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diff --git a/old/8mdot10.txt b/old/8mdot10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4d67d7d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8mdot10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4249 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of In Midsummer Days and Other Tales +by August Strindberg + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: In Midsummer Days and Other Tales + +Author: August Strindberg + +Release Date: October, 2004 [EBook #6694] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on January 14, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO Latin-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, IN MIDSUMMER DAYS AND OTHER TALES *** + + + + +Produced by Nicole Apostola. + + + +IN MIDSUMMER DAYS +AND OTHER TALES. + +BY AUGUST STRINDBERG + +TRANSLATED BY ELLIE SCHLEUSSNER + + + + + +CONTENTS + +IN MIDSUMMER DAYS +THE BIG GRAVEL-SIFTER +THE SLUGGARD +THE PILOT'S TROUBLES +PHOTOGRAPHER AND PHILOSOPHER +HALF A SHEET OF FOOLSCAP +CONQUERING HERO AND FOOL +WHAT THE TREE-SWALLOW SANG IN THE BUCKTHORN TREE +THE MYSTERY OF THE TOBACCO SHED +THE STORY OF THE ST. GOTTHARD +THE STORY OF JUBAL WHO HAD NO "I" +THE GOLDEN HELMETS IN THE ALLEBERG +LITTLE BLUEWING FINDS THE GOLDPOWDER + + + + +IN MIDSUMMER DAYS + +In Midsummer days when in the countries of the North the earth is +a bride, when the ground is full of gladness, when the brooks are +still running, the flowers in the meadows still untouched by the +scythe, and all the birds singing, a dove flew out of the wood and +sat down before the cottage in which the ninety-year-old granny +lay in her bed. + +The old woman had been bedridden for twenty years, but she could +see through her window everything that happened in the farmyard +which was managed by her two sons. But she saw the world and the +people in her own peculiar manner, for time and the weather had +painted her window-panes with all the colours of the rainbow; she +need but turn her head a little and things appeared successively +red, yellow, green, blue, and violet. If she happened to look out +on a cold winter's day when the trees were covered with hoar-frost +and the white foliage looked as if it were made of silver, she +had but to turn her head a little on the pillow, and all the trees +were green; it was summer-time, the ploughed fields were yellow, +and the sky looked blue even if a moment before it had been ever +so grey. And therefore the old granny imagined that she could work +magic, and was never bored. + +But the magical window-panes possessed another quality; they bulged +a little and consequently they magnified or reduced every object +which came into their field of vision. Whenever, therefore, her +grown-up son came home in a bad temper and scolded everybody, granny +had but to wish him to be a good little boy again, and straightway +she saw him quite small. Or, when she watched her grandchildren +playing in the yard, and thought of their future--one, two, +three--she changed her position ever so slightly, and they became +grown-up men and women, as tall as giants. + +Ail during the summer the window stood open, for then the window-panes +could not show her anything so beautiful as the reality. And now, +on Midsummer Eve, the most beautiful time of all the year, she lay +there and looked at the meadows and towards the wood, where the dove +was singing its song. It sang most beautifully of the Lord Jesus, +and the joy and splendour of the Kingdom of Heaven, where all are +welcome who are weary and heavy laden. + +The old woman listened to the song for a little while, and then she +laid that she was much obliged, but that Heaven could be no more +beautiful than the earth itself, and she wanted nothing better. + +Thereupon the dove flew away over the meadow into the mountain +glen, where the farmer stood digging a well. He stood in a deep +hole which he had dug, three yards below the surface; it was just +as if he were standing in his grave. + +The dove settled on a fir tree and sung of the joy of Heaven, quite +convinced that the man in the hole, who could see neither sky, nor +sea, nor meadow, must be longing for Heaven. + +"No," said the farmer, "I must first dig a well; otherwise my summer +guest will have no water, and the unhappy little mother will take +her child and go and live elsewhere." + +The dove flew down to the strand, when the farmer's brother was busy +hauling in the fishing-nets; it sat among the rushes and began to +sing. + +"No," said the farmer's brother, "I must provide food for my family, +otherwise my children will cry with hunger. Later on! Later on, +I tell you! Let's live first and die afterwards." + + +*** + +And the dove flew to the pretty cottage, where the unhappy little +mother had taken rooms for the summer. She sat on the verandah, +working at a sewing machine; her face was as white as a lily, and +her red felt hat looked like a huge poppy on her hair, which was +as black as a mourning veil. She was busy making a pinafore which +her little girl was to wear on Midsummer Eve, and the child sat at +her feet on the floor, cutting up little pieces of material which +were not wanted. + +"Why isn't daddy coming home?" asked the little girl, looking up. + +That was a very difficult question, so difficult that the young +mother could not answer it; and very possibly daddy could not have +answered it either, for he was far away in a foreign country with +his grief, which was twice as great as mammy's. + +The sewing machine was not in good order, but it stitched and +stitched; it made as many pricks as a human heart can bear before +it breaks, but every prick only served to pull the thread tighter--it +was curious! + +"I want to go to the village, mammy," said the little girl. "I want +to see the sun, for it is so dark here." + + +"You shall go and play in the sunshine this afternoon, darling." + +I must tell you that it was very dark between the high cliffs on +this side of the island; the cottage stood in a gloomy pine-grove, +which completely hid the view of the sea. + +"And I want you to buy me a lot of toys, mammy." + +"Darling, we have so little money to buy toys with," answered the +mother, bending her head still lower over their work. + +And that was the truth; for their comfort had changed into penury. +They had no servant, and the mother had to do the whole house-work +herself. + +But when she saw the sad face of the little girl, she took her on +her knees. + +"Put your little arms round mammy's neck," she said. + +The little one obeyed. + +"Now give mammy a kiss!" + +The rosy little half-open mouth, which looked like the mouth of a +little bird, was pressed against her lips; and when the blue eyes, +blue as the flower of the flax, smiled into hers, her beautiful +face reflected the sweet innocence of the little one, and made her +look like a happy child herself, playing in the sunshine. + +"No use my singing to them of the Kingdom of Heaven," thought the +dove, "but if I can in any way serve them, I will." + +And then it flew away towards the sunny village, for it had work +to do there. + +*** + +It was afternoon now; the little mother took a basket on one arm +and the child's little hand into hers, and they left the cottage. +She had never been to the village, but she knew that it was situated +somewhere towards sunset, on the other side of the island, and the +farmer had told her that she would have to get over six stiles and +walk through six latticed gates before she could get there. + +And on they went. + +Their way lay along a footpath, full of stones and old tree-roots, +so that she was obliged to carry the little girl, and that was very +hard work. The doctor had told her that the child must not strain +her left foot, because it was so weak that it might easily have +grown deformed. + +The young mother staggered along, under her beloved burden, and +large beads of perspiration stood like pearls on her forehead, for +it was very hot in the wood. + +"I am so thirsty, mammy," whispered the little, complaining voice. + +"Have patience, darling, there will be plenty of water when we get +there." + +And she kissed the little parclied mouth, and the child smiled and +forgot all about her thirst. + +But the scorching rays of the sun burned their skin and there was +not a breath of air in the wood. + +"Try and walk a little, darling," said the mother, putting the +child down. + +But the little foot gave way and the child could not walk a step. + +"I am so tired, mammy," she laid, sitting down and beginning to +cry. + +But the prettiest little flowers, which looked like rose-coloured +bells and smelt of sweet almonds, grew all over the spot where she +was sitting. She smiled when she saw them, for she had never seen +anything half as lovely, and her smile strengthened the heart of +the mother so that she could continue her walk with the child in +her arms. + +Now they had arrived at the first gate. They passed through it and +carefully re-fastened the latch. + +All of a sudden they heard a noise like a loud neighing; a horse +galloped towards them, blocked the path and neighed again; its +neighing was answered on the right and the left and from all sides +of the wood; the ground trembled, the branches of the trees cracked, +and the stones were scattered in all directions by the approaching +hoofs. In less than no time the poor, frightened travellers were +surrounded on all sides by a herd of savage horses. + +The child hid her face on her mother's shoulder, and her little +heart ticked with fear like a watch. + +"I am so frightened!" she whispered. + +"Oh! Father in Heaven, help us!" prayed the mother. + +At the same moment a blackbird, sitting on a fir tree, began to +sing; the horses scudded away as fast as they could, and there was +once more silence in the wood. + +They came to the second gate, walked through and re-fastened the +latch. + +They were on fallow ground now, and the sun scorched them even +worse than it had done before. They saw before them rows and rows +of dull clods of earth, but in a steep place the clods suddenly began +to move, and then they knew that what they had taken for clods of +earth were really the backs of a flock of sheep. + +Sheep are quite gentle and inoffensive, especially the little lambs, +but that is a good deal more than can be said of the ram, who is a +savage brute and often takes a delight in attacking those who have +never done him any harm. There he was already, jumping over a ditch +right into the middle of their path. He lowered his head and walked +a few steps backwards. + +"I am so frightened, mammy," said the little girl, and her heart +began to beat fast. + +"Oh! Merciful Father in Heaven, help us!" sighed the mother, with +an imploring look upwards. + +And high up, in the blue vault of the sky, fluttering its wings +like a butterfly, a little lark began to sing. And as it sang the +ram disappeared among the grey clods. + +They stood before the third gate. They were on a slope now; +the ground was swampy and before long they came to a crevice. The +hillocks looked like little graves, overgrown with vetch or white +cotton-flowers and they had to be careful to avoid sinking into +the swamp. Black berries of a poisonous kind grew in abundance +everywhere; the little girl wanted to gather them, and because +her mother would not permit it, she began to cry, for she did not +understand what poisonous meant. + +And as they walked on, they noticed a white sheet, which looked +as if it had been drawn in and out through the trees; the sun +disappeared behind a bank of clouds and a white darkness, which +was very went towards them, hoping to find some water in the place +whence they came. + +On their way they passed a white cottage, behind a green fence +with a white gate; the gate stood hospitably open. They entered +and found themselves in a garden where peonies and colombines grew. +The mother noticed that the curtains in the lower storey were all +drawn before the windows, and that all the curtains were white. But +one of the attic windows stood open and a white hand appeared above +the pots of touch-me-nots. It waved a little white handkerchief, +as if it were waving a last farewell to one who was going on a long +journey. + +They walked as far as the cottage; in the high grass lay a wreath +of myrtle and white roses. But it was too big for a bridal wreath. + +They went through the front door and the mother called out if +anybody were in? As there was no reply they went into the parlour. +On the floor, surrounded by a whole forest of flowers, stood a black +coffin with silver feet and in the coffin lay a young girl with a +bridal crown on her head. + +The walls of the room were made of new pinewood and only varnished +with oil, so that all the knots were visible. And the knots in +the knot-holes looked for all the world like so many eyes. + +"Oh! Just look at all the eyes, mammy," exclaimed the little girl. + +Yes, there were eyes of every description; big eyes, eloquent eyes, +grave eyes; little shining baby eyes, with a lurking smile in the +corner; wicked eyes, which showed too much white; frank and candid +eyes, which looked one straight into the heart; and, over there, +a big, gentle mother's eye, which regarded the dead girl lovingly; +and a transparent tear of resin trembled on the lid, and sparkled +in the setting sun like a green and red diamond. + +"Is she asleep?" asked the child, looking into the face of the dead +girl. + +"Yes, she is asleep." + +"Is she a bride, mammy?" + +"Yes, darling." + +The mother had recognised her. It was the girl who was to be a +bride on Midsummer day, when her sailor lover would return home; +but the sailor had written to say that he would not be home until +the autumn, and his letter had broken her heart; for she could +not bear to wait until the autumn, when the leaves would drop dead +from the trees and the winter wind have a rough game with them in +the lanes and alleys. + +She had heard the song of the dove and taken it to heart. + +The young mother left the cottage; now she knew where she would go. +She put the heavy basket down outside the gate and took the child +into her arms; and so she walked across the meadow which separated +her from the shore. + +The meadow was a perfect sea of flowers, waving and whispering round +her ankles, and the pollen water was calm and blue; and presently +it was not water through which they sailed, but the blue blossoms +of the flax, which she gathered in her outstretched hands. + +And the flowers bent down and rose up again, whispering, lapping +against the sides of the boat like little waves. The flax-field +before them appeared to be infinite, but presently a white mist +enveloped them, and they heard the plashing of real waves, but +above the mist they heard a lark singing. + +"How does the lark come to sing on the sea?" asked the child. + +"The sea is so green that the lark takes it for a meadow," answered +the mother. + +The mist had dispersed again. The sky was blue and the lark was +still singing. + +Then they saw, straight before them, in the middle of the sea, a +green island with a white, sandy beach, and people, dressed all in +pure white, walking hand in hand. The setting sun shone on the golden +roof of a colonnade, where white fires burnt in sacred sacrificial +vessels; and the green island was spanned by a rainbow, the colour +of which was rose-red and sedge-green. + +"What is it, mammy?" + +The mother could make no reply. + +"Is it the Kingdom of Heaven of which the dove sang? What is the +Kingdom of Heaven, mammy?" + +"A place, darling, where all people love one another," answered +the mother, "where there is neither grief nor strife." + +"Then let us go there," said the child. + +"Yes, we will go," said the tired, forsaken little mother. + + + + +THE BIG GRAVEL-SIFTER + +An eel-mother and her son were lying at the bottom of the sea, close +to the landing-stage, watching a young fisherman getting ready his +line. + +"Just look at him!" said the eel-mother, "there you have an example +of the malice and cunning of the world . ... Watch him! He is +holding a whip in his hand; he throws out the whip-lash--there it +is! attached to it is a weight which makes it sink--there's the +weight! and below the weight is the hook with the worm. Don't take +it in your mouth, whatever you do, for if you do, you are caught. +As a rule only the silly bass and red-eyes take the bait. There! +Now you know all about it." + +The forest of seaweed with its shells and snails began to rock; a +plashing and drumming could be heard and a huge red whale passed +like a flash over their heads; he had a tail-fin like a cork-screw, +and that was what he worked with. + +"That's a steamer," said the eel-mother; "make room!" + +She had hardly spoken these words when a furious uproar arose above. +There was a tramping and stamping as if the people overhead were +intent on building a bridge between the shore and the boat in two +seconds. But it was difficult to see anything on account of the +oil and soot which were making the water thick and muddy. + +There was something very heavy on the bridge now, so heavy that it +made it creak, and men's voices were shouting: + +"Lift it up!--Ho, there!--Up!--Hold tight!--Up with it!--Up!--Push +it along!--Lift it up!" + +Then something indescribable happened. First it sounded as if +sixty piles of wood were all being sawn at the same time; then a +cleft opened in the water which went down to the bottom of the sea, +and there, wedged between three stones, stood a black box, which +sang and played and tinkled and jingled, close to the eel-mother +and her son, who hastily disappeared in the lowest depths of the +ocean. + +Then a voice up above shouted:-- + +"Three fathoms deep! Impossible! Leave it alone. It isn't worth +while hauling the old lumber up again; it would cost more to repair +than it's worth." + +The voice belonged to the master of the mine, whose piano had fallen +into the sea. + +Silence followed; the huge fish with a fin like a screw swam away, +and the silence deepened. + +After sunset a breeze arose; the black box in the forest of seaweed +rocked and knocked against the stones, and at every knock it played, +so that the fishes came swimming from all directions to watch and +to listen. + +The eel-mother was the first to put in an appearance. And when +she saw herself reflected in the polished surface, she said: "It's +a wardrobe with a plate-glass door." + +There was logic in her remark, and therefore all the others said: +"It is a wardrobe with a plate-glass door." + +Next a rock-fish arrived and smelt at the candlesticks, which had +not yet come off. Tiny bits of candle ends were still sticking in +the sockets. "That's something to eat," it said, "if only it weren't +for the whipcord!" + +Then a great bass came and lay flat on the pedal; but immediately +there arose such a rumbling in the box that all the fishes hastily +swam away. + +They got no further on that day. + +At night it blew half a gale, and the musical box went thump, thump, +thump, like a pavier's beetle, until sunrise. When the eel-mother +and all the rest of them returned, they found that it had undergone +a change. + +The lid stood open like a shark's mouth; they saw a row of teeth, +bigger than they had ever seen before, but every other tooth was +black. The whole machine was swollen at the sides like a seed-fish; +the boards were bent, and the pedal pointed upwards like a foot +in the act of walking; the arms of the candlesticks looked like +clenched fists. It was a dreadful sight! + +"It's falling to pieces," screamed the bass, and spread out a fin, +ready to turn. + +And now the boards fell off, the box was open, and one could see +what it was like inside; and that was the prettiest sight of all. + +"It's a trap! Don't go too near!" said the eel-mother. + +"It's a hand-loom!" said the stickleback, who builds a nest for +itself and understands the art of weaving. + +"It's a gravel-sifter," said a red-eye, who lived below the +lime-quarry. + +It may have been a gravel-sifter. But there were a great many +fallals and odds and ends which were not in the least like the +sifter which they use for riddling sand. There were little manichords +which resembled toes in white woollen stockings, and when they +moved it was just as if a foot with two hundred skeleton toes were +walking; and it walked and walked and yet never left the spot. + +It was a strange thing. But the game was up, for the skeleton no +longer touched the strings; it played on the water as if it were +knocking at a door with its fingers, asking whether it might come +in. + +The game was up. A school of sticklebacks came and swam right through +the box, and when they trailed their spikes over the strings, the +strings sounded again; but they played in a new way, for now they +were tuned to another pitch. + +*** + +On a rosy summer evening soon afterwards two children, a boy and +a girl, were sitting on the landing-bridge. They were not thinking +of anything in particular, unless it was a tiny piece of mischief, +when all at once they heard soft music from the bottom of the sea, +which startled them. + +"Do you hear it?" + +"Yes, what is it? It sounds like scales." + +"No, it's the song of the gnats." + +"No, it's a mermaid!" + +"There are no mermaids. The schoolmaster said so." + +"The schoolmaster doesn't know." + +"Oh! do listen!" + +They listened for a long time, and then they went away, home. + +Presently two newly arrived summer guests sat down on the bridge; +he looked into her eyes, which reflected the golden sunset and the +green shores. Then they heard the sounds of music; it sounded as +if somebody were playing on musical glasses, but in a strange new +key, only heard in the dreams of those who dream of giving a new +message to the world. But they never thought of looking for any +outside source, they believed that it was the song which their own +hearts were singing. + +Next a couple of annual visitors came sauntering along; they knew +the trick and took a delight in saying in a loud voice: + +"It is the submerged piano of the master of the mine." + +But whenever there were only new arrivals present, who did not know +anything about it, they were puzzled and enjoyed the music, until +some of the older ones came and enlightened them. And then they +enjoyed it no longer. + +The musical box lay there all the summer. The sticklebacks taught +their art to the bass, who became much more expert. And the piano +became a regular fishing-ground for the summer guests, where they +could always be sure to catch bass; the pilots spread out their +nets round about it, and once a waiter fished there for red-eyes. +But when his line with the old bell weight had run out, and he tried +to wind it up again, he heard a run in X minor, and then the hook +was caught. He pulled and pulled, and in the end he brought up five +fingers with wool at the fingertips, and the bones cracked like +the bones of a skeleton. Then he was frightened and flung his catch +back into the sea, although he knew quite well what it was. + +In the dog days, when the water is warm and all the fish retire to +the greater depths to enjoy the coolness, the music ceased. But on +a moonlit night in August, the summer guests held a regatta. The +master of the mine and his wife were present. They sat in a white +boat and were slowly rowed about by their sons. And as their boat +was gliding over the black water, the surface of which was like +silver and gold in the moonlight, they heard a sound of music just +below their boat. + +"Ha ha!" laughed the master of the mine, "listen to our old piano! +Ha ha!" + +But he was silent when he saw that his wife hung her head, in the +way pelicans do in pictures; it looked as if she wanted to bite +her own neck and hide her face. + +The old piano and its long history had awakened memories in her of +the first dining-room they furnished together, the first of their +children which had had music lessons, the boredom of the long +evenings, only to be chased away by the crashing volumes of sound +which overcame the dulness of everyday life, changed bad temper +into cheerfulness, and lent new beauty even to the old furniture +. . . . But that is a story which belongs elsewhere. + +When it was autumn and the winter wind began to blow, the pilchards +came in their thousands and swam through the musical box. It was +like a farewell concert, and nothing else, and the seagulls and +stormy petrels came in crowds to listen to it. And in the night the +musical box was carried out to sea; that was the end of the matter. + + + +THE SLUGGARD + +Conductor Crossberg was fond of lying in bed in the morning, +firstly, because he had to conduct the orchestra in the evening, +and secondly, because he drank more than one glass of beer before +he went home and to bed. He had tried once or twice to get up early, +but had found no sense in it. He had called on a friend, but had +found him asleep; he had wanted to pay money into the bank, but had +found it still closed; he had gone to the library to borrow music, +but it was not yet open; he had wanted to use the electric trams, +but they had not yet started running. It was impossible to get a +cab at this hour of the morning; he could not even buy a pinch of +his favourite snuff; there was nothing at all for him to do. And +so he had eventually formed the habit of staying in bed until late; +and after all, he had no one to please but himself. + +He loved the sun and flowers and children; but he could not live on +the sunny side of the street on account of his delicate instruments, +which were out of tune almost as soon as they were put into a sunny +room. + +Therefore, on the 1st of April, he took rooms which faced north. +He was quite sure that there was no mistake about this, for he +carried a compass on his watch-chain, and he could find the Great +Bear in the evening sky. + +So far, so good; but then the spring came, and it was so warm that +it was really pleasant to live in rooms with a northern aspect. +His bedroom joined the sitting-room; he always kept his bedroom +in pitch-black darkness by letting down the Venetian blinds; there +were no Venetian blinds in the sitting-room, because they were not +wanted there. + +And the early summer came and everything grew green. The conductor +had dined at the restaurant "Hazelmount," and had drunk a bottle of +Burgundy with his dinner, and therefore he slept long and soundly, +especially as the theatre was closed on that day. + +He slept well, but while he slept it grew so warm in the room that +he woke up two or three times, or, at any rate, he thought he did. +Once he fancied that his wall-paper was on fire, but that was probably +the effect of the Burgundy; another time he felt as if something +hot had touched his face, but that was certainly the Burgundy; and +so he turned over and fell asleep again. + +At half-past nine he got up, dressed, and went into the sitting-room +to refresh himself with a glass of milk which always stood ready +for him in the morning. + +It was anything but cool in the sitting-room this morning; it +was almost warm, too warm. And the cold milk was not cold; it was +lukewarm, unpleasantly lukewarm. + +The conductor was not a hot-tempered man, but he liked order and +method in everything. Therefore he rang for old Louisa, and since +he made his first fifty remonstrances always in a very mild tone, +he spoke kindly but firmly to her, as she put her head through the +door. + +"Louisa," he said, "you have given me lukewarm milk." + +"Oh! no, sir," replied Louisa, "it was quite cold, it must have +got warm in standing." + +"Then you must have had a fire in the room; it's very warm here +this morning." + +No, Louisa had not had a fire; and she retired into the kitchen, +very much hurt. + +He forgave her for the milk. But a look round the sitting-room +made him feel very depressed. I must tell you that he had built a +little private altar in a corner, near the piano, which consisted +of a small table with two silver candlesticks, a large photograph +of a young woman, and a tall, gold-edged champagne glass. This +glass--it was the glass he had used on his wedding-day, and he was +a widower now--always contained a red rose in memory of and as an +offering to her who once had been the sunshine of his life. Whether +it was summer or winter, there was always a rose; and in the winter +time it lasted a whole week, that is to say if he trimmed the stem +occasionally and put a little salt into the water. Now, he had put +a fresh rose into the glass only last night, and to-day it was faded, +shrivelled up, dead, with its head drooping. This was a bad omen. +He knew what sensitive creatures flowers are, and had noticed that +they thrive with some people and not with others. He remembered how +sometimes, in his wife's lifetime, her rose, which always stood on +her little work-table, had faded and died quite unexpectedly. And +he had also noticed that this always happened when _his sun_ was +hiding behind a cloud, which after a while would dissolve in large +drops to the accompaniment of a low rumbling. Roses must have peace +and kind words; they can't bear harsh voices. They love music, and +sometimes he would play to the roses and they opened their buds +and smiled. + +Now Louisa was a hard woman, and often muttered and growled to +herself when she turned out the room. There were days when she was +in a very bad temper, so that the milk curdled in the kitchen, and +the whole dinner tasted of discord, which the conductor noticed +at once; for he was himself like a delicate instrument, whose soul +responded to moods and influences which other people did not feel. + +He concluded that Louisa had killed the rose; perhaps if she had +scolded the poor thing, or knocked the glass, or breathed on the +flower angrily, a treatment which it could not bear. Therefore he +rang again; and when Louisa put in her head, he said, not unkindly, +but more firmly than before: + +"What have you done to my rose, Louisa?" + +"Nothing, sir!" + +"Nothing? Do you think the flower died without a very good reason? +You can see for yourself that there is no water in the glass! You +must have poured it away!" + +As Louisa had done no such thing, she went into the kitchen and began +to cry, for it is disagreeable to be blamed when one is innocent. + +Conductor Crossberg, who could not bear to see people crying, said +no more, but in the evening he bought a new rose, one which had +only just been cut, and, of course, was not wired, for his wife +had always had an objection to wired flowers. + +And then he went to bed and fell asleep. And again he fancied in +his sleep that the wall-paper was on fire, and that his pillow was +very hot; but he went on sleeping. + +On the following morning, when he came into the sitting-room, to +say his morning prayers before the little altar--alas! there lay +his rose, all the pink petals scattered by the side of the stem. +He was just stretching out his hand to touch the bell, when he saw +the photograph of his beloved, half rolled up, lying by the side +of the champagne glass. Louisa could not have done that! + +"She, who was my all, my conscience and my muse," he thought in his +childlike mind, "she is dissatisfied and angry with me; what have +I done?" + +Well, when he put this question to his conscience, he found, as +usual, more than one little fault, and he resolved to eradicate +his faults, gradually, of course. + +Then he had the portrait framed and a glass shade put over the rose, +hoping that now things would be all right, but secretly fearing +that they would not. + +After that he went on a week's journey; he returned home late at +night and went straight to bed. He woke up once, imagining that +the hanging lamp was burning. + +When he entered the sitting-room late on the following morning, it +was downright hot there, and everything looked frightfully shabby. +The blinds were faded; the cover on the piano had lost its bright +colours; the bound volumes of music looked as if they were deformed; +the oil in the hanging-lame had evaporated and hung in a trembling +drop under the ornament, where the flies used to dance; the water +in the water-bottle was warm. + +But the saddest thing of all was that her portrait, too, was faded, +as faded as autumn leaves. He was very unhappy, and whenever he +was very unhappy he went to the piano, or took up his violin, as +the case might be . ... + +This time he sat down at the piano, with a vague notion of +playing the sonata in E minor, Grieg's, of course, which had been +her favourite, and was the best and finest, in his opinion, after +Beethoven's sonata in D minor; not because E comes after D, but +because it was so. + +But the piano was very refractory to-day. It was out of tune, and +made all sorts of difficulties, so that he began to believe that +his eyes and fingers were in a bad temper. But it was not their +fault. The piano, quite simply, was out of tune, although a very +clever tuner had only just tuned it. It was like a piano bewitched, +enchanted. + +He seized his violin; he had to tune it, of course. But when he +wanted to tighten the E string, the screw refused to work. It had +dried up; and when the conductor tried to use force, the string +snapped with a sharp sound, and rolled itself up like a dried +eel-skin. + +It was bewitched! + +But the fact that her photograph had faded was really the worst +blow, and therefore he threw a veil over the altar. + +In doing this, he threw a veil over all that was most beautiful +in his life; and he became depressed, began to mope, and stopped +going out in the evening. + +It would be Midsummer soon. The nights were shorter than the days, +but since the Venetian blinds kept his bedroom dark, the conductor +did not notice it. + +At last, one night--it was Midsummer night--he awoke, because the +clock in the sitting-room struck thirteen. There was something +uncanny about this, firstly, because thirteen is an unlucky number, +and secondly, because no well-behaved clock can strike thirteen. +He did not fall asleep again, but he lay in his bed, listening. +There was a peculiar ticking noise in the sitting-room, and then +a loud bang, as if a piece of furniture had cracked. Directly +afterwards he heard stealthy footsteps, and then the clock began +to strike again; and it struck and struck, fifty times--a hundred +times. It really was uncanny! + +And now a luminous tuft shot into his bedroom and threw a figure +on the wall, a strange figure, something like a fylfot, and it came +from the sitting-room. There was a light, then, in the sitting-room? +But who had lit it? And there was a tinkling of glasses, just as +if guests were there; champagne glasses of cut-crystal; but not a +word was uttered. And now he heard more sounds, sounds of canvas +being furled, or clothes passed through a mangle, or something of +that sort. + +The conductor felt compelled to get up and look, and he went, +commending his soul into the hands of the Almighty. + +Well, first of all he saw Louisa's print-dress disappearing through +the kitchen door; then he saw blinds, but blinds which had been +pulled up; he saw the dining-table covered with flowers, arranged +in glasses; as many flowers as there had been on his wedding-day +when he had brought his bride home. + +And behold! The sun, the sun shone right into his face, shone on +blue fjords and distant woods; it was the sun which had illuminated +the sitting-room and played all the little tricks. He blessed the +sun which had been up so early in the morning and made a game of +the sluggard. And he blessed the memory of her whom he called the +sun of his life. It was not a new name, but he could not think of +a better one, and as it was, it was good enough. + +And on his altar stood a rose, quite fresh, as fresh as _she_ had +been before the never-ending work had tired her. Tired her! Yes, +she had not been one of the strong ones; and life with its blows +and knocks had been too brutal for her! He had not forgotten how, +after a day's cleaning or ironing, she would throw herself on the +sofa and say in a complaining little voice, "I am so tired!" Poor +little thing, this earth had not been her home, she had only played +once, on tour, as it were, and then had gone far away. + +"She lacked sunshine," the doctor had said, for at that time they +couldn't afford sun, because rooms on the sunny side are so expensive. + +But now he had sun without having known it; he stood right in the +sunlight, but it was too late. Midsummer was past, and soon the +sun would disappear again, stay away for a year and then come back. +Things are very strange in this world! + + + +THE PILOT'S TROUBLES + +The pilot cutter lay outside, beyond the last beacon fire on the +headland; the winter sun had set long ago and the sea ran high; it +was the real sea with real huge breakers. Suddenly the first mate +signalled: "Sailing ship to windward." + +Far out at sea, a long way off the harbour, a brig was visible; she +had backed her sails and hoisted the pilot's flag; she was asking +to be taken into port. + +"Look out!" shouted the master-pilot, who was standing at the helm. +"We'll have a job in this sea, but we must try and get hold of her +in tacking, and you, Victor, throw yourself into her rigging as +soon as you get the chance ... bring the boat round! Now! Clear!" + +The cutter turned and steered a course to the brig which lay outside, +pitching. + +"Queer that she should have furled all her canvas. ... Can any +one see a light aboard? No! And no light on the masthead, either! +Look out, Victor!" Now the cutter was alongside; Victor stood +waiting on the gunwale, and the next time she rose on the crest of +a big wave, he leapt into the rigging of the brig, while the cutter +sheered off, tacked, and made for the harbour. + +Victor sat in the rigging, half-way between deck and cross-trees, +trying to recover his breath before descending on deck. As soon as +he came down he went to the helm, which was quite the right thing +for him to do. Imagine how shocked he was when he found it deserted! +He shouted "Ho there!" but received no reply. + +"They're all inside, drinking," he thought, peering through the +cabin windows. No, not a soul! He crossed over to the kitchen, +examined the quarterdeck,--not a living being anywhere. Then he +realised that he was on a deserted ship; he concluded that she had +sprung a leak and was sinking. + +He tried to discover the whereabouts of the cutter, but she had +disappeared in the darkness. + +It was quite impossible for him to make port. To set the sails, +haul in the brails and bowlines, and at the same time stand at the +helm, was more than any sailor could manage. + +There was nothing to b0e done, then, but let the vessel drift, +although he was aware of the fact that she was drifting out to sea. + +It would not be true to say that he was pleased, but a pilot is +prepared for anything, and the thought that he might possibly meet +a sailing ship by and by, reassured him. But it was necessary to +show a light and signal. + +He made his way towards the kitchen, intending to look for matches +and a lantern. Although the sea was very rough, he noticed that +the ship did not move, a fact which astonished him very much. But +when he came to the mainmast, he was even more astonished to find +himself walking on a parqueted floor, partly covered by a strip +of carpet of a small blue and white checked pattern. He walked and +walked, but still the carpet stretched before him, and still he +came no nearer to the kitchen. It was certainly uncanny, but it +was also amusing, for it was a new experience. + +He was a long way off the end of the carpet yet, when he found +himself at the entrance to a passage with brilliantly illuminated +shops on either side. On his right stood a weighing machine and +an automatic figure. Without a moment's hesitation he jumped on the +little platform of the weighing machine and slipped a penny in the +slot. As he was quite sure that he weighed eleven stone, he could +not help smiling when the indicator registered only one. Either +the machine has gone wrong, he thought, or I have been transported +to some other planet, ten times larger, or ten times smaller than +the earth; he had been a pupil at the School of Navigation, you +see, and knew something of astronomy. + +He jumped off and turned to the automatic figure, eager to find +out what it contained; his penny had hardly dropped when a little +flap opened and a large, white envelope, sealed with a big, red seal, +fell out. He couldn't make out the letters on the seal, but that +was neither here nor there, as he did not know who his correspondent +was. + +He tore open the envelope and read ... first of all the signature, +just as everybody else does. The letter began ... but I'll tell +you that later on; it's sufficient for you to know now that he read +it three times and then put it into his breast-pocket with a very +thoughtful mien; a very thoughtful mien. + +Then he penetrated into the heart of the passage, all the time +keeping carefully in the centre of the carpet. There were all sorts +of shops, but not a single human being, either before or behind +the counters. When he had walked a little way, he stopped before a +big shop window, behind which a great number of shells and snails +were exhibited. As the door stood open, he went in. The walls of +the shop were lined with shelves from floor to ceiling and filled +with snails collected from all the oceans of the world. Nobody was +in the shop, but a ring of tobacco smoke hung in the air, which +looked as if somebody had only just blown it. Victor, who was a +bright lad, put his finger through it. "Hurrah!" he laughed, "now +I'm engaged to Miss Tobacco!" + +A queer sound, like the ticking of a clock, fell on his ear, but +there was no clock anywhere, and presently he discovered that the +sound came from a bunch of keys. One of the keys had apparently +just been put into the cash-box, and the other keys swung to and +fro with the regular movement of a pendulum. This went on for quite +a little while. Then there was silence once more, and when it was +as still as still could be, a low whistling sound, like the wind +blowing through the rigging of a ship, or steam escaping through +a narrow tube, could be heard. The sound was made by the snails; +but as they were of different sizes, each one of them whistled in +a different key; it sounded like a whole orchestra of whistlers. +Victor, who was born on a Thursday, and therefore understood the +birds' language, pricked up his ears and tried to catch what they +were whistling. It was not long before he understood what they were +saying. + +"I have the prettiest name," said one of them, "for I am called +Strombus pespelicanus!" + +"I'm much the best looking," said the purple-snail, whose name was +Murex and something else quaint. + +"But I've the best voice," said the tiger-shell; it is called +tiger-shell because it looks like a panther. + +"Oh! tut, tut!" said the common garden-snail, "I'm more in demand +than any other snail in the world; you'll find me all over the +flower-beds in the summer, and in the winter I lie in the wood-shed +in a cabbage tub. They call me uninteresting, but they can't do +without me." + +"What dreadful creatures they are," thought Victor, "they think +of nothing but blowing their own trumpets"; and to while away the +time he took up a book which lay on the counter. As he had learned +to use his eyes, he saw at a glance that it opened at page 240 and +that chapter 51 began at the top of the left-hand side, and had +for a motto a verse written by Coleridge, the gist of which struck +him like a flash of lightning. With burning cheeks and bated breath +he read ... I'll tell you what he read later on, but I may admit +at once that it had nothing whatever to do with snails. + +Victor liked the shop and sat down at a little distance from +the cash-box, the immediate vicinity of which is never without a +certain risk. He began to ponder over all the queer animals which +went down to the sea as he did; he was sure that they could not +find it too warm at the bottom of the sea and yet they perspired; +and whenever they perspired chalk, it immediately became a new +house. They wriggled like worms, some to the right and some to the +left; it was clear that they had to wriggle in some direction and, +of course, they could not all turn to the same side. + +All at once a voice came from the other side of the green curtain +which separated the shop from the back parlour. + +"Yes, we know all that," shouted the voice, "but what we don't +know is this: the cockle of the ear belongs to the species of the +Helix, and the little bones near the drum are exactly like the +animal in Limnaeus stagnalis, and that's printed in a book." + +Victor, who realised at once that the voice belonged to a thought-reader, +shouted back brutally, but without showing the least surprise:-- + +"We know all that, but why we should have a Helix in our ears is +as unknown to the book as to the dealer in snails--" + +"I'm not a dealer in snails," bellowed the voice behind the curtain. + +"What are you, then?" Victor bellowed back. + +"I'm ... a troll!" + +At the same moment the curtains were drawn aside a little, and +a head appeared in the opening of so terrifying an aspect, that +anybody but Victor would have taken to his heels. But he, who +knew exactly how to treat a troll, looked steadily at the glowing +pipe-bowl; for that is exactly what the troll looked like as he +stood blowing rings through the parted curtains. When the smoke +rings had floated within his reach, he caught them with his fingers +and threw them back. + +"I see you can play quoits," snarled the troll. + +"A little bit," answered Victor. + +"And you aren't afraid?" + +"A sailor must never be afraid of anything; if he is, the girls +won't like him." + +And as he was tired of the snails, Victor seized the opportunity +to beat a retreat without appearing to run away. He left the shop, +walking backwards, for he knew that a man must never show his back +to the enemy, because his back is far more sensitive than ever his +face could be. + +And on he went on the blue and white carpet. The passage was not +a straight one, but wound and curved so that it was impossible to +see the end of it; and still there were new shops, and still no +people and no shop proprietors. But Victor, taught by his experience, +understood that they were all in the back parlours. + +At last he came to a scent shop, which smelt of all the flowers of +wood and meadow; he thought of his sweetheart and decided to go in +and buy her a bottle of Eau-de-Cologne. + +No sooner thought than done. The shop was very much like the snail +shop, but the scent of the flowers was so overpowering that it made +his head ache, and he had to sit down on a chair. A strong smell +of almonds caused a buzzing in his cars, but left a pleasant taste +in his mouth, like cherry-wine. Victor, never at a loss, felt in +his pocket for his little brass box, that had a tiny mirror on the +inside of the lid, and put a piece of chewing tobacco in his mouth; +this cleared his brain and cured his headache. Then he rapped on +the counter and shouted:-- + +"Hallo! Any one there?" + +There was no answer. "I'd better go into the back parlour," he +thought, "and do my shopping there." He took a little run, put his +right hand on the counter and cleared it at a bound. Then he pushed +the curtains aside and peeped into the room. A sight met his eyes +which completely dazzled him. An orange tree, laden with blossoms +and fruit, stood on a long table covered with a Persian rug, and +its shining leaves looked like the leaves of a camellia. There +were rows of cut-crystal glasses filled with all the most beautiful +scented flowers of the whole world, such as jasmine, tuberoses, +violets, lilies of the valley, roses, and lavender. On one end +of the table, half hidden by the orange tree, he saw two delicate +white hands and a pair of slender wrists under turned-up sleeves, +busy with a small distilling apparatus, made of silver. He did not +see the lady's face, and she, too, did not appear to see him. But +when he noticed that her dress was green and yellow, he knew at once +that she was a sorceress, for the caterpillar of the hawk-moth is +green and yellow, and it, too, knows how to bewitch the eye. The +lower end of its body looks as if it were its head and has a horn +like a unicorn, so that it frightens away its enemies with its +mock face, while it feeds in peace with that part of its body which +looks like its hind quarter. + +"I know that I'll have a bit of a tussle with her," thought Victor, +"but I'd better let her begin!" He was quite right, because if one +wants to make people talk, one has but to remain silent oneself. + +"Are you the gentleman who is looking for a summer resort?" asked +the lady, coming towards him. + +"That's me!" said Victor, merely in order to say something, for +he had never thought of looking for a summer resort in the winter +time. + +The lady seemed embarrassed, but she was as beautiful as sin, and +cast a bewitching glance at the pilot. + +"It's no use trying to bewitch me, for I am engaged to a very nice +girl," he said, staring between her second and third finger in the +manner of a witch, when she wants to charm the judge. + +The lady was young and beautiful from the waist upwards, but below +the waist she seemed very old; it was just as if she had been +patched together of two pieces which didn't match. + +"Well, show me the summer resort," said the pilot. + +"If you please, sir," replied the lady, opening a door in the +background. + +They went out and at once found themselves in a wood, consisting +entirely of oak trees. + +"We'll only just have to cross the wood, and we'll be there," said +the lady, beckoning to the pilot to go on, for she did not want to +show him her back. + +"I shouldn't wonder if there were a bull somewhere about," said +the pilot, who had all his wits about him. + +"Surely you aren't afraid of a bull?" replied the lady. + +"We'll see," answered the pilot. + +They walked across stony hillocks, tree-roots, moors and fells, +clearings and deep recesses, but Victor could not help turning +round every now and then to see whether she was following him, for +he could not hear her footsteps. And even when he had turned round +and had her right before his eyes he had to look very hard, for +her green and yellow dress made her almost invisible. + +At last they came to an open space, and when Victor had reached +the centre of the clearing, there was the bull; it was just as if +it had stood there all the time waiting for him. It was jet black, +with a white star in the middle of its forehead, and the corners +of its eyes were blood-red. + +Escape was impossible; there was nothing for it but to fight. Victor +glanced at the ground and behold! there lay a stout cudgel, newly +cut. He seized it and took up his position. + +"You or I!" he shouted. "Come on! One--two--three!" The fight +began. The bull backed like a steam-boat, smoke came through its +nostrils, it moved its tail like a propeller, and then came on at +full speed. + +The cudgel flashed through the air and with a sound like a shot hit +the bull right between the eyes. Victor sprang aside, and the bull +dashed past him. Then everything seemed to change, and Victor, +terrified, saw the monster make for the border of the wood, from +whence his sweetheart, in a light summer dress, emerged to meet +him. + +"Climb up the tree, Anna," he shouted. "The bull's coming!" It was +a cry of anguish from the very bottom of his soul. + +And he ran after the monster and hit it on the slenderest part of +its hind-legs in the hope of breaking its shin-bone. With superhuman +strength he felled the giant. Anna was saved, and the pilot held +her in his arms. + +"Where shall we go?" he asked. "Home, of course?" + +It did not occur to him to ask her whence she had come, for reasons +which we shall learn hereafter. + +They walked along the footpath, hand in hand, happy at their +unexpected meeting. When they had gone a little way, Victor suddenly +stood still. + +"Just wait a moment," he said. "I must go and have a look at the +bull; I'm sorry for it, poor brute!" + +The expression of Anna's face changed, and the corners of her eyes +grew bloodshot. "All right! I'll wait," she said, with a savage +and malicious glance at the pilot. + +Victor gazed at her sadly, for he knew that she had told him an +untruth. But he followed her. There was something extraordinary +about her walk, and all at once the whole of his left side grew as +cold as ice. + +When they had proceeded a little further, Victor stopped again. + +"Give me your hand," he said. "No, the left one." He saw that she +was not wearing her engagement ring. + +"Where's your ring?" he asked. + +"I've lost it," she replied. + +"You are my Anna, and yet you are not," he exclaimed. "A stranger +has taken possession of you." + +As he said these words, she looked at him with a side-long glance, +and all at once he realised that her eyes were not human, but the +blood-shot eyes of a bull; and then he understood. + +"Begone, witch!" he cried, and breathed into her face. + +If you could only have seen what happened now! The would-be Anna +was immediately transformed, her face grew green and yellow like +gall, and she burst with rage; at the next moment a black rabbit +jumped over the bilberry bushes and disappeared in the wood. + +Victor stood alone in the perplexing, bewildering forest, but he +was not afraid. "I will go on," he thought, "and if I should meet +the devil himself, I will not be afraid; I shall say the Lord's +Prayer, and that will go a long way towards protecting me." + +He trudged on and presently he came to a cottage. He knocked; the +door was opened by an old woman; he inquired whether he could stay +the night. He could stay, if he liked, but the old dame had nothing +to offer him but a small attic, which was only so so. + +Victor did not mind what it was like, as long as it was a place +where he could sleep. + +When they were agreed about the price, he followed her upstairs +to the attic. A huge wasp's nest hung right over the bed, and the +old dame began to make excuses for harbouring such guests. + +"It doesn't matter in the least," interrupted the pilot, "wasps +are like human beings, quite inoffensive until you irritate them. +Perhaps you keep snakes, too?" + +"Well, there are some, of course." + +"I thought so; they like the warmth of the bed, so we shall get +on. Are they adders or vipers? I don't very much mind which, but +on the whole I prefer vipers." + +The old dame watched him breathlessly while he arranged his bed, +and in every way betrayed his firm resolution to spend the night +in her cottage. + +All at once an excited buzzing could be heard outside the closed +window, and a huge hornet bumped against the glass. + +"Let the poor thing come in," said the pilot, opening the window. + +"No, no, not that one, kill it!" yelled the old dame. + +"Why should I? Perhaps its young ones are in this room, and would +starve. Am I to lie here and listen to the screaming of hungry +babies? No, thank you! Come in, little wasp!" + +"It will sting you!" shrieked the old dame. + +"No, indeed it won't. It only stings the wicked." + +The window was open now. A big hornet, as large as a pigeon's egg, +flew in; buzzing like a bass string, it flew at once to the nest. +And then it was still. + +The old dame left the attic, and the pilot got between the sheets. + +When he came downstairs into the parlour on the following morning, +the old dame was not there. A black cat sat on the only chair and +purred; cats have been condemned to purr, because they are such +lazy beasts, and they must do something. + +"Get up, pussy," said the pilot, "and let me sit down." + +And he took the cat and put it on the hearth. But it was no +ordinary cat, for immediately sparks began to fly from its fur, +and the chips caught file. + +"If you can light a fire, you can make me some coffee," said the +pilot. + +But the cat is so constituted that it never wants to do what it +is told, and so it began at once to swear and spit until the fire +was out. + +In the meantime the pilot had heard somebody leaning a spade against +the wall of the cottage. He looked out of the window and saw the +old dame standing in a pit which she had dug in the garden. + +"I see you are digging a grave for me, old woman," he said. + +The old dame came in. When she saw Victor safe and sound, she was +beside herself with amazement; she confessed that up to now nobody +had ever left the attic alive, and that therefore she had dug his +grave in anticipation. + +She was a little short-sighted, but it seemed to her that the pilot +was wearing a strange handkerchief round his neck. + +"Ha ha! Have you ever seen such a handkerchief in all your life?" +laughed Victor, putting his hand up to his throat. + +Wound round his neck was a snake which had tied itself in front +into a knot with two bright yellow spots; the spots were its ears, +and its eyes shone like diamonds. + +"Show auntie your scarfpins, little pet," said the pilot, gently +scratching its head, and the snake opened its mouth and disclosed +two sharp, pointed teeth right in the middle of it. + +At the sight of them the old dame fell on her knees and said, "Now +I see that you have received my letter and understood its meaning. +You are a brave lad!" + +"So the letter I got out of the automatic machine was from you," +said the pilot, taking it from his breast pocket. "I shall have it +framed when I get home." + +Would you like to know what was written in the letter? Just these +few words in plain English, "Don't be bluffed," which might be +translated, "Fortune favours the Brave." + +*** + +Yes, but how was it that the pilot could walk from the ship down the +passage?" asked Annie-Mary, when her mama had finished the story. +"And did he come back, or had he dreamed the whole story?" + +"I'll tell you another time, little Miss Curiosity," said her mama. + +"And then there was a verse in the book--" + +"What verse? Oh, I see ... in the snail shop. ... Well, I'm afraid +I've forgotten it. But you mustn't ask too many details, for it's +only a fairy tale, little girlie." + + + + + +PHOTOGRAPHER AND PHILOSOPHER + +Once upon a time there was a photographer. He was a splendid +photographer; he did profiles and full-faces, three-quarter and +full-length portraits; he could develop and fix, tone and print +them. He was the deuce of a fellow! But he was always discontented, +for he was a philosopher, a great philosopher and a discoverer. His +theory was that the world was upside down. It was plainly proved by +the plate in the developer. Everything that was on the right side +of the original, now appeared on the left; everything that was +dark, became light; light became shade; blue turned into white, +and silver buttons looked as dark as iron. The world was upside +down. + +He had a partner, quite an ordinary man, full of petty characteristics. +For instance, he smoked cigars all day long; he never shut a door; +he put his knife into his mouth, instead of using his fork; he +wore his hat in the room; he cleaned his nails in the studio, and +in the evening he drank three glasses of beer. + +He was full of faults! + +The philosopher, on the other hand, was perfect, and therefore +he nursed resentment against his imperfect brother; he would have +liked to dissolve the partnership, but he could not, because their +business held them together; and because they were bound to remain +in partnership, the resentment of the philosopher turned into an +unreasonable hatred. It was dreadful! + +When the spring came they decided to take a lodging in a summer +resort, and the partner was despatched to find one. He did find +one. And one Saturday they departed together on a steamer. + +The philosopher sat all day long on deck and drank punch. He was +a very stout man and suffered from several things; his liver was +out of order, and there was something wrong with his feet, perhaps +rheumatism, or some similar disease. When they arrived, they crossed +the bridge and went ashore. + +"Is this the place?" asked the philosopher. + +"A very little walk will take us there," answered the partner. + +They went along a footpath, full of roots, and the path ended +abruptly before a stile. They had to climb over it. Then the road +became stony, and the philosopher complained of his feet, but he +forgot all about his pains when they came to another stile. After +that, all trace of the road disappeared; they walked on the bare +rock through shrubs and bilberry bushes. + +Behind the third fence stood a bull, who chased the philosopher +to the fourth stile, where he arrived in a bath of perspiration, +which opened all the pores of his skin. When they had crossed the +sixth stile, they could see the house. The philosopher went in and +immediately stepped on to the verandah. + +"Why are there so many trees?" he asked. "They interrupt the view." + +"But they shelter the house from the strong sea-breezes," answered +the partner. + +"And the place looks like a churchyard; why, the house stands in +the centre of a pine-wood." + +"A very healthy spot," replied the partner. + +Then they wanted to go and bathe. But there was no proper bathing-place, +in the philosophical sense of the word. There was nothing but the +stony ground and mud. + +After they had bathed the philosopher felt thirsty, and wanted to +drink a glass of water at the spring. It was of a reddish-brown +colour, and had a peculiar, strong taste. It was no good. Nothing +was any good. And meat was unobtainable, there was nothing to be +had but fish. + +The philosopher grew gloomy and sat down under a pumpkin to deplore +his fate. But there was no help for it. He had to stay, and his +partner returned to town to look after the business during his +friend's absence. + +Six weeks passed and then the partner returned to his philosopher. + +He was met on the bridge by a slender youth with red cheeks and a +sunburnt neck. It was the philosopher, rejuvenated and full of high +spirits. + +He jumped over the six stiles and chased the bull. + +When they were sitting on the verandah, the partner said to him:-- + +"You are looking very well, what sort of a time have you had?" + +"Oh! an excellent time!" said the philosopher. "The fences have +taken off my fat; the stones have massaged my feet; the mud-baths +have cured me of my rheumatism; the plain food has cured my liver, +and the pine-trees my lungs; and, could you believe it, the brown +spring-water contained iron, just what I wanted!" + +"Well, you old philosopher," said the partner, "don't you understand +that from the negative you get a positive, where all the shade +becomes light again? If you would only take such a positive picture +of me and try and find out what faults I do _not_ possess, you would +not dislike me so much. Only think: I don't drink, and therefore +I am able to manage the business; I don't steal; I never talk evil of +you behind your back; I never complain; I never make white appear +black; I am never rude to the customers; I rise early in the morning; +I clean my nails so as to keep the developer clean; I leave my +hat on so that no hairs shall fall on the plates; I smoke so as to +purify the air of poisonous gases; I keep the door ajar so as not +to make a noise in the studio; I drink beer in the evening so as +to escape the temptation of drinking whisky; and I put the knife +into my mouth because I am afraid of pricking myself with the fork." + +"You really are a great philosopher," said the photographer, +"henceforth we will be friends! Then we shall get on in life!" + + + +HALF A SHEET OF FOOLSCAP + +The last furniture van had left; the tenant, a young man with +a crape band round his hat, walked for the last time through the +empty rooms to make sure that nothing had been left behind. No, +nothing had been forgotten, nothing at all. He went out into the +front hall, firmly determined never to think again of all that +had happened to him in these rooms. And all at once his eyes fell +on half a sheet of foolscap, which somehow had got wedged between +the wall and the telephone; the paper was covered with writing, +evidently the writing of more persons than one. Some of the +entries were written quite legibly with pen and ink, while others +were scribbled with a lead-pencil; here and there even a red pencil +had been used. It was a record of everything that had happened to +him in the short period of two years; all these things, which he +had made up his mind to forget, were noted down. It was a slice of +a human life on half a sheet of foolscap. + +He detached the paper; it was a piece of scribbling paper, yellow +and shining like the sun. He put it on the mantelpiece in the +drawing-room and glanced at it. Heading the list was a woman's name: +"Alice," the most beautiful name in the world, as it had seemed +to him then, for it was the name of his fiancée. Next to the name +was a number, "15,11." It looked like the number of a hymn, on the +hymn-board. Underneath was written "Bank." That was where his work +lay, his sacred work to which he owed bread, home, and wife--the +foundations of life. But a pen had been drawn through the word, for +the Bank had failed, and although he had eventually found another +berth, it was not until after a short period of anxiety and +uneasiness. + +The next entries were: "Flower-shop and livery-stable." They related +to his betrothal, when he had plenty of money in his pockets. + +Then came "furniture dealer and paper-hanger "--they were furnishing +their house. "Forwarding agents"--they were moving into it. The +"Box-office of the Opera-house, No. 50,50"--they were newly married, +and went to the opera on Sunday evenings; the most enjoyable hours +of their lives were spent there, for they had to sit quite still, +while their souls met in the beauty and harmony of the fairyland +on the other side of the curtain. + +Then followed the name of a man, crossed out. He had been a friend +of his youth, a man who had risen high in the social scale, but +who fell, spoilt by success, fell irremediably, and had to leave +the country. + +So unstable was fortune! + +Now, something new entered the lives of husband and wife. The next +entry was in a lady's hand: "Nurse." What nurse? Well, of course, +the kindly woman with the big cloak and the sympathetic face, who +walked with a soft footfall, and never went into the drawing-room, +but walked straight down the passage to the bedroom. + +Underneath her name was written "Dr. L." + +And now, for the first time, a relative appeared on the list: +"Mama." That was his mother-in-law, who had kept away discreetly, +so as not to disturb their newly found happiness, but was glad to +come now, when she was needed. + +A great number of entries in red and blue pencil followed: "Servants' +Registry Office"--the maid had left and a new one had to be engaged. +"The chemist's"--hm! life was growing dark. "The dairy"--milk had +been ordered--sterilised milk! + +"Butcher, grocer, etc." The affairs of the house were being conducted +by telephone; it argued that the mistress was not at her post. No, +she wasn't, for she was laid up. + +He could not read what followed, for it grew dark before his eyes; +he might have been a drowning man trying to see through salt water. +And yet, there it was written, plainly enough: "undertaker--a large +coffin and a small one." And the word "dust" was added in parenthesis. + +It was the last word of the whole record. It ended with "dust"! +and that is exactly what happens in life. + +He took the yellow paper, kissed it, folded it carefully, and put +it in his pocket. + +In two minutes he had lived again through two years of his life. + +But he was not bowed down as he left the house. On the contrary, +he carried his head high, like a happy and proud man, for he knew +that the best things life has to bestow had been given to him. And +he pitied all those from whom they are withheld. + + + +CONQUERING HERO AND FOOL + +It was on the evening of a spring day in 1880 (a day which will never +be forgotten in Sweden, because it is the day of commemoration of +a national event), when an old couple, simple country people, were +standing on the headland at the entrance to the harbour of Stockholm, +looking at the dark watercourse under the dim stars, and watching +a man who was busy with a dark, undefinable object on the landing +bridge. They stood there for a long, long time, now gazing at the +dark watercourse, now looking at the brilliant lights of the town. + +At last a light appeared on the fjord, then another, then many +lights. The old man seized the woman's hand and pressed it, and +in silence, under the stars, they thanked God for having safely +brought home their son whom they had mourned as dead for a whole +year. + +It is true, he had not been the leader of the expedition, but he +had been one of the crew. And now he was to dine with the long, +receive an order, and, in addition to a sum of money from the +nation, which Parliament had voted for the purpose, an appointment +which would mean bread and butter for the rest of his life. + +The lights grew in size as they approached; a small steamer was +towing a big dark craft, which, seen close by, looked as plain and +simple as most great things do. + +And now the man on the bridge, who had been very busy about the +dark object, struck a match. + +"Whatever is it?" said the old man, much puzzled. "It looks like +huge wax candles." + +They went nearer to examine it more closely. + +"It looks like a frame for drying fishes," said the old woman, who +had been born on the coast. + +Ratsh! It-sh! Si-si-si-si! it said, and the old people were instantly +surrounded by fire and flames. + +Great fiery globes rose up to the skies and, bursting, lit up the +night with a shower of stars; an astronomer, observing the heavens +with a telescope, might have come to the conclusion that new stars +had been born. And he would not have been altogether wrong, for +in the year 1880 new thoughts were kindled in new hearts, and new +light and new discoveries vouchsafed to mankind. Doubtless, there +were weeds, too, growing up together with the splendid wheat; but +weeds have their uses, also; shade and moisture depend on their +presence, and they will be separated from the wheat at harvest +time. But there must be weeds, they are as inseparable from wheat +as chaff is from corn. + +What had puzzled the old couple, however, was a rocket frame, and +when all the smoke had cleared away--for there is no fire without +smoke--not a trace of all the magnificence was left. + +"It would have been jolly to have been in town with them to-night," +said the old woman. + +"Oh, no!" replied the man. "We should have been in the way, poor +people like we ought never to push themselves to the front. And +there's plenty of time to-morrow for seeing the boy, after he has +left his sweetheart, who is dearer to him than we are." + +It was a very sensible speech for the old man to make; but who in +the world is to have sense, if old people have not? + +And then they continued their way to the town. + +*** + +Now, let us see what happened to the son. + +He was the leadsman, that is to say, it was his business to sound +the depths of the sea; he had plumbed the profound abysses of the +ocean, calculated the elevation of the land and the apparent motion +of the sky; he knew the exact time by looking at the sun, and he +could tell from the stars how far they had travelled. He was a man +of importance; he believed that he held heaven and earth in his +hand, measured time and regulated the clock of eternity. And after +he had been the king's guest and received an order to wear on his +breast, he fancied that he was made of finer stuff than most men; +he was not exactly haughty when he met his poor parents and his +sweetheart, but, although they said nothing, they felt that he +thought himself their superior. Possibly he was a little stiff, he +was built that way. + +Well, the official ceremonies were over, but the students also had +decided to pay homage to the heroes, who had returned home after +a prolonged absence. And they went to the capital in full force. + +Students are queer people, who read books and study under Dr. +Know-all; consequently they imagine that they know more than other +people. They are also young, and therefore they are thoughtless +and cruel. + +The respectful and sensible speeches which the old professors had +been making all the afternoon in honour of the explorers had come +to an end, and the procession of the students had started. + +The leadsman and his sweetheart were sitting on a balcony in the +company of the other great men. The ringing of the church bells +and the booming of the guns mingled with the sound of the bugles +and the rolling of the drums; flags were waving and fluttering in +the breeze. And then the procession marched by. + +It was headed by a ship, with sailors and everything else belonging +to it; next walruses came and polar bears, and all the rest of it; +then students in disguise, representing the heroes; the Great Man +himself was represented in his fur coat and goggles. It wasn't +quite respectful, of course; it wasn't a very great honour to be +impersonated in this way; but there it was! It was well meant, no +doubt. And gradually every member of the expedition passed by, one +after the other, all represented by the students. + +Last of all came the leadsman. It was true, nobody could ever have +dreamt of calling him handsome, but there is no need for a man to +be handsome, as long as he is an able leadsman, or anything else +able. The students had chosen a hideous old grumbler to impersonate +him. That alone would not have mattered; but nature had made one of +his arms shorter than the other, and his representative had made +a feature of this defect. And that was too bad; for a defect is +something for which one ought not to be blamed. + +But when the fool who played the leadsman approached the balcony, +he said a few words with a provincial accent, intended to cast +ridicule on the leadsman, who was born in one of the provinces. +It was a silly thing to do, for every man speaks the dialect which +his mother has taught him; and it is nothing at all to be ashamed +of. + +Everybody laughed, more from politeness than anything else, for +the entertainment was gratuitous, but the girl was hurt, for she +hated to see her future husband laughed at. The leadsman frowned +and grew silent. He no longer enjoyed the festivities. But he +carefully hid his real feelings, for otherwise he would have been +laughed at for a fool unable to appreciate a joke. But still worse +things happened, for his impersonator danced and cut all sorts of +ridiculous antics, in the endeavour to act the leadsman's name in +dumb charade; first his surname, which he had inherited from his +father, and then his Christian name, which his mother had chosen +for him at his baptism. These names were sacred to him, and although +there may have been a little boastful sound about them, he had +always scorned to change them. + +He wanted to rise from his chair and leave, but his sweetheart +caught hold of his hand, and he stayed where he was. + +When, the procession was over and everybody who had been sitting +on the balcony had risen, the great man laid a friendly hand on +the girl's shoulder, and said, with his kindly smile:-- + +"They have a strange way here of celebrating their heroes, one +mustn't mind it!" + +In the evening there was a garden party and the leadsman was +present, but his pleasure was gone; he had been laughed at, and he +had grown small in his own estimation, smaller than the fool, who +had made quite a hit as a jester. Therefore he was despondent, +felt uneasy at the thought of the future and doubtful of his own +capability. And wherever he went he met the fool who was caricaturing +him. He saw his faults enlarged, especially his pride and his +boastfulness; all his secret thoughts and weaknesses were made +public. + +For three painful hours he examined the account book of his +conscience; what no man had dared to tell him before, the fool had +told him. Perfect knowledge of oneself is a splendid thing, Socrates +calls it the highest of all goods. Towards the end of the evening +the leadsman had conquered himself, admitted his faults, and resolved +to turn over a new leaf. + +As he was passing a group of people he heard a voice behind a hedge +saying:-- + +"It's extraordinary, how the leadsman has improved. He's really +quite a delightful fellow!" + +These words did him good; but what pleased him more than anything +else were a few whispered words from his sweetheart. + +"You are so nice to-night," she said, "that you look quite handsome." + +He handsome? It must have been a miracle then, and miracles don't +happen nowadays. Yet he had to believe in a miracle, for he knew +himself to be a very plain man. + +Finally the Great Man touched his glass with his knife, and +immediately there was silence, for every body wanted to hear what +he had to say. + +"When a Roman conqueror was granted a triumphal procession," he +began, "a slave always stood behind him in the chariot and incessantly +called out, 'Remember that you are but a man!' while senate and +people paid him homage. And at the side of the triumphal car, which +was drawn by four horses, walked a fool, whose business it was to +dim the splendour of his triumph by shouting insults, and casting +suspicion on the hero's character by singing libellous songs. This +was a good old custom, for there is nothing so fatal to a man than +to believe that he is a god, and there is nothing the gods dislike +so much as the pride of men. My dear young friends! The success +which we, who have just returned home, have achieved, has perhaps +been overrated, our triumph went to our heads, and therefore it was +good for us to watch your antics to-day! I don't envy the jester +his part--far from it; but I thank you for the somewhat strange +homage which you have done us. It has taught me that I have still +a good deal to learn, and whenever my head is in danger of being +turned by flattery, it will remind me that I am nothing but an +ordinary man!" + +"Hear! Hear!" exclaimed the leadsman, and the festivities continued, +undisturbed even by the fool, who had felt a little ashamed of +himself and had quietly withdrawn from the scene. + +So much for the Great Man and the leadsman. Now let us see what +happened to the fool. + +As he was standing close to the table during the Great Man's speech, +he received a glance from the leadsman, which, like a small fiery +arrow, was capable of setting a fortress aflame. And as he went out +into the night, he felt beside himself, like a man who is clothed +in sheets of fire. He was not a nice man. True, fools and jailers +are human beings, like the rest of us, but they are not the very +nicest specimen. Like everybody else he had many faults and weaknesses, +but he knew how to cloak them. Now something extraordinary happened. +Through having mimicked the leadsman all day long, and also, perhaps, +owing to all the drink he had consumed, he had become so much the +part which he had played that he was unable to shake it off; and +since he had brought into prominence the faults and weaknesses of +the leadsman, he had, as it were, acquired them, and that flash +from the leadsman's eye had rammed them down to the very bottom of +his soul, just as a ramrod pushes the powder into the barrel of a +gun. He was charged with the leadsman, so to speak, and therefore, +as he stepped out into the street he at once began to shout and +boast. But this time luck was against him. A policeman ordered him +to be quiet. The fool said something funny, imitating the leadsman's +provincial accent. But the policeman, who happened to be a native +of the same province, was annoyed and wanted to arrest the fool. +Now it is just as difficult for a fool to take a thing seriously +as it is for a policeman to understand a joke; therefore the fool +resisted and created such a disturbance that the policeman struck +him with his truncheon. + +He received a sound beating, and then the policeman let him go. + +You would think that he had had enough trouble now--far from it! + +The chastisement which he had received had only embittered him, +and he went on the warpath, like a red Indian, to see on whom he +might avenge his wrongs. + +Accident, or some other power, guided his footsteps to a locality +mainly frequented by peasants and labourers. He entered a brewery +and found a number of millers and farmer's labourers sitting round +a table, drinking the health of the explorers. When they saw the +fool they took him for the leadsman, and were highly delighted when +he condescended to take a glass in their company. + +Now the demon of pride entered into the soul of the fool. He boasted +of his great achievements; he told them that it was he who had led +the expedition, for would they not have foundered if he had not +sounded the depth of the sea? Would they ever have returned home +if he had not read the stars? + +Smack! an egg hit him between the eyebrows. + +"Leadsman, you're a braggart!" said the miller. "We've known that +for a long time; we knew it when you wrote to the paper saying the +Great Man was another Humboldt!" + +Now another of the leadsman's weaknesses gained the upper hand. + +"The Great Man is a humbug!" he exclaimed, which was not true. + +This was too much for the assembly. They rose from their seats like +one man, seized the fool, and with a leather strap bound him to a +sack of flour. They covered him with flour until he was white from +top to toe, and blackened his face with the wick from one of the +lanterns. The millers' apprentice sewed him to the sack; they +lifted him, sack and lantern, on to the cart, and amid shouting +and laughter proceeded to the market-place. + +There he was exhibited to the passers-by, and everybody laughed at +him. + +When they let him go at last, he went and sat on some stone stairs +and cried. The big fellow sobbed like a little child; one might +almost have felt sorry for him. + + + + +WHAT THE TREE-SWALLOW SANG IN THE BUCKTHORN TREE + +If you are standing at the harbour where all the steamers call, and +look out towards the sea, you will see a mountain on your left, +covered with green trees, and behind the trees a large house built in +the shape of a spider. For in the centre there is a round building +from which radiate eight wings, that look very much like the eight +legs on the round body of a spider. The people who enter the house +do not leave it again at will, and some of them stay there for the +rest of their life, for the house is a prison. + +In the days of King Oscar I, the mountain was not green. On the +contrary, it was grey and cold, for neither moss nor heart's-ease +would grow there, although these plants generally thrive on the +bare rock. There was nothing but grey stone and grey people, who +looked as if they had been turned into stone, and who quarried +stone, broke stone, and carried stone. And among these people there +was one who looked stonier than all the others. + +He was still a youth when, in the reign of King Oscar I., he was +shut up in this prison because he had killed a man. + +He was a prisoner for life, and sewn on his grey prison garb was +a large black "L." + +He was always on the mountain, in winter days and summer time, +breaking stones. In the winter he had only the empty and deserted +harbour to look at; the semicircular bridge with its poles had the +appearance of a yawning row of teeth, and he could see the wood-shed, +the riding-school, and the two gigantic, denuded lime trees. +Sometimes an ice-yacht would sail past the islet; sometimes a few +boys would pass on skates; otherwise it was quiet and forsaken. + +In the summer time it was much jollier. For then the harbour was +full of smart boats, newly painted and decorated with flags. And the +lime trees, in the shade of which he had sat when he was a child, +waiting for his father, who was an engineer on one of the finest +boats, were green. + +It was many years now since he had heard the rustling of the breeze +in the trees, for nothing grew on his cliff, and the only thing in +the world he longed for was to hear once again the whispering of +the wind in the branches of the lime trees at Knightsholm. + +Sometimes, on a summer's day, a steamer would pass the islet; then +he heard the plashing of the waves, or, perhaps, snatches of music; +and he saw bright faces which grew dark as soon as their eyes fell +on the grey stone men on the mountain. + +And then he cursed heaven and earth, his fate and the cruelty of men. +He cursed, year in, year out. And he and his companions tormented +and cursed each other day and night; for crime isolates, but +misfortune draws men together. + +In the beginning his fate was unnecessarily cruel, for the keepers +ill-treated the prisoners, mercilessly and at their pleasure. + +But one day there was a change; the food was better, the treatment +was less harsh, and every prisoner was given a cell of his own to +sleep in. The king himself had loosened the chains of the prisoners +a little; but since hopelessness had petrified the hearts of these +unfortunate men, they were unable to feel anything like gratitude, +and so they continued to curse; and now they came to the conclusion +that it was more pleasant to sleep together in one room, for then +they could talk all night. And they continued to complain of the +food, the clothes, and the treatment, just as before. + +One fine day all the bells of the town were ringing, and those of +Knightsholm rang louder than any of the others. King Oscar was +dead, and the prisoners had a holiday. Since they could talk to +one another now, they talked of murdering the guards and escaping +from prison; and they also talked of the dead king, and they spoke +evil of him. + +"If he had been a just man, he would have set us free," said one +of the prisoners. + +"Or else he would have imprisoned all the criminals who are at +large." + +"Then he himself would have had to be Governor of the Prison, for +the whole nation are criminals." + +It is the way of prisoners to regard all men as criminals, and to +maintain that they themselves were only caught because they were +unlucky. + +But it was a hot summer's day, and the stone man walked along the +shore, listening to the tolling of the bells for Oscar the king. +He raised the stones and looked for tadpoles and sticklebacks, but +could find none; not a fish was visible in the water, and consequently +there was not a sign of a sea-gull or a tern. Then he felt that a +curse rested on the mountain, a curse so strong that it kept even +the fishes and the birds away. He fell to considering the life he +was leading. He had lost his name, both Christian and surname, and +was no more now than No. 65, a name written in figures, instead of +in letters. He was no longer obliged to pay taxes. He had forgotten +his age. He had ceased to be a man, ceased to be a living being, +but neither was he dead. He was nothing but something grey moving +on the mountain and being terribly scorched by the sun. It burned +on his prison garb and on his head with the close-cropped hair, +which in days long passed had been curly, and was combed with a +tooth-comb every Saturday by his mother's gentle hand. He was not +allowed to wear a cap to-day, because it would have facilitated an +attempt at escape. And as the sun scorched his head, he remembered +the story of the prophet Jonah, to whom the Lord gave a gourd so +that he might sit in its shade. + +"A nice gift, that!" he sneered, for he did not believe in anything +good; in fact, he did not believe in anything at all. + +All at once he saw a huge birch branch tossed about in the surf. +It was quite green and fresh and had a white stem; possibly it had +fallen off a pleasure-boat. He dragged it ashore, shook the water +off and carried it to a gully where he put it up, wedged firmly +between three stones. Then he sat down and listened to the wind +rustling through its leaves, which smelt of the finest resin. + +When he had sat for a little while in the shade of the birch he +fell asleep. + +And he dreamed a dream. + +The whole mountain was a green wood with lovely trees and odorous +flowers. Birds were singing, bees and humble-bees buzzing, and +butterflies fluttering from flower to flower. But all by itself +and a little aside stood a tree which he did not know; it was more +beautiful than all the rest; it had several stems, like a shrub, +and the branches looked like lacework. And on one of its branches, +half hidden by its foliage, sat a little black-and-white bird which +looked like a swallow, but wasn't one. + +In his dream he could interpret the language of the birds, and +therefore he understood to some extent what the bird was singing. +And it sang: + +Mud, mud, mud, mud here! We'll throw, throw, throw here! In mud, +mud, mud you died, From mud, mud, mud you'll rise. + +It sang of mud, death, and resurrection; that much he could make +out. + +But that was not all. He was standing alone on the cliff in the +scorching heat of the sun. All his fellows-in-misfortune had forsaken +him and threatened his life, because he had refused to be a party +to their setting the prison on fire. They followed him in a crowd, +threw stones at him and chased him up the mountain as far as he +could go. + +And finally he was stopped by a stone wall. + +There was no possibility of climbing over it, and in his despair +he resolved to kill himself by dashing his head against the stones. +He rushed down the mountain, and behold! a gate was opened at the +same moment--a green garden gate ... and ... he woke up. + +When he thought of his life and realised that the green wood was +nothing but the branch of a birch tree, he grew very discontented +in his heart. + +"If at least it had been a lime tree," he grumbled. And as he +listened he found that it was the birch which had sung so loudly; +it sounded as if some one were sifting sand or gravel, and again +he thought of the lime trees, which make the soft velvety sounds +that touch the heart. + +On the following day his birch was faded and gave little shade. + +On the day after that the foliage was as dry as paper and rattled +like teeth. And finally there was nothing left but a huge birch +rod, which reminded him of his childhood. + +He remembered the gourd of the prophet Jonah, and he cursed when +the sun scorched his head. + +*** + +A new king had come to the throne, and he brought fresh life into +the government of the country. The town was to have a new watercourse, +and therefore all the prisoners were commanded to dredge. + +It was for the first time after many years that he was allowed to +leave his cliff. He was in the boat, swimming on the water, and +saw much in his native town that was new to him; he saw the railway +and the locomotive. And they began dredging just below the railway +station. + +And gradually they brought up all the corruption which lay buried +at the bottom of the sea. Drowned cats, old shoes, decomposed +fat from the candle factory, the refuse from the dye works called +"The Blue Hand," tanners' bark from the tannery, and all the human +misery which the laundresses had batted off the clothes for the +last hundred years. And there was such a terrible smell of sulphur +and ammonia that only a prisoner could be expected to bear it. + +When the boat was full, the prisoners wondered what was going to +be done with their cargo of dirt? The riddle was solved when the +overseer steered for their own cliff. + +All the mud was unloaded there and thrown on the mountain, and soon +the air was filled with the foulest of smells. They waded ankle-deep +in filth, and their clothes, hands, and faces were covered with +it. + +"This is like the infernal regions!" said the prisoners. + +They dredged and unloaded on the cliff for several years, and +ultimately the cliff disappeared altogether. + +And the white snow fell winter after winter on all the corruption +and threw a pure white cover over it. + +And when the spring came once again and all the snow had melted, +the evil smell had disappeared, and the mud looked like mould. There +was no more dredging after this spring, and our stone man was sent +to work at the forge and never came near the cliff. Only once, +in the autumn, he went there secretly, and then he saw something +wonderful. + +The ground was covered with green plants. Ugly sappy plants, it +was true, mostly bur-marigolds, that look like a nettle with brown +flowers, which is ugly because flowers should be white, yellow, +blue or red. And there were true nettles with green blossoms, and +burs, sorrel, thistles, and notch-weed; all the ugliest, burning, +stinging, evil-smelling plants, which nobody likes, and which grow +on dust-heaps, waste land, and mud. + +"We cleaned the bottom of the sea, and now we have all the dirt +here; this is all the thanks we get!" said the prisoner. + +Then he was transferred to another cliff, where a fort was to be +built, and again he worked in stone; stone, stone, stone! + +Then he lost one of his eyes, and sometimes he was flogged. +And he remained a very long time there, so long that the new king +died and was followed by his successor. On coronation day one of +the prisoners was to be released. And it was to be the one who +had behaved best during all the time and had arrived at a clear +understanding that he had sinned. And that was he! But the other +prisoners considered that it would be a wrong towards them, for in +their circles a man who repents is considered a fool, "because he +has done what he couldn't help doing." + +And so the years passed. Our stone man had grown very old, and +because he was now unable to do hard work, he was sent back to his +cliff and set to sew sacks. + +One day the chaplain on his round paused before the stone man, who +sat and sewed. + +"Well," said the clergyman, "and are you never to leave this cliff?" + +"How would that be possible?" replied the stone man. + +"You will go as soon as you come to see that you did wrong." + +"If ever I find a human being who does not only do right, but more +than is right, I will believe that I did wrong! But I don't believe +that there is such a being." + +"To do more than that which is right is to have compassion. May it +please God that you will soon come to know it!" + +One day the stone man was sent to repair the road on the cliff, +which he had not seen for, perhaps, twenty years. + +It was again a warm summer's day, and from the passing steamers, +bright and beautiful as butterflies, came the sounds of music and +gay laughter. + +When he arrived at the headland he found that the cliff had disappeared +under a lovely green wood, whose millions of leaves glittered and +sparkled in the breeze like small waves. There were tall, white +birch trees and trembling aspens, and ash trees grew on the shore. + +Everything was just as it had been in his dream. At the foot of +the trees tall grasses nodded, butterflies played in the sunshine, +and humble-bees buzzed from flower to flower. The birds were singing, +but he could not understand what they said, and therefore he knew +that it was not a dream. + +The cursed mountain had been transformed into a mountain of bliss, +and he could not help thinking of the prophet and the gourd. + +"This is mercy and compassion," whispered a voice in his heart, or +perhaps it was a warning. + +And when a steamer passed, the faces of the passengers did not grow +gloomy, but brightened at the sight of the beautiful scenery; he +even fancied that he saw some one wave a handkerchief, as people +on a steamer do when they pass a summer resort. + +He walked along a path beneath waving trees. It is true, there was +not one lime tree; but he did not dare to wish for one, for fear +the birches might turn into rods. He had learnt that much. + +As he walked through a leafy avenue, he saw in the distance a white +wall with a green gate. And somebody was playing on an instrument +which was not an organ, for the movement was much jollier and +livelier. Above the wall the pretty roof of a villa was visible, +and a yellow and blue flag fluttered in the wind. + +And he saw a gaily coloured ball rise and fall on the other side +of the wall; he heard the chattering of children's voices, and +the clinking of plates and glasses told him that a table was being +laid. + +He went and looked through the gate. The syringa was in full +flower, and the table stood under the flowering shrubs; children +were running about, the piano was being played and somebody sang +a song. + +"This is Paradise," said the voice within him. + +The old man stood a long time and watched, so long that in the end +he broke down, overcome by fatigue, hunger, and thirst, and all +the misery of life. + +Then the gate was opened and a little girl in a white dress came +out. She carried a silver tray in her hand, and on the tray stood +a glass filled with wine, the reddest wine which the old man had +ever seen. And the child went up to the old man and said: + +"Come now, daddy, you must drink this!" + +The old man took the glass and drank. It was the rich man's wine, +which had grown a long way off in the sunny South; and it tasted +like the sweetness of a good life when it is at its very best. + +"This is compassion," said his own old broken voice. "But you, +child, in your ignorance, you wouldn't have brought me this wine +if you had known who I am. Do you know what I am?" + +"Yes, you are a prisoner, I know that," replied the little girl. + +When the old stone man went back, he was no longer a man of stone, +for something in him had begun to quicken. + +And as he passed a steep incline, he saw a tree with many trunks, +which looked like a shrub. It was more beautiful than the others; it +was a buckthorn tree, but the old man did not know it. A restless +little bird, black and white like a swallow, fluttered from +branch to branch. The peasants call it tree-swallow, but its name +is something else. And it sat in the foliage and sang a sweet sad +song: + +In mud, in mud, in mud you died, From mud, from mud, from mud you +rose. + +It was exactly as it had been in his dream. And now the old man +understood what the tree-swallow meant. + + + + +THE MYSTERY OF THE TOBACCO SHED + +Listen to the story of a young opera-singer who was so beautiful +that the people in the street turned round to stare at her when she +passed. And she was not only very beautiful, but she had a better +voice than most singers. + +The conductor of the orchestra, who was also a composer, came and +laid his heart and all his possessions at her feet. She took his +possessions, but left his heart lying in the dust. + +Now she was famous, more famous than any other singer; she drove +through the streets in her elegant victoria, and nodded to her +portrait, which greeted her from all the stationers' and booksellers' +shop windows. + +And as her fame grew, her picture appeared on post-cards, soap and +cigar boxes. Finally her portrait was hung up in the foyer of the +theatre, amongst all the dead immortals; and as a result her head +began to swell. + +One day she was standing on a pier, the sea was very rough and +there was a strong current. The conductor, of course, stood by her +side, and a great many young men were present, paying her court. +The beauty was playing with a rose; all the cavaliers coveted the +flower, but she said that it should become the property of him who +knew how to earn it, and she flung it far out into the sea. The +cavaliers looked at it with longing glances, but the conductor +jumped off the pier without a moment's hesitation, swam like a +sea-gull on the crests of the waves and soon held the flower between +his lips. + +The cavaliers cheered, and the swimmer could read the promise of +love in his lady's eyes. But when he struck out for the shore, he +found that he could not move from the spot. He had been caught in +the current. The singer on the pier did not realise his danger, +but merely thought he was fooling, and therefore she laughed. But +the conductor, who saw death staring him in the face, misunderstood +her laughter; a bitter pang shot through his heart, and then his +love for her was dead. + +However, he came ashore at last, with bleeding hands, for he had +cut them at the pier in many places. + +"I will marry you," said the beauty. + +"No, thank you," replied the conductor; turned, and walked away. + +This was an offence for which she swore that she would be revenged. + +Only the people connected with the theatre, who understand these +things, know how it happened that the conductor lost his post. He +had been firmly established, and it took two years to get rid of +him. + +But he was got rid of; she watched the downfall of her benefactor +and triumphed, and her head swelled still more, in fact it swelled +so much that everybody noticed it. The public, who realised that +the heart underneath the beautiful form was wicked, ceased to be +touched by her singing, and no longer believed in her smiles and +tears. + +She soon became aware of it, and it embittered her. But she continued +ruling at the theatre, suppressed all young talents, and used her +influence with the press to ruin their careers. + +She lost the love and respect of her audiences, but she did not +mind that as long as she remained in power; and as she was wealthy, +influential, and contented, she throve and prospered. + +Now, when people are prosperous, they do not lose flesh; on the +contrary, they are inclined to grow stout; and she really began +to grow corpulent. It came so gradually that she had no idea +of it until it was too late. Bang! The downhill journey is ever a +fast journey, and in her case it was accom-plished with startling +rapidity. She tried every remedy--in vain! She kept the best table +in the whole town, but she starved herself, and the more she starved, +the stouter she grew. + +One more year, and she was no longer a great star, and her pay was +reduced. Two more years and she was half forgotten, and her place +was filled by others. After the third year she was not re-engaged, +and she went and rented an attic. + +"She is suffering from an unnatural corpulency," said the stage-manager +to the prompter. + +"It's not corpulency at all," replied the prompter, "she's just +puffed up with pride." + +*** + +Now she lived in the attic and looked out on a large plantation. In +the middle of this plantation stood a tobacco shed, which pleased +her, because it had no windows behind which curious people could sit +and stare at her. Sparrows had built their nests under the eaves, +but the shed was no longer used for drying or storing tobacco, +which was not, now, grown on the plantation. + +There she lived during the summer, looking at the shed and wondering +what purpose it could possibly serve, for the doors were locked +with large padlocks, padlocks, and nobody ever went in or out. + +She knew that it contained secrets, and what these secrets were, +she was to learn sooner than she expected. + +A few little shreds of her great reputation, to which she clung +desperately, and which helped her to bear her life, were still +left: the memory of her best parts, Carmen and Aida, for which +no successor had yet been found; the public still remembered her +impersonation of these parts, which had been beyond praise. + +Very well, August came; the street lamps were again lighted in the +evenings, and the theatres were reopened. + +The singer sat at her window and looked at the tobacco shed, which +had been painted a bright red, and, moreover, had just received a +new red-tiled roof. + +A man walked across the potato field; he carried a large rusty key, +with which he opened the shed and went in. + +Then two other men arrived; two men whom she thought she had seen +before; and they, too, disappeared in the shed. + +It began to be interesting. + +After a while the three men reappeared, carrying large, strange +objects, which looked like the bottom of a bed or a big screen. + +When they had passed the gate, they turned the screens round +and leaned them against the wall; one of them represented a badly +painted tiled stove, another the door of a country cottage, perhaps +a forester's cottage. Others a wood, a window, and a library. + +She understood. It was the scenery of a play. And after a while +she recognised the rose tree from Faust. + +The shed was used by the theatre for storing scenes and stage +properties; she herself had more than once stood by the side of +the rose tree, singing "Gentle flowers in the dew." + +The thought that they were going to play Faust wrung her heart, but +she had one little comfort: she had never sung the principal part +in it, for the principal part is Margaret's. + +"I don't mind Faust; but I shall die if they play Carmen or Aida." + +And she sat and watched the change in the repertoire. She knew a +fortnight before the papers what was going to be played next. It +was amusing in a way. She knew when the Freischütz was going to +be played, for she saw the wolves' den being brought out; she knew +when they were going to put on the Flying Dutchman, for the ship +and the sea came out of the shed; and Tannhäuser, and Lohengrin, +and many others. + +But the inevitable day dawned--for the inevitable must happen. The +men had again gone into the shed (she remembered that the name of +one of them was Lindquist, and that it was his business to look after +the pulleys), and presently reappeared with a Spanish market-place. +The scene was not standing straight up, so that she could not see +at once what it was, but one of the men turned it slowly over, +and when he stood it up on its side she could see the back, which +is always very ugly. And one after the other, slowly, as if they +warded to prolong the torture, huge, black letters appeared: CARMEN. +It was Carmen! + +"I shall die," said the singer. + +But she did not die, not even when they played Aida. But her +name was blotted out from the memory of the public, her picture +disappeared from the stationers' windows, and from the post-cards; +finally her portrait was removed from the foyer of the theatre by +an unknown hand. + +She could not understand how men could forget so quickly. It was +quite inexplicable! But she mourned for herself as if she were +mourning a friend who had died; and wasn't it true, that the singer, +the famous singer, was dead? + +One evening she was strolling through a deserted street. At one +end of the street was a rubbish shoot. Without knowing why, she +stood still, and then she had an object lesson on the futility of +all earthly things. For on the rubbish heap lay a post-card, and +on the post-card was her picture in the part of Carmen. + +She walked away quickly, suppressing her tears. She came to a little +side street, and stopped before a stationer's shop. It had been +her custom to look at the shop windows to see whether her portrait +was exhibited. But it was not exhibited here; instead of that her +eyes fell on a text and she read it, unconsciously: + +"The face of the Lord is against them that do evil, to cut off the +remembrance of them from the earth." + +Them that do evil! That was the reason why her memory was blotted +out. That was the explanation of the forgetfulness of men. + +"But is it not possible to undo the wrong I have done?" she moaned. +"Have I not been sufficiently punished?" + +And she wandered in the direction of the wood, where she was not +likely to meet anybody. And as she was walking along, crushed, +humiliated, her heart full of despair, she met another lonely +being, who stopped her as she was going to pass him. His eyes begged +permission to speak to her. + +It was the conductor. But his eyes did not reproach her, nor did they +pity her, they only expressed admiration, admiration and tenderness. + +"How beautiful and slender you have grown, Hannah," he said. + +She looked at herself, and she could not help admitting that he +was right. Grief had burnt all her superfluous fat and she was more +beautiful than she had ever been. + +"And you look as young as ever! Younger!" + +It was the first kind word which she had heard for many a day; and +since it had been spoken by him whom she had wronged, she realised +what a splendid character he had, and said so. + +"I hope you haven't lost your voice?" asked the conductor, who +could not bear flattery. + +"I don't know," she sobbed. + +"Come to me to-morrow ... yes, come to the Opera-house, and then +we shall see. I am conducting there. ..." + +The singer went, not once or twice, but many times, and regained +her former position. + +The public had forgiven and forgotten all the evil she had done. +And she became greater and more famous than she had been before. + +Isn't that an edifying story? + + + + +THE STORY OF THE ST. GOTTHARD + +It was Saturday night in Göschenen, in the canton of Uri, that +part of Switzerland which William Tell and Walter Fürst have made +famous. The pretty green village on the northern side of the St. +Gotthard is situated on a little stream which drives a mill-wheel +and contains trout. Quiet, kindly people live there, who speak the +German language and have home rule, and the "sacred wood" protects +their homes from avalanche and landslip. + +On the Saturday night I am speaking of, all the folks were gathering +round the village pump, underneath the great walnut tree, at the +hour when the church bells were ringing the Angelus. The postmaster, +the magistrate, and the colonel were there, all in their shirt-sleeves +and carrying scythes. They had been mowing all day long, and had +come to the pump to wash their scythes, for in the little village +work was sacred and every man was his own servant. Then the young +men came trooping through the village street, carrying scythes too, +and the maids with their milk-pails; finally the cows, a gigantic +breed, every cow as big as a bull. The country is rich and fertile, +but it bears neither wine nor olives, neither the mulberry tree +nor the luxurious maize. Nothing but green grass and golden corn, +the walnut tree and the luscious beet-root grow there. + +At the foot of the steep wall of the St. Gotthard, close to the pump, +stood the inn, "The Golden Horse." All the tired men, regardless +of rank or position, were sitting at a long table in the garden, +not one of them was missing: the magistrate, the postmaster, the +colonel and the farmers' labourers; the straw-hat manufacturer and +his workmen, the little village shoemaker, and the schoolmaster, +they were all there. + +They talked of cattle breeding and harvest time; they sang songs, +reminiscent in their simplicity of cowbells and the shepherd's +flute. They sang of the spring and its pure joys, of its promise +and its hope. And they drank the golden beer. + +After a while the young men rose to play, to wrestle and to jump, +for on the following day was the annual festival of the Rifle +Club, and there would be trials of strength, and competitions; it +was im-portant therefore that their limbs should be supple. + +And at an early hour that night the whole village was in bed, for +no man must be late on the morning of the festival, and no one must +be sleepy or dull. The honour of the village was involved. + +*** + +It was Sunday morning; the sun was shining brightly and the church +bells were ringing. Men and women from the neighbouring villages, +in their best Sunday clothes, were gathering on the village green, +and all of them looked happy and very wide awake. Nearly every man +carried a gun instead of the scythe; and matrons and maids looked +at the men with scrutinising and encouraging eyes, for it was for +the defence of their country and their homes that they had learned +to handle a gun; and to-night the best shot would have the honour +of opening the dance with the prettiest girl of the village. + +A large waggon, drawn by four horses, gaily decorated with flowers +and ribbons, drew up; the whole waggon had been transformed into a +summer arbour; one could not see the people inside, but one could +hear their songs. They sang of Switzerland and the Swiss people, +the most beautiful country and the bravest people in the world. + +Behind the waggon walked the children's procession. They went by +twos, hand in hand, like good friends or little brides and bridegrooms. + +And with the pealing of bells the procession slowly wound up the +mountain to the church. + +After divine service the festivities began, and very soon shots +were fired on the rifle-range, which was built against the rocky +wall of the St. Gotthard. + +The postmaster's son was the best shot in the village, and nobody +doubted that he would win the prize. He hit the bull's-eye four +times out of six. + +From the summit of the mountain came a hallooing and a crashing; +stones and gravel rolled down the precipice, and the fir trees in +the sacred wood rocked as if a gale were blowing. On the top of +a cliff, his rifle slung across his shoulders, frantically waving +his hat, appeared the wild chamois hunter Andrea of Airolo, an +Italian village on the other side of the mountain. + +"Don't go into the wood!" screamed the riflemen. + +Andrea did not understand. + +"Don't go into the sacred wood," shouted the magistrate, "or the +mountain will fall on us!" + +"Let it fall, then," shouted Andrea, running down the cliff with +incredible rapidity. + +"Here I am!" + +"You're too late!" exclaimed the magistrate. + +"I have never been too late yet!" replied Andrea; went to the +shooting-range, raised his rifle six times to his cheek, and each +time hit the bull's-eye. + +Now, he really was the best shot, but the club had its regulations, +and, moreover, the dark-skinned men from the other side of the +mountain, where the wine grew and the silk was spun, were not very +popular. An old feud raged between them and the men of Göschenen, +and the newcomer was disqualified. + +But Andrea approached the prettiest girl in the grounds, who +happened to be the magistrate's own daughter, and politely asked +her to open the dance with him. + +Pretty Gertrude blushed, for she was fond of Andrea, but she was +obliged to refuse his request. + +Andrea frowned, bowed and whispered words into her ear, which +covered her face with crimson. + +"You shall be my wife," he said, "even if I have to wait ten years +for you. I have walked eight hours across the mountain to meet you; +that is why I am so late; next time I shall be in good time, even +if I should have to walk right through the mountain itself." + +The festivities were over. All the riflemen were sitting in +"The Golden Horse," Andrea in the midst of them. Rudi, the son of +the postmaster, sat at the head of the table, because he was the +prize-winner according to the regulations, even if Andrea was the +best shot in reality. + +Rudi was in a teasing mood. + +"Well, Andrea," he said, "we all know you for a mighty hunter; but, +you know, it's easier to shoot a chamois than to carry it home." + +"If I shoot a chamois I carry it home," replied Andrea. + +"Maybe you do! But everybody here has had a shot at Barbarossa's +ring, although nobody has won it yet!" answered Rudi. + +"What is that about Barbarossa's ring?" asked a stranger who had +never been in Göschenen. + +"That's Barbarossa's ring, over there," said Rudi. + +He pointed to the side of the mountain, where a large copper ring +hung on a hook, and went on: + +"This is the road by which King Frederick Barbarossa used to travel +to Italy; he travelled over it six times, and was crowned both in +Milan and in Rome. And as this made him German-Roman emperor, he +caused this ring to be hung up on the mountain, in remembrance of +his having wedded Germany to Italy. And if this ring, so goes the +saying, can be lifted off its hook, then the marriage, which was +not a happy one, will be annulled." + +"Then I will annul it," said Andrea. "I will break the bonds as my +fathers broke the bonds which bound my poor country to the tyrants +of Schwyz, Uri, and Unterwalden." + +"Are you not a Swiss, yourself ?" asked the magistrate severely. + +"No, I am an Italian of the Swiss Confederation." + +He slipped an iron bullet into his gun, took aim and shot. + +The ring was lifted from below and jerked off the hook. Barbarossa's +ring lay at their feet. + +"Long live Italy!" shouted Andrea. throwing his hat into the air. + +Nobody said a word. + +Andrea picked up the ring, handed it to the magistrate and said: + +"Keep this ring in memory of me and this day, on which you did me +a wrong." + +He seized Gertrude's hand and kissed it; climbed up the mountain +and disappeared; was seen again and vanished in a cloud. After a +while he reappeared, high above them; but this time it was merely +his gigantic shadow thrown on a cloud. And there he stood, shaking +a threatening fist at the village. + +"That was Satan himself," said the colonel. + +"No, it was an Italian," said the postmaster. + +"Since it is late in the evening," said the magistrate, "I'll +tell you an official secret, which will be read in all the papers +to-morrow." + +"Hear! hear!" + +"We have received information that when it became known that the +Emperor of France was made a prisoner at Sedan, the Italians drove +the French troops out of Rome, and that Victor Emanuel is at this +moment on his way to the capital." + +"This is great news. It puts an end to Germany's dreams of promenades +to Rome. Andrea must have known about it when he boasted so much." + +"He must have known more," said the magistrate. + +"What? What?" + +"Wait, and you'll see." + +And they saw. + +*** + +One day strangers came and carefully examined the mountain through +their field-glasses. It looked as if they were gazing at the place +where Barbarossa's ring had hung, for that was the spot at which +they directed their glasses. And then they consulted the compass, +as if they did not know which was the North and which was the South. + +There was a big dinner at "The Golden Horse," at which the magistrate +was present. At dessert they talked of millions and millions of +money. + +A short time after "The Golden Horse" was pulled down; next came +the church, which was taken down piece by piece and built up again +on another spot; half the village was razed to the ground; barracks +were built, the course of the stream deflected, the mill-wheel +taken away, the factory closed, the cattle sold. + +And then three thousand Italian-speaking labourers with dark hair +and olive skins arrived on the scene. + +The beautiful old songs of Switzerland and the pure joys of spring +were heard no more. + +Instead of that, the sound of hammering could be heard day and +night. A jumper was driven into the mountain at the exact spot +where Barbarossa's ring had hung; and then the blasting began. + +It would not have been so very difficult (as everybody knew) to +make a hole through the mountain, but it was intended to make two +holes, one on each side, and the two holes were to meet in the +middle; nobody believed that this was possible, for the tunnel was +to be nearly nine miles long. Nearly nine miles! + +And what would happen if they did not meet? Well, they would have +to begin again at the beginning. + +But the engineer-in-chief had assured them that they would meet. + +Andrea, on the Italian side, had faith in the engineer-in-chief, +and since he was himself a very capable fellow, as we know, he +applied for work under him and soon was made a foreman. + +Andrea liked his work. He no longer saw daylight, the green fields +and snow-clad Alps. But he fancied that he was cutting a way for +himself through the mountain to Gertrude, the way which he had +boasted he would come. + +For eight years he stood in darkness, living the life of a dog, +stripped to the waist, for he was working in a temperature of a +hundred degrees. Now the way was blocked by a spring, and he had to +work standing in the water; now by a deposit of loam, and he stood +almost knee-deep in the mire; the atmosphere was nearly always +foul, and many of his fellow-labourers succumbed to it; but new +ones were ever ready to take their place. Finally Andrea, too, +succumbed, and was taken into the hospital. He was tortured by the +idea that the two tunnels would never meet. Supposing they never +met! + +There were also men from the other side in the hospital; and at +times, when they were not delirious, they would ask one another +the all-absorbing question: "Would they meet?" + +The people from the South had never before been so anxious to meet +the people from the North as they were now, deep down in the heart +of the mountain. They knew that if they met, their feud of over +a thousand years' standing would be over, and they would fall into +each other's arms, reconciled. + +Andrea recovered and returned to work; he was in the strike of +1875, threw a stone, and underwent a term of imprisonment. + +In the year 1877 his native village, Airolo, was destroyed by fire. + +"Now I have burnt my boats behind me," he said, "there is no going +back--I must go on." + +The 19th of July 1879 was a day of mourning. The engineer-in-chief +had gone into the mountain to measure and to calculate; and, all +absorbed in his work, he had had a stroke and died. Died with his +race only half run! He ought to have been buried where he fell, +in a more gigantic stone pyramid than any of the Egyptian Pharaohs +had built for tees, and his name, Favre, should have been carved +into the stone. + +However, time passed, Andrea gained money, experience, and strength. +He never went to Göschenen, but once a year he went to the "sacred +wood" to contemplate the devastation, as he said. + +He never saw Gertrude, never sent her a letter; there was no need +for it, he was always with her is his thoughts, and he felt that +her will was his. + +In the seventh year the magistrate died, in poverty. + +"What a lucky thing that he died a poor man," thought Andrea; and +there are not many sons-in-law who would think like that. + +In the eighth year something extraordinary happened; Andrea, +foremost man on the Italian side of the tunnel, was hard at work, +beating on his jumper. There was scarcely any air; he felt suffocated, +and suffered from a disagreeable buzzing in his ears. Suddenly he +heard a ticking, which sounded like the ticking of a wood-worm, +whom people call "the death-watch." + +"Has my last hour come?" he said, thinking aloud. + +"Your last hour!" replied a voice; he did not know whether it was +within or without him, but he felt afraid. + +On the next day he again heard the ticking, but more distinctly, +so that he came to the conclusion that it must be his watch. + +But on the third day, which was a holiday, he heard nothing; and now +he believed that it must have been something supernatural; he was +afraid and went to mass, and in his heart he deplored the futility +of life. He would never see the great day, never win the prize +offered to the man who would first walk through the dividing wall, +never win Gertrude. + +On the Monday, however, he was again the foremost of the men in +the tunnel, but he felt despondent, for he no longer believed that +they would meet the Germans in the mountain. + +He beat and hammered, but without enthusiasm, slowly, as his weakened +heart was beating after the tunnel-sickness. All of a sudden he +heard something like a shot and a tremendous crashing noise inside +the mountain on the other side. + +And now a light burst on him; they had met. + +He fell on his knees and thanked God. And then he arose and began +to work. He worked during breakfast, during dinner, during recreation +time, and during supper. When his right arm was lame with exertion, +he worked with the left one. He thought of the engineer-in-chief, +who had been struck down before the wall of rock; he sang the song +of the three men in the fiery furnace, for it seemed to him that +the air around him was red-hot, while the perspiration dropped from +his forehead, and his feet stood in the mire. + +On the stroke of seven, on the 28th of January, he fell forward +on his jumper, which pierced the wall right through. Loud cheering +from the other side roused him, and he understood; he realised +that they had met, that his troubles were over, and that he was +the winner of ten thousand lire. + +After a sigh of thanksgiving to the All-Merciful God, he pressed +his lips to the bore-hole and whispered the name, of Gertrude; and +then he called for three times three cheers for the Germans. + +At eleven o'clock at night, there were shouts of "attention!" +on the Italian side, and with a thunderous crash, a noise like +the booming of cannon at a siege, the wall fell down. Germans and +Italians embraced one another and wept, and all fell on their knees +and sang the "Te Deum laudamus." + +It was a great moment; it was in 1880, the year in which Stanley's +work in Africa was done, and Nordensköld had accomplished his task. + +When they had sung the "Te Deum" a German workman stepped forward +and handed to the Italians a beautifully got-up parchment. It was +a record and an appreciation of the services of the engineer-in-chief, +Louis Favre. + +He was to be the first man to pass through the tunnel, and Andrea +was appointed to carry the memorial and his name by the little +workmen's train to Airolo. + +And Andrea accomplished his mission faithfully, sitting before the +locomotive on a barrow. + +Yes, it was a great day, and the night was no less great. + +They drank wine in Airolo, Italian wine, and let off fireworks. +They made speeches on Louis Favre, Stanley, and Nordensköld; they +made a speech on the St. Gotthard, which, for thousands of years +had been a barrier between Germany and Italy, between the North and +the South. A barrier it had been, and at the same time a uniter, +honestly dividing its waters between the German Rhine, the French +Rhone, the North Sea and the Mediterranean . ... + +"And the Adriatic," interrupted a man from Tessin. "Don't forget +the Ticino, which is a tributary to the largest river of Italy, +the mighty Po . ..." + +"Bravo! That's better still! Three cheers for the St. Gotthard, +the great Germany, the free Italy, and the new France!" + +It was a great night, following a great day. + +*** + +On the following morning Andrea called at the Engineering Offices. +He wore his Italian shooting-dress; an eagle's feather ornamented +his hat, and a gun and a knapsack were slung across his shoulder. +His face and his hands were white. + +"So you have done with the tunnel," said the cashier, or the +"moneyman," as they called him. "Well, nobody can blame you for +it, for what remains to be done is mason's work. To your account, +then!" + +The moneyman opened a book, wrote something on a piece of paper, +and handed Andrea ten thousand lire in gold. + +Andrea signed his name, put the gold into his knapsack and went. + +He jumped into a workman's train, and in ten minutes he had arrived +at the fallen barrier. There were fires burning in the mountain, +the workmen cheered when they saw him and waved their caps. It was +splendid! + +Ten more minutes and he was at the Swiss side. When he saw the +daylight shining through the entrance to the tunnel, the train +stopped and he got out. + +He walked towards the green light, and came to the village and the +green world, bathed in sunlight; the village had been rebuilt and +looked prettier than before. And when the workmen saw him they +saluted their first man. + +He went straight up to a little house, and there, under a walnut +tree, by the side of the bee-hives, stood Gertrude, calm, and a +hundred times more beautiful and gentle. It looked as if she had +stood there for eight years, waiting for him. + +"Now I have come," he said, "as I intended to come! Will you follow +me to my country?" + +"I will follow you wherever you go!" + +"I gave you a ring long ago; have you still got it?" + +"I have it still!" + +"Then let us go at once! No, don't turn back! Don't take anything +with you!" + +And they went away, hand in hand, but not through the tunnel. + +"On to the mountain!" said Andrea, turning in the direction of the +old pass; "through darkness I came to you, but in light I will live +with you and for you!" + + + + + +THE STORY OF JUBAL WHO HAD NO "I" + +Once upon a time there was a king whose name was John Lackland, +and it is not difficult to imagine the reason why. + +But another time there lived a great singer who was called "Jubal, +who had no I," and I am now going to tell you the reason. + +The name which he had inherited from his father, a soldier, was +Peal, and undeniably there was music in the name. But nature had +also given him a strong will, which stiffened his back like an iron +bar, and that is a splendid gift, quite invaluable in the struggle +for an existence. When he was still a baby, only just able to +stammer a few words, he would never refer to his own little person +as "he," as other babies do, but from the very first he spoke of +himself as "I." You have no "I," said his parents. When he grew +older, he expressed every little want or desire by "I will." But +then his father said to him, "You have no will," and "Your will +grows in the wood." + +It was very foolish of the soldier, but he knew no better; he had +learned to will only what he was ordered to do. + +Young Peal thought it strange that he should be supposed to have +no will when he had such a very strong one, but he let it pass. + +When he had grown into a fine, strong youth, his father said to +him one day, "What trade will you learn?" + +The boy did not know; he had ceased to will anything, because he was +forbidden to do so. It is true, he had a leaning towards music, but +he did not dare to say so, for he was convinced that his parents +would not allow him to become a musician. Therefore, being an +obedient son, he replied, "I don't will anything." + +"Then you shall be a tapster," said the father. + +Whether it was because the father knew a tapster, or because wine +had a peculiar attraction for him, is a matter of indifference. +It is quite enough to know that young Peal was sent to the wine +vaults, and he might have fared a good deal worse. + +There was a lovely smell of sealing-wax and French wine in the +cellars, and they were large and had vaulted roofs, like churches. +When he sat at the casks and tapped the red wine, his heart was +filled with gladness, and he sang, in an undertone at first, all +sorts of tunes which he had picked up. + +His master, to whom wine spelt life, loved song and gaiety, and +never dreamed of stopping his singing; it sounded so well in the +vaults, and, moreover, it attracted customers, which was a splendid +thing from the master's point of view. + +One day a commercial traveller dropped in; he had started life as +an opera-singer, and when he heard Peal, he was so delighted with +him that he invited him to dinner. + +They played nine-pins, ate crabs with dill, drank punch, and, above +everything, sang songs. Between two songs, and after they had sworn +eternal friendship, the commercial traveller said: + +"Why don't you go on the stage?" + +"I?" answered Peal, "how could I do that?" + +"All you have to do is to say 'I will.'" + +This was a new doctrine, for since his third year young Peal +had not used the words "I" and "will." He had trained himself to +neither wish nor will, and he begged his friend not to lead him +into temptation. + +But the commercial traveller came again; he came many times, and +once he was accompanied by a famous singer; and one evening Peal, +after much applause from a professor of singing, took his fate into +his own hands. + +He said good-bye to his master, and over a glass of wine heartily +thanked his friend, the commercial traveller, for having given +him self-confidence and will,--"will, that iron bar, which keeps +a man's back erect and prevents him from grovelling on all fours." +And he swore a solemn oath never to forget his friend, who had +taught him to have faith in himself. + +Then he went to say good-bye to his parents. + +"I will be a singer," he said in a loud voice, which echoed through +the room. + +The father glanced at the horse-whip, and the mother cried; but it +was no use. + +"Don't lose yourself, my darling boy," were the mother's last words. + +*** + +Young Peal managed to raise enough money to enable him to go abroad. +There he learned singing according to all the rules of the art, and +in a few years' time he was a very great singer indeed. He earned +much money and travelled with his own impresario. + +Peal was prospering now and found no difficulty in saying "I will," +or even "I command." His "I" grew to gigantic proportions, and he +suffered no other "I's" near him. He denied himself nothing, and +did not put his light under a bushel. But now, as he was about to +return to his own country, his impresario told him that no man could +be a great singer and at the same time be called Peal; he advised +him to adopt a more elegant name, a foreign name by preference, +for that was the fashion. + +The great man fought an inward struggle, for it is not a very nice +thing to change one's name; it looks as if one were ashamed of +one's father and mother, and is apt to create a bad impression. + +But hearing that it was the fashion, he let it pass. + +He opened his Bible to look for a name, for the Bible is the very +best book for the purpose. + +And when he came to Jubal, "who was the son of Lamech, and the +father of all such as handle the harp and organ," he considered +that he could not do better. The impresario, who was an Englishman, +suggested that he should call himself Mr. Jubal, and Peal agreed. +Henceforth he was Mr. Jubal. + +It was all quite harmless, of course, since it was the fashion, +but it was nevertheless a strange thing with the new name Peal +had changed his nature. His past was blotted out. Mr. Jubal looked +upon himself as an Englishman born and bred, spoke with a foreign +accent, grew side-whiskers and wore very high collars; a checked +suit grew round him as the bark grows round a tree, apparently +without any effort on his part. He carried himself stiffly, and +when he met a friend in the street he acknowledged his friendly +bow with the flicker of an eyelid. He never turned round if anybody +called after him, and he always stood right in the middle of a +street car. + +He hardly knew himself. + +He was now at home again, in his own country, and engaged to sing +at the Opera-house. He played kings and prophets, heroes and demons, +and he was so good an actor that whenever he rehearsed a part, he +instantly became the part he impersonated. + +One day he was strolling along the street. He was playing some sort +of a demon, but he was also Mr. Jubal. Suddenly he heard a voice +calling after him, "Peal!" He did not turn round, for no Englishman +would do such a thing, and, moreover, his name was no longer Peal. + +But the voice called again, "Peal!" and his friend, the commercial +traveller, stood before him, looking at him searchingly, and yet +with an expression of shy kindliness. + +"Dear old Peal, it _is_ you!" he said. + +Mr. Jubal felt that a demon was taking possession of him; he opened +his mouth so wide that he showed all his teeth, and bellowed a curt +"No!" + +Then his friend felt quite convinced that it was he and went away. +He was an enlightened man, who knew men, the world and himself +inside out, and therefore he was neither sorry nor astonished. + +But Mr. Jubal thought he was; he heard a voice within him saying, +"Before the cock crow thou shalt deny me thrice," and he did what +St. Peter had done, he went away and wept bitterly. That is to say, +he wept in imagination, but the demon in his heart laughed. + +Henceforth he was always laughing; he laughed at good and evil, +sorrow and disgrace, at everything and everybody. + +His father and mother knew, from the papers, who Mr. Jubal really +was, but they never went to the Opera-house, for they fancied it +had something to do with hoops and horses, and they objected to +seeing their son in such surroundings. + +Mr. Jubal was now the greatest living singer; he had lost a lot of +his "I," but he still had his will. + +Then his day came. There was a little ballet-dancer who could bewitch +men, and she bewitched Jubal. She bewitched him to such an extent +that he asked her whether he might be hers. (He meant, of course, +whether she would be his, but the other is a more polite way of +expressing it.) + +"You shall be mine," said the sorceress, if I may take you." + +"You may do anything you like," replied Jubal. + +The girl took him at his word and they married. First of all he +taught her to sing and play, and then he gave her everything she +asked for. But since was a sorceress, she always wanted the things +which he most objected to giving to her, and so, gradually, she +wrested his will from him and made him her slave. + +One fine day Mrs. Jubal had become a great singer, so great that +when the audience called "Jubal!" it was not Mr. but Mrs. Jubal +who took the call. + +Jubal, of course, longed to regain his former position, but he +scorned to do it at his wife's expense. + +The world began to forget him. + +The brilliant circle of friends who had surrounded Mr. Jubal in +his bachelor chambers now surrounded his wife, for it was she who +was "Jubal." + +Nobody wanted to talk to him or drink with him, and when he attempted +to join in the conversation, nobody listened to his remarks; it +was just as if he were not present, and his wife was treated as if +she were an unmarried woman. + +Then Mr. Jubal grew very lonely, and in his loneliness he began to +frequent the cafes. + +One evening he was at a restaurant, trying to find somebody to talk +to, and ready to talk to anybody willing to listen to him. All at +once he caught sight of his old friend the commercial traveller, +sitting at a table by himself, evidently very bored. "Thank +goodness," he thought, "here's somebody to spend an hour with--it's +old Lundberg." + +He went to Mr. Lundberg's table and said "good evening." But no sooner +had he done so than his friend's face changed in so extraordinary +a manner that Jubal wondered whether he had made a mistake. + +"Aren't you Lundberg?" he asked. + +"Yes!" + +"Don't you know me? I'm Jubal!" + +"No!" + +"Don't you know your old friend Peal?" + +"Peal died a long time ago." + +Then Jubal understood that he was, from a certain point of view, +dead, and he went away. + +On the following day he left the stage for ever and opened a school +for singing, with the title of a professor. + +Then he went to foreign countries, and remained abroad for many +years. + +Sadness, for he mourned for himself as for a dead friend, and sorrow +were fast making an old man of him. But he was glad that it should +be so, for, he thought, if I'm old, it won't last much longer. But +as he did not age quite as fast as he would have liked, he bought +himself a wig with long white curls. He felt better after that, +for it disguised him completely, so completely that he did not know +himself. + +With long strides, his hands crossed on his back, he walked up and +down the pavements, lost in a brown study; he seemed to be looking +for some one, or expecting some one. If his eyes met the glance of +other eyes, he did not respond to the question in them; if anybody +tried to make his acquaintance, he would never talk of anything but +things and objects. And he never said "I" or "I find," but always +"it seems." He had lost himself, as he did one day just as he was +going to shave. He was sitting before his looking-glass, his chin +covered with a lather of soap; he raised the hand which held the +razor and looked into the glass; then he beheld the room behind his +back, but he could not see his face, and all at once he realised +how matters stood. Now he was filled with a passionate yearning to +find himself again. He had given the best part of himself to his +wife, for she had his will, and so he decided to go and see her. + +When he was back in his native country and walked through the +streets in his white wig, not a soul recognised him. But a musician +who had been in Italy, meeting him in town one day, said in a loud +voice, "There goes a maestro!" + +Immediately Jubal imagined that he was a great composer. He bought +some music paper and started to write a score; that is to say, he +wrote a number of long and short notes on the lines, some for the +violins, of course, others for the wood-wind, and the remainder +for the brass instruments. He sent his work to the Conservatoire. +But nobody could play the music, because it was not music, but only +notes. + +A little later on he was met by an artist who had been in Paris. +"There goes a model!" said the artist. Jubal heard it, and at once +believed that he was a model, for he believed everything that was +said of him, because he did not know who or what he was. + +Presently he remembered his wife, and he resolved to go and see +her. He did go, but she had married again, and she and her second +husband, who was a baron, had gone abroad. + +At last he grew tired of his quest, and, like all tired men, he +felt a great yearning for his mother. He knew that she was a widow +and lived in a cottage in the mountains, so one day he went to see +her. + +"Don't you know me?" he asked. + +"What is your name?" asked the mother. + +"My name is your son's name. Don't you know it?" + +"My son's name was Peal, but yours is Jubal, and I don't know +Jubal." + +"You disown me?" + +"As you disowned yourself and your mother." + +"Why did you rob me of my will when I was a little child?" + +"You gave your will to a woman." + +"I had to, because it was the only way of winning her. But why did +you tell me I had no will?" + +"Well, your father told you that, my boy, and he knew no better; +you must forgive him, for he is dead now. Children, you see, are +not supposed to have a will of their own, but grown-up people are." + +"How well you explain it all, mother! Children are not supposed to +have a will, but grown-up people are." + +"Now, listen to me, Gustav," said his mother, "Gustav Peal . ..." + +These were his two real names, and when he heard them from her +lips, he became himself again. All the parts he had played--kings +and demons, the maestro and the model--cut and ran, and he was but +the son of his mother. + +He put his head on her knees and said, "Now, let me die here, for +at last I am at home." + + + + +THE GOLDEN HELMETS IN THE ALLEBERG + +Anders was the son of poor people, and in his youth he had wandered +through many kingdoms, with a bale of cloth and a yard-measure on +his back. But as he grew older he carne to the conclusion that it +would be better to wear the king's uniform and carry a rifle on +his shoulder, and therefore he went and enlisted in the Västgotadal +regiment. And one day it happened that he was sent to Stockholm on +sentry duty. + +Friend Cask, as he was now called, was on leave one day, and he +made up his mind to spend it at the "Fort." But when he came to the +gate he found that he had not a sixpence, and consequently he had +to remain outside. + +For a long time he stood staring at the railings, and then he +thought, "I'll just walk round; perhaps I'll come across a stile; +if the worst comes to the worst, I'll climb over." + +The sun was setting; he walked along the shore, at the foot of the +mountain, and the railings were high above him; he could hear the +sound of music and singing. Cask went round and round, but found +no stile, and at last the railings disappeared in a forest of nut +trees. When he was tired he sat down on a hillock and began to +crack nuts. + +Suddenly a squirrel appeared before him and put up its tail. + +"Leave my nuts alone!" it said. + +"I will, if you'll take me to a stile," said Cask. + +"Part of the way, then," said the squirrel. It hopped along and +the soldier followed, until all at once it had vanished. + +Then a hedgehog came rustling along. + +"Come with me and I'll show you the stile," it said. + +"Go with you? not if I know it." + +But in spite of his remark the hedgehog followed him. + +Next an adder joined them. It was very genteel; it lisped and could +twist itself into a knot. + +"Follow me," it said, "_I_ will show you the stile." + +"I follow," said Cask. + +"But you mutht be genteel; you muthtn't t stread as me. I like +nithe people." + +"Well, a soldier isn't exactly genteel," said Cask, "but I'm not +so terribly uncouth." + +"Tread on it," said the hedgehog, "else it will bite you, ever so +genteely." + +The adder reared its neck and rustled away. + +"Stop!" shouted the hedgehog, attacking the snake. "I am not as +genteel as you are, but I show my bristles openly, I do!" + +And then it killed the snake and disappeared. + +Now the soldier was alone in the wood and very sorry he felt that +he had rejected the society of the prickly hedgehog. + +It had grown dark, but the crescent of the moon shone between the +birch leaves, and it was quite still. + +The soldier fancied that he could see a big yellow hand moving +backwards and forwards. He went close up to it, and then he saw +that it was a yellow leaf, which seemed to gesticulate with its +fingers, although nobody could possibly understand what it wanted +to say. + +As he stood there, watching it, he heard an asp trembling: + +"Huh! I'm so cold," said the asp, "for my feet are wet, and I _am_ +so frightened." + +"What are you frightened of?" asked the soldier. + +"Well, of the dwarf who is sitting in the mountain." + +Now the soldier realised what the maple leaf meant, and there was +no doubt about it, he saw a dwarf sitting in the mountain, cooking +porridge. + +"Who are you?" asked the dwarf. + +"I belong to the Västgotadal regiment; where do you come from?" + +"I," said the dwarf, "I am in the Alleberg." + +"The Alleberg is in the Västgota country," answered the soldier. + +"We have removed it to this place," replied the dwarf. + +"You lie!" exclaimed the soldier, seized the pot by its handle and +threw the porridge into the fire. + +"Now we'll have a look at the mouse-hole," he said, and went right +into the mountain. + +There he found a giant sitting by a huge fire, making an iron bar +red-hot. + +"Good day, good day," said the soldier, stretching out his hand. + +"Good day to you," said the giant, giving him the red-hot iron bar. + +Cask took the iron and pressed it so hard that it hissed. + +"You have got very warm hands, I must say," he said. "What's your +name?" + +"I'm the giant Swede," said the troll. + +"That was a Swedish hand-shake of yours, anyhow, and now I realise +that I am in the Alleberg. Are the golden helmets still asleep?" + +"Will you be quiet!" exclaimed the giant, threatening him with the +red-hot bar. + +"You shall see them, because you belong to the Västgotadal regiment, +but first of all you must solve my riddle," he continued. + +"If you want to fight one of your own countrymen, well and good. +But first of all, put that fiery thing away!" + +"Very well, Cask, you shall recite the history of Sweden while I +smoke my pipe. Then I will show you the golden helmets. The whole +history of Sweden, please." + +"I can easily do that, although I was not one of the top dogs at +the military school. Let me try and recall it to memory." + +"There is one condition: you must not mention the name of a single +king; for if you do, those inside will get angry; and when they +get angry, then, you know . ..." + +"It will be awfully difficult. But light your pipe and I'll begin. +Here's a match!" + +The soldier scratched his head and began: + +"One--two--three! In the year 1161, or thereabouts, Sweden first +came into existence; a kingdom, a king, and an archbishop--is +that enough?" + +"No," said Swede, "not at all. Begin again." + +"Very well, then! In the year 1359 the Swedish people became a +nation, for then the Parliament of the four estates first met, and +it continued to meet, with interruptions, until 1866." + +"Well, but you're a soldier," said Swede, "surely you'll have a +few words to say about wars." + +"There are only two wars of any importance, and they ended, the +first with the peace of Brömsebro in 1645, when we got Herjedalen, +Jämtland, and Gottland, and the second with the peace of Röskilde +in 1658, when we got Schonen, Halland, Blekinge, and Bohuslän. And +that is all there is of the history of Sweden." + +"But you forget the constitutions?" + +"Well, we had an autocracy from 1680 to 1718 then there followed +a period of freedom until 1789, and this was followed again by an +autocracy. Then came Adlersparre's revolution in 1809, and he got +Hans Järke to draw up the constitution which is still surviving. +That is all you need know. Haven't you finished your pipe yet?" + +"There!" said the giant. "It wasn't so bad on the whole! And now +you shall see the golden helmets." + +The troll arose with difficulty and went into the inferior of the +mountain; the soldier followed at his heels. + +"Tread softly!" said the giant, pointing to a light with a golden +helmet who was leaning against a door, made of rock, apparently +fast asleep. But before the words had been out of his mouth, Cask +stumbled and the iron on the heel of his shoe struck a stone so +forcibly that it emitted sparks. The golden helmet awoke at once, +just as if he had been a sleeping sentry, and called: + +"Is it time?" + +"Not yet!" answered the giant. + +The knight with the golden helmet sat down again and instantly fell +asleep. + +The giant opened a mountain wall and the soldier looked into a huge +hall. A table, that seemed to have no end, ran through the centre +of the hall, and in the twilight the soldier could see a brilliant +gathering of knights with golden helmets sitting in arm-chairs, +the backs of which were decorated with golden crowns. At the head +of the table sat a man who seemed head and shoulders taller than +the rest; his beard reached to his waist, like the beard of Moses +or Joshua, and he held a hammer all his hand. + +All of them seemed fast asleep, although it was neither the sleep +which restores strength, nor the sleep which is called eternal +sleep. + +"Now, pay attention," said the giant, "to-day is the great +commemoration day." + +He pressed a finger on a lark garnet in the mountain rock, and a +thousand flames shot up. + +The golden helmets awoke. + +"Who goes there?" asked the man with the prophet's beard. + +"Swede," answered the giant. + +"A good name!" replied Gustav Eriksson Wasa, for it was he. "How +much time has passed away?" + +"In years, after the birth of Christ, one thousand nine hundred +and three." + +"Time flies. But have you made arty progress? Are you still a +country and a nation?" + +"We are. But since Gustavus I, the country has grown. Jämtland, +Herjedalen, and Gottland have been added." + +"Who conquered them?" + +"Well, it was in the time of Queen Christina; but her guardians +really conquered them." + +"And then?" + +"Then we got Schonen, Halland, Blekinge, and Bohuslän." + +"The deuce you did! Who won them?" + +"Charles X." + +"Well, and then?" + +"Nothing else." + +"Is that all?" + +Somebody knocked on the table. + +"Erich the saint wishes to speak," said Gustav Wasa. + +"My name is Erich Jedvardson, and I never was a saint. May I be +allowed to ask Swede what became of my Finland?" + +"Finland belongs to Russia, by its own wish, after the peace of +Fredrikshamn in 1809, when the Finnish nation sore allegiance to +the Czar." + +Gustavus II., Adolfus, asked permission to speak. + +"Where are the Baltic provinces?" he asked. + +"Reclaimed by their rightful owner," answered Swede. + +"And the emperor? Is there still an emperor?" + +"There are two; one in Berlin. and one in Vienna." + +"Two of the House of Habsburg?" + +"No, one of the House of Habsburg and the other of the House of +Hohenzollern." + +"Incredible! And the Catholics in North Germany--are they converted?" + +"No, the Catholics form the majority in the German Parliament, and +the emperor at Berlin is trying to put pressure on the College of +Cardinals, with a view to influencing the choice of the next Pope." + +"There is still a Pope, then?" + +"Oh! yes, although one of them has just died." + +"And what does the Hohenzollern want in Rome?" + +"No one knows; some say that it is his ambition to become Roman-German +emperor of the Evangelical Confession." + +"A syncretistic emperor dreamt of by John George of Saxony! I don't +want to hear anymore. The ways of Providence are strange, and we +mortals, what are we? Dust and ashes!" + +Charles XII. asked permission to speak. + +"Can Swede tell me what has become of Poland?" + +"Poland is no more. It has been split up." + +"Split up? And Russia?" + +"Russia recently celebrated the foundation of Petersburg, and the +Lord Mavor of Stockholm walked in the procession." + +"As a prisoner?" + +"No, as a guest. All nations are on friendly terms now, and not +very long ago a French army, commanded by a German field-marshall, +invaded China." + +"Delicious! Are people now the friends of their enemies?" + +"Yes, they are all penetrated by a Christian spirit, and there is +a permanent Committee for the Preservation of Peace established at +the Hague." + +"A what?" + +"A permanent Committee for the Preservation of Peace." + +"Then my time is over! God's will be done!" + +The king closed his visor and remained silent. + +Charles, XI. claimed attention. + +"Well, Swede, what about the finances of the old country?" + +"It's difficult to answer your question, for I'm afraid they know +nothing of keeping accounts. But one or two things are certain: +that quite half kingdom has been pledged to the foreigner for about +three hundred millions." + +"Oh! Lord!" + +"And the municipal debts amount to about two hundred millions." + +"Two hundred!" + +"And in the years 1881 to 1885 one hundred and forty-six thousand +Swedes emigrated." + +"Enough! I don't want to hear any more!" + +Gustav Wasa knocked on the table with his hammer. + +"As far as I can understand the matter, the country is in a bad +way. Sluggards you are, lazy, envious, irresponsible sluggards; +too idle to bestir yourselves, but quick enough to prevent anybody +else from doing anything. But tell me, Swede, what about my church +and my priests?" + +"The priests of the church are farmers and dairy-keepers. The bishops +have an income of thirty thousand crowns, and collect money, exactly +as they did before the Recess of Vesteraes; moreover, nearly all +of them are heretics, or free-thinkers, as they call themselves. +Men are beginning to expect some sort of a Reformation." + +"Indeed? ... And what is the meaning of this music and singing up +here?" + +"This is the 'Fort.' That is, a mountain, where they have +a collection of all the national keepsakes, just as if the nation +were anticipating its end and making its last will and testament, +gathering together all the mementoes of the past. It shows reverence +for the ancestors, but nothing else." + +"What we have heard on this commemoration day seems to prove that +the deeds of our forefathers have been engulfed in the ocean of +time. One thing swims on the surface, another sinks to the bottom. +Here we are sitting like the shadows of our former selves, and to +you, who are alive, we must remain shadows . ... Put out the lights!" + +The giant Swede extinguished the lights and went out; the soldier +followed close behind him and climbed into something which looked +like a cage. + +"If you say a word to anybody of what you have seen and heard," +said the giant, "you will be sorry for it." + +"I can quite believe that," answered Cask, "but shall always remember +it. That they should have squandered the old country in drink and +pledge to the foreigner! It's too bad--if it's true." + +"Click" went the turbine; and the lift with soldier shot upwards to +the "Fort." And there stood, in the sunset, and the country looked +just as it had looked when the chimes in the belfry Häsjoer chimed, +and Gustav Wasa entered Stockholm, surrounded by his generals. + + + + +LITTLE BLUEWING FINDS THE GOLDPOWDER + +The rich man had visited the poor island and fallen in love with it. +He could not have said why, but he was charmed; probably the island +resembled some memory of his childhood, or, perhaps, a beautiful +dream. + +He bought the island, built a villa, and planted all sorts of +lovely trees, shrubs, and flowers. And all around was the sea; he +had his own landing-stage, with a flag-staff and white boats; oak +trees, as tall as a church, shaded his house, and cool breezes +gently swept the green meadows. He had a wife, children, servants, +cattle; he had everything, except one thing: it was but a trifle, +but it was more important than anything else in the world, and yet +he had forgotten it until the very last: he had no spring water. +Wells were sunk and rocks were blasted, but all he got was brown, +brackish water; it was filtered until it looked as clear as crystal, +but it remained brackish. And that was where the shoe pinched. + +Then there came to the island a man endowed with great gifts; he had +been lucky in all his enterprises, and was one of the most famous +men in the world. Everybody remembered how he struck the mountain +with his diamond staff and produced water from the rock, like Moses. +Now he was to bore or the island and see whether the mountain would +yield water, as other mountains had done. They spent a hundred, +a thousand, several thousand crowns, but found none but brackish +water. There was no blessing on their undertaking. And it was brought +home to the rich man that money will not buy everything, not even, +when the worst comes to the worst, a drink of fresh water. Thereupon +he grew despondent and life seemed to hold no more happiness in +store for him. + +The schoolmaster searched the old books, and then sent for a venerable +old man, who came and brought his divining rod; but it was no use. + +But the clergyman was a great deal wiser. He assembled all the +school children one day, and offered a prize to the one who could +bring him a plant called "goldpowder," in Latin Chrysosplenium, +which will only grow near a spring. + +"It has a flower," he said, "like the bird's-eye and leaves like the +saxifrage, and it looks as if it had gold dust on its top leaves. +Remember that!" + +"A flower like the bird's-eye and leaves like the saxifrage," +repeated the children; and they ran into the wood and the fields +to look for the goldpowder. + +Not one of the children found it; a little boy, it is true, came +home with some milk-weed, which have a tiny bit of gold dust on +the points of its leaves; but the milk-weed is poisonous, and it +was not at all what was wanted. And finally the children grew tired +of looking for it and gave it up. + +But there lived on the island a little girl, too small yet to go to +school. Her father had served in the dragoons, and owned a little +farm, but he was rather poor than rich. His only treasure was +his little daughter, whom everybody in the village called "Little +Bluewing," because she always wore a ski blue dress with wide +sleeves, which fluttered like wings when she moved. There is, by +the bye, a little blue butterfly whom the people call bluewing; you +can see it in the summer sitting on the tall blades of the grass, +and its wings resemble a flax blossom; a fluttering flax blossom +with antenna instead of filaments. + +Little Bluewing, the dragoon's little bluewing, that is, was not +like other children; she always talked very sensibly, but she often +said queer things, and everybody was puzzled to know where she got +them from. All living things loved her, even the animals; fowls +and calves ran up to her when they saw her, and she even dared +to stroke the bull. She frequently went out by herself and stayed +away a long tune, but when anybody asked her where she had been, +she could not tell. But she had had the most wonderful adventures; +she had seen strange things; she had met venerable old men and +women, who ha told her no end of wonderful stories. The dragoon +let her do as she liked, for he knew that a guardian spirit was +watching over her. + +*** + +One morning Little Bluewing went out for a walk. She ran through +fields and meadows, singing songs which nobody had ever heard, +and which came into her heart from nowhere. The morning sun shone +brightly and seemed so young, as if it had only just been born; the +air was fresh and sweet, and the evaporating dew cooled her little +face. + +When she came to the wood, she met an old man in a green dress. + +"Good morning, Little Bluewing," said the old man, "I am the gardener +at Sunnyglade; come and look at my flowers." + +"Too much honour for me," answered Little Bluewing. + +"Not at all, for you have never ill-used flowers." + +They walked together to the strand and crossed a little bridge, +which led to an islet. + +On the islet was a wonderful garden. Every flower, large and small, +grew there, and everything was in order, just as if the garden had +been a book. + +The old man lived in a house which was built of growing ever-green +trees-pines, fir trees, and junipers; the floor consisted of growing +ever-green shrubs. Moss and lichen grew in the crevices and held +them together. The roof was made entirely of creepers, Virginia +creeper, Caprifolium, and ivy, and it was so thick that not a drop +of rain could come through. A number of bee-hives stood before the +door, but butterflies lived in them instead of bees; just think of +the lovely sight when they swarmed! + +"I don't like torturing bees," explained the old man. "And, +moreover, I consider them not at all pretty; they look like hairy +coffee-beans and sting like adders." + +And then they went into the garden. + +"Now, you may read in the book of nature and learn the secrets and +sensibilities of the plants. But you must not ask questions, only +listen to what I say and answer me . ... Now, look here, little +one, on this grey stone something is growing which looks like grey +paper. This is the first thing which grows when the rock becomes +damp. It grows mouldy, you see, and the mould is called lichen. +Here are two kinds: one looks like the horns of a reindeer, it is +called reindeer-moss, and the reindeer feeds on it; and the other +is called Iceland-moss, and looks like ... now, what does it look +like?" + +"It looks like lungs, anyhow it says so in the natural history +book." + +"Quite right; looked at through a magnifying glass, it has exactly +that appearance, and that is how people came to think of using it +as a remedy for all sorts of diseases of the chest. Later, when +the lichen has gathered enough vegetable soil, the mosses appear; +they have quite simple flowers and grow seed. They are not unlike +ice-flowers, but they are also like heather and fir trees and all +sorts of other things, for all plants are related. The wall-moss +here looks like a fir tree, but it has seed cases, like a poppy, +only rather more simple. Once moss has begun to grow an a spot, +heather is not very long in coming. And if you examine heather +through a strong magnifying-glass, it is like milk-wort, Epilobium +in Latin or a rhododendron, or like an elm tree, which is nothing +more nor less than a huge nettle. + +"Now, we have a perfect covering for the rocks, and in this mould +everything will grow. Man has domesticated a number of plants, but +nature herself has directed him which to take and how to use their +is so extraordinary as the colour and ornaments which the flowers +have acquired to tell the bees where the honey is. You have often seen +an ear of rye, which shows a baker's implements like a signboard. +And if you look at the flax, the most useful of all the plants, +you will have to admit that it is the plant itself which has taught +man to spin. Look right into the heart of the flower and you will +find the filaments wound round the style like flax round a spindle. +And to make her meaning even more plain, nature has planted a +parasite, the bind-weed by its side, which winds itself round and +round the plant up and down, to and fro, like a weaver's shuttle. +And isn't it wonderful that not a man, but a butterfly, first +thought of spinning the flax? People call it 'flax-spinner,' for +with its own silk and the leaves of the plant it weaves little +sheets and blankets for its young ones. And so cunning it is that +when flax began to be cultivated, it completely adapted itself to +the new conditions, so that the young ones should be hatched before +the flax was harvested. And now, look at the medicinal herbs! Look +at the large poppy, for instance, fiery red it is, like fever and +insanity! But in the heart of the blossom is a black cross, just +like the cross on the chemist's label which he puts on his poisons. +In the middle of the cross is a Roman vase with little grooves. +When these grooves are pricked the drug runs out, the powerful +drug, which will call either death, or death's gentle brother, +sleep. Yes, now you can form an idea of the generosity and wisdom +of nature. + +"And now, let's see about the goldpowder." + +He paused to see whether Little Bluewing was at all curious. But +she was not. + +"And now, let's see about the goldpowder," he repeated. + +Another pause! No, Little Bluewing could hold her tongue, although +she was as not much more than a baby. + +"And now, let's see about the goldpowder," he said for the third +time, "which has flowers like the bird's-eye and leaves like the +saxifrage. That's its distinctive mark, and tells you where water +can be found. The bird's-eye collects dew and water in its leaves, +and is in itself a tiny, clear rivulet; but the saxifrage can +break mountain rocks. There is no spring without a mountain, be +the mountain never so distant. This is what the goldpowder tells +all those who can understand its message. It grows here, on this +island, and you shall know the spot, because your heart is pure. +The rich man shall receive water for his parched soul from your +tiny hand, and through you all the island shall be blessed. Go in +peace, my child, and when you come to the wood where the nuts grow, +you will find a silver-linden on your right; at its foot lies a +copper coloured slow-worm, which is not dangerous. It show you the +way to the goldpowder. But before you go, you must give the old +man a kiss, that is to say, if you want to." + +Little Bluewing held up her lips and kissed the old man, and +immediately his face changed and he looked fifty years younger. + +"I have kissed a child, I have grown young again," said the gardener. +"You owe me no thanks. Farewell!" + +Little Bluewing went to the wood where the nuts grew. The silver-linden +was rustling in the breeze, and the humble-bees hummed and buzzed +round its blossoms. The slow-worm was really there, although its +copper looked a bit rusty. + +"Hallo! There is Little Bluewing, who is to have the goldpowder," +said the copper snake. "Well, you shall have it on three conditions: +no to talk, not to be led astray, not to be inquisitive. Now go +straight ahead and you will find the goldpowder." + +Little Bluewing went straight ahead. On her way she met a woman. + +"Good morning, child," said the woman. "Have you been to see the +gardener at Sunnyglade?" + +"Good morning, woman," said Little Bluewing without stopping. + +"Well, you aren't a gossip," said the woman. + +Next she met a gipsy. + +"Where are you going to?" asked the gipsy. + +"Straight ahead," answered Little Bluewing. + +"Then you won't be led astray," said the gipsy. + +Then she met a milkman. But she could not understand why the horse +was inside the cart and the milkman harnessed to the shafts. + +"Now I shall shy and run away," said the milkman, and gave such +a start that the horse fell out of the cart into the ditch . ... +"Now I shall water the rye," he went on, and took the lid off one +of his milk cans. + +Little Bluewing thought it strange, but continued her way without +giving him as much as a look. + +"And you aren't curious, either," said the milkman. + +And now Little Bluewing was standing at the foot of the mountain; +the sunbeams fell through the hazel bushes on the green leaves of +a luxurious plant which shone like gold. + +It was the goldpowder. Little Bluewing noticed how it followed +the vein of the spring down the mountain side into the rich man's +meadow. + +She belt down and gathered three flowers, put them carefully into +her pinafore and took them home to her father. + +The dragoon put on sword, helmet, and uniform, and went with his +little daughter to the clergyman. And all three went to the rich +man. + +"Little Bluewzng has found the goldpowder!" said the clergyman, as +soon as he entered the drawing-room. "And now the whole village +will be rich before long, because it is sure to become a summer +resort." + +And it became a summer resort before long; steamers and shop people +arrived; an inn and a post-office were built; a doctor settled on +the island, and a chemist. Gold poured into the village all during +the summer, and that is the story of the goldpowder, which +can transform poverty into wealth. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, IN MIDSUMMER DAYS AND OTHER TALES *** + +This file should be named 8mdot10.txt or 8mdot10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8mdot11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8mdot10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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