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diff --git a/41414-8.txt b/41414-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 241f1da..0000000 --- a/41414-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6397 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Girl From the Marsh Croft, by Selma Lagerlöf - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The Girl From the Marsh Croft - -Author: Selma Lagerlöf - -Translator: Velma Swanston Howard - -Release Date: November 20, 2012 [EBook #41414] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRL FROM THE MARSH CROFT *** - - - - -Produced by sp1nd, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - - - The Girl From the Marsh Croft - - By Selma Lagerlöf - - Author of "The Story of Gösta Berling," "The Miracles of - Antichrist," "Invisible Links," etc. - - - _Translated from the Swedish_ - By Velma Swanston Howard - - GARDEN CITY NEW YORK - DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY - 1916 - - _Copyright, 1910, by_ - DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY - - _All rights reserved, including that of - translation into foreign languages._ - - - - -PREFATORY NOTE - - -Readers of Miss Lagerlöf will observe that in this, her latest book, -"The Girl from the Marsh Croft," the Swedish author has abandoned her -former world of Romanticism and has entered the field of Naturalism and -Realism. - -This writer's romantic style is most marked, perhaps, in her first -successful work, "Gösta Berling." - -How "The Story of Gösta Berling" grew, and the years required to perfect -it, is told in the author's unique literary autobiography, "The Story of -a Story," which is embodied in the present volume. - -In "The Girl from the Marsh Croft" Miss Lagerlöf has courageously chosen -a girl who had gone astray as the heroine of her love story, making her -innate honesty and goodness the redemptive qualities which win for her -the love of an honest man and the respect and esteem of all. - -To the kindness of the publishers of _Good Housekeeping_, I am indebted -for permission to include "The Legend of the Christmas Rose" in this -volume. - -This book is translated and published with the sanction of the author, -Selma Lagerlöf. - - - - -CONTENTS - - -I. THE GIRL FROM THE MARSH CROFT 3 - -II. THE SILVER MINE 99 - -III. THE AIRSHIP 125 - -IV. THE WEDDING MARCH 163 - -V. THE MUSICIAN 173 - -VI. THE LEGEND OF THE CHRISTMAS ROSE 189 - -VII. A STORY FROM JERUSALEM 219 - -VIII. WHY THE POPE LIVED TO BE SO OLD 235 - -IX. THE STORY OF A STORY 257 - - - - -The Girl from the Marsh Croft - - -I - -It took place in the court room of a rural district. At the head of the -Judges' table sits an old Judge--a tall and massively built man, with a -broad, rough-hewn visage. For several hours he has been engaged in -deciding one case after another, and finally something like disgust and -melancholy has taken hold of him. It is difficult to know if it is the -heat and closeness of the court room that are torturing him or if he has -become low-spirited from handling all these petty wrangles, which seem -to spring from no other cause than to bear witness to people's -quarrel-mania, uncharitableness, and greed. - -He has just begun on one of the last cases to be tried during the day. -It concerns a plea for help in the rearing of a child. - -This case had already been tried at the last Court Session, and the -protocols of the former suit are being read; therefore one learns that -the plaintiff is a poor farmer's daughter and the defendant is a married -man. - -Moreover, it says in the protocol, the defendant maintains that the -plaintiff has wrongfully, unjustly, and only with the desire of -profiting thereby, sued the defendant. He admits that at one time the -plaintiff had been employed in his household, but that during her stay -in his home he had not carried on any intrigue with her, and she has no -right to demand assistance from him. The plaintiff still holds firmly to -her claim, and after a few witnesses have been heard, the defendant is -called to take the oath and show cause why he should not be sentenced by -the Court to assist the plaintiff. - -Both parties have come up and are standing, side by side, before the -Judges' table. The plaintiff is very young and looks frightened to -death. She is weeping from shyness and with difficulty wipes away the -tears with a crumpled handkerchief, which she doesn't seem to know how -to open out. She wears black clothes, which are quite new and whole, but -they fit so badly that one is tempted to think she has borrowed them in -order to appear before the Court of Justice in a befitting manner. - -As regards the defendant, one sees at a glance that he is a prosperous -man. He is about forty and has a bold and dashing appearance. As he -stands before the Court, he has a very good bearing. One can see that he -does not think it a pleasure to stand there, but he doesn't appear to be -the least concerned about it. - -As soon as the protocols have been read, the Judge turns to the -defendant and asks him if he holds fast to his denials and if he is -prepared to take the oath. - -To these questions the defendant promptly answers a curt yes. He digs -down in his vest pocket and takes out a statement from the clergyman who -attests that he understands the meaning and import of the oath and is -qualified to take it. - -All through this the plaintiff has been weeping. She appears to be -unconquerably bashful, and doggedly keeps her eyes fixed upon the floor. -Thus far she has not raised her eyes sufficiently to look the defendant -in the face. - -As he utters his "yes," she starts back. She moves a step or two nearer -the Court, as if she had something to say to the contrary, and then she -stands there perplexed. It is hardly possible, she seems to say to -herself; he cannot have answered yes. I have heard wrongly. - -Meanwhile the Judge takes the clergyman's paper and motions to the court -officer. The latter goes up to the table to find the Bible, which lies -hidden under a pile of records, and lays it down in front of the -defendant. - -The plaintiff hears that some one is walking past her and becomes -restless. She forces herself to raise her eyes just enough to cast a -glance over the table, and she sees then how the court officer moves the -Bible. - -Again it appears as though she wished to raise some objection, and again -she controls herself. It isn't possible that he will be allowed to take -the oath. Surely the Judge must prevent him! - -The Judge is a wise man and knows how people in her home district think -and feel. He knew, very likely, how severe all people were as soon as -there was anything which affected the marriage relation. They knew of no -worse sin than the one she had committed. Would she ever have confessed -anything like this about herself if it were not true? The Judge must -understand the awful contempt that she had brought down upon herself, -and not contempt only, but all sorts of misery. No one wanted her in -service--no one wanted her work. Her own parents could scarcely tolerate -her presence in their cabin and talked all the while of casting her out. -Oh, the Judge must know that she would never have asked for help from a -married man had she no right to it. - -Surely the Judge could not believe that she lied in a case like this; -that she would have called down upon herself such a terrible misfortune -if she had had any one else to accuse than a married man. And if he -knows this, he must stop the oath-taking. - -She sees that the Judge reads through the clergyman's statements a -couple of times and she begins to think he intends to interfere. - -True, the Judge has a wary look. Now he shifts his glance to the -plaintiff, and with that his weariness and disgust become even more -marked. It appears as though he were unfavorably disposed toward her. -Even if the plaintiff is telling the truth, she is nevertheless a bad -woman and the Judge cannot feel any sympathy for her. - -Sometimes the Judge interposes in a case, like a good and wise -counsellor, and keeps the parties from ruining themselves entirely. But -to-day he is tired and cross and thinks only of letting the legal -process have its course. - -He lays down the clergyman's recommendation and says a few words to the -defendant to the effect that he hopes he has carefully considered the -consequences of a perjured oath. The defendant listens to him with the -calm air which he has shown all the while, and he answers respectfully -and not without dignity. - -The plaintiff listens to this in extreme terror. She makes a few -vehement protests and wrings her hands. Now she wants to speak to the -Court. She struggles frightfully with her shyness and with the sobs -which prevent her speaking. The result is that she cannot get out an -audible word. - -Then the oath will be taken! She must give it up. No one will prevent -him from swearing away his soul. - -Until now, she could not believe this possible. But now she is seized -with the certainty that it is close at hand--that it will occur the next -second. A fear more overpowering than any she has hitherto felt takes -possession of her. She is absolutely paralyzed. She does not even weep -more. Her eyes are glazed. It is his intention, then, to bring down upon -himself eternal punishment. - -She comprehends that he wants to swear himself free for the sake of his -wife. But even if the truth were to make trouble in his home, he should -not for that reason throw away his soul's salvation. - -There is nothing so terrible as perjury. There is something uncanny and -awful about that sin. There is no mercy or condonation for it. The gates -of the infernal regions open of their own accord when the perjurer's -name is mentioned. - -If she had then raised her eyes to his face, she would have been afraid -of seeing it stamped with damnation's mark, branded by the wrath of God. - -As she stands there and works herself into greater and greater terror, -the Judge instructs the defendant as to how he must place his fingers on -the Bible. Then the Judge opens the law book to find the form of the -oath. - -As she sees him place his fingers on the book, she comes a step nearer, -and it appears as though she wished to reach across the table and push -his hand away. - -But as yet she is restrained by a faint hope. She thinks he will relent -now--at the last moment. - -The Judge has found the place in the law book, and now he begins to -administer the oath loudly and distinctly. Then he makes a pause for the -defendant to repeat his words. The defendant actually starts to repeat, -but he stumbles over the words, and the Judge must begin again from the -beginning. - -Now she can no longer entertain a trace of hope. She knows now that he -means to swear falsely--that he means to bring down upon himself the -wrath of God, both for this life and for the life to come. - -She stands wringing her hands in her helplessness. And it is all her -fault because she has accused him! But she was without work; she was -starving and freezing; the child came near dying. To whom else should -she turn for help? Never had she thought that he would be willing to -commit such an execrable sin. - -The Judge has again administered the oath. In a few seconds the thing -will have been done: the kind of thing from which there is no turning -back--which can never be retrieved, never blotted out. - -Just as the defendant begins to repeat the oath, she rushes forward, -sweeps away his outstretched hand, and seizes the Bible. - -It is her terrible dread which has finally given her courage. He must -not swear away his soul; he must not! - -The court officer hastens forward instantly to take the Bible from her -and to bring her to order. She has a boundless fear of all that pertains -to a Court of Justice and actually believes that what she has just done -will bring her to prison; but she does not let go her hold on the Bible. -Cost what it may, he cannot take the oath. He who would swear also runs -up to take the Bible, but she resists him too. - -"You shall not take the oath!" she cries, "you shall not!" - -That which is happening naturally awakens the greatest surprise. The -court attendants elbow their way up to the bar, the jurymen start to -rise, the recording clerk jumps up with the ink bottle in his hand to -prevent its being upset. - -Then the Judge shouts in a loud and angry tone, "Silence!" and everybody -stands perfectly still. - -"What is the matter with you? What business have you with the Bible?" -the Judge asks the plaintiff in the same hard and severe tone. - -Since, with the courage of despair, she has been able to give utterance -to her distress, her anxiety has decreased so that she can answer, "He -must not take the oath!" - -"Be silent, and put back the book!" demands the Judge. - -She does not obey, but holds the book tightly with both hands. "He -cannot take the oath!" she cries fiercely. - -"Are you so determined to win your suit?" asks the Judge sharply. - -"I want to withdraw the suit," she shrieks in a high, shrill voice. "I -don't want to force him to swear." - -"What are you shrieking about?" demands the Judge. "Have you lost your -senses?" - -She catches her breath suddenly and tries to control herself. She hears -herself how she is shrieking. The Judge will think she has gone mad if -she cannot say what she would say calmly. She struggles with herself -again to get control of her voice, and this time she succeeds. She says -slowly, earnestly, and clearly, as she looks the Judge in the face: "I -wish to withdraw the suit. He is the father of the child. I am still -fond of him. I don't wish him to swear falsely." - -She stands erect and resolute, facing the Judges' table, all the while -looking the Judge square in the face. He sits with both hands resting on -the table and for a long while does not take his eyes off from her. -While the Judge is looking at her, a great change comes over him. All -the ennui and displeasure in his face vanishes, and the large, -rough-hewn visage becomes beautiful with the most beautiful emotion. -"Ah, see!" he thinks--"Ah, see! such is the mettle of my people. I shall -not be vexed at them when there is so much love and godliness even in -one of the humblest." - -Suddenly the Judge feels his eyes fill up with tears; then he pulls -himself together, almost ashamed, and casts a hasty glance about him. He -sees that the clerks and bailiffs and the whole long row of jurymen are -leaning forward and looking at the girl who stands before the Judges' -table with the Bible hugged close to her. And he sees a light in their -faces, as though they had seen something very beautiful, which had made -them happy all the way into their souls. - -Then the Judge casts a glance over the spectators, and he sees that they -all breathe a quick sigh of relief, as if they had just heard what they -had longed above everything to hear. - -Finally, the Judge looks at the defendant. Now it is _he_ who stands -with lowered head and looks at the floor. - -The Judge turns once more to the poor girl. "It shall be as you wish," -he says. "The case shall be stricken from the Calendar,"--this to the -recording clerk. - -The defendant makes a move, as though he wished to interpose an -objection. "Well, what now?" the Judge bellows at him. "Have you -anything against it?" - -The defendant's head hangs lower and lower, and he says, almost -inaudibly, "Oh, no, I dare say it is best to let it go that way." - -The Judge sits still a moment more, and then he pushes the heavy chair -back, rises, and walks around the table and up to the plaintiff. - -"Thank you!" he says and gives her his hand. - -She has laid down the Bible and stands wiping away the tears with the -crumpled up handkerchief. - -"Thank you!" says the Judge once more, taking her hand and shaking it as -if it belonged to a real man's man. - - -II - -Let no one imagine that the girl who had passed through such a trying -ordeal at the bar of justice thought that she had done anything -praiseworthy! On the contrary, she considered herself disgraced before -the whole court room. She did not understand that there was something -honorable in the fact that the Judge had gone over and shaken hands with -her. She thought it simply meant that the trial was over and that she -might go her way. - -Nor did she observe that people gave her kindly glances and that there -were several who wanted to press her hand. She stole by and wanted only -to go. There was a crush at the door. The court was over and many in -their hurry to get out made a rush for the door. She drew aside and was -about the last person to leave the court room because she felt that -every one else ought to go before her. - -When she finally came out, Gudmund Erlandsson's cart stood in waiting at -the door. Gudmund was seated in the cart, holding the reins, and was -apparently waiting for some one. As soon as he saw her among all the -people who poured out of the court room, he called to her: "Come here, -Helga! You can ride with me since we are going in the same direction." - -Although she heard her name, she could not believe that it was she whom -he was calling. It was not possible that Gudmund Erlandsson wanted to -ride with her. He was the most attractive man in the whole parish, young -and handsome and of good family connections and popular with every one. -She could not imagine that he wished to associate with her. - -She was walking with the head shawl drawn far down on her forehead, and -was hastening past him without either glancing up or answering. - -"Don't you hear, Helga, that you can ride with me?" said Gudmund, and -there was a friendly note in his voice. But she couldn't grasp that -Gudmund meant well by her. She thought that, in one way or another, he -wished to make sport of her and was only waiting for those who stood -near by to begin tittering and laughing. She cast a frightened and -indignant glance at him, and almost ran from the Court House grounds to -be out of earshot when the laughter should start in. - -Gudmund was unmarried at that time and lived at home with his parents. -His father was a farm-owner. His was not a large farm and he was not -rich, but he made a good living. The son had gone to the Court House to -fetch some deeds for his father, but as there was also another purpose -in the trip, he had groomed himself carefully. He had taken the -brand-new trap with not a crack in the lacquering, had rubbed up the -harness and curried the horse until he shone like satin. He had placed a -bright red blanket on the seat beside him, and himself he had adorned -with a short hunting-jacket, a small gray felt hat, and top boots, into -which the trousers were tucked. This was no holiday attire, but he -probably knew that he looked handsome and manly. - -Gudmund was seated alone in the cart when he drove from home in the -morning, but he had agreeable things to think of and the time had not -seemed long to him. When he had arrived about half-way, he came across -a poor young girl who was walking very slowly and looked as though she -were scarcely able to move her feet because of exhaustion. It was autumn -and the road was rain-soaked, and Gudmund saw how, with every step, she -sank deeper into the mud. He stopped and asked where she was going. When -he learned that she was on her way to the Court House, he invited her to -ride. She thanked him and stepped up on the back of the cart to the -narrow board where the hay sack was tied, as though she dared not touch -the red blanket beside Gudmund. Nor was it his meaning that she should -sit beside him. He didn't know who she was, but he supposed her to be -the daughter of some poor backwoodsman and thought the rear of the cart -was quite good enough for her. - -When they came to a steep hill and the horse began to slow up, Gudmund -started talking. He wanted to know her name and where she was from. When -he learned that her name was Helga, and that she came from a backwoods -farm called Big Marsh, he began to feel uneasy. "Have you always lived -at home on the farm or have you been out to service?" he asked. - -The past year she had been at home, but before this she had been working -out. - -"Where?" asked Gudmund hastily. - -He thought it was a long while before the answer was forthcoming. "At -the West Farm, with Per Mårtensson," she said finally, sinking her voice -as if she would rather not have been heard. - -But Gudmund heard her. "Indeed! Then it is you who--" said he, but did -not conclude his meaning. He turned from her, and sat up straight in his -seat and said not another word to her. - -Gudmund gave the horse rap upon rap and talked loudly to himself about -the wretched condition of the road and was in a very bad humor. - -The girl sat still for a moment; presently Gudmund felt her hand upon -his arm. "What do you wish?" he asked without turning his head. - -Oh, he was to stop, so she could jump out. - -"Why so?" sneered Gudmund. "Aren't you riding comfortably?" - -"Yes, thank you, but I prefer to walk." - -Gudmund struggled a little with himself. It was provoking that he should -have bidden a person of Helga's sort to ride with him to-day of all -days! But he thought also that since he had taken her into the wagon, -he could not drive her out. - -"Stop, Gudmund!" said the girl once again. She spoke in a very decided -tone, and Gudmund drew in the reins. - -"It is she, of course, who wishes to step down," thought he. "I don't -have to force her to ride against her will." - -She was down on the road before the horse had time to stop. "I thought -you knew who I was when you asked me to ride," she said, "or I should -not have stepped into the cart." - -Gudmund muttered a short good-bye and drove on. She was doubtless right -in thinking that he knew her. He had seen the girl from the marsh croft -many times as a child, but she had changed since she was grown up. At -first he was very glad to be rid of the travelling companion, but -gradually he began to feel displeased with himself. He could hardly have -acted differently, yet he did not like being cruel to any one. - -Shortly after Gudmund had parted from Helga, he turned out of the road -and up a narrow street, and came to a large and fine estate. As Gudmund -drew up before the gate, the house door opened and one of the daughters -appeared. - -Gudmund raised his hat; at the same time a faint flush covered his face. -"Wonder if the Juryman is at home?" said he. - -"No, father has gone down to the Court House," replied the daughter. - -"Oh, then he has already gone," said Gudmund. "I drove over to ask if -the Juryman would ride with me. I'm going to the Court House." - -"Father is always so punctual!" bewailed the daughter. - -"It doesn't matter," said Gudmund. - -"Father would have been pleased, I dare say, to ride behind such a fine -horse and in such a pretty cart as you have," remarked the girl -pleasantly. - -Gudmund smiled a little when he heard this commendation. - -"Well, then, I must be off again," said he. - -"Won't you step in, Gudmund?" - -"Thank you, Hildur, but I'm going to the Court House, you know. It won't -do for me to be late." - -Now Gudmund takes the direct road to the Court House. He was very well -pleased with himself and thought no more of his meeting with Helga. It -was fortunate that only Hildur had come out on the porch and that she -had seen the cart and blanket, the horse and harness. She had probably -taken note of everything. - -This was the first time Gudmund had attended a Court. He thought that -there was much to see and learn, and remained the whole day. He was -sitting in the court room when Helga's case came up; saw how she -snatched the Bible and hugged it close, and saw how she defied both -court attendants and Judge. When it was all over and the Judge had -shaken hands with Helga, Gudmund rose quickly and went out. He hurriedly -hitched the horse to the cart and drove up to the steps. He thought -Helga had been brave, and now he wished to honor her. But she was so -frightened that she did not understand his purpose, and stole away from -his intended honor. - -The same day Gudmund came to the marsh croft late in the evening. It was -a little croft, which lay at the base of the forest ridge that enclosed -the parish. The road leading thither was passable for a horse only in -winter, and Gudmund had to go there on foot. It was difficult for him to -find his way. He came near breaking his legs on stumps and stones, and -he had to wade through brooks which crossed the path in several places. -Had it not been for the bright moonlight, he could not have found his -way to the croft. He thought it was a very hard road that Helga had to -tramp this day. - -Big Marsh croft lay on the clearing about half-way up the ridge. Gudmund -had never been there before, but he had often seen the place from the -valley and was sufficiently familiar with it to know that he had gone -aright. - -All around the clearing lay a hedge of brushwood, which was very thick -and difficult to get through. It was probably meant to be a kind of -defence and protection against the whole wilderness that surrounded the -croft. The cabin stood at the upper edge of the enclosure. Before it -stretched a sloping house-yard covered with short, thick grass; and -below the yard lay a couple of gray outhouses and a larder with a -moss-covered roof. It was a poor and humble place, but one couldn't deny -that it was picturesque up there. The marsh, from which the croft had -derived its name, lay somewhere near and sent forth mists which rose, -beautiful, splendid, and silvery, in the moonlight, forming a halo -around the marsh. The highest peak of the mountain loomed above the -mist, and the ridge, prickly with pines, was sharply outlined against -the horizon. Over the valley shone the moon. It was so light that one -could distinguish fields and orchards and a winding brook, over which -the mists curled, like the faintest smoke. It was not very far down -there, but the peculiar thing was that the valley lay like a world -apart, with which the forest and all that belonged to it seemed to have -nothing in common. It was as if the people who lived here in the forest -must ever remain under the shadow of these trees. They might find it -quite as hard to feel contented down in the valley as woodcock and -eagle-owl and lynx and star-flowers. - -Gudmund tramped across the open grass-plot and up to the cabin. There a -gleam of firelight streamed through the window. As there were no shades -at the windows, he peeped into the cabin to see if Helga was there. A -small lamp burned on the table near the window, and there sat the master -of the house, mending old shoes. The mistress was seated farther back in -the room, close to the fireplace, where a slow fire burned. The -spinning-wheel was before her, but she had paused in her work to play -with a little child. She had taken it up from the cradle, and Gudmund -heard how she prattled to it. Her face was lined and wrinkled and she -looked severe. But, as she bent over the child, she had a mild -expression and she smiled as tenderly at the little one as his own -mother might have done. - -Gudmund peered in, but could not see Helga in any corner of the cabin. -Then he thought it was best to remain outside until she came. He was -surprised that she had not reached home. Perhaps she had stopped on the -way somewhere to see an acquaintance and to get some food and rest? At -all events, she would have to come back soon if she wished to be indoors -before it was very late at night. - -Gudmund stood still a moment and listened for footsteps. He thought that -never before had he sensed such stillness. It was as though the whole -forest held its breath and stood waiting for something extraordinary to -happen. - -No one tramped in the forest, no branch was broken, and no stone rolled -down. - -"Surely, Helga won't be long in coming! I wonder what she will say when -she sees that I'm here?" thought Gudmund. "Perhaps she will scream and -rush into the forest and will not dare come home the whole night!" - -At the same time it struck him as rather strange that now, all of a -sudden, he had so much business with that marsh croft girl! - -On his return from the Court House to his home, he had, as usual, gone -to his mother to relate his experiences of the day. Gudmund's mother was -a sensible and broad-minded woman who had always understood how to treat -her son, and he had as much confidence in her now as when he was a -child. She had been an invalid for several years and could not walk, but -sat all day in her chair. It was always a good hour for her when Gudmund -came home from an outing and brought her the news. - -When Gudmund had told his mother about Helga from Big Marsh, he observed -that she became thoughtful. For a long while she sat quietly and looked -straight ahead. "There seems to be something good in that girl still," -she remarked. "It will never do to condemn a person because she has once -met with misfortune. She might be very grateful to any one who helped -her now." - -Gudmund apprehended at once what his mother was thinking of. She could -no longer help herself, but must have some one near her continually, and -it was always difficult to find anybody who cared to remain in that -capacity. His mother was exacting and not easy to get on with, and, -moreover, all young folk preferred other work where they could have more -freedom. Now, it must have occurred to his mother that she ought to take -Helga from Big Marsh into her service, and Gudmund thought this a -capital idea. Helga would certainly be very devoted to his mother. - -"It will be hard for the child," remarked the mother after a little, and -Gudmund understood that she was thinking seriously of the matter. - -"Surely the parents would let it stay with them?" said Gudmund. - -"It does not follow that she wants to part with it." - -"She will have to give up thinking of what she wants or doesn't want. I -thought that she looked starved out. They can't have much to eat at the -croft," said the son. - -To this his mother made no reply, but began to talk of something else. -It was evident that some new misgivings had come to her, which hindered -her from coming to a decision. - -Then Gudmund told her of how he had found a pretext for calling at the -Juryman's at Älvåkra and had met Hildur. He mentioned what she had said -of the horse and wagon, and it was easily seen that he was pleased with -the meeting. His mother was also very much pleased. Where she sat in the -cottage, unable to move from her chair, it was her constant occupation -to spin plans for her son's future, and it was she who had first hit -upon the idea that he should try and set his cap for the pretty daughter -of the Juryman. It was the finest match he could make. - -The Juryman was a yeoman farmer. He owned the largest farm in the parish -and had much money and power. It was really absurd to hope that he would -be satisfied with a son-in-law with no more wealth than Gudmund, but it -was also possible that he would conform to his daughter's wishes. That -Gudmund could win Hildur if he so wished, his mother was certain. - -This was the first time Gudmund had betrayed to his mother that her -thought had taken root in him, and they talked long of Hildur and of all -the riches and advantages that would come to the chosen one. Soon there -was another lull in the conversation, for his mother was again absorbed -in her thoughts. "Couldn't you send for this Helga? I should like to see -her before taking her into my service," said the mother finally. - -"It is well, mother, that you wish to take her under your wing," -remarked Gudmund, thinking to himself that if his mother had a nurse -with whom she was satisfied, his wife would have a pleasanter life here. -"You'll see that you will be pleased with the girl," he continued. - -"Then, too, it would be a good deed to take her in hand," added the -mother. - -As it grew dusk, the invalid retired, and Gudmund went out to the -stable to tend the horses. It was beautiful weather, with a clear -atmosphere, and the whole tract lay bathed in moonlight. It occurred to -him that he ought to go to Big Marsh to-night and convey his mother's -greeting. If the weather should continue clear on the morrow, he would -be so busy taking in oats that neither he nor any one else would find -time to go there. - -Now that Gudmund was standing outside the cabin at Big Marsh croft -listening, he certainly heard no footsteps. But there were other sounds -which at short intervals pierced through the stillness. He heard a soft -weeping, a very low and smothered moaning, with now and then a sob. -Gudmund thought that the sounds came from the outhouse lane, and he -walked toward it. As he was nearing, the sobs ceased; but it was evident -that some one moved in the woodshed. Gudmund seemed to comprehend -instantly who was there. "Is it you, Helga, who sit here and weep?" -asked Gudmund, placing himself in the doorway so that the girl could not -rush away before he had spoken with her. - -Again it was perfectly still. Gudmund had guessed rightly that it was -Helga who sat there and wept; but she tried to smother the sobs, so -that Gudmund would think he had heard wrongly and go away. It was pitch -dark in the woodshed, and she knew that he could not see her. - -But Helga was in such despair that evening it was not easy for her to -keep back the sobs. She had not as yet gone into the cabin to see her -parents. She hadn't had the courage to go in. When she trudged up the -steep hill in the twilight and thought of how she must tell her parents -that she was not to receive any assistance from Per Mårtensson in the -rearing of her child, she began to fear all the harsh and cruel things -she felt they would say to her and thought of burying herself in the -swamp. And in her terror she jumped up and tried to rush past Gudmund; -but he was too alert for her. "Oh, no! You sha'n't get by before I have -spoken with you." - -"Only let me go!" she said, looking wildly at him. - -"You look as though you wanted to jump into the river," said he; for now -she was out in the moonlight and he could see her face. - -"Well, what matters it if I did?" said Helga, throwing her head back and -looking him straight in the eye. "This morning you didn't even care to -have me ride on the back of your cart. No one wants to have anything to -do with me! You must surely understand that it is best for a miserable -creature like me to put an end to herself." - -Gudmund did not know what to do next. He wished himself far away, but he -thought, also, that he could not desert a person who was in such -distress. "Listen to me! Only promise that you will listen to what I -have to say to you; afterwards you may go wherever you wish." - -She promised. - -"Is there anything here to sit on?" - -"The chopping-block is over yonder." - -"Then go over there and sit down and be quiet!" - -She went very obediently and seated herself. - -"And don't cry any more!" said he, for he thought he was beginning to -get control over her. But he should not have said this, for immediately -she buried her face in her hands and cried harder than ever. - -"Stop crying!" he said, ready to stamp his foot at her. "There are -those, I dare say, who are worse off than you are." - -"No, no one can be worse off!" - -"You are young and strong. You should see how my mother fares! She is so -wasted from suffering that she cannot move, but she never complains." - -"She is not abandoned by everybody, as I am." - -"You are not abandoned, either. I have spoken with my mother about you." - -There was a pause in the sobs. One heard, as it were, the great -stillness of the forest, which always held its breath and waited for -something wonderful. "I was to say to you that you should come down to -my mother to-morrow that she might see you. Mother thinks of asking if -you would care to take service with us." - -"Did she think of asking _me_?" - -"Yes; but she wants to see you first." - -"Does she know that--" - -"She knows as much about you as all the rest do." - -The girl leaped up with a cry of joy and wonderment, and the next moment -Gudmund felt a pair of arms around his neck. He was thoroughly -frightened, and his first impulse was to break loose and run; but he -calmed himself and stood still. He understood that the girl was so -beside herself with joy that she didn't know what she was doing. At that -moment she could have hugged the worst ruffian, only to find a little -sympathy in the great happiness that had come to her. - -"If she will take me into her service, I can live!" said she, burying -her head on Gudmund's breast and weeping again. "You may know that I was -in earnest when I wished to go down into the swamp," she said. "You -deserve thanks for coming. You have saved my life." Until then Gudmund -had been standing motionless, but now he felt that something tender and -warm was beginning to stir within him. He raised his hand and stroked -her hair. Then she started, as if awakened from a dream, and stood up -straight as a rod before him. "You deserve thanks for coming," she -repeated. She had become flame-red in the face, and he too reddened. - -"Well, then, you will come home to-morrow," he said, putting out his -hand to say good-bye. - -"I shall never forget that you came to me to-night!" said Helga, and her -great gratitude got the mastery over her shyness. - -"Oh, yes, it was well perhaps that I came," he said quite calmly, and he -felt rather pleased with himself. "You will go in now, of course?" - -"Yes, now I shall go in." - -Gudmund suddenly felt himself rather pleased with Helga too--as one -usually is with a person whom one has succeeded in helping. She lingered -and did not want to go. "I would like to see you safely under shelter -before I leave." - -"I thought they might retire before I went in." - -"No, you must go in at once, so that you can have your supper and rest -yourself," said he, thinking it was agreeable to take her in hand. - -She went at once to the cabin, and he accompanied her, pleased and proud -because she obeyed him. - -When she stood on the threshold, they said good-bye to each other again; -but before he had gone two paces, she came after him. "Remain just -outside the door until I am in. It will be easier for me if I know that -you are standing without." - -"Yes," said he, "I shall stand here until you have come over the worst -of it." - -Then Helga opened the cabin door, and Gudmund noticed that she left it -slightly ajar. It was as if she did not wish to feel herself separated -from her helper who stood without. Nor did he feel any compunction about -hearing all that happened within the cabin. - -The old folks nodded pleasantly to Helga as she came in. Her mother -promptly laid the child in the crib, and then went over to the cupboard -and brought out a bowl of milk and a bread cake and placed them on the -table. - -"There! Now sit down and eat," said she. Then she went up to the -fireplace and freshened the fire. "I have kept the fire alive, so you -could dry your feet and warm yourself when you came home. But eat -something first! It is food that you need most." - -All the while Helga had been standing at the door. "You mustn't receive -me so well, mother," she said in a low tone. "I will get no money from -Per. I have renounced his help." - -"There was some one here from the Court House this evening who had been -there and heard how it turned out for you," said the mother. "We know -all." - -Helga was still standing by the door, looking out, as if she knew not -which was in or out. - -Then the farmer put down his work, pushed his spectacles up on his -forehead, and cleared his throat for a speech of which he had been -thinking the whole evening. "It is a fact, Helga," said he, "that mother -and I have always wanted to be decent and honorable folk, but we have -thought that we had been disgraced on your account. It was as though we -had not taught you to distinguish between good and evil. But when we -learned what you did to-day, we said to each other--mother and I--that -now folks could see anyway that you have had a proper bringing up and -right teaching, and we thought that perhaps we might yet be happy in -you. And mother did not want that we should go to bed before you came -that you might have a hearty welcome home." - - -III - -Helga from the marsh croft came to Närlunda, and there all went well. -She was willing and teachable and grateful for every kind word said to -her. She always felt herself to be the humblest of mortals and never -wanted to push herself ahead. It was not long until the household and -the servants were satisfied with her. - -The first days it appeared as if Gudmund was afraid to speak to Helga. -He feared that this croft girl would get notions into her head because -he had come to her assistance. But these were needless worries. Helga -regarded him as altogether too fine and noble for her even to raise her -eyes to. Gudmund soon perceived that he did not have to keep her at a -distance. She was more shy of him than of any one else. - -The autumn that Helga came to Närlunda, Gudmund paid many visits to -Älvåkra, and there was much talk about the good chance he stood of being -the prospective son-in-law of this estate. That the courtship had been -successful all were assured at Christmas. Then the Juryman, with his -wife and daughter, came over to Närlunda, and it was evident that they -had come there to see how Hildur would fare if she married Gudmund. - -This was the first time that Helga saw, at close range, her whom Gudmund -was to marry. Hildur Ericsdotter was not yet twenty, but the marked -thing about her was that no one could look at her without thinking what -a handsome and dignified mistress she would be some day. She was tall -and well built, fair and pretty, and apparently liked to have many about -her to look after. She was never timid; she talked much and seemed to -know everything better than the one with whom she was talking. She had -attended school in the city for a couple of years and wore the prettiest -frocks Helga had ever seen, but yet she didn't impress one as being -showy or vain. Rich and beautiful as she was, she might have married a -gentleman at any time, but she always declared that she did not wish to -be a fine lady and sit with folded hands. She wanted to marry a farmer -and look after her own house, like a real farmer's wife. - -Helga thought Hildur a perfect wonder. Never had she seen any one who -made such a superb appearance. Nor had she ever dreamed that a person -could be so nearly perfect in every particular. To her it seemed a -great joy that in the near future she was to serve such a mistress. - -Everything had gone off well during the Juryman's visit. But whenever -Helga looked back upon that day, she experienced a certain unrest. It -seems that when the visitors had arrived, she had gone around and served -coffee. When she came in with the tray, the Juryman's wife leaned -forward and asked her mistress if she was not the girl from the marsh -croft. She did not lower her voice much, and Helga had distinctly heard -the question. - -Mother Ingeborg answered yes, and then the other had said something -which Helga couldn't hear. But it was to the effect that she thought it -singular they wanted a person of that sort in the house. This caused -Helga many anxious moments. She tried to console herself with the -thought that it was not Hildur, but her mother, who had said this. - -One Sunday in the early spring Helga and Gudmund walked home together -from church. As they came down the slope, they were with the other -church people; but soon one after another dropped off until, finally, -Helga and Gudmund were alone. - -Then Gudmund happened to think that he had not been alone with Helga -since that night at the croft, and the memory of that night came -forcibly back to him. He had thought of their first meeting often enough -during the winter, and with it he had always felt something sweet and -pleasant thrill through his senses. As he went about his work, he would -call forth in thought that whole beautiful evening: the white mist, the -bright moonlight, the dark forest heights, the light valley, and the -girl who had thrown her arms round his neck and wept for joy. The whole -incident became more beautiful each time that it recurred to his memory. -But when Gudmund saw Helga going about among the others at home, toiling -and slaving, it was hard for him to think that it was she who had shared -in this. Now that he was walking alone with her on the church slope, he -couldn't help wishing for a moment that she would be the same girl she -was on that evening. - -Helga began immediately to speak of Hildur. She praised her much: said -she was the prettiest and most sensible girl in the whole parish, and -congratulated Gudmund because he would have such an excellent wife. "You -must tell her to let me remain always at Närlunda," she said. "It will -be a pleasure to work for a mistress like her." - -Gudmund smiled at her enthusiasm, but answered only in monosyllables, as -though he did not exactly follow her. It was well, of course, that she -was so fond of Hildur, and so happy because he was going to be married. - -"You have been content to be with us this winter?" he asked. - -"Indeed I have! I cannot begin to tell you how kind mother Ingeborg and -all of you have been to me!" - -"Have you not been homesick for the forest?" - -"Oh, yes, in the beginning, but not now any more." - -"I thought that one who belonged to the forest could not help yearning -for it." - -Helga turned half round and looked at him, who walked on the other side -of the road. Gudmund had become almost a stranger to her; but now there -was something in his voice, his smile, that was familiar. Yes, he was -the same man who had come to her and saved her in her greatest distress. -Although he was to marry another, she was certain that he wanted to be a -good friend to her, and a faithful helper. - -She was very happy to feel that she could confide in him, as in none -other, and thought that she must tell him of all that had happened to -her since they last talked together. "I must tell you that it was rather -hard for me the first weeks at Närlunda," she began. "But you mustn't -speak of this to your mother." - -"If you want me to be silent, I'll be silent." - -"Fancy! I was so homesick in the beginning that I was about to go back -to the forest." - -"Were you homesick? I thought you were glad to be with us." - -"I simply could not help it," she said apologetically. "I understood, of -course, how well it was for me to be here; you were all so good to me, -and the work was not so hard but that I could manage with it, but I was -homesick nevertheless. There was something that took hold of me and -wanted to draw me back to the forest. I thought that I was deserting and -betraying some one who had a right to me, when I wanted to stay here in -the village." - -"It was perhaps--" began Gudmund, but checked himself. - -"No, it was not the boy I longed for. I knew that he was well cared for -and that mother was kind to him. It was nothing in particular. I felt as -though I were a wild bird that had been caged, and I thought I should -die if I were not let out." - -"To think that you had such a hard time of it!" said Gudmund smiling, -for now, all at once, he recognized her. Now it was as if nothing had -come between them, but that they had parted at the forest farm the -evening before. - -Helga smiled again, but continued to speak of her torments. "I didn't -sleep a single night," said she, "and as soon as I went to bed, the -tears started to flow, and when I got up of a morning, the pillow was -wet through. In the daytime, when I went about among all of you, I could -keep back the tears, but as soon as I was alone my eyes would fill up." - -"You have wept much in your time," said Gudmund without looking the -least bit sympathetic as he pronounced the words. - -Helga thought that he was laughing to himself all the while. "You surely -don't comprehend how hard it was for me!" she said, speaking faster and -faster in her effort to make him understand her. "A great longing took -possession of me and carried me out of myself. Not for a moment could I -feel happy! Nothing was beautiful, nothing was a pleasure; not a human -being could I become attached to. You all remained just as strange to me -as you were the first time I entered the house." - -"But didn't you say a moment ago that you wished to remain with us?" -said Gudmund wonderingly. - -"Of course I did!" - -"Then, surely, you are not homesick now?" - -"No, it has passed over. I have been cured. Wait, and you shall hear!" - -As she said this, Gudmund crossed to the other side of the road and -walked beside her, laughing to himself all the while. He seemed glad to -hear her speak, but probably he didn't attach much importance to what -she was relating. Gradually Helga took on his mood, and she thought -everything was becoming easy and light. The church road was long and -difficult to walk, but to-day she was not tired. There was something -that carried her. She continued with her story because she had begun it, -but it was no longer of much importance to her to speak. It would have -been quite as agreeable to her if she might have walked silently beside -him. - -"When I was the most unhappy," she said, "I asked mother Ingeborg one -Saturday evening to let me go home and remain over Sunday. And that -evening, as I tramped over the hills to the marsh, I believed positively -that I should never again go back to Närlunda. But at home father and -mother were so happy because I had found service with good and -respectable people, that I didn't dare tell them I could not endure -remaining with you. Then, too, as soon as I came up into the forest all -the anguish and pain vanished entirely. I thought the whole thing had -been only a fancy. And then it was so difficult about the child. Mother -had become attached to the boy and had made him her own. He wasn't mine -any more. And it was well thus, but it was hard to get used to." - -"Perhaps you began to be homesick for us?" blurted Gudmund. - -"Oh, no! On Monday morning, as I awoke and thought of having to return -to you, the longing came over me again. I lay crying and fretting -because the only right and proper thing for me to do was to go back to -Närlunda. But I felt all the same as though I were going to be ill or -lose my senses if I went back. Suddenly I remembered having once heard -some one say that if one took some ashes from the hearth in one's own -home and strewed them on the fire in the strange place, one would be rid -of homesickness." - -"Then it was a remedy that was easy to take," said Gudmund. - -"Yes, but it was supposed to have this effect also: afterwards one could -never be content in any other place. If one were to move from the -homestead to which one had borne the ashes, one must long to get back -there again just as much as one had longed before to get away from -there." - -"Couldn't one carry ashes along wherever one moved to?" - -"No, it can't be done more than once. Afterwards there is no turning -back, so it was a great risk to try anything like that." - -"I shouldn't have taken chances on a thing of that kind," said Gudmund, -and she could hear that he was laughing at her. - -"But I dared, all the same," retorted Helga. "It was better than having -to appear as an ingrate in your mother's eyes and in yours, when you had -tried to help me. I brought a little ashes from home, and when I got -back to Närlunda I watched my opportunity, when no one was in, and -scattered the ashes over the hearth." - -"And now you believe it is ashes that have helped you?" - -"Wait, and you shall hear how it turned out! Immediately I became -absorbed in my work and thought no more about the ashes all that day. I -grieved exactly as before and was just as weary of everything as I had -been. There was much to be done that day, both in the house and out of -it, and when I finished with the evening's milking and was going in, the -fire on the hearth was already lighted." - -"Now I'm very curious to hear what happened," said Gudmund. - -"Think! Already, as I was crossing the house yard, I thought there was -something familiar in the gleam from the fire, and when I opened the -door, it flashed across my mind that I was going into our own cabin and -that father and mother would be sitting by the hearth. This flew past -like a dream, but when I came in, I was surprised that it looked so -pretty and homelike in the cottage. To me your mother and the rest of -you had never appeared as pleasant as you did in the firelight. It -seemed really good to come in, and this was not so before. I was so -astonished that I could hardly keep from clapping my hands and shouting. -I thought you were all so changed. You were no longer strangers to me -and I could talk to you about all sorts of things. You can understand, -of course, that I was happy, but I couldn't help being astonished. I -wondered if I had been bewitched, and then I remembered the ashes I had -strewn over the hearth." - -"Yes, it was marvellous," said Gudmund. He did not believe the least -little bit in witchcraft and was not at all superstitious; but he didn't -dislike hearing Helga talk of such things. "Now the wild forest girl has -returned," thought he. "Can anybody comprehend how one who has passed -through all that she has can still be so childish?" - -"Of course it was wonderful!" said Helga. "And the same thing has been -coming back all winter. As soon as the fire on the hearth was burning, I -felt the same confidence and security as if I had been at home. But -there must be something extraordinary about this fire--not with any -other kind of fire, perhaps--only that which burns on a hearth, with all -the household gathered around it, night after night. It gets sort of -acquainted with one. It plays and dances for one and talks to one, and -sometimes it is ill-humored. It is as if it had the power to create -comfort and discomfort. I thought now that the fire from home had come -to me and that it gave the same glow of pleasure to every one here that -it had done back home." - -"What if you had to leave Närlunda?" said Gudmund. - -"Then I must long to come back again all my life," said she. And the -quiver in her voice betrayed that this was spoken in profound -seriousness. - -"Well, I shall not be the one to drive you away!" said Gudmund. Although -he was laughing, there was something warm in his tone. - -They started no new subject of conversation, but walked on in silence -until they came to the homestead. Now and then Gudmund turned his head -to look at her who was walking at his side. She had gathered strength -after her hard time of the year before. Her features were delicate and -refined; her hair was like an aureole around her head, and her eyes were -not easy to read. Her step was light and elastic, and when she spoke, -the words came readily, yet modestly. She was afraid of being laughed -at, still she had to speak out what was in her heart. - -Gudmund wondered if he wished Hildur to be like this, but he probably -didn't. This Helga would be nothing special to marry. - -A fortnight later Helga heard that she must leave Närlunda in April -because Hildur Ericsdotter would not live under the same roof with her. -The master and mistress of the house did not say this in so many words, -but the mistress hinted that when the new daughter-in-law came, they -would in all probability get so much help from her they would not -require so many servants. On another occasion she said she had heard of -a good place where Helga would fare better than with them. - -It was not necessary for Helga to hear anything further to understand -that she must leave, and she immediately announced that she would move, -but she did not wish any other situation and would return to her home. - -It was apparent that it was not of their own free will they were -dismissing Helga from Närlunda. - -When she was leaving, there was a spread for her. It was like a party, -and mother Ingeborg gave her such heaps of dresses and shoes that she, -who had come to them with only a bundle under her arm, could now barely -find room enough in a chest for her possessions. - -"I shall never again have such an excellent servant in my house as you -have been," said mother Ingeborg. "And do not think too hard of me for -letting you go! You understand, no doubt, that it is not my will, this. -I shall not forget you. So long as I have any power, you shall never -have to suffer want." - -She arranged with Helga that she was to weave sheets and towels for her. -She gave her employment for at least half a year. - -Gudmund was in the woodshed splitting wood the day Helga was leaving. He -did not come in to say good-bye, although his horse was at the door. He -appeared to be so busy that he didn't take note of what was going on. -She had to go out to him to say farewell. - -He laid down the axe, took Helga's hand, and said rather hurriedly, -"Thank you for all!" and began chopping again. Helga had wanted to say -something about her understanding that it was impossible for them to -keep her and that it was all her own fault. She had brought this upon -herself. But Gudmund chopped away until the splinters flew around him, -and she couldn't make up her mind to speak. - -But the strangest thing about this whole moving affair was that the -master himself, old Erland Erlandsson, drove Helga up to the marsh. - -Gudmund's father was a little weazened man, with a bald pate and -beautiful and knowing eyes. He was very timid, and so reticent at times -that he did not speak a word the whole day. So long as everything went -smoothly, one took no notice of him, but when anything went wrong, he -always said and did what there was to be said and done to right matters. -He was a capable accountant and enjoyed the confidence of every man in -the township. He executed all kinds of public commissions and was more -respected than many a man with a large estate and great riches. - -Erland Erlandsson drove Helga home in his own wagon, and he wouldn't -allow her to step down and walk up any of the hills. When they arrived -at the marsh croft, he sat a long while in the cabin and talked with -Helga's parents, telling them of how pleased he and mother Ingeborg had -been with her. It was only because they did not need so many servants -that they were sending her home. She, who was the youngest, must go. -They had felt that it was wrong to dismiss any of those who were old in -their service. - -Erland Erlandsson's speech had the desired effect, and the parents gave -Helga a warm welcome. When they heard that she had received such large -orders that she could support herself with weaving, they were satisfied, -and she remained at home. - - -IV - -Gudmund thought that he had loved Hildur until the day when she exacted -from him the promise that Helga should be sent away from Närlunda; at -least up to that time there was no one whom he had esteemed more highly -than Hildur. No other young girl, to his thinking, could come up to her. -It had been a pleasure for him to picture a future with Hildur. They -would be rich and looked up to, and he felt instinctively that the home -Hildur managed would be good to live in. He liked also to think that he -would be well supplied with money after he had married her. He could -then improve the land, rebuild all the tumble-down houses, extend the -farm, and be a real landed proprietor. - -The same Sunday that he had walked home from church with Helga, he had -driven over to Älvåkra in the evening. Then Hildur had started talking -about Helga and had said that she wouldn't come to Närlunda until that -girl was sent away. At first Gudmund had tried to dismiss the whole -matter as a jest, but it was soon obvious that Hildur was in earnest. -Gudmund pleaded Helga's cause exceedingly well and remarked that she was -very young when first sent out to service and it was not strange that -things went badly when she came across such a worthless fellow as Per -Mårtensson. But since his mother had taken her in hand, she had always -conducted herself well. "It can't be right to push her out," said he. -"Then, perhaps, she might meet with misfortune again." - -But Hildur would not yield. "If that girl is to remain at Närlunda, -then I will never come there," she declared. "I cannot tolerate a person -of that kind in my home." - -"You don't know what you are doing," said Gudmund. "No one understands -so well as Helga how to care for mother. We have all been glad that she -came to us. Before she came, mother was often peevish and depressed." - -"I shall not compel you to send her away," said Hildur, but it was clear -that if Gudmund were to take her at her word, in this instance, she was -ready to break the engagement. - -"It will probably have to be as you wish," said Gudmund. He did not feel -that he could jeopardize his whole future for Helga's sake, but he was -very pale when he acquiesced, and he was silent and low-spirited the -entire evening. - -It was this which had caused Gudmund to fear that perhaps Hildur was not -altogether what he had fancied her. He did not like, I dare say, that -she had pitted her will against his. But the worst of it was that he -could not comprehend anything else than that she was in the wrong. He -felt that he would willingly have given in to her had she been -broad-minded, but instead, it seemed to him, she was only petty and -heartless. Once his doubts were awakened, it was not long before he -perceived one thing and another which were not as he wished. "Doubtless -she is one of those who think first and foremost of themselves," he -muttered every time he parted from her, and he wondered how long her -love for him would last if it were put to the test. He tried to console -himself with the idea that all people thought of themselves first, but -instantly Helga flashed into his mind. He saw her as she stood in the -court room and snatched the Bible, and heard how she cried out: "I -withdraw the suit. I am still fond of him and I don't want him to swear -falsely." It was thus he would have Hildur. Helga had become for him a -standard by which he measured people. Though certainly there were many -who were equal to her in affection! - -Day by day he thought less of Hildur, but it did not occur to him that -he should relinquish his prospective bride. He tried to imagine his -discouragement was simply an idle whim. Only a few weeks ago he regarded -her as the best in the world! - -Had this been at the beginning of the courtship, he would have -withdrawn, perhaps, but now the banns were already published and the -wedding day fixed, and in his home they had begun repairing and -rebuilding. Nor did he wish to forfeit the wealth and the good social -position which awaited him. What excuse could he offer for breaking the -engagement? That which he had to bring against Hildur was so -inconsequential that it would have turned to air on his lips had he -attempted to express it. - -But the heart of him was often heavy, and every time he had an errand -down to the parish or the city he bought ale or wine at the shops to -drink himself into a good humor. When he had emptied a couple of -bottles, he was again proud of the marriage and pleased with Hildur. -Then he didn't understand what it was that pained him. - -Gudmund often thought of Helga and longed to meet her. But he fancied -that Helga believed him a wretch because he had not kept the promise -which he voluntarily made her, but had allowed her to go away. He could -neither explain nor excuse himself, therefore he avoided her. - -One morning, when Gudmund was walking up the road, he met Helga, who had -been down in the village to buy milk. Gudmund turned about and joined -her. - -She didn't appear to be pleased with his company and walked rapidly, as -if she wished to get away from him, and said nothing. Gudmund, too, kept -still because he didn't quite know how he should begin the -conversation. - -A vehicle was seen on the road, far behind. Gudmund was absorbed in -thought and did not mark it, but Helga had seen it and turned abruptly -to him: "It is not worth your while to be in my company, Gudmund, for, -unless I see wrongly, it is the Juryman from Älvåkra and his daughter -who come driving back there." - -Gudmund glanced up quickly, recognized the horse, and made a movement as -if to turn back; but the next instant he straightened up and walked -calmly at Helga's side until the vehicle had passed. Then he slackened -his pace. Helga continued to walk rapidly, and they parted company -without his having said a word to her. But all that day he was better -satisfied with himself than he had been in a long while. - - -V - -It was decided that Gudmund and Hildur's wedding should be celebrated at -Älvåkra the day following Palm Sunday. On the Friday before, Gudmund -drove to town to make some purchases for the home-coming banquet, which -was to be held at Närlunda the day after the wedding. In the village he -happened across a number of young men from his parish. They knew it was -his last trip to the city before the marriage and made it the occasion -for a carouse. All insisted that Gudmund must drink, and they succeeded -finally in getting him thoroughly intoxicated. - -He came home on Saturday morning so late that his father and the men -servants had already gone out to their work, and he slept on until late -in the afternoon. When he arose and was going to dress himself, he -noticed that his coat was torn in several places. "It looks as though I -had been in a fight last night," said he, trying to recall what he had -been up to. He remembered this much: he had left the public tavern at -eleven o'clock in company with his comrades; but where they had gone -afterwards, he couldn't remember. It was like trying to peer into a -great darkness. He did not know if they had only driven around on the -streets or if they had been in somebody's home. He didn't remember -whether he or some one else had harnessed the horse and had no -recollection whatever of the drive home. - -When he came into the living-room of the cottage, it was scoured and -arranged for the occasion. All work was over for the day, and the -household were having coffee. No one spoke of Gudmund's trip. It seemed -to be a matter agreed upon that he should have the freedom of living as -he chose these last weeks. - -Gudmund sat down at the table and had his coffee like the others. As he -sat pouring it from the cup into the saucer and back into the cup again -to let it cool, mother Ingeborg, who had finished with hers, took up the -newspaper, which had just arrived, and began reading. She read aloud -column after column, and Gudmund, his father, and the rest sat and -listened. - -Among other things which she read, there was an account of a fight that -had taken place the night before, on the big square, between a gang of -drunken farmers and some laborers. As soon as the police turned up, the -fighters fled, but one of them lay dead on the square. The man was -carried to the police station, and when no outward injury was found on -him, they had tried to resuscitate him. But all attempts had been in -vain, and at last they discovered that a knife-blade was imbedded in the -skull. It was the blade of an uncommonly large clasp-knife that had -pierced the brain and was broken off close to the head. The murderer had -fled with the knife-handle, but as the police knew perfectly well who -had been in the fight, they had hopes of soon finding him. - -While mother Ingeborg was reading this, Gudmund set down the -coffee-cup, stuck his hand in his pocket, pulled out a clasp-knife, and -glanced at it carelessly. But almost immediately he started, turned the -knife over, and poked it into his pocket as quickly as though it had -burned him. He did not touch the coffee after that, but sat a long -while, perfectly still, with a puzzled expression on his face. His brows -were contracted, and it was apparent that he was trying with all his -might to think out something. - -Finally he stood up, stretched himself, yawned, and walked leisurely -toward the door. "I'll have to bestir myself. I haven't been out of -doors all day," he said, leaving the room. - -About the same time Erland Erlandsson also arose. He had smoked out his -pipe, and now he went into the side room to get some tobacco. As he was -standing in there, refilling his pipe, he saw Gudmund walking along. The -windows of the side room did not, like those of the main room, face the -yard, but looked out upon a little garden plot with a couple of tall -apple trees. Beyond the plot lay a bit of swamp land where in the spring -of the year there were big pools of water, but which were almost dried -out in the summer. Toward this side it was seldom that any one went. -Erland Erlandsson wondered what Gudmund was doing there, and followed -him with his eyes. Then he saw that the son stuck his hand into his -pocket, drew out some object, and flung it away in the morass. Thereupon -he walked back across the little garden plot, leaped a fence, and went -down the road. - -As soon as his son was out of sight, Erland, in his turn, betook -himself, as he should have done, to the swamp. He waded out into the -mire, bent down, and picked up something his foot had touched. It was a -large clasp-knife with the biggest blade broken off. He turned it over -and over and examined it carefully while he still stood in the water. -Then he put it into his pocket, but he took it out again and looked at -it before returning to the house. - -Gudmund did not come home until the household had retired. He went -immediately to bed without touching his supper, which was spread in the -main room. - -Erland Erlandsson and his wife slept in the side room. At daybreak -Erland thought he heard footsteps outside the window. He got up, drew -aside the curtain, and saw Gudmund walking down to the swamp. He -stripped off stockings and shoes and waded out into the water, tramping -back and forth, like one who is searching for something. He kept this up -for a long while, then he walked back to dry land, as if he intended to -go away, but soon turned back to resume his search. A whole hour his -father stood watching him. Then Gudmund went back to the house again and -to bed. - -On Palm Sunday Gudmund was to drive to church. As he started to hitch up -the horse, his father came out. "You have forgotten to polish the -harness to-day," he said, as he walked by; for both harness and cart -were muddy. - -"I have had other things to think of," said Gudmund listlessly, and -drove off without doing anything in the matter. - -After the service Gudmund accompanied his betrothed to Älvåkra and -remained there all day. A number of young people came to celebrate -Hildur's last evening as a maid, and there was dancing till far into the -night. Intoxicants were plentiful, but Gudmund did not touch them. The -whole evening he had scarcely spoken a word to any one, but he danced -wildly and laughed at times, loudly and stridently, without any one's -knowing what he was so amused over. - -Gudmund did not come home until about two in the morning, and when he -had stabled the horse he went down to the swamp back of the house. He -took off his shoes and stockings, rolled up his trousers, and waded -into the water and mud. It was a light spring night, and his father was -standing in the side room behind the curtain, watching his son. He saw -how he walked bending over the water and searching as on the previous -night. He went up on land between times, but after a moment or two he -would wade again through the mud. Once he went and fetched a bucket from -the barn and began dipping water from the pools, as if he intended to -drain them, but really found it unprofitable and set the bucket aside. -He tried also with a pole-net. He ploughed through the entire -swamp-ground with it, but seemed to bring up nothing but mud. He did not -go in until the morning was so well on that the people in the house were -beginning to bestir themselves. Then he was so tired and spent that he -staggered as he walked, and he flung himself upon the bed without -undressing. - -When the clock struck eight, his father came and waked him. Gudmund lay -upon the bed, his clothing covered with mud and clay, but his father did -not ask what he had been doing. He simply said, "It is time now to get -up," and closed the door. - -After a while Gudmund came down stairs, dressed in his wedding clothes. -He was pale, and his eyes wore a troubled expression, but no one had -ever seen him look so handsome. His features were as if illumined by an -inner light. One felt that one was looking upon something no longer made -up of flesh and blood,--only of soul and will. - -It was solemnly ceremonious down in the main room. His mother was in -black, and she had thrown a pretty silk shawl across her shoulders, -although she was not to be at the wedding. Fresh birch leaves were -arranged in the fireplace. The table was spread, and there was a great -quantity of food. - -When they had breakfasted, mother Ingeborg read a hymn and something -from the Bible. Then she turned to Gudmund, thanked him for having been -a good son, wished him happiness in his new life, and gave him her -blessing. Mother Ingeborg could arrange her words well, and Gudmund was -deeply moved. The tears welled to his eyes time and again, but he -managed to choke them back. His father, too, said a few words. "It will -be hard for your parents to lose you," he said, and again Gudmund came -near breaking down. All the servants came forward and shook hands with -him and thanked him for the past. Tears were in his eyes all the while. -He pulled himself together and made several attempts to speak, but -could scarcely get a word past his lips. - -His father was to accompany him to the wedding and be one of the party. -He went out and harnessed the horse, after which he came back and -announced that it was time to start. When Gudmund was seated in the -cart, he noticed that it was cleansed and burnished. Everything was as -bright and shiny as he himself always wished it to be. At the same time -he saw, also, how neat everything about the place looked. The driveway -had been laid with new gravel; piles of old wood and rubbish, which had -lain there all his life, were removed. On each side of the entrance door -stood a birch branch, as a gate of honor. A large wreath of blueberry -hung on the weather-vane, and from every aperture peeped light green -birch-leaves. Again Gudmund was ready to burst into tears. He grasped -his father's hand hard when he was about to start; it was as though he -wished to prevent his going. - -"Is there something--?" said the father. - -"Oh, no!" said Gudmund. "It is best, I dare say, that we go ahead." - -Gudmund had to say one more farewell before he was very far from the -homestead. It was Helga from Big Marsh, who stood waiting at the hedge, -where the foliage path leading from her home opened into the highway. -The father was driving and stopped when he saw Helga. - -"I have been waiting for you, as I wanted to wish you happiness to-day," -said Helga. - -Gudmund leaned far out over the cart and shook hands with Helga. He -thought that she had grown thin and that her eyelids were red. Very -probably she had lain awake and cried all night and was homesick for -Närlunda. But now she tried to appear happy and smiled sweetly at him. -Again he felt deeply moved but could not speak. - -His father, who was reputed never to speak a word until it was called -forth by extreme necessity, joined in: "That good wish, I think, Gudmund -will be more glad over than any other." - -"Yes, of that you may be sure!" said Gudmund. He shook hands with Helga -once more, and then they drove on. - -Gudmund leaned back in the cart and looked after Helga. When she was -hidden from view by a couple of trees, he hastily tore aside the apron -of the carriage, as if he wished to jump out. - -"Is there anything more you wish to say to Helga?" asked his father. - -"No, oh, no!" answered Gudmund and turned round again. - -Suddenly Gudmund leaned his head against his father's shoulder and burst -out crying. - -"What ails you?" asked Erland Erlandsson, drawing in the reins so -suddenly that the horse stopped. - -"Oh, they are all so good to me and I don't deserve it." - -"But you have never done anything wrong, surely?" - -"Yes, father, I have." - -"That we can't believe." - -"I have killed a human being!" - -The father drew a deep breath. It sounded almost like a sigh of relief, -and Gudmund raised his head, astonished, and looked at him. His father -set the horse in motion again; then he said calmly, "I'm glad you have -told of this yourself." - -"Did you know it already, father?" - -"I surmised last Saturday evening that there was something wrong. And -then I found your knife down in the morass." - -"So it was you who found the knife!" - -"I found it and I noticed that one of the blades had been broken off." - -"Yes, father, I'm aware that the knife-blade is gone, but still I -cannot get it into my head that I did it." - -"It was probably done in the drunkenness and delirium." - -"I know nothing; I remember nothing. I could see by my clothes that I -had been in a fight and I knew that the knife-blade was missing." - -"I understand that it was your intention to be silent about this," said -the father. - -"I thought that perhaps the rest of the party were as irresponsible as -myself and _I_ couldn't remember anything. There was perhaps no other -evidence against me than the knife, therefore I threw it away." - -"I comprehend that you must have reasoned in that way." - -"You understand, father, that I do not know who is dead. I had never -seen him before, I dare say. I have no recollection of having done it. I -didn't think I ought to suffer for what I had not done knowingly. But -soon I got to thinking that I must have been mad to throw the knife into -the marsh. It dries out in summer, and then any one might find it. I -tried last night and the night before to find it." - -"Didn't it occur to you that you should confess?" - -"No! Yesterday I thought only of how I could keep it a secret, and I -tried to dance and be merry, so that no one would mark any change in -me." - -"Was it your intention to go to the bridal altar to-day without -confessing? You were assuming a grave responsibility. Didn't you -understand that if you were discovered you would drag Hildur and her kin -with you into misery?" - -"I thought that I was sparing them most by saying nothing." - -They drove now as fast as possible. The father seemed to be in haste to -arrive, and all the time he talked with his son. He had not said so much -to him in all his life before. - -"I wonder how you came to think differently?" said he. - -"It was because Helga came and wished me luck. Then there was something -hard in me that broke. I was touched by something in her. Mother, also, -moved me this morning, and I wanted to speak out and tell her that I was -not worthy of your love; but then the hardness was still within me and -made resistance. But when Helga appeared, it was all over with me. I -felt that she really ought to be angry with me who was to blame for her -having to leave our home." - -"Now I think you are agreed with me that we must let the Juryman know -this at once," said the father. - -"Yes," answered Gudmund in a low tone. "Why, certainly!" he added almost -immediately after, louder and firmer. "I don't want to drag Hildur into -my misfortune. This she would never forgive me." - -"The Älvåkra folk are jealous of their honor, like the rest," remarked -the father. "And you may as well know, Gudmund, that when I left home -this morning I was thinking that I must tell the Juryman your position -if you did not decide to do so yourself. I never could have stood -silently by and let Hildur marry a man who at any moment might be -accused of murder." - -He cracked the whip and drove on, faster and faster. "This will be the -hardest thing for you," said he, "but we'll try and have it over with -quickly. I believe that, to the Juryman's mind, it will be right for you -to give yourself up, and they will be kind to you, no doubt." - -Gudmund said nothing. His torture increased the nearer they approached -Älvåkra. The father continued talking to keep up his courage. - -"I have heard something of this sort before," said he. "There was a -bridegroom once who happened to shoot a comrade to death during a hunt. -He did not do it intentionally, and it was not discovered that he was -the one who had fired the fatal shot. But a day or two later he was to -be married, and when he came to the home of the bride, he went to her -and said: 'The marriage cannot take place. I do not care to drag you -into the misery which awaits me.' But she stood, dressed in bridal -wreath and crown, and took him by the hand and led him into the -drawing-room, where the guests were assembled and all was in readiness -for the ceremony. She related in a clear voice what the bridegroom had -just said to her. 'I have told of this, that all may know you have -practised no deceit on me.' Then she turned to the bridegroom. 'Now I -want to be married to you at once. You are what you are, even though you -have met with misfortune, and whatever awaits you, I want to share it -equally with you.'" - -Just as the father had finished the narrative, they were on the long -avenue leading to Älvåkra. Gudmund turned to him with a melancholy -smile. "It will not end thus for us," he said. - -"Who knows?" said the father, straightening in the cart. He looked upon -his son and was again astonished at his beauty this day. "It would not -surprise me if something great and unexpected were to come to him," -thought he. - -There was to have been a church ceremony, and already a crowd of people -were gathered at the bride's home to join in the wedding procession. A -number of the Juryman's relatives from a distance had also arrived. They -were sitting on the porch in their best attire, ready for the drive to -church. Carts and carriages were strung out in the yard, and one could -hear the horses stamping in the stable as they were being curried. The -parish fiddler sat on the steps of the storehouse alone, tuning his -fiddle. At a window in the upper story of the cottage stood the bride, -dressed and waiting to have a peep at the bridegroom before he had time -to discover her. - -Erland and Gudmund stepped from the carriage and asked immediately for a -private conference with Hildur and her parents. Soon they were all -standing in the little room which the Juryman used as his study. - -"I think you must have read in the papers of that fight in town last -Saturday night, where a man was killed," said Gudmund, as rapidly as if -he were repeating a lesson. - -"Oh, yes, I've read about it, of course," said the Juryman. - -"I happened to be in town that night," continued Gudmund. Now there was -no response. It was as still as death. Gudmund thought they all glared -at him with such fury that he was unable to continue. But his father -came to his aid. - -"Gudmund had been invited out by a few friends. He had probably drunk -too much that night, and when he came home he did not know what he had -been doing. But it was apparent that he had been in a fight, for his -clothes were torn." - -Gudmund saw that the dread which the others felt increased with every -word that was said, but he himself was growing calmer. There awoke in -him a sense of defiance, and he took up the words again: "When the paper -came on Saturday evening and I read of the fight and of the knife-blade -which was imbedded in the man's skull, I took out my knife and saw that -a blade was missing." - -"It is bad news that Gudmund brings with him," said the Juryman. "It -would have been better had he told us of this yesterday." - -Gudmund was silent; and now his father came to the rescue again. "It was -not so easy for Gudmund. It was a great temptation to keep quiet about -the whole affair. He is losing much by this confession." - -"We may be glad that he has spoken now, and that we have not been -tricked and dragged into this wretched affair," said the Juryman -bitterly. - -Gudmund kept his eyes fixed on Hildur all the while. She was adorned -with veil and crown, and now he saw how she raised her hand and drew out -one of the large pins which held the crown in place. She seemed to do -this unconsciously. When she observed that Gudmund's glance rested upon -her, she stuck the pin in again. - -"It is not yet fully proved that Gudmund is the slayer," said his -father, "but I can well understand that you wish the wedding postponed -until everything has been cleared up." - -"It is not worth while to talk of postponement," said the Juryman. "I -think that Gudmund's case is clear enough for us to decide that all is -over between him and Hildur now." - -Gudmund did not at once reply to this judgment. He walked over to his -betrothed and put out his hand. She sat perfectly still and seemed not -to see him. "Won't you say farewell to me, Hildur?" - -Then she looked up, and her large eyes stared coldly at him. "Was it -with that hand you guided the knife?" she asked. - -Gudmund did not answer her, but turned to the Juryman. "Now I am sure of -my case," he said. "It is useless to talk of a wedding." - -With this the conference was ended, and Gudmund and Erland went their -way. - -They had to pass through a number of rooms and corridors before they -came out, and everywhere they saw preparations for the wedding. The door -leading to the kitchen was open, and they saw many bustling about in -eager haste. The smell of roasts and of baking penetrated the air; the -whole fireplace was covered with large and small pots and pans, and the -copper saucepans, which usually decorated the walls, were down and in -use. "Fancy, it is for my wedding that they are puttering like this!" -thought Gudmund, as he was passing. - -He caught a glimpse, so to speak, of all the wealth of this old peasant -estate as he wandered through the house. He saw the dining-hall, where -the long tables were set with a long row of silver goblets and -decanters. He passed by the clothes-press, where the floor was covered -with great chests and where the walls were hung with an endless array of -wearing apparel. When he came out in the yard, he saw many vehicles, old -and new, and fine horses being led out from the stable, and gorgeous -carriage robes placed in the carriages. He looked out across a couple of -farms with cow-sheds, barns, sheep-folds, storehouses, sheds, larders, -and many other buildings. "All this might have been mine," he thought, -as he seated himself in the cart. - -Suddenly he was seized with a sense of bitter regret. He would have -liked to throw himself out of the cart and go in and say that what he -had told them was not true. He had only wished to joke with them and -frighten them. It was awfully stupid of him to confess. Of what use had -it been to him to confess? The dead was dead. No, this confession -carried nothing with it save his ruin. - -These last weeks he had not been very enthusiastic over this marriage. -But now, when he must renounce it, he realized what it was worth to him. -It meant much to lose Hildur Ericsdotter and all that went with her. -What did it matter that she was domineering and opinionated? She was -still the peer of all in these regions, and through her he would have -come by great power and honor. - -It was not only Hildur and her possessions he was missing, but minor -things as well. At this moment he should have been driving to the -church, and all who looked upon him would have envied him. And it was -to-day that he should have sat at the head of the wedding table and been -in the thick of the dancing and the gayety. It was his great luck-day -that was going from him. - -Erland turned time and again to his son and looked at him. Now he was -not so handsome or transfigured as he had been in the morning, but sat -there listless and heavy and dull-eyed. The father wondered if the son -regretted having confessed and meant to question him about it, but -thought it best to be silent. - -"Where are we driving to now?" asked Gudmund presently. "Wouldn't it be -as well to go at once to the sheriff?" - -"You had better go home first and have a good sleep," said the father. -"You have not had much sleep these last nights, I dare say." - -"Mother will be frightened when she sees us." - -"She won't be surprised," answered the father, "for she knows quite as -much as I do. She will be glad, of course, that you have confessed." - -"I believe mother and the rest of you at home are glad to get me into -prison," snarled Gudmund. - -"We know that you are losing a good deal in acting rightly," said the -father. "We can't help but be glad because you have conquered yourself." - -Gudmund felt that he could not endure going home and having to listen to -all who would commend him because he had spoiled his future. He sought -some excuse that he might escape meeting any one until he had recovered -his poise. Then they drove by the place where the path led to Big Marsh. -"Will you stop here, father? I think I'll run up to see Helga and have a -talk with her." - -Willingly the father reined in the horse. "Only come home as quickly as -you can, that you may rest yourself," said he. - -Gudmund went into the woods and was soon out of sight. He did not think -of seeking Helga; he was only thinking of being alone, so that he -wouldn't have to control himself. He felt an unreasonable anger toward -everything, kicked at stones that lay in his path, and paused sometimes -to break off a big branch only because a leaf had brushed his cheek. - -He followed the path to Big Marsh, but walked past the croft and up the -hill which lay above it. He had wandered off the path, and in order to -reach the hill-top he must cross a broad ridge of sharp, jagged rocks. -It was a hazardous tramp over the sharp rock edges. He might have broken -both arms and legs had he made a misstep. He understood this perfectly, -but went on as if it amused him to run into danger. "If I were to fall -and hurt myself, no one can find me up here," thought he. "What of it? I -may as well die here as to sit for years within prison walls." - -All went well, however, and a few moments later he was up on High Peak. -Once a forest fire had swept the mountain. The highest point was still -bare, and from there one had a seven-mile outlook. He saw valleys and -lakes, dark forest tracts and flourishing towns, churches and manors, -little woodland crofts and large villages. Far in the distance lay the -city, enveloped in a white haze from which a pair of gleaming spires -peeped out. Public roads wound through the valleys, and a railway train -was rushing along the border of the forest. It was a whole kingdom that -he saw. - -He flung himself upon the ground, all the while keeping his eyes riveted -upon the vast outlook. There was something grand and majestic about the -landscape before him, which made him feel himself and his sorrows small -and insignificant. - -He remembered how, when a child, he had read that the tempter led Jesus -up to a high mountain and showed him all the world's glories, and he -always fancied that they had stood up here on Great Peak, and he -repeated the old words: "All these things will I give thee if thou wilt -fall down and worship me." - -All of a sudden he was thinking that a similar temptation had come to -him these last days. Certainly the tempter had not borne him to a high -mountain and shown him all the glories and powers of this world! "Only -be silent about the evil which you think you have done," said he, "and I -will give you all these things." - -As Gudmund thought on this, a grain of satisfaction came to him. "I have -answered no," he said, and suddenly he understood what it had meant for -him. If he had kept silent, would he not have been compelled to worship -the tempter all his life? He would have been a timid and faint-hearted -man; simply a slave to his possessions. The fear of discovery would -always have weighed upon him. Nevermore would he have felt himself a -free man. - -A great peace came over Gudmund. He was happy in the consciousness that -he had done right. When he thought back to the past days, he felt that -he had groped his way out of a great darkness. It was wonderful that he -had come out right finally. He asked himself how he had ever happened to -go astray. "It was because they were so kind to me at home," he thought, -"and the best help was that Helga came and wished me happiness." - -He lay up there on the mountain a little longer, but presently he felt -that he must go home to his father and mother and tell them that he was -at peace with himself. When he rose to go, he saw Helga sitting on a -ledge a little farther down the mountain. - -Where she sat, she had not the big, broad outlook which he enjoyed; only -a little glint of the valley was visible to her. This was in the -direction where Närlunda lay, and possibly she could see a portion of -the farm. When Gudmund discovered her, he felt that his heart, which all -the day before had labored heavily and anxiously, began to beat lightly -and merrily; at the same time such a thrill of joy ran through him that -he stood still and marvelled at himself. "What has come over me? What is -this?" he wondered, as the blood surged through his body and happiness -gripped him with a force that was almost painful. At last he said to -himself in a surprised tone: "Why, it is she that I'm fond of! Think, -that I did not know it until now!" - -It took hold of him with the strength of a loosened torrent. He had been -bound the whole time he knew her. All that had drawn him to her he had -held back. Now, at last, he was freed from the thought of marrying some -one else--free to love her. - -"Helga!" he cried, rushing down the steep to her. She turned round with -a terrified shriek. "Don't be frightened! It is only I." - -"But are you not at church being married?" - -"No, indeed! There will be no wedding to-day. She doesn't want -me--she--Hildur." - -Helga rose. She placed her hand on her heart and closed her eyes. At -that moment she must have thought it was not Gudmund who had come. It -must be that her eyes and ears were bewitched in the forest. Yet it was -sweet and dear of him to come, if only in a vision! She closed her eyes -and stood motionless to keep this vision a few seconds longer. - -Gudmund was wild and dizzy from the great love that had flamed up in -him. As soon as he came down to Helga, he threw his arms around her and -kissed her, and she let it happen, for she was absolutely stupefied with -surprise. It was too wonderful to believe that he, who should now be -standing in church beside his bride, actually could have come here to -the forest. This phantom or ghost of him that had come to her may as -well kiss her. - -But while Gudmund was kissing Helga, she awoke and pushed him from her. -She began to shower him with questions. Was it really he? What was he -doing in the forest? Had any misfortune happened to him? Why was the -wedding postponed? Was Hildur ill? Did the clergyman have a stroke in -church? - -Gudmund had not wished to talk to her of anything in the world save his -love, but she forced him to tell her what had occurred. While he was -speaking she sat still and listened with rapt attention. - -She did not interrupt him until he mentioned the broken blade. Then she -leaped up suddenly and asked if it was his clasp-knife, the one he had -when she served with them. - -"Yes, it was just that one," said he. - -"How many blades were broken off?" she asked. - -"Only one," he answered. - -Then Helga's head began working. She sat with knit brows trying to -recall something. Wait! Why, certainly she remembered distinctly that -she had borrowed the knife from him to shave wood with the day before -she left. She had broken it then, but she had never told him of it. He -had avoided her, and at that time he had not wished to hold any converse -with her. And of course the knife had been in his pocket ever since and -he hadn't noticed that it was broken. - -She raised her head and was about to tell him of this, but he went on -talking of his visit that morning to the house where the wedding was to -have been celebrated, and she wanted to let him finish. When she heard -how he had parted from Hildur, she thought it such a terrible misfortune -that she began upbraiding him. "This is your own fault," said she. "You -and your father came and frightened the life out of her with the -shocking news. She would not have answered thus had she been mistress of -herself. I want to say to you that I believe she regrets it at this very -moment." - -"Let her regret it as much as she likes, for all of me!" said Gudmund. -"I know now that she is the sort who thinks only of herself. I am glad -I'm rid of her!" - -Helga pressed her lips, as if to keep the great secret from escaping. -There was much for her to think about. It was more than a question of -clearing Gudmund of the murder; the wretched affair had also dragged -with it enmity between Gudmund and his sweetheart. Perhaps she might try -to adjust this matter with the help of what she knew. - -Again she sat silent and pondered until Gudmund began telling that he -had transferred his affections to her. - -But to her this seemed to be the greatest misfortune he had met with -that day. It was bad that he was about to miss the advantageous -marriage, but still worse were he to woo a girl like herself. "No, such -things you must not say to me," she said, rising abruptly. - -"Why shouldn't I say this to you?" asked Gudmund, turning pale. "Perhaps -it is with you as with Hildur--you are afraid of me?" - -"No, that's not the reason." - -She wanted to explain how he was seeking his own ruin, but he was not -listening to her. "I have heard said that there were women-folk in olden -times who stood side by side with men when they were in trouble; but -that kind one does not encounter nowadays." - -A tremor passed through Helga. She could have thrown her arms around his -neck, but remained perfectly still. To-day it was she who must be -sensible. - -"True, I should not have asked you to become my wife on the day that I -must go to prison. You see, if I only knew that you would wait for me -until I'm free again, I should go through all the hardship with courage. -Every one will now regard me as a criminal, as one who drinks and -murders. If only there were some one who could think of me with -affection!--this would sustain me more than anything else." - -"You know, surely, that I shall never think anything but good of you, -Gudmund." - -Helga was so still! Gudmund's entreaties were becoming almost too much -for her. She didn't know how she should escape him. He apprehended -nothing of this, but began thinking he had been mistaken. She could not -feel toward him as he did toward her. He came very close and looked at -her, as though he wanted to look through her. "Are you not sitting on -this particular ledge of the mountain that you may look down to -Närlunda?" - -"Yes." - -"Don't you long night and day to be there?" - -"Yes, but I'm not longing for any person." - -"And you don't care for me?" - -"Yes, but I don't want to marry you." - -"Whom do you care for, then?" - -Helga was silent. - -"Is it Per Mårtensson?" - -"I have already told you that I liked him," she said, exhausted by the -strain of it all. - -Gudmund stood for a moment, with tense features, and looked at her. -"Farewell, then! Now we must go our separate ways, you and I," said he. -With that he made a long jump from this ledge of the mountain down to -the next landing and disappeared among the trees. - - -VI - -Gudmund was hardly out of sight when Helga rushed down the mountain in -another direction. She ran past the marsh without stopping and hurried -over the wooded hills as fast as she could and down the road. She -stopped at the first farmhouse she came to and asked for the loan of a -horse and car to drive to Älvåkra. She said that it was a matter of life -and death and promised to pay for the help. The church folk had already -returned to their homes and were talking of the adjourned wedding. They -were all very much excited and very solicitous and were eager to help -Helga, since she appeared to have an important errand to the home of the -bride. - -At Älvåkra Hildur Ericsdotter sat in a little room on the upper floor -where she had dressed as a bride. Her mother and several other peasant -women were with her. Hildur did not weep; she was unusually quiet, and -so pale that she looked as though she might be ill at any moment. The -women talked all the while of Gudmund. All blamed him and seemed to -regard it as a fortunate thing that she was rid of him. Some thought -that Gudmund had shown very little consideration for his parents-in-law -in not letting them know on Palm Sunday how matters stood with him. -Others, again, said that one who had had such happiness awaiting him -should have known how to take better care of himself. A few -congratulated Hildur because she had escaped marrying a man who could -drink himself so full that he did not know what he was doing. - -Amid this, Hildur was losing her patience and rose to go out. As soon as -she was outside the door, her best friend, a young peasant girl, came -and whispered something to her. "There is some one below who wants to -speak with you." - -"Is it Gudmund?" asked Hildur, and a spark of life came into her eyes. - -"No, but it may be a messenger from him. She wouldn't divulge the nature -of her errand to any one but yourself, she declared." - -Hildur had been sitting thinking all day that some one must come who -could put an end to her misery. She couldn't comprehend that such a -dreadful misfortune should come to her. She felt that something ought to -happen that she might again don her crown and wreath, so they could -proceed with the wedding. When she heard now of a messenger from -Gudmund, she was interested and immediately went out to the kitchen hall -and looked for her. - -Hildur probably wondered why Gudmund had sent Helga to her, but she -thought that perhaps he couldn't find any other messenger on a holiday, -and greeted her pleasantly. She motioned to Helga to come with her into -the dairy across the yard. "I know no other place where we can be -alone," she said. "The house is still full of guests." - -As soon as they were inside, Helga went close up to Hildur and looked -her square in the face. "Before I say anything more, I must know if you -love Gudmund." - -Hildur winced. It was painful for her to be obliged to exchange a single -word with Helga, and she had no desire to make a confidant of her. But -now it was a case of necessity, and she forced herself to answer, "Why -else do you suppose I wished to marry him?" - -"I mean, do you still love him?" - -Hildur was like stone, but she could not lie under the other woman's -searching glance. "Perhaps I have never loved him so much as to-day," -she said, but she said this so feebly that one might think it hurt her -to speak out. - -"Then come with me at once!" said Helga. "I have a wagon down the road. -Go in after a cloak or something to wrap around you; then we'll drive to -Närlunda." - -"What good would it do for me to go there?" asked Hildur. - -"You must go there and say you want to be Gudmund's, no matter what he -may have done, and that you will wait faithfully for him while he is in -prison." - -"Why should I say this?" - -"So all will be well between you." - -"But that is impossible. I don't want to marry any one who has been in -prison!" - -Helga staggered back, as though she had bumped against a wall, but she -quickly regained her courage. She could understand that one who was rich -and powerful, like Hildur, must think thus. "I should not come and ask -you to go to Närlunda did I not know that Gudmund was innocent," said -she. - -Now it was Hildur who came a step or two towards Helga. "Do you know -this for certain, or is it only something which you imagine?" - -"It will be better for us to get into the cart immediately; then I can -talk on the way." - -"No, you must first explain what you mean; I must know what I'm doing." - -Helga was in such a fever of excitement that she could hardly stand -still; nevertheless she had to make up her mind to tell Hildur how she -happened to know that Gudmund was not the murderer. - -"Didn't you tell Gudmund of this at once?" - -"No, I'm telling it now to Hildur. No one else knows of it." - -"And why do you come to me with this?" - -"That all may be well between you two. He will soon learn that he has -done no wrong; but I want you to go to him as if of your own accord, and -make it up." - -"Sha'n't I say that I know he is innocent?" - -"You must come entirely of your own accord and must never let him know I -have spoken to you; otherwise he will never forgive you for what you -said to him this morning." - -Hildur listened quietly. There was something in this which she had never -met with in her life before, and she was striving to make it clear to -herself. "Do you know that it was I who wanted you to leave Närlunda?" - -"I know, of course, that it was not the folk at Närlunda who wished me -away." - -"I can't comprehend that you should come to me to-day with the desire to -help me." - -"Only come along now, Hildur, so all will be well!" - -Hildur stared at Helga, trying all the while to reason it out. "Perhaps -Gudmund loves you?" she blurted out. - -And now Helga's patience was exhausted. "What could I be to him?" she -said sharply. "You know, Hildur, that I am only a poor croft girl, and -that's not the worst about me!" - -The two young women stole unobserved from the homestead and were soon -seated in the cart. Helga held the reins, and she did not spare the -horse, but drove at full speed. Both girls were silent. Hildur sat -gazing at Helga. She marvelled at her and was thinking more of her than -of anything else. - -As they were nearing the Erlandsson farm, Helga gave the reins to -Hildur. "Now you must go alone to the house and talk with Gudmund. I'll -follow a little later and tell that about the knife. But you mustn't say -a word to Gudmund about my having brought you here." - -Gudmund sat in the living-room at Närlunda beside his mother and talked -with her. His father was sitting a little way from them, smoking. He -looked pleased and said not a word. It was apparent that he thought -everything was going now as it should and that it was not necessary for -him to interfere. - -"I wonder, mother, what you would have said if you had got Helga for a -daughter-in-law?" ventured Gudmund. - -Mother Ingeborg raised her head and said in a firm voice, "I will with -pleasure welcome any daughter-in-law if I only know that she loves you -as a wife should love her husband." - -This was barely spoken when they saw Hildur Ericsdotter drive into the -yard. She came immediately into the cottage and was unlike herself in -many respects. She did not step into the room with her usual briskness, -but it appeared almost as though she were inclined to pause near the -door, like some poor beggarwoman. - -However, she came forward finally and shook hands with mother Ingeborg -and Erland. Then she turned to Gudmund: "It is with you that I would -have a word or two." - -Gudmund arose, and they went into the side room. He arranged a chair for -Hildur, but she did not seat herself. She blushed with embarrassment, -and the words dropped slowly and heavily from her lips. "I was--yes, it -was much too hard--that which I said to you this morning." - -"We came so abruptly, Hildur," said Gudmund. - -She grew still more red and embarrassed. "I should have thought twice. -We could--it would of course--" - -"It is probably best as it is, Hildur. It is nothing to speak of now, -but it was kind of you to come." - -She put her hands to her face, drew a breath as deep as a sigh, then -raised her head again. - -"No!" she said, "I can't do it in this way. I don't want you to think -that I'm better than I am. There was some one who came to me and told me -that you were not guilty and advised me to hurry over here at once and -make everything right again. And I was not to mention that I already -knew you were innocent, for then you wouldn't think it so noble of me to -come. Now I want to say to you that I wish I had thought of this myself, -but I hadn't. But I have longed for you all day and wished that all -might be well between us. Whichever way it turns out, I want to say that -I am glad you are innocent." - -"Who advised you to do this?" asked Gudmund. - -"I was not to tell you that." - -"I am surprised that any one should know of it. Father has but just -returned from the Sheriff. He telegraphed to the city, and an answer has -come that the real murderer has already been found." - -As Gudmund was relating this, Hildur felt that her legs were beginning -to shake, and she sat down quickly in the chair. She was frightened -because Gudmund was so calm and pleasant, and she was beginning to -perceive that he was wholly out of her power. "I can understand that you -can never forget how I behaved to you this forenoon." - -"Surely I can forgive you that," he said in the same even tone. "We will -never speak of the matter again." - -She shivered, dropped her eyes, and sat as though she were expecting -something. "It was simply a stroke of good fortune, Hildur," he said, -coming forward and grasping her hand, "that it is over between us, for -to-day it became clear to me that I love another. I think I have been -fond of her for a long time, but I did not know it until to-day." - -"Whom do you care for, Gudmund?" came in a colorless voice from Hildur. - -"It doesn't matter. I shall not marry her, as she does not care for me, -nor can I marry anyone else." - -Hildur raised her head. It was not easy to tell what was taking place in -her. At this moment she felt that she, the rich farmer's daughter, with -all her beauty and all her possessions, was nothing to Gudmund. She was -proud and did not wish to part from him without teaching him that she -had a value of her own, apart from all the external things. "I want you -to tell me, Gudmund, if it is Helga from Big Marsh whom you love." - -Gudmund was silent. - -"It was she who came to me and taught me what I should do that all might -be well between us. She knew you were innocent, but she did not say so -to you. She let me know it first." - -Gudmund looked her steadily in the eyes. "Do you think this means that -she has a great affection for me?" - -"You may be sure of it, Gudmund. I can prove it. No one in the world -could love you more than she does." - -He walked rapidly across the floor and back, then he stopped suddenly -before Hildur. "And you--why do you tell me this?" - -"Surely I do not wish to stand beneath Helga in magnanimity!" - -"Oh, Hildur, Hildur!" he cried, placing his hands on her shoulders and -shaking her to give vent to his emotion. "You don't know, oh, you don't -know how much I like you at this moment! You don't know how happy you -have made me!" - -Helga sat by the roadside and waited. With her cheek resting on her -hand, she sat and pictured Hildur and Gudmund together and thought how -happy they must be now. - -While she sat thus, a servant from Närlunda came along. He stopped when -he saw her. "I suppose you have heard that affair which concerns -Gudmund?" - -She had. - -"It was not true, fortunately. The real murderer is already in custody." - -"I knew it couldn't be true," said Helga. - -Thereupon the man went, and Helga sat there alone, as before. So they -knew it already down there! It was not necessary for her to go to -Närlunda and tell of it. - -She felt herself so strangely shut out! Earlier in the day she had been -so eager. She had not thought of herself--only that Gudmund and Hildur's -marriage should take place. But now it flashed upon her how alone she -was. And it was hard not to be something to those of whom one is fond. -Gudmund did not need her now, and her own child had been appropriated by -her mother, who would hardly allow her to look at it. - -She was thinking that she had better rise and go home, but the hills -appeared long and difficult to her. She didn't know how she should ever -be able to climb them. - -A vehicle came along now from the direction of Närlunda. Hildur and -Gudmund were seated in the cart. Now they were probably on their way to -Älvåkra to tell that they were reconciled. To-morrow the wedding would -take place. - -When they discovered Helga, they stopped the horse. Gudmund handed the -reins to Hildur and jumped down. Hildur nodded to Helga and drove on. - -Gudmund remained standing on the road and facing Helga. "I am glad you -are sitting here, Helga," he said. "I thought that I would have to go up -to Big Marsh to meet you." - -He said this abruptly, almost harshly; at the same time he gripped her -hand tightly. And she read in his eyes that he knew now where he had -her. Now she could no more escape from him. - - - - -The Silver Mine - - -King Gustaf the Third was travelling through Dalecarlia. He was pressed -for time, and all the way he wanted to drive like lightning. Although -they drove with such speed that the horses were extended like stretched -rubber bands and the coach cleared the turns on two wheels, the King -poked his head out of the window and shouted to the postilion: "Why -don't you go ahead? Do you think you are driving over eggs?" - -Since they had to drive over poor country roads at such a mad pace, it -would have been almost a miracle had the harness and wagon held -together! And they didn't, either; for at the foot of a steep hill the -pole broke--and there the King sat! The courtiers sprang from the coach -and scolded the driver, but this did not lessen the damage done. There -was no possibility of continuing the journey until the coach was mended. - -When the courtiers looked round to try and find something with which the -King could amuse himself while he waited, they noticed a church spire -looming high above the trees in a grove a short distance ahead. They -intimated to the King that he might step into one of the coaches in -which the attendants were riding and drive up to the church. It was a -Sunday, and the King might attend service to pass the time until the -royal coach was ready. - -The King accepted the proposal and drove toward the church. He had been -travelling for hours through dark forest regions, but here it looked -more cheerful, with fairly large meadows and villages, and with the Dal -River gliding on, light and pretty, between thick rows of alder bushes. - -But the King had ill-luck to this extent: the bellringer took up the -recessional chant just as the King was stepping from the coach on the -church knoll and the people were coming out from the service. But when -they came walking past him, the King remained standing, with one foot in -the wagon and the other on the footstep. He did not move from the -spot--only stared at them. They were the finest lot of folk he had ever -seen. All the men were above the average height, with intelligent and -earnest faces, and the women were dignified and stately, with an air of -Sabbath peace about them. - -The whole of the preceding day the King had talked only of the desolate -tracts he was passing through, and had said to his courtiers again and -again, "Now I am certainly driving through the very poorest part of my -kingdom!" But now, when he saw the people, garbed in the picturesque -dress of this section of the country, he forgot to think of their -poverty; instead his heart warmed, and he remarked to himself: "The King -of Sweden is not so badly off as his enemies think. So long as my -subjects look like this, I shall probably be able to defend both my -faith and my country." - -He commanded the courtiers to make known to the people that the stranger -who was standing amongst them was their King, and that they should -gather around him, so he could talk to them. - -And then the King made a speech to the people. He spoke from the high -steps outside the vestry, and the narrow step upon which he stood is -there even to-day. - -The King gave an account of the sad plight in which the kingdom was -placed. He said that the Swedes were threatened with war, both by -Russians and Danes. Under ordinary circumstances it wouldn't be such a -serious matter, but now the army was filled with traitors, and he did -not dare depend upon it. Therefore there was no other course for him to -pursue than to go himself into the country settlements and ask his -subjects if they would be loyal to their King and help him with men and -money, so he could save the Fatherland. - -The peasants stood quietly while the King was speaking, and when he had -finished they gave no sign either of approval or disapproval. - -The King himself thought that he had spoken very well. The tears had -sprung to his eyes several times while he was speaking. But when the -peasants stood there all the while, troubled and undecided, and could -not make up their minds to answer him, the King frowned and looked -displeased. - -The peasants understood that it was becoming monotonous for the King to -wait, and finally one of them stepped out from the crowd. - -"Now, you must know, King Gustaf, that we were not expecting a royal -visit in the parish to-day," said the peasant, "and therefore we are not -prepared to answer you at once. I advise you to go into the vestry and -speak with our pastor, while we discuss among ourselves this matter -which you have laid before us." - -The King apprehended that a more satisfactory response was not to be had -immediately, so he felt that it would be best for him to follow the -peasant's advice. - -When he came into the vestry, he found no one there but a man who looked -like a peasant. He was tall and rugged, with big hands, toughened by -labor, and he wore neither cassock nor collar, but leather breeches and -a long white homespun coat, like all the other men. - -He arose and bowed to the King when the latter entered. - -"I thought I should find the parson in here," said the King. - -The man grew somewhat red in the face. He thought it annoying to mention -the fact that he was the parson of this parish, when he saw that the -King had mistaken him for a peasant. "Yes," said he, "the parson is -usually on hand in here." - -The King dropped into a large armchair which stood in the vestry at that -time, and which stands there to-day, looking exactly like itself, with -this difference: the congregation has had a gilded crown attached to the -back of it. - -"Have you a good parson in this parish?" asked the King, who wanted to -appear interested in the welfare of the peasants. - -When the King questioned him in this manner, the parson felt that he -couldn't possibly tell who he was. "It's better to let him go on -believing that I'm only a peasant," thought he, and replied that the -parson was good enough. He preached a pure and clear gospel and tried to -live as he taught. - -The King thought that this was a good commendation, but he had a sharp -ear and marked a certain doubt in the tone. "You sound as if you were -not quite satisfied with the parson," said the King. - -"He's a bit arbitrary," said the man, thinking that if the King should -find out later who he was, he would not think that the parson had been -standing here and blowing his own horn, therefore he wished to come out -with a little fault-finding also. "There are some, no doubt, who say the -parson wants to be the only one to counsel and rule in this parish," he -continued. - -"Then, at all events, he has led and managed in the best possible way," -said the King. He didn't like it that the peasant complained of one who -was placed above him. "To me it appears as though good habits and -old-time simplicity were the rule here." - -"The people are good enough," said the curate, "but then they live in -poverty and isolation. Human beings here would certainly be no better -than others if this world's temptations came closer to them." - -"But there's no fear of anything of the sort happening," said the King -with a shrug. - -He said nothing further, but began thrumming on the table with his -fingers. He thought he had exchanged a sufficient number of gracious -words with this peasant and wondered when the others would be ready with -their answer. - -"These peasants are not very eager to help their King," thought he. "If -I only had my coach, I would drive away from them and their palaver!" - -The pastor sat there troubled, debating with himself as to how he should -decide an important matter which he must settle. He was beginning to -feel happy because he had not told the King who he was. Now he felt that -he could speak with him about matters which otherwise he could not have -placed before him. - -After a while the parson broke the silence and asked the King if it was -an actual fact that enemies were upon them and that the kingdom was in -danger. - -The King thought this man ought to have sense enough not to trouble him -further. He simply glared at him and said nothing. - -"I ask because I was standing in here and could not hear very well," -said the parson. "But if this is really the case, I want to say to you -that the pastor of this congregation might perhaps be able to procure -for the King as much money as he will need." - -"I thought you said just now that every one here was poor," said the -King, thinking that the man didn't know what he was talking about. - -"Yes, that is true," replied the rector, "and the parson has no more -than any of the others. But if the King would condescend to listen to me -for a moment, I will explain how the pastor happens to have the power to -help him." - -"You may speak," said the King. "You seem to find it easier to get the -words past your lips than your friends and neighbors out there, who -never will be ready with what they have to tell me." - -"It is not so easy to reply to the King! I'm afraid that, in the end, it -will be the parson who must undertake this on behalf of the others." - -The King crossed his legs, folded his arms, and let his head sink down -on his breast. "You may begin now," he said in the tone of one already -asleep. - -"Once upon a time there were five men from this parish who were out on a -moose hunt," began the clergyman. "One of them was the parson of whom -we are speaking. Two of the others were soldiers, named Olaf and Eric -Svärd; the fourth man was the innkeeper in this settlement, and the -fifth was a peasant named Israel Per Persson." - -"Don't go to the trouble of mentioning so many names," muttered the -King, letting his head droop to one side. - -"Those men were good hunters," continued the parson, "who usually had -luck with them; but that day they had wandered long and far without -getting anything. Finally they gave up the hunt altogether and sat down -on the ground to talk. They said there was not a spot in the whole -forest fit for cultivation; all of it was only mountain and swamp land. -'Our Lord has not done right by us in giving us such a poor land to live -in,' said one. 'In other localities people can get riches for themselves -in abundance, but here, with all our toil and drudgery, we can scarcely -get our daily bread.'" - -The pastor paused a moment, as if uncertain that the King heard him, but -the latter moved his little finger to show that he was awake. - -"Just as the hunters were discussing this matter, the parson saw -something that glittered at the base of the mountain, where he had -kicked away a moss-tuft. 'This is a queer mountain,' he thought, as he -kicked off another moss-tuft. He picked up a shiver of stone that came -with the moss and which shone exactly like the other. 'It can't be -possible that this stuff is lead,' said he. Then the others sprang up -and scraped away the turf with the butt end of their rifles. When they -did this, they saw plainly that a broad vein of ore followed the -mountain. 'What do you think this might be?' asked the parson. The men -chipped off bits of stone and bit into them. 'It must be lead, or zinc -at least,' said they. 'And the whole mountain is full of it,' added the -innkeeper." - -When the parson had got thus far in his narrative, the King's head was -seen to straighten up a little and one eye opened. "Do you know if any -of those persons knew anything about ore and minerals?" he asked. - -"They did not," replied the parson. - -Then the King's head sank and both eyes closed. - -"The clergyman and his companions were very happy," continued the -speaker, without letting himself be disturbed by the King's -indifference; "they fancied that now they had found that which would -give them and their descendants wealth. 'I'll never have to do any more -work,' said one. 'Now I can afford to do nothing at all the whole week -through, and on Sundays I shall drive to church in a golden chariot!' -They were otherwise sensible men, but the great find had gone to their -heads and they talked like children. Still they had enough presence of -mind to put back the moss-tufts and conceal the vein of ore. Then they -carefully noted the place where it was, and went home. Before they -parted company, they agreed that the parson should travel to Falun and -ask the mining expert what kind of ore this was. He was to return as -soon as possible, and until then they promised one another on oath not -to reveal to a single soul where the ore was to be found." - -The King's head was raised again a trifle, but he did not interrupt the -speaker with a word. It appeared as though he was beginning to believe -that the man actually had something of importance he wished to say to -him, since he didn't allow himself to be disturbed by his indifference. - -"Then the parson departed with a few samples of ore in his pocket. He -was just as happy in the thought of becoming rich as the others were. He -was thinking of rebuilding the parsonage, which at present was no better -than a peasant's cottage, and then he would marry a dean's daughter whom -he liked. He had thought that he might have to wait for her many years! -He was poor and obscure and knew that it would be a long while before he -should get any post that would enable him to marry. - -"The parson drove over to Falun in two days, and there he had to wait -another whole day because the mining expert was away. Finally, he ran -across him and showed him the bits of ore. The mining expert took them -in his hand. He looked at them first, then at the parson. The parson -related how he had found them in a mountain at home in his parish, and -wondered if it might not be lead. - -"'No, it's not lead,' said the mining expert. - -"'Perhaps it is zinc, then?' asked the parson. - -"'Nor is it zinc,' said the mineralogist. - -"The parson thought that all the hope within him sank. He had not been -so depressed in many a long day. - -"'Have you many stones like these in your parish?' asked the -mineralogist. - -"'We have a whole mountain full,' said the parson. - -"Then the mineralogist came up closer, slapped the parson on the -shoulder, and said, 'Let us see that you make such good use of this that -it will prove a blessing both to yourselves and to the country, for this -is silver.' - -"'Indeed?' said the parson, feeling his way. 'So it is silver!' - -"The mineralogist began telling him how he should go to work to get -legal rights to the mine and gave him many valuable suggestions; but the -parson stood there dazed and didn't listen to what he was saying. He was -only thinking of how wonderful it was that at home in his poor parish -stood a whole mountain of silver ore, waiting for him." - -The King raised his head so suddenly that the parson stopped short in -his narrative. "It turned out, of course, that when he got home and -began working the mine, he saw that the mineralogist had only been -fooling him," said the King. - -"Oh, no, the mineralogist had not fooled him," said the parson. - -"You may continue," said the King, as he settled himself more -comfortably in the chair to listen. - -"When the parson was at home again and was driving through the parish," -continued the clergyman, "he thought that first of all he should inform -his partners of the value of their find. And as he drove alongside the -innkeeper Sten Stensson's place, he intended to drive up to the house to -tell him they had found silver. But when he stopped outside the gate, -he noticed that a broad path of evergreen was strewn all the way up to -the doorstep. - -"'Who has died in this place?' asked the parson of a boy who stood -leaning against the fence. - -"'The innkeeper himself,' answered the boy. Then he let the clergyman -know that the innkeeper had drunk himself full every day for a week. -'Oh, so much brandy, so much brandy has been drunk here!' - -"'How can that be?' asked the parson. 'The innkeeper used never to drink -himself full.' - -"'Oh,' said the boy, 'he drank because he said he had found a mine. He -was very rich. He should never have to do anything now but drink, he -said. Last night he drove off, full as he was, and the wagon turned over -and he was killed.' - -"When the parson heard this, he drove homeward. He was distressed over -what he had heard. He had come back so happy, rejoicing because he could -tell the great good news. - -"When the parson had driven a few paces, he saw Israel Per Persson -walking along. He looked about as usual, and the parson thought it was -well that fortune had not gone to his head too. Him he would cheer at -once with the news that he was a rich man. - -"'Good day!' said Per Persson. 'Do you come from Falun now?' - -"'I do,' said the parson. 'And now I must tell you that it has turned -out even better than we had imagined. The mineralogist said it was -silver ore that we had found.' - -"That instant Per Persson looked as though the ground under him had -opened! 'What are you saying, what are you saying? Is it silver?' - -"'Yes,' answered the parson. 'We'll all be rich men now, all of us, and -can live like gentlemen.' - -"'Oh, is it silver!' said Per Persson once again, looking more and more -mournful. - -"'Why, of course it is silver,' replied the parson. 'You mustn't think -that I want to deceive you. You mustn't be afraid of being happy.' - -"'Happy!' said Per Persson. 'Should I be happy? I believed it was only -glitter that we had found, so I thought it would be better to take the -certain for the uncertain: I have sold my share in the mine to Olaf -Svärd for a hundred dollars.' He was desperate, and when the parson -drove away from him, he stood on the highway and wept. - -"When the clergyman got back to his home, he sent a servant to Olaf -Svärd and his brother to tell them that it was silver they had found. -He thought that he had had quite enough of driving around and spreading -the good news. - -"But in the evening, when the parson sat alone, his joy asserted itself -again. He went out in the darkness and stood on a hillock upon which he -contemplated building the new parsonage. It should be imposing, of -course, as fine as a bishop's palace. He stood out there long that -night; nor did he content himself with rebuilding the parsonage! It -occurred to him that, since there were such riches to be found in the -parish, throngs of people would pour in and, finally, a whole city would -be built around the mine. And then he would have to erect a new church -in place of the old one. Towards this object a large portion of his -wealth would probably go. And he was not content with this, either, but -fancied that when his church was ready, the King and many bishops would -come to the dedication. Then the King would be pleased with the church, -but he would remark that there was no place where a king might put up, -and then he would have to erect a castle in the new city." - -Just then one of the King's courtiers opened the door of the vestry and -announced that the big royal coach was mended. - -At the first moment the King was ready to withdraw, but on second -thought he changed his mind. "You may tell your story to the end," he -said to the parson. "But you can hurry it a bit. We know all about how -the man thought and dreamed. We want to know how he acted." - -"But while the parson was still lost in his dreams," continued the -clergyman, "word came to him that Israel Per Persson had made away with -himself. He had not been able to bear the disappointment of having sold -his share in the mine. He had thought, no doubt, that he could not -endure to go about every day seeing another enjoying the wealth that -might have been his." - -The King straightened up a little. He kept both eyes open. "Upon my -word," he said, "if I had been that parson, I should have had enough of -the mine!" - -"The King is a rich man," said the parson. "He has quite enough, at all -events. It is not the same thing with a poor curate who possesses -nothing. The unhappy wretch thought instead, when he saw that God's -blessing was not with his enterprise: 'I will dream no more of bringing -glory and profit to myself with these riches; but I can't let the silver -lie buried in the earth! I must take it out, for the benefit of the -poor and needy. I will work the mine, to put the whole parish on its -feet.' - -"So one day the parson went out to see Olaf Svärd, to ask him and his -brother as to what should be done immediately with the silver mountain. -When he came in the vicinity of the barracks, he met a cart surrounded -by armed peasants, and in the cart sat a man with his hands tied behind -him and a rope around his ankles. - -"When the parson passed by, the cart stopped, and he had time to regard -the prisoner, whose head was tied up so it wasn't easy to see who he -was. But the parson thought he recognized Olaf Svärd. He heard the -prisoner beg those who guarded him to let him speak a few words with the -parson. - -"The parson drew nearer, and the prisoner turned toward him. 'You will -soon be the only one who knows where the silver mine is,' said Olaf. - -"'What are you saying, Olaf?' asked the parson. - -"'Well, you see, parson, since we have learned that it was a silver mine -we had found, my brother and I could no longer be as good friends as -before. We were continually quarrelling. Last night we got into a -controversy over which one of us five it was who first discovered the -mine. It ended in strife between us, and we came to blows. I have killed -my brother and he has left me with a souvenir across the forehead to -remember him by. I must hang now, and then you will be the only one who -knows anything about the mine; therefore I wish to ask something of -you.' - -"'Speak out!' said the parson. 'I'll do what I can for you.' - -"'You know that l am leaving several little children behind me,' began -the soldier, but the parson interrupted him. - -"'As regards this, you can rest easy. That which comes to your share in -the mine, they shall have, exactly as if you yourself were living.' - -"'No,' said Olaf Svärd, 'it was another thing I wanted to ask of you. -Don't let them have any portion of that which comes from the mine!' - -"The parson staggered back a step. He stood there dumb and could not -answer. - -"'If you do not promise me this, I cannot die in peace,' said the -prisoner. - -"'Yes,' said the parson slowly and painfully. 'I promise you what you -ask of me.' - -"Thereupon the murderer was taken away, and the parson stood on the -highway thinking how he should keep the promise he had given him. On -the way home he thought of the wealth which he had been so happy over. -But if it really were true that the people in this community could not -stand riches?--Already four were ruined, who hitherto had been dignified -and excellent men. He seemed to see the whole community before him, and -he pictured to himself how this silver mine would destroy one after -another. Was it befitting that he, who had been appointed to watch over -these poor human beings' souls, should let loose upon them that which -would be their destruction?" - -All of a sudden the King sat bolt upright in his chair. "I declare!" -said he, "you'll make me understand that a parson in this isolated -settlement must be every inch a man." - -"Nor was it enough with what had already happened," continued the -parson, "for as soon as the news about the mine spread among the -parishioners, they stopped working and went about in idleness, waiting -for the time when great riches should pour in on them. All the -ne'er-do-wells there were in this section streamed in, and drunkenness -and fighting were what the parson heard talked of continually. A lot of -people did nothing but tramp round in the forest searching for the mine, -and the parson marked that as soon as he left the house people followed -him stealthily to find out if he wasn't going to the silver mountain and -to steal the secret from him. - -"When matters were come to this pass, the parson called the peasants -together to vote. To start with, he reminded them of all the misfortunes -which the discovery of the mountain had brought upon them, and he asked -them if they were going to let themselves be ruined or if they would -save themselves. Then he told them that they must not expect him, who -was their spiritual adviser, to help on their destruction. Now he had -decided not to reveal to any one where the silver mine was, and never -would he himself take riches from it. And then he asked the peasants how -they would have it henceforth. If they wished to continue their search -for the mine and wait upon riches, then he would go so far away that not -a hearsay of their misery could reach him; but if they would give up -thinking about the silver mine and be as heretofore, he would remain -with them. 'Whichever way you may choose,' said the parson, 'remember -this, that from me no one shall ever know anything about the silver -mountain!'" - -"Well," said the King, "how did they decide?" - -"They did as their pastor wished," said the parson. "They understood -that he meant well by them when he wanted to remain poor for their -sakes. And they commissioned him to go to the forest and conceal the -vein of ore with evergreen and stone, so that no one would be able to -find it--neither they themselves nor their posterity." - -"And ever since the parson has been living here just as poor as the -rest?" - -"Yes," answered the curate, "he has lived here just as poor as the -rest." - -"He has married, of course, and built himself a new parsonage?" said the -King. - -"No, he couldn't afford to marry, and he lives in the old cabin." - -"It's a pretty story that you have told me," said the King. After a few -seconds he resumed: "Was it of the silver mountain that you were -thinking when you said that the parson here would be able to procure for -me as much money as I need?" - -"Yes," said the other. - -"But I can't put the thumb-screws on him," said the King. "Or how would -you that I should get such a man to show me the mountain--a man who has -renounced his sweetheart and all the allurements of life?" - -"Oh, that's a different matter," said the parson. "But if it's the -Fatherland that is in need of the fortune, he will probably give in." - -"Will you answer for that?" asked the King. - -"Yes, that I will answer for," said the clergyman. - -"Doesn't he care, then, what becomes of his parishioners?" - -"That can rest in God's hand." - -The King rose from the chair and walked over to the window. He stood for -a moment and looked upon the group of people outside. The longer he -looked, the clearer his large eyes shone, and his figure seemed to grow. -"You may greet the pastor of this congregation, and say that for -Sweden's King there is no sight more beautiful than to see a people such -as this!" - -Then the King turned from the window and looked at the clergyman. He -began to smile. "Is it true that the pastor of this parish is so poor -that he removes his black clothes as soon as the service is over and -dresses himself like a peasant?" asked the King. - -"Yes, so poor is he," said the curate, and a crimson flush leaped into -his rough-hewn face. - -The King went back to the window. One could see that he was in his best -mood. All that was noble and great within him had been quickened into -life. "You must let that mine lie in peace," said the King. "Inasmuch -as you have labored and starved a lifetime to make this people such as -you would have it, you may keep it as it is." - -"But if the kingdom is in danger?" said the parson. - -"The kingdom is better served with men than with money," remarked the -King. When he had said this, he bade the clergyman farewell and went out -from the vestry. - -Without stood the group of people, as quiet and taciturn as they were -when he went in. As the King came down the steps, a peasant stepped up -to him. - -"Have you had a talk with our pastor?" said the peasant. - -"Yes," said the King. "I have talked with him." - -"Then of course you have our answer?" said the peasant. "We asked you to -go in and talk with our parson, that he might give you an answer from -us." - -"I have the answer," said the King. - - - - -The Airship - - -Father and the boys are seated one rainy October evening in a -third-class railway coach on their way to Stockholm. The father is -sitting by himself on one bench, and the boys sit close together -directly opposite him, reading a Jules Verne romance entitled "Six Weeks -in a Balloon." The book is much worn. The boys know it almost by heart -and have held endless discussions on it, but they always read it with -the same pleasure. They have forgotten everything else to follow the -daring sailors of the air all over Africa, and seldom raise their eyes -from the book to glance at the Swedish towns they are travelling -through. - -The boys are very like each other. They are the same height, are dressed -alike, with blue caps and gray overcoats, and both have large dreamy -eyes and little pug noses. They are always good friends, always -together, do not bother with other children, and are forever talking -about inventions and exploring expeditions. In point of talent they are -quite unlike. Lennart, the elder, who is thirteen, is backward in his -studies at the High School and can hardly keep up with his class in any -theme. To make up for this, he is very handy and enterprising. He is -going to be an inventor and works all the time on a flying-machine which -he is constructing. Hugo is a year younger than Lennart, but he is -quicker at study and is already in the same grade as his brother. He -doesn't find studying any special fun, either; but, on the other hand, -he is a great sportsman--a ski-runner, a cyclist, and a skater. He -intends to start out on voyages of discovery when he is grown up. As -soon as Lennart's airship is ready, Hugo is going to travel in it in -order to explore what is still left of this globe to be discovered. - -Their father is a tall thin man with a sunken chest, a haggard face, and -pretty, slender hands. He is carelessly dressed. His shirt bosom is -wrinkled and the coat band pokes up at the neck; his vest is buttoned -wrongly and his socks sag down over his shoes. He wears his hair so long -at the neck that it hangs on his coat collar. This is due not to -carelessness, but to habit and taste. - -The father is a descendant of an old musical family from far back in a -rural district, and he has brought with him into the world two strong -inclinations, one of which is a great musical talent; and it was this -that first came into the light. He was graduated from the Academy in -Stockholm and then studied a few years abroad, and during these study -years made such brilliant progress that both he and his teacher thought -he would some day be a great and world-renowned violinist. He certainly -had talent enough to reach the goal, but he lacked grit and -perseverance. He couldn't fight his way to any sort of standing out in -the world, but soon came home again and accepted a situation as organist -in a country town. At the start he felt ashamed because he had not lived -up to the expectations of every one, but he felt, also, that it was good -to have an assured income and not be forced to depend any longer upon -the charity of others. - -Shortly after he had got the appointment, he married, and a few years -later he was perfectly satisfied with his lot. He had a pretty little -home, a cheerful and contented wife, and two little boys. He was the -town favorite, feted, and in great demand everywhere. But then there -came a time when all this did not seem to satisfy him. He longed to go -out in the world once more and try his luck; but he felt bound down at -home because he had a wife and children. - -More than all, it was the wife who had persuaded him to give up this -journey. She had not believed that he would succeed any better now than -before. She felt they were so happy that there was no need for him to -strive after anything else. Unquestionably she made a mistake in this -instance, but she also lived to regret it bitterly, for, from that time -on, the other family trait showed itself. When his yearning for success -and fame was not satisfied, he tried to console himself with drinking. - -Now it turned out with him, as was usual with folk of his family--he -drank inordinately. By degrees he became an entirely different person. -He was no longer charming or lovable, but harsh and cruel; and the -greatest misfortune of all was that he conceived a terrible hatred for -his wife and tortured her in every conceivable way, both when he was -drunk and when he wasn't. - -So the boys did not have a good home, and their childhood would have -been very unhappy had they not been able to create for themselves a -little world of their own, filled with machine models, exploring -schemes, and books of adventure. The only one who has ever caught a -glimpse of this world is the mother. The father hasn't even a suspicion -of its existence, nor can he talk with the boys about anything that -interests them. He disturbs them, time and again, by asking if they -don't think it will be fun to see Stockholm; if they are not glad to be -out travelling with father, and other things in that way, to which the -boys give brief replies, in order that they may immediately bury -themselves in the book again. Nevertheless the father continues to -question the boys. He thinks they are charmed with his affability, -although they are too bashful to show it. - -"They have been too long under petticoat rule," he thinks. "They have -become timid and namby-pamby. There will be some go in them now, when I -take them in hand." - -Father is mistaken. It is not because the boys are bashful that they -answer him so briefly; it simply shows that they are well brought up and -do not wish to hurt his feelings. If they were not polite, they would -answer him in a very different manner. "Why should we think it fun to be -travelling with father?" they would then say. "Father must think himself -something wonderful, but we know, of course, that he is only a poor -wreck of a man. And why should we be glad to see Stockholm? We -understand very well that it is not for our sakes that father has taken -us along, but only to make mother unhappy!" - -It would be wiser, no doubt, if the father were to let the boys read -without interrupting them. They are sad and apprehensive, and it -irritates them to see him in a good humor. "It is only because he knows -that mother is sitting at home crying that he is so happy to-day," they -whisper to each other. - -Father's questions finally bring matters to this pass: the boys read no -more, although they continue to sit bent over the book. Instead, their -thoughts begin in bitterness to embrace all that they have had to endure -on their father's account. - -They remember the time when he drank himself full in the morning and -came staggering up the street, with a crowd of school boys after him, -who poked fun at him. They recall how the other boys teased them and -gave them nicknames because they had a father who drank. - -They have been put to shame for their father. They have been forced to -live in a state of constant anxiety for his sake, and as soon as they -were having any enjoyment, he always came and spoiled their fun. It is -no small register of sins that they are setting down against him! The -boys are very meek and patient, but they feel a greater and greater -wrath springing up in them. - -He should at least understand that, as yet, they cannot forgive him for -the great wrong he did them yesterday. This was by far the worst wrong -he had ever done them. - -It seems that, last year, mother and the boys decided to part from -father. For a number of years he had been persecuting and torturing her -in every possible way, but she was loath to part from him and remained, -so that he wouldn't go altogether to rack and ruin. But now, at last, -she wanted to do it for the sake of her boys. She had noticed that their -father made them unhappy, and realized that she must take them away from -this misery and provide them with a good and peaceable home. - -When the spring school-term was over, she sent them to her parents in -the country, and she herself went abroad in order to obtain a divorce in -the easiest way possible. She regretted that, by going about it in this -way, it would appear as though it were her fault that the marriage was -dissolved; but that she must submit to. She was even less pleased when -the courts turned the boys over to the father because she was a run-away -wife. She consoled herself with the thought that he couldn't possibly -wish to keep the children; but she had felt quite ill at ease. - -As soon as the divorce was settled, she came back and took a small -apartment where she and the boys were to live. In two days she had -everything in readiness, so that they could come home to her. - -It was the happiest day the boys had experienced. The entire apartment -consisted of one large living-room and a big kitchen, but everything was -new and pretty, and mother had arranged the place so cosily. The big -room she and they were to use daytimes as a work-room, and nights they -were to sleep there. The kitchen was light and comfortable. There they -would eat, and in a little closet off the kitchen mother had her bed. - -She had told them that they would be very poor. She had secured a place -as singing-teacher at the girls' school, and this was all they had to -live upon. They couldn't afford to keep a servant, but must get along -all by themselves. The boys were in ecstasies over everything--most of -all, because they might help along. They volunteered to carry water and -wood. They were to brush their own shoes and make their own beds. It was -only fun to think up all that they were going to do! - -There was a little wardrobe, in which Lennart was to keep all his -mechanical apparatus. He was to have the key himself, and no one but -Hugo and he should ever go in there. - -But the boys were allowed to be happy with their mother only for a -single day. Afterwards their father spoiled their pleasure, as he had -always done as far back as they could remember. Mother told them she had -heard that their father had received a legacy of a few thousand kronor, -and that he had resigned from his position as organist and was going to -move to Stockholm. Both they and mother were glad that he was leaving -town, so they would escape meeting him on the streets. And then a friend -of father's had called on mother to tell her that father wanted to take -the boys with him to Stockholm. - -Mother had wept and begged that she might keep her boys, but father's -messenger had answered her that her husband was determined to have the -boys under his guardianship. If they did not come willingly, he would -let the police fetch them. He bade mother read through the divorce -papers, and there it said plainly that the boys would belong to their -father. This, of course, she already knew. It was not to be gainsaid. - -Father's friend had said many nice things of father and had told her of -how much he loved his sons, and for this reason he wanted them to be -with him. But the boys knew that father was taking them away solely for -the purpose of torturing mother. She would have to live in a state of -continual anxiety for them. The whole thing was nothing but malice and -revenge! - -But father had his own way, and here they were now, on their way to -Stockholm. And right opposite them their father sits, rejoicing in the -thought that he has made their mother unhappy. With every second that -passes, the thought of having to live with father becomes more -repellent. Are they then wholly in his power? Will there be no help for -this? - -Father leans back in his seat, and after a bit he falls asleep. -Immediately the boys begin whispering to each other very earnestly. It -isn't difficult for them to come to a decision. The whole day they have -been sitting there thinking that they ought to run away. They conclude -to steal out on the platform and to jump from the train when it goes -through a big forest. Then they will build them a hut in the most -secluded spot in the forest, and live all by themselves and never show -themselves to a human being. - -While the boys are laying their plans, the train stops at a station, and -a peasant woman, leading a little boy by the hand, comes into the coupé. -She is dressed in black, with a shawl on her head, and has a kind and -friendly appearance. She removes the little one's overcoat, which is wet -from the rain, and wraps a shawl around him. Then she takes off his -shoes and stockings, dries his little cold feet, takes from a bundle dry -shoes and stockings and puts them on him. Then she gives him a stick of -candy and lays him down on the seat with his head resting on her lap, -that he might sleep. - -First one boy, then the other casts a glance over at the peasant woman. -These glances become more frequent, and suddenly the eyes of both boys -fill with tears. Then they look up no more, but keep their eyes -obstinately lowered. - -It seems that when the peasant woman entered some one else--some one who -was invisible and imperceptible to all save the boys--came into the -coupé. The boys fancied that she came and sat down between them and took -their hands in hers, as she had done late last night, when it was -settled that they must leave her; and she was talking to them now as she -did then. "You must promise me that you will not be angry with father -for my sake. Father has never been able to forgive me for preventing him -from going abroad. He thinks it is my fault that he has never amounted -to anything and that he drinks. He can never punish me enough. But you -mustn't be angry at him on that account. Now, when you are to live with -father, you must promise me that you will be kind to him. You mustn't -quarrel with him and you are to look after his needs as well as you can. -This you must promise me, otherwise I don't know how I can ever let you -go." And the boys promised. "You mustn't run away from father, promise -me that!" mother had said. That they had also promised. - -The boys are as good as their word, and the instant they happen to think -that they had given mother these promises, they abandon all thought of -flight. Father sleeps all the while and they remain patiently in their -places. Then they resume their reading with redoubled zeal, and their -friend, the good Jules Verne, soon takes them away from many heavy -sorrows to Africa's happy wonder world. - -Far out on the south side of the city, father has rented two rooms and a -kitchen on the ground floor, with an entrance from the court and an -outlook over a narrow yard. The apartment has long been in use; it has -gone from family to family, without ever having been renovated. The wall -paper is full of tears and spots; the ceilings are sooty; a couple of -window-panes are cracked, and the kitchen floor is so worn that it is -full of ruts. Expressmen have brought the furniture cases from the -railway station and have left them there, helter skelter. Father and the -boys are now unpacking. Father stands with axe raised to hack open a -box. The boys are taking out glass and porcelain ware from another box, -and are arranging them in a wall cupboard. They are handy and work -eagerly, but the father never stops cautioning them to be careful, and -forbids their carrying more than one glass or plate at a time. Meanwhile -it goes slowly with father's own work. His hands are fumbly and -powerless, and he works himself into a sweat without getting the lock -off the box. He lays down the axe, walks around the box, and wonders if -it's the bottom that is uppermost. Then one of the boys takes hold of -the axe and begins to bend the lock, but father pushes him aside. "That -lock is nailed down too hard. Surely you don't imagine that you can -force the lock when father couldn't do it? Only a regular workman can -open that box," says father, putting on his hat and coat to go and fetch -the janitor. - -Father is hardly outside the door when an idea strikes him. Instantly he -understands why he has no strength in his hands. It is still quite early -in the morning and he has not consumed anything which could set the -blood in motion. If he were to step into a café and have a cognac, he -would get back his strength and could manage without help. This is -better than calling the janitor. - -Then father goes into the street to try and hunt up a café. When he -returns to the little apartment on the court, it is eight o'clock in the -evening. - -In father's youth, when he attended the Academy, he had lived at the -south end of the city. He was then a member of a double quartette, -mostly made up of choristers and petty tradesmen, who used to meet in a -cellar near Mosebacke. Father had taken a notion to go and see if the -little cellar was still there. It was, in fact, and father had the luck -to run across a pair of old comrades who were seated there having their -breakfast. They had received him with the greatest delight, had invited -him to breakfast, and had celebrated his advent in Stockholm in the -friendliest way possible. When the breakfast was over, finally, father -wanted to go home and unpack his furniture, but his friends persuaded -him to remain and take dinner with them. This function was so long drawn -out that he hadn't been able to go home until around eight o'clock. And -it had cost him more than a slight effort to tear himself away from the -lively place that early. - -When father comes home, the boys are in the dark, for they have no -matches. Father has a match in his pocket, and when he has lighted a -little stump of a candle, which luckily had come along with their -furnishings, he sees that the boys are hot and dusty, but well and happy -and apparently very well pleased with their day. - -In the rooms the furniture is arranged alongside the walls, the boxes -have been removed and straw and papers have been swept away. Hugo is -just turning down the boys' beds in the outer room. The inner room is to -be father's bedroom, and there stands his bed, turned down with as great -care as he could possibly wish. - -Now a sudden revulsion of feeling possesses him. When he came home, he -was displeased with himself because he had gone away from his work and -had left the boys without food; but now, when he sees that they are in -good spirits and not in any distress, he regrets that, for their sakes, -he should have left his friends; and he becomes irritable and -quarrelsome. - -He sees, no doubt, that the boys are proud of all the work they have -accomplished and expect him to praise them; but this he is not at all -inclined to do. Instead, he asks who has been here and helped them, and -begs them to remember that here in Stockholm one gets nothing without -money, and that the janitor must be paid for all he does. The boys -answer that they have had no assistance and have got on by themselves. -But father continues to grumble. It was wrong of them to open the big -box. They might have hurt themselves on it. Had he not forbidden them to -open it? Now they would have to obey him. He is the one who must answer -for their welfare. - -He takes the candle, goes out into the kitchen, and peeps into the -cupboards. The scanty supply of glass and porcelain is arranged on the -shelves in an orderly manner. He scrutinizes everything very carefully -to find an excuse for further complaint. - -All of a sudden he catches sight of some leavings from the boys' supper, -and begins immediately to grumble because they have had chicken. Where -did they get it from? Do they think of living like princes? Is it his -money they are throwing away on chicken? Then he remembers that he had -not left them any money. He wonders if they have stolen the chicken and -becomes perturbed. He preaches and admonishes, scolds and fusses, but -now he gets no response from the boys. They do not bother themselves -about telling him where they got the chicken, but let him go on. He -makes long speeches and exhausts his forces. Finally he begs and -implores. - -"I beseech you to tell me the truth. I will forgive you, no matter what -you have done, if you will only tell me the truth!" - -Now the boys can hold in no longer. Father hears a spluttering sound. -They throw off the quilts and sit up, and he notices that they are -purple in the face from suppressed laughter. And as they can laugh now -without restraint, Lennart says between the paroxysms, "Mother put a -chicken in the food sack which she gave us when we left home." - -Father, draws himself up, looks at the boys, wants to speak, but finds -no suitable words. He becomes even more majestic in his bearing, looks -with withering scorn at them, and goes to his room without further -parley. - - * * * * * - -It has dawned upon father how handy the boys are, and he makes use of -this fact to escape hiring servants. Mornings he sends Lennart into the -kitchen to make coffee and lets Hugo lay the breakfast-table and fetch -bread from the baker's. After breakfast he sits down on a chair and -watches how the boys make up the beds, sweep the floors, and build a -fire in the grate. He gives endless orders and sends them from one task -to another, only to show his authority. When the morning chores are -over, he goes out and remains away all the forenoon. The dinner he lets -them fetch from a cooking-school in the neighborhood. After dinner he -leaves the boys for the evening, and exacts nothing more of them than -that his bed shall be turned down when he comes home. - -The boys are practically alone almost the entire day and can busy -themselves in any way they choose. - -One of their most important tasks is to write to their mother. They get -letters from her every day, and she sends them paper and postage, so -that they can answer her. Mother's letters are mostly admonitions that -they shall be good to their father. She writes constantly of how lovable -father was when she first knew him, of how industrious and thrifty he -was at the beginning of his career. They must be tender and kind to him. -They must never forget how unhappy he is. "If you are very good to -father, perhaps he may feel sorry for you and let you come home to me." - -Mother tells them that she has called to see the dean and the -burgomaster to ask if it were not possible to get back the boys. Both of -them had replied that there was no help for her. The boys would have to -stay with their father. Mother wants to move to Stockholm that she may -see her boys once in a while, at least, but every one advises her to -have patience and abide her time. They think father will soon tire of -the boys and send them home. Mother doesn't quite know what she should -do. On the one hand she thinks it dreadful that the boys are living in -Stockholm with no one to look after them, and on the other hand she -knows that if she were to leave her home and her work, she could not -take them and support them, even if they were freed. But for Christmas, -at all events, mother is coming to Stockholm to look after them. - -The boys write and tell her what they do all day, hour by hour. They let -mother know that they cook for father and make his bed. She apprehends -that they are trying to be kind to him for her sake, but she probably -perceives that they like him no better now than formerly. - -Her little boys appear to be always alone. They live in a large city, -where there are lots of people, but no one asks after them. And perhaps -it is better thus. Who can tell what might happen to them were they to -make any acquaintances? - -They always beg of her not to be uneasy about them. They tell how they -darn their stockings and sew on their buttons. They also intimate that -Lennart has made great headway with his invention and say that when this -is finished all will be well. - -Mother lives in a state of continual fear. Night and day her thoughts -are with her boys. Night and day she prays God to watch over her little -sons, who live alone in a great city, with no one to shield them from -the temptations of the destroyer, and to keep their young hearts from -the desire for evil. - - * * * * * - -Father and the boys are sitting one morning at the Opera. One of -father's old comrades, who is with the Royal Orchestra, has invited him -to be present at a symphony rehearsal, and father has taken the boys -along. When the orchestra strikes up and the auditorium is filled with -tone, father is so affected that he can't control himself, and begins to -weep. He sobs and blows his nose and moans aloud, time and again. He -puts no restraint upon his feelings, but makes such a noise that the -musicians are disturbed. A guard comes along and beckons him away, and -father takes the boys by the hand and slinks out without a word of -protest. All the way home his tears continue to flow. - -Father is walking on, with a boy on each side, and he has kept their -hands in his all the while. Suddenly the boys start crying. They -understand now for the first time how much father has loved his art. It -was painful for him to sit there, besotten and broken, and listen to -others playing. They feel sorry for him who had never become what he -might have been. It was with father as it might be with Lennart were he -never to finish his flying-machine, or with Hugo if he were not to make -any voyages of discovery. Think if they should one day sit like old -good-for-nothings and see fine airships sailing over their heads which -they had not invented and were not allowed to pilot! - - * * * * * - -The boys were sitting one morning on opposite sides of the -writing-table. Father had taken a music roll under his arm and gone out. -He had mumbled something about giving a music lesson, but the boys had -not for a moment been tempted into believing this true. - -Father is in an ugly mood as he walks up the street. He noticed the look -the boys exchanged when he said that he was going to a music lesson. -"They are setting themselves up as judges of their father," he thinks. -"I am too indulgent toward them. I should have given them each a sound -box on the ear. It's their mother, I dare say, who is setting them -against me. Suppose I were to keep an eye on the fine gentlemen?" he -continues. "It would do no harm to find out how they attend to their -lessons." - -He turns back, walks quietly across the court, opens the door very -softly, and stands in the boys' room without either of them having heard -him coming. The boys jump up, red in the face, and Lennart quickly -snatches a bundle of papers which he throws into the table drawer. - -When the boys had been in Stockholm a day or two, they had asked which -school they were to attend, and the father had replied that their -school-going days were over now. He would try and procure a private -tutor who would teach them. This proposition he had never carried into -effect, nor had the boys said anything more about going to school. But -in less than a week a school chart was discovered hanging on the wall in -the boys' room. The school books had been brought forth, and every -morning they sat on opposite sides of an old writing-table and studied -their lessons aloud. It was evident that they had received letters from -their mother counselling them to try and study, so as not to forget -entirely what they had learned. - -Now, as father unexpectedly comes into the room, he goes up to the chart -first and studies it. He takes out his watch and compares. "Wednesday, -between ten and eleven, Geography." Then he comes up to the table. -"Shouldn't you have geography at this hour?" - -"Yes," the boys reply, growing flame-red in the face. - -"Have you the geography and the map?" - -The boys glance over at the book shelf and look confused. "We haven't -begun yet," says Lennart. - -"Indeed!" says father. "You must have been up to something else." He -straightens up, thoroughly pleased with himself. He has an advantage, -which he doesn't care to let go until he has browbeaten them very -effectually. - -Both boys are silent. Ever since the day they accompanied father to the -Opera, they have felt sympathy for him, and it has not been such an -effort for them to be kind to him as it was before. But, naturally, they -haven't for a moment thought of taking father into their confidence. He -has not risen in their estimation although they are sorry for him. - -"Were you writing letters?" father asks in his severest tone. - -"No," say both boys at the same time. - -"What were you doing?" - -"Oh, just talking." - -"That isn't true. I saw that Lennart hid something in the drawer of the -table." - -Now both boys are mum again. - -"Take it out!" shouts the father, purple with rage. He thinks the sons -have written to his wife, and, since they don't care to show the letter, -of course there is something mean about him in it. - -The boys do not stir, and father raises his hand to strike Lennart, who -is sitting before the table drawer. - -"Don't touch him!" cries Hugo. "We were only talking over something -which Lennart has invented." - -Hugo pushes Lennart aside, opens the drawer, and pulls out the paper, -which is scrawled full of airships of the most extraordinary shapes. -"Last night Lennart thought out a new kind of sail for his airship. It -was of this we were speaking." - -Father wouldn't believe him. He bends over, searches in the drawer, but -finds only sheets of paper covered with drawings of balloons, -parachutes, flying-machines, and everything else appertaining to -air-sailing. - -To the great surprise of the boys, father does not cast this aside at -once, nor does he laugh at their attempts, but examines closely sheet -after sheet. As a matter of fact, father, too, has a little leaning -toward mechanics, and was interested in things of this sort in days gone -by, when his brain was still good for something. Soon he begins to ask -questions as to the meaning of one thing and another, and inasmuch as -his words betray that he is deeply interested and understands what he -sees, Lennart fights his bashfulness, and answers him, hesitatingly at -first and then more willingly. - -Soon father and boys are absorbed in a profound discussion about -airships and air-sailing. After they are fairly well started, the boys -chatter unreservedly and give father a share in their plans and dreams -of greatness. And while the father comprehends, of course, that the boys -cannot fly very far with the airship which they have constructed, he is -very much impressed. His little sons talk of aluminum motors, -aeroplanes, and balancers, as though they were the simplest things in -the world. He had thought them regular blockheads because they didn't -get on very fast at school. Now, all at once, he believes they are a -pair of little scientists. - -The high-soaring thoughts and aspirations father understands better than -anything else; he cognizes them. He himself has dreamed in the same -way, and he has no desire to laugh at such dreams. - -Father doesn't go out again that morning, but sits and chats with the -boys until it is time to fetch the food for dinner and set the table. -And at that meal father and the boys are real good friends, to their -great and mutual astonishment. - - * * * * * - -The hour is eleven at night, and father is staggering up the street. The -little boys are walking on either side of him, and he holds their hands -tightly clasped in his all the while. - -They have sought him out in one of his haunts, where they have stationed -themselves just inside the door. Father sits by himself at a table with -a big brown toddy in front of him, and listens to a ladies' orchestra -which is playing at the other end of the hall. After a moment's -hesitancy he rises reluctantly and goes over to the boys. "What is it?" -he asks. "Why do you come here?" - -"Father was to come home," they say. "This is the fifth of December. -Father promised--" - -Then he remembers that Lennart had confided to him that it was Hugo's -birthday and that he had promised him to come home early. But this he -had entirely forgotten. Hugo was probably expecting a birthday present -from him, but he had not remembered to get him one. - -At any rate, he has gone with the boys and is walking along, displeased -with them and with himself. When he comes home, the birthday table is -laid. The boys had wished to give a little party. Lennart had creamed -some pancakes, which are now a few hours old and look like pieces of -leather. They had received a little money from their mother, and with -this they had bought nuts, raisins, and a bottle of soda-water. - -This fine feast they did not care to enjoy all by themselves, and they -had been sitting and waiting for father to come home and share it with -them. Now, since they and father have become friends, they cannot -celebrate such a big event without him. Father understands it all, and -the thought of being missed flatters him and puts him in a fairly good -humor. Half full as he is, he plumps himself down at the table. Just as -he is about to take his place he stumbles, clutches at the table-cloth, -falls, and draws down on the floor everything on the table. As he raises -himself, he sees how the soda flows out over the floor and pickles and -pancakes are strewn about among bits of porcelain and broken glass. - -Father glances at the boys' long faces, rips out an oath, and makes a -rush for the door, and he doesn't come back home until on towards -morning. - - * * * * * - -One morning in February, the boys are coming up the street with their -skates dangling from their shoulders. They are not quite like -themselves. They have grown thin and pale and look untidy and uncared -for. Their hair is uncut; they are not well washed and they have holes -in both stockings and shoes. When they address each other, they use a -lot of street-boy expressions, and one and another oath escapes from -their lips. - -A change has taken place in the boys. It had its beginning on the -evening when their father forgot to come home to help celebrate Hugo's -birthday. It was as if until that time they had been kept up by the hope -that soon their father would be a changed man. - -At first they had counted on his tiring of them and sending them home. -Later, they had fancied that he would become fond of them and give up -drinking for their sakes, and they had even imagined that mother and he -might become reconciled and that all of them would be happy. But it -dawned upon them that night that father was impossible. He could love -nothing but drink. Even if he were kind to them for a little while, he -didn't really care for them. - -A heavy hopelessness fell upon the boys; nothing would ever be changed -for them. They should never get away from father. They felt as though -they were doomed to sit shut in a dark prison all their lives. Not even -their great plans for the future could comfort them. In the way that -they were bound down, these plans could never be carried out. Only -think, they were not learning anything! They knew enough of the -histories of great men to know that he who wants to accomplish anything -noteworthy must first of all have knowledge. - -Still the hardest blow was that mother did not come to them at -Christmas. In the beginning of December she had fallen down stairs and -broken her leg, and was forced to lie in a hospital during the Christmas -holidays, therefore she could not come to Stockholm. Now that mother was -up, her school had begun again. Apart from this, she had no money with -which to travel. The little that she had saved was spent while she lay -ill. - -The boys felt themselves deserted by the whole world. It was obvious -that it never would be any better for them, no matter how good they -were! So, gradually, they ceased to exert themselves with the sort of -things that were tiresome. They might just as well do that which amused -them. - -The boys began to shirk their morning studies. No one heard their -lessons, so what was the use of their studying? There had been good -skating for a couple of days and they might as well play truant all day. -On the ice there were always throngs of boys, and they had made the -acquaintance of a number who also preferred skating to being shut in the -house with their books. - -It has turned out to be such a fine day that it is impossible to think -of staying indoors. The weather is so clear and sunny that the school -children have been granted skating leave. The whole street is filled -with children, who have been home to get their skates and are now -hurrying down to the ice. - -The boys, as they move among the other children, appear solemn and -low-spirited. Not a smile lights up their faces. Their misfortune is so -heavy that they cannot forget it for a second. - -When they come down on the ice, it is full of life and movement. All -along the edges it is bordered with a tight mass of people; farther -out, the skaters circle around one another, like gnats, and still -farther out, solitary black specks that float along at lightning speed -are seen. - -The boys buckle on their skates and join the other skaters. They skate -very well, and as they glide out on the ice, full speed, they get color -in their cheeks and their eyes sparkle, but not for a moment do they -appear happy, like other children. - -All of a sudden, as they are making a turn toward land, they catch sight -of something very pretty. A big balloon comes from the direction of -Stockholm and is sailing out toward Salt Lake. It is striped in reds and -yellows, and when the sun strikes it it glitters like a ball of fire. -The basket is decorated with many-hued flags, and as the balloon does -not fly very high the bright color-play can be seen quite plainly. - -When the boys spy the balloon, they send up a shriek of delight. It is -the first time in their lives that they have seen a big balloon sailing -through the air. All the dreams and plans which have been their -consolation and joy during the many trying days come back to them when -they see it. They stand still that they may observe how the ropes and -lines are fastened; and they take note of the anchor and the sand bags -on the edge of the car. - -The balloon moves with good speed over the ice-bound fiord. All the -skaters, big and little, dart around one another, laughing and hooting -at it when it first comes into sight, and then they bound after it. They -follow it out to sea, in a long swaying line, like a drag line. The -air-sailors amuse themselves by scattering handfuls of paper strips in a -variety of colors, which come circling down slowly through the blue air. - -The boys are foremost in the long line that is chasing after the -balloon. They hurry forward, with heads thrown back, and gaze steadily -turned upward. Their eyes dance with delight for the first time since -they parted from their mother. They are beside themselves with -excitement over the airship and think of nothing else than to follow it -as long as possible. - -But the balloon moves ahead rapidly, and one has to be a good skater not -to be left behind. The crowd chasing after it thins down, but in the -lead of those who keep up the pursuit the two little boys are seen. -Afterwards people said there was something strange about them. They -neither laughed nor shouted, but on their upturned faces there was a -look of transport--as though they had seen a heavenly vision. - -The balloon also affects the boys like a celestial guide, who has come -to lead them back to the right path and teach them how to go forward -with renewed courage. When the boys see it, their hearts bound with -longing to begin work again on the great invention. Once more they feel -confident and happy. If only they are patient, they'll probably work -their way toward success. A day will surely come when they can step into -their own airship and soar aloft in space. Some day _they_ will be the -ones who travel up there, far above the people, and _their_ airship will -be more perfect than the one they now see. Theirs shall be an airship -that can be steered and turned, lowered and raised, sail against wind -and without wind. It shall carry them by day and by night, wherever they -may wish to travel. They shall descend to the highest mountain peaks, -travel over the dreariest deserts, and explore the most inaccessible -regions. They shall behold all the glories of the world. - -"It isn't worth while to lose heart, Hugo," says Lennart. "We'll have a -fine time if we can only finish it!" - -Father and his ill-luck are things which do not concern them any more. -One who has something as great to strive for as they have cannot let -himself be hindered by anything so pitiable! - -The balloon gains in speed the farther out it comes. The skaters have -ceased following it. The only ones who continue the chase are the two -little boys. They move ahead as swiftly and lightly as if their feet had -taken on wings. - -Suddenly the people who stand on the shore and can look far out across -the fiord send up a great cry of horror and fear. They see that the -balloon, pursued all the while by the two children, sails away toward -the fairway, where there is open sea. "Open sea! It is open sea out -there!" the people shout. - -The skaters down on the ice hear the shouts and turn their eyes toward -the mouth of the fiord. They see how a strip of water shimmers in the -sunlight yonder. They see, also, that two little boys are skating toward -this strip, which they do not notice because their eyes are fixed on the -balloon; and not for a second do they turn them toward earth. - -The people are calling out with all their might and stamping on the ice. -Fast runners are hurrying on to stop them; but the little ones mark -nothing of all this, where they are chasing after the airship. They do -not know that they alone are following it. They hear no cries back of -them. They do not hear the splash and roar of the water ahead of them. -They see only the balloon, which as it were carries them with it. -Lennart already feels his own airship rising under him, and Hugo soars -away over the North Pole. - -The people on the ice and on the shore see how rapidly they are nearing -the open sea. For a second or two they are in such breathless suspense -that they can neither move nor cry out. It seems as if the two children -are under a magic spell--in their chase after a shining heavenly vision. - -The air-sailors up in the balloon have also caught a glimpse of the -little boys. They see that they are in danger and scream at them and -make warning gestures; but the boys do not understand them. When they -notice that the air-sailors are making signs at them, they think they -want to take them up into the car. They stretch their arms toward them, -overjoyed in the hope of accompanying them through the bright upper -regions. - -At this moment the boys have reached the sailing channel, and, with arms -uplifted, they skate down into the water and disappear without a cry for -help. The skaters, who have tried to reach them in time, are standing a -couple of seconds later on the edge of the ice, but the current has -carried their bodies under the ice, and no helping hand can reach -them. - - - - -The Wedding March - - -Now I'm going to tell a pretty story. - -A good many years ago there was to be a very big wedding at Svartsjö -parish in Vermland. - -First, there was to be a church ceremony and after that three days of -feasting and merrymaking, and every day while the festivities lasted -there was to be dancing from early morning till far into the night. - -Since there was to be so much dancing, it was of very great importance -to get a good fiddler, and Juryman Nils Olafsson, who was managing the -wedding, worried almost more over this than over anything else. - -The fiddler they had at Svartsjö he did not care to engage. His name was -Jan Öster. The Juryman knew, to be sure, that he had quite a big name; -but he was so poor that sometimes he would appear at a wedding in a -frayed jacket and without shoes to his feet. The Juryman didn't wish to -see such a ragtag at the head of the bridal procession, so he decided to -send a messenger to a musician in Jösse parish, who was commonly called -Fiddler Mårten, and ask him if he wouldn't come and play at the wedding. - -Fiddler Mårten didn't consider the proposition for a second, but -promptly replied that he did not want to play at Svartsjö, because in -that parish lived a musician who was more skilled than all others in -Vermland. While they had him, there was no need for them to call -another. - -When Nils Olafsson received this answer, he took a few days to think it -over, and then he sent word to a fiddler in Big Kil parish, named Olle -in Säby, to ask him if he wouldn't come and play at his daughter's -wedding. - -Olle in Säby answered in the same way as Fiddler Mårten. He sent his -compliments to Nils Olafsson, and said that so long as there was such a -capable musician as Jan Öster to be had in Svartsjö, he didn't want to -go there to play. - -Nils Olafsson didn't like it that the musicians tried in this way to -force upon him the very one he did not want. Now he considered that it -was a point of honor with him to get another fiddler than Jan Öster. - -A few days after he had the answer from Olle in Säby, he sent his -servant to fiddler Lars Larsson, who lived at the game lodge in Ullerud -parish. Lars Larsson was a well-to-do man who owned a fine farm. He was -sensible and considerate and no hotspur, like the other musicians. But -Lars Larsson, like the others, at once thought of Jan Öster, and asked -how it happened that he was not to play at the wedding. - -Nils Olafsson's servant thought it best to say to him that, since Jan -Öster lived at Svartsjö, they could hear him play at any time. As Nils -Olafsson was making ready to give a grand wedding, he wished to treat -his guests to something a little better and more select. - -"I doubt if you can get any one better," said Lars Larsson. - -"Now you must be thinking of answering in the same way as fiddler Mårten -and Olle in Säby did," said the servant. Then he told him how he had -fared with them. - -Lars Larsson paid close attention to the servant's story, and then he -sat quietly for a long while and pondered. Finally he answered in the -affirmative: "Tell your master that I thank him for his invitation and -will come." - -The following Sunday Lars Larsson journeyed down to Svartsjö. He drove -up to the church knoll just as the wedding guests were forming into line -to march to the church. He came driving in his own chaise and with a -good horse and dressed in black broadcloth. He took out his fiddle from -a highly polished box. Nils Olafsson received him effusively, thinking -that here was a fiddler of whom he might be proud. - -Immediately after Lars Larsson's arrival, Jan Öster, too, came marching -up to the church, with his fiddle under his arm. He walked straight up -to the crowd around the bride, exactly as if he were asked to come and -play at the wedding. - -Jan Öster had come in the old gray homespun jacket which they had seen -him wearing for ages. But, as this was to be such a grand wedding, his -wife had made an attempt at mending the holes at the elbow by sewing big -green patches over them. Jan Öster was a tall handsome man, and would -have made a fine appearance at the head of the bridal procession, had he -not been so shabbily dressed, and had his face not been so lined and -seamed by worries and the hard struggle with misfortune. - -When Lars Larsson saw Jan Öster coming, he seemed a bit displeased. "So -you have called Jan Öster, too," he said under his breath to the Juryman -Nils Olafsson, "but at a grand wedding there's no harm in having two -fiddlers." - -"I did not invite him, that's certain!" protested Nils Olafsson. "I -can't comprehend why he has come. Just wait, and I'll let him know that -he has no business here!" - -"Then some practical joker must have bidden him," said Lars Larsson. -"But if you care to be guided by my counsel, appear as if nothing were -wrong and go over and bid him welcome. I have heard said that he is a -quick-tempered man, and who knows but he may begin to quarrel and fight -if you were to tell him that he was not invited?" - -This the Juryman knew, too! It was no time to begin fussing when the -bridal procession was forming on the church grounds; so he walked up to -Jan Öster and bade him be welcome. Thereupon the two fiddlers took their -places at the head of the procession. The bridal pair walked under a -canopy, the bridesmaids and the groomsmen marched in pairs, and after -them came the parents and relatives; so the procession was both imposing -and long. - -When everything was in readiness, a groomsman stepped up to the -musicians and asked them to play the Wedding March. Both musicians swung -their fiddles up to their chins, but beyond that they did not get. And -thus they stood! It was an old custom in Svartsjö for the best fiddler -to strike up the Wedding March and to lead the music. - -The groomsman looked at Lars Larsson, as though he were waiting for him -to start; but Lars Larsson looked at Jan Öster and said, "It is you, Jan -Öster, who must begin." - -It did not seem possible to Jan Öster that the other fiddler, who was as -finely dressed as any gentleman, should not be better than himself, who -had come in his old homespun jacket straight from the wretched hovel -where there were only poverty and distress. "No, indeed!" said he. "No, -indeed!" - -He saw that the bridegroom put forth his hand and touched Lars Larsson. -"Larsson shall begin," said he. - -When Jan Öster heard the bridegroom say this, he promptly lowered his -fiddle and stepped aside. - -Lars Larsson, on the other hand, did not move from the spot, but -remained standing in his place, confident and pleased with himself. Nor -did he raise the bow. "It is Jan Öster who shall begin," he repeated -stubbornly and resistingly, as one who is used to having his own way. - -There was some commotion among the crowds over the cause of the delay. -The bride's father came forward and begged Lars Larsson to begin. The -sexton stepped to the door of the church and beckoned to them to hurry -along. The parson stood waiting at the altar. - -"You can ask Jan Öster to begin, then," said Lars Larsson. "We musicians -consider him to be the best among us." - -"That may be so," said a peasant, "but we peasants consider you the best -one." - -Then the other peasants also gathered around them. "Well, begin, why -don't you?" they said. "The parson is waiting. We'll become a -laughing-stock to the church people." - -Lars Larsson stood there quite as stubborn and determined as before. "I -can't see why the people in this parish are so opposed to having their -own fiddler placed in the lead." - -Nils Olafsson was perfectly furious because they wished in this way to -force Jan Öster upon him. He came close up to Lars Larsson and -whispered: "I comprehend that it is you who have called hither Jan -Öster, and that you have arranged this to do him honor. But be quick, -now, and play up, or I'll drive that ragamuffin from the church grounds -in disgrace and by force!" - -Lars Larsson looked him square in the face and nodded to him without -displaying any irritation. "Yes, you are right in saying that we must -have an end of this," said he. - -He beckoned to Jan Öster to return to his place. Then he himself walked -forward a step or two, and turned around that all might see him. Then -he flung the bow far from him, pulled out his case-knife, and cut all -four violin strings, which snapped with a sharp twang. "It shall not be -said of me that I count myself better than Jan Öster!" said he. - -It appears that for three years Jan Öster had been musing on an air -which he couldn't get out over the strings because at home he was bound -down by dull, gray cares and worries, and nothing ever happened to him, -either great or small, to lift him above the daily grind. But when he -heard Lars Larsson's strings snap, he threw back his head and filled his -lungs. His features were rapt, as though he were listening to something -far away; and then he began to play. And the air which he had been -musing over for three years became all at once clear to him, and as the -tones of it vibrated he walked with proud step down to the church. - -The bridal procession had never before heard an air like that! It -carried them along with such speed that not even Nils Olafsson could -think of staying back. And every one was so pleased both with Jan Öster -and with Lars Larsson that the entire following entered the church, -their eyes brimming with tears of joy. - - - - -The Musician - - -No one in Ullerud could say anything of fiddler Lars Larsson but that he -was both meek and modest in his later years. But he had not always been -thus, it seems. In his youth he had been so overbearing and boastful -that people were in despair about him. It is said that he was changed -and made over in a single night, and this is the way it happened. - -Lars Larsson went out for a stroll late one Saturday night, with his -fiddle under his arm. He was excessively gay and jovial, for he had just -come from a party where his playing had tempted both young and old to -dance. He walked along, thinking that while his bow was in motion no one -had been able to sit still. There had been such a whirl in the cabin -that once or twice he fancied the chairs and tables were dancing too! "I -verily believe they have never before had a musician like me in these -parts," he remarked to himself. "But I had a mighty rough time of it -before I became such a clever chap!" he continued. "When I was a child, -it was no fun for me when my parents put me to tending cows and sheep -and when I forgot everything else to sit and twang my fiddle. And just -fancy! they wouldn't so much as give me a real violin. I had nothing to -play on but an old wooden box over which I had stretched some strings. -In the daytime, when I could be alone in the woods, I fared rather well; -but it was none too cheerful to come home in the evening when the cattle -had strayed from me! Then I heard often enough, from both father and -mother, that I was a good-for-nothing and never would amount to -anything." - -In that part of the forest where Lars Larsson was strolling a little -river was trying to find its way. The ground was stony and hilly, and -the stream had great difficulty in getting ahead, winding this way and -that way, rolling over little falls and rapids--and yet it appeared to -get nowhere. The path where the fiddler walked, on the other hand, tried -to go as straight ahead as possible. Therefore it was continually -meeting the sinuous stream, and each time it would dart across it by -using a little bridge. The musician also had to cross the stream -repeatedly, and he was glad of it. He thought it was as though he had -found company in the forest. - -Where he was tramping it was light summer-night. The sun had not yet -come up, but its being away made no difference, for it was as light as -day all the same. - -Still the light was not quite what it is in the daytime. Everything had -a different color. The sky was perfectly white, the trees and the -growths on the ground were grayish, but everything was as distinctly -visible as in the daytime, and when Lars Larsson paused on any of the -numerous bridges and looked down into the stream, he could distinguish -every ripple on the water. - -"When I see a stream like this in the wilderness," he thought, "I am -reminded of my own life. As persistent as this stream have I been in -forcing my way past all that has obstructed my path. Father has been my -rock ahead, and mother tried to hold me back and bury me between -moss-tufts, but I stole past both of them and got out in the world. -Hay-ho, hi, hi! I think mother is still sitting at home and weeping for -me. But what do I care! She might have known that I should amount to -something some day, instead of trying to oppose me!" - -Impatiently he tore some leaves from a branch and threw them into the -river. - -"Look! thus have I torn myself loose from everything at home," he said, -as he watched the leaves borne away by the water. "I am just wondering -if mother knows that I'm the best musician in Vermland?" he remarked as -he went farther. - -He walked on rapidly until he came across the stream again. Then he -stopped and looked into the water. - -Here the river went along in a struggling rapid, creating a terrible -racket. As it was night, one heard from the stream sounds quite -different from those of the daytime, and the musician was perfectly -astonished when he stood still and listened. There was no bird song in -the trees and no music in the pines and no rustling in the leaves. No -wagon wheels creaked in the road and no cow-bells tinkled in the wood. -One heard only the rapid; but because all the other things were hushed, -it could be heard so much better than during the day. It sounded as -though everything thinkable and unthinkable was rioting and clamoring in -the depths of the stream. First, it sounded as if some one were sitting -down there and grinding grain between stones, and then it sounded as -though goblets were clinking in a drinking-bout; and again there was a -murmuring, as when the congregation had left the church and were -standing on the church knoll after the service, talking earnestly -together. - -"I suppose this, too, is a kind of music," thought the fiddler, -"although I can't find anything much in it! I think the air that I -composed the other day was much more worth listening to." - -But the longer Lars Larsson listened to the music of the rapid, the -better he thought it sounded. - -"I believe you are improving," he said to the rapid. "It must have -dawned upon you that the best musician in Vermland is listening to you!" - -The instant he had made this remark, he fancied he heard a couple of -clear metallic sounds, as when some one picks a violin string to hear if -it is in tune. - -"But see, hark! The Water-Sprite himself has arrived. I can hear how he -begins to thrum on the violin. Let us hear now if you can play better -than I!" said Lars Larsson, laughing. "But I can't stand here all night -waiting for you to begin," he called to the water. "Now I must be going; -but I promise you that I will also stop at the next bridge and listen, -to hear if you can cope with me." - -He went farther and, as the stream in its winding course ran into the -wood, he began thinking once more of his home. - -"I wonder how the little brooklet that runs by our house is getting on? -I should like to see it again. I ought to go home once in a while, to -see if mother is suffering want and hardship since father's death. But -busy as I am, it is almost impossible. As busy as I am just now, I say, -I can't look after anything but the fiddle. There is hardly an evening -in the week that I am at liberty." - -In a little while he met the stream again, and his thoughts were turned -to something else. At this crossing the river did not come rushing on in -a noisy rapid, but glided ahead rather quietly. It lay perfectly black -and shiny under the night-gray forest trees, and carried with it one and -another patch of snow-white scum from the rapids above. - -When the musician came down upon the bridge and heard no sound from the -stream but a soft swish now and then, he began to laugh. - -"I might have known that the Water-Sprite wouldn't care to come to the -meeting," he shouted. "To be sure, I have always heard that he is -considered an excellent performer, but one who lies still forever in a -brook and never hears anything new can't know very much! He perceives, -no doubt, that here stands one who knows more about music than he, -therefore he doesn't care to let me hear him." - -Then he went farther and lost sight of the river again. He came into a -part of the forest which he had always thought dismal and bleak to -wander through. There the ground was covered with big stone heaps, and -gnarled pine stumps lay uprooted among them. If there was anything -magical or fearsome in the forest, one would naturally think that it -concealed itself here. - -When the musician came in among the wild stone blocks, a shudder passed -through him, and he began to wonder if it had not been unwise of him to -boast in the presence of the Water-Sprite. He fancied the large pine -roots began to gesticulate, as if they were threatening him. "Beware, -you who think yourself cleverer than the Water-Sprite!" it seemed as if -they wanted to say. - -Lars Larsson felt how his heart contracted with dread. A heavy weight -bore down upon his chest, so that he could scarcely breathe, and his -hands became ice-cold. Then he stopped in the middle of the wood and -tried to talk sense to himself. - -"Why, there's no musician in the waterfall!" said he. "Such things are -only superstition and nonsense! It's of no consequence what I have said -or haven't said to him." - -As he spoke, he looked around him, as if for some confirmation of the -truth of what he said. Had it been daytime, every tiny leaf would have -winked at him that there was nothing dangerous in the wood; but now, at -night, the leaves on the trees were closed and silent and looked as -though they were hiding all sorts of dangerous secrets. - -Lars Larsson grew more and more alarmed. That which caused him the -greatest fear was having to cross the stream once more before it and the -road parted company and went in different directions. He wondered what -the Water-Sprite would do to him when he walked across the last -bridge--if he might perhaps stretch a big black hand out of the water -and drag him down into the depths. - -He had worked himself into such a state of fright that he thought of -turning back. But then he would meet the stream again. And if he were to -turn out of the road and go into the wood, he would also meet it, the -way it kept bending and winding itself! - -He felt so nervous that he didn't know what to do. He was snared and -captured and bound by that stream, and saw no possibility of escape. - -Finally he saw before him the last bridge crossing. Directly opposite -him, on the other side of the stream, stood an old mill, which must have -been abandoned these many years. The big mill-wheel hung motionless over -the water. The sluice-gate lay mouldering on the land; the mill-race was -moss-grown, and its sides were lined with common fern and beard-moss. - -"If all had been as formerly and there were people here," thought the -musician, "I should be safe now from all danger." - -But, at all events, he felt reassured in seeing a building constructed -by human hands, and, as he crossed the stream, he was scarcely -frightened at all. Nor did anything dreadful happen to him. The -Water-Sprite seemed to have no quarrel with him. He was simply amazed to -think he had worked himself into a panic over nothing whatever. - -He felt very happy and secure, and became even happier when the mill -door opened and a young girl came out to him. She looked like an -ordinary peasant girl. She had a cotton kerchief on her head and wore a -short skirt and full jacket, but her feet were bare. - -She walked up to the musician and said to him without further ceremony, -"If you will play for me, I'll dance for you." - -"Why, certainly," said the fiddler, who was in fine spirits now that he -was rid of his fear. "That I can do, of course. I have never in my life -refused to play for a pretty girl who wants to dance." - -He took his place on a stone near the edge of the mill-pond, raised the -violin to his chin, and began to play. - -The girl took a few steps in rhythm with the music; then she stopped. -"What kind of a polka are you playing?" said she. "There is no vim in -it." - -The fiddler changed his tune; he tried one with more life in it. - -The girl was just as dissatisfied. "I can't dance to such a draggy -polka," said she. - -Then Lars Larsson struck up the wildest air he knew. "If you are not -satisfied with this one," he said, "you will have to call hither a -better musician than I am." - -The instant he said this, he felt that a hand caught his arm at the -elbow and began to guide the bow and increase the tempo. Then from the -violin there poured forth a strain the like of which he had never before -heard. It moved in such a quick tempo he thought that a rolling wheel -couldn't have kept up with it. - -"Now, that's what I call a polka!" said the girl, and began to swing -round. - -But the musician did not glance at her. He was so astonished at the air -he was playing that he stood with closed eyes, to hear better. When he -opened them after a moment, the girl was gone. But he did not wonder -much at this. He continued to play on, long and well, only because he -had never before heard such violin playing. - -"It must be time now to finish with this," he thought finally, and -wanted to lay down the bow. But the bow kept up its motion; he couldn't -make it stop. It travelled back and forth over the strings and jerked -the hand and arm with it; and the hand that held the neck of the violin -and fingered the strings could not free itself, either. - -The cold sweat stood out on Lars Larsson's brow, and he was frightened -now in earnest. - -"How will this end? Shall I sit here and play till doomsday?" he asked -himself in despair. - -The bow ran on and on, and magically called forth one tune after -another. Always it was something new, and it was so beautiful that the -poor fiddler must have known how little his own skill was worth. And it -was this that tortured him worse than the fatigue. - -"He who plays upon my violin understands the art. But never in all my -born days have I been anything but a bungler. Now for the first time I'm -learning how music should sound." - -For a few seconds he became so transported by the music that he forgot -his evil fate; then he felt how his arm ached from weariness and he was -seized anew with despair. - -"This violin I cannot lay down until I have played myself to death. I -can understand that the Water-Sprite won't be satisfied with less." - -He began to weep over himself, but all the while he kept on playing. - -"It would have been better for me had I stayed at home in the little -cabin with mother. What is all the glory worth if it is to end in this -way?" - -He sat there hour after hour. Morning came on, the sun rose, and the -birds sang all around him; but he played and he played, without -intermission. - -As it was a Sunday that dawned, he had to sit there by the old mill all -alone. No human beings tramped in this part of the forest. They went to -church down in the dale, and to the villages along the big highway. - -Forenoon came along, and the sun stepped higher and higher in the sky. -The birds grew silent, and the wind began to murmur in the long pine -needles. - -Lars Larsson did not let the summer day's heat deter him. He played and -played. At last evening was ushered in, the sun sank, but his bow needed -no rest, and his arm continued to move. - -"It is absolutely certain that this will be the death of me!" said he. -"And it is a righteous punishment for all my conceit." - -Far along in the evening a human being came wandering through the wood. -It was a poor old woman with bent back and white hair, and a countenance -that was furrowed by many sorrows. - -"It seems strange," thought the player, "but I think I recognize that -old woman. Can it be possible that it is my mother? Can it be possible -that mother has grown so old and gray?" - -He called aloud and stopped her. "Mother, mother, come here to me!" he -cried. - -She paused, as if unwillingly. "I hear now with my own ears that you are -the best musician in Vermland," said she. "I can well understand that -you do not care any more for a poor old woman like me!" - -"Mother, mother, don't pass me by!" cried Lars Larsson. "I'm no great -performer--only a poor wretch. Come here that I may speak with you!" - -Then the mother came nearer and saw how he sat and played. His face was -as pale as death, his hair dripped sweat, and blood oozed out from under -the roots of his nails. - -"Mother, I have fallen into misfortune because of my vanity, and now I -must play myself to death. But tell me, before this happens, if you can -forgive me, who left you alone and poor in your old age!" - -His mother was seized with a great compassion for the son, and all the -anger she had felt toward him was as if blown away. "Why, surely I -forgive you!" said she. And as she saw his anguish and bewilderment and -wanted him to understand that she meant what she said, she repeated it -in the name of God. - -"In the name of God our Redeemer, I forgive you!" - -And when she said this, the bow stopped, the violin fell to the ground, -and the musician arose saved and redeemed. For the enchantment was -broken, because his old mother had felt such compassion for his distress -that she had spoken God's name over him. - - - - -The Legend of the Christmas Rose - - -Robber Mother, who lived in Robbers' Cave up in Göinge forest, went down -to the village one day on a begging tour. Robber Father, who was an -outlawed man, did not dare to leave the forest, but had to content -himself with lying in wait for the wayfarers who ventured within its -borders. But at that time travellers were not very plentiful in Southern -Skåne. If it so happened that the man had had a few weeks of ill luck -with his hunt, his wife would take to the road. She took with her five -youngsters, and each youngster wore a ragged leathern suit and -birch-bark shoes and bore a sack on his back as long as himself. When -Robber Mother stepped inside the door of a cabin, no one dared refuse to -give her whatever she demanded; for she was not above coming back the -following night and setting fire to the house if she had not been well -received. Robber Mother and her brood were worse than a pack of wolves, -and many a man felt like running a spear through them; but it was never -done, because they all knew that the man stayed up in the forest, and he -would have known how to wreak vengeance if anything had happened to the -children or the old woman. - -Now that Robber Mother went from house to house and begged, she came one -day to Övid, which at that time was a cloister. She rang the bell of the -cloister gate and asked for food. The watchman let down a small wicket -in the gate and handed her six round bread cakes--one for herself and -one for each of the five children. - -While the mother was standing quietly at the gate, her youngsters were -running about. And now one of them came and pulled at her skirt, as a -signal that he had discovered something which she ought to come and see, -and Robber Mother followed him promptly. - -The entire cloister was surrounded by a high and strong wall, but the -youngster had managed to find a little back gate which stood ajar. When -Robber Mother got there, she pushed the gate open and walked inside -without asking leave, as it was her custom to do. - -Övid Cloister was managed at that time by Abbot Hans, who knew all about -herbs. Just within the cloister wall he had planted a little herb -garden, and it was into this that the old woman had forced her way. - -At first glance Robber Mother was so astonished that she paused at the -gate. It was high summertide, and Abbot Hans' garden was so full of -flowers that the eyes were fairly dazzled by the blues, reds, and -yellows, as one looked into it. But presently an indulgent smile spread -over her features, and she started to walk up a narrow path that lay -between many flower-beds. - -In the garden a lay brother walked about, pulling up weeds. It was he -who had left the door in the wall open, that he might throw the weeds -and tares on the rubbish heap outside. - -When he saw Robber Mother coming in, with all five youngsters in tow, he -ran toward her at once and ordered them away. But the beggar woman -walked right on as before. She cast her eyes up and down, looking now at -the stiff white lilies which spread near the ground, then on the ivy -climbing high upon the cloister wall, and took no notice whatever of the -lay brother. - -He thought she had not understood him, and wanted to take her by the arm -and turn her toward the gate. But when the robber woman saw his purpose, -she gave him a look that sent him reeling backward. She had been walking -with back bent under her beggar's pack, but now she straightened -herself to her full height. "I am Robber Mother from Göinge forest; so -touch me if you dare!" And it was obvious that she was as certain she -would be left in peace as if she had announced that she was the Queen of -Denmark. - -And yet the lay brother dared to oppose her, although now, when he knew -who she was, he spoke reasonably to her. "You must know, Robber Mother, -that this is a monks' cloister, and no woman in the land is allowed -within these walls. If you do not go away, the monks will be angry with -me because I forgot to close the gate, and perhaps they will drive me -away from the cloister and the herb garden." - -But such prayers were wasted on Robber Mother. She walked straight ahead -among the little flower-beds and looked at the hyssop with its magenta -blossoms, and at the honeysuckles, which were full of deep -orange-colored flower clusters. - -Then the lay brother knew of no other remedy than to run into the -cloister and call for help. - -He returned with two stalwart monks, and Robber Mother saw that now it -meant business! With feet firmly planted she stood in the path and began -shrieking in strident tones all the awful vengeance she would wreak on -the cloister if she couldn't remain in the herb garden as long as she -wished. But the monks did not see why they need fear her and thought -only of driving her out. Then Robber Mother let out a perfect volley of -shrieks, and, throwing herself upon the monks, clawed and bit at them; -so did all the youngsters. The men soon learned that she could overpower -them, and all they could do was to go back into the cloister for -reinforcements. - -As they ran through the passage-way which led to the cloister, they met -Abbot Hans, who came rushing out to learn what all this noise was about. - -Then they had to confess that Robber Mother from Göinge forest had come -into the cloister and that they were unable to drive her out and must -call for assistance. - -But Abbot Hans upbraided them for using force and forbade their calling -for help. He sent both monks back to their work, and although he was an -old and fragile man, he took with him only the lay brother. - -When Abbot Hans came out in the garden, Robber Mother was still -wandering among the flower-beds. He regarded her with astonishment. He -was certain that Robber Mother had never before seen an herb garden; yet -she sauntered leisurely between all the small patches, each of which -had been planted with its own species of rare flower, and looked at them -as if they were old acquaintances. At some she smiled, at others she -shook her head. - -Abbot Hans loved his herb garden as much as it was possible for him to -love anything earthly and perishable. Wild and terrible as the old woman -looked, he couldn't help liking that she had fought with three monks for -the privilege of viewing the garden in peace. He came up to her and -asked in a mild tone if the garden pleased her. - -Robber Mother turned defiantly toward Abbot Hans, for she expected only -to be trapped and overpowered. But when she noticed his white hair and -bent form, she answered peaceably, "First, when I saw this, I thought I -had never seen a prettier garden; but now I see that it can't be -compared with one I know of." - -Abbot Hans had certainly expected a different answer. When he heard that -Robber Mother had seen a garden more beautiful than his, a faint flush -spread over his withered cheek. The lay brother, who was standing close -by, immediately began to censure the old woman. "This is Abbot Hans," -said he, "who with much care and diligence has gathered the flowers -from far and near for his herb garden. We all know that there is not a -more beautiful garden to be found in all Skåne, and it is not befitting -that you, who live in the wild forest all the year around, should find -fault with his work." - -"I don't wish to make myself the judge of either him or you," said -Robber Mother. "I'm only saying that if you could see the garden of -which I am thinking you would uproot all the flowers planted here and -cast them away like weeds." - -But the Abbot's assistant was hardly less proud of the flowers than the -Abbot himself, and after hearing her remarks he laughed derisively. "I -can understand that you only talk like this to tease us. It must be a -pretty garden that you have made for yourself amongst the pines in -Göinge forest! I'd be willing to wager my soul's salvation that you have -never before been within the walls of an herb garden." - -Robber Mother grew crimson with rage to think that her word was doubted, -and she cried out: "It may be true that until to-day I had never been -within the walls of an herb garden; but you monks, who are holy men, -certainly must know that on every Christmas Eve the great Göinge forest -is transformed into a beautiful garden, to commemorate the hour of our -Lord's birth. We who live in the forest have seen this happen every -year. And in that garden I have seen flowers so lovely that I dared not -lift my hand to pluck them." - -The lay brother wanted to continue the argument, but Abbot Hans gave him -a sign to be silent. For, ever since his childhood, Abbot Hans had heard -it said that on every Christmas Eve the forest was dressed in holiday -glory. He had often longed to see it, but he had never had the good -fortune. Eagerly he begged and implored Robber Mother that he might come -up to the Robbers' Cave on Christmas Eve. If she would only send one of -her children to show him the way, he could ride up there alone, and he -would never betray them--on the contrary, he would reward them, in so -far as it lay in his power. - -Robber Mother said no at first, for she was thinking of Robber Father -and of the peril which might befall him should she permit Abbot Hans to -ride up to their cave. At the same time the desire to prove to the monk -that the garden which she knew was more beautiful than his got the -better of her, and she gave in. - -"But more than one follower you cannot take with you," said she, "and -you are not to waylay us or trap us, as sure as you are a holy man." - -This Abbot Hans promised, and then Robber Mother went her way. Abbot -Hans commanded the lay brother not to reveal to a soul that which had -been agreed upon. He feared that the monks, should they learn of his -purpose, would not allow a man of his years to go up to the Robbers' -Cave. - -Nor did he himself intend to reveal his project to a human being. And -then it happened that Archbishop Absalon from Lund came to Övid and -remained through the night. When Abbot Hans was showing him the herb -garden, he got to thinking of Robber Mother's visit, and the lay -brother, who was at work in the garden, heard Abbot Hans telling the -Bishop about Robber Father, who these many years had lived as an outlaw -in the forest, and asking him for a letter of ransom for the man, that -he might lead an honest life among respectable folk. "As things are -now," said Abbot Hans, "his children are growing up into worse -malefactors than himself, and you will soon have a whole gang of robbers -to deal with up there in the forest." - -But the Archbishop replied that he did not care to let the robber loose -among honest folk in the villages. It would be best for all that he -remain in the forest. - -Then Abbot Hans grew zealous and told the Bishop all about Göinge -forest, which, every year at Yuletide, clothed itself in summer bloom -around the Robbers' Cave. "If these bandits are not so bad but that -God's glories can be made manifest to them, surely we cannot be too -wicked to experience the same blessing." - -The Archbishop knew how to answer Abbot Hans. "This much I will promise -you, Abbot Hans," he said, smiling, "that any day you send me a blossom -from the garden in Göinge forest, I will give you letters of ransom for -all the outlaws you may choose to plead for." - -The lay brother apprehended that Bishop Absalon believed as little in -this story of Robber Mother's as he himself; but Abbot Hans perceived -nothing of the sort, but thanked Absalon for his good promise and said -that he would surely send him the flower. - - * * * * * - -Abbot Hans had his way. And the following Christmas Eve he did not sit -at home with his monks in Övid Cloister, but was on his way to Göinge -forest. One of Robber Mother's wild youngsters ran ahead of him, and -close behind him was the lay brother who had talked with Robber Mother -in the herb garden. - -Abbot Hans had been longing to make this journey, and he was very happy -now that it had come to pass. But it was a different matter with the -lay brother who accompanied him. Abbot Hans was very dear to him, and he -would not willingly have allowed another to attend him and watch over -him; but he didn't believe that he should see any Christmas Eve garden. -He thought the whole thing a snare which Robber Mother had, with great -cunning, laid for Abbot Hans, that he might fall into her husband's -clutches. - -While Abbot Hans was riding toward the forest, he saw that everywhere -they were preparing to celebrate Christmas. In every peasant settlement -fires were lighted in the bath-house to warm it for the afternoon -bathing. Great hunks of meat and bread were being carried from the -larders into the cabins, and from the barns came the men with big -sheaves of straw to be strewn over the floors. - -As he rode by the little country churches, he observed that each parson, -with his sexton, was busily engaged in decorating his church; and when -he came to the road which leads to Bösjo Cloister, he observed that all -the poor of the parish were coming with armfuls of bread and long -candles, which they had received at the cloister gate. - -When Abbot Hans saw all these Christmas preparations, his haste -increased. He was thinking of the festivities that awaited him, which -were greater than any the others would be privileged to enjoy. - -But the lay brother whined and fretted when he saw how they were -preparing to celebrate Christmas in every humble cottage. He grew more -and more anxious, and begged and implored Abbot Hans to turn back and -not to throw himself deliberately into the robber's hands. - -Abbot Hans went straight ahead, paying no heed to his lamentations. He -left the plain behind him and came up into desolate and wild forest -regions. Here the road was bad, almost like a stony and burr-strewn -path, with neither bridge nor plank to help them over brooklet and -rivulet. The farther they rode, the colder it grew, and after a while -they came upon snow-covered ground. - -It turned out to be a long and hazardous ride through the forest. They -climbed steep and slippery side paths, crawled over swamp and marsh, and -pushed through windfall and bramble. Just as daylight was waning, the -robber boy guided them across a forest meadow, skirted by tall, naked -leaf trees and green fir trees. Back of the meadow loomed a mountain -wall, and in this wall they saw a door of thick boards. Now Abbot Hans -understood that they had arrived, and dismounted. The child opened the -heavy door for him, and he looked into a poor mountain grotto, with bare -stone walls. Robber Mother was seated before a log fire that burned in -the middle of the floor. Alongside the walls were beds of virgin pine -and moss, and on one of these beds lay Robber Father asleep. - -"Come in, you out there!" shouted Robber Mother without rising, "and -fetch the horses in with you, so they won't be destroyed by the night -cold." - -Abbot Hans walked boldly into the cave, and the lay brother followed. -Here were wretchedness and poverty! and nothing was done to celebrate -Christmas. Robber Mother had neither brewed nor baked; she had neither -washed nor scoured. The youngsters were lying on the floor around a -kettle, eating; but no better food was provided for them than a watery -gruel. - -Robber Mother spoke in a tone as haughty and dictatorial as any -well-to-do peasant woman. "Sit down by the fire and warm yourself, Abbot -Hans," said she; "and if you have food with you, eat, for the food which -we in the forest prepare you wouldn't care to taste. And if you are -tired after the long journey, you can lie down on one of these beds to -sleep. You needn't be afraid of oversleeping, for I'm sitting here by -the fire keeping watch. I shall awaken you in time to see that which you -have come up here to see." - -Abbot Hans obeyed Robber Mother and brought forth his food sack; but he -was so fatigued after the journey he was hardly able to eat, and as soon -as he could stretch himself on the bed, he fell asleep. - -The lay brother was also assigned a bed to rest upon, but he didn't dare -sleep, as he thought he had better keep his eye on Robber Father to -prevent his getting up and capturing Abbot Hans. But gradually fatigue -got the better of him, too, and he dropped into a doze. - -When he woke up, he saw that Abbot Hans had left his bed and was sitting -by the fire talking with Robber Mother. The outlawed robber sat also by -the fire. He was a tall, raw-boned man with a dull, sluggish appearance. -His back was turned to Abbot Hans, as though he would have it appear -that he was not listening to the conversation. - -Abbot Hans was telling Robber Mother all about the Christmas -preparations he had seen on the journey, reminding her of Christmas -feasts and games which she must have known in her youth, when she lived -at peace with mankind. "I'm sorry for your children, who can never run -on the village street in holiday dress or tumble in the Christmas -straw," said he. - -At first Robber Mother answered in short, gruff sentences, but by -degrees she became more subdued and listened more intently. Suddenly -Robber Father turned toward Abbot Hans and shook his clenched fist in -his face. "You miserable monk! did you come here to coax from me my wife -and children? Don't you know that I am an outlaw and may not leave the -forest?" - -Abbot Hans looked him fearlessly in the eyes. "It is my purpose to get a -letter of ransom for you from Archbishop Absalon," said he. He had -hardly finished speaking when the robber and his wife burst out -laughing. They knew well enough the kind of mercy a forest robber could -expect from Bishop Absalon! - -"Oh, if I get a letter of ransom from Absalon," said Robber Father, -"then I'll promise you that never again will I steal so much as a -goose." - -The lay brother was annoyed with the robber folk for daring to laugh at -Abbot Hans, but on his own account he was well pleased. He had seldom -seen the Abbot sitting more peaceful and meek with his monks at Övid -than he now sat with this wild robber folk. - -Suddenly Robber Mother rose. "You sit here and talk, Abbot Hans," she -said, "so that we are forgetting to look at the forest. Now I can hear, -even in this cave, how the Christmas bells are ringing." - -The words were barely uttered when they all sprang up and rushed out. -But in the forest it was still dark night and bleak winter. The only -thing they marked was a distant clang borne on a light south wind. - -"How can this bell ringing ever awaken the dead forest?" thought Abbot -Hans. For now, as he stood out in the winter darkness, he thought it far -more impossible that a summer garden could spring up here than it had -seemed to him before. - -When the bells had been ringing a few moments, a sudden illumination -penetrated the forest; the next moment it was dark again, and then the -light came back. It pushed its way forward between the stark trees, like -a shimmering mist. This much it effected: The darkness merged into a -faint daybreak. Then Abbot Hans saw that the snow had vanished from the -ground, as if some one had removed a carpet, and the earth began to take -on a green covering. Then the ferns shot up their fronds, rolled like a -bishop's staff. The heather that grew on the stony hills and the -bog-myrtle rooted in the ground moss dressed themselves quickly in new -bloom. The moss-tufts thickened and raised themselves, and the spring -blossoms shot upward their swelling buds, which already had a touch of -color. - -Abbot Hans' heart beat fast as he marked the first signs of the forest's -awakening. "Old man that I am, shall I behold such a miracle?" thought -he, and the tears wanted to spring to his eyes. Again it grew so hazy -that he feared the darkness would once more cover the earth; but almost -immediately there came a new wave of light. It brought with it the -splash of rivulet and the rush of cataract. Then the leaves of the trees -burst into bloom, as if a swarm of green butterflies came flying and -clustered on the branches. It was not only trees and plants that awoke, -but crossbeaks hopped from branch to branch, and the woodpeckers -hammered on the limbs until the splinters fairly flew around them. A -flock of starlings from up country lighted in a fir top to rest. They -were paradise starlings. The tips of each tiny feather shone in -brilliant reds, and, as the birds moved, they glittered like so many -jewels. - -Again, all was dark for an instant, but soon there came a new light -wave. A fresh, warm south wind blew and scattered over the forest -meadow all the little seeds that had been brought here from southern -lands by birds and ships and winds, and which could not thrive elsewhere -because of this country's cruel cold. These took root and sprang up the -instant they touched the ground. - -When the next warm wind came along, the blueberries and lignon ripened. -Cranes and wild geese shrieked in the air, the bullfinches built nests, -and the baby squirrels began playing on the branches of the trees. - -Everything came so fast now that Abbot Hans could not stop to reflect on -how immeasurably great was the miracle that was taking place. He had -time only to use his eyes and ears. The next light wave that came -rushing in brought with it the scent of newly ploughed acres, and far -off in the distance the milkmaids were heard coaxing the cows--and the -tinkle of the sheep's bells. Pine and spruce trees were so thickly -clothed with red cones that they shone like crimson mantles. The juniper -berries changed color every second, and forest flowers covered the -ground till it was all red, blue, and yellow. - -Abbot Hans bent down to the earth and broke off a wild strawberry -blossom, and, as he straightened up, the berry ripened in his hand. - -The mother fox came out of her lair with a big litter of black-legged -young. She went up to Robber Mother and scratched at her skirt, and -Robber Mother bent down to her and praised her young. The horned owl, -who had just begun his night chase, was astonished at the light and went -back to his ravine to perch for the night. The male cuckoo crowed, and -his mate stole up to the nests of the little birds with her egg in her -mouth. - -Robber Mother's youngsters let out perfect shrieks of delight. They -stuffed themselves with wild strawberries that hung on the bushes, large -as pine cones. One of them played with a litter of young hares; another -ran a race with some young crows, which had hopped from their nest -before they were really ready; a third caught up an adder from the -ground and wound it around his neck and arm. - -Robber Father was standing out on a marsh eating raspberries. When he -glanced up, a big black bear stood beside him. Robber Father broke off -an osier twig and struck the bear on the nose. "Keep to your own ground, -you!" he said; "this is my turf." Then the huge bear turned around and -lumbered off in another direction. - -New waves of warmth and light kept coming, and now they brought with -them seeds from the star-flower. Golden pollen from rye fields fairly -flew in the air. Then came butterflies, so big that they looked like -flying lilies. The bee-hive in a hollow oak was already so full of honey -that it dripped down on the trunk of the tree. Then all the flowers -whose seeds had been brought from foreign lands began to blossom. The -loveliest roses climbed up the mountain wall in a race with the -blackberry vines, and from the forest meadow sprang flowers as large as -human faces. - -Abbot Hans thought of the flower he was to pluck for Bishop Absalon; but -each new flower that appeared was more beautiful than the others, and he -wanted to choose the most beautiful of all. - -Wave upon wave kept coming until the air was so filled with light that -it glittered. All the life and beauty and joy of summer smiled on Abbot -Hans. He felt that earth could bring no greater happiness than that -which welled up about him, and he said to himself, "I do not know what -new beauties the next wave that comes can bring with it." - -But the light kept streaming in, and now it seemed to Abbot Hans that it -carried with it something from an infinite distance. He felt a celestial -atmosphere enfolding him, and tremblingly he began to anticipate, now -that earth's joys had come, the glories of heaven were approaching. - -Then Abbot Hans marked how all grew still; the birds hushed their songs, -the flowers ceased growing, and the young foxes played no more. The -glory now nearing was such that the heart wanted to stop beating; the -eyes wept without one's knowing it; the soul longed to soar away into -the Eternal. From far in the distance faint harp tones were heard, and -celestial song, like a soft murmur, reached him. - -Abbot Hans clasped his hands and dropped to his knees. His face was -radiant with bliss. Never had he dreamed that even in this life it -should be granted him to taste the joys of heaven, and to hear angels -sing Christmas carols! - -But beside Abbot Hans stood the lay brother who had accompanied him. In -his mind there were dark thoughts. "This cannot be a true miracle," he -thought, "since it is revealed to malefactors. This does not come from -God, but has its origin in witchcraft and is sent hither by Satan. It is -the Evil One's power that is tempting us and compelling us to see that -which has no real existence." - -From afar were heard the sound of angel harps and the tones of a -Miserere. But the lay brother thought it was the evil spirits of hell -coming closer. "They would enchant and seduce us," sighed he, "and we -shall be sold into perdition." - -The angel throng was so near now that Abbot Hans saw their bright forms -through the forest branches. The lay brother saw them, too; but back of -all this wondrous beauty he saw only some dread evil. For him it was the -devil who performed these wonders on the anniversary of our Saviour's -birth. It was done simply for the purpose of more effectually deluding -poor human beings. - -All the while the birds had been circling around the head of Abbot Hans, -and they let him take them in his hands. But all the animals were afraid -of the lay brother; no bird perched on his shoulder, no snake played at -his feet. Then there came a little forest dove. When she marked that the -angels were nearing, she plucked up courage and flew down on the lay -brother's shoulder and laid her head against his cheek. - -Then it appeared to him as if sorcery were come right upon him, to tempt -and corrupt him. He struck with his hand at the forest dove and cried in -such a loud voice that it rang throughout the forest, "Go thou back to -hell, whence thou art come!" - -Just then the angels were so near that Abbot Hans felt the feathery -touch of their great wings, and he bowed down to earth in reverent -greeting. - -But when the lay brother's words sounded, their song was hushed and the -holy guests turned in flight. At the same time the light and the mild -warmth vanished in unspeakable terror for the darkness and cold in a -human heart. Darkness sank over the earth, like a coverlet; frost came, -all the growths shrivelled up; the animals and birds hastened away; the -rushing of streams was hushed; the leaves dropped from the trees, -rustling like rain. - -Abbot Hans felt how his heart, which had but lately swelled with bliss, -was now contracting with insufferable agony. "I can never outlive this," -thought he, "that the angels from heaven had been so close to me and -were driven away; that they wanted to sing Christmas carols for me and -were driven to flight." - -Then he remembered the flower he had promised Bishop Absalon, and at the -last moment he fumbled among the leaves and moss to try and find a -blossom. But he sensed how the ground under his fingers froze and how -the white snow came gliding over the ground. Then his heart caused him -even greater anguish. He could not rise, but fell prostrate on the -ground and lay there. - -When the robber folk and the lay brother had groped their way back to -the cave, they missed Abbot Hans. They took brands with them and went -out to search for him. They found him dead upon the coverlet of snow. - -Then the lay brother began weeping and lamenting, for he understood that -it was he who had killed Abbot Hans because he had dashed from him the -cup of happiness which he had been thirsting to drain to its last drop. - - * * * * * - -When Abbot Hans had been carried down to Övid, those who took charge of -the dead saw that he held his right hand locked tight around something -which he must have grasped at the moment of death. When they finally got -his hand open, they found that the thing which he had held in such an -iron grip was a pair of white root bulbs, which he had torn from among -the moss and leaves. - -When the lay brother who had accompanied Abbot Hans saw the bulbs, he -took them and planted them in Abbot Hans' herb garden. - -He guarded them the whole year to see if any flower would spring from -them. But in vain he waited through the spring, the summer, and the -autumn. Finally, when winter had set in and all the leaves and the -flowers were dead, he ceased caring for them. - -But when Christmas Eve came again, he was so strongly reminded of Abbot -Hans that he wandered out into the garden to think of him. And look! as -he came to the spot where he had planted the bare root bulbs, he saw -that from them had sprung flourishing green stalks, which bore beautiful -flowers with silver white leaves. - -He called out all the monks at Övid, and when they saw that this plant -bloomed on Christmas Eve, when all the other growths were as if dead, -they understood that this flower had in truth been plucked by Abbot Hans -from the Christmas garden in Göinge forest. Then the lay brother asked -the monks if he might take a few blossoms to Bishop Absalon. - -And when he appeared before Bishop Absalon, he gave him the flowers and -said: "Abbot Hans sends you these. They are the flowers he promised to -pick for you from the garden in Göinge forest." - -When Bishop Absalon beheld the flowers, which had sprung from the earth -in darkest winter, and heard the words, he turned as pale as if he had -met a ghost. He sat in silence a moment; thereupon he said, "Abbot Hans -has faithfully kept his word and I shall also keep mine." And he ordered -that a letter of ransom be drawn up for the wild robber who was outlawed -and had been forced to live in the forest ever since his youth. - -He handed the letter to the lay brother, who departed at once for the -Robbers' Cave. When he stepped in there on Christmas Day, the robber -came toward him with axe uplifted. "I'd like to hack you monks into -bits, as many as you are!" said he. "It must be your fault that Göinge -forest did not last night dress itself in Christmas bloom." - -"The fault is mine alone," said the lay brother, "and I will gladly die -for it; but first I must deliver a message from Abbot Hans." And he drew -forth the Bishop's letter and told the man that he was free. "Hereafter -you and your children shall play in the Christmas straw and celebrate -your Christmas among people, just as Abbot Hans wished to have it," said -he. - -Then Robber Father stood there pale and speechless, but Robber Mother -said in his name, "Abbot Hans has indeed kept his word, and Robber -Father will keep his." - -When the robber and his wife left the cave, the lay brother moved in and -lived all alone in the forest, in constant meditation and prayer that -his hard-heartedness might be forgiven him. - -But Göinge forest never again celebrated the hour of our Saviour's -birth; and of all its glory, there lives to-day only the plant which -Abbot Hans had plucked. It has been named CHRISTMAS ROSE. And each year -at Christmastide she sends forth from the earth her green stalks and -white blossoms, as if she never could forget that she had once grown in -the great Christmas garden at Göinge forest. - - - - -A Story from Jerusalem - - -In the old and time-honored mosque, El Aksa, in Jerusalem, there is a -long, winding path leading from the main entrance up to a very deep and -wide window-niche. In this niche a very old and much worn rug is spread; -and upon this rug, day in and day out, sits old Mesullam, who is a -fortune-teller and dream-interpreter, and who for a paltry penny serves -the visitors to the mosque by prying into their future destinies. - -It happened one afternoon, several years ago, that Mesullam, who sat as -usual in his window, was so ill-natured that he wouldn't even return the -greetings of the passers-by. No one thought, however, of feeling -offended at his rudeness, because every one knew that he was grieving -over a humiliation which had been put upon him that day. - -At that time a mighty monarch from the Occident was visiting Jerusalem, -and in the forenoon the distinguished stranger with his retinue had -wandered through El Aksa. Before his arrival the superintendent of the -mosque had commanded the servants to scour and dust all the nooks and -corners of the old building, at the same time giving orders that -Mesullam should move out of his accustomed place. He had found that it -would be simply impossible to let him remain there during the visit of -the distinguished guest. It was not only that his rug was very ragged, -or that he had piled up around him a lot of dirty sacks in which he kept -his belongings, but Mesullam himself was anything but an ornament to the -mosque! He was, in reality, an inconceivably ugly old negro. His lips -were enormous, his chin protruded aggressively, his brow was exceedingly -low, and his nose was almost like a snout; and in addition to these, -Mesullam had a coarse and wrinkled skin and a clumsy, thick-set body, -which was carelessly draped in a dirty white shawl. So one can't wonder -that he was forbidden to show himself in the mosque while the honored -guest was there! - -Poor Mesullam, who knew well enough that, despite his ugliness, he was a -very wise man, experienced a bitter disappointment in that _he_ was not -to see the royal traveller. He had hoped that he might give him some -proofs of the great accomplishments which he possessed in occult things -and in this way add to his own glory and renown. Since this hope had -miscarried, he sat hour after hour in a queer position, and mourned, -with his long arms stretched upward and his head thrown far back, as -though he were calling upon heaven for justice. - -When it drew on toward evening, Mesullam was wakened from his state of -all-absorbing grief by a cheery voice calling him. It was a Syrian who, -accompanied by another traveller, had come up to the soothsayer. He told -him that the stranger whom he was conducting wished for a proof of -Oriental wisdom, and that he had spoken to him of Mesullam's ability to -interpret dreams. - -Mesullam answered not a word to this, but maintained his former attitude -rigidly. When the guide asked him again if he would not listen to the -dreams the stranger wished to relate to him and interpret them, his arms -dropped and he crossed them on his breast. Assuming the attitude of a -wronged man, he answered that this evening his soul was so filled with -his own troubles that he couldn't judge anything clearly which concerned -another. - -But the stranger, who had a buoyant and commanding personality, didn't -seem to mind his objections. As there was no chair handy, he kicked -aside the rug and seated himself in the window-niche. Then he began, in -a clear and vibrant voice, to narrate a few dreams, which later were -translated for the soothsayer by the guide. - -"Tell him," said the traveller, "that a few years ago I was at Cairo, in -Egypt. Since he is a learned man, naturally he knows there is a mosque -there, called El Azhar, which is the most celebrated institution of -learning in the Orient. I went there one day to visit it, and found that -the whole colossal structure--all its rooms and arcades, all its -entrances and halls were filled with students. There were old men who -had devoted their entire lives to the quest for knowledge, and children -who were just learning to form their letters. There were giantesque -negroes from the heart of Africa; lithe, handsome youths from India and -Arabia; far-travelled strangers from Barbary, from Georgia, from every -land where the natives embrace the doctrines of the Koran. Close to the -pillars--I was told that in El Azhar there were as many teachers as -there were pillars--the instructors were squatted on their rugs, while -their students, who were arranged in a circle around them, eagerly -followed their lectures, which were accompanied by swaying movements of -their bodies. And tell him that, although El Azhar is in no way -comparable to the great Occidental seats of learning, I was nevertheless -astonished at what I saw there. I remarked to myself: 'Ah, this is -Islam's great stronghold and defence! From here Mohammed's young -champions go out. Here, at El Azhar, the potions of wisdom that keep the -Koran's doctrines healthy and vigorous are blended.'" - -All of this the traveller said almost in one breath. Now he made a -pause, so that the guide would have an opportunity to interpret for the -soothsayer. Then he continued: - -"Now tell him that El Azhar made such a powerful impression upon me that -on the following night I saw it again in a dream. I saw the white marble -structure and the many students dressed in white mantles and white -turbans--as is the custom at El Azhar. I wandered through halls and -courts and was again astonished at what a splendid fortress and wall of -protection this was for Mohammedanism. Finally--in the dream--I came to -the minaret upon which the prayer-crier stands to inform the faithful -that the hour of prayer has struck. And I saw the stairway which winds -up to the minaret, and I saw a prayer-crier walking up the steps. He -wore a black mantle and a white turban, like the others, and as he went -up the stairs I could not at first see his face, but when he had made a -few turns on the spiral stairway, he happened to turn his face toward -me, and then I saw that it was _Christ_." - -The speaker made a short pause, and his chest was expanded for a deep -inhalation. "I shall never forget, although it was only a dream," he -exclaimed, "what an impression it made upon me to see Christ walking up -the steps to the minaret in El Azhar! To me it seemed so glorious and -significant that he had come to this stronghold of Islam to call out the -hours of prayer that I leaped up in the dream and awaked." - -Here the traveller made another pause to let the guide interpret for the -soothsayer. But this appeared to be well-nigh useless labor. Mesullam -sat all the while, with his hands on his sides, rocking back and forth, -and with his eyes half closed. He seemed to want to say: "Inasmuch as I -cannot escape these importunate people, at least I will let them see -that I don't care to listen to what they have to say. I'll try and rock -myself to sleep. It will be the best way to show them how little I care -about them." - -The guide intimated to the traveller that all their trouble would be in -vain and they wouldn't hear a sensible word from Mesullam while he was -in this mood. But the European stranger seemed to be entranced by -Mesullam's indescribable ugliness and extraordinary behavior. He looked -at him with the pleasure of a child when it is watching a wild animal in -a menagerie, and he desired to continue the interview. - -"Tell him that I wouldn't have troubled him to interpret this dream," he -said, "had it not, in a certain sense, come to me again. Let him know -that two weeks ago I visited the Sophia Mosque at Constantinople, and -that I, after wandering through this magnificent building, stepped up on -a minaret in order to get a better view of the auditorium. Tell him, -also, that they allowed me to come into the mosque during a service, -when it was filled with people. Upon each of the innumerable prayer rugs -which covered the whole floor of the main hall, a man was standing and -saying his prayers. All who took part in the service simultaneously made -the same movements. All fell upon their knees and threw themselves on -their faces and raised themselves, at the same time whispering their -prayers very low; but from the almost imperceptible movements of so many -lips came a mysterious murmur, which rose toward the high arches and -died away, time and again. Then there came melodious responses from -remote passages and galleries. It was so strange altogether that one -wondered if it was not the Spirit of God that poured into the old -sanctuary." - -The traveller made another pause. He observed Mesullam carefully, while -the guide interpreted his speech. It actually appeared as if he had -tried to win the negro's approbation with his eloquence. And it seemed, -too, as though he would succeed, for Mesullam's half-closed eyes flashed -once, like a coal that is beginning to take fire. But the soothsayer, -stubborn as a child that will not let itself be amused, dropped his head -on his breast and began an even more impatient rocking of his body. - -"Tell him," resumed the stranger, "tell him that I have never seen -people pray with such fervor! To me it seemed as if it was the sublime -beauty of this marvellous structure which created this atmosphere of -ecstasy. Verily this is still an Islam bulwark! This is the home of -devoutness! From this great mosque emanate the faith and enthusiasm -which make Islam a mighty power." - -Here he paused again, noting carefully Mesullam's play of features -during its interpretation. Not a trace of interest was discernible in -them. But the stranger was evidently a man who liked to hear himself -talk. His own words intoxicated him; he would have become ill-natured -had he not been allowed to proceed. - -"Well," said he, when it was his turn again to speak, "I cannot rightly -explain what happened to me. Possibly the faint odor from the hundreds -of oil lamps, together with the low murmurings of the devotees, lulled -me into a kind of stupefaction. I could not help but close my eyes as I -stood leaning against a pillar. Soon sleep, or rather insensibility, -overcame me. Probably it did not last more than a minute, but during -this interval I was entirely removed from reality. While in this trance -I could see the whole Sophia Mosque before me, with all the praying -people; but now I saw what I had not hitherto observed. Up in the dome -were scaffoldings, and on these stood a number of workmen with paint -pots and brushes. - -"Tell him, if he does not already know it," continued the narrator, -"that Sophia Mosque was once a Christian church, and that its arches and -dome are covered with sacred Christian mosaics, although the Turks have -painted out all these pictures with plain yellow paint. And it appeared -to me as if the yellow paint in the dome had peeled off in a couple of -places and that the painters had clambered up on the scaffolding to -touch up the picture. But, look! when one of them raised his brush to -fill in the color, another large piece scaled off, and suddenly one saw -from behind it a beautiful painting of the _Christ_ emerge. Again the -painter raised his arm to paint out the picture, but the arm, which -appeared to be numb and powerless, dropped down before this beautiful -face; at the same time the paint dropped from the entire dome and arch, -and Christ was visible there in all his glory, among angels and heavenly -hosts. Then the painter cried out, and all the worshippers down on the -floor of the mosque raised their heads. And when they saw the heavenly -hosts surrounding the Saviour, they sent up a cry of joy, and when I -witnessed this joy, I was seized with such strong emotion that I waked -instantly. Then everything was like itself. The mosaics were hidden -under the yellow paint and the devotees continued all the while to -invoke Allah." - -When the interpreter had translated this, Mesullam opened one eye and -regarded the stranger. He saw a man who he thought resembled all other -Occidentals that wandered through the mosque. "I don't believe the -pale-faced stranger has seen any visions," thought he. "He has not the -dark eyes that can see what is behind the veil of mystery. I think, -rather, that he came here to make sport of me. I must beware lest on -this accursed day I be overtaken by another humiliation." - -The stranger spoke anon: "You know, O Dream Interpreter!" turning now -direct to Mesullam, as if he thought that he could understand him, -despite his foreign tongue--"you know that a distinguished foreigner is -visiting Jerusalem at present, and on his account they have talked of -opening the walled-up gate in Jerusalem's ring-wall--the one they call -'the Golden' and which is believed to be the gate through which Jesus -rode into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. They have actually been thinking of -doing the distinguished traveller the honor of letting him ride into the -city through a gate which has been walled up for centuries; but they -were held back by an old prophecy which foretells that when this gate is -opened the Occidentals will march in through it to take possession of -Jerusalem. - -"And now you shall hear what happened to me last night. The weather was -superb; it was glorious moonlight, and I had gone out alone to take a -quiet promenade around the Holy City. I walked outside the ring-wall on -the narrow path that extends all round the wall, and my thoughts were -borne so far back into distant ages that I scarcely remembered where I -was. All of a sudden I began to feel tired. I wondered if I should not -soon come to a gate in the wall, through which I might get into the city -and thus return to my quarters by a shorter road. Well, just as I was -thinking of this, I saw a man open a large gate in the wall directly in -front of me. He opened it wide and beckoned to me that I might pass in -through it. I was absorbed in my dreams and hardly knew how far I had -been walking. I was somewhat surprised that there was a gate here, but I -thought no more about the matter and walked through it. As soon as I had -passed through the deep archway, the gate closed with a sharp clang. -When I turned round, there was no opening visible, only a walled-up -gate--the one called the Golden. Before me lay the temple place, the -broad Haram plateau, in the centre of which Omar's Mosque is enthroned. -And you know that no gate in the ring-wall leads thither but the Golden, -which is not only closed but walled up. - -"You can understand that I thought I'd gone mad; that I dreamed I had -tried in vain to find some explanation of this. I looked around for the -man who had let me in. He had vanished and I could not find him. But, on -the other hand, I saw him all the plainer in memory--the tall and -slightly bent figure, the beautiful locks, the mild visage, the parted -beard. It was _Christ_, soothsayer, _Christ_ once again. - -"Tell me now, you who can look into the hidden, what mean my dreams? -What, more than all, can be the meaning of my having really and truly -passed through the Golden Gate? Even at this moment I do not know how it -happened, but I have done so. Tell me, now, what these three things can -mean!" - -The interpreter translated this for Mesullam, but the soothsayer was all -the while in the same suspicious and crabbed mood. "I am certain that -this stranger wants to poke fun at me," he thought. "Perchance he would -provoke me to anger with all this talk about Christ?" - -He would have concluded not to answer at all; but when the interpreter -insisted, he muttered a few words. - -"What does he say?" asked the traveller eagerly. - -"He says he has nothing to say to you but that dreams are dreams." - -"Then tell him from me," retorted the stranger, somewhat exasperated, -"that this is not always true. It depends entirely upon who dreams -them." - -Before these words had been interpreted to Mesullam, the European had -arisen and with quick and elastic step had walked toward the long -passage-way. - -But Mesullam sat still and mused over his answer for five minutes. Then -he fell upon his face, utterly undone. "Allah, Allah! Twice on the same -day Fortune has passed by me without my having captured her. What hath -thy servant done to displease thee?" - - - - -Why the Pope Lived to be so Old - - -It happened at Rome in the early nineties. Leo XIII was just then at the -height of his fame and greatness. All true Catholics rejoiced at his -successes and triumphs, which in truth were sublime. And, even for those -who could not grasp the great political events, it was plain that the -power of the Church was again coming to the front. Any one at all could -see that new cloisters were going up everywhere and that throngs of -pilgrims were beginning to pour into Italy, as in olden times. In many, -many places one saw the old, dilapidated churches in process of -restoration, damaged mosaics being put in order, and the treasure-vaults -of the churches being filled with golden relic-boxes and jewelled -exhibits. - -Right in the midst of this progressive period the Roman people were -alarmed by the news that the Pope had been taken ill. He was said to be -in a very precarious condition; it was even rumored that he was dying. - -His condition was, too, in a great degree serious. The Pope's physicians -issued bulletins which inspired but little hope. It was maintained that -the Pope's great age--he was then eighty years old--made it seem almost -incredible that he could survive this attack. - -Naturally, the Pope's illness caused great unrest. In all the churches -in Rome prayers were said for his recovery. The newspapers were filled -with communications regarding the progress of the illness. The Cardinals -were beginning to take steps and measures for the new Papal election. - -Everywhere they bemoaned the approaching demise of the brilliant leader. -They feared that the good fortune which had followed the Church's -standard under Leo XIII might not be faithful to it under the leadership -of his successor. There were many who had hoped that this Pope would -succeed in winning back Rome and the Ecclesiastical States. Others, -again, had dreamed that he would bring back into the bosom of the Church -some of the large Protestant countries. - -For each second that was passing, fear and anxiety grew apace. As night -came on, in many homes the inmates would not retire. The churches were -kept open until long past midnight, that the anxious ones might have an -opportunity to go in and pray. - -Among these throngs of devotees there was certainly more than one poor -soul who cried out: "Dear Lord, take my life instead of his! Let him, -who has done so much for Thy glory, live, and extinguish instead my -life-flame, which burns to no one's use!" - -But if the Angel of Death had taken one of these devotees at his word -and had suddenly stepped up to him, with sword raised, to exact the -fulfilment of his promise, one might wonder somewhat as to how he would -have behaved. No doubt he would have recalled instantly such a rash -proffer and begged for the grace of being allowed to live out all the -years of his allotted time. - -At this time there lived an old woman in one of the dingy ramshackle -houses along the Tiber. She was one of those who have the kind of spirit -that thanks God every day for life. Every morning she used to sit at the -market-place and sell garden truck. And this was an occupation that was -very congenial to her. She thought nothing could be livelier than a -market of a morning. All tongues were wagging--all were harking their -commodities, and buyers crowded in front of the stalls, selected and -bargained, and many a good sally passed between buyer and seller. -Sometimes the old woman was successful in making a good deal and in -selling out her entire stock; but even if she couldn't sell so much as a -radish, she loved to be standing amongst flowers and green things in the -fresh morning air. - -In the evening she had another and an even greater pleasure. Then her -son came home and visited with her. He was a priest, but he had been -assigned to a little church in one of the humble quarters. The poor -priests who served there had not much to live upon, and the mother -feared that her son was starving. But from this, also, she derived much -pleasure, for it gave her the opportunity of stuffing him full of -delicacies when he came to see her. He struggled against it, as he was -destined for a life of self-denial and strict discipline, but his mother -became so distressed when he said no that he always had to give in. -While he was eating she trotted around in the room and chattered about -all that she had seen in the morning during market hours. These were all -very worldly matters, and it would occur to her sometimes that her son -might be offended. Then she would break off in the middle of a sentence -and begin to talk of spiritual and solemn things, but the priest -couldn't help laughing. "No, no, mother Concenza!" he said, "continue in -your usual way. The saints know you already, and they know what you are -up to." - -Then she, too, laughed and said: "You are quite right. It doesn't pay to -pretend before the good Lord." - -When the Pope was taken ill, Signora Concenza must also have a share in -the general grief. Of her own accord it certainly never would have -occurred to her to feel troubled about his passing. But when her son -came home to her, she could neither persuade him to taste of a morsel of -food nor to give her a smile, although she was simply bubbling over with -stories and interpolations. Naturally she became alarmed and asked what -was wrong with him. "The Holy Father is ill," answered the son. - -At first she could scarcely believe that this was the cause of his -downheartedness. Of course it was a sorrow; but she knew, to be sure, -that if a Pope died, immediately there would come another. She reminded -her son of the fact that they had also mourned the good Pio Nono. And, -you see, the one who succeeded him was a still greater Pope. Surely the -Cardinals would choose for them a ruler who was just as holy and wise as -this one. - -The priest then began telling her about the Pope. He didn't bother to -initiate her into his system of government, but he told her little -stories of his childhood and young manhood. And from the days of his -prelacy there were also things to relate--as, for instance, how he had -at one time hunted down robbers in southern Italy, how he had made -himself beloved by the poor and needy during the years when he was a -bishop in Perugia. - -Her eyes filled with tears, and she cried out: "Ah, if he were not so -old! If he might only be allowed to live many more years, since he is -such a great and holy man!" - -"Ah, if only he were not so old!" sighed the son. - -But Signora Concenza had already brushed the tears from her eyes. "You -really must bear this calmly," said she. "Remember that his years of -life are simply run out. It is impossible to prevent death from seizing -him." - -The priest was a dreamer. He loved the Church and had dreamed that the -great Pope would lead her on to important and decisive victories. "I -would give my life if I could purchase new life for him!" said he. - -"What are you saying?" cried his mother. "Do you really love him so -much? But, in any case, you must not express such dangerous wishes. -Instead, you should think of living a good long time. Who knows what may -happen? Why couldn't you, in your turn, become Pope?" - -A night and a day passed without any improvement in the Pope's -condition. When Signora Concenza met her son the following day, he -looked completely undone. She understood that he had passed the whole -day in prayer and fasting, and she began to feel deeply grieved. "I -verily believe that you mean to kill yourself for the sake of that sick -old man!" said she. - -The son was hurt by again finding her without sympathy, and tried to -persuade her to sympathize a little with his grief. "You, truly, more -than any one else, ought to wish that the Pope might live," he said. "If -he may continue to rule, he will name my parish priest for bishop before -the year shall have passed and, in that event, my fortune is made. He -will then give me a good place in a cathedral. You shall not see me -going about any more in a worn-out cassock. I shall have plenty of -money, and I shall be able to help you and all your poor neighbors." - -"But if the Pope dies?" asked Signora Concenza breathlessly. - -"If the Pope dies, then no one can know--If my parish priest doesn't -happen to be in favor with his successor, we must both remain where we -now are for many years to come." - -Signora Concenza came close to her son and regarded him anxiously. She -looked at his brow, which was covered with wrinkles, and at his hair -that was just turning gray. He looked tired and worn. It was actually -imperative that he should have that place at the cathedral right away. -"To-night I shall go to church and pray for the Pope," thought she. "It -won't do for him to die." - -After supper she bravely conquered her fatigue and went out on the -streets. Great crowds of people thronged there. Many were only curious -and had gone out because they wished to catch the news of the death at -first hand; but many were really distressed and wandered from church to -church to pray. - -As soon as Signora Concenza had come out on the street, she met one of -her daughters, who was married to a lithographer. "Oh, mother, but you -do right to come out and pray for him!" exclaimed the daughter. "You -can't imagine what a misfortune it would be if he were to die! My -Fabiano was ready to take his own life when he learned that the Pope was -ill." - -She related how her husband, the lithographer, had but just struck off -hundreds of thousands of the Pope's pictures. Now, if the Pope were to -die, he wouldn't be able to sell half of them--no, not even a quarter of -them. He would be ruined. Their entire fortune was at stake. - -She rushed on to gather some fresh news, wherewith she might comfort her -poor husband, who did not dare venture out, but sat at home and brooded -over his misfortune. Her mother stood still on the street, mumbling to -herself: "It won't do for him to die. It will never do for him to die!" - -She walked into the first church she came to. There she fell upon her -knees and prayed for the life of the Pope. - -As she arose to leave, she happened to lift her eyes to a little votive -tablet which hung on the wall just above her head. The tablet was a -representation of Death raising a terrifying two-edged sword to mow down -a young girl, while her mother, who had cast herself in his path, tries -in vain to receive the blow in place of her child. - -She stood long before the picture, musing. "Signor Death is a careful -arithmetician," she remarked. "One has never heard of his agreeing to -exchange an old person for a young one." - -She remembered her son's words that he would be willing to die in the -Pope's stead, and a shudder passed through her whole body. "Think, if -Death were to take him at his word!" - -"No, no, Signor Death!" she whispered. "You mustn't believe him. You -must understand that he didn't mean what he said. He wants to live. He -doesn't want to leave his old mother, who loves him." - -For the first time the thought struck her that if any one should -sacrifice himself for the Pope, it were better that she did it--she, who -was already old and had lived her life. - -When she left the church, she happened into the company of some nuns of -the saintliest and most devout appearance, who lived in the northern -part of the country. They had travelled down to Rome to obtain a little -help from the Pope's treasury. "We are actually in the most dire need of -aid," they told old Concenza. "Only think! our convent was so old and -dilapidated that it blew down during the severe storm of last winter. We -may not now present our case to him. If he should die, we must return -home with an unaccomplished mission. Who can know if his successor will -be the sort of man who will trouble himself to succor poor nuns?" - -It seemed as if all the people were thinking the same thoughts. It was -very easy to get into converse with any one. Each and all whom Signora -Concenza approached let her know that the Pope's death would be for them -a terrible misfortune. - -The old woman repeated again and again to herself: "My son is right. It -will never do for the Pope to die." - -A nurse was standing among a group of people, talking in a loud voice. -She was so affected that the tears streamed down her cheeks. She related -how five years ago she had been ordered away, to serve at a leper -hospital on an island at the other end of the globe. Naturally, she had -to obey orders; but she did so against her wishes. She had felt a -horrible dread of this mission. Before she left Rome, she was received -by the Pope, who had given her a special blessing and had also promised -her that if she came back alive she should have another audience with -him. And it was upon this that she had lived during the five years she -had been away--only on the hope that she might see the Holy Father once -more in this life! This had helped her to go through all the horrors. -And now, when she had got home at last, she was met by the news that he -lay upon his death-bed! She could not even see him! - -She was in extreme despair, and old Concenza was deeply moved. "It would -really be much too great a sorrow for every one if the Pope were to -die," thought she, as she wandered farther up the street. - -When she observed that many of the passers-by looked perfectly exhausted -from weeping, she thought with a sense of relief: "What a joy it would -be to see everybody's happiness if the Pope should recover!" And she, -like many others who have a buoyant disposition, was apparently no more -afraid of dying than of living; so she said to herself: "If I only knew -how it could be done, I would gladly give the Holy Father the years that -are left to me of life." - -She said this somewhat in jest, but back of the words there was also -seriousness. She truly wished that she might realize something in that -way. "An old woman could not wish for a more beautiful death," thought -she. "I would be helping both my son and my daughter, and, besides, I -should make great masses of people happy." - -Just as this thought stirred within her, she raised the patched curtain -which hung before the entrance of a gloomy little church. It was one of -the very old churches--one of those which appear to be gradually sinking -into the earth because the city's foundation has, in the intervening -years, raised itself several metres all around them. This church in its -interior had preserved somewhat of its ancient gloom, which must have -come down through the dark ages during which it had sprung into -existence. Involuntarily a shudder passed through one as one stepped in -under its low arches, which rested upon uncommonly thick pillars, and -saw the crudely painted saints' pictures that glimpsed down at one from -walls and altars. - -When Signora Concenza came into this old church, which was thronged with -worshippers, she was seized with a mysterious awe and reverence. She -felt that in this sanctuary there verily lived a Deity. Beneath the -massive arches hovered something infinitely mighty and mysterious, -something which inspired such a sense of annihilating superiority that -she felt nervous about remaining in there. "Ah, this is no church where -one goes to hear a mass or to confessional," remarked Signora Concenza -to herself. "Here one comes when one is in great trouble, when one can -be helped in no other way than through a miracle." - -She lingered down by the door and breathed in this strange air of -mystery and gloom. "I don't even know to whom this old church is -dedicated; but I feel that here there must be some one who is able to -grant us that which we pray for." - -She sank down among the kneeling people, who were so many that they -covered the floor from the altar to the door. All the while that she -herself was praying, she heard around her sighs and sobs. All this grief -went to her heart and filled it with greater and greater compassion. -"Oh, my God, let me do something to save the old man!" she prayed. "In -the first place, I ought to help my children, and then all the other -people." - -Every once in a while a thin little monk stole in among the praying and -whispered something in their ears. The one to whom he was speaking -instantly stood up and followed him into the sacristy. - -Signora Concenza soon apprehended what there was in question. "They are -of the kind who give pledges for the Pope's recovery," thought she. - -The next time the little monk made his rounds, she rose up and went with -him. It was a perfectly involuntary action. She fancied that she was -being impelled to do this by the power which ruled in the old church. - -As soon as she came into the sacristy, which was even more archaic and -more mystical than the church itself, she regretted it. "What have I to -do in here?" she asked herself. "What have I to give away? I own nothing -but a couple of cartloads of garden truck. I certainly can't present the -saints with a few baskets of artichokes!" - -At one side of the room there was a long table at which a priest stood -recording in a register all that was pledged to the saints. Concenza -heard how one promised to present the old church with a sum of money, -while a second promised to give his gold watch, and a third her pearl -earrings. - -Concenza stood all the while down by the door. Her last poor copper had -been spent to procure a few delicacies for her son. She saw a number of -persons who appeared to be no richer than herself buying wax candles and -silver hearts. She turned her skirt pocket inside out, but she could not -afford even that much. - -She stood and waited so long that finally she was the only stranger in -the sacristy. The priests walking about in there looked at her a little -astonished. Then she took a step or two forward. She seemed at the start -uncertain and embarrassed, but after the first move she walked lightly -and briskly up to the table. "Your Reverence!" she said to the priest, -"write that Concenza Zamponi, who was sixty last year, on Saint John the -Baptist's Day, gives all her remaining years to the Pope, that the -thread of his life may be lengthened!" - -The priest had already begun writing. He was probably very tired after -having worked at this register the whole night, and thought no more -about the sort of things he was recording. But now he stopped short in -the middle of a word and looked quizzically at Signora Concenza. She met -his glance very calmly. - -"I am strong and well, your Reverence," said she. "I should probably -have lived out my allotted seventy years. It is at least ten years that -I am giving to the Holy Father." - -The priest marked her zeal and reverence and offered no objections. "She -is a poor woman," thought he. "She has nothing else to give." - -"It is written, my daughter," he said. - -When old Concenza came out from the church, it was so late that the -commotion had ceased and the streets were absolutely deserted. She found -herself in a remote part of the city, where the gas lamps were so far -apart that they dispelled only a very little of the darkness. All the -same, she walked on briskly. She felt very solemn within and was certain -that she had done something which would make many people happy. - -As she walked up the street, she suddenly got the impression that a live -being circled above her head. In the darkness, between the tall houses, -she thought she could distinguish a pair of large wings, and she even -fancied she heard the sound of their beating. - -"What is this?" said she. "Surely it can't be a bird! It is much too big -for that." All at once she thought she saw a face which was so white -that it illuminated the darkness. Then an unspeakable terror seized her. -"It is the Angel of Death hovering over me," thought she. "Ah, what have -I done? I have placed myself in the dreaded one's power!" - -She started to run, but she could hear the rustle of the strong wings -and was convinced that Death was pursuing her. - -She fled with breathless haste through several streets, thinking all the -while that Death was coming nearer and nearer her. She already felt his -wings brushing against her shoulder. - -Suddenly she heard a whizzing in the air, and something heavy and sharp -struck her head. Death's two-edged sword had reached her. She sank to -her knees. She knew that she must lose her life. - -A few hours later, old Concenza was found on the street by two workmen. -She lay there unconscious, stricken with apoplexy. The poor woman was -immediately removed to a hospital, where they succeeded in bringing her -to, but it was apparent that she could not live very long. - -There was time, at all events, to send for her children. When, in a -state of despair, they reached her sick-bed, they found her very calm -and happy. She couldn't speak many words to them, but she lay and -caressed their hands. "You must be happy," said she, "happy, happy!" -Evidently she did not like their crying. She also bade the nurses smile -and show their joy. "Cheerful and happy," said she; "now you must be -cheerful and happy!" She lay there with hunger in her eyes, waiting to -see a little joy in their faces. - -She grew more and more impatient with her children's tears and with the -solemn faces of the nurses. She began to utter things which no one could -comprehend. She said that in case they were not glad she might just as -well have lived. Those who heard her thought she was raving. - -Suddenly the doors opened, and a young physician came into the -sick-room. He was waving a newspaper and calling in a loud voice: "The -Pope is better. He will live. A change has taken place in the night." - -The nurses silenced him, so that he shouldn't disturb the dying woman, -but Signora Concenza had already heard him. - -She had also marked a spark of joy--a gleam of happiness which could not -be concealed--pass through those who stood around her bed. - -There she lay looking about her, with something far-seeing in her gaze. -It was as though she were looking out over Rome, where the people were -now thronging up and down the streets and greeting one another with the -joyful news. - -She raised her head as high as she could and said: "So am I--I am very -happy. God has allowed me to die that he may live. I don't mind dying -when I have made so many people happy." - -She lay down again, and a few seconds later she was dead. - - * * * * * - -But they say in Rome that, after his recovery, the Holy Father -entertained himself one day by looking through the church records of -pious pledges which had been offered for his recovery. - -Smilingly he read the long lists of little gifts until he came to the -record where Concenza Zamponi had presented him with her remaining -years of life. Instantly he became very serious and thoughtful. - -He made inquiries about Concenza Zamponi and learned that she had died -on the night of his recovery. He then bade them call to him her son, -Dominico, and questioned him minutely as to her last moments. - -"My son," said the Pope to him when he had spoken, "your mother has not -saved my life, as she believed in her last hour; but I am deeply moved -by her love and self-sacrifice." - -He let Dominico kiss his hand, whereupon he dismissed him. - -But the Romans assure you that, although the Pope would not admit that -his span of years had been lengthened by the poor woman's gift, he was -nevertheless certain of it. "Why else should Father Zamponi have had -such a meteoric career?" asked the Romans. "He is already a bishop and -it is whispered that he will soon be a Cardinal." - -And in Rome they never feared after that that the Pope would die, not -even when he was mortally ill. They were prepared to have him live -longer than other people. His life had of course been lengthened by all -the years that poor Concenza had given him. - - - - -The Story of a Story - - -Once there was a story that wanted to be told and sent out in the world. -This was very natural, inasmuch as it knew that it was already as good -as finished. Many, through remarkable deeds and strange events, had -helped create it; others had added their straws in it by again and again -relating these things. What it lacked was merely a matter of being -joined together, so that it could travel comfortably through the -country. As yet it was only a confused jumble of stories--a big, -formless cloud of adventures rushing hither and thither like a swarm of -stray bees on a summer's day, not knowing where they will find some one -who can gather them into a hive. - -The story that wanted to be told had sprung up in Vermland, and you may -be sure that it circled over many mills and manors, over many parsonages -and many homes of military officers, in the beautiful province, peering -through the windows and begging to be cared for. But it was forced to -make many futile attempts, for everywhere it was turned away. Anything -else was hardly to be expected. People had many things of much more -importance to think of. - -Finally the story came to an old place called Mårbacka. It was a little -homestead, with low buildings overshadowed by giant trees. At one time -it had been a parsonage, and it was as if this had set a certain stamp -upon the place which it could not lose. They seemed to have a greater -love for books and reading there than elsewhere, and a certain air of -restfulness and peace always pervaded it. There rushing with duties and -bickering with servants were never met with, nor was hatred or -dissension given house room, either. One who happened to be a guest -there was not allowed to take life too seriously, but had to feel that -his first duty was to be light-hearted and believe that for one and all -who lived on this estate our Lord managed everything for the best. - -As I think of the matter now, I apprehend that the story of which I am -speaking must have lingered thereabouts a great many years during its -vain longing to be told. It seems to me as though it must have enwrapped -the place, as a mist shrouds a mountain summit, now and then letting one -of the adventures of which it consisted rain down upon it. - -They came in the form of strange ghost stories about the superintendent -of the foundries, who always had black bulls hitched to his wagon when -he drove home at night from a revel. And in his home the Evil One -himself used to sit in the rocker and rock while the wife sat at the -piano and played. They came as true stories from the neighboring -homestead, where crows had persecuted the mistress until she didn't dare -venture outside the door; from the Captain's house, where they were so -poor that everything had to be borrowed; from the little cottage down by -the church, where there lived a lot of young and old girls who had all -fallen in love with the handsome organ builder. - -Sometimes the dear adventures came to the homestead in an even more -tangible form. Aged and poverty-stricken army officers would drive up to -the doorstep behind rickety old horses and in rickety carryalls. They -would stop and visit for weeks, and in the evenings, when the toddy had -put courage into them, they would talk of the time when they had danced -in stockingless shoes, so that their feet would look small, of how they -had curled their hair and dyed their mustaches. One of them told how he -had tried to take a pretty young girl back to her sweetheart and how he -had been hunted by wolves on the way; another had been at the Christmas -feast where an angered guest had flung all the hazel-hens at the wall -because some one had made him believe they were crows; a third had seen -the old gentleman who used to sit at a plain board table and play -Beethoven. - -But the story could reveal its presence in still another way. In the -attic hung the portrait of a lady with powdered hair, and when any one -walked past it he was reminded that it was a portrait of the beautiful -daughter of the Count, who had loved her brother's young tutor, and had -called to see him once when she was an old gray-haired lady and he an -old married man. In the lumber room were heaped up bundles of documents -containing deeds of purchase and leases signed by the great lady, who -once ruled over seven foundries which had been willed to her by her -lover. If one entered the church, one saw in a dusty little cabinet -under the pulpit the chest filled with infidel manuscripts, which was -not to be opened until the beginning of the new century. And not very -far from the church is the river, at the bottom of which rests a pile of -sacred images that were not allowed to remain in the pulpit and chancel -they once had ornamented. - -It must have been because so many legends and traditions hovered around -the farm that one of the children growing up there longed to become a -narrator. It was not one of the boys. They were not at home very much, -for they were away at their schools almost the whole year; so the story -did not get much of a hold upon them. But it was one of the girls--one -who was delicate and could not romp and play like other children, but -found her greatest enjoyment in reading and hearing stories about all -the great and wonderful things which had happened in the world. - -However, at the start it was not the girl's intention to write about the -stories and legends surrounding her. She hadn't the remotest idea that a -book could be made of these adventures, which she had so often heard -related that to her they seemed the most commonplace things in the -world. When she tried to write, she chose material from her books, and -with fresh courage she strung together stories of the Sultans in -"Thousand and One Nights," Walter Scott's heroes, and Snorre Sturleson's -"Kings of Romance." - -Surely it is needless to state that what she wrote was the least -original and the crudest that has ever been put upon paper. But this -very naturally she herself did not see. She went about at home on the -quiet farm, filling every scrap of paper she could lay her hands on -with verse and prose, with plays and romances. When she wasn't writing, -she sat and waited for success. And success was to consist in this: Some -stranger who was very learned and influential, through some rare freak -of fortune, was to come and discover what she had written and find it -worth printing. After that, all the rest would come of itself. - -Meanwhile nothing of the sort happened. And when the girl had passed her -twentieth year, she began to grow impatient. She wondered why success -did not come her way. Perhaps she lacked knowledge. She probably needed -to see a little more of the world than the homestead in Vermland. And -seeing that it would be a long time before she could earn her livelihood -as an author, it was necessary for her to learn something--find some -work in life--that she might have bread while she waited for herself. Or -maybe it was simply this--that the story had lost patience with her. -Perhaps it thought thus: "Since this blind person does not see that -which lies nearest her eyes, let her be forced to go away. Let her tramp -upon gray stone streets; let her live in cramped city rooms with no -other outlook than gray stone walls; let her live among people who hide -everything that is unusual in them and who appear to be all alike. It -may perchance teach her to see that which is waiting outside the gate of -her home--all that lives and moves between the stretch of blue hills -which she has every day before her eyes." - -And so, one autumn, when she was two-and-twenty, she travelled up to -Stockholm to begin preparing herself for the vocation of teacher. - -The girl soon became absorbed in her work. She wrote no more, but went -in for studies and lectures. It actually looked as though the story -would lose her altogether. - -Then something extraordinary happened. This same autumn, after she had -been living a couple of months amidst gray streets and house walls, she -was walking one day up Malmskillnad Street with a bundle of books under -her arm. She had just come from a lecture on the history of literature. -The lecture must have been about Bellman and Runeberg, because she was -thinking of them and of the characters that live in their verses. She -said to herself that Runeberg's jolly warriors and Bellman's -happy-go-lucky roisterers were the very best material a writer could -have to work with. And suddenly this thought flashed upon her: Vermland, -the world in which you have been living, is not less remarkable than -that of Fredman or Fänrik Stål. If you can only learn how to handle it, -you will find that your material is quite as good as theirs. - -This is how it happened that she caught her first glimpse of the story. -And the instant she saw it, the ground under her seemed to sway. The -whole long Malmskillnad Street from Hamn Street Hill to the fire-house -rose toward the skies and sank again--rose and sank. She stood still a -long while, until the street had settled itself. She gazed with -astonishment at the passers-by, who walked calmly along, apparently -oblivious to the miracle that had taken place. - -At that moment the girl determined that she would write the story of -Vermland's Cavaliers, and never for an instant did she relinquish the -thought of it; but many and long years elapsed before the determination -was carried out. - -In the first place she had entered upon a new field of labor, and she -lacked the time needful for the carrying out of a great literary work. -In the second place she had failed utterly in her first attempts to -write the story. - -During these years many things were constantly happening which helped -mould it. One morning, on a school holiday, she was sitting at the -breakfast-table with her father, and the two of them talked of old -times. Then he began telling of an acquaintance of his youth, whom he -described as the most fascinating of men. This man brought joy and cheer -with him wherever he went. He could sing; he composed music; he -improvised verse. If he struck up a dance, it was not alone the young -folk who danced, but old men and old women, high and low. If he made a -speech, one had to laugh or cry, whichever he wished. If he drank -himself full, he could play and talk better than when he was sober, and -when he fell in love with a woman, it was impossible for her to resist -him. If he did foolish things, one forgave him; if he was sad at times, -one wanted to do anything and everything to see him glad again. But any -great success in life he had never had, despite his wealth of talents. -He had lived mostly at the foundries in Vermland as private tutor. -Finally he was ordained as a minister. This was the highest that he had -attained. - -After this conversation she could see the hero of her story better than -heretofore, and with this a little life and action came into it. One -fine day a name was given to the hero and he was called Gösta Berling. -Whence he got the name she never knew. It was as if he had named -himself. - -Another time, she came home to spend the Christmas holidays. One -evening the whole family went off to a Christmas party a good distance -from home in a terrible blizzard. It turned out to be a longer drive -than one would have thought. The horse ploughed his way ahead at a -walking pace. For several hours she sat there in the sleigh in the -blinding snowstorm and thought of the story. When they arrived finally, -she had thought out her first chapter. It was the one about the -Christmas night at the smithy. - -What a chapter! It was her first and for many years her only one. It was -first written in verse, for the original plan was that it should be a -romance cycle, like "Fänrik Stål's Sagas." But by degrees this was -changed, and for a time the idea was that it should be written as drama. -Then the Christmas night was worked over to go in as the first act. But -this attempt did not succeed, either; at last she decided to write the -story as a novel. Then the chapter was written in prose. It grew -enormously long, covering forty written pages. The last time it was -rewritten it took up only nine. - -After a few more years came a second chapter. It was the story of the -Ball at Borg and of the wolves that hunted Gösta Berling and Anna -Stjernhök. - -In the beginning this chapter was not written with the thought that it -could come into the story, but as a sort of chance composition to be -read at a small social gathering. The reading, however, was postponed, -and the novelette was sent to _Dagny_. After a time the story was -returned as unavailable for the magazine. It was in reality not -available anywhere. As yet it was altogether lacking in artistic -smoothness. - -Meanwhile the author wondered to what purpose this unluckily born -novelette could be turned. Should she put it into the story? To be sure, -it was an adventure by itself--and ended. It would look odd among the -rest, which were better connected. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad -idea, she thought then, if all the chapters of the story were like this -one--almost finished adventures? This would be difficult to carry out, -but it might possibly be done. There would doubtless be gaps in the -continuity here and there, but that should give to the book great -strength and variety. - -Now two important matters were settled: The story was to be a novel, and -each chapter should be complete in itself. But nothing much had been -gained hereby. She who had been fired with the idea of writing the story -of Vermland's Cavaliers when she was two-and-twenty, at this stage was -nearing the thirties and had not been able to write more than two -chapters. Where had the years gone? She had been graduated from the -Teachers' College and for several years past had been a teacher at -Landskrona. She had become interested in much and had been occupied with -many things, but the story was just as unwritten. A mass of material had -certainly been collected, but why was it so hard for her to write it -down? Why did the inspiration never come to her? Why did the pen glide -so slowly over the paper? She certainly had her dark moments at that -time! She began to think that she never would finish her novel. She was -that servant who buried his talent in the ground and never tried to use -it. - -As a matter of fact, all this occurred during the eighties, when stern -Realism was at its height. She admired the great masters of that time, -never thinking that one could use any other style in writing than the -one they employed. For her own part, she liked the Romanticists better, -but Romanticism was dead, and she was hardly the one to think of -reviving its form and expression! Although her brain was filled to -overflowing with stories of ghosts and mad love, of wondrously beautiful -women and adventure-loving cavaliers, she tried to write about it in -calm, realistic prose. She was not very clear-visioned. Another would -have seen that the impossible was impossible. - -Once she wrote a couple of chapters in another style. One was a scene -from Svartsjö churchyard; the other was about the old philosopher, Uncle -Eberhard, and his infidel manuscripts. She scribbled them mostly in fun, -with many ohs and ahs in the prose, which made it almost rhythmical. She -perceived that in this vein she could write. There was inspiration in -this--she could feel it. But when the two short chapters were finished, -she laid them aside. They were only written in fun. One could not write -a whole book in that vein. - -But now the story had been waiting long enough. It thought, no doubt, as -it did at the time when it sent her out in the world: "Again I must send -this blinded person a great longing which will open her eyes." - -The longing came over her in this manner: The homestead where she had -grown up was sold. She journeyed to the home of her childhood to see it -once again before strangers should occupy it. - -The evening before she left there, perhaps nevermore to see the dear old -place, she concluded in all meekness and humility to write the book in -her own way and according to her own poor abilities. It was not going to -be any great masterwork, as she had hoped. It might be a book at which -people would laugh, but anyway she would write it--write it for herself, -to save for herself what she could still save of the home--the dear old -stories, the sweet peace of the care-free days, and the beautiful -landscape with the long lakes and the many-hued blue hills. - -But for her, who had hoped that she might yet learn to write a book -people would care to read, it seemed as though she had relinquished the -very thing in life she had been most eager to win. It was the hardest -sacrifice she had made thus far. - -A few weeks later, she was again at her home in Landskrona, seated at -her writing-desk. She began writing--she didn't know exactly what it was -to be--but she was not going to be afraid of the strong words, the -exclamations, the interrogations, nor would she be afraid to give -herself with all her childishness and all her dreams! After she had come -to this decision, the pen began to move almost by itself. This made her -quite delirious. She was carried away with enthusiasm. Ah, this was -writing! Unfamiliar thoughts and things, or, rather, things she never -had surmised were stored away in her brain, crowded down upon the paper. -The pages were filled with a haste of which she had never dreamed. What -had hitherto required months--no, years--to work out, was now -accomplished in a couple of hours. That evening she wrote the story of -the young countess' tramp over the ice on River Löven, and the flood at -Ekeby. - -The following afternoon she wrote the scene in which the gouty ensign, -Rutger von Örneclou, tries to raise himself in bed to dance the Cachuca, -and the evening of the next day appeared the story of the old _Mamsell_ -who went off to visit the parsimonious Broby clergyman. - -Now she knew for certain that in this style she could write the book; -but she was just as certain that no one would have the patience to read -it through. - -However, not many chapters let themselves be written like this--in one -breath. Most of them required long and arduous labor, and there were -only little snatches of time in the afternoons which she could devote to -authorship. When she had been writing about half a year, reckoning from -the day when she had gone in for romanticism with a vengeance, about a -dozen chapters were written. At this rate the book would be finished in -three or four years. - -It was in the spring of this year, 1890, that _Idun_ invited prize -competitors to send in short novelettes of about one hundred printed -pages. This was an outlet for a story that wanted to be told and sent -into the world. It must have been the story itself that prompted her -sister to suggest to her that she make use of this opportunity. Here, at -last, was a way of finding out if her story was so hopelessly bad! If it -received the prize, much would be gained; if it didn't, she simply stood -in exactly the same position as before. - -She had nothing against the idea, but she had so little faith in herself -that she couldn't come to any conclusion. - -Finally, just eight days before the time for submitting manuscripts had -expired, she decided to take from the novel five chapters which were -sufficiently well connected to pass for a novelette, and chance it with -these. But the chapters were far from ready. Three of them were loosely -written, but of the remaining two there was barely an outline. Then the -whole thing must be legibly copied, of course. To add to this, she was -not at home just then, but was visiting her sister and brother-in-law, -who still lived in Vermland. And one who has come to visit with dear -friends for a short time cannot spend the days at a writing-desk. She -wrote therefore at night, sitting up the whole week until four in the -mornings. - -Finally there were only twenty-four hours of the precious time left, and -there were still twenty pages to be written. - -On this the last day they were invited out. The whole family were going -on a little journey to be gone for the night. Naturally, she had to -accompany the rest. When the party was over and the guests dispersed, -she sat up all night writing in the strange place. - -At times she felt very queer. The place where she was visiting was the -very estate on which the wicked Sintram had lived. Fate, in a singular -way, had brought her there on the very night when she must write about -him who sat in the rocker and rocked. - -Now and then she looked up from her work and listened in the direction -of the drawing-room for the possible sound of a pair of rockers in -motion. But nothing was heard. When the clock struck six the next -morning, the five chapters were finished. - -Along in the forenoon they travelled home on a little freight steamer. -There her sister did up the parcel, sealed it with sealing-wax, which -had been brought from home for this purpose, wrote the address, and sent -off the novelette. - -This happened on one of the last days in July. Toward the end of August -_Idun_ contained a notice to the effect that something over twenty -manuscripts had been received by the editors, but that one or two among -them were so confusedly written they could not be counted in. - -Then she gave up waiting for results. She knew, of course, which -novelette was so confusedly written that it could not be counted in. - -One afternoon in November she received a curious telegram. It contained -simply the words "Hearty Congratulations," and was signed by three of -her college classmates. - -For her it was a terribly long wait until dinner-time of the following -day, when the Stockholm papers were distributed. When the paper was in -her hands, she had to search long without finding anything. Finally, on -the last page she found a little notice in fine print which told that -the prize had been awarded to her. - -To another it might not have meant so much, perhaps, but for her it -meant that she could devote herself to the calling which all her life -she had longed to follow. - -There is but little to add to this: The story that wanted to be told and -sent out in the world was now fairly near its destination. Now it was to -be written, at least, even though it might take a few years more before -it was finished. - -She who was writing it had gone up to Stockholm around Christmas time, -after she had received the prize. - -The editor of _Idun_ volunteered to print the book as soon as it was -finished. - -If she could ever find time to write it! - -The evening before she was to return to Landskrona, she spent with her -loyal friend, Baroness Adlersparre[1], to whom she read a few chapters -aloud. - -[Footnote 1: Baroness Adlersparre--pen name, Esselde--was a noted -Swedish writer, publisher, and philanthropist, and a contemporary of -Fredrika Bremer.] - -"Esselde" listened, as only she could listen, and she became interested. -After the reading she sat silently and pondered. "How long will it be -before all of it is ready?" she asked finally. - -"Three or four years." - -Then they parted. - -The next morning, two hours before she was to leave Stockholm, a message -came from Esselde bidding her come to her before the departure. - -The old Baroness was in her most positive and determined mood. "Now you -must take a leave of absence for a year and finish the book. I shall -procure the money." - -Fifteen minutes later the girl was on her way to the Principal of the -Teachers' College to ask her assistance in securing a substitute. - -At one o'clock she was happily seated in the railway carriage. But now -she was going no farther than Sörmland, where she had good friends who -lived in a charming villa. - -And so they--Otto Gumaelius and his wife--gave her the freedom of their -home--freedom to work, and peace, and the best of care for nearly a -year, until the book was finished. - -Now, at last, she could write from morning till night. It was the -happiest time of her life. - -But when the story was finished at the close of the summer, it looked -queer. It was wild and disordered, and the connecting threads were so -loose that all the parts seemed bent upon following their old -inclination to wander off, each in its own way. - -It never became what it should have been. Its misfortune was that it -had been compelled to wait so long to be told. If it was not properly -disciplined and restrained, it was mostly because the author was so -overjoyed in the thought that at last she had been privileged to write -it. - - * * * * * - -BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR - - - JERUSALEM, A Novel - (_Trans. from Swedish by Velma Swanston Howard_) - - CHRIST LEGENDS - (_Trans. from Swedish by Velma Swanston Howard_) - - WONDERFUL ADVENTURES OF NILS - (_Trans. from Swedish by Velma Swanston Howard_) - - FURTHER ADVENTURES OF NILS - (_Trans. from Swedish by Velma Swanston Howard_) - - GIRL FROM THE MARSH CROFT - (_Trans. from Swedish by Velma Swanston Howard_) - - LEGEND OF THE SACRED IMAGE - (_Trans. from Swedish by Velma Swanston Howard_) - - MIRACLES OF ANTICHRIST - (_Trans. from Swedish by Pauline Bancroft Flach_) - - STORY OF GÖSTA BERLING - (_Trans. from Swedish by Pauline Bancroft Flach_) - - FROM A SWEDISH HOMESTEAD - (_Trans. from Swedish by Jessie Bröchner_) - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Girl From the Marsh Croft, by Selma Lagerlöf - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRL FROM THE MARSH CROFT *** - -***** This file should be named 41414-8.txt or 41414-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/1/4/1/41414/ - -Produced by sp1nd, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - -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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