as housekeeper +to an old bachelor in a little out-of-the-way place.</p> + +<p>"To think that you—you, Emilie, who have never +for a single day been absent from my thoughts, should +be wasting away your life among the yokels of an +insignificant seaport town.</p> + +<p>"And I—I am alone and lonely now, back at home +after many long years of toil in the great cities of +Europe, and the fortune I have made is useless to +me. For money cannot purchase happiness, or bring +back the dreams of youth.</p> + +<p>"Emilie, shall we try to come together? Shall we +renew our old acquaintance, and see if we can find +that mutual sympathy which binds one life to +another?</p> + +<p class="b0">"If you are willing, then let us meet. My name +you need not know. I should prefer you to find me +as I am now, not as the ardent youth I was when +first we met, but as a man, sobered by trials and +experience, who has nevertheless maintained the +ideals of early days unscathed throughout the battle +of life. You may reply to</p> + +<p class="sig">"<span class="smcap">Abraham Hertz</span>.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Poste restante, Christiania.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<p>She read the letter through a dozen times at least, +and sat puzzling her brains to try and recollect a<a class="pagenum" name="Page_234" id="Page_234" title="[Pg 234]"></a> +"fair young man," who had been one of her admirers +at Mrs. Moller's. She could make nothing of it. She +had been only seventeen at the time, and had had +such a host of admirers before and since; it was too +much to expect that she should recollect them all.</p> + +<p>But was it meant in earnest now, or was the whole +thing a vulgar hoax?</p> + +<p>This lawyer of hers was but a poor creature after +all; red-nosed, almost a dotard—ugh! To think of +getting away from it all and go to Christiania, perhaps +Paris, Vienna, Rome—away! And then to be rich—rich! +Poverty was a dreadful thing to face, dreadful +even to think of. Was she to grow old, and ugly, +and poor?</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"<span class="smcap">Mr. Abraham Hertz</span>,—Your kind letter received. +I set great store by old friends, and should therefore +be glad to renew the acquaintance, but must confess +that I am unwilling to enter upon a correspondence +with one who remains anonymous. How can I be +sure that I am not exposing myself to a mischievous +practical joke?</p> + +<p class="b0">"I should be glad of a photo, in order if possible +to identify the 'fair young man.'</p> + +<p class="sig">"E. R."</p> +</div> + +<p>Two days later came a registered letter.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"<span class="smcap">Mrs. Emilie Rantzau</span>,—How could you ever +think I was joking? However, that you may no longer +doubt for a moment the seriousness of my intentions, +I enclose £50, with the request that you will come to +Christiania as soon as possible. If you will put up at +Mrs. Irving's <i>pension</i>, I will meet you there.</p> + +<p class="b0">"Enclosed is a photo of the fair young man, but<a class="pagenum" name="Page_235" id="Page_235" title="[Pg 235]"></a> +for Heaven's sake do not imagine that it resembles +your admirer now, with his eight-and-forty years.—Au +revoir.</p> + +<p class="sig">"A. H."</p> +</div> + +<p>Emilie had never handled a £50 note before in her +life. She spread it out on the table, smoothing it with +her fingers so tenderly that Old Nick, had he seen +her, would have been frantic with jealousy. She even +kissed the portrait of His Majesty in the corners before +hiding the note away in her breast.</p> + +<p>Old Nick was utterly astonished when Mrs. Rantzau +informed him that she found herself compelled to +leave Strandvik, the air, unfortunately, did not agree +with her. She seemed, too, remarkably cool in her +manner towards him; her customary smile had faded +somewhat, and her ardent eyes, that had been wont +to focus themselves upon his own, seemed now to +flicker vaguely in no particular direction.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rantzau's sudden departure occasioned much +comment. Her most faithful admirer, Consul Jansen, +turned up with a big bunch of flowers, and hoisted the +flag in his garden at half-mast.</p> + +<p>Old Nick, of course, went down to the quay to see +her off. As a matter of fact, however, he was now +beginning to find the situation rather humorous—a +symptom which Thor Smith diagnosed as indicating +that his old friend was well on the way at least to +convalescence, if not to complete recovery.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rantzau stood on the upper deck in her dark +blue dress, with the little toque coquettishly aslant on +her head. She waved her handkerchief, and Consul +Jansen cried: "<i lang="fr">Adieu, au revoir!</i>"</p> + +<p>"<span lang="fr">Merci, Monsieur le Consul; je regrette que vous +soyez obligé de rester ici parmi ces dromadaires-ci.</span>"<a class="pagenum" name="Page_236" id="Page_236" title="[Pg 236]"></a> +That was Emilie Rantzau's farewell to Strandvik. +As for Old Nick, she did not even grant him so much +as a nod.</p> + +<p>On the way home he encountered a procession of +urchins, ragged, bare-legged and boisterous, waving +Japanese fans and Chinese parasols—properties which +he seemed to recognise.</p> + +<p>"Here, you boys, where did you get those things +from?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Nachmann gave us them. He threw them out +of Nickelsen's window," cried the youngsters in +chorus.</p> + +<p>"H'm," grunted Old Nick. "Very funny...." +and he stalked on his way.</p> + +<p>Nachmann and Prois were busy moving the sofas +back against the wall, and restoring the card-table to +its former place.</p> + +<p>"Here, what do you think you're doing?" shouted +Nickelsen from the doorway.</p> + +<p>"Salvage Corps, getting ready for a little party," +said the Warden dryly.</p> + +<p>That evening Old Nick's little circle of friends +assembled at his house. Cards and the tray of glasses +were laid out as in the old days. The host, in his +old brown dressing-gown, sat with his slippered feet +up on the table, and puffed at his long-stemmed pipe.</p> + +<p>"Well, you may think yourself lucky to have got +out of that as you did," said Nachmann, touching Old +Nick's glass with his own.</p> + +<p>"I can't think what made her go off like that, all +of a sudden," said Old Nick, almost wistfully.</p> + +<p>"You can thank Peter Oiland for that," said Thor +Smith.</p> + +<p>"Peter Oiland?"</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_237" id="Page_237" title="[Pg 237]"></a> +"Yes, it was he that got her away. What about +those letters you sent her, Oiland? What did you +say in them?"</p> + +<p>"H'm," said Oiland, with a serious air. "My dear +friends, it is ill jesting with affairs of the heart. Emilie +Rantzau's secret is locked for ever in my breast." +And he gazed reflectively into his glass as he stirred +his grog.</p> + +<p>"How did you manage to get them sent from Christiania?"</p> + +<p>"Posted them myself when I was in with Sukkestad, +my respected father-in-law to be, buying furniture."</p> + +<p>"But the photo, and Mrs. Moller's, and all that?"</p> + +<p>"Well, the photo was one Maria Sukkestad gave me +last year of her beloved spouse—taken years ago, when +they were engaged."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Peter, you're a marvel! But suppose she'd +recognised him?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly think she could," said Oiland dryly.</p> + +<p>"But how did you know about Mrs. Moller's?"</p> + +<p>"She told Mrs. Jansen she'd stayed there, and I +heard about it after. But all that was easy enough. +The worst thing was, it came so expensive—£50 is a +lot of money," and he sighed.</p> + +<p>"£50?" said Nickelsen, looking up sharply. "What +do you mean?"</p> + +<p>Thor Smith rapped his glass, and said with mock +solemnity:</p> + +<p>"Our efforts in the cause of freedom having met +with the success they deserve, we naturally look to +you, as the intended victim, for reimbursement of all +costs incurred in effecting your deliverance. And we +hope after this you'll have the sense to know when +you're well off, and not go running your head into a<a class="pagenum" name="Page_238" id="Page_238" title="[Pg 238]"></a> +noose again, old man. Three cheers for Old Nick—hurrah!"</p> + +<p>It was a festive evening, culminating in a song +written specially for the occasion:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iminus">"Our dear Old Nick is a queer old stick,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And a bachelor gay was he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the widow's charms occasioned alarms,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the rest of the Company.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">This will never do, said we,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We must settle affairs with she,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So we played for Old Nick, and we won the trick,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And a bachelor still is he—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Give it with three times three—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bachelor gay, and we hope he may<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Continue so to be!"<br /></span> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_239" id="Page_239" title="[Pg 239]"></a></div></div> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII<br /> +THE <i>EVA MARIA</i></h2> + + +<p>"Close on seven-and-thirty years now since I +came aboard as skipper of the <i>Eva Maria</i>, +and you can understand, Nils Petter, it's a +bit queer like for me to be handing her over now to +anyone else," said old Bernt Jorgensen solemnly. His +brother, Nils Petter, listened respectfully.</p> + +<p>"Never a thing gone wrong. I've always been able +to reckon out exactly what the four trips to Scotland +and Holland each summer brought in; but then, as you +know, Nils Petter, I didn't go dangling about on shore +with the other skippers, throwing money away on +whisky and such-like trash."</p> + +<p>"No, you've always been a steady one," said Nils +Petter quietly.</p> + +<p>"Ay, steady it is, and steady it's got to be, and +keep a proper account of everything. In winter, when +I was at home with the mother, I'd always go through +all expenses I'd had the summer past; that way I +could keep an eye on every little thing."</p> + +<p>"Ay, you've been careful enough about little things, +that's true. I remember that tar bucket we threw +overboard once. We never heard the last of it all +that winter."</p> + +<p>"It's just that very thing, Nils Petter, that I've got<a class="pagenum" name="Page_240" id="Page_240" title="[Pg 240]"></a> +to thank for having a bit laid by, or anyhow, the <i>Eva +Maria's</i> free of debt, and that's all I ask." Old Bernt +was not anxious to go into details as to the nice little +sum he had laid up with Van Hegel in Amsterdam, +not to speak of the little private banking account that +had been growing so steadily for years.</p> + +<p>"Not but that I've need enough to earn a little +more," he went on; "but I've made up my mind +now to give up the sea, though it's hard to leave the +old <i>Eva Maria</i> that's served me so well."</p> + +<p>Bernt Jorgensen had been very doubtful about +handing over the vessel to Nils Petter's command. +Nils was a good seaman enough, but with one serious +failing: he invariably ran riot when he got ashore, +and there was no holding him.</p> + +<p>Still, Nils Petter was his only brother, and perhaps +when he found himself skipper he would come to feel +the responsibility of his position, and improve accordingly. +Anyhow, one could but try it.</p> + +<p>Nils Petter stood watching his brother attentively, +as the latter solemnly concluded: "Well, you're +skipper of the <i>Eva Maria</i> from now on, Nils Petter, and +I hope and trust you'll bear in mind the duty you owe +to God and your owners."</p> + +<p>Nils Petter grasped his brother's hand and shook +it so heartily that Bernt could feel it for days—it was +at any rate a reminder that Nils Petter had serious +intentions of reforming.</p> + +<p>But Nils Petter was the happy man! First of all, +he had to go ashore and tell the good news to his old +friend, Trina Thoresen, who, it may be noted, had +been one of his former sweethearts. She had married +Thoresen as the only means of avoiding a scandal, +and murmured resignedly as she did so: "Ah, well,<a class="pagenum" name="Page_241" id="Page_241" title="[Pg 241]"></a> +it can't be helped. Nils Petter can't marry us all, +poor fellow!"</p> + +<p>Nils Petter's large, round face was one comprehensive +smile, and his huge fists all but crushed the life out +of Schoolmaster Pedersen, who was impudent enough +to offer his hand in congratulation. "Skipper!" +said Nils Petter. "Captain, you mean—he—he!" +and he laughed till the houses echoed half-way up the +street, and Mrs. Pedersen looked out of the window +to see what all the noise was about.</p> + +<p>Nils Petter was undoubtedly the most popular +character in the town; he was intimate with every +one, regardless of sex or social standing.</p> + +<p>"A cheery, good-natured soul," was the general +estimate of Nils Petter—somewhat too cheery, perhaps, +at times; but never so much so that he abused his +gigantic strength, of which wonderful stories were +told. At any rate it took a great deal to move him +to anger.</p> + +<p>He was in constant difficulties about money, for +as often as he had any to spare, he would give it away +or lend it. Now and again, when especially hard up, +he would apply to his "rich brother" as he called +him, and never failed to receive assistance, together +with a long sermon on the evils of extravagance, +which he listened to most penitently, but the meaning +of which he had never to this day been able to realise +himself.</p> + +<p>Well, now we shall see how he got on as officer in +command of the <i>Eva Maria</i>, <i>vice</i> that careful old +model of a skipper, Bernt Jorgensen. The vessel +was fixed for Dundee, with a cargo of battens from +Drammen, and Bernt had himself seen to everything +in the matter of stores and provisions, etc., according<a class="pagenum" name="Page_242" id="Page_242" title="[Pg 242]"></a> +to the old régime. Nils Petter certainly found the +supplies of meat and drink on board a trifle scanty—drink, +especially so. Six bottles of fruit syrup—h'm. +Nils Petter thought he might at least make a +cautious suggestion. "Say, Brother Bernt, you're +sure you haven't forgotten anything. Fresh meat, +for instance, and a bottle or so of spirits?"</p> + +<p>"Never has been spirits on board the <i>Eva Maria</i>," +answered Bernt shortly. And Nils Petter was obliged +to sail with fruit syrup instead.</p> + +<p>Just outside Horten, however, they were becalmed, +and the <i>Eva Maria</i> anchored up accordingly.</p> + +<p>"D'you know this place at all, Ola?" said Nils +Petter to his old friend Ola Simonsen, the boatswain, +as they got the anchor down.</p> + +<p>"Surely, Captain—know it? Why, I was here with +the old <i>Desideria</i> serving my time."</p> + +<p>"Right you are, then. We'll get out the boat and +go on shore first for a look round."</p> + +<p>It was late that night when they returned, Nils +Petter at the oars, and Ola sleeping the sleep of the +just in the bottom of the boat. Nils Petter was +singing and laughing so he could be heard half a mile +off. After considerable effort he managed to hoist +the boatswain over the vessel's side, the whole crew +laughing uproariously, including Nils Petter himself, +who was quite pleased with the whole adventure, and +cared not a jot for discipline and his dignity as skipper.</p> + +<p>Ola Simonsen having been safely deposited on board, +Nils Petter handed up a number of items in addition. +One large joint of beef, six pork sausages, one ham, +one case of tinned provisions, and one marked significantly, +"Glass: with care."</p> + +<p>Towards morning a light, northerly breeze sprang<a class="pagenum" name="Page_243" id="Page_243" title="[Pg 243]"></a> +up, and they weighed anchor again. Nils Petter, +instead of pacing the after-part with his hands behind +his back, as became the dignity of a captain, came +forward and took up his post beside the windlass, +sent the rest of the crew briskly about their business, +and fell to singing with the full force of his lungs, till +the agent on the quay went in for his glasses to see +what was happening.</p> + +<p>Nils Petter was the very opposite of his brother, +who would make a whole voyage without saying a +word to his crew except to give the necessary orders. +Nils Petter, on the other hand, chatted with the men +and lent a hand with the work like any ordinary +seaman. Altogether, the relations between captain +and crew were such as would have been thoroughly +pleasant and cordial ashore.</p> + +<p>There were beefsteaks for dinner as long as the beef +lasted out, and Nils Petter shared in brotherly fashion +with the rest—there was no distinction of rank on +board in that respect; it was an ideal socialistic +Utopia!</p> + +<p>The case marked "Glass: with care" was opened, +and each helped himself at will, till only the straw +packing remained. It was a cheery, comfortable life +on board, as all agreed, not least Nils Petter, who +laughed and sang the whole day long. No one had +ever dreamed of such a state of things on board the +<i>Eva Maria</i>, least of all Bernt Jorgensen, who was +fortunately in ignorance of the idyllic conditions now +prevailing in his beloved ship.</p> + +<p>The only occasion throughout the voyage when any +real dissension arose between Nils Petter and his crew +was when opening one of the tins brought on board +at Horten. The contents defied identification despite<a class="pagenum" name="Page_244" id="Page_244" title="[Pg 244]"></a> +the most careful scrutiny. The label certainly said +"Russian Caviare," but Nils Petter and the rest were +none the wiser for that. A general council was accordingly +held, with as much solemnity as if the lives of all +were in peril on the sea.</p> + +<p>"I've a sort of idea the man in the shop said eat it +raw," ventured Nils Petter.</p> + +<p>Ola Simonsen was reckless enough to try.</p> + +<p>"Ugh—pugh—urrrgh!" he spluttered. "Of all +the...."</p> + +<p>"Itsch—hitch—huh!" said Thoresen, the mate. +"Better trying cooking it, I think." (This Thoresen, +by the way, was the husband of Trina Thoresen, before +mentioned, and a good friend of Nils Petter, who, in +moments of exaltation would call him brother-in-law, +which Thoresen never seemed to mind in the least.)</p> + +<p>While the tin of caviare was under discussion, all on +board, from the ship's boy to the captain, were +assembled in the forecastle, intent on the matter in +hand. So much so, indeed, that the <i>Eva Maria</i>, then +left to her own devices, sailed slap into a schooner +laden with coal, that was rude enough to get in her +way.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, no great damage was done beyond +carrying away the schooner's jib-boom, and matters +were settled amicably with the schooner's captain, +whom Nils Petter presented with an odd spar he +happened to have on deck and the six bottles of fruit +syrup, which he was only too pleased to get rid of. +And the <i>Eva Maria</i> continued her course in the same +cheerful spirit as heretofore.</p> + +<p>Nils Petter's first exploit on arriving at Dundee was +to send the harbour-master headlong into the dock, +whence he was with difficulty dragged out. He got<a class="pagenum" name="Page_245" id="Page_245" title="[Pg 245]"></a> +off with a fine of £20, which was entered in the ship's +accounts as "unforeseen expenses."</p> + +<p>Those on board found themselves comfortable +enough, the skipper being for the most part ashore. +This, however, was hardly fortunate for the owner, +as Nils Petter's shore-going disbursements were by +no means inconsiderable, including, as they did, little +occasional extras, such as £2, 10s. for a plate-glass +window in the bar of the "Duck and Acid-drop," +through which aforesaid window Nils had propelled +a young gentleman whom he accused of throwing +orange-peel.</p> + +<p>At last the <i>Eva Maria</i> was clear of Dundee, and +after Nils Petter had provisioned her according to his +lights—which ranged from fresh meat to ginger-beer +and double stout—there remained of the freight money +just on £7. This he considered was not worth sending +home, and invested it therefore in a cask of good +Scotch whisky, thinking to gladden his brother therewith +on his return.</p> + +<p>Nils Petter and the <i>Eva Maria</i> then proceeded +without further adventure on their homeward way, +arriving in the best of trim eight days after.</p> + +<p>The first thing to do was to go up to the owners +and report. Nils Petter was already in the boat, with +the whisky, and Ola Simonsen at the oars.</p> + +<p>"What the devil am I to say about the money?" +muttered Nils Petter to himself, as he sat in the stern. +For the first time since the voyage began he felt +troubled and out of spirits.</p> + +<p>"Fair good voyage it's been, Captain," said Ola, +resting on his oars.</p> + +<p>"Ay, fair good voyage is all very well, but the +money, Ola, what about that?"</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_246" id="Page_246" title="[Pg 246]"></a> +Ola lifted his cap and scratched his head. "Why, +you haven't left it behind, then, Captain, or what?"</p> + +<p>"Why, it's like this, Ola; there's expenses, you +know, on a voyage—oh, but it's no good trying that +on; he knows all about it himself. H'm ... I wish +to goodness I could think of something."</p> + +<p>Nils Petter frowned, and looked across at the cask +of whisky. Ola, noticing the direction of his glance, +observed consolingly that it ought to be a welcome +present. "Ay, if that was all," said Nils Petter, +"but the beggar's a teetotaller."</p> + +<p>They landed at the quay. Nils Petter and Ola got +the cask ashore, and rolled it together over to Bernt +Jorgensen's house. The owner was out in the garden, +eating cherries with the parson, who had come to call.</p> + +<p>At sight of the latter, Nils Petter gave Ola a nudge, +and ordered him to take the cask round the back way, +while he himself walked solemnly up to his brother +and saluted.</p> + +<p>"You've made a quick voyage," said Bernt Jorgensen, +his voice trembling a little. "I'd been expecting +to hear from you by letter before now, though." And +he looked up sternly.</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes, I suppose ... you're thinking of the +freight," said Nils Petter, inwardly deciding that it +might be just as well to get it over at once, especially +now the parson was here.</p> + +<p>"It was always my way to send home the freight +money as soon as I'd drawn it," said Bernt Jorgensen +quietly.</p> + +<p>"Expenses come terribly heavy in Dundee just +now," said Nils Petter. "And—and—well, it's hard +to make ends meet anyhow these times."</p> + +<p>Here an unexpected reinforcement came to his aid.<a class="pagenum" name="Page_247" id="Page_247" title="[Pg 247]"></a> +The parson nodded, and observed that he heard the +same thing on all sides; hard times for shipping trade +just now. The parson, indeed, never heard anything +else, as his parishioners invariably told him the same +story, as a sort of delicate excuse for the smallness of +their contribution.</p> + +<p>When the brothers were alone, Nils Petter had to +come out with the truth, that all he had to show for +the trip was one cask of whisky. "That I brought +home, meaning all for the best, Bernt, and thinking +£7 wasn't worth sending."</p> + +<p>Bernt, however, was of a different opinion, and +delivered a lengthy reprimand, ending up with the +words, "The <i>Eva Maria's</i> never made a voyage like +that before. Ah, Nils Petter, I'm afraid you're the +prodigal son."</p> + +<p>Nils Petter bowed his head humbly, but reflected +inwardly that if all the prodigal sons had been as +comfortably off on their travels as he had on that +voyage, they wouldn't have been so badly off after all.</p> + +<p>As for the cask of whisky, Nils Petter was ordered +to drive in with it to Drammen and sell it there, which +he did, after first privately drawing off six bottles and +supplying the deficiency with water.</p> + +<p>If Bernt Jorgensen had had his doubts the first time +Nils Petter went on board the <i>Eva Maria</i> as skipper, +his misgivings now were naturally increased a thousand-fold. +Nils Petter, however, promised faithfully to +reform, and send home a thumping remittance, if only +he might be allowed to make one more voyage. And +in the end, Bernt, with brotherly affection, let him +have his way.</p> + +<p>This time the charter was for Niewendiep, or +"Nyndyp," as it was generally called, which port<a class="pagenum" name="Page_248" id="Page_248" title="[Pg 248]"></a> +Bernt knew inside and out, as he said, so that Nils +Petter could not palm off any fairy-tales about it.</p> + +<p>The voyage was as quick as the preceding one, and, +less than four weeks from sailing, Nils Petter appeared +once more rowing in to the quay. This time, however, +he brought with him, not a cask of whisky, but "something +altogether different"—in honour of which the +<i>Eva Maria</i> was decked out with all the bunting on +board.</p> + +<p>Bernt Jorgensen had come down himself to the +waterside on seeing the vessel so beflagged, as it had +not been since the day of his own wedding, thirty +years before. He stood shading his eyes with one +hand, as he watched Nils Petter in the boat coming +in. "What on earth was that he had got in the +stern? Something all tied about with fluttering red +ribbons."</p> + +<p>"Hey, brother!" hailed Nils Petter joyfully, standing +up in the boat. "Here's a remittance, if you +like!" And he pointed to a buxom young woman +who sat nodding and smiling at his side. Without +undue ceremony he hoisted the lady by one arm up +on to the quay, and the pair stood facing Bernt, who +stared speechlessly from one to the other.</p> + +<p>"Here's your brother-in-law, my dear," said Nils +Petter in a dialect presumably meant for Dutch, +nudging the fair one with his knee in a part where +Hollanders are generally supposed to be well upholstered. +The impetus sent her flying into the arms +of Bernt, who extricated himself humidly.</p> + +<p>"Her name's Jantjedina van Groot, my good and +faithful wife," Nils Petter explained. Bernt Jorgensen, +who had not yet recovered from his astonishment, +only grunted again and again: "H'm—h'm——" and<a class="pagenum" name="Page_249" id="Page_249" title="[Pg 249]"></a> +made haste towards home, followed by Nils Petter +and his bride.</p> + +<p>This time nothing was said about the freight money, +which was just as well for all concerned, seeing it had +all been spent in the purchase of various household +goods and extra provisions with which to celebrate +the occasion. Nils Petter's new relations in Holland, +too, had had to be treated in hospitable fashion—which +was just as well for them, since he never called +there again!</p> + +<p>Bernt Jorgensen decided that it would be more +economical to pension off Nils Petter, and get a +skipper of the old school to take over the <i>Eva Maria</i>; +after which there was rarely any trouble about the +freight money.</p> + +<p>"Ah, but expenses now aren't what they were in +my time," Nils Petter would say.</p> + +<p>Which, in one sense, was perfectly true.</p> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_250" id="Page_250" title="[Pg 250]"></a></p> +<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII<br /> +THE <i>HENRIK IBSEN</i></h2> + + +<p>"Well, and what are you doing with that brat +of yours, <i lang="no">Birkebeineren</i>," asked Hansen +the shipbroker, one day, meeting Soren +Braaten in the street. "Got any freight yet?"</p> + +<p>"No, worse luck. These wretched steamers take +all there is. I can't see what's the good of steam anyway<span class="corr" title="added: .">.</span> +We got along all right without it before, but +it's all different now. Doesn't give a poor man time +to breathe."</p> + +<p>"Yes, the old windjammers are rather out of it +now," Hansen agreed.</p> + +<p>"Going to rack and ruin, as far as I can see. And +what's the sense of all this hurry and skurry, when +all's said and done. It's against nature, that's what +I say. When I think how we used to get along in the +old days. Why, I never heard but that the merchants +over in England and Holland were pleased enough +with the cargoes when they got there, whether we'd +been a fortnight or a month on the way, and we made +a decent living out of it and so did they. But now? +As soon as a steamer comes along, it's all fuss +and excitement and bother and complaint all +round."</p> + +<p>"You ought to see and get hold of a steamboat<a class="pagenum" name="Page_251" id="Page_251" title="[Pg 251]"></a> +yourself, Soren; we mustn't be behindhand with everything, +you know. Why, up in Drammen now, they've +seven or eight of them already."</p> + +<p>"Thank you for nothing. Let them buy steamers +that cares to; it won't be Soren Braaten, though."</p> + +<p>And Soren walked homeward, inwardly anathematising +the inventor of steam, who might have found a +better use for his time than causing all that trouble +to his fellow-men.</p> + +<p>Cilia was in the kitchen when he came in; the +first thing she asked was whether he had got a charter +for <i lang="no">Birkebeineren</i>.</p> + +<p>The vessel had been lying in Christiania now for +nearly a month; such a thing had never happened +before.</p> + +<p>Remittances? Alas, these had so dwindled of late +as to be almost microscopic. Things were looking +gloomy all round.</p> + +<p>Cilia sat by the fire looking thoughtfully into the +blaze. She dropped her knitting, and stuck the odd +needle into her hair, that was fastened in a coil at the +back of her head. The wool rolled to the floor, but +when Soren stooped to pick it up, she ordered him +sharply to leave it alone. There was something in +her voice that startled Soren. Ever since the battle +royal of a few years back, she had been quiet and +sensible, and things had gone on between them as +smoothly as could be wished.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she rose to her feet, and stood with one +hand on her hip, the other holding the bench.</p> + +<p>"Soren, it's no good; we can't go on like this any +longer."</p> + +<p>Soren gave a start; he could feel there was thunder +in the air.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_252" id="Page_252" title="[Pg 252]"></a> +"We'll have to buy a steamer. Sailing-ships are +out of date."</p> + +<p>"What's that you say, mother? We two old +folks to go fussing about with steam? Nay, I'd +rather stick to the old planks till they rot!"</p> + +<p>But Cilia went on firmly, altogether unmoved. +"We've a decent bit of money in the bank, and shares +in other things besides, but the interest's not what it +might be, and I don't see the sense of letting other +people take all the profits that's to be made out of +shipping, while we that's nearest at hand are left +behind."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose they're overdone with profits, +these here steamboats, when it comes to the point," +grumbled Soren. And no more was said about the +matter for that day.</p> + +<p>But Cilia pondered and speculated still; she read +the shipping papers and the shipbrokers' circulars +as earnestly as she studied lesson and collect on +Sundays.</p> + +<p>She found a valuable ally, too, in her son-in-law, +Skipper Abrahamsen, who was tired of the "old +hulk," as he called <i lang="no">Birkebeineren</i>, and longed to be +captain of a steamer himself. Fortunately, Soren +never heard a word of this, or it would have been +ill both for Cilia and Abrahamsen, for he could not +bear to hear a word in dispraise of his beloved ship.</p> + +<p>Malvina, of course, sided with her husband and her +mother, and their united efforts were daily brought to +bear upon Soren, till at last he grew so tired of hearing +about "that steamboat of ours," that he fled out +of the house, and went round to call on Warden Prois +whenever the talk turned that way.</p> + +<p>There was a little attic in the Braaten's house<a class="pagenum" name="Page_253" id="Page_253" title="[Pg 253]"></a> +that had never been used for anything but a box-room; +this was now cleared in secret by Cilia and +Malvina, and then the three conspirators held meetings +and discussions. Abrahamsen and Cilia had quietly +made inquiries of various shipbuilding concerns, and +received a mass of estimates and plans.</p> + +<p>Cilia studied the question of engines till her brain +was going twelve knots easy. Compound and triple +expansion, boiler plate, and cylinder stroke—her mind +was busy with every detail; for Cilia was not one to +do things by halves when once she started.</p> + +<p>Abrahamsen was examined and cross-examined till +the sweat poured off him; he, of course, had to appear +more or less familiar with all these things, since he +aspired to command a steamer.</p> + +<p>Malvina sat silent, looking on with wide eyes and +taking it all in; she was looking forward to a free +passage on a real steamboat for herself.</p> + +<p>Soren wondered a little what they could be up to +in the attic, but, being comfortable enough below with +a glass of grog and the <i>Shipping Gazette</i>, he let them +stay there as long as they pleased. One evening, +however, it struck him they were at it a good long +time; it was past eleven, and no sign of their coming +down yet. Accordingly, he stole up quietly in his +stocking feet, and looked through the keyhole. What +he saw did not improve his temper. On a table in +the middle of the room was the smartest little steamer +one could imagine. Red bottom, sides black above, +with a gold streak, the rudder and two masts sloping +a little aft, flag at fore and maintop—a sight to see. +Cilia, Malvina and Abrahamsen stood round examining +the model with glee.</p> + +<p>Soren was about to retire, but stumbled over an old<a class="pagenum" name="Page_254" id="Page_254" title="[Pg 254]"></a> +trunk left outside, and fell head over heels into the +room among the others. There was an awkward +pause, until Cilia broke the silence by asking Soren: +"What do you think of that—isn't she a beauty?" +pointing to the model as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, she's a handsome boat enough," said +Soren, rubbing his shins.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, we <em>must</em> have a steamer of our own," +said Malvina, coming up and clinging to his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Why, child, what are you doing here? I thought +you'd have had enough to do at home with the boy," +he said softly.</p> + +<p>"It's the steamer we wanted to see. Mother thinks +we could manage all right with compound, but +Abrahamsen says it'll have to be triplets."</p> + +<p>"Triplets, forbid!" muttered Abrahamsen.</p> + +<p>"Have it whatever way you please, for all I care," +said Soren. And he stumped off downstairs.</p> + +<p>But the pressure from all sides was too much. +Soren had to give way at last, and sign a formal document +inviting subscriptions for shares in "a modern, +up-to-date steamship."</p> + +<p>S. Braaten having entered his name for fifty shares +at £50, it was hoped that the remainder would +be subscribed by tradesfolk in the town. Cilia had +laid stress on the importance of appealing to local +patriotism, and the circular accordingly pointed out +that "in neighbouring towns it has already been +wisely recognised that the shipping of the future will +be steam, and that the day of the sailing vessel is past; +our town alone, though it has always occupied a leading +position in the shipping world, is sadly behindhand in +this respect, counting as <a class="corr" name="TC_8" id="TC_8" title="get">yet</a> not a single steamer. It +is in order to meet this long-felt want"—etc.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_255" id="Page_255" title="[Pg 255]"></a> +The appeal to the citizens of Strandvik was not in +vain. A few days later the necessary share capital +was subscribed.</p> + +<p>Soren Braaten, however, was ill at ease; it had gone +against the grain to sign a document declaring that +the day of the sailing vessel was past, and he would +have liked to add an explanatory note to the effect +that he had signed under protest. There was no help +for it, however; for peace and quietness' sake he had +to give way.</p> + +<p>At the preliminary general meeting, Soren was +elected Managing Director of the Company, despite his +most energetic protests.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>It was a fine sunny day when the <i>Henrik Ibsen</i> was +due to appear. The name had been chosen at the +suggestion of Lawyer Nickelsen, who explained it as +fitting for a trading vessel, from the fact that the +poet in question was expert at moving in dark waters +and foggy regions, and made a very good living out +of it; he hoped that the steamer would do likewise.</p> + +<p>Flags were in evidence all over the town, and the +quay was crowded. Never had there been such excitement +in Strandvik since the day of the Royal +visit.</p> + +<p>Almost every other man was a shareholder; even +Klementsen the parish clerk and Pedersen the +schoolmaster had, despite their widely differing +political views, gone halves together in a share.</p> + +<p>"From what I see in the papers about oil freights +from New York and corn freights from the Black Sea, +the vessel ought to pay at least twenty per cent," said +Pedersen, with an air of superior wisdom. And he +brought out a big sheet of paper covered with calculations<a class="pagenum" name="Page_256" id="Page_256" title="[Pg 256]"></a> +in English pounds, shillings and pence, which +had taken him all the afternoon to work out.</p> + +<p>Klementsen had to put on his spectacles and study +the figures earnestly; which done, the two newly +pledged shipowners solemnly declared "it looks like +very good business."</p> + +<p>Nachmann was also a shareholder, but had only +taken up his holding on condition that he should be +purveyor of wines to the ship, "a smart, round vessel +like that must get things from a decent firm." He +had been busy to-day with a whole cart-load of various +wines for the dinner, which the shareholders were to +have on board during the trial trip.</p> + +<p>Away in the harbour lay the <i>Apollo</i>, <i>Eva Maria</i>, +and <i lang="no">Birkebeineren</i>; they had had no charters this +year. The old craft looked heavy and stout as they +lay in the sweltering sun, with pitch oozing from their +seams like black tears. It almost looked as if they +were weeping at having to lie idle, instead of ploughing +through the good salt waters off Lindemor or the +Dogger.</p> + +<p>Soren Braaten, rowing out over the fjord to meet +the steamer, passed close by his old ship <i lang="no">Birkebeineren</i>. +He cast a loving glance at the dear old piece of timber, +and wished he had accepted any freight, however +poor, so he had kept out of all this new-fangled +business with engine-power and steam. He felt like +a traitor to his class, and to all the old things he loved.</p> + +<p>He passed the <i>Eva Maria</i>, and there was Bernt +Jorgensen standing aft. Bernt had declined to take +up shares in the steamer; on the contrary, he had +argued earnestly against the project, declaring that +Strandvik owed too much to the old sailing ships not +to hold by them to the last.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_257" id="Page_257" title="[Pg 257]"></a> +"Aren't you coming on board the steamer?" cried +Soren as he came within hail.</p> + +<p>"No, thankye, I've no mind for it. I'm better +where I am," answered Bernt, and, crossing over, sat +down on the half-deck.</p> + +<p>He hoisted his flag with the rest, though he felt +little inclined to; but it would look strange if the +<i>Eva Maria</i> were the only one to refrain. But the +bunting was only half-way up when the halliards +broke, and the flag remained at half-mast.</p> + +<p>Bernt felt it was something of an ill-omen. He went +into his cabin, but through the porthole he could see +the <i>Henrik Ibsen</i> come gliding into the harbour amid +general salutation.</p> + +<p>The steamer was bright with brass work and new +paint; the great gilt letters of her name at the stern +shone over the water. On the bridge stood Skipper +Abrahamsen, with three gold bands on his cap, and +all the crew were in uniform—blue jerseys, with the +name worked in red.</p> + +<p>Bernt Jorgensen looked round his own cabin; the +worn, yellow-painted walls, the square of ragged +canvas that did duty as a tablecloth, the sofa with its +old cracked covering of American cloth—it was all +poor enough, but would he change with the dandified +newcomer over yonder?</p> + +<p>He struck his fist on the table. "Let's see if he's +as smart at earning money as you've been, <i>Eva Maria</i>. +It'll take him all his time, I fancy."</p> + +<p>The cheering sounded across the water, as he sat +bowed over the table with his head in his arms, thinking +of old times, from the day he first went to sea +with Uncle Gjermundsen, on board the <i>Stjerna</i>. Three +shirts, a pair of canvas breeches, a straw-stuffed mattress<a class="pagenum" name="Page_258" id="Page_258" title="[Pg 258]"></a> +and a rug were all his kit. But what a clipper she was +in those days, with her twelve knots close hauled. And +Uncle Gjermundsen was the man to get the best out +of her too. No gold-braided cap for him, and not +much of a man to look at, little, dry and crooked-backed +as he was; but when he went overboard with a line +that black November night to save the crew of an +English brig on the reef and sinking, there was many +an upstanding man might have been proud to know +him. But he and his ship were gone now, and both +the same way. He stood by his ship too long, last +man on his own deck he would be, and so the rest were +saved and he went down. But it was all in the papers +about it, the speech that was made in his honour at +the Seamen's Union, and the verse:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iminus">"He stood alone on the sinking wreck,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A sailor fearless and bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he knew that the last to leave the deck,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Comes first when all is told."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And what lads they were on board the <i>Stjerna</i>, tarry +and weather-stained, but the harder it blew the smarter +they went about it. There was Nils Sturika, that +Christmas Eve off Jomfruland, when the pilot was to +come aboard. The whole ship was like a lump of ice, +and the fore-rigging ready to go by the board, with +the lee shrouds and backstays torn away. They had +to make the signal, but the foretop halliards were +gone. And then it was Nils Sturika went up the topgallant +shrouds by his hands, with the flag in his teeth, +and lashed it fast to the pole.</p> + +<p>But they got the pilot, and made in to Risorbank +just in time.</p> + +<p>Nobody shouted hurrah for Nils, and a stiff nip of<a class="pagenum" name="Page_259" id="Page_259" title="[Pg 259]"></a> +grog was what he got when he came down; instead of +a medal with ribbon and all that he'd maybe get +nowadays.</p> + +<p>Bernt Jorgensen was roused from his meditation +by the sound of the salute on board the <i>Henrik Ibsen</i>. +He rose and went up on deck to see what was going +on. The shareholders, with wives and children, +nephews and nieces and relatives generally, were +making a tour of the vessel.</p> + +<p>Cilia was down in the saloon, seated in state on a red +plush sofa. She did not feel altogether comfortable, +to tell the truth, having acquired a horror of showy +furniture since her own escapade in that direction. +But she was proud to feel that "we" had achieved +the distinction of giving Strandvik its first steamer.</p> + +<p>The trial trip was to take place while dinner was +being served in the saloon.</p> + +<p>The <i>Henrik Ibsen</i> steamed along the fjord, beflagged +from deck to top, and greeted with cheers from all +along the waterside; not a citizen of Strandvik but +felt a thrill of pride in his citizenship that day.</p> + +<p>The dinner was a most festive affair. The conversation +ran gaily on the topic of freights and steamship +traffic. Old Klementsen already saw in his mind's +eye a whole fleet of Strandvik steamers putting out +to sea with flags flying, and coming home laden deep +with gold to the beloved little town.</p> + +<p>Justice Heidt, guest of honour in his capacity as +principal representative of local authority, made a +speech, in which he referred to "Strandvik's first steamship, +a tangible witness to the high degree of initiative +among our business men. The vessel has been named +after a great poet, and it is our hope that it will, like +its famous namesake, add to our country's credit and<a class="pagenum" name="Page_260" id="Page_260" title="[Pg 260]"></a> +renown in distant lands. Good luck and prosperity +to the <i>Henrik Ibsen</i>." The toast was received with +hearty cheers from all.</p> + +<p>Someone proposed the health of Soren Braaten, as +leader in the enterprise, and Cilia's too, as the guiding +spirit of the undertaking; then the captain's health +was drunk, and many more.</p> + +<p>All were excited to a high pitch of enthusiasm. +Old Klementsen, delighted to feel himself a shipowner, +sat in a corner with a magnum of champagne before +him, delivered an oration on the subject of time-charter +on the China coast; he had read an article +on the subject in a paper, and was greatly impressed +by the same.</p> + +<p>"Beautifully steady, isn't she?" said Cilia to her +husband. Hardly had she spoken, however, when, "Brrr—drrrrum—drrrum—drrrum"—the +passengers were +thrown headlong in all directions, and Cilia herself was +flung into the arms of Justice Heidt, the two striking +their heads together with a force that made both dizzy +for the moment.</p> + +<p>Bottles, glasses and plates were scattered about, +adding to the general confusion.</p> + +<p>So violent was the shock that many thought the +boiler had burst, and something approaching panic +prevailed.</p> + +<p>Schoolmaster Pedersen was screaming like a maniac. +In his anxiety to see what was happening, he had thrust +his head through one of the portholes, and could not +get it back despite his utmost efforts. Everyone else +was too much occupied to help him, and there he stood, +unable to move.</p> + +<p>The rest of the party hurried up on deck, all save +Klementsen, who, having emptied his magnum, felt<a class="pagenum" name="Page_261" id="Page_261" title="[Pg 261]"></a> +himself unable to get up the companion, and wisely +refrained from making the attempt.</p> + +<p>The <i>Henrik Ibsen</i> had struck on a sunken reef. The +excitement of the occasion, together with the generous +good cheer, had had their effect on the crew, who had +not paid much heed to their course, with the result +that the vessel had taken her own, until brought up +all standing by the unexpected obstacle.</p> + +<p>The bow had run right on the shelf of rock, and +things looked distinctly unpleasant, until Soren Braaten +explained that "unfortunately" there was shallow +water on all sides, when the company began to feel +somewhat easier in their minds.</p> + +<p>Cilia's head was treated with vinegar bandages, +and Justice Heidt's nose bound up as if in sympathy +with the damage inside. But the festive spirit among +the shareholders generally was at a low ebb, and anyone +taking advantage of the moment might have +bought shares then at well below par.</p> + +<p>Aha, there is a tug already, the <i lang="no">Storegut</i>; things +looked brighter in a moment, perhaps they might +get off at once. But then came the question, had she +sprung a leak? No; sound as a bell. A proper sort +of steamer this.</p> + +<p>A hawser was passed from the tug, then full speed +astern—Hurrah—she's moving! The Henrik Ibsen +drew slowly off the reef and was soon clear once more. +The passengers brightened up, and soon the steamer +was on her way back to Strandvik, the tug standing +by in case of need.</p> + +<p>Nachmann's supply of champagne was inexhaustible, +and Thor Smith got on his feet with another +speech for "the splendid vessel which has stood the +test so manfully to-day. The <i>Henrik Ibsen</i> was not<a class="pagenum" name="Page_262" id="Page_262" title="[Pg 262]"></a> +built for picnic voyages over sunny seas; no, she had +shown what she could do and borne it magnificently." +Cheers for the <i>Henrik Ibsen</i> and general acclamation.</p> + +<p>Then the whole company joined in the song:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="iminus">"And what though I ran my ship aground,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It was grand to sail the seas!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>At last the <i>Henrik Ibsen</i> set out on a real voyage in +earnest, and Soren Braaten was glad enough; he felt +in need of rest after all he had been through.</p> + +<p>He told Cilia, indeed, that he would rather go sailing +in the Arctic than have it all to do over again. No, +this steamship business was a trial.</p> + +<p>Hardly had Soren settled down to his well-earned +rest, when, only four days after the vessel had sailed, +came a telegram from Hull announcing her arrival +and awaiting orders. That meant wiring off at once +to the brokers in Drammen and Christiania asking +for freights. The telegraph, indeed, was kept so +busy, that old Anders the messenger declared the +wretched steamboat gave more work than anyone +had a right to expect. Now and again, at weddings +and suchlike, it was only natural to have a few extra +telegrams going and coming; but, then, he would +take them round in bundles at a time, and be handsomely +treated into the bargain. Whereas this—why, +he'd hardly as much as got back from delivering +one wire to Soren Braaten, when a new one came in, +and off he'd have to go again. And a man couldn't +even stroll round with them at his ordinary pace; it +was always "urgent" or "express," or something +of the sort, that sent him hurrying off as if the wind +were at his heels.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_263" id="Page_263" title="[Pg 263]"></a> +And as for being handsomely treated! It was a +thankless task if ever there was one. When Anders +appeared with his seventh wire in one day, Soren almost +flew at him. "What, you there again with more of +those infernal telegram things!"</p> + +<p>Soren Braaten had had more telegrams the last fortnight +than in all his life before; and, worst of all, they +were so briefly worded, it took him all his time to +make out the sense. If things went on at this rate +he would very soon be wanting another cure at Sandefjord, +and this time in earnest.</p> + +<p>There was never any rest, this steamer of his flew +about at such a rate; just when you thought she was +in England she'd be somewhere down the Mediterranean +or the Black Sea. Soren said as much to his +old friend Skipper Sorensen, who answered: "Better +be careful, lad, or she'll run so fast one day she'll run +away with all your money." And Soren was anxious +about that very thing, for the remittance seemed to +him rather small in comparison with the length of +voyage involved.</p> + +<p>Soren found himself at last hopelessly at sea both as +to charters and accounts, and confided to Cilia one +day that he was going to throw up the whole thing; +as far as he was concerned, "the wretched boat can +manage itself."</p> + +<p>Cilia thought over the matter seriously. Her first +idea was to take over the chartering herself, but when +Soren began talking about freight from Wolgast to +Salonica, and Rouen to Montechristi, her geography +failed her.</p> + +<p>Fixing the old <i>Apollo</i> or <i lang="no">Birkebeineren</i> for voyages +in the Baltic or the North Sea was easy enough. +Cilia knew the name of every port from Pitea to<a class="pagenum" name="Page_264" id="Page_264" title="[Pg 264]"></a> +Vlaardingen, from London to Kirkwall, but outside +the English Channel she was lost.</p> + +<p>The end of it was that Soren went in to Christiania and +got a broker he knew there to take over the business, +and glad he was to get rid of it. The week after, he +went on board <i lang="no">Birkebeineren</i>, rigged her up, and sailed +with a cargo of planks to Amsterdam. Even though +he made little out of it beyond his keep, it was nicer +than sitting at home in a state of eternal worry about +the steamer.</p> + +<p>"It pays better than the savings bank, anyway," +said Cilia, when he grumbled.</p> + +<p>"Maybe; but it's a wearisome business all the +same, this steam chartering. And we've other things +to think about but what pays best."</p> + +<p>And off he went on board his own old-fashioned +<i lang="no">Birkebeineren</i>.<span class="corr" title='removed: "'></span></p> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_265" id="Page_265" title="[Pg 265]"></a></p> +<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX<br /> +NILS PETTER'S LEGACY</h2> + + +<p>The news ran like wildfire through the town: +Nils Petter Jorgensen had been left a million +gylden by his wife's uncle in Holland. It +was true as could be; Justice Heidt had had a letter +from the Queen to say so.</p> + +<p>"Jantje!" roared Nils Petter out into the wash-house, +where his wife stood in a cloud of steam and +soapsuds.</p> + +<p>"What is it, husband?" Jantje appeared in the +doorway, little, stout and smiling, with her sleeves +rolled up and the perspiration thick on her forehead.</p> + +<p>"Come into the parlour a minute."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I haven't time now, husband. There's the +washing to be done."</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother the washing! We've done with all +that now," said Nils Petter loftily. And, thrusting his +thumbs into the armholes of his waistcoat, he strode +stiffly in, followed by Jantje.</p> + +<p>"Jantje, sit down on the sofa. Ahem ... er ... +an event has occurred ..."</p> + +<p>"Have they made you captain, husband; you +have got a ship? We can go to Holland together, is +it not?" Jantje clapped her hands together, and +looked at him expectantly. Poor Jantje had never +seen her native land since the day she sailed away on<a class="pagenum" name="Page_266" id="Page_266" title="[Pg 266]"></a> +board the <i>Eva Maria</i>, and still felt strange in Norway, +speaking the language with difficulty as she did.</p> + +<p>"We're rich, Jantje; we're millionaires, that's what +it is."</p> + +<p>Jantje turned serious at once; her first thought was +that Nils Petter must have taken a drop too much—a +thing that rarely happened now since he had been +married.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think you'd better lie down a little, +husband?" she said quietly, pointing to the bedroom.</p> + +<p>"Oho, you think I've been drinking? Well, here's +the letter from the Justice; you can see for yourself."</p> + +<p>Jantje took the letter and studied it intently, but +could not make out a word of what it said.</p> + +<p>"Your Uncle Peter van Groot died in Java last +year, and left millions of gylden, and no children——"</p> + +<p>"Praise the Lord!" exclaimed Jantje.</p> + +<p>"And all those millions are ours now, seeing we're +the nearest heirs since your mother and father died."</p> + +<p>"Poor Uncle Pit—kind old Uncle Pit," sighed Jantje, +wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Then, +rising to her feet, she went on: "If that's all, husband, +then I'll go and finish the washing."</p> + +<p>"Washing, now? No, you don't, Jantje. Off +with you at once and put on the finest you've got: +your green dress and the coral brooch."</p> + +<p>"But the things will be spoiled in the water, +husband."</p> + +<p>"Never mind; let them. Hurry up and get dressed +now."</p> + +<p>Jantje went off to dress, but not before she had slipped +out into the wash-house, wrung out the wet things and +hung them up to dry.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_267" id="Page_267" title="[Pg 267]"></a> +Nils Petter put on his best blue suit, a starched +shirt with collar and cuffs, a black tie and stiff +hat.</p> + +<p>Then Jantje appeared, wearing her green dress, her +face all flushed and aglow with hurrying.</p> + +<p>The pair sat for a moment looking at one another.</p> + +<p>"Jantje!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, husband?"</p> + +<p>"What shall we do with it all?"</p> + +<p>Such a question from Nils Petter was too much for +Jantje all at once. She looked helplessly round the +room as if seeking for somewhere to put it.</p> + +<p>"It's a question what to do with any amount of +capital these days. Shipowning's a risky business...." +Nils Petter paced up and down thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>Then Jantje had an inspiration. "Husband, there's +the big clothes-chest, room for lots of money in that." +And she hurried out into the passage and began dragging +out the chest.</p> + +<p>"No, no, Jantje; leave it alone. The money'll +have to be put in the bank, of course. We can't keep +it in the house."</p> + +<p>There was a knock at the door. "Come in!" It +was Watchmaker Rordam. "Congratulations, my +boy. Grand piece of luck, what? Must be strange-like, +to get all that heap of money at once."</p> + +<p>"Well, ye-es," said Nils Petter; "it's a trouble to +know what to do with one's capital, though; these +savings banks pay such a miserable rate of interest." +Jantje looked at him in surprise. Why, only a fortnight +ago, when he had had to renew a bill at the bank, +he had declared loudly against the "pack of Jews" +for charging too high a rate.</p> + +<p>"You won't forget your old friends, Nils Petter, I<a class="pagenum" name="Page_268" id="Page_268" title="[Pg 268]"></a> +hope, now that you've come into a fortune," said +Rordam.</p> + +<p>"Trust me for that, lad," said Nils Petter. "I +haven't forgotten how you helped me out when I was +near being sold up; I owe you something for that. +Being thankless towards friends that lent a hand when +times were hard is a bad mark in the register and the +sign of an unseaworthy character, and it shan't be +said of Nils Petter Jorgensen." And he gripped +Rordam's hand emphatically.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, what do you say to a drink?"</p> + +<p>"Not for me, thanks," answered Rordam. "I've—I've +given it up," he added, not without some reluctance.</p> + +<p>"Don't mind if I have one?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed."</p> + +<p>"Jantje, give me a drop of Hollands. It's a plaguy +business thinking out how to invest big sums of money."</p> + +<p>Rordam had never had any experience of that sort +of business, but thought he would not mind a little +trouble, given the occasion.</p> + +<p>Nils Petter drank off his glass. Rordam stuck to +his refusal bravely, which so won Nils Petter's admiration +that he bought of the watchmaker a splendid +clock, costing five pounds, an elegant piece of work +with a marble face and gilt lions above. Furthermore, +on leaving, Rordam was given a piece of paper with +the following words:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="b0">"Mr. Watchmaker Rordam to receive £50—fifty +pounds—when I get the legacy.</p> + +<p class="sig">"<span class="smcap">N. P. Jorgensen.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<p>This last was a gratuity, which Nils Petter felt he +ought to give for old friendship's sake.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_269" id="Page_269" title="[Pg 269]"></a> +Rordam was delighted; at last he would be able +to pay off the many little odd debts that had been +worrying him for years past.</p> + +<p>Hardly had Rordam gone when Schoolmaster +Pedersen came in, bringing a large oleander as a present +for Jantje.</p> + +<p>Nils Petter and the schoolmaster had never been +very friendly, holding different political opinions; +Nils Petter especially waxed furious whenever he saw +Pedersen's anti-Swedish flag hoisted in the garden. +A couple of years ago he had gone in and cut it down, +but the matter was, fortunately, smoothed over, +Pedersen being an easy-going man, while his wife and +Jantje were very good friends.</p> + +<p>"I just looked in, my dear Jorgensen, to see if you'd +any use for a secretary. A man in your position, of +course, will have any amount of writing and bookkeeping +work, and you know I'd be glad to make a +little extra myself."</p> + +<p>Nils Petter was not much of a scholar. The few +occasions when he had to use a pen caused him no +little difficulty; his big, unaccustomed fingers gripped +the pen-holder as if it were a crowbar.</p> + +<p>"Why, I dare say I might.... And what would +you want a year for that?"</p> + +<p>"I'd leave that to you."</p> + +<p>"Would £200 be enough?"</p> + +<p>Pedersen jumped up in delight and almost embraced +Nils Petter. "It's too much, Jorgensen, really."</p> + +<p>"It won't be too much; there'll be a deal of work +to do. But I forgot, one thing you'll have to do: get +rid of that beastly flag of yours."</p> + +<p>Pedersen turned serious. "The Norwegian flag is +our national emblem, and that alone. As a true<a class="pagenum" name="Page_270" id="Page_270" title="[Pg 270]"></a> +patriot, I must stand by my convictions. Norway...."</p> + +<p>Nils Petter broke in angrily. "Norway, Norway! +There's a sight too much of that if you ask me. I've +sailed with the good old Union flag round the Horn +and the Cape of Good Hope as well, and it's been +looked up to everywhere. You can take and sew in +the Swedish colours again, if you want the place—not +but what the old flag's handsome enough," he added +in a somewhat gentler tone.</p> + +<p>Pedersen thought this rather hard; but £200 a +year was not to be sneezed at, and, after all, there +were limits to what could be reasonably demanded +of a patriot. He was accordingly appointed private +secretary, on condition that the Union colours be +included in his flag forthwith, and set off home rejoicing. +And feeling that he could now afford a little jollification, +he bought a joint of beef, a bottle of wine, and +a bag of oranges for the children.</p> + +<p>Later in the day Bernt Jorgensen came round; he, +too, had heard of the wonderful legacy.</p> + +<p>"You'll need to be careful now, with all that money, +Nils Petter; a fortune's not a thing to be frittered +away."</p> + +<p>"Trust me for that, brother. And you shall have +a share of it too, for you've been a good sort. I will +say, though, a trifle on the saving side at times, but +never mind that now. Look here, Bernt, would you +care to sell the <i>Eva Maria</i>?"</p> + +<p>Bernt Jorgensen was so astonished at this sudden +changing front that he hardly knew what to say. +Hitherto Nils Petter had always been deferential and +respectful towards him; now, however, he seemed to +be adopting an air of lordly condescension.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_271" id="Page_271" title="[Pg 271]"></a> +"Well, what do you say?"</p> + +<p>"Sell you the <i>Eva Maria</i>! Well, it'd mean a lot of +money for you, Nils Petter."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right. I've got plenty."</p> + +<p>Bernt Jorgensen would not decide all at once, but +wanted time to think it over.</p> + +<p>During the next few days Nils Petter was inundated +with visitors, and Jantje was kept busy all the time +making fresh coffee in her best green dress, which +caused her not a little anxiety, lest it should be soiled. +Nils Petter told her not to worry; she would get a +new one. But it was not Jantje's way to be careless +with things.</p> + +<p>Various speculators came offering properties for sale +in various parts of the country, producing such masses +of documents that Pedersen, as secretary, had his work +cut out to find room for them in the parlour.</p> + +<p>By way of finding a ship for his friend Thoresen, +Trina's husband, Nils Petter had purchased the brig +<i>Cupid</i> from Governor Abrahamsen for £500, also the +Sorgenfri estate, situated a little way out of the town. +This latter property, with a fine two-storeyed house +looking out on the fjord, ran him into something like +£1200. In each case it was stipulated that "the +purchase money shall be paid in cash as soon as my +inheritance from Holland is made over."</p> + +<p>N. P. Jorgensen and his secretary had both been +up to view the Sorgenfri estate, and were very pleased +with it on the whole. They agreed, however, that +some alterations would have to be made, such as laying +out a park, with fish-pond, and building a skittle-alley, +which last Nils Petter was especially keen on, having +been greatly devoted to that form of sport in his +youth.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_272" id="Page_272" title="[Pg 272]"></a> +Then came a number of letters addressed to "N. P. +Jorgensen, Esquire," during this time.</p> + +<p>His old friend, Shipbroker Rothe of Arendal, was +forming a company to acquire a big steamer for the +China trade, which was to give at least 30 to 40 per +cent. He wanted only £3000 to complete, and invited +Nils Petter, for old acquaintance's sake, to take up +shares to that amount.</p> + +<p>"Good fellow, is old Rothe," said Nils Petter to his +secretary. "I used to have a drink with him every +evening when I was up there with the old <i>Spesfides</i> +for repairs. We went in for our mates' certificate +together, too. Write and say I'll take shares for the +£3000; that'll put him right."</p> + +<p>It was late in the evening most days before Nils +Petter and his secretary had got through the day's +correspondence, and Nils Petter, who was accustomed +to turn in about eight or nine o'clock, was so tired and +sleepy that he wanted to leave everything as it was; +but Pedersen was zealous in his work, and declared +it was the first essential of a business man to answer +letters promptly.</p> + +<p>There was no help for it; Nils Petter was obliged +to sit up, wading through all sorts of documents, +company prospectuses, particulars of house property, +mines, steamships, etc. etc. Secretary Pedersen left +nothing unconsidered. Nils Petter all but fell asleep +in his chair. And when at last he got to bed he would +lie tossing and talking in his sleep, till Jantje had to +get up and put cold water bandages on his head. +Every morning he shuddered at the thought of that +day's burdens, especially when the postman came +tramping up with bundles of letters and circulars, one +bigger than another.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_273" id="Page_273" title="[Pg 273]"></a> +Jantje and Nils Petter sat drinking their coffee in +the kitchen, one each side of the table in front of the +hearth. This was the best time of the day, Nils Petter +thought; he could take it easy as in the old days, sitting +in his shirt sleeves, and caring nothing for letters and +investments.</p> + +<p>Jantje, too, liked this way best; she was always +uncomfortable when she had to put on her green +dress.</p> + +<p>The coffee-pot was puffing like a little steam-engine +on the hob, and Jantje was cutting the new bread into +good thick slices.</p> + +<p>"Jantje!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, husband; what is it?"</p> + +<p>"Seems to me we were a good deal better off before +we got all this money."</p> + +<p>"Ay, that's true, that's true."</p> + +<p>"And I don't somehow feel like moving up to +Sorgenfri—it's nice and comfortable here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you, thank you, husband. I'm so glad. +I'd never feel happy away from here."</p> + +<p>Nils Petter and Jantje had one great regret—they +had no children. They had often talked of adopting +one. The question cropped up again now. Jantje +had heard that Skipper Olsen's widow had just died, +leaving a four-year-old boy with no one to look after +him but the parish; they decided, therefore, to take +him and bring him up as their own. Jantje busied +herself making preparations, and Nils Petter, disregarding +Pedersen's insistence, flatly refused to be +bothered with letters just now; he too had things to +do about the house, getting ready for the boy.</p> + +<p>The news soon spread that little Rasper Olsen was +to be adopted by Nils Petter. Had ever a poor<a class="pagenum" name="Page_274" id="Page_274" title="[Pg 274]"></a> +orphan such a stroke of luck! They called him the +millionaire boy.</p> + +<p>When at last Jantje came in, leading the little +fellow by the hand, Nils Petter's delight knew no +bounds; he laughed and sang, and lifted the pretty, +chubby lad and held him out at arm's length.</p> + +<p>The boy took to Jantje at once, and when he began +to call her "Mama," she wept with joy, and had to +run and find Nils Petter that he might hear it too. +He tried to get the child to call him "Papa," but +here he was disappointed; Rasper would not call +him anything but "Nils Petter," as he had heard +everybody else do.</p> + +<p>The first night, one of the richest heirs in the country +slept in a washing-basket, to the great delight of Nils +Petter, who amused himself swinging basket and boy +together over his head till the child fell asleep.</p> + +<p>Nils Petter was getting altogether unreasonable, +so at least his secretary thought. He declined altogether +to go to the office now, and went out +fishing in his boat instead. And Jantje put on her +old house frock again and stood over wash-tub just +as before.</p> + +<p>"Extraordinary people," said Pedersen. "Really, +it's a pity to see all this money thrown away on folk +with no idea of how to use it."</p> + +<p>And indeed Nils Petter and Jantje gradually were +fast slipping back to their old way of life. All Pedersen's +arguments and entreaties could not persuade +them to move out to Sorgenfri and take up a position +suited to their means. In vain the schoolmaster +urged "the duties involved by possession of worldly +wealth, responsibilities towards society in general," +and so on; Nils Petter cared not a jot for anything<a class="pagenum" name="Page_275" id="Page_275" title="[Pg 275]"></a> +of the sort; he was going to live his own way, and the +rest could go hang.</p> + +<p>One day Justice Heidt came round, and asked to +speak to Nils Petter privately.</p> + +<p>"There we are again," grumbled Nils Petter; +"more about that wretched money, I'll be bound."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to say," began the Justice, "I have +bad news for you about this legacy business—very +bad news indeed."</p> + +<p>"Well, I've had nothing but trouble about it from +the start," said Nils Petter, "so a little more won't +make much difference."</p> + +<p>"The legacy in question proves to be considerably +less than was at first understood—in fact, I may say +the amount is altogether insignificant."</p> + +<p>"Well, it'll be something anyway, I suppose?" +Nils Petter felt he ought to have a little at least for +all his trouble.</p> + +<p>"I have a cheque here for 760 gylden, and that, +I am sorry to say, is all there is."</p> + +<p>"Well, to tell the truth, Justice, I'm not sorry to +hear it. I've been that pestered and worried with +this legacy business, I'll be glad to see the last +of it."</p> + +<p>Nils Petter went round to the bank and changed +his cheque; it came to 1140 crowns. Of this Pedersen +received 200 for his secretarial work, Rordam another +200, the remainder was put in the bank as a separate +account for little Rasper. Nils Petter and Jantje +were glad to be rid of Sorgenfri, the brig, and the +postman. The last named, it is true, still brought an +occasional letter for "N. P. Jorgensen, Esquire," but +Nils Petter never bothered to look at them.</p> + +<p>And when Nils Petter set little Rasper on his<a class="pagenum" name="Page_276" id="Page_276" title="[Pg 276]"></a> +shoulders and asked: "Which would you rather +have, a million or a thrashing?" the boy invariably +answered, "Thrashing," at which Nils Petter would +laugh till it could be heard half-way down the +street.</p> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_277" id="Page_277" title="[Pg 277]"></a></p> +<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX<br /> +THE ADMIRAL</h2> + + +<p>Some people seem to have the privilege of +being as rude and ill-mannered as they please. +They are generally to be found among those +whose superior share of this world's goods enables +them to lord it over the little circle in which they +move.</p> + +<p>They may be compared to bumble-bees that rarely +sting, and only upon provocation. Ordinarily, they +are very harmless, and for my part I much prefer a +bumble-bee to the dainty and delicate mosquitoes +that look so innocent, as they smilingly perforate the +epidermis of a fellow-creature with a thousand little +stabs.</p> + +<p>"The Admiral" was a big bumble-bee. As a +young officer in the navy he had been a reckless +blade, and, having gained the rank of lieutenant, +was obliged to leave the service for some piece of +insubordination. He then entered the navy of a +minor eastern power, where his dominant qualities of +impudence and unscrupulousness were appreciated to +such a degree that he rose to the rank of Admiral. +Hence the title. It was stated that he "flogged +niggers and shot down cannibals," without the +formality of trial by jury—or indeed any formality +at all.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_278" id="Page_278" title="[Pg 278]"></a> +Thanks to the Admiral's zeal, the two gunboats +which constituted the navy in question were kept in +excellent order, but as the four guns of the combined +fleet enabled him to command the capital, including +the government, he became a trifle over-bearing.</p> + +<p>One day, when the King came on board to pay a +visit of inspection, with his two wives, the Admiral +declared that he would keep the younger lady for +himself, a wife being one of the items lacking in the +inventory on board. The King, as a good husband, +naturally declined to entertain the idea. Had it been +the elder of the two, the matter might perhaps have +been discussed, but as the Admiral stubbornly insisted +on taking the younger, the parties exchanged words, +and, ultimately, blows. This stage having been reached, +the Admiral took his sovereign by the scruff of the +neck, and his queen by the stern, and heaved the +pair of them overboard. Fortunately the gunboat +was not far off shore, and their majesties, who could +swim like fishes, made straight for land. But the waters +thereabouts are infested with sharks, and they were +forced to put on full speed to escape with their lives.</p> + +<p>The Admiral and the younger consort stood on the +deck of the gunboat, watching the august swimmers +with interest through a glass.</p> + +<p>The King, having scrambled ashore, stalked solemnly +up to his palm-shack palace, clenched his fist and shook +it violently at the Admiral, vociferating "schandalous." +This was a word he had learned from a German Jew, +who traded in glass beads, and adorned his notepaper +and visiting-cards with the inscription:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"By Royal Warrant to His Majesty the King of +Zumba-Lumba."</p> +</div> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_279" id="Page_279" title="[Pg 279]"></a> +Now the King knew nothing of revolution, not even +the name, and there was not a bolshevik to be found +in all his dominions. Nevertheless, he felt instinctively +that the Admiral's behaviour was an outrage against +the supreme authority vested in himself by right +divine.</p> + +<p>But what could he do against the Admiral and his +four guns? Of the four hundred warriors that composed +his army, only about half were armed with +muskets of an ancient type, procured by the Admiral +himself in days gone by. And the ammunition +amounted to practically nil, the Admiral having been +far-sighted enough to store most of the cartridges on +board the gunboats, serving out a small allowance +now and then to the King and his army, wherewith +to keep lions and tigers at a respectful distance from +the huts of the capital.</p> + +<p>The King thought over the matter for quite a while, +and at last sent for one of his numerous brothers-in-law. +Here, as in other kingdoms, the family relationship +was a most useful factor, providing a kind of +mutual insurance in support of the throne.</p> + +<p>His Majesty's kinsman, then, was appointed Envoy +Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary, and instructed +to proceed, in that capacity, to the neighbouring +territory of Hampa-Denga, and inform the +British Resident there that His Majesty the King of +Zumba-Lumba wished to place himself under British +protectorate at once.</p> + +<p>One morning, a few days later, the Admiral lay in +his hammock on deck, H.M.'s late consort in another +hammock at his side, fanning him with a palm-branch. +He was in the best of spirits, refreshed alike by his +morning bath and an excellent breakfast. The<a class="pagenum" name="Page_280" id="Page_280" title="[Pg 280]"></a> +parrots were chattering noisily in the great fragrant +agaves on shore, birds of paradise rocked on the +topmost crests of the palms, with impertinent young +monkeys vainly trying to tweak their tails. The +ex-queen chewed betel and smiled at him, and he, in +return, tickled the soles of her feet till she screamed. +It was a perfect little idyll; a very paradise.</p> + +<p>Neither of the pair noticed anything unusual until +suddenly a young English officer appeared on deck.</p> + +<p>He had come, it appeared, to deliver a dispatch to +the Officer Commanding the Fleet. And this is how +it ran:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—Pursuant to negotiations with His Majesty +the King of Zumba-Lumba, I have the honour to +inform you that His Majesty has this day placed +himself under British protectorate.</p> + +<p>"Accordingly, the Zumba-Lumba navy will henceforward +be under the Administration of the Governor +at Hampa-Denga and the naval station there.</p> + +<p class="b0">"The bearer of this, Sub-Lieutenant Algernon Smith, +is deputed to take over for the present the command of +the Zumba-Lumba Fleet.—I have the honour to be, +Sir, your obedient servant,</p> + +<p class="sig">"<span class="smcap">C. W. Melville St. Patrick</span>, C.B., R.N.<span class="corr" title='removed: "'></span></p> + +<p>"H.B.M.S. <i>Cyclope</i>, 6th February 1873."</p> +</div> + +<p>The Admiral's first impulse was to take this young +spark by the collar and throw him overboard, as he +had done a day or so before with His Majesty and his +wife. But on glancing over the side, he perceived, +under shelter of a small island, the white painted hull +of H.M.S. <i>Cyclope</i>, and thought better of it; instead, +he turned to the bearer of the letter, and, with kindly<a class="pagenum" name="Page_281" id="Page_281" title="[Pg 281]"></a> +condescension, invited him to come below and have a +drink.</p> + +<p>Whereupon they descended to the cabin, where the +Admiral initiated his young colleague into the maritime +affairs of the Zumba-Lumba.</p> + +<p>Then the Admiral packed up his things.</p> + +<p>He regretted that he had not a visiting-card, not +even a photograph to give his successor, but handed +over instead the younger wife of his late master as a +trifling souvenir.</p> + +<p>On reaching the deck, to his indescribable annoyance +he perceived the King, with his brother-in-law, +his four hundred warriors, and the elder wife, standing +on the shore, slapping their stomachs, the superlative +expression of mischievous delight in those parts.</p> + +<p>The foregoing brief narrative is to be taken as a +truthful and dispassionate account of the manner in +which the Admiral attained his title and dignity.</p> + +<p>The remainder of his doings during his sojourn +abroad, before he returned to settle down in his native +town on the coast, is soon told.</p> + +<p>The Admiral was not a man to be long idle, and, as +a sailor, he could always find a way. He captained +vessels for Chinese and Japanese owners, both sail +and steam. He started a fleet of tugs at Tientsin, +and obtained a concession for dredging the harbour +of Shanghai, with a host of other things, making a +very considerable fortune out of the whole.</p> + +<p>Then he turned his steps towards home, and purchased +the house of his fathers on the hill just above +the Custom House.</p> + +<p>He dismantled the old place almost entirely of its +furniture, and had it fitted up according to his own +ideas, as a sort of bungalow.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_282" id="Page_282" title="[Pg 282]"></a> +There were weapons all over the place; spears, +bows and arrows, pistols and guns of all sorts. Pot-bellied +idols smirked in every corner; lion and tiger +skins were spread on the floor. But the drawing-room +on the ground floor and the office in the side +wing, that had been his father's in the old days, he +left untouched. He even went so far as to have the +successive layers of wallpaper, that in course of years +had been hung one over another, carefully removed +one by one until he came to the identical one that had +adorned the place when he was a little lad and his +mother and father were still alive. Then he went +about all over the town, trying to buy up the old pieces +of furniture that had been sold and scattered about +thirty or forty years before. He went far up into one +of the outlying villages to get hold of one particular +birchwood cabinet which he had learned was to be +found there. He also managed to unearth his father's +old writing-desk, and had it set up in its old place in +the "office." And at last he really succeeded in +restoring the two rooms almost completely to their +former state. Then and not till then was he satisfied, +and began, as it were, to live his life over again.</p> + +<p>The Admiral was now a man about sixty. A giant +of a man to look at, with hands and arms of an athlete +and well proportioned.</p> + +<p>He had a big, curved nose, a trifle over large, perhaps. +And the eyes that shone out from beneath the +great bushy brows were not of the sort that give way. +His whole face bore the stamp of unscrupulous firmness, +softened a little, however, by the heavy whiskers +generally affected by naval officers in those days, and +which in his case were now perfectly white.</p> + +<p>When the Admiral came home he brought with him<a class="pagenum" name="Page_283" id="Page_283" title="[Pg 283]"></a> +a little girl twelve years old. A queer little creature +she was, with somewhat darker skin than we are +accustomed to see, and brilliant black eyes.</p> + +<p>"My daughter," said the Admiral, and that was all +the information to be obtained from that quarter.</p> + +<p>It was generally surmised that she must be the offspring +of his alliance with the young Queen of Zumba-Lumba, +who had, as we know, been on board the gunboat; +<i>ergo</i>, she was of royal blood. And the whole +town accordingly styled her simply "The Princess."</p> + +<p>As to whether he had contracted other alliances +elsewhere none could say, for the old servant, or lady +companion, whom he had brought with him from +abroad, was dumb as a door-post when the talk +turned in that direction.</p> + +<p>She was English and somewhat over fifty. Miss +Jenkins was her name, but the Admiral invariably +called her "Missa." Missa was the only person who +ever ventured to oppose him. Now and then the pair of +them might be heard arguing hotly, always in English, +till at last he would shout at her: "Mind your own +business, please!" This was his stock phrase for +terminating an argument when he did not care to +discuss the matter further.</p> + +<p>The Princess was to be confirmed. And there was +a great to-do in view of the event.</p> + +<p>The parson, naturally enough, requested the usual +particulars—parents' names, place of birth, date, +certificate of vaccination, etc. The whole town was +curious now, and great excitement prevailed; at last +the mystery would be solved. The parson had to go +down to the Admiral himself, and inform him, as +politely as possible, that the law required compliance +with certain formalities; an especially important<a class="pagenum" name="Page_284" id="Page_284" title="[Pg 284]"></a> +point was that the names of both father and mother +should be correctly stated.</p> + +<p>"She has no mother," the Admiral categorically +declared.</p> + +<p>"But, my dear Admiral, she must have had a +mother. In the ordinary course of nature...."</p> + +<p>"The course of nature's extraordinary where she +comes from."</p> + +<p>"But you must have been married, surely?"</p> + +<p>The Admiral glared, and his bushy brows contracted.</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"You."</p> + +<p>"I?" The Admiral chuckled.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the parson, lowering his voice a little; +he was beginning to feel a trifle uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>"Oh, in the tropics, you know, there are no such +formalities."</p> + +<p>"But surely that's immoral?"</p> + +<p>"We don't know the word in those parts." And +the Admiral rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>The parson plucked up courage and said quietly: +"But you yourself were a Christian, Admiral, were +you not?"</p> + +<p>"Mind your own business, please," answered the +Admiral, at the same time opening the door politely, +that the parson might slip out. The latter also +availed himself of the chance; he was not without a +certain uneasy feeling that if he failed to do so now, +his exit might take a less peaceable form.</p> + +<p>How the question was finally settled the writer +cannot say; the fact remains that the town was no +wiser than before.</p> + +<p>The Princess was confirmed, and received into +the best society of the town, as one of themselves.<a class="pagenum" name="Page_285" id="Page_285" title="[Pg 285]"></a> +She was slender and finely built, with a pretty face +and charming eyes. The only thing that marked +her as different from the other girls was the yellowish-brown +of her skin, and even this seemed to be growing +fainter as the years went by.</p> + +<p>As to her antecedents, she herself never referred to +the subject, and no one was ever indelicate enough +to ask her.</p> + +<p>Altogether, then, matters were going very well indeed, +both for the Admiral and the Princess. He +began to feel at home in his old town, and did not +regret having settled down there.</p> + +<p>And the townsfolk, for the most part, gradually got +used to the rough old fellow and his ways, though there +were still a few who declared they could not "abide" +him.</p> + +<p>Consul Endresen, for instance, and Henry B. +Karsten the ship-chandler were not accustomed to +be treated with such utter disregard by a so-called +"Admiral."</p> + +<p>Admiral indeed! Ha, ha! The whole thing was +a farce. The old humbug; he was no more an +admiral than Ferryman Arne. They turned up their +noses at him, but kept their distance all the same, with +an instinctive feeling that he might literally go so far +as to take them by the scruff of the neck if he felt like it.</p> + +<p>The two firms were old-established and respected +in the place, having occupied a leading position in the +commercial life of the town for generations, by reason +of their wealth, superior education and incontestable +ability. And in consequence neither felt at home elsewhere +than in their native place, where they were used +to play first fiddle generally. There was no competition +between the two; they were wise enough to<a class="pagenum" name="Page_286" id="Page_286" title="[Pg 286]"></a> +realise that any such conflicting element might easily +destroy the lead their fathers had established.</p> + +<p>But they would not suffer any outsider to intrude +on their domains, whether in business or in social life; +here they shared in common an undisputed supremacy.</p> + +<p>The young Karstens and Endresens were brought +up according to the principles of their respective +dynasties, and were sent abroad for their commercial +education, that they might be properly fitted for the +distinguished position they would be called to fill.</p> + +<p>Skipper Hansen and Blacksmith Olsen's offspring +found it was no easy matter to compete with them.</p> + +<p>Wealth, however, was the only thing they really +respected at heart, the old as well as the younger +generation.</p> + +<p>They would devote themselves several times a week +to calculating how much the other notables might be +worth, and were ill pleased that anyone should be +better off than themselves.</p> + +<p>It was even said that old Karsten took to his bed +out of sheer envy on hearing that someone else had +made a heap of money.</p> + +<p>Endresen was wilier and rarely showed his feelings, +but it was a well-known fact that he would be irritable +and unreasonable when he heard of others making a +successful deal. The clerks in his office said so.</p> + +<p>Then came the sudden appearance of the Admiral +in their midst. At first they did not understand this +brutal and domineering force. The old Karstens +themselves had been accounted proud and haughty +enough—though perhaps not exactly brutal; but +they were, as we have said, of a privileged caste. +But this so-called Admiral, what was he? A scion +of the town, it is true, inasmuch as he was a son of the<a class="pagenum" name="Page_287" id="Page_287" title="[Pg 287]"></a> +old shipbroker who had formerly occupied the house +now purchased by the newcomer. But he, the father, +that is, had been no more than a "measly broker," +who had just managed to scrape some sort of a livelihood +together by fixing contracts for the vessels owned +by Endresens and selling coal to the Karstens' factories.</p> + +<p>The Admiral himself, however, was evidently rich, +a man of unbounded wealth, indeed, and enough to +buy up Endresen's and Karsten's together. His +Income Tax Return spoke plainly in plain figures; +no farce about that! The fact was there, and could +not be ignored; an abominable thing, but none the +less true. There was nothing for it but to give him +his title of Admiral, and with a serious face. Had it +been some poor devil without means, they would have +jeered him out of the place.</p> + +<p>When the Admiral came striding up the main +street, a stout, imposing figure, even Henry B. Karsten +himself had to make way. He would wave one hand +in salutation and say "Morning!" in English, using +the same form of greeting to all, with the sole exception +of Arne the Ferryman, who was always +honoured with a shake of the hand.</p> + +<p>But the Princess fluttered about the place like a +dainty little butterfly. Old Missa looked after her as +well as she could, and never lost sight of her if she +could help it. But the Princess seemed to have wings! +She would manage somehow or other to vanish in a +moment: <i lang="it">presto!</i> gone! And there was Missa left +behind in despair.</p> + +<p>She would soon come fluttering back again, however, +smiling and irresistible as ever, and throw her arms +round Missa's neck and beg to be forgiven.</p> + +<p>The Admiral grumbled and swore he would "put<a class="pagenum" name="Page_288" id="Page_288" title="[Pg 288]"></a> +the youngster in irons" if she did not keep to the +house; but the youngster only laughed, perched herself +on the Admiral's knee, and pulled his long white +whiskers; and then he might fall to dreaming ... +dreaming of distant lands, of moonlight nights beneath +the palms and agaves, long and long ago.</p> + +<p>He fussed and grumbled and stamped about the +house, calling Missa a lumbering old mud-barge that +couldn't keep a proper look-out; but the Princess +fluttered on as before, entirely undismayed.</p> + +<p>There was to be a grand festival in the town, +a charity entertainment in aid of the Children's Home.</p> + +<p>All the young people of the town were to assist. +There was to be a theatrical performance, and an +exhibition of dancing on the stage. Young Endresen +and Karsten junior, of course, took a leading part in +the arrangements; "for a charitable object," they +could do no less. It was generally understood, however, +that the real object of both young gentlemen +was to see something of the Princess.</p> + +<p>The two heirs-apparent waged a violent struggle +for the Princess's favour. True, they had been duly +instructed by their respective fathers, as these by +their respective fathers before them, in the principle +that "the house of Endresen" or "the house of +Karsten" expected every son to do his duty—<i>i.e.</i> not +to marry beneath his rank, and also, to "consolidate +the standing of the firm," as it was conveniently put. +As regards the question of rank, this was, in the present +instance, a somewhat debatable one, but the question +of consolidation was plain as could be wished. Here +was a considerable fortune to be gained for the town, +and thus for one of the two firms. It was certainly +worth a struggle.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_289" id="Page_289" title="[Pg 289]"></a> +The Admiral had grumbled and stormed for a +whole week before consenting to the Princess participating +in the affair.</p> + +<p>The Princess was to dance—a dance she had composed +herself.</p> + +<p>There was great excitement; the local theatre +was crammed. The leading notabilities of the place +had booked up all the stalls at more than twice the +usual prices. Everyone who could get about at all +was present. Even old Endresen, who generally +affected to despise all such theatrical tomfoolery, had +found a seat in the front row, and confided to his +next-door neighbour that he had seen "Pepita" dance +in Paris—had even thrown her a bouquet—"but I +was very young, then, I must say," he added, with a +smile.</p> + +<p>Old folk in the town still told the story of how +Endresen, as a young man, had led a gay life in Paris; +a life so gay, and so expensive, that the Endresen +senior of the period had promptly ordered him to +come back home at once. "And he's turned out a +real good man for all that," they would hasten to +add.</p> + +<p>The theatrical performance went off quite successfully, +but without arousing any great amount of +enthusiasm. There was applause, of course, and the +principal actors had to appear before the curtain; +the leading lady was duly praised for her interpretation. +But it was the Princess all were waiting for.</p> + +<p>At last the curtain rose. The scenery was ordinary +enough: a "woodland scene," with the usual trees +and a pale moon painted on the background. It was +the standard setting, as used for classical tragedy, +vaudeville and, in fact, almost anything.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_290" id="Page_290" title="[Pg 290]"></a> +Enter the Princess, daintily as if on wings. She +wore a long white robe, that moved in graceful waves +about her slender figure; diamonds shone and +glittered in her hair. No one present had ever seen +such stones, and young Endresen swore they were +genuine. She wore a row of pearls too round her +neck, and heavy gold rings about her bare +ankles.</p> + +<p>The spectators seemed literally to hold their breath +with every nerve on the strain. The little figure up +there was like a vision; her feet hardly touched the +floor.</p> + +<p>First, she glided softly across the stage, her white +robe rising and falling like the gentle swell of the sea +on a summer's day, then faster and faster. She +whirled round, bent right down to the ground, and +fell in a heap, only to spring up again in a moment +and whirl round again at a furious pace.</p> + +<p>The public was simply spell-bound. No one had +ever seen, ever dreamed of such a sight.</p> + +<p>Her great black eyes shone towards them, while +that queer smile played about her mouth; she seemed +to move in a world of her own. The dusty old +scenery faded into nothingness; they saw but the +girl herself, and sat staring, enchanted, hypnotised.</p> + +<p>Gone! It was over. The curtain fell, and a silence +as in church reigned for some seconds after; the +spectators were getting their breath again, so to +speak. Then something unusual happened. Old +Endresen rose to his feet, clapped his hands and +cried: "Encore, encore!"</p> + +<p>Forgotten were his seventy years, his dignity, +everything; he was young again, young and infatuated +as he had been in Paris half a century before,<a class="pagenum" name="Page_291" id="Page_291" title="[Pg 291]"></a> +when he joined in the cry of the thousands shouting, +"<i lang="fr">Vive Pepita, vive l'Espagne!</i>"</p> + +<p>At last the general enthusiasm found vent in shouts +of applause like the roar of a bursting dam. Handkerchiefs +were waved; all rose to their feet.</p> + +<p>Then once more she glided in across the stage.</p> + +<p>Again an outburst of delighted applause.</p> + +<p>One young man in particular seemed intent on +outdoing all the rest—a fair-haired little fellow with +a snub nose and pince-nez.</p> + +<p>He sat in the stage box, and his shrill voice could +be heard all over the theatre as he cried in unmistakable +west coast dialect: "Bravo, bravissimo! +Bravo, bravissimo!"</p> + +<p>All looked at him and laughed. It was Doffen +Eriksen, or Doffen, simply, as he was generally called. +He came from Mandal originally, but had been several +years in the town, first as head clerk at Eriksen's, +and later with other local firms. His natural tendency +to continual opposition, and lack of respect for his +superiors, indeed for all recognised authority, prevented +him from ever keeping a situation long.</p> + +<p>He had recently gone over to the Socialist party, +but at the very first meeting had abused his new +comrades with emphasis: thieves, scoundrels and +political mugwumps were among the expressions he +used. The last in particular aroused their indignation, +and after a few weeks he was excluded from the +party. He was now a free-lance, with no regular +employment.</p> + +<p>Then it happened that the Admiral advertised for +an assistant to help in the office. The Admiral used +his office chiefly as a place where he could give way +to bad language as often as he pleased; he felt he<a class="pagenum" name="Page_292" id="Page_292" title="[Pg 292]"></a> +ought to keep himself in training, and arguing with +Missa was too milk and watery for his taste.</p> + +<p>The work in the office consisted for the most part +of keeping the accounts of a couple of small vessels +which he owned, together with the cutting out of +coupons and cashier work. The Admiral himself +never condescended to take up a pen; one had coolies +to do that sort of thing, he would say.</p> + +<p>His two skippers were rated and bullied every time +they came home from a voyage, but they were so +used to the treatment that they never noticed it.</p> + +<p>It was worse, however, for the clerk, who had to +endure the same thing day after day.</p> + +<p>During the last year or so, the Admiral had had +four or five different specimens in the office, but they +always made haste to better themselves at the earliest +opportunity, or simply "got the sack." They were +all either "a pack of fools that couldn't think for +themselves," or "a lot of impertinent donkeys that +fancied they knew everything."</p> + +<p>And when, after one of his usual outbursts, the +unfortunate in question found it too much, and gave +notice to leave, the Admiral's standard answer was +"All right! then I'll have to get another idiot from +somewhere."</p> + +<p>Doffen applied for the post, referring to his previous +experience, and stated that he had been "simply +thrown out of various situations, not through any +lack of ability, but because the principals were so +many blockheads, who could not bear to hear a free +and independent man express his frank opinion." +He was at present disengaged, on the market, and +perfectly willing to undertake any kind of work whatever, +"even to playing croquet." The Admiral read<a class="pagenum" name="Page_293" id="Page_293" title="[Pg 293]"></a> +the application through; it was the only one he had +received in answer to his advertisement.</p> + +<p>He grunted once or twice as he read. Missa laid +down her needlework and prepared for a direct attack.</p> + +<p>The opening seemed to take his fancy, but when +he came to the part about playing croquet, he exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"What the devil does the fellow mean? Playing +croquet?"</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, the new slave I'm getting for the office."</p> + +<p>"Well, why not. He might play with Baby."</p> + +<p>"Oh go to...." The Admiral got up and put the +application into the fire.</p> + +<p>Next day Doffen, as the sole applicant, was +accorded the post. He sat down at the high desk, on +one of those scaffold-like office stools with a big +wooden screw in the middle. It was a matter of some +difficulty to climb up, Doffen being small of stature, +but with the aid of some acrobatic backwork, he soon +learned to manage it.</p> + +<p>Opposite his place was the Admiral's seat. He +loved to sit there, in the very spot where his father +had sat, year after year, as far back as he could +remember.</p> + +<p>It was not often the Admiral showed any evidence +of gentler feeling, but it happened at times, when +very old folk chanced to come into the office. They +would stand still for a long time, looking round in +wonder, and finally exclaim:</p> + +<p>"Why, if it's not exactly as it used to be in your +father's time!" and then the Admiral would jump +down from his stool and slap the speaker on the +shoulder.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_294" id="Page_294" title="[Pg 294]"></a> +During the first few days Doffen had not seen much +of the Admiral, who had hardly looked in at the office +at all. He wanted to get some idea of the "new +slave's" manner and behaviour before he sat down.</p> + +<p>On the day after the performance, the Admiral +walked in and took his seat. Silence for a few +minutes.</p> + +<p>At last Doffen thought he ought to say something, +and observed with the utmost coolness:</p> + +<p>"Your daughter danced very nicely last night."</p> + +<p>"H'm." The Admiral only grunted, and looked +out of the window. Doffen imagined he had not +heard.</p> + +<p>"I was saying, Admiral, your daughter gave a +deuced fine performance last night." Doffen raised +his voice a little, thinking the Admiral must be hard +of hearing.</p> + +<p>"And what the devil's that got to do with you?" +Doffen slammed down the lid of his desk with a +bang.</p> + +<p>"To do with me? Why, I paid for my ticket, +anyway."</p> + +<p>"I didn't ask her to dance for you, my lad, and +devil take me but it shall be the last time."</p> + +<p>"What's that to do with me?" retorted Doffen +coldly.</p> + +<p>The Admiral began to feel in his element; here at +last was a man who could stand up to him.</p> + +<p>"Can't you see she's like a young palm? Haven't +you got a spice of feeling in you, man?"</p> + +<p>"That's my business, Admiral."</p> + +<p>The Admiral stopped short. He was on the point +of bringing out his own favourite retort: "Mind your +own business," and here was this fellow taking the<a class="pagenum" name="Page_295" id="Page_295" title="[Pg 295]"></a> +very words out of his mouth. He went out of the +room without a word.</p> + +<p>Several times after that the Admiral launched his +attacks at the new clerk, but invariably got as good +as he gave. More than that, Doffen would even take +the offensive himself.</p> + +<p>"What do you think you're doing with these two +hulks of yours, Admiral, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Hulks?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, these two old wooden arks. The skippers +go floundering about like hunted cockroaches at sea, +and the ships themselves go pottering from pillar to +post; it's high time you got some system into the +business."</p> + +<p>"You mind your own business, please," said the +Admiral, rapping on the desk. But at that the other +let himself go in his barbarous dialect, like a gramophone:</p> + +<p>"It is my business, and as long as I'm stuck here on +this spindle-shanked contrivance of a stool I'll say +what I think. Take me for a dumb beast, do you? +Not me! It'll take more than you know to stop me +talking. We're used to rough weather where I come +from."</p> + +<p>And Doffen went on in the same strain long after +the Admiral had got out of the room. The Admiral +himself, however, listened with delight from the other +side of the door, as Doffen thumped his desk again and +again, still in the full torrent of speech. It was worth +while going to the office now. No more sitting glowering +at a servile, stooping-shouldered little scrap of a +man, who scribbled away for dear life and shrank in +terror every time he entered. Now he would generally +find the room in a thick haze of tobacco smoke so that<a class="pagenum" name="Page_296" id="Page_296" title="[Pg 296]"></a> +he himself could scarcely breathe. Doffen's pipe was +rarely out of his mouth. Several times the Admiral +had invited him, in well-chosen words, to take his +beastly pipe to a hotter place, but only to be met +with the retort that it might be as well, seeing there +was never a box of matches here when a man wanted +a light. The Admiral came more and more often to +the office now. Here at least he could be sure of +getting a fair go at any time, for Doffen was always +open for a game.</p> + +<p>After a while a tone of jovial roughness grew up +between the two of them, and authority was relegated +to the background, exactly as Doffen wished.</p> + +<p>Altogether there was every prospect of an idyllic +understanding between the two parties, until one day +Doffen fell in love, over head and ears in love beyond +recall.</p> + +<p>The Princess had captivated him completely. If +she chanced to come into the office for a stamp, or to +deliver a letter, his heart would start hammering like +a riveting machine.</p> + +<p>His brain was so confused he hardly knew what he +was doing. He would lie awake at nights in a torment +of hatred against the Endresen and Karsten boys, +who were rivals for her favour. And, after all, who +was better fitted than he? Had he not got the +Admiral's papers into proper order? Had he not +managed to knock the old porpoise himself into shape, +till he was grown docile and tractable as a tame +rabbit?</p> + +<p>The Princess smiled on Doffen as she smiled on +everyone, and each of course fancied himself specially +favoured. Even old Consul Endresen brightened up +at the sight of her, and was always ready to stop for a<a class="pagenum" name="Page_297" id="Page_297" title="[Pg 297]"></a> +chat; he would draw himself up and endeavour to +play the gallant cavalier. He had been a widower +now for many years, and it was commonly believed +that he was not unwilling to enter once more into the +bonds of holy matrimony, should a favourable opportunity +occur.</p> + +<p>The Admiral growled fiercely whenever Baby was +out, and Missa wept and wrung her hands over the +young ladies of the present day—particularly in this +barbarous country.</p> + +<p>Paying attentions? It was one continual paying +of attentions all day long. The young men of the +place were sick with longing when she was not to be +seen, and Doffen suffered most, having occasion to +see her every day. To make matters worse, she had +taken to coming into the office more frequently of +late, and would perch herself up on her father's high +stool. There she would sit and gossip with him for +half an hour at a time. Six times a week at least +Doffen was in the seventh heaven of delight. She +asked him questions about everything under the sun, +consulting him on every imaginable subject. And +then she would thank him with one of those wonderful +smiles, and a look from those dark eyes of hers—oh, +it was beyond all bearing.</p> + +<p>Doffen pondered long and deep, seeking some way +of coming to the point.</p> + +<p>He must not let the others get there before him, and +he decided on a <i lang="fr">coup de main</i>, which, as he had read +in the life of Napoleon, was the proper way to win a +battle. He would go directly to the Admiral himself.</p> + +<p>One morning, then, the Admiral came into the +office, looked long and attentively at Doffen, and +finally said:</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_298" id="Page_298" title="[Pg 298]"></a> +"What's the matter with you, man? You're +getting to look like a plucked goose, for all the sign +of life in you!" And he jumped up on his stool.</p> + +<p>"It's a dog's life being a man," declared Doffen +sententiously.</p> + +<p>"You find it easier, no doubt, to be a monkey," +said the Admiral.</p> + +<p>"Well, anyway, I'd be a sort of relative of yours," +said Doffen. "And it's as well to be on good terms +with the devil, they say."</p> + +<p>The Admiral laughed. This was a bad sign.</p> + +<p>Ugh! So Doffen was going to be funny, and make +jokes. That sort of polite conversation was a thing +the Admiral detested; it was blank tomfoolery; soup +without salt.</p> + +<p>No; what he enjoyed was proper high temper on +both sides like a couple of flints striking sparks. Anything +short of that made life a washy, milk-and-watery +dreariness. And most people, according to his +opinion, were just a set of slack-kneed molly-coddles +that sheered off at the first encounter. Devil take +their measly souls! When he did happen to meet +with a fellow-citizen who could get into a proper +towering passion, he felt like falling on his neck out +of sheer gratitude and admiration. Here, at last, was +a <em>man</em>! Women he placed in a separate category: +they were "fellow-creatures," just as rabbits, for +instance, whose chief business in life was to have +young ones.</p> + +<p>Doffen, then, ought to have realised that the +moment was not opportune for a <i lang="fr">coup de main</i>. He +had, however, only the day before, seen the Princess +out for a long walk with young Endresen, and he felt +he must act promptly, so he went on:</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_299" id="Page_299" title="[Pg 299]"></a> +"You could make a happy man of me, Admiral!"</p> + +<p>"You're happy enough as it is, man."</p> + +<p>"No, not quite. There's one thing wanting."</p> + +<p>"And what's that?"</p> + +<p>"Your daughter——"</p> + +<p>"Hey? Are you off your head?"</p> + +<p>"Your daughter," repeated Doffen. "I'd be a +good husband to her, and a proper son-in-law to +you."</p> + +<p>"I'll give you son-in-law!" roared the Admiral, +and, picking up the big Directory, he sent it full at +Doffen's chest; the latter, taken by surprise, came +tumbling down from his stool, and fell against the wood-box +in the corner.</p> + +<p>"You miserable nincompoop!" snorted the +Admiral, as he rushed out of the room.</p> + +<p>Doffen lay in the corner by the wood-box, groaning +pitifully. The noise had been heard all over the +house, and the Princess came rushing in to see what +was the matter<span class="corr" title="added: .">.</span></p> + +<p>"Are you ill, Eriksen?" she asked, taking his hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I think I must be dying," he said, touching +his chest.</p> + +<p>"No, no," said she. "It's not so bad as all that."</p> + +<p>"And if so, I shall have died for you."</p> + +<p>"Let me help you up on the sofa, now, and I'll fetch +you a glass of water."</p> + +<p>With her support he limped across to the sofa.</p> + +<p>"Better now?" she asked, handing him the glass +of water.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm so fond of you," said he, and tried to take +her hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do stop that nonsense!" said she, with a +laugh.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_300" id="Page_300" title="[Pg 300]"></a> +"Stop? How can I stop when I love you as deeply +as ... as ..." he paused, unable to find a sufficiently +powerful expression, then suddenly the inspiration +came, and, raising himself on his elbow, he went +on—"as deeply as is possible <em>in this line of business</em>!"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, really; you can talk about this another +time, you know. Come along now, Eriksen, pull +yourself together and be a man."</p> + +<p>"Then it's not a final refusal—not a harsh and cruel +'no' such as your father flung at me just now—with +that heavy book? Say it's not that!"</p> + +<p>But she was gone.</p> + +<p>Doffen lay back on the sofa once more, closed his +eyes, and thought of her. At last he fell asleep, and +lay there, never noticing when the Admiral peeped in +through the door, "to see if the carcass was still +alive." The sound of Doffen's snoring, however, +reassured him, and he went away again, contented +and relieved.</p> + +<p>The Princess sat in her room, highly amused with +the thought of her latest admirer. What a funny +creature he was! She rather liked him really, for all +that; he was always so willing and kind, and if one's +ardent worshippers themselves agree to be reduced to +the status of "just friends," why, it may be very +handy at times to have them in reserve. No, she +would not quarrel with Eriksen, because of this, not +at all.</p> + +<p>But, to tell the truth, it was getting quite a nuisance +with all these admirers. Everyone of them was always +wanting to meet her and go for a walk with her, and +talk of love! Oh, she was so utterly weary of them +all. These simpletons who imagined she was going +to settle down and stay in this little place all her life!</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_301" id="Page_301" title="[Pg 301]"></a> +Heavens alive, what an existence! No, thank you, +not if she knew it!</p> + +<p>It was annoying, in this frame of mind, to recollect +that she promised Endresen junior to meet him at +twelve o'clock by the big pond in the park. Still, a +promise was a promise; she would have to go.</p> + +<p>And lo, he came up with a huge bouquet of pale +yellow roses, her favourite flower, as he knew, tied +round with a piece of thin red ribbon.</p> + +<p>"When the roses are faded, you can take the ribbon +and bind me with it," he said.</p> + +<p>"When the roses have faded? Oh, but that won't +be for a long time yet—thank goodness." And she +laughed.</p> + +<p>"Well, so much the better; you can tie me up at +once."</p> + +<p>"But suppose I don't want to?"</p> + +<p>"Then I'll die, Baby. Go off and shoot myself, or +drown myself."</p> + +<p>"Drown yourself? Oh, do it now. I'll bet anything +you wouldn't dare."</p> + +<p>"I assure you I mean it," he said, placing one hand +on his heart.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, let me see what sort of a man you are, +Endresen. Walk round the edge of the pond here +five times——"</p> + +<p>"And what then?"</p> + +<p>"Then—oh, then you shall have——"</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"—My sincere admiration, let us say. That'll do to +go on with." And she smiled mischievously.</p> + +<p>He jumped up on to the narrow stone edging of the +pond and began balancing his way carefully along, +the Princess walking by his side, counting the rounds.<a class="pagenum" name="Page_302" id="Page_302" title="[Pg 302]"></a> +One—two—three—four times round. "One more, +and you've done it," she said encouragingly.</p> + +<p>"And then I've won your hand, haven't I?" he +cried.</p> + +<p>"Once more round, and—we'll think about it. +Now, last lap!"</p> + +<p>He stepped cautiously along, and was nearing the +end of the fifth round, when all of a sudden she jumped +up and gave him a push that sent him into the water +up to his waist.</p> + +<p>"No, that's not fair, Baby. I won."</p> + +<p>She danced up and down, clapping her hands and +laughing delightedly.</p> + +<p>"Adieu, Endresen! my sincere admiration. It was +splendid! But I don't think I'll walk home with you +now, or people might think you'd been drowning +yourself for my sake." And she ran off. Coming +through the town she encountered old Consul Endresen, +who stopped, as usual, to talk to her.</p> + +<p>"You're looking younger than ever, Consul," said +the Princess.</p> + +<p>"Am I, though? Oh, you know how to get at an +old man's heart, little sunbeam that you are! Looking +younger than ever, eh—and I'm sixty-seven to-day," +which, by the way, was three years less than the +truth.</p> + +<p>"To-day? Oh, then I must wish you many happy +returns—and here, let me give you these flowers."</p> + +<p>He stopped in surprise.</p> + +<p>"But, my dearest child, you don't mean it, surely? +These flowers, these charming roses, they were for +somebody else now, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it—they're for you."</p> + +<p>"Why, then, since you are pleased to command, I<a class="pagenum" name="Page_303" id="Page_303" title="[Pg 303]"></a> +bow—and many thanks." And, bowing deeply, he +took her hand and kissed it.</p> + +<p>The Princess hurried homeward, laughing at the +face of young Endresen when his father appeared with +the flowers.</p> + +<p>While all this was going on, Karsten junior was +sitting deep in thought as to whether he ought not to +propose to the Princess himself. He had sounded +his father on the subject, and the latter had made no +positive objection to the match. True, it was not +altogether <i lang="fr">comme il faut</i>, but still, it might be passed +over—though he certainly considered the old man +intolerable.</p> + +<p>Karsten junior was not much of a speaker, and +determined, therefore, to write instead. But he found +this, too, a ticklish business. He had never "operated +in that market" before, and was altogether unacquainted +with the article known as love. The opening +phrase of the contemplated letter was a stumbling-block +to begin with. Should he write "Miss," or +"Miss Baby," or "Dear Miss Baby"—or even straight +out, "Dear Baby"—but no, he must do the thing +correctly in due form. The house of Karsten was an +old-established firm, and he must make this evident.</p> + +<p>He decided at last for "Miss" simply.</p> + +<p>"Referring to our conversation of 7th inst., I +hereby beg to inform you ..." etc.</p> + +<p>He wrote on his sister's ivory paper, put the letter +neatly in an envelope, and sent it off.</p> + +<p>The Princess laughed when she got the letter. She +read it aloud to herself, and exclaimed with conviction: +"What a fool!"</p> + +<p>Altogether it had been a day of amusing experiences +for the Princess, but there was more to come. Yet<a class="pagenum" name="Page_304" id="Page_304" title="[Pg 304]"></a> +another letter arrived, that filled her with unbounded +astonishment. It ran as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear little Friend</span>,—Do not be startled +at receiving these lines from an old man. George +Sand was once asked when a woman ceased to love, +and she answered, Never. But if I were asked now, +when a man ceases to love, I should answer, for my +own part, I no longer love, I only admire and worship. +You will, I am sure, have realised, little friend, that +it is you I worship, your talents, your beauty, your +goodness of heart and brilliant spirit. What can I +offer you? A faithful protector, a good home, in +peace and harmony.</p> + +<p class="b0">"Think this over now, think well and wisely, and +keep what I have said a secret between ourselves. +Whatever you may do, whichever way your life may +turn, your happiness will be my greatest wish.—Affectionately +yours,</p> + +<p class="sig">"<span class="smcap">C. Endresen, Sen</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>This time she did not laugh, but took a match and +burned the letter in the stove.</p> + +<p>"This must be the end," she murmured to herself. +"I won't stay here any longer with all these ridiculous +men." She thought and pondered for several days +until the Admiral came in one day and said he was +going away for a week or so on business. In a moment +her plan was made. She said nothing to him of what +was in her mind; he would never have understood, and +it would have made no end of trouble all round.</p> + +<p>But she would take Missa into her confidence. Missa +had been a mother to her from the moment she realised +she was living in this world; she would tell her all.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_305" id="Page_305" title="[Pg 305]"></a> +"Missa," she said, throwing her arms round her +neck, "I can't stand this any longer."</p> + +<p>"There, there now; what is it, child?"</p> + +<p>"I can't bear to live in this dreadful place. I must +get away somehow."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, dear! it's just what I think. A dreadful +place."</p> + +<p>"Yes, there you are. And we'll go away, Missa, +you and I, out into the beautiful wide world."</p> + +<p>"But for Heaven's sake, what about your father?"</p> + +<p>"Father mustn't know about it. We'll just go off +by ourselves—run away, Missa dear."</p> + +<p>"Run away! God bless me no, child! The +Admiral...."</p> + +<p>The Princess begged and prayed, using all her powers +of persuasion and caresses, until Missa was gradually +stripped of all arguments to the contrary, and finally +rose to her feet.</p> + +<p>"But, Baby dear, how shall we make our living?"</p> + +<p>But at that the Princess jumped up and began +dancing wildly around.</p> + +<p>"Missa, I'll dance—dance for all the world; make +them wild with delight, till they throw themselves at +my feet. Missa, don't you understand, can't you +imagine ... oh, Missa, if you only knew.... But +you shall see, you shall see for yourself...."</p> + +<p>She sank down on the sofa, sobbing violently.</p> + +<p>Next day the Princess went down to the office.</p> + +<p>Doffen was now completely himself again after the +Admiral's very effective "refusal."</p> + +<p>He beamed like the sun when the Princess came in, +made her a deep bow and said: "At your service, +Miss—at your service, he, he!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, so you're still alive, Eriksen?"</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_306" id="Page_306" title="[Pg 306]"></a> +"Alive! The sight of you would have wakened +me from the dead!"</p> + +<p>"Eriksen, will you do me a favour?"</p> + +<p>"Will I? Anything, Miss, anything a man can do."</p> + +<p>"I want a thousand pounds."</p> + +<p>Eriksen slid down from his stool.</p> + +<p>"<em>A thousand—pounds!</em> Heaven preserve us! +A thousand! I haven't more than seven-and-six on +me.</p> + +<p>"But father has."</p> + +<p>"The Admiral! Yes, of course, he has; and more. +But that's not mine. Da—" he checked himself, +recollecting it was not the Admiral to whom he was +speaking—"dear me, you wouldn't have me steal his +money?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, all you need do is to let me have the key."</p> + +<p>"No, no, my dear young lady, no<span class="corr" title="added: .">.</span> It would never +do.</p> + +<p>"But it's only drawing a little in advance—on my +inheritance, Eriksen, you know. That's all it is."</p> + +<p>He stood reflecting quite a while.</p> + +<p>"But—what on earth do you want all that money +for?"</p> + +<p>She took his hand, and he trembled with emotion.</p> + +<p>"Eriksen, you're my friend, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"Heaven knows I am, Miss."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm going out into the wide world—to +dance."</p> + +<p>"But, heavens alive—that makes it worse than +ever! The Admiral, he surely isn't going off dancing +as well?"</p> + +<p>"No; Missa's coming with me. We leave to-morrow, +for Paris, Eriksen—London—New York—oh, ever so +far!"</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_307" id="Page_307" title="[Pg 307]"></a> +"But—but then, I shall never see you again."</p> + +<p>"Indeed you shall, Eriksen; I'll send you tickets, +a whole box all to yourself, for my performance in +Paris. Just fancy, a box at the theatre all to yourself. +And you must pay me a thousand pounds for it +now."</p> + +<p>"But the Admiral—the Admiral! I might just as +well give myself up and go to jail."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk nonsense, Eriksen! Are you my +friend or are you not?"</p> + +<p>The Princess got her thousand. And Eriksen duly +entered in his cash book:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"By +cash advanced to Miss Baby on account, as +per receipt number 325, £1000."</p></div> + +<p>And the Princess on her part solemnly signed for the +money:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"Received cash in advance on account of expected +inheritance, £1000—one thousand pounds."</p></div> + +<p>Doffen spent the evening helping Missa and the +Princess with their packing.</p> + +<p>She promised to write and let him know how she +got on, and gave him a photo of herself at parting, +with the inscription: "To my true friend Doffen, +from Baby."</p> + +<p>Doffen kept it near his heart.</p> + +<p>Missa gave him her photo too, but that he quietly +put away in a back pocket.</p> + +<p>Next morning he went down to the quay to see +them off. The Princess stood at the stern of the +ship, and waved to him. He was proud to think<a class="pagenum" name="Page_308" id="Page_308" title="[Pg 308]"></a> +that he was the only one she waved to, he was the +one to receive her farewell smile. And so the Princess +set out into the wide world.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>When the Admiral returned he found the following +letter awaiting him:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Father</span>,—Missa and I have decided to go +for a little trip to Paris, possibly also London, New +York, San Francisco, etc. We couldn't stand it any +longer, living in that old town of yours.</p> + +<p>"I have drawn £1000 from Eriksen; I hope you +won't mind. I don't think we could really manage +with less.</p> + +<p>"And, please, don't be nastier than usual to Eriksen +about it. I made him do it.</p> + +<p class="b0">"So long, then, for the present, and take care of +yourself. You shall hear from us when we get there.—Your +own</p> + +<p class="sig">"<span class="smcap">Baby</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>The Admiral grunted, got up and walked twice up +and down the room; then, muttering to himself, +"All right," he put the letter in the stove.</p> + +<p>When the Admiral came down to the office, Doffen +was inclined to be somewhat shaky about the knees. +He pulled himself together, however, and, bearing in +mind the example of Napoleon, took the offensive at +once.</p> + +<p>"Your daughter's gone away, Admiral!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, go to——"</p> + +<p>"Thanks. I don't think I will. I'm very comfortable +where I am."</p> + +<p>"You're a fool."</p> + +<p>"There's bigger fools about."</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_309" id="Page_309" title="[Pg 309]"></a> +"Why didn't you give her two thousand?"</p> + +<p>"She'd have had five thousand."</p> + +<p>"You've no idea what it costs to go travelling +about. A miserable stay-at-home like you."</p> + +<p>At this Doffen grew angry in earnest, and slammed +down the lid of his desk, making the ink-stands fairly +dance.</p> + +<p>"Well, of all the.... First of all I do my very +utmost to save you from being ruined by your illegitimate +offspring, then I manage to get her away in a +decent, respectable manner—you ought to be thoroughly +ashamed of yourself, if you ask me."</p> + +<p>The Admiral looked round as if in search of something.</p> + +<p>"What the devil have you done with that +Directory?" he said at last.</p> + +<p>"Oho! Perhaps you'd like to be had up for another +attempted manslaughter, what?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it. But there's a reward for extermination +of rats and other mischievous beasts."</p> + +<p>Here the discussion was interrupted by the entrance +of Ferryman Arne, who just looked in to ask if the +Admiral hadn't an old pair of breeches to give away, +as the seat was all out of the ones he was wearing. +The Admiral never refused. He went to a wardrobe, +routed out an old pair and gave them to Arne. The +latter examined them carefully, front and back, but +instead of saying thank you, he rudely declared that if +the Admiral wanted to give a poor man something to +wear, he might at least give him something that +wasn't falling to bits already.</p> + +<p>This led to a most satisfactory battle-royal between +Arne and the Admiral, each trying to outdo the +other in lurid pigeon-English—a tongue which both of<a class="pagenum" name="Page_310" id="Page_310" title="[Pg 310]"></a> +them spoke fluently, Arne having been twelve years +in the China Seas.</p> + +<p>And in the end the Admiral presented Arne with +two brand-new pairs of trousers and a pound in cash.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>The years passed by. Doffen stayed on in the office, +and became indispensable as time went on. He and +the Admiral made a pair. And whenever the conversation +languished towards the milk-and-watery, Ferryman +Arne would come and lend a hand.</p> + +<p>The Princess roamed far and wide about the world. +She sent home newspapers, wherein they read that +she was performing at this or that great city, with +thousands of admirers at her tiny feet.</p> + +<p>The Admiral read it all without the slightest token +of surprise, his only comment being: "All right, +that's her business." But when one day he received +a card bearing the inscription, "Countess Montfalca," +surmounted by a coronet, he spat, and remarked to +Doffen:</p> + +<p>"Well, after all, there's nothing surprising in that, +seeing her mother was a queen."</p> + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_311" id="Page_311" title="[Pg 311]"></a></p> +<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI<br /> +DIRRIK</h2> + + +<p>The first time I met him was in 1867, on board +the schooner <i>Jenny</i> of Svelvik. The skipper +was an uncle of mine, and had taken me +along as odd boy for a summer cruise. And Ole +Didriksen, or Dirrik, as we called him, was first hand +on board.</p> + +<p>We had taken in a cargo of pit props at Drammen, +and came down the fjord with a light northerly breeze. +A little way out the wind dropped altogether and the +<i>Jenny</i> lay drifting idly under a blazing sun.</p> + +<p>Dirrik sounded the well, and declared that "the +old swine was leaking like a sieve."—"Nonsense!" +said the skipper. "Why, it's not more than three +years since her last overhaul."—"Maybe," said Dirrik, +"but she's powerful old."—"Old she may be—built +in '32—and I won't say but she's a trifle groggy about +the ribs; still, she's good for this bit of a run. And +summer weather and all."</p> + +<p>Dirrik tried again. "Twenty-two inches," he said, +and looked inquiringly at the skipper. "Well, then, +you two men get the boat and go ashore for a few sacks +of caulking. There's plenty of ant-heaps up in the +wood there."</p> + +<p>I was ready to burst with pride at finding myself +thus bracketed with Dirrik as a "man." I felt<a class="pagenum" name="Page_312" id="Page_312" title="[Pg 312]"></a> +myself a sailor already, and would not have bartered +the title for that of a Consul-General or Secretary of +State.</p> + +<p>But the ant-heaps puzzled me. I could see no connection +between ant-heaps in a wood on shore and the +caulking of a leaky schooner. However, the first +duty of man at sea is to obey the orders of the supreme +power on board, <i>i.e.</i> the skipper; I curbed my curiosity, +then, for the time, and waited till we were a few +lengths away from the ship.</p> + +<p>"Ant-heaps?" said Dirrik. "Why, 'tis the only +way to do with a leaky old tub like that. We dig 'em +up, d'ye see, pine needles and all, and drag a caseful +round her sides and down towards her keel, and she +sucks it all up in her seams, ants and needles and bits +of twigs, and the whole boiling, and that's the finest +caulking you can get!"</p> + +<p>"Queer sort of caulking," I said.</p> + +<p>"There's queerer things than that, lad, when a +vessel gets that old. It's the same like with human +beings. Some of them keeps sound and fit, and others +go rotten and mouldy and drink like hogs—but they +often live the longest for all that!"</p> + +<p>"Do you think we'll ever get her across to England, +Dirrik?"</p> + +<p>"Get her across? Why, what are you thinking +of? She's never had so much as a copper nail put +in these last thirty years, but she'll sail for all that. +Run all heeled over on one side, she will, and squirming +and screeching like a sea-serpent."</p> + +<p>"She looks a bit cranky, anyway," I ventured.</p> + +<p>"Warped and gaping. But still she'll do the trip +for all that."</p> + +<p>We reached the shore, and Dirrik ordered me up<a class="pagenum" name="Page_313" id="Page_313" title="[Pg 313]"></a> +into the wood to fill the sacks, while he just ran up to +old Iversen, the pilot, for a moment.</p> + +<p>I managed, not without some difficulty, to get the +boat loaded up, but it was a full half-hour before Dirrik +appeared.</p> + +<p>At last he came strolling down, in company with a +pretty, buxom girl. "This is my young lady, an' her +name's Margine," said Dirrik, and pointing to me: +"Our new hand on board."—"Well, see you make a +nice trip," said Margine, "and come back again soon."</p> + +<p>We caulked the <i>Jenny</i> as per instructions, and got +her taut as a bottle. "Ants, they trundles off sharp, +all they know, into the holes for safety," Dirrik explained, +"and take along the pine needles with 'em."</p> + +<p>A fresh northerly wind took us well out into the +North Sea; then, a few days later, we lay becalmed +on the Dogger. An English fishing vessel sent a boat +aboard of us, trading fresh cod for a couple of bottles +of gin. Looking through the skylight I saw the old +man quietly making up the two bottles from one, by +the simple process of adding water to fill up. Rank +swindling it seemed to me, but he explained afterwards +that it was "our way of keeping down drunkenness, +my boy."</p> + +<p>Eight days out from Drammen we put in to Seaham +Harbour. Half our cargo under deck was sodden +through, for we'd three feet of water in the hold all +the voyage, despite the patent caulking.</p> + +<p>"Get it worse going home," said Dirrik. "We're +taking small coal to Drobak."</p> + +<p>A few hours later we were getting in our cargo, +and soon the <i>Jenny</i> was loaded almost to the waterline +with smalls. We were just about to batten down +the hatches, when the skipper came along and told<a class="pagenum" name="Page_314" id="Page_314" title="[Pg 314]"></a> +us to wait, there was some Government stuff still to +come.</p> + +<p>Down the quay trundled a heavy railway waggon +with two pieces of cannon, and before we had properly +time to wonder at the sight, the crane had taken hold, +the guns swung high in the air above the quay, and—one, +two, three—down they came into the main +hatchway all among the coals<span class="corr" title="added: .">.</span></p> + +<p>The schooner gave a sort of gasp as the crane let go, +and I thought for a moment we had broken her back. +She went several inches lower in the water, till the +chain bolts were awash, and the scuppers clear by no +more than a hair's breadth.</p> + +<p>"This looks dangerous," I said to the skipper +cautiously, as he stood by the side.</p> + +<p>"Why, what are you afraid of?"</p> + +<p>"My life," was all I found to answer.</p> + +<p>"And a lot to be afraid of in that!" said he, spitting +several yards out into the dock. "The guns are for +the fort at Oskarsborg, and it isn't every voyage I can +make fifteen pounds over a couple of fellows like +that."</p> + +<p>We set off on our homeward voyage. Fortunately, +our protecting ants still kept to their places in the +leaks, or there would have been an end of us, and the +guns as well. The skipper was ill, and stuck to his +berth the whole way home. The night before we left +Seaham Harbour he had been to a crab-supper ashore +at the ship-chandler's, and what with stewed crabs +and ginger beer, the feast had "upset all his innards," +as he put it.</p> + +<p>We got into trouble rounding the Ness. Dirrik was +at the helm, and hailed the skipper to ask if we hadn't +better shorten sail.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_315" id="Page_315" title="[Pg 315]"></a> +"Nonsense!" said the old man. "It's summer +weather—keep all standing till she's clear." The +rigging sang, and the water was flung in showers over +the deck.</p> + +<p>Dirrik ran her up into the wind as well as he could, +but was afraid of going about. Then: Crack! from +aloft, and crack! went the jibboom, and the flying +jib was off and away to leeward like a bat. The +skipper thrust up his head to take in the situation.</p> + +<p>"Got her clear?" he asked. "Ay," says Dirrik +calmly, "clear enough, and all we've got to do now is +pull in the rags that's left, and paddle home as best +we can."</p> + +<p>We were not a pretty sight when we made Drobak, +but the guns were landed safely, and that was the main +thing.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>After that, I saw no more of Dirrik till I met him at +the Seaman's School in Piperviken in 1872.</p> + +<p>There were three of us chums there: Rudolf, a +great big giant of eighteen, with fair curly hair and +smiling blue eyes. A good fellow was Rudolf, but +uncommonly powerful and always ready to get to +hand grips with anyone if they contradicted him.</p> + +<p>Dirrik was fifteen years our senior at least. He had +been twenty years at sea already, and reckoned the +pair of us as "boys."</p> + +<p>Dirrik had never got beyond the rank of "first-hand" +on board; it was always this miserable exam +that stood in his way. It was his highest ambition +to pass for mate, and then perhaps some day, with luck, +get a skipper's berth on some antiquated hulk along +the coast. But Dirrik was unfortunate. It counted +for nothing here that he had been several times round<a class="pagenum" name="Page_316" id="Page_316" title="[Pg 316]"></a> +the Horn, and received a silver knife from the Dutch +Government for going overboard in a gale, with a line +round his waist, to rescue three Dutchmen whose boat +was capsizing on the Dogger.</p> + +<p>It was as much as he could do to write. I can still +see his rugged fingers, misshapen after years of rough +work at sea, gripping the penholder convulsively, as +if it had been a marlin-spike, and screwing his mouth +up, now to one side, now to the other, as he painfully +scrawled some entry in the "log."</p> + +<p>"No need to look as if you were going to have a +tooth out," said Rudolf.</p> + +<p>"I'd rather be lying out on Jan Mayen, shooting +seal in forty degrees of frost," said Dirrik, wiping his +brow.</p> + +<p>"Devil take me, but I've half a mind to ship for +the Arctic myself next spring," said Rudolf.</p> + +<p>"Got to get through with this first," I said.</p> + +<p>"Ay, that's true," said Dirrik. "I've been up +four times now, and if I don't pass this time, my girl +won't wait any longer."</p> + +<p>"Girl?" said Rudolf, with sudden interest.</p> + +<p>"Margine Iversen's her name. We've been promised +now eleven years, and we <em>must</em> get married +this spring."</p> + +<p>"Must, eh?" said I.</p> + +<p>"He's been drawing in advance, what!" said +Rudolf, nudging me in the ribs.</p> + +<p>"No more of that, lads," said Dirrik. "Womenfolk, +they've their own art of navigation, and I know +more about it than you've any call to do at your +age."</p> + +<p>Just then Captain Wille, the principal of the school, +came up.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_317" id="Page_317" title="[Pg 317]"></a> +"Well, boys, how goes it?"</p> + +<p>"Nicely, thank ye, Captain," answered Dirrik. +"But this 'ere blamed azimuth's a hard nut to crack." +Dirrik wiped the sweat from his brow with a blue-checked +handkerchief, and blew his nose with startling +violence. "You won't need a foghorn next time you +get on board," said Wille slyly.</p> + +<p>"I say, though, Captain," said Rudolf, "we must +get old Dirrik through somehow. If he doesn't pass +this time, he'll be all adrift."</p> + +<p>"Oho!" said the Captain, smiling all over his kindly +face. "And how's that?"</p> + +<p>"Why, he's got to get married this spring, whether +he wants to or no."</p> + +<p>"But he doesn't need that certificate to get +married."</p> + +<p>"Ay, but I do, though, Captain," said Dirrik +earnestly. "For look you, navigation's badly needed +in these waters, and I'll sure come to grief without."</p> + +<p>"Why, then, we must do what we can to get you +through," said Wille. And, seating himself beside +Dirrik, he began to explain the mysteries of sine, cosine +and tangent.</p> + +<p>Dirrik sat with all his mental nerves strained taut +as the topmast shrouds in a storm. But the more +he listened to Wille's explanations the more incomprehensible +he seemed to find the noble art and science of navigation.</p> + +<p>Presently Lt. Knap, the second master, came up, +and relieved Captain Wille at his task. Knap was +quite young in those days, an excitable fellow with a +sharp nose that gave him an air of self-importance. +But a splendid teacher, that he was. I can still hear +his voice, after vain attempts to ram something into<a class="pagenum" name="Page_318" id="Page_318" title="[Pg 318]"></a> +Dirrik's thick head: "But, damnation take it, man, +I don't believe you understand a word!"</p> + +<p>No, Dirrik didn't understand a word, or, at any rate, +very little. One thing he did know, however, and that +was, if a man can take his meridian and mark out his +course on the chart, he can find his way anywhere on +the high seas.</p> + +<p>"All this rigmarole about azimuths and amplitudes +and zeniths and moons and influence and tides, it's +just invented to plague the life out of honest, seafaring +folk." This heartfelt plaint of Dirrik's was +received with loud applause by the rest of the school. +Knap himself was as delighted as the rest, and sang +out over our heads: "Well, you can be sure I'd be +only too glad to leave out half of it, for it is all a man +can do to knock the rest of it into your heads."</p> + +<p>Skipper Sartz, the third master, was a very old and +very slow, but a thorough-going old salt, who would +rather spin us a yarn at any time than bother about +navigation. We learned very little of that from him, +and he was generally regarded more as a comrade than +as a master. Rudolf supplied him with tobacco, free +of charge, to smoke in lesson-time, so there was no very +strict discipline during those hours. It was a trick +of Rudolf's, I remember, when Sartz was going through +lessons with him, to get hold of a ruler in his left hand +and draw it gently up and down the tutor's back. +Sartz would think it was me, and swing round suddenly +to let off a volley, ending up as a rule with a +recommendation to us generally to "give over these +etcetera etcetera tricks, and try and behave as young +gentlemen should."</p> + +<p>At last the great day came when Dirrik was to go up +for his exam. K. G. Smith—he's an admiral now—was<a class="pagenum" name="Page_319" id="Page_319" title="[Pg 319]"></a> +the examiner. All of us, teachers included, were +fond of Dirrik, and would have been sorry to see him +fail again.</p> + +<p>"Well, if I do get through this time," said Dirrik, +smiling all over his cheery face, "I'll stand treat all +round so the mess won't forget it for a week."</p> + +<p>And really I think he would rather have faced a +four week's gale of the winter-north-Atlantic type, or +undertaken to assassinate the Emperor of China, than +march up to that examination table.</p> + +<p>When the time came for the viva voce, Rudolf +and I could stand it no longer, we had to go in and +listen.</p> + +<p>Never before or since have I seen such depths of +despair on any human face<span class="corr" title="added: .">.</span> Poor Dirrik mopped his +brow, and blew his nose, and we sat there, with serious +faces, feeling as if we were watching some dear departed +about to be lowered into the grave. I can safely say +I have never experienced a more solemn or trying +ceremony, not even when I, myself, was launched into +the state of holy matrimony before the altar.</p> + +<p>The examiner sat bending over his work, entering +something or other—of particular importance, to +judge by the gravity of his looks.</p> + +<p>We heard only the scratching of his pen on the paper.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the silence was broken by a curious hissing +sound:</p> + +<p>"Fssst—fssst!" and then, a moment later, from +the direction of the stove: "Sssss!"</p> + +<p>It was Rudolf, who had squirted out a jet of tobacco +juice between his teeth over on to the stove in the +corner. Both the censors looked up, and the examiner +laid down his pen, flashing a fiery glance at Rudolf +from under his bushy brows.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_320" id="Page_320" title="[Pg 320]"></a> +"Pig!" said I, loud enough for the examiner to +hear, and was rewarded with a nod of approval.</p> + +<p>This saved the situation, for if the old man had lost +his temper, it would have been all up with Dirrik's +exam.</p> + +<p>Rudolf sat staring before him, entirely unconcerned.</p> + +<p>At last they began. I can still see the examiner's +close-cropped hair and bushy eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, can you tell me why a compass needle +invariably points towards the north?"</p> + +<p>Dirrik had not understood a syllable, but felt he +ought in common decency to make pretence of thinking +it out for a bit, then he said:</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, Captain, but would you mind reading +out the question once again?"</p> + +<p>A faint, almost imperceptible smile passed over the +Captain's face. The two old skippers, Olsen and +Wleugel, sat solemn as owls. Dirrik looked at the +examiner, then at the censor, and finally his glance +rested on us, with an expression of helpless resignation. +Rudolf nodded, and whispered "Cheer up," but Dirrik +neither saw nor heard.</p> + +<p>"Compass," he murmured—"Compass needle—points—points...."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the examiner, "<em>why</em> does it always +point to the north?"</p> + +<p>And suddenly Dirrik's face lit up with a flash of +blessed inspiration:</p> + +<p>"Why," he said cheerfully, "I suppose it's <em>just a +habit it's got</em>."</p> + +<p>This time the examiner could not help laughing, and +the censors themselves seemed to thaw a little.</p> + +<p>"H'm," said the examiner. "Yes ... well, and +suppose your compass needle happened to forget that<a class="pagenum" name="Page_321" id="Page_321" title="[Pg 321]"></a> +little habit it's got, as may happen, for instance, when +a vessel's loaded with iron—what would you do?" +Evidently he was in a good humour now.</p> + +<p>"Sail by the sun and the watch," answered Dirrik +promptly. He was wide awake now, and drew out as +he spoke a big silver watch with a double case.</p> + +<p>"I've sailed by this fellow here from the Newfoundland +Bank to Barrow in twelve days—it was with the +barque <i>Himalaya</i>, of Holmestrand."</p> + +<p>"When was that?" asked the examiner.</p> + +<p>"Seven years ago come Christmas it was."</p> + +<p>Dirrik felt himself now master of the situation, and +ran on gaily, as one thoroughly at ease.</p> + +<p>"It was blinding snow on the Banks that time. +The skipper was down with inflammation of the lungs, +and lay in his bunk delirious; we'd shipped some +heavy seas, and got four stanchions broken, and the +mate with four of his ribs bashed in, so he couldn't +move. And as for the crew, the less said about them +the better. We'd three niggers aboard and an Irishman, +and a couple of drunken gentlemen that'd never +been to sea before.</p> + +<p>"Well, I had to sail and navigate and all. It was +a gale that went on day after day, till you'd think the +devil himself was hard at it with a bellows. But, +luckily, I'd this old watch of mine, and she's better +than any of your chronometers, for it's a sixteen-ruby +watch——"</p> + +<p>"Sixteen ruby—what's that?" asked the examiner +with interest.</p> + +<p>Dirrik was proud as a peacock at the question; +fancy the examiner having to ask <em>him</em>!</p> + +<p>"Why, it's this way. If you look inside an ordinary +watch, you'll find it's either five rubies or ten, but it's<a class="pagenum" name="Page_322" id="Page_322" title="[Pg 322]"></a> +very rarely you come across one with sixteen, and the +more rubies you've got in a watch, the better she goes. +Well, anyway, when the watch came round to noon +midday, I'd take the run and check off our course, +and that way I got to windward of her deviations and +magnetic variations and all the tricks there are to a +compass mostly. Then, of course, I'd to look to the +log, and mark off each day's run on the chart."</p> + +<p>"Not so bad, not so bad," said the examiner, nodding +to the skippers.</p> + +<p>"No, we did none so badly, and that's the truth. +For we got into Barrow at high water twelve days' +sail from the Banks. The Insurance Company wanted +to give me a gold watch, but I said, 'No, thank you, +if t'was all the same, I'd rather have it in cash,' so +they sent me what they call a testimonial, and £15. +And that was doing the handsome thing, for it was no +more than my duty after all. As for the crowd of +rapscallions we'd aboard, I gave them a pound a-piece +for themselves—the poor devils had done what they +could, though it was little enough."</p> + +<p>"Have you ever taken the sun's altitude with a +sextant?"</p> + +<p>"Surely," said Dirrik. "Meridian and latitude and +all the rest of it."</p> + +<p>"Well ..." the examiner turned to the censors. +"I think that ought to be enough...?" And the +pair of them nodded approval.</p> + +<p>"Right! That will do." Dirrik was dismissed with +a gesture, and, making his bow to each in turn, he +hurried out as fast as he could.</p> + +<p>Next day one of the censors, Skipper Wleugel, came +down to the school and informed us that Dirrik had +passed, albeit with lowest possible marks.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_323" id="Page_323" title="[Pg 323]"></a> +Followed cheers for Dirrik, and cheers for the examiner, +and cheers for Knap—the last-named happening +to come out just at that moment, to see what all the +noise was about. That evening Dirrik invited Rudolf +and myself to the feast he had promised—great slabs of +steak and heaps of onions, with beer and snaps <i lang="la">ad lib.</i>, +and toddy and black cigars to top off with.</p> + +<p>And going home that night we knocked the stuffing +out of five young students from the Academy, on the +grounds that they lacked the higher education Dirrik +now possessed. Altogether, it was a most successful +evening.</p> + +<p>Dirrik went back home after that and married his +Margine. Three months later he was the father of +a bouncing boy, who was christened Sinus Knap +Didriksen, in pious memory of his father's studies +in the art of navigation and his teacher in the same.</p> + + +<hr class="w65" /> + +<p class="center smaller">PRINTED BY<br /> +MORRISON AND GIBB LTD.<br /> +EDINBURGH</p> + +<hr class="w65" /> + + + + +<h2>MODERN TROUBADOURS</h2> + +<p class="center">The Record of<br /> +THE CONCERTS AT THE FRONT</p> + +<ul class="inline center"> +<li class="italic">Crown 8vo</li> +<li class="italic">Cloth</li> +<li>5s. net</li></ul> + +<p>The sub-title, "Concerts at the Front," is known to +almost every soldier who fought in the Great War.</p> + +<p>The book is a record of the experiences of the actors +and musicians who during the years from 1915 to the +end of 1919 went to the War Zones. The record is +written by Lena Ashwell, known as an actress, who was +the Honorary Organiser of this effort through which +plays and music were taken to the armies by over six +hundred artists.</p> + +<p>It is the first time since the very early days of civilisation +that Drama and Music have received official recognition, +with the result that the teaching and use of +plays and music was placed in Army Orders. In the +Final Report of the Adult Education Committee the +importance of the Drama is for the first time insisted +upon as a means of education.</p> + +<p>The book is of interest, therefore, not only in giving +a somewhat new impression of the Great War, but as a +record of a new departure which in time may lead to +the position of the great arts in relation to the National +life being greatly changed.</p> + +<p>The human interest of the book is great and the evidence +of the power of well-directed emotion is remarkable.</p> + + +<hr class="w45" /> + +<h2>THE GARLAND</h2> + +<p class="center">By SIGRID UNDSET</p> + +<ul class="center inline"> +<li class="italic">Crown 8vo</li> +<li class="italic">Cloth</li> +<li>7s. 6d. net</li></ul> + +<p>A masterly historical novel of fourteenth-century +Norway.</p> + +<p>Kristin, the heroine, is the daughter of a lord of the +manor in Gudbrandsdal, she is singled out as a child +for a dangerous and romantic destiny. The story of +her early betrothal and of the wild love romance that +breaks it is told in "The Garland" in scenes of intense +dramatic effect, and the characters of the heroine, her +lovers, and her parents are developed with extraordinary +power. The mediæval setting is marked by a picturesque +realism, and the atmosphere of the time, with its strong +passions and superstitious terrors, is reproduced in a most +convincing way.</p> + + +<hr class="w45" /> + +<h2>THE LONG JOURNEY<br /> +FIRE AND ICE</h2> + +<p class="center">By JOHANNES V. JENSEN<br /> +<span class="smaller">Translated by A. G. CHATER</span></p> + +<ul class="center inline"> +<li class="italic">Crown 8vo</li> +<li class="italic">Cloth</li> +<li>7s. 6d. net</li></ul> + +<p>Johannes V. Jensen, whose work is new to English +readers, was born in 1873 in Himmerland, the district of +North Jutland which is richest in memories of the past. +He has been recognised for the last thirty years as an +independent force in Danish literature, where his production +marks a revolt against the French influences +prevalent at the close of the nineteenth century and a +return to old Scandinavian motives, with a strong leaning +towards the English school of imaginative writing. His +work is full of a primitive force, which is combined with +a power of lyrical description probably unsurpassed at +the present day.</p> + +<p>In "The Long Journey" Johannes V. Jensen tells the +story of the white man, in a series of romances or "myths," +of which the first are now presented in English.</p> + +<p>"Fire and Ice" is a story of adventure—the greatest +adventure in the history of mankind—telling with vivid +realism and much underlying humour how the white man +became white and acquired the powers of self-reliance +which made him master of the world.</p> + +<p>The story opens in the lost Paradise, where man steals +fire from Heaven. Armed with it he challenges Nature +and goes through the Ice Age, which sets the boundary +between the white man and the savage. When the thaw +comes there are two races on earth, and their first encounter +brings the clash of drama.</p> + + +<hr class="w45" /> + +<h2>DOWNSTREAM</h2> + +<p class="center">By SIGFRID SIWERTZ<br /> +<span class="smaller">Translated by E. CLASSEN</span></p> + +<ul class="center inline"> +<li class="italic">Crown 8vo</li> +<li class="italic">Cloth</li> +<li>7s. 6d. net</li></ul> + +<p>This is the story of a family of brothers and sisters, +the Selambs, neglected in childhood and left to grow +up under chance influences. "Selambshof," the decayed +family home, is in the neighbourhood of Stockholm, and +the growth of the capital gives it an enhanced value +which is not without its influence on the destinies of +the family. The author has traced the adventures and +development of these highly individualised Selambs in +a way that makes this one of the most absorbing novels +produced in recent years.</p> + +<p>Sigfrid Siwertz has rapidly come to the front among +Swedish novelists, and this, his most important work to +date, has firmly established him in the first rank.</p> + + +<div class="trnote"> +<h2><a name="trcorrections" id="trcorrections"></a>Transcriber's corrections</h2> +<ul> +<li><a href="#TC_1">p. 74</a>: what the critics say. If[It] it's good, why, I give in; if</li> +<li><a href="#TC_2">p. 90</a>: like that; no, we must get our[out] old friend Bianca to</li> +<li><a href="#TC_3">p. 122</a>: better. Now, where's your[you] bill?"</li> +<li><a href="#TC_4">p. 136</a>: "Mrs. Emilie Rantzau and daughter[daugher]: Knut G. Holm</li> +<li><a href="#TC_5">p. 156</a>: on at the dance. Thor Smith nudged his friend surreptitiously[surreptitously]</li> +<li><a href="#TC_6">p. 191</a>: From early morning the committee was[were] abroad,</li> +<li><a href="#TC_7">p. 199</a>: Lacked neither meat nor[not] mirth,</li> +<li><a href="#TC_8">p. 260</a>: this respect, counting as yet[get] not a single steamer. It</li> +</ul> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Dry Fish and Wet, by +Anthon Bernhard Elias Nilsen + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DRY FISH AND WET *** + +***** This file should be named 35918-h.htm or 35918-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/9/1/35918/ + +Produced by Bryan Ness and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +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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