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diff --git a/old/7762-h.htm.2021-01-26 b/old/7762-h.htm.2021-01-26 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..92efc6f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/7762-h.htm.2021-01-26 @@ -0,0 +1,15558 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Wanderers, by Knut Hamsun + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + .side { float: right; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; margin-left: 0.8em; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wanderers, by Knut Hamsun + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Wanderers + +Author: Knut Hamsun + +Commentator: W. W. Worster + +Translator: W. W. Worster + + +Release Date: March, 2005 [EBook #7762] +This file was first posted on May 14, 2003 +Last Updated: March 15, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WANDERERS *** + + + + +Text file produced by Eric Eldred, Robert Connal and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + WANDERERS + </h1> + <h2> + By Knut Hamsun + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h4> + Translated from the Norwegian of by W. W. Worster <br /> <br /> With an + Introduction by W. W. Worster + </h4> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>WANDERERS</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> <b>UNDER THE AUTUMN STAR</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> XXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> XXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> XXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> XXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> XXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> XXXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> XXXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> XXXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> XXXIV </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> <b>A WANDERER PLAYS ON MUTED STRINGS</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_INTR2"> INTRODUCTION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0046"> VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0047"> VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0048"> IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0049"> X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0051"> XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0052"> XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0053"> XIV </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_EPIL"> <b>EPILOGUE</b> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WANDERERS + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION + </h2> + <p> + An autobiographical element is evident in practically everything that + Hamsun has written. But it is particularly marked in the two volumes now + published under the common title of “Wanderers,” as well as in the sequel + named “The Last Joy.” These three works must be considered together. They + have more in common than the central figure of “Knut Pedersen from the + Northlands” through whose vision the fates of Captain Falkenberg and his + wife are gradually unfolded to us. Not only do they refer undisguisedly to + events known to be taken out of Hamsun's own life, but they mirror his + moods and thoughts and feelings during a certain period so closely that + they may well be regarded as diaries of an unusually intimate character. + It is as psychological documents of the utmost importance to the + understanding of Hamsun himself that they have their chief significance. + As a by-product, one might almost say, the reader gets the art which + reveals the story of the Falkenbergs by a process of indirect approach + equalled in its ingenuity and verisimilitude only by Conrad's best + efforts. + </p> + <p> + The line of Hamsun's artistic evolution is easily traceable through + certain stages which, however, are not separated by sharp breaks. It is + impossible to say that one stage ended and the next one began in a certain + year. Instead they overlap like tiles on a roof. Their respective + characters are strikingly symbolized by the titles of the dramatic trilogy + which Hamsun produced between 1895 and 1898—“At the Gate of the + Kingdom,” “The Game of Life,” and “Sunset Glow.” + </p> + <p> + “Hunger” opened the first period and “Pan” marked its climax, but it came + to an end only with the eight-act drama of “Vendt the Monk” in 1902, and + traces of it are to be found in everything that Hamsun ever wrote. + Lieutenant Glahn might survive the passions and defiances of his youth and + lapse into the more or less wistful resignation of Knut Pedersen from the + Northlands, but the cautious, puzzled Knut has moments when he shows not + only the Glahn limp but the Glahn fire. + </p> + <p> + Just when the second stage found clear expression is a little hard to + tell, but its most characteristic products are undoubtedly the two volumes + now offered to the American public, and it persists more or less until + 1912, when “The Last Joy” appeared, although the first signs of Hamsun's + final and greatest development showed themselves as early as 1904, when + “Dreamers” was published. The difference between the second and the third + stages lies chiefly in a maturity and tolerance of vision that restores + the narrator's sense of humour and eliminates his own personality from the + story he has to tell. + </p> + <p> + Hamsun was twenty-nine when he finished “Hunger,” and that was the age + given to one after another of his central figures. Glahn is twenty-nine, + of course, and so is the Monk Vendt. With Hamsun that age seemed to stand + principally for the high water mark of passion. Because of the fire + burning within themselves, his heroes had the supreme courage of being + themselves in utter defiance of codes and customs. Because of that fire + they were capable of rising above everything that life might bring—above + everything but the passing of the life-giving passion itself. A Glahn + dies, but does not grow old. + </p> + <p> + Life insists on its due course, however, and in reality passion may sink + into neurasthenia without producing suicides. Ivar Kareno discovers it in + “Sunset Glow,” when, at the age of fifty, he turns renegade in more senses + than one. But even then his realization could not be fully accepted by the + author himself, still only thirty-eight, and so Kareno steps down into the + respectable and honoured sloth of age only to be succeeded, by another + hero who has not yet passed the climacteric twenty-ninth year. Even + Telegraph-Rolandsen in “Dreamers” retains the youthful glow and charm and + irresponsibility that used to be thought inseparable from the true Hamsun + character. + </p> + <p> + It is therefore with something of a shock one encounters the enigmatic + Knut Pedersen from the Northlands, who has turned from literature to + tramping, who speaks of old age as if he had reached the proverbial + three-score and ten, and who time and again slips into something like + actual whining, as when he says of himself: “Time has worn me out so that + I have grown stupid and sterile and indifferent; now I look upon a woman + merely as literature.” The two volumes named “Under the Autumn Star” and + “A Wanderer Plays on Muted Strings” form an unbroken cry of regret, and + the object of that regret is the hey-day of youth—that golden age of + twenty-nine—when every woman regardless of age and colour and caste + was a challenging fragment of life. + </p> + <p> + Something more than the passing of years must have characterized the + period immediately proceeding the production of the two volumes just + mentioned. They mark some sort of crisis reaching to the innermost depths + of the soul it wracked with anguish and pain. Perhaps a clue to this + crisis may be found in the all too brief paragraph devoted to Hamsun in + the Norwegian “Who's who.” There is a line that reads as follows: + “Married, 1898, Bergljot Bassöe Bech (marriage dissolved); 1908, Marie + Andersen.” The man that wrote “Under the Autumn Star” was unhappy. But he + was also an artist. In that book the artist within him is struggling for + his existence. In “A Wanderer Plays with Muted Strings” the artist is + beginning to assert himself more and more, and that he had conquered in + the meantime we know by “Benoni” and “Rosa” which appeared in 1908. The + crisis was past, but echoes of it were heard as late as 1912, the year of + “Last Joy,” which well may be called Hamsun's most melancholy book. Yet + that is the book which seems to have paved the way and laid the foundation + for “The Growth of the Soil”—just as “Dreamers” was a sketch out of + which in due time grew “Children of the Time” and “Segelfoss Town.” + </p> + <p> + Hamsun's form is always fluid. In the two works now published it + approaches formlessness. “Under the Autumn Star” is a mere sketch, + seemingly lacking both plan and plot. Much of the time Knut Pedersen is + merely thinking aloud. But out of his devious musings a purpose finally + shapes itself, and gradually we find ourselves the spectator of a marital + drama that becomes the dominant note in the sequel. The development of + this main theme is, as I have already suggested, distinctly Conradian in + its method, and looking back from the ironical epilogue that closes “A + Wanderer Plays on Muted Strings,” one marvels at the art that could work + such a compelling totality out of such a miscellany of unrelated + fragments. + </p> + <p> + There is a weakness common to both these works which cannot be passed up + in silence. More than once the narrator falls out of his part as a tramp + worker to rail journalistically at various things that have aroused his + particular wrath, such as the tourist traffic, the city worker and + everything relating to Switzerland. It is done very naively, too, but it + is well to remember how frequently in the past this very kind of naiveté + has associated with great genius. And whatever there be of such + shortcomings is more than balanced by the wonderful feeling for and + understanding of nature that most frequently tempt Hamsun into straying + from the straight and narrow path of conventional story telling. What + cannot be forgiven to the man who writes of “faint whisperings that come + from forest and river as if millions of nothingnesses kept streaming and + streaming,” and who finds in those whisperings “one eternity coming to an + understanding with another eternity about something”? + </p> + <h3> + EDWIN BJORKMAN + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + UNDER THE AUTUMN STAR + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. + </h2> + <p> + Smooth as glass the water was yesterday, and smooth as glass it is again + today. Indian summer on the island, mild and warm—ah! But there is + no sun. + </p> + <p> + It is many years now since I knew such peace. Twenty or thirty years, + maybe; or maybe it was in another life. But I have felt it some time, + surely, since I go about now humming a little tune; go about rejoicing, + loving every straw and every stone, and feeling as if they cared for me in + return. + </p> + <p> + When I go by the overgrown path, in through the woods, my heart quivers + with an unearthly joy. I call to mind a spot on the eastern shores of the + Caspian, where I once stood. All just as it is here, with the water still + and heavy and iron-grey as now. I walked through the woods, touched to the + heart, and verging on tears for sheer happiness' sake, and saying to + myself all the time: God in heaven. To be here again.... + </p> + <p> + As if I had been there before. + </p> + <p> + Ah well, I may have been there once before, perhaps, coming from another + time and another land, where the woods and the woodland paths were the + same. Perhaps I was a flower then, in the woods, or perhaps a beetle, with + its home in some acacia tree. + </p> + <p> + And now I have come to this place. Perhaps I was a bird and flew all that + long way. Or the kernel in some fruit sent by a Persian trader. + </p> + <p> + See, now I am well away from the rush and crowd of the city, from people + and newspapers; I have fled away from it all, because of the calling that + came to me once more from the quiet, lonely tracts where I belong. “It + will all come right this time,” I tell myself, and am full of hope. Alas, + I have fled from the city like this before, and afterwards returned. And + fled away again. + </p> + <p> + But this time I am resolved. Peace I will have, at any cost. And for the + present I have taken a room in a cottage here, with Old Gunhild to look + after me. + </p> + <p> + Here and there among the pines are rowans, with ripe coral berries; now + the berries are falling, heavy clusters striking the earth. So they reap + themselves and sow themselves again, an inconceivable abundance to be + squandered every single year. Over three hundred clusters I can count on a + single tree. And here and there about are flowers still in bloom, + obstinate things that will not die, though their time is really past. + </p> + <p> + But Old Gunhild's time is past as well—and think you she will die? + She goes about as if death were a thing did not concern her. When the + fishermen are down on the beach, painting their boats or darning nets, + comes Gunhild with her vacant eyes, but with a mind as keen as any to a + bargain. + </p> + <p> + “And what is the price of mackerel today?” she asks. + </p> + <p> + “The same as yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you can keep it, for all I care.” + </p> + <p> + And Gunhild goes back home. + </p> + <p> + But the fishermen know that Gunhild is not one of those that only pretend + to go away; she has gone off like that before now, up to her cottage, + without once looking back. So, “Hey” they call to her, and say they'll + make it seven to the half-dozen today, seeing she is an old customer. + </p> + <p> + And Gunhild buys her fish. + </p> + <p> + Washing hangs on the lines to dry; red petticoats and blue shirts, and + under-things of preposterous thickness, all spun and woven on the island + by the old women still left alive. But there is washing, too, of another + sort: those fine chemises without sleeves, the very thing to make a body + blue with cold, and mauve woollen undervests that pull out to no more than + the thickness of a string. And how did these abominations get there? Why, + 'tis the daughters, to be sure, the young girls of the present day, who've + been in service in the towns, and earned such finery that way. Wash them + carefully, and not too often, and the things will last for just a month. + And then there is a lovely naked feeling when the holes begin to spread. + </p> + <p> + But there is none of that sort of nonsense, now, about Gunhild's shoes, + for instance. At suitable intervals, she goes round to one of the + fishermen, her like in age and mind, and gets the uppers and the soles + done in thoroughly with a powerful mess of stuff that leaves the water + simply helpless. I've seen that dubbin boiling on the beach; there's + tallow in it, and tar and resin as well. + </p> + <p> + Wandering idly along the beach yesterday, looking at driftwood and scales + and stones, I came upon a tiny bit of plate glass. How it ever got there, + is more than I can make out; but the thing seems a mistake, a very lie, to + look at. Would any fisherman, now, have rowed out here with it and laid it + down and rowed away again? I left it where it lay; it was thick and common + and vulgar; perhaps a bit of a tramcar window. Once on a time glass was + rare, and bottle-green. God's blessing on the old days, when something + could be rare! + </p> + <p> + Smoke rising now from the fisher-huts on the southern point of the island. + Evening time, and porridge cooking for supper. And when supper's done, + decent folk go to their beds, to be up again with the dawn. Only young and + foolish creatures still go trapesing round from house to house, putting + off their bedtime, not knowing what is best for themselves. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + A man landed here this morning—come to paint the house. But Old + Gunhild, being very old indeed, and perishing with gout most times, gets + him to cut up a few days' firewood for her cooking before he starts. I've + offered many a time to cut that wood myself, but she thinks my clothes too + fine, and would not let me have the ax on any account. + </p> + <p> + This painter, now, is a short, thick-set fellow with red hair and no + beard. I watch him from behind a window as he works, to see how he handles + the ax. Then, noticing that he is talking to himself, I steal out of the + house to listen. If he makes a false stroke, he takes it patiently, and + does not trouble himself; but whenever he knocks his knuckles, he turns + irritable and says: “<i>Fan! Fansmagt</i>!” [Footnote: “The Devil! Power + of the Devil!”]—and then looks round suddenly and starts humming a + tune to cover his words. + </p> + <p> + Yes; I recognize that painter man. Only, he's not a painter at all, the + rascal, but Grindhusen, one of the men I worked with when I was roadmaking + at Skreia. + </p> + <p> + I go up to him, and ask if he remembers me, and we talk a bit. + </p> + <p> + Many, many years it is now since we were roadmenders together, Grindhusen + and I; we were youngsters then, and danced along the roads in the sorriest + of shoes, and ate what we could get as long as we had money enough for + that. But when we'd money to spare, then there would be dancing with the + girls all Saturday night, and a crowd of our fellow-workers would come + along, and the old woman in the house sold us coffee till she must have + made a little fortune. Then we worked on heart and soul another week + through, looking forward to the Saturday again. But Grindhusen, he was as + a red-headed wolf after the girls. + </p> + <p> + Did he remember the old days at Skreia? + </p> + <p> + He looks at me, taking stock of me, with something of reserve; it is quite + a while before I can draw him out to remember it at all. + </p> + <p> + Yes, he remembers Skreia well enough. + </p> + <p> + “And Anders Fila and 'Spiralen' and Petra?” + </p> + <p> + “Which one?” + </p> + <p> + “Petra—the one that was your girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, I remember her. I got tied up with her at last.” Grindhusen falls to + chopping wood again. + </p> + <p> + “Got tied up with her, did you?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, that was the end of it. Had to be, I suppose. What was I going to + say, now? You've turned out something fine, by the look of things.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? Is it these clothes you're thinking of? You've Sunday clothes + yourself, now, haven't you?” + </p> + <p> + “What d'you give for those you've got on?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't remember, but it was nothing very much. Couldn't say exactly what + it was.” + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen looks at me in astonishment and bursts out laughing. + </p> + <p> + “What? Can't remember what you paid for them?” + </p> + <p> + Then he turns serious, shakes his head, and says: “No, I dare say you + wouldn't. No. That's the way when you've money enough and beyond.” + </p> + <p> + Old Gunhild comes out from the house, and seeing us standing there by the + chopping-block wasting time in idle talk, she tells Grindhusen he'd better + start on the painting. + </p> + <p> + “So you've turned painter now?” said I. + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen made no answer, and I saw I had said a thing that should not + have been said in others' hearing. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + Grindhusen works away a couple of hours with his putty and paint, and soon + one side of the little house, the north side, facing the sea, is done all + gaily in red. At the mid-day rest, I go out and join him, with something + to drink, and we lie on the ground awhile, chatting and smoking. + </p> + <p> + “Painter? Not much of a one, and that's the truth,” says he. “But if any + one comes along and asks if I can paint a bit of a wall, why, of course I + can. First-rate <i>Brændevin</i> this you've got.” + </p> + <p> + His wife and two children lived some four miles off, and he went home to + them every Saturday. There were two daughters besides, both grown up, and + one of them married. Grindhusen was a grandfather already. As soon as he'd + done painting Gunhild's cottage—two coats it was to have—he + was going off to the vicarage to dig a well. There was always work of some + sort to be had about the villages. And when winter set in, and the frost + began to bind, he would either take a turn of woodcutting in the forests + or lie idle for a spell, till something else turned up. He'd no big family + to look after now, and the morrow, no doubt, would look after itself just + as today. + </p> + <p> + “If I could only manage it,” said Grindhusen, “I know what I'd do. I'd get + myself some bricklayer's tools.” + </p> + <p> + “So you're a bricklayer, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, not much of a one, and that's the truth. But when that well's dug, + why, it'll need to be lined, that's clear....” + </p> + <p> + I sauntered about the island as usual, thinking of this and that. Peace, + peace, a heavenly peace comes to me in a voice of silence from every tree + in the wood. And now, look you, there are but few of the small birds left; + only some crows flying mutely from place to place and settling. And the + clusters from the rowans drop with a sullen thud and bury themselves in + the moss. + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen is right, perhaps: tomorrow will surely look after itself, just + as today. I have not seen a paper now these last two weeks, and, for all + that, here I am, alive and well, making great progress in respect of + inward calm; I sing, and square my shoulders, and stand bareheaded + watching the stars at night. + </p> + <p> + For eighteen years past I have sat in cafés, calling for the waiter if a + fork was not clean: I never call for Gunhild in the matter of forks clean + or not! There's Grindhusen, now, I say to myself; did you mark when he lit + his pipe, how he used the match to the very last of it, and never burned + his horny fingers? I saw a fly crawling over his hand, but he simply let + it crawl; perhaps he never noticed it was there. That is the way a man + should feel towards flies.... + </p> + <p> + In the evening, Grindhusen takes the boat and rows off. I wander along the + beach, singing to myself a little, throwing stones at the water, and + hauling bits of driftwood ashore. The stars are out, and there is a moon. + In a couple of hours Grindhusen comes back, with a good set of + bricklayer's tools in the boat. Stolen them somewhere, I think to myself. + We shoulder each our load, and hide away the tools among the trees. + </p> + <p> + Then it is night, and we go each our separate way. + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen finishes his painting the following afternoon, but agrees to go + on cutting wood till six o'clock to make up a full day's work. I get out + Gunhild's boat and go off fishing, so as not to be there when he leaves. I + catch no fish, and it is cold sitting in the boat; I look at my watch + again and again. At last, about seven o'clock: he must be gone by now, I + say to myself, and I row home. Grindhusen has got over to the mainland, + and calls across to me from there: <i>“Farvel!”</i> + </p> + <p> + Something thrilled me warmly at the word; it was like a calling from my + youth, from Skreia, from days a generation gone. + </p> + <p> + I row across to him and ask: + </p> + <p> + “Can you dig that well all alone?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I'll have to take another man along.” + </p> + <p> + “Take me,” I said. “Wait for me here, while I go up and settle at the + house.” + </p> + <p> + Half-way up I heard Grindhusen calling again: + </p> + <p> + “I can't wait here all night. And I don't believe you meant it, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait just a minute. I'll be down again directly.” + </p> + <p> + And Grindhusen sets himself down on the beach to wait. He knows I've some + of that first-rate <i>Brændevin</i> still left. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + We came to the vicarage on a Saturday. After much doubting, Grindhusen had + at last agreed to take me as his mate. I had bought provisions and some + working clothes, and stood there now, in blouse and high boots, ready to + start work. I was free and unknown; I learned to walk with a long, + slouching stride, and for the look of a laboring man, I had that already + both in face and hands. We were to put up at the vicarage itself, and cook + our food in the brew-house across the yard. + </p> + <p> + And so we started on our digging. + </p> + <p> + I did my share of the work, and Grindhusen had no fault to find with me as + a work-mate. “You'll turn out a first-rate hand at this, after all,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + Then after we'd been working a bit, the priest came out to look, and we + took off our hats. He was an oldish man, quiet and gentle in his ways and + speech; tiny wrinkles spread out fanwise from the corners of his eyes, + like the traces of a thousand kindly smiles. He was sorry to interrupt, + and hoped we wouldn't mind—but they'd so much trouble every year + with the fowls slipping through into the garden. Could we leave the well + just for a little, and come round and look at the garden wall? There was + one place in particular.... + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen answered: surely; we'd manage that for him all right. + </p> + <p> + So we went up and set the crumbling wall to rights. While we were busy + there a young lady came out and stood looking on. We greeted her politely, + and I thought her a beautiful creature to see. Then a half-grown lad came + out to look, and asked all sorts of questions. The two were brother and + sister, no doubt. And the work went on easily enough with the young folk + there looking on. + </p> + <p> + Then evening came. Grindhusen went off home, leaving me behind. I slept in + the hayloft for the night. + </p> + <p> + Next day was Sunday. I dared not put on my town clothes lest they should + seem above my station, but cleaned up my working things as neatly as I + could, and idled about the place in the quiet of Sunday morning. I chatted + to the farm-hands and joined them in talking nonsense to the maids; when + the bell began ringing for church, I sent in to ask if I might borrow a + Prayer Book, and the priest's son brought me one himself. One of the men + lent me a coat; it wasn't big enough, really, but, taking off my blouse + and vest, I made it do. And so I went to church. + </p> + <p> + That inward calm I had been at such pains to build up on the island proved + all too little yet; at the first thrill of the organ I was torn from my + setting and came near to sobbing aloud. “Keep quiet, you fool,” I said to + myself, “it's only neurasthenia.” I had chosen a seat well apart from the + rest, and hid my emotion as best I could. I was glad when that service was + over. + </p> + <p> + When I had boiled my meat and had some dinner, I was invited into the + kitchen for a cup of coffee. And while I sat there, in came Frøkenen, the + young lady I had seen the day before; I stood up and bowed a greeting, and + she nodded in return. She was charming, with her youth and her pretty + hands. When I got up to go, I forgot myself and said: + </p> + <p> + “Most kind of you, I'm sure, my dear young lady!” + </p> + <p> + She glanced at me in astonishment, frowned, and the colour spread in her + cheeks till they burned. Then with a toss of her head she turned and left + the room. She was very young. + </p> + <p> + Well, I had done a nice thing now! + </p> + <p> + Miserable at heart, I sneaked up into the woods to hide. Impertinent fool, + why hadn't I held my tongue! Of all the ridiculous things to say.... + </p> + <p> + The vicarage buildings lay on the slope of a small hill; from the top, the + land stretched away flat and level, with alternating timber and clearing. + It struck me that here would be the proper place to dig the well, and then + run a pipe-line down the slope to the house. Judging the height as nearly + as I can, it seems more than enough to give the pressure needed; on the + way back I pace out the approximate length: two hundred and fifty feet. + </p> + <p> + But what business was it of mine, after all? For Heaven's sake let me not + go making the same mistake again, and insulting folk by talking above my + station. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <p> + Grindhusen came out again on Monday morning, and we fell to digging as + before. The old priest came out to look, and asked if we couldn't fix a + post for him on the road up to the church. He needed it badly, that post; + it had stood there before, but had got blown down; he used it for nailing + up notices and announcements. + </p> + <p> + We set up a new post, and took pains to get it straight and upstanding as + a candle in a stick. And by the way of thanks we hooded the top with zinc. + </p> + <p> + While I was at work on the hood, I got Grindhusen to suggest that the post + should be painted red; he had still a trifle of red paint left over from + the work at Gunhild's cottage. But the priest wanted it white, and + Grindhusen was afraid to contradict, and carefully agreed to all he said, + until at last I put in a word, and said that notices on white paper would + show up better against red. At that the priest smiled, with the endless + wrinkles round his eyes, and said: “Yes, yes, of course, you're quite + right.” + </p> + <p> + And that was enough; just that bit of a smile and saying I was right made + me all glad and proud again within. + </p> + <p> + Then Frøkenen came up, and said a few words to Grindhusen; even jested + with him, asking what that red cardinal was to be stuck up there for on + the road. But to me she said nothing at all, and did not even look at me + when I took off my hat. + </p> + <p> + Dinner was a sore trial to me that day, not that the food was bad, no, but + Grindhusen, he ate his soup in a disgusting fashion, and his mouth was all + greasy with fat. + </p> + <p> + “What'll he be like when it comes to eating porridge?” I thought to myself + hysterically. + </p> + <p> + Then when he leaned back on the bench to rest after his meal in the same + greasy state, I called to him straight out: + </p> + <p> + “For Heaven's sake, man, aren't you going to wipe your mouth?” + </p> + <p> + He stared at me, wiping his mouth with one hand. “Mouth?” he said. + </p> + <p> + I tried to turn it off then as a joke, and said: “Haha, I had you there!” + But I was displeased with myself, for all that, and went out of the + brewhouse directly after. + </p> + <p> + Then I fell to thinking of Frøkenen. “I'll make her answer when I give a + greeting,” I said to myself. “I'll let her see before very long that I'm + not altogether a fool.” There was that business of the well and the + pipe-line, now; what if I were to work out a plan for the whole + installation all complete! I had no instruments to take the height and + fall of the hill ... well, I could make one that would serve. And I set to + work. A wooden tube, with two ordinary lamp-glasses fixed in with putty, + and the whole filled with water. + </p> + <p> + Soon it was found there were many little things needed seeing to about the + vicarage—odd matters here and there. A stone step to be set straight + again, a wall to be repaired; the bridgeway to the barn had to be + strengthened before the corn could be brought in. The priest liked to have + everything sound and in order about the place—and it was all one to + us, seeing we were paid by the day. But as time went on I grew more and + more impatient of my work-mate's company. It was torture to me, for + instance, to see him pick up a loaf from the table, hold it close in to + his chest, and cut off a slice with a greasy pocket-knife that he was + always putting in his mouth. And then, again, he would go all through the + week, from Sunday to Sunday, without a wash. And in the morning, before + the sun was up, and the evening, after it had gone, there was always a + shiny drop hanging from the tip of his nose. And then his nails! And as + for his ears, they were simply deformed. + </p> + <p> + Alas! I was an upstart creature, that had learned fine manners in the + cafés in town. And since I could not keep myself from telling my companion + now and then what I thought of his uncleanly ways, there grew up a certain + ill-feeling between us, and I feared we should have to separate before + long. As it was, we hardly spoke now beyond what was needed. + </p> + <p> + And there was the well, as undug as ever. Sunday came, and Grindhusen had + gone home. + </p> + <p> + I had got my apparatus finished now, and in the afternoon I climbed up to + the roof of the main building and set it up there. I saw at once that the + sight cut the hillside several metres below the top. Good. Even reckoning + a whole metre down to the water-level, there would still be pressure + enough and to spare. + </p> + <p> + While I was busy up there the priest's son caught sight of me. Harald + Meltzer was his name. And what was I doing up there? Measuring the hill; + what for? What did I want to know the height for? Would I let him try? + </p> + <p> + Later on I got hold of a line ten metres long, and measured the hill from + foot to summit, with Harald to help. When we came down to the house, I + asked to see the priest himself, and told him of my plan. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI + </h2> + <p> + The priest listened patiently, and did not reject the idea at once. + </p> + <p> + “Really, now!” he said, with a smile. “Why, perhaps you're right. But it + will cost a lot of money. And why should we trouble about it at all?” + </p> + <p> + “It's seventy paces from the house to the well we started to dig. Seventy + steps for the maids to go through mud and snow and all sorts, summer and + winter.” + </p> + <p> + “That's true, yes. But this other way would cost a terrible lot of money.” + </p> + <p> + “Not counting the well—that you'll have to have in any case; the + whole installation, with work and material, ought not to come to more than + a couple of hundred Kroner,” said I. + </p> + <p> + The priest looked surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + I waited a little each time before answering, as if I were slow by nature, + and born so. But, really, I had thought out the whole thing beforehand. + </p> + <p> + “It would be a great convenience, that's true,” said the priest + thoughtfully. “And that water tub in the kitchen does make a lot of mess.” + </p> + <p> + “And it will save carrying water to the bedrooms as well.” + </p> + <p> + “The bedrooms are all upstairs. It won't help us there, I'm afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “We can run the pipes up to the first floor.” + </p> + <p> + “Can we, though? Up to the bedrooms? Will there be pressure enough for + that, do you think?” + </p> + <p> + Here I waited longer than usual before answering, as a stolid fellow, who + did not undertake things lightly. + </p> + <p> + “I think I can answer for a jet the height of the roof,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Really, now!” exclaimed the priest. And then again: “Come and let us see + where you think of digging the well.” + </p> + <p> + We went up the hill, the priest, Harald, and I, and I let the priest look + through my instrument, and showed him that there would be more than + pressure enough. + </p> + <p> + “I must talk to the other man about it,” he said. + </p> + <p> + But I cut out Grindhusen at once, and said: “Grindhusen? He's no idea of + this work at all.” + </p> + <p> + The priest looked at me. + </p> + <p> + “Really?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Then we went down again, the priest talking as if to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Quite right; yes. It's an endless business fetching water in the winter. + And summer, too, for that matter. I must see what the women think about + it.” + </p> + <p> + And he went indoors. + </p> + <p> + After ten minutes or so, I was sent for round to the front steps; the + whole family were there now. + </p> + <p> + “So you're the man who's going to give us water laid on to the house?” + said Fruen kindly. + </p> + <p> + I took off my cap and bowed in a heavy, stolid fashion, and the priest + answered for me: yes, this was the man. + </p> + <p> + Frøkenen gave me one curious glance, and then started talking in an + undertone to her brother. Fruen went on with more questions—would it + really be a proper water-supply like they had in town, just turn on a tap + and there was the water all ready? And for upstairs as well? A couple of + hundred Kroner? “Really, I think you ought to say yes,” she said to her + husband. + </p> + <p> + “You think so? Well, let's all go up to the top of the hill and look + through the thing and see.” + </p> + <p> + We went up the hill, and I set the instrument for them and let them look. + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful!” said Fruen. + </p> + <p> + But Frøkenen said never a word. + </p> + <p> + The priest asked: + </p> + <p> + “But are you sure there's water here?” + </p> + <p> + I answered carefully, as a man of sober judgment, that it was not a thing + to swear to beforehand, but there was every sign of it. + </p> + <p> + “What sort of signs?” asked Fruen. + </p> + <p> + “The nature of the ground. And you'll notice there's willow and osiers + growing about. And they like a wet soil.” + </p> + <p> + The priest nodded, and said: + </p> + <p> + “He knows his business, Marie, you can see.” + </p> + <p> + On the way back, Fruen had got so far as to argue quite unwarrantably that + she could manage with one maid less once they'd water laid on. And not to + fail her, I put in: + </p> + <p> + “In summer at least you might. You could water all the garden with a hose + fixed to the tap and carried out through the cellar window.” + </p> + <p> + “Splendid!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + But I did not venture to speak of laying a pipe to the cow-shed. I had + realized all the time that with a well twice the size, and a branch pipe + across the yard, the dairymaid would be saved as much as the kitchen-maids + in the house. But it would cost nearly twice as much. No, it was not wise + to put forward so great a scheme. + </p> + <p> + Even as it was, I had to agree to wait till Grindhusen came back. The + priest said he wanted to sleep on it. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII + </h2> + <p> + So now I had to tell Grindhusen myself, and prepare him for the new + arrangement. And lest he should turn suspicious, I threw all the blame on + the priest, saying it was his idea, but that I had backed him up. + Grindhusen had no objection; he saw at once it meant more work for us + since we should have the well to dig in any case, and the bed for the + pipes besides. + </p> + <p> + As luck would have it, the priest came out on Monday morning, and said to + Grindhusen half jestingly: + </p> + <p> + “Your mate here and I have decided to have the well up on the hill, and + lay down a pipe-line to the house. What do you think of it? A mad idea?” + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen thought it was a first-rate idea. + </p> + <p> + But when we came to talk it over, and went up all three to look at the + site of the well, Grindhusen began to suspect I'd had more to do with it + than I had said. We should have to lay the pipes deep down, he said, on + account of the frost.... + </p> + <p> + “One metre thirty's plenty,” I said. + </p> + <p> + ... and that it would cost a great deal of money. + </p> + <p> + “Your mate here said about a couple of hundred Kroner in all,” answered + the priest. + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen had no idea of estimates at all, and could only say: + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, two hundred Kroner's a deal of money, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + I said: + </p> + <p> + “It will mean so much less in <i>Aabot</i> when you move.” + </p> + <p> + The priest looked at me in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Aabot</i>? But I'm not thinking of leaving the place,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, you'll have the full use of it. And may your reverence live to + enjoy it for many a year,” said I. + </p> + <p> + At this the priest stared at me, and asked: + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” + </p> + <p> + “Knut Pedersen.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you from?” + </p> + <p> + “From Nordland.” + </p> + <p> + But I understood why he had asked, and resolved not to talk in that + bookish way any more. + </p> + <p> + Anyhow, the well and the pipe-line were decided on, and we set to work.... + </p> + <p> + The days that followed were pleasant enough. I was not a little anxious at + first as to whether we should find water on the site, and I slept badly + for some nights. But once that fear was past, all that remained was simple + and straightforward work. There was water enough; after a couple of days + we had to bale it out with buckets every morning. It was clay lower down, + and our clothes were soon in a sorry state from the work. + </p> + <p> + We dug for a week, and started the next getting out stones to line the + well. This was work we were both used to from the old days at Skreia. Then + we put in another week digging, and by that time we had carried it deep + enough. The bottom was soon so soft that we had to begin on the stonework + at once, lest the clay walls should cave in on top of us. + </p> + <p> + So week after week passed, with digging and mining and mason's work. It + was a big well, and made a nice job; the priest was pleased with it. + Grindhusen and I began to get on better together; and when he found that I + asked no more than a fair labourer's wage, though much of the work was + done under my directions, he was inclined to do something for me in + return, and took more care about his table manners. Altogether, I could + not have wished for a happier time; and nothing on earth should ever + persuade me to go back to town life again! + </p> + <p> + In the evenings I wandered about the woods, or in the churchyard reading + the inscriptions on the tombstones, and thinking of this and that. Also, I + was looking about for a nail from some corpse. I wanted a nail; it was a + fancy of mine, a little whim. I had found a nice piece of birch-root that + I wanted to carve to a pipe-bowl in the shape of a clenched fist; the + thumb was to act as a lid, and I wanted a nail to set in, to make it + specially lifelike. The ring finger was to have a little gold ring bent + round. + </p> + <p> + Thinking of such trifles kept my mind calm and at ease. There was no hurry + now for me about anything in life. I could dream as I pleased, having + nothing else to do; the evenings were my own. If possible, too, I would + see and arrive at some feeling of respect for the sacredness of the church + and terror of the dead; I had still a memory of that rich mysticism from + days now far, far behind, and wished I could have some share in it again. + Now, perhaps, when I found that nail, there would come a voice from the + tombs: “That is mine!” and I would drop the thing in horror, and take to + my heels and run. + </p> + <p> + “I wish that vane up there wouldn't creak so,” Grindhusen would say at + times. + </p> + <p> + “Are you afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, not properly afraid; no. But it gives you a creeping feeling now + and then to think of all the corpses lying there so near.” + </p> + <p> + Happy man! + </p> + <p> + One day Harald showed me how to plant pine cones and little bushes. I'd no + idea of that sort of work before; we didn't learn it in the days when I + was at school. But now I'd seen the way of it, I went about planting + busily on Sundays; and, in return, I taught Harald one or two little + things that were new to him at his age, and got to be friends with him. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII + </h2> + <p> + And all might have been well if it had not been for Frøkenen, the daughter + of the house. I grew fonder of her every day. Her name was Elischeba, + Elisabeth. No remarkable beauty, perhaps; but she had red lips, and a + blue, girlish glance that made her pretty to see. Elischeba, Elisabeth—a + child at the first dawn of life, with eyes looking out upon the world. She + spoke one evening with young Erik from the neighbouring <i>gaard</i>, and + her eyes were full of sweetness and of something ripening. + </p> + <p> + It was all very well for Grindhusen. He had gone ravening after the girls + when he was young, and he still spanked about with his hat on one side, + out of habit. But he was quiet and tame enough now, as well he might be—'tis + nature's way. But some there are who would not follow nature's way, and be + tamed; and how shall it fare with them at last? And then there was little + Elisabeth; and she was none so little after all, but as tall as her + mother. And she'd her mother's high breast. + </p> + <p> + Since that first Sunday they had not asked me in to coffee in the kitchen, + and I took care myself they should not, but kept out of the way. I was + still ashamed of the recollection. But then, at last, in the middle of the + week, one of the maids came with a message that I was not to go running + off into the woods every Sunday afternoon, but come to coffee with the + rest. Fruen herself had said so. + </p> + <p> + Good! + </p> + <p> + Now, should I put on my best clothes or not? No harm, perhaps, in letting + that young lady get into her head that I was one who had chosen to turn my + back upon the life of cities, and taken upon myself the guise of a + servant, for all I was a man of parts, that could lay on water to a house. + But when I had dressed, I felt myself that my working clothes were better + suited to me now; I took off my best things again, and hid them carefully + in my bag. + </p> + <p> + But, as it happened, it was not Frøkenen at all who received me on that + Sunday afternoon, but Fruen. She talked to me for quite a while, and she + had spread a little white cloth under my cup. + </p> + <p> + “That trick of yours with the egg is likely to cost us something before + we've done with it,” said Fruen, with a kindly laugh. “The boy's used up + half a dozen eggs already.” + </p> + <p> + I had taught Harald the trick of passing a hard boiled egg with the shell + off through the neck of a decanter, by thinning the air inside. It was + about the only experiment in physics that I knew. + </p> + <p> + “But that one with breaking the stick in the two paper loops was really + interesting,” Fruen went on. “I don't understand that sort of thing + myself, but.... When will the well be done?” + </p> + <p> + “The well is done. We're going to start on the trench tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “And how long will that take to do?” + </p> + <p> + “About a week. Then the man can come and lay the pipes.” + </p> + <p> + “No! really?” + </p> + <p> + I said my thanks and went out. Fruen had a way she had kept, no doubt, + from earlier years; now and again she would glance at one sideways, though + there was nothing the least bit artful in what she said.... + </p> + <p> + Now the woods showed a yellowing leaf here and there, and earth and air + began to smell of autumn. Only the fungus growths were now at their best, + shooting up everywhere, and flourishing fine and thick on woolly stems—milk + mushrooms, and the common sort, and the brown. Here and there a toadstool + thrust up its speckled top, flaming its red all unashamed. A wonderful + thing! Here it is growing on the same spot as the edible sorts, fed by the + same soil, given sun and rain from heaven the same as they; rich and + strong it is, and good to eat, save, only, that it is full of impertinent + muscarin. I once thought of making up a fine old story about the + toadstool, and saying I had read it in a book. + </p> + <p> + It has always been a pleasure to me to watch the flowers and insects in + their struggle to keep alive. When the sun was hot they would come to life + again, and give themselves up for an hour or so to the old delight; the + big, strong flies were just as much alive as in midsummer. There was a + peculiar sort of earth-bug here that I had not seen before—little + yellow things, no bigger than a small-type comma, yet they could jump + several thousand times their own length. Think of the strength of such a + body in proportion to its size! There is a tiny spider here with its + hinder part like a pale yellow pearl. And the pearl is so heavy that the + creature has to clamber up a stalk of grass back downwards. When it comes + upon an obstacle the pearl cannot pass, it simply drops straight down and + starts to climb another. Now, a little pearl-spider like that is not just + a spider and no more. If I hold out a leaf towards it to help it to its + footing on a floor, it fumbles about for a while on the leaf, and thinks + to itself: “H'm, something wrong about this!” and backs away again, + refusing to be in any way entrapped on to a floor.... + </p> + <p> + Some one calls me by name from down in the wood. It is Harald; he has + started a Sunday school with me. He gave me a lesson out of Pontoppidan to + learn, and now I'm to be heard. It is touching to be taught religion now + as I should have taught it myself when I was a child. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX + </h2> + <p> + The well was finished, the trench was dug, and the man had come to lay the + pipes. He chose Grindhusen to help him with the work, and I was set to + cutting a way for the pipes up from the cellar through the two floors of + the house. + </p> + <p> + Fruen came down one day when I was busy in the cellar. I called out to her + to mind the hole in the floor; but she took it very calmly. + </p> + <p> + “There's no hole there now, is there?” she asked, pointing one way. “Or + there?” But at last she missed her footing after all, and slipped down + into the hole where I was. And there we stood. It was not light there + anyway; and for her, coming straight in from the daylight outside, it must + have seemed quite dark. She felt about the edge, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Now, how am I to get up again?” + </p> + <p> + I lifted her up. It was no matter to speak of; she was slight of figure, + for all she had a big girl of her own. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I must say....” She stood shaking the earth from her dress. “One, + two, three, and up!—as neatly as could be.... Look here, I'd like + you to help me with something upstairs one day, will you? I want to move + some things. Only we must wait till a day when my husband's over at the + annexe; he doesn't like my changing things about. How long will it be + before you've finished all there is to do here?” + </p> + <p> + I mentioned a time, a week or thereabout. + </p> + <p> + “And where are you going then?” + </p> + <p> + “To the farm just by. Grindhusen's fixed it up for us to go and dig + potatoes there....” + </p> + <p> + Then came the work in the kitchen; I had to saw through the floor there. + Frøken Elisabeth came in once or twice while I was there; it could hardly + have been otherwise, seeing it was the kitchen. And for all her dislike of + me, she managed to say a word or two, and stand looking at the work a + little. + </p> + <p> + “Only fancy, Oline,” she said to the maid, “when it's all done, and you'll + only have to turn on a tap.” + </p> + <p> + But Oline, who was old, did not look anyways delighted. It was like going + against Providence, she said, to go sending water through a pipe right + into the house. She'd carried all the water she'd a use for these twenty + years; what was she to do now? + </p> + <p> + “Take a rest,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Rest, indeed! We're made to work, I take it, not to rest.” + </p> + <p> + “And sew things against the time you get married,” said Frøken Elisabeth, + with a smile. + </p> + <p> + It was only girlish talk, but I was grateful to her for taking a little + part in the talk with us, and staying there for a while. And heavens, how + I did try to behave, and talk smartly and sensibly, showing off like a + boy. I remember it still. Then suddenly Frøken Elisabeth seemed to + remember it wasn't proper for her to stay out here with us any longer, and + so she went. + </p> + <p> + That evening I went up to the churchyard, as I had done so many times + before, but seeing Frøkenen already there, I turned away, and took myself + off into the woods. And afterwards I thought: now she will surely be + touched by my humility, and think: poor fellow, he showed real delicacy in + that. And the next thing, of course, was to imagine her coming after me. I + would get up from the stone where I was sitting, and give a greeting. Then + she would be a little embarrassed, and say: “I was just going for a walk—it's + such a lovely evening—what are you doing here?” “Just sitting here,” + say I, with innocent eyes, as if my thoughts had been far away. And when + she hears that I was just sitting there in the late of the evening, she + must realize that I am a dreamer and a soul of unknown depth, and then she + falls in love with me.... + </p> + <p> + She was in the churchyard again the following evening, and a thought of + high conceit flew suddenly into my mind: it was myself she came to see! + But, watching her more closely, I saw that she was busy, doing something + about a grave, so it was not me she had come for. I stole away up to the + big ant-heap in the wood and watched the insects as long as I could see; + afterwards, I sat listening to the falling cones and clusters of rowan + berries. I hummed a tune, and whispered to myself and thought; now and + again I had to get up and walk a little to get warm. The hours passed, the + night came on, and I was so in love I walked there bare-headed, letting + myself be stared out of all countenance by the stars. + </p> + <p> + “How's the time?” Grindhusen might ask when I came back to the barn. + </p> + <p> + “Just gone eleven,” I would say, though it might be two or three in the + morning. + </p> + <p> + “Huh! And a nice time to be coming to bed. <i>Fansmagt!</i> Waking folk up + when they've been sleeping decently!” + </p> + <p> + And Grindhusen turns over on the other side, to fall asleep again in a + moment. There was no trouble with Grindhusen. + </p> + <p> + Eyah, it's over-foolish of a man to fall in love when he's getting on in + years. And who was it set out to show there <i>was</i> a way to quiet and + peace of mind? + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X + </h2> + <p> + A man came out for his bricklayer's tools; he wanted them back. What? Then + Grindhusen had not stolen them at all! But it was always the same with + Grindhusen: commonplace, dull, and ordinary, never great in anything, + never a lofty mind. + </p> + <p> + I said: + </p> + <p> + “You, Grindhusen, there's nothing in you but eat and sleep and work. + Here's a man come for those tools now. So you only borrowed them; that's + all you're good for. I wouldn't be you for anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be a fool,” said Grindhusen. + </p> + <p> + He was offended now, but I got him round again, as I had done so many + times before, by pretending I had only spoken in jest. + </p> + <p> + “What are we to do now?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “You'll manage it all right,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Manage it—will I?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, or I am much mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + And Grindhusen was pacified once more. + </p> + <p> + But at the midday rest, when I was cutting his hair, I put him out of + temper once again by suggesting he should wash his head. + </p> + <p> + “A man of your age ought to know better than to talk such stuff,” he said. + </p> + <p> + And Heaven knows but he may have been right. His red thatch of hair was + thick as ever, for all he'd grandchildren of his own.... + </p> + <p> + Now what was coming to that barn of ours? Were spirits about? Who had been + in there one day suddenly and cleaned the place and made all comfortable + and neat? Grindhusen and I had each our own bedplace; I had bought a + couple of rugs, but he turned in every night fully dressed, with all he + stood up in, and curled himself up in the hay all anyhow. And now here + were my two rugs laid neatly, looking for all the world like a bed. I'd + nothing against it; 'twas one of the maids, no doubt, setting to teach me + neat and orderly ways. 'Twas all one to me. + </p> + <p> + I was ready now to start cutting through the floor upstairs, but Fruen + begged me to leave it to next day; her husband would be going over to the + annexe, and that way I shouldn't disturb him. But next morning we had to + put it off again; Frøken Elisabeth was going in to the store to buy no end + of things, and I was to go with her and carry them. + </p> + <p> + “Good,” said I, “I'll come on after.” + </p> + <p> + Strange girl! had she thought to put up with my company on the way? She + said: + </p> + <p> + “But do you think you can find the way alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Surely; I've been there before. It's where we buy our things.” + </p> + <p> + Now, I couldn't well walk through all the village in my working things all + messed up with clay: I put on my best trousers, but kept my blouse on + over. So I walked on behind. It was a couple of miles or more; the last + part of the way I caught sight of Frøken Elisabeth on ahead now and again, + but I took care not to come up close. Once she looked round, and at that I + made myself utterly small, and kept to the fringe of the wood. + </p> + <p> + Frøken Elisabeth stayed behind with some girl friend after she had done + her shopping; I carried the things back to the vicarage, getting in about + noon, and was asked in to dinner in the kitchen. The house seemed + deserted. Harald was away, the maids were wringing clothes, only Oline was + busy in the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + After dinner, I went upstairs, and started sawing in the passage. + </p> + <p> + “Come and lend me a hand here, will you?” said Fruen, walking on in front + of me. + </p> + <p> + We passed by her husband's study and into the bedroom. + </p> + <p> + “I want my bed moved,” said Fruen. “It's too near the stove in winter, and + I can't stand the heat.” + </p> + <p> + We moved the bed over to the window. + </p> + <p> + “It'll be nicer here, don't you think? Cooler,” said she. + </p> + <p> + And, happening to glance at her, I saw she was watching me with that + queer, sideways look.... Ey.... And in a moment I was all flesh and blood + and foolishness. I heard her say: + </p> + <p> + “Are you mad?—Oh no, dear, please ... the door....” + </p> + <p> + Then I heard my name whispered again and again.... + </p> + <p> + I sawed through the floor in the passage, and got everything done. Fruen + was there all the time. She was so eager to talk, to explain, and laughing + and crying all the time. + </p> + <p> + I said: + </p> + <p> + “That picture that was hanging over your bed—wouldn't it be as well + to move that too?” + </p> + <p> + “Ye—es, perhaps it would,” said Fruen. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI + </h2> + <p> + Now all the pipes were laid, and the taps fixed; the water spurted out in + the sink in a fine, powerful jet. Grindhusen had borrowed the tools we + needed from somewhere else, so we could plaster up a few holes left here + and there; a couple of days more, and we had filled in the trench down the + hillside, and our work at the vicarage was done. The priest was pleased + with us; he offered to stick up a notice on the red post saying we were + experts in the business of wells and pipes and water-supply, but, seeing + it was so late in the year, and the frost might set in any time, it + wouldn't have helped us much. We begged him instead to bear us in mind + next spring. + </p> + <p> + Then we went over to the neighbouring farm to dig potatoes, promising to + look in at the vicarage again some time. + </p> + <p> + There were many hands at work on the new place; we divided up into gangs + and were merry enough. But the work would barely last over a week; after + that we should have to shift again. + </p> + <p> + One evening the priest came over and offered to take me on as an outdoor + hand at the vicarage. It was a nice offer, and I thought about it for a + while, but ended by saying no. I would rather wander about and be my own + master, doing such work as I could find here and there, sleeping in the + open, and finding a trifle to wonder at in myself. I had come across a man + here in the potato fields that I might join company with when Grindhusen + was gone. This new man was a fellow after my own mind, and from what I had + heard and seen of him a good worker; Lars Falkberget was his name, + wherefore he called himself Falkenberg. [Footnote: The latter name has a + more distinguished sound than the native and rustic “Falkberget.”] + </p> + <p> + Young Erik was foreman and overseer in charge of the potato diggers, and + carted in the crop. He was a handsome lad of twenty, steady and sound for + his age, and a proper son of the house. There was something no doubt + between him and Frøken Elisabeth from the vicarage, seeing she came over + one day and stood talking with him out in the fields for quite a while. + When she was leaving, she found a few words for me as well, saying Oline + was beginning to get used to the new contrivances of water-pipes and tap. + </p> + <p> + “And yourself?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + Out of politeness, she made some little answer to this also, but I could + see she had no wish to stay talking to me. + </p> + <p> + So prettily dressed she was, with a new light cloak that went so well with + her blue eyes.... + </p> + <p> + Next day Erik met with an accident; his horse bolted, dragging him across + the fields and throwing him up against a fence at last. He was badly + mauled, and spitting blood; a few hours later, when he had come to himself + a little, he was still spitting blood. Falkenberg was now set to drive. + </p> + <p> + I feigned to be distressed at what had happened, and went about silent and + gloomy as the rest, but I did not feel so. I had no hope of Frøken + Elisabeth for myself, indeed; still, I was rid of one that stood above me + in her favour. + </p> + <p> + That evening I went over to the churchyard and sat there a while. If only + she would come, I thought to myself. And after a quarter of an hour she + came. I got up suddenly, entirely as I had planned, made as if to slip + away and hide, then I stopped, stood helplessly and surrendered. But here + all my schemes and plans forsook me, and I was all weakness at having her + so near; I began to speak of something. + </p> + <p> + “Erik—to think it should have happened—and that, + yesterday....” + </p> + <p> + “I know about it,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “He was badly hurt.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, of course, he was badly hurt—why do you talk to me about + him?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought.... No, I don't know. But, anyhow, he'll get better. And then + it will be all right again, surely.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes....” + </p> + <p> + Pause. + </p> + <p> + It sounded as if she had been making fun of me. Then suddenly she said + with a smile: + </p> + <p> + “What a strange fellow you are! What makes you walk all that way to come + and sit here of an evening?” + </p> + <p> + “It's just a little habit I've got lately. For something to do till + bedtime.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you're not afraid?” + </p> + <p> + Her jesting tone gave me courage; I felt myself on surer ground, and + answered: + </p> + <p> + “No, that's just the trouble. I wanted to learn to shiver and shake.” + </p> + <p> + “Learn to shiver and shake? Like the boy in the fairy tale. Now where did + you read about that, I wonder?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. In some book or other, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + Pause. + </p> + <p> + “Why wouldn't you come and work for us when Father asked you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'd be no good at that sort of work. I'm going out on the roads now with + another man.” + </p> + <p> + “Which way are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “That I cannot say. East or west. We are just wanderers.” + </p> + <p> + Pause. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry,” she said. “I mean, I don't think it's wise of you.... Oh, but + what was it you said about Erik? I only came to ask about him....” + </p> + <p> + “He's in a baddish way now, but still.” + </p> + <p> + “Does the doctor think he will get better?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, as far as I know. I've not heard otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Oh to be young and rich and handsome, and famous and learned in + sciences!... There she goes.... + </p> + <p> + Before leaving the churchyard I found a serviceable thumbnail and put it + in my pocket. I waited a little, peering this way and that, and listening, + but all was still. No voice came saying, “That's mine!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII + </h2> + <p> + Falkenberg and I set out. It is evening; cool air and a lofty sky with + stars lighting up. I persuaded him to go round by way of the churchyard; + in my foolishness I wished to go that way, to see if there should be light + in one little window down at the vicarage. Oh to be young and rich and.... + </p> + <p> + We walked some hours, having but little weight to carry, and, moreover, we + were two wanderers still a bit strange each to the other, so we could talk + a little. We passed by the first trading station, and came to another; we + could see the tower of the annexe church in the evening light. + </p> + <p> + From sheer habit I would have gone into the churchyard here as well. I + said: + </p> + <p> + “What do you think? We might find a place here for the night?” + </p> + <p> + “No sense on earth in that,” said Falkenberg, “when there's hay in every + barn along the road. And if we're turned out, there'll be shelter in the + woods.” + </p> + <p> + And we went on again, Falkenberg leading. + </p> + <p> + He was a man of something over thirty. Tall and well-built, but with a + slight stoop; his long moustaches rounded downwards. He was short of + speech for the most, quick-witted and kindly; also he had a splendid voice + for songs; a different sort from Grindhusen in every way. And when he + spoke he used odd words from different local dialects, with a touch of + Swedish here and there; no one could tell what part he came from. + </p> + <p> + We came to a farmstead where the dogs barked, and folk were still about. + Falkenberg asked to see the man. A lad came out. + </p> + <p> + Had he any work for us? + </p> + <p> + No. + </p> + <p> + But the fence there along by the road was all to pieces, if we couldn't + mend that, now? + </p> + <p> + No. Man himself had nothing else to do this time of the year. + </p> + <p> + Could they give us shelter for the night? + </p> + <p> + Very sorry, but.... + </p> + <p> + Not in the barn? + </p> + <p> + No, the girls were still sleeping there. + </p> + <p> + “Swine,” muttered Falkenberg, as we moved away. We turned in through a + little wood, keeping a look out now for a likely place to sleep. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we went back to the farm now to the girls in the barn? Like as + not they wouldn't turn us out.” + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg thought for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “The dogs will make a row,” he said. + </p> + <p> + We came out into a field where two horses were loose. One had a bell at + its neck. + </p> + <p> + “Nice fellow this,” said Falkenberg, “with his horses still out and his + womenfolk still sleeping in the barn. It'd be doing these poor beasts a + good turn to ride them a bit.” + </p> + <p> + He caught the belled horse, stuffed its bell with grass and moss, and got + on its back. My beast was shy, and I had a deal of trouble to get hold of + it. + </p> + <p> + We rode across the field, found a gate, and came out on to the road. We + each had one of my rugs to sit on, but neither had a bridle. + </p> + <p> + Still, we managed well enough, managed excellently well; we rode close on + five miles, and came to another village. Suddenly we heard some one ahead + along the road. + </p> + <p> + “Better take it at a gallop,” said Falkenberg over his shoulder. “Come + along.” + </p> + <p> + But Falkenberg was no marvel of a horseman, for all his leg; he clutched + the bell-strap first, then slithered forward and hung on with both arms + round the horse's neck. I caught a glimpse of one of his legs against the + sky as he fell off. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately, there was no great danger waiting us after all; only a young + couple out sweethearting. + </p> + <p> + Another half-hour's riding, and we were both of us stiff and sore. We got + down, turned the horses' faces to home, and drove them off. And now we + were foot-passengers once more. + </p> + <p> + <i>Gakgak, gakgak</i>—the sound came from somewhere far off. I knew + it well; it was the grey goose. When we were children, we were taught to + clasp our hands and stand quite still, lest we should frighten the grey + goose as it passed. No harm in that; no harm in doing so now. And so I do. + A quiet sense of mystery steals through me; I hold my breath and gaze. + There it comes, the sky trailing behind it like the wake of a ship. <i>Gakgak</i>, + high overhead. And the splendid ploughshare glides along beneath the + stars.... + </p> + <p> + We found a barn at last, at a farmstead where all was still, and there we + slept some hours. They found us next morning sound asleep. + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg went up to the farmer at once and offered to pay for our + lodging. We had come in late the night before, he explained, and didn't + like to wake folk out of their beds, but we were no runaways for all that. + The man would not take our money; instead he gave us coffee in the + kitchen. But he had no work for us; the harvest was in, and he and his lad + had nothing to do themselves now but mend their fences here and there. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII + </h2> + <p> + We tramped three days and found no work, but had to pay for our food and + drink, getting poorer every day. + </p> + <p> + “How much have you got left, and how much have I got left? We'll never get + any great way at this rate,” said Falkenberg. And he threw out a hint that + we'd soon have to try a little stealing. + </p> + <p> + We talked it over a bit, and agreed to wait and see how things turned out. + Food was no difficulty, we could always get hold of a fowl or so at a + pinch. But ready money was the thing we really needed, and that we'd have + to get. If we couldn't manage it one way, we'd have to manage another. We + didn't set up to be angels. + </p> + <p> + “I'm no angel out of heaven alive,” said Falkenberg. “Here am I now, + sitting around in my best clothes, and they no better than another man's + workaday things. I can give them a wash in a stream, and sit and wait till + they're dry; if there's a hole I mend it, and if I chance to earn a bit + extra some day, I can get some more. And that's the end of it.” + </p> + <p> + “But young Erik said you were a beggar to drink.” + </p> + <p> + “That young cock. Drink—well, of course I do. No sense in only + eating.... Let's look about for a place where there's a piano,” said + Falkenberg. + </p> + <p> + I thought to myself: a piano on a place means well-to-do folk; that's + where he is going to start stealing. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon we came to just such a place. Falkenberg had put on my + town clothes beforehand, and given me his sack to carry so he could walk + in easily, with an air. He went straight up to the front steps, and I lost + sight of him for a bit, then he came out again and said yes, he was going + to tune their piano. + </p> + <p> + “Going to <i>what?</i>” + </p> + <p> + “You be quiet,” said Falkenberg. “I've done it before, though I don't go + bragging about it everywhere.” + </p> + <p> + He fished out a piano-tuner's key from his sack, and I saw he was in + earnest. + </p> + <p> + I was ordered to keep near the place while he was tuning. + </p> + <p> + Well, I wandered about to pass the time; every now and then coming round + to the south side of the house, I could hear Falkenberg at work on the + piano in the parlour, and forcibly he dealt with it. He could not strike a + decent chord, but he had a good ear; whenever he screwed up a string, he + was careful to screw it back again exactly where it was before, so the + instrument at any rate was none the worse. + </p> + <p> + I got into talk with one of the farm-hands, a young fellow. He got two + hundred Kroner a year, he said, besides his board. Up at half-past six in + the morning to feed the horses, or half-past five in the busy season. Work + all day, till eight in the evening. But he was healthily content with his + life in that little world. I remember his fine, strong set of teeth, and + his pleasant smile as he spoke of his girl. He had given her a silver ring + with a gold heart on the front. + </p> + <p> + “And what did she say to that?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she was all of a wonder, you may be sure.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “What I said? Why, I don't know. Said I hoped she'd like it and welcome. + I'd like to have given her stuff for a dress as well, but....” + </p> + <p> + “Is she young?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes. Talk away like a little jews' harp. Young—I should think + so.” + </p> + <p> + “And where does she live?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that I won't say. They'd know it all over the village if I did.” + </p> + <p> + And there I stood like another Alexander, so sure of the world, and half + contemptuous of this boy and his poor little life. When we went away, I + gave him one of my rugs; it was too much of a weight to go carrying two. + He said at once he would give it to his girl; she would be glad of a nice + warm rug. + </p> + <p> + And Alexander said: If I were not myself I would be you.... + </p> + <p> + When Falkenberg had finished and came out, he was grown so elegant in his + manners all at once, and talked in such a delicate fashion, I could hardly + understand him. The daughter of the house came out with him. We were to + pass on without delay, he said, to the farm adjacent; there was a piano + there which needed some slight attention. And so <i>“Farvel, Frøken, + Farvel.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Six Kroner, my boy,” he whispered in my ear. “And another six at the next + place, that's twelve.” + </p> + <p> + So off we went, and I carried our things. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV + </h2> + <p> + Falkenberg was right; the people at the next farm would not be outdone by + their neighbours; their piano must be seen to as well. The daughter of the + house was away for the moment, but the work could be done in her absence + as a little surprise for her when she came home. She had often complained + that the piano was so dreadfully out of tune it was impossible to play on + it at all. So now I was left to myself again as before, while Falkenberg + was busy in the parlour. When it got dark he had lights brought in and + went on tuning. He had his supper in there too, and when he had finished, + he came out and asked me for his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “Which pipe?” + </p> + <p> + “You fool! the one with the clenched fist, of course.” + </p> + <p> + Somewhat unwillingly I handed him my neatly carved pipe; I had just got it + finished; with the nail set in and a gold ring, and a long stem. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let the nail get too hot,” I whispered, “or it might curl up.” + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg lit the pipe and went swaggering up with it indoors. But he put + in a word for me too, and got them to give me supper and coffee in the + kitchen. + </p> + <p> + I found a place to sleep in the barn. + </p> + <p> + I woke up in the night, and there was Falkenberg standing close by, and + calling me by name. The full moon shone right in, and I could see his + face. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter now?” + </p> + <p> + “Here's your pipe. Here you are, man, take it.” + </p> + <p> + “Pipe?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your pipe. I won't have the thing about me another minute. Look at + it—the nail's all coming loose.” + </p> + <p> + I took the pipe, and saw the nail had begun to curl away from the wood. + Said Falkenberg: + </p> + <p> + “The beastly thing was looking at me with a sort of nasty grin in the + moonlight. And then when I remembered where you'd got that nail....” + </p> + <p> + Happy Falkenberg! + </p> + <p> + Next morning when we were ready to start off again, the daughter of the + house had come home. We heard her thumping out a waltz on the piano, and a + little after she came out and said: + </p> + <p> + “It's made no end of difference with the piano. Thank you very much.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you may find it satisfactory,” said the piano-tuner grandly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed. There's quite a different tone in it now.” + </p> + <p> + “And is there anywhere else Frøkenen could recommend...?” + </p> + <p> + “Ask the people at Øvrebø; Falkenberg's the name.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>What</i> name?” + </p> + <p> + “Falkenberg. Go straight on from here, and you'll come to a post on the + right-hand side about a mile and a half along. Turn off there and that'll + take you to it.” + </p> + <p> + At that Falkenberg sat down plump at the steps and began asking all sorts + of questions about the Falkenbergs at Øvrebø. Only to think he should come + across his kinsmen here, and find himself, as it were, at home again. He + was profusely grateful for the information. “Thanks most sincerely, + Frøken.” + </p> + <p> + Then we went on our way again, and I carried the things. + </p> + <p> + Once in the wood we sat down to talk over what was to be done. Was it + advisable, after all, for a Falkenberg of the rank of piano-tuner to go + walking up to the Captain at Øvrebø and claim relationship? I was the more + timid, and ended by making Falkenberg himself a little shy of it. On the + other hand, it might be a merry jest. + </p> + <p> + Hadn't he any papers with his name on? Certificates of some sort? + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but for <i>Fan</i>, there's nothing in them except saying I'm a + reliable workman.” + </p> + <p> + We cast about for some way of altering the papers a little, but finally + agreed it could be better to make a new one altogether. We might do one + for unsurpassed proficiency in piano-tuning and put in the Christian name + as Leopold instead of Lars. [Footnote: Again substituting an aristocratic + for a rustic name.] There was no limit to what we could do in that way. + </p> + <p> + “Think that you can write out that certificate?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that I can.” + </p> + <p> + But now that wretched brain of mine began playing tricks, and making the + whole thing ridiculous. A piano-tuner wasn't enough, I thought; no, make + him a mechanical genius, a man who had solved most intricate problems, an + inventor with a factory of his own.... + </p> + <p> + “Then I wouldn't need to go about waving certificates,” said Falkenberg, + and refused to listen any more. No, the whole thing looked like coming to + nothing after all. + </p> + <p> + Downcast and discouraged both, we tramped on till we came to the post. + </p> + <p> + “You're not going up, are you?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “You can go yourself,” said Falkenberg sourly. “Here, take your rags of + things.” + </p> + <p> + But a little way farther on he slackened his pace, and muttered: + </p> + <p> + “It's a wicked shame to throw away a chance like that. Why, it's just cut + out for us as it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, why don't you go up and pay them a call? Who knows, you might + be some relation after all.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I'd thought to ask if he'd a nephew in America.” + </p> + <p> + “What then? Could you talk English to them if he had?” + </p> + <p> + “You mind your own business, and don't talk so much,” said Falkenberg. “I + don't see what you've got to brag about, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + He was nervous and out of temper, and began stepping out. Then suddenly he + stopped and said: + </p> + <p> + “I'll do it. Lend me that pipe of yours again. I won't light it.” + </p> + <p> + We walked up the hill, Falkenberg putting on mighty airs, pointing this + way and that with the pipe and criticizing the place. It annoyed me + somewhat to see him stalking along in that vainglorious fashion while I + carried the load. I said: + </p> + <p> + “Going to be a piano-tuner this time?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I've shown I can tune a piano,” he said shortly. “I am good for + that at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose there's some one in the house knows all about it—Fruen, + for instance—and tries the piano after you've done?” + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg was silent. I could see he was growing doubtful again. Little + by little his lordly gait sank to a slouching walk. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps we'd better not,” he said. “Here, take your pipe. We'll just go + up and simply ask for work.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV + </h2> + <p> + As it happened, there was a chance for us to make ourselves useful the + moment we came on the place. They were getting up a new flagstaff, and + were short of hands. We set to work and got it up in fine style. There was + a crowd of women looking on from the window. + </p> + <p> + Was Captain Falkenberg at home? + </p> + <p> + No. + </p> + <p> + Or Fruen? + </p> + <p> + Fruen came out. She was tall and fair, and friendly as a young foal; and + she answered our greeting in the kindliest way. + </p> + <p> + Had she any work for us now? + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know. I don't think so really, not while my husband's + away.” + </p> + <p> + I had an idea she found it hard to say no, and touched my cap and was + turning away, not to trouble her any more. But she must have found + something strange about Falkenberg, coming up like that wearing decent + clothes, and with a man to carry his things; she looked at him + inquisitively and asked: + </p> + <p> + “What sort of work?” + </p> + <p> + “Any kind of outdoor work,” said Falkenberg. “We can take on hedging and + ditching, bricklayer's work....” + </p> + <p> + “Getting late in the year for that sort,” put in one of the men by the + flagstaff. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose it is,” Fruen agreed. “I don't know.... Anyhow, it's just + dinner-time; if you'd like to go in and get something to eat meanwhile. + Such as it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you kindly,” answered Falkenberg. + </p> + <p> + Now, that seemed to my mind a poor and vulgar way to speak; I felt he + shamed us both in answering so, and it distressed me. So I must put in a + word myself. + </p> + <p> + <i>“Mille grâces, Madame; vous êtes trop aimable</i>,” I said gallantly, + and took off my cap. + </p> + <p> + Fruen turned round and stared at me in astonishment; the look on her face + was comical to see. + </p> + <p> + We were shown into the kitchen and given an excellent meal. Fruen went + indoors. When we had finished, and were starting off, she came out again; + Falkenberg had got back his courage now, and, taking advantage of her + kindness offered to tune the piano. + </p> + <p> + “Can you tune pianos too?” she asked, in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed; I tuned the one on the farm down below.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine's a grand piano, and a good one. I shouldn't like it....” + </p> + <p> + “Fruen can be easy about that.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any sort of....” + </p> + <p> + “I've no certificate, no. It's not my way to ask for such. But Fruen can + come and hear me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps—yes, come this way.” + </p> + <p> + She went into the house, and he followed. I looked through the doorway as + they went in, and saw a room with many pictures on the walls. + </p> + <p> + The maids fussed about in and out of the kitchen, casting curious glances + at me, stranger as I was; one of the girls was quite nice-looking. I was + thankful I had shaved that morning. + </p> + <p> + Some ten minutes passed; Falkenberg had begun. Fruen came out into the + kitchen again and said: + </p> + <p> + “And to think you speak French! It's more than I do.” + </p> + <p> + Now, Heaven be thanked for that. I had no wish to go farther with it + myself. If I had, it would have been mostly hackneyed stuff, about + returning to our muttons and looking for the lady in the case, and the + State, that's me, and so on. + </p> + <p> + “Your friend showed me his papers,” said Fruen. “You seem to be decent + folk. I don't know.... I might telegraph to my husband and ask if he's any + work for you.” + </p> + <p> + I would have thanked her, but could not get a word out for swallowing at + something in my throat. + </p> + <p> + Neurasthenia! + </p> + <p> + Afterwards I went out across the yard and walked about the fields a bit; + all was in good order everywhere, and the crops in under cover. Even the + potato stalks had been carted away though there's many places where + they're left out till the snow comes. I could see nothing for us to do at + all. Evidently these people were well-to-do. + </p> + <p> + When it was getting towards evening, and Falkenberg was still tuning, I + took a bit of something to eat in my pocket and went off for a walk, to be + out of the way so they should not ask me in to supper. There was a moon, + and the stars were out, but I liked best to grope my way into the dense + part of the wood and sit down in the dark. It was more sheltered there, + too. How quiet the earth and air seemed now! The cold is beginning, there + is rime on the ground; now and again a stalk of grass creaks faintly, a + little mouse squeaks, a rook comes soaring over the treetops, then all is + quiet again. Was there ever such fair hair as hers? Surely never. Born a + wonder, from top to toe, her lips a ripened loveliness, and the play of + dragonflies in her hair. If only one could draw out a diadem from a sack + of clothes and give it her. I'll find a pink shell somewhere and carve it + to a thumbnail, and offer her the pipe to give her husband for a present + ... yes.... + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg comes across the yard to meet me, and whispers hurriedly: + </p> + <p> + “She's got an answer from the Captain; he says we can set to work felling + timber in the woods. Are you any good at that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, go inside, into the kitchen. She's been asking for you.” + </p> + <p> + I went in and Fruen said: + </p> + <p> + “I wondered where you'd got to. Sit down and have something to eat. <i>Had</i> + your supper? Where?” + </p> + <p> + “We've food with us in the sack.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there was no need to do that. Won't you have a cup of tea, then? + Nothing?... I've had an answer from my husband. Can you fell trees? Well, + that's all right. Look, here it is: 'Want couple of men felling timber, + Petter will show trees marked.'....” + </p> + <p> + Heaven—she stood there beside me, pointing to the message. And the + scent of a young girl in her breath.... + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI + </h2> + <p> + In the woods. Petter is one of the farm-hands; he showed us the way here. + </p> + <p> + When we talked together, Falkenberg was not by any means so grateful to + Fruen for giving us work. “Nothing to bow and scrape for in that,” he + said. “It's none so easy to get workmen these days.” Falkenberg, by the + way, was nothing out of the ordinary in the woodcutting line, while I'd + had some experience of the work in another part of the world, and so could + take a lead in this at a finish. And he agreed I was to be leader. + </p> + <p> + Just now I began working in my mind on an invention. + </p> + <p> + With the ordinary sort of saw now in use, the men have to lie down + crookedwise on the ground and pull <i>sideways</i>. And that's why there's + not so much gets done in a day, and a deal of ugly stumps left after in + the woods. Now, with a conical transmission apparatus that could be + screwed on to the root, it should be possible to work the saw with a + straight back-and-forward movement, but the blade cutting horizontally all + the time. I set to work designing parts of a machine of this sort. The + thing that puzzled me most was how to get the little touch of pressure on + the blade that's needed. It might be done by means of a spring that could + be wound up by clockwork, or perhaps a weight would do it. The weight + would be easier, but uniform, and, as the saw went deeper, it would be + getting harder all the time, and the same pressure would not do. A steel + spring, on the other hand, would slacken down as the cut grew deeper, and + always give the right amount of pressure. I decided on the spring system. + “You can manage it,” I told myself. And the credit for it would be the + greatest thing in my life. + </p> + <p> + The days passed, one like another; we felled our nine-inch timber, and cut + off twigs and tops. We lived in plenty, taking food and coffee with us + when we started for the woods, and getting a hot meal in the evening when + we came home. Then we washed and tidied ourselves—to be + nicer-mannered than the farm-hands—and sat in the kitchen, with a + big lamp alight, and three girls. Falkenberg had become Emma's sweetheart. + </p> + <p> + And every now and then there would come a wave of music from the piano in + the parlour; sometimes Fruen herself would come out to us with her girlish + youth and her blessed kindly ways. “And how did you get on today?” she + would ask. “Did you meet a bear in the woods?” But one evening she thanked + Falkenberg for doing her piano so nicely. What? did she mean it? + Falkenberg's weather-beaten face grew quite handsome with pleasure; I felt + proud of him when he answered modestly that he thought himself it was a + little better now. + </p> + <p> + Either he had gained by his experience in tuning already, or Fruen was + grateful to him for not having spoiled the grand piano. + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg dressed up in my town clothes every evening. It wouldn't do for + me to take them back now and wear them myself; every one would believe I'd + borrowed them from him. + </p> + <p> + “Let me have Emma, and you can keep the clothes,” I said in jest. + </p> + <p> + “All right, you can take her,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + I began to see then that Falkenberg was growing cooler towards his girl. + Oh, but Falkenberg had fallen in love too, the same as I. What simple boys + we were! + </p> + <p> + “Wonder if she will give us a look in this evening again?” Falkenberg + would say while we were out at work. + </p> + <p> + And I would answer that I didn't care how long the Captain stayed away. + </p> + <p> + “No, you're right,” said Falkenberg. “And I say, if I find he isn't decent + to her, there'll be trouble.” + </p> + <p> + Then one evening Falkenberg gave us a song. And I was proud of him as + ever. Fruen came out, and he had to sing it over again, and another one + after; his fine voice filled the room, and Fruen was delighted, and said + she had never heard anything like it. + </p> + <p> + And then it was I began to be envious. + </p> + <p> + “Have you learnt singing?” asked Fruen. “Can you read music at all?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed,” said Falkenberg. “I used to sing in a club.” + </p> + <p> + Now that was where he should have said: no, worse luck, he'd never + learned, so I thought to myself. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever sung to any one? Has any one ever heard you?” + </p> + <p> + “I've sung at dances and parties now and again. And once at a wedding.” + </p> + <p> + “But I mean for any one that knew: has any one tried your voice?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not that I know of—or yes, I think so, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, won't you sing some more now? Do.” + </p> + <p> + And Falkenberg sang. + </p> + <p> + The end of it'll be he'll be asked right into the parlour one evening, I + thought to myself, with Fruen—to play for him. I said: + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon, but won't the Captain be coming home soon?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, soon,” answered Fruen. “Why do you ask?' + </p> + <p> + “I was only thinking about the work.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you felled all the trees that were marked?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not yet—no, not by a long way. But....” + </p> + <p> + “Oh....” said Fruen suddenly, as if she had just thought of something. + “You must have some money. Yes, of course....” + </p> + <p> + I grasped at that to save myself, and answered: + </p> + <p> + “Thank you very much.” + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you've only to ask, you know. <i>Varsaagod</i>” and she handed me + the money I had asked for. “And what about you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, thank you all the same,” answered Falkenberg. + </p> + <p> + Heavens, how I had lost again—fallen to earth again! And Falkenberg, + that shameless imposter, who sat there playing the man of property who + didn't need anything in advance. I would tear my clothes off him that very + night, and leave him naked. + </p> + <p> + Only, of course, I did nothing of the sort. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII + </h2> + <p> + And two days went by. + </p> + <p> + “If she comes out again this evening,” Falkenberg would say up in the + woods, “I'll sing that one about the poppy. I'd forgotten that.” + </p> + <p> + “You've forgotten Emma, too, haven't you?” I ask. + </p> + <p> + “Emma? Look here, I'll tell you what it is: you're just the same as ever, + that's what you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Ho, am I?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; inside, I mean. You wouldn't mind taking Emma right there, with + Fruen looking on. But I couldn't do that.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a lie!” I answered angrily. “You won't see me tangled up in any + foolery with the girls as long as I am here.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, and I shan't be out at nights with any one after. Think she'll come + this evening? I'd forgotten that one about the poppy till now. Just + listen.” + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg sang the Poppy Song. + </p> + <p> + “You're lucky, being able to sing like that,” I said. “But there's neither + of us'll get her, for all that.” + </p> + <p> + “Get her! Why, whoever thought.... What a fool you are!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, if I were young and rich and handsome, I'd win her all the same,” I + said. + </p> + <p> + “If—and if.... So could I, for the matter of that. But there's the + Captain.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and then there's you. And then there's me. And then there's herself + and everybody else in the world. And we're a couple of brutes to be + talking about her like this at all,” said I, furious now with myself for + my own part. “A nice thing, indeed, for two old woodcutters to speak of + their mistress so.” + </p> + <p> + We grew pale and thin the pair of us, and the wrinkles showed up in + Falkenberg's drawn face; neither of us could eat as we used. And by way of + trying to hide our troubles from each other, I went about talking all + sorts of cheerful nonsense, while Falkenberg bragged loudly at every meal + of how he'd got to eating too much of late, and was getting slack and out + of form. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you don't seem to eat anything at all,” Fruen would say when we came + home with too much left of the food we had taken with us. “Nice + woodcutters, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “It's Falkenberg that won't eat,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Ho, indeed!” said Falkenberg; “I like that. <i>He's</i> given up eating + altogether.” + </p> + <p> + Now and again when she asked us to do her a favour, some little service or + other, we would both hurry to do it; at last we got to bringing in water + and firewood of our own accord. But one day Falkenberg played me a mean + trick: he came home with a bunch of hazel twigs for a carpet-beater, that + Fruen had asked me expressly to cut for her. + </p> + <p> + And he sang every evening now. + </p> + <p> + Then it was I resolved to make Fruen jealous—ey, ey, my good man, + are you mad now, or merely foolish? As if Fruen would ever give it as much + as a thought, whatever you did. + </p> + <p> + But so it was. I would try to make her jealous. + </p> + <p> + Of the three girls on the place, there was only one that could possibly be + used for the experiment, and that was Emma. So I started talking nonsense + to Emma. + </p> + <p> + “Emma, I know of some one that is sighing for you.” + </p> + <p> + “And where did you get to know of that, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “From the stars above.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather hear of it from some one here on earth.” + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you that, too. At first hand.” + </p> + <p> + “It's himself he means,” put in Falkenberg, anxious to keep well out of + it. + </p> + <p> + “Well, and I don't mind saying it is. <i>Paratum cor meum</i>.” + </p> + <p> + But Emma was ungracious, and didn't care to talk to me, for all I was + better at languages than Falkenberg. What—could I not even master + Emma? Well ... I turned proud and silent after that, and went my own ways, + making drawings for that machine of mine and little models. And when + Falkenberg was singing of an evening, and Fruen listening, I went across + to the men's quarters and stayed there with them. Which, of course, was + much more dignified. The only trouble about it was that Petter was ill in + bed, and couldn't stand the noise of ax and hammer, so I had to go outside + every time I'd any heavy piece of work to do. + </p> + <p> + Still, now and again I fancied Fruen might perhaps be sorry, after all, at + missing my company in the kitchen. It looked so, to me. One evening, when + we were at supper, she turned to me and said: + </p> + <p> + “What's that the men were saying about a new machine you're making?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a new kind of saw he's messing about with,” said Falkenberg. “But + it's too heavy to be any good.” + </p> + <p> + I made no answer to that, but craftily preferred to be wronged. Was it not + the fate of all inventors to be so misjudged? Only wait: my time was not + yet come. There were moments when I could hardly keep from bursting out + with a revelation to the girls, of how I was really a man of good family, + led astray by desperation over an unhappy love affair, and now taking to + drink. Alas, yes, man proposes, God disposes.... And then, perhaps, Fruen + herself might come to hear of it.... + </p> + <p> + “I think I'll take to going over with the men in the evenings,” said + Falkenberg, “the same as you.” + </p> + <p> + And I knew well enough why Falkenberg had suddenly taken it into his head + to spend his evenings there; he was not asked to sing now as often as + before; some way or other, he was less in demand of late. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII + </h2> + <p> + The Captain had returned. + </p> + <p> + A big man, with a full beard, came out to us one day while we were at + work, and said: + </p> + <p> + “I'm Captain Falkenberg. Well, lads, how goes it?” + </p> + <p> + We greeted him respectfully, and answered: “Well enough.” + </p> + <p> + Then there was some talk of what we had done and what remained to do. The + Captain was pleased with our work—all clean cut and close to the + root. Then he reckoned out how much we had got through per day, and said + it came to a good average. + </p> + <p> + “Captain's forgetting Sundays.” said I. + </p> + <p> + “That's true,” said he. “Well, that makes it over the average. Had any + trouble at all with the tools? Is the saw all right?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite all right.” + </p> + <p> + “And nobody hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Pause. + </p> + <p> + “You ought by rights to provide your own food,” he said, “but if you would + rather have it the other way, we can square it when we come to settle up.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll be glad to have it as Captain thinks best.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” agreed Falkenberg as well. + </p> + <p> + The Captain took a turn up through the wood and came back again. + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't have better weather,” he said. “No snow to shovel away.” + </p> + <p> + “No, there's no snow—that's true; but a little more frost'd do no + harm.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? Cooler to work in d'you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “That, too, perhaps; yes. But the saw cuts easier when timber's frozen.” + </p> + <p> + “You're an old hand at this work, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And are you the one that sings?” + </p> + <p> + “No, more's the pity. He is the one that sings.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, so you are the singer, are you? We're namesakes, I believe?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, in a way,” said Falkenberg, a little awkwardly, “My name is + Lars Falkenberg, and I've my certificate to show for that.” + </p> + <p> + “What part d'you come from?” + </p> + <p> + “From Trøndelagen.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain went home. He was friendly enough, but spoke in a short, + decisive way, with never a smile or a jesting word. A good face, something + ordinary. + </p> + <p> + From that day onwards Falkenberg never sang but in the men's quarters, or + out in the open; no more singing in the kitchen now the Captain had come + home. Falkenberg was irritable and gloomy; he would swear at times and say + life wasn't worth living these days; a man might as well go and hang + himself and have done with it. But his fit of despair soon came to an end. + One Sunday he went back to the two farms where he had tuned the pianos, + and asked for a recommendation from each. When he came back he showed me + the papers, and said: + </p> + <p> + “They'll do to keep going with for a bit.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you're not going to hang yourself, after all?” + </p> + <p> + “You've better cause to go that way, if you ask me,” said Falkenberg. + </p> + <p> + But I, too, was less despairing now. When the Captain heard about my + machine idea, he wanted to know more about it at once. He saw at the first + glance that my drawings were far from perfect, being made on small pieces + of paper, and without so much as a pair of dividers to work with. He lent + me a set of drawing instruments, and gave me some useful hints about how + such things were done. He, too, was afraid my saw would prove too + cumbersome. “But keep on with it, anyway,” he said. “Get the whole thing + drawn to a definite scale, then we can see.” + </p> + <p> + I realized, however, that a decently constructed model of the thing would + give a better idea of it, and as soon as I was through with the drawings I + set to work carving a model in wood. I had no lathe, and had to whittle + out the two rollers and several wheels and screws by hand. I was working + at this on the Sunday, and so taken up with it I never heard the + dinner-bell. The Captain came out and called, “Dinner!” Then, when he saw + what I was doing, he offered to drive over himself to the smithy the very + next day, and get the parts I needed cut on the lathe. “All you need do is + to give me the measurements,” he said. “And you must want some tools, + surely? Saw and drills; right! Screws, yes, and a fine chisel ... is that + all?” + </p> + <p> + He made a note of the things on the spot. A first-rate man to work under. + </p> + <p> + But in the evening, when I had finished supper and was crossing the + courtyard to the men's room, Fruen called me. She was standing between the + kitchen windows, in the shadow, but slipped forward now. + </p> + <p> + “My husband said ... he ... said ... you can't be warm enough in these + thin clothes,” she said. “And would you ... here, take these.” + </p> + <p> + She bundled a whole suit into my arms. + </p> + <p> + I thanked her, stammering foolishly. I was going to get myself some new + things soon. There was no hurry; I didn't need.... + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I know you can get things yourself. But when your friend is so + ... so ... oh, take these.” + </p> + <p> + And she ran away indoors again, the very fashion of a young girl fearing + to be caught doing something over-kind. I had to call my last thanks after + her. + </p> + <p> + When the Captain came out next evening with my wheels and rollers, I took + the opportunity of thanking him for the clothes. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—er—yes,” he answered. “It was my wife that.... Do they fit + you all right?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; many thanks.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all right, then. Yes; it was my wife that ... well, here are the + things for your machine, and the tools. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed, then, as if the two of them were equally ready to do an act of + kindness. And when it was done, each would lay the blame on the other. + Surely this must be the perfect wedded life, that dreamers dreamed of here + on earth.... + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX + </h2> + <p> + The woods are stripped of leaf now, and the bird sounds are gone; only the + crows rasp out their screeching note at five in the morning, when they + spread out over the fields. We see them, Falkenberg and I, as we go to our + work; the yearling birds, that have not yet learned fear of the world, hop + along the path before our feet. + </p> + <p> + Then we meet the finch, the sparrow of the timbered lands. He has been out + in the woods already, and is coming back now to humankind, that he likes + to live with and study from all sides. Queer little finch. A bird of + passage, really, but his parents have taught him that one <i>can</i> spend + a winter in the north; and now he will teach his children that the north's + the only place to spend the winter in at all. But there is still a touch + of emigrant blood in him, and he remains a wanderer. One day he and his + will gather together and set off for somewhere else, many parishes away, + to study a new collection of humans there—and in the aspen grove + never a finch to be seen. And it may be a whole week before a new flock of + this winged life appears and settles in the same place.... <i>Herregud!</i> + how many a time have I watched the finches in their doings, and found + pleasure in all. + </p> + <p> + One day Falkenberg declares he is all right again now. Going to save up + and put aside a hundred Kroner this winter, out of tuning pianos and + felling trees, and then make up again with Emma. I, too, he suggests, + would be better advised to give over sighing for ladies of high degree, + and go back to my own rank and station. + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg was right. + </p> + <p> + On Saturday evening we stopped work a trifle earlier than usual to go up + and get some things from the store. We wanted shirts, tobacco and wine. + </p> + <p> + While we were in the store I caught sight of a little work-box, ornamented + with shells, of the kind seafaring men used to buy in the old days at + Amsterdam, and bring home to their girls; now the Germans make them by the + thousand. I bought the workbox, with the idea of taking out one of the + shells to serve as a thumbnail for my pipe. + </p> + <p> + “What d'you want with a workbox?” asked Falkenberg. “Is it for Emma, + what?” He grew jealous at the thought, and not to be outdone, he bought a + silk handkerchief to give her himself. + </p> + <p> + On the way back we sampled the wine, and got talking. Falkenberg was still + jealous, so I took out the workbox, chose the shell I wanted, and picked + it off and gave him the box. After that we were friends again. + </p> + <p> + It was getting dark now, and there was no moon. Suddenly we heard the + sound of a concertina from a house up on a hillside; we could see there + was dancing within, from the way the light came and went like a lighthouse + beam. + </p> + <p> + “Let's go up and look,” said Falkenberg. + </p> + <p> + Coming up to the house, we found a little group of lads and girls outside + taking the air. Emma was there as well. + </p> + <p> + “Why, there's Emma!” cried Falkenberg cheerily, not in the least put out + to find she had gone without him. “Emma, here, I've got something for + you!” + </p> + <p> + He reckoned to make all good with a word, but Emma turned away from him + and went indoors. Then, when he moved to go after her, others barred his + way, hinting pretty plainly that he wasn't wanted there. + </p> + <p> + “But Emma is there. Ask her to come out.” + </p> + <p> + “Emma's not coming out. She's here with Markus Shoemaker.” + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg stood there helpless. He had been cold to Emma now for so long + that she had given him up. And, seeing him stand there stupidly agape, + some of the girls began to make game of him: had she left him all alone, + then, and what would he ever do now, poor fellow? + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg set his bottle to his lips and drank before the eyes of all, + then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and passed to the nearest + man. There was a better feeling now towards us; we were good fellows, with + bottles in our pockets, and willing to pass them round; moreover, we were + strangers in the place, and that was always something new. Also, + Falkenberg said many humorous things of Markus Shoemaker, whom he + persisted in calling Lukas. + </p> + <p> + The dance was still going on inside, but none of the girls left us to go + in and join. + </p> + <p> + “I'll bet you now,” said Falkenberg, with a swagger, “that Emma'd be only + too glad to be out here with us.” + </p> + <p> + Helene and Rønnaug and Sara were there; every time they drank, they gave + their hands prettily by way of thanks, as the custom is, but some of the + others that had learned a trifle of town manners said only, “<i>Tak for + Skjænken</i>,” and no more. Helene was to be Falkenberg's girl, it seemed; + he put his arm round her waist and said she was his for tonight. And when + they moved off farther and farther away from the rest of us, none called + to them to come back; we paired off, all of us, after a while, and went + our separate ways into the woods. I went with Sara. + </p> + <p> + When we came out from the wood again, there stood Rønnaug still taking the + air. Strange girl, had she been standing there alone all the time? I took + her hand and talked to her a little, but she only smiled to all I said and + made no answer. We went off towards the wood, and Sara called after us in + the darkness: “Rønnaug, come now and let's go home.” But Rønnaug made no + answer; it was little she said at all. Soft, white as milk, and tall, and + still. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX + </h2> + <p> + The first snow is come; it thaws again at once, but winter is not far off, + and we are nearing the end of our woodcutting now at Øvrebø—another + week or so, perhaps, no more. What then? There was work on the railway + line up on the hills, or perhaps more woodcutting at some other place we + might come to. Falkenberg was for trying the railway. + </p> + <p> + But I couldn't get done with my machine in so short a time. We'd each our + own affairs to take our time; apart from the machine, there was that + thumbnail for the pipe I wanted to finish, and the evenings came out all + too short. As for Falkenberg, he had made it up with Emma again. And that + was a difficult matter and took time. She had been going about with Markus + Shoemaker, 'twas true, but Falkenberg for his part could not deny having + given Helene presents—a silk handkerchief and a work box set with + shells. + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg was troubled, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Everything is wrong, somehow. Nothing but bother and worry and foolery.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, as to that...” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I call it, anyway, if you want to know. She won't come up in + the hills as we said.” + </p> + <p> + “It'll be Markus Shoemaker, then, that's keeping her back?” + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg was gloomily silent. Then, after a pause: + </p> + <p> + “They wouldn't even have me go on singing.” + </p> + <p> + We got to talking of the Captain and his wife. Falkenberg had an + ill-forboding all was not as it might be between them. + </p> + <p> + Gossiping fool! I put in a word: + </p> + <p> + “You'll excuse me, but you don't know what you are talking about.” + </p> + <p> + “Ho!” said he angrily. And, growing more and more excited, he went on: + “Have you ever seen them, now, hanging about after each other? I've never + heard them say so much as a word.” + </p> + <p> + The fool!—the churl! + </p> + <p> + “Don't know what is the matter with you to-day the way you're sawing. Look—what + do you think of that for a cut?” + </p> + <p> + “Me? We're two of us in it, anyway, so there.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Then we'll say it's the thaw. Let's get back to the ax again.” + </p> + <p> + We went on working each by himself for a while, angered and out of humour + both. What was the lie he had dared to say of them, that they never so + much as spoke to each other? But, Heaven, he was right! Falkenberg had a + keen scent for such things. He knew something of men and women. + </p> + <p> + “At any rate, they speak nicely of each other to us,” I said. + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg went on with his work. + </p> + <p> + I thought over the whole thing again. + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps you may be right as far as that goes, that it's not the + wedded life dreamers have dreamed of, still....” + </p> + <p> + But it was no good talking to Falkenberg in that style; he understood + never a word. + </p> + <p> + When we stopped work at noon, I took up the talk again. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you say once if he wasn't decent to her there'd be trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there hasn't been trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I ever say he wasn't decent to her?” said Falkenberg irritably. “No, + but they're sick and wearied of each other—that's what it is. When + one comes in, the other goes out. Whenever he starts talking of anything + out in the kitchen, her eyes go all dead and dull, and she doesn't + listen.” + </p> + <p> + We got to work again with the ax, each thinking his own ways. + </p> + <p> + “I doubt but I'll need to give him a thrashing,” said Falkenberg. + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Lukas....” + </p> + <p> + I got my pipe done, and sent Emma in with it to the Captain. The nail had + turned out fine and natural this time, and with the fine tools I had now, + I was able to cut well down into the thumb and fasten it on the underside, + so that the two little copper pins would not show. I was pleased enough + with the work. + </p> + <p> + The Captain came out while we were at supper that evening, to thank me for + the pipe. At the same time, I noticed that Falkenberg was right; no sooner + had the Captain come out than Fruen went in. + </p> + <p> + The Captain praised my pipe, and asked how I had managed to fix the nail; + he said I was an artist and a master. All the others were standing by and + heard his words—and it counted for something to be called an artist + by the Captain himself. I believe I could have won Emma at that moment. + </p> + <p> + That night I learned to shiver and shake. + </p> + <p> + The corpse of a woman came up to me where I lay in the loft, and stretched + out its left hand to show me: the thumbnail was missing. I shook my head, + to say I had had a thumbnail once, but I had thrown it away, and used a + shell instead. But the corpse stood there all the same, and there I lay, + shivering, cold with fear. Then I managed to say I couldn't help it now; + in God's name, go away! And, Our Father which art in heaven.... The corpse + came straight towards me; I thrust out two clenched fists and gave an icy + shriek—and there I was, crushing Falkenberg flat against the wall. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” cried Falkenberg. “In Heaven's name....” + </p> + <p> + I woke, dripping with sweat, and lay there with open eyes, watching the + corpse as it vanished quite slowly in the dark of the room. + </p> + <p> + “It's the corpse,” I groaned. “Come to ask for her thumbnail.” Falkenberg + sat straight up in bed, wide awake all at once. + </p> + <p> + “I saw her,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Did you see her, too? Did you see her thumb? Ugh!” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't be in your shoes now for anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me lie inside, against the wall,” I begged. + </p> + <p> + “And what about me?” + </p> + <p> + “It won't hurt you; you can lie outside all right.” + </p> + <p> + “And let her come and take me first? Not if I know it.” + </p> + <p> + And at that Falkenberg lay down again and pulled the rug over his eyes. + </p> + <p> + I thought for a moment of going down to sleep with Petter; he was getting + better now, and there was no fear of infection. But I was afraid to go + down the stairs. + </p> + <p> + It was a terrible night. + </p> + <p> + Next morning I searched high and low for the nail, and found it on the + floor at last, among the shavings and sawdust. I took it out and buried it + on the way to the wood. + </p> + <p> + “It's a question if you oughtn't to carry it back where you took it from,” + said Falkenberg. + </p> + <p> + “Why, that's miles away—a whole long journey....” + </p> + <p> + “They won't ask about that if you're called to do it. Maybe she won't care + about having a thumb one place and a thumbnail in another.” + </p> + <p> + But I was brave enough now; a very desperado in the daylight. I laughed at + Falkenberg for his superstition, and told him science had disposed of all + such nonsense long ago. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXI + </h2> + <p> + One evening there came visitors to the place, and as Petter was still + poorly, and the other lad was only a youngster, I had to go and take out + the horses. A lady got out of the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Is any one at home?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + The sound of wheels had brought faces to the windows; lamps were lit in + the rooms and passages. Fruen came out, calling: + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Elisabeth? I'm so glad you've come.” + </p> + <p> + It was Frøken Elisabeth from the vicarage. + </p> + <p> + “Is <i>he</i> here?” she asked in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + It was myself she meant. So she had recognized me.... + </p> + <p> + Next day the two young ladies came out to us in the wood. At first I was + afraid lest some rumour of a certain nightly ride on borrowed horses + should have reached the vicarage, but calmed myself when nothing was said + of it. + </p> + <p> + “The water-pipes are doing nicely,” said Frøken Elisabeth. + </p> + <p> + I was pleased to hear it. + </p> + <p> + “Water-pipes?” said Fruen inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “He laid on a water-supply to the house for us. Pipes in the kitchen and + upstairs as well. Just turn a tap and there it is. You ought to have it + done here.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, though? Could it be done here, do you think?” + </p> + <p> + I answered: yes; it ought to be easy enough. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you speak to my husband about it?” + </p> + <p> + “I did speak of it. He said he would see what Fruen thought about it.” + </p> + <p> + Awkward pause. So he would not speak to her even of a thing that so nearly + concerned herself. I hastened to break the silence, and said at random. + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow, it's too late to start this year; the winter would be on us + before we could get it done. But next spring....” + </p> + <p> + Fruen seemed to come back to attention from somewhere far away. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, I remember now, he did say something about it,” she said. “We + talked it over. But it was too late this year.... Elisabeth, don't you + like watching them felling trees?” + </p> + <p> + We used a rope now and then to guide the tree in its fall. Falkenberg had + just fixed this rope high up, and the tree stood swaying. + </p> + <p> + “What's that for?” + </p> + <p> + “To make it fall the right way,” I began. But Fruen did not care to listen + to me any more; she turned to Falkenberg and put the question to him + directly: + </p> + <p> + “Does it matter which way it falls?” + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg had to answer her. + </p> + <p> + “Why, no, we'll need to guide it a bit, so it doesn't break down too much + of the young growth when it falls.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you notice,” said Fruen to her friend, “what a voice he has? He's the + one that sings.” + </p> + <p> + How I hated myself now for having talked so much, instead of reading her + wish! But at least I would show her that I understood the hint. And, + moreover, it was Frøken Elisabeth and no other I was in love with; she was + not full of changing humours, and was just as pretty as the other—ay, + a thousand times prettier. I would go and take work at her father's + place.... I took care now, whenever Fruen spoke, to look first at + Falkenberg and then at her, keeping back my answer as if fearing to speak + out of my turn. I think, too, she began to feel a little sorry when she + noticed this, for once she said, with a little troubled smile: “Yes, yes, + it was you I asked.” + </p> + <p> + That smile with her words.... Then came a whirl of joy at my heart; I + began swinging the ax with all the strength I had gained from long use, + and made fine deep cuts, I heard only a word now and then of what they + said. + </p> + <p> + “They want me to sing to them this evening,” said Falkenberg, when they + had gone. + </p> + <p> + Evening came. + </p> + <p> + I stood out in the courtyard, talking to the Captain. Three or four days + more, and our work on the timber would be at an end. + </p> + <p> + “And where will you be going then?” asked the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “We were going to get work on the railway.” + </p> + <p> + “I might find you something—to do here,” said the Captain. “I want + the drive down to the high road carried a different way; it's too steep as + it is. Come and see what I mean.” + </p> + <p> + He took me round to the south side of the house, and pointed this way and + that, though it was already dark. + </p> + <p> + “And by the time that's done, and one or two other little things, we shall + be well on to the spring,” he said. “And then there'll be the water, as + you said. And, besides, there's Petter laid up still; we can't get along + like this. I must have another hand to help.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly we heard Falkenberg singing. There was a light in the parlour; + Falkenberg was in there, singing to an accompaniment on the piano. The + music welled out toward us—the man had a remarkable voice—and + made me quiver against my will. + </p> + <p> + The Captain started, and glanced up at the windows. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said suddenly; “I think, after all, we'd better leave the drive + till next spring as well. How soon did you say you'd be through with the + timber?” + </p> + <p> + “Three or four days.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! We'll say three or four days more for that, and then finish for + this year.” + </p> + <p> + A strangely sudden decision. I thought to myself. And aloud I said: + </p> + <p> + “There's no reason why we shouldn't do the road work in winter. It's + better in some ways. There's the blasting, and getting up the loads....” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know ... but ... well, I think I must go in now and listen to + this....” + </p> + <p> + The Captain went indoors. + </p> + <p> + It crossed my mind that he did so out of courtesy, wishing to make + himself, as it were, responsible for having Falkenberg in the parlour. But + I fancied he would rather have stayed talking with me. + </p> + <p> + Which was a coxcomb's thought, and altogether wrong. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXII + </h2> + <p> + I had got the biggest parts of my machine done, and could fix them + together and try it. There was an old stump by the barn-bridge from an + aspen that had been blown down; I fixed my apparatus to that, and found at + once that the saw would cut all right. Aha, now, what have you got to say? + Here's the problem solved! I had bought a huge saw-blade and cut teeth all + down the back; these teeth fitted into a little cogwheel set to take the + friction, and driven forward by the spring. The spring itself I had + fashioned originally from a broad staybusk Emma had given me, but, when I + came to test it; it proved too weak; so I made another from a saw-blade + only six millimetres across, after I had first filed off the teeth. This + new spring, however, was too strong; I had to manage as best I could by + winding it only half-way up, and then, when it ran down, half-way up + again. + </p> + <p> + I knew too little theory, worse luck; it was a case of feeling my way at + every step, and this made it a slow proceeding. The conical gear, for + instance, I found too heavy when I came to put it into practice, and had + to devise a different system altogether. + </p> + <p> + It was on a Sunday that I fixed my apparatus to the stump; the new white + woodwork and the shining saw-blade glittered in the sun. Soon faces + appeared at the windows, and the Captain himself came. He did not answer + my greeting, so intent was he on the machine. + </p> + <p> + “Well, how do you think it will work?”' + </p> + <p> + I set it going. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my soul, I believe it will....” + </p> + <p> + Fruen and Frøken Elisabeth came out, all the maids came out, Falkenberg + came out, and I let them see it work. Aha, what did I say? + </p> + <p> + Said the Captain presently: + </p> + <p> + “Won't it take up too much time, fixing the apparatus to one tree after + another?” + </p> + <p> + “Part of the time will be made up by easier work. No need to keep stopping + for breath.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because the lateral pressure's effected by the spring. It's just that + pressure that makes the hardest work.” + </p> + <p> + “And what about the rest of the time?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to discard this screw-on arrangement and have a clamp instead, + that can be pressed down by the foot. A clamp with teeth to give a better + grip, and adjustable to any sized timber.” + </p> + <p> + I showed him a drawing of this clamp arrangement; I had not had time to + make the thing itself. + </p> + <p> + The Captain took a turn at the saw himself, noticing carefully the amount + of force required. He said: + </p> + <p> + “It's a question whether it won't be too heavy, pulling a saw twice the + width of an ordinary woodcutting saw.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” agreed Falkenberg; “it looks that way.” + </p> + <p> + All looked at Falkenberg, and then at me. It was my turn now. + </p> + <p> + “A single man can push a goods truck with full load on rails,” I said. + “And here there'll be two men to work a saw with the blade running on two + rollers over oiled steel guides. It'll be easier to work than the old type + of saw—a single man could work it, if it came to a pinch.” + </p> + <p> + “It sounds almost impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we shall see.” + </p> + <p> + Frøken Elisabeth asked half in jest: + </p> + <p> + “But tell me—I don't understand these things a bit, you know—why + wouldn't it be better to saw a tree across in the old way?” + </p> + <p> + “He's trying to get rid of the lateral pressure; that's a strain on the + men working,” explained the Captain. “With a saw like this you can, as he + says, make a horizontal cut with the same sort of pressure you would use + for an ordinary saw cutting down vertically. It's simply this: you press + downwards, but the pressure's transmitted sideways. By the way,” he went + on, turning to me, “has it struck you there might be a danger of pressing + down the ends of the blade, and making a convex cut?” + </p> + <p> + “That's obviated in the first place by these rollers under the blade.” + </p> + <p> + “True; that goes for something. And in the second place?” + </p> + <p> + “In the second place, it would be impossible to make a convex cut with + this apparatus even if you wanted to. The blade, you see, has a T-shaped + back; that makes it practically impossible to bend it.” + </p> + <p> + I fancy the Captain put forward some of his objections against his own + conviction. Knowing all he did, he could have answered them himself better + than I. On the other hand, there were points he did not notice, but which + caused me some anxiety. A machine that was to be carried about in the + woods must not be made with delicate mechanism. I was afraid, for + instance, that the two steel guides might be easily injured, and either + broken away, or so bent that the wheels would jam. No; the guides would + have to be dispensed with, and the wheels set under the back of the saw. + Altogether, my machine was far from complete.... + </p> + <p> + The Captain went over to Falkenberg and said: + </p> + <p> + “I want you to drive the ladies tomorrow; they're going some way, and + Petter's not well enough, it seems. Do you think you could?” + </p> + <p> + “Surely,” said Falkenberg; “and welcome.” + </p> + <p> + “Frøkenen's going back to the vicarage,” said the Captain, as he turned to + go. “You'll have to be out by six o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg was in high spirits at this mark of confidence, and jestingly + hinted that I envied him the same. Truth to tell, I did not envy him there + in the least. I was perhaps a little hurt to find my comrade so preferred + before myself, but I would most certainly stay here by myself in the quiet + of the woods than sit on a box and drive in the cold. + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg was thoroughly pleased with himself. + </p> + <p> + “You're looking simply green with envy now,” he said. “You'd better take + something for it. Try a little castor-oil, now, do.” + </p> + <p> + He was busy all the forenoon getting ready for the journey, washing down + the carriage, greasing the wheels, and cleaning the harness after. I + helped him with the work. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe you can drive a pair at all, really,” I said, just to + annoy him. “But I'll give you a bit of a lesson, if you like, before you + start.” + </p> + <p> + “You've got it badly,” he answered. “It's a pity to see a man looking like + that, when a dose of castor-oil would put him right.” + </p> + <p> + It was like that all the time—jesting and merriment from one to the + other. + </p> + <p> + That evening the Captain came out to me. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't want to send you down with the ladies,” he said, “because of + your work. But now Frøken Elisabeth says she wants you to drive, and not + the other man.” + </p> + <p> + “Me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Because she knows you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, as for that, 'twould have been safe enough as it was.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mind going at all?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Then that's settled.” + </p> + <p> + This thought came to my mind at once: “Aha, it's me the ladies fancy, + after all, because I'm an inventor and proprietor of a patent saw, and not + bad looking when I'm properly got up—not bad looking by any means.” + </p> + <p> + But the Captain explained things to Falkenberg in an altogether different + way, that upset my vanity completely: Frøken Elisabeth wanted me to go + down to the vicarage once more, so that her father might have another try + at getting me to take work there. She'd promised him to do so. + </p> + <p> + I thought and thought over this explanation. + </p> + <p> + “But if you get taken on at the vicarage, then it's all off with our + railway work,” said Falkenberg. + </p> + <p> + “I shan't,” said I. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIII + </h2> + <p> + I started early in the morning with the two ladies in a closed carriage. + It was more than a trifle cold at first, and my woollen rug came in very + handy; I used it alternately to put over my knees and wrap round my + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + We drove the way I had walked up with Falkenberg, and I recognized place + after place as we passed. There and there he had tuned the pianos; there + we had heard the grey goose passing.... The sun came up, and it grew + warmer; the hours went by; then, coming to cross-roads, the ladies knocked + at the window and said it was dinner-time. + </p> + <p> + I could see by the sun it was too early for the ladies' dinner-time, + though well enough for me, seeing I took my dinner with Falkenberg at + noon. So I drove on. + </p> + <p> + “Can't you stop?” they cried. + </p> + <p> + “I thought ... you don't generally have dinner till three....” + </p> + <p> + “But we're hungry.” + </p> + <p> + I turned off aside from the road, took out the horses, and fed and watered + them. Had these strange beings set their dinner-time by mine? “<i>Værsaagod</i>!” + </p> + <p> + But I felt I could not well sit down to eat with them, so I remained + standing by the horses. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Fruen. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you kindly,” said I, and waited to be served. They helped me, both + of them, as if they could never give me enough. I drew the corks of the + beer bottles, and was given a liberal share here as well; it was a picnic + by the roadside—a little wayfaring adventure in my life. And Fruen I + dared look at least, for fear she should be hurt. + </p> + <p> + And they talked and jested with each other, and now and again with me, out + of their kindliness, that I might feel at ease. Said Frøken Elisabeth: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I think it's just lovely to have meals out of doors. Don't you?” + </p> + <p> + And here she said <i>De</i>, instead of <i>Du</i>, as she had said before. + </p> + <p> + “It's not so new to him, you know,” said Fruen; “he has his dinner out in + the woods every day.” + </p> + <p> + Eh, but that voice of hers, and her eyes, and the womanly, tender look of + the hand that held the glass towards me.... I might have said something in + turn—have told them this or that of strange things from out in the + wide world, for their amusement; I could have set those ladies right when + they chattered on, all ignorant of the way of riding camels or of harvest + in the vineyards.... + </p> + <p> + I made haste to finish my meal, and moved away. I took the buckets and + went down for more water for the horses, though there was no need. I sat + down by the stream and stayed there. + </p> + <p> + After a little while Fruen called: + </p> + <p> + “You must come and stand by the horses; we are going off to see if we can + find some wild hops or something nice.” + </p> + <p> + But when I came up they decided that the wild hops were over, and there + were no rowan berries left now, nor any richly coloured leaves. + </p> + <p> + “There's nothing in the woods now,” said Frøkenen. And she spoke to me + directly once again: “Well, there's no churchyard here for you to roam + about in.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “You must miss it, I should think.” And then she went on to explain to + Fruen that I was a curious person who wandered about in graveyards by + night and held meetings with the dead. And it was there I invented my + machines and things. + </p> + <p> + By way of saying something, I asked about young Erik. He had been thrown + by a runaway horse and badly hurt.... + </p> + <p> + “He's better now,” said Frøkenen shortly.—“Are you ready to go on + again, Lovise?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed. Can we start?” + </p> + <p> + “Whenever you please,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + And we drove on again. + </p> + <p> + The hours pass, the sun draws lower down the sky, and it is cooler—a + chill in the air; then later wind and wet, half rain, half snow. We passed + the annexe church, a couple of wayside stores, and farm after farm. + </p> + <p> + Then came a knocking on the window of the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Wasn't it here you went riding one night on borrowed horses?” said + Frøkenen laughingly. “Oh, we know all about it, never fear!” + </p> + <p> + And both the ladies were highly amused. + </p> + <p> + I answered on a sudden thought: + </p> + <p> + “And yet your father would have me to take service with him—or + wasn't it so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “While I think of it, Frøken, how did your father know I was working for + Captain Falkenberg? You were surprised yourself to find me there.” + </p> + <p> + She thought quickly, and glanced at Fruen and said: + </p> + <p> + “I wrote home and told them.” + </p> + <p> + Fruen cast down her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Now it seemed to me that the young lady was inventing. But she put in + excellent answers, and tied my tongue. It sounded all so natural; she + writes an ordinary letter to her people at home, and puts in something + like this: “And who do you think is here? The man who did those + water-pipes for us; he's felling timber now for Captain Falkenberg....” + </p> + <p> + But when we reached the vicarage, the new hand was engaged already, and + there at work—had been there three weeks past. He came out to take + the horses. + </p> + <p> + After that, I thought and thought again—why had they chosen me to + drive them down? Perhaps it was meant as a little treat for me, as against + Falkenberg's being asked into the parlour to sing. But surely—didn't + they understand, these people, that I was a man who had nearly finished a + new machine, and would soon have no need of any such trifles! + </p> + <p> + I went about sharp and sullen and ill-pleased with myself, had my meal in + the kitchen, where Oline gave me her blessing for the water-pipes, and + went out to tend my horses. I took my rug and went over to the barn in the + dark.... + </p> + <p> + I woke to find some one touching me. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't lie here, you know; it's simply freezing,” said Præstefruen. + “Come with me, and I'll show you....” + </p> + <p> + We talked of that a little; I was not inclined to move, and at last she + sat down herself instead. A flame she was—nay, a daughter of Nature. + Within her the music of a rapturous dance was playing yet. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIV + </h2> + <p> + Next morning I was more content with things. I had cooled down and turned + sensible—I was resigned. If only I had seen before what was best for + me, I might have taken service here at the vicarage, and been the first of + all equals. Ay, and settle down and taken root in a quiet countryish life. + </p> + <p> + Fru Falkenberg stood out in the courtyard. Her bright figure stood like a + pillar, stood there free and erect in the open courtyard, and her head was + bare. + </p> + <p> + I greeted her Godmorgen. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Godmorgen</i>!” she answered again, and came striding towards me. Then + very quietly she asked: “I wanted to see how they put you up last night, + only I couldn't get away. That is, of course, I got away, but ... you + weren't in the barn, were you?” + </p> + <p> + The last words came to me as if in a dream, and I did not answer. + </p> + <p> + “Well, why don't you answer?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes ... in the barn? Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you? And was it quite all right?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, then ... yes—yes. We shall be going back sometime + to-day.” + </p> + <p> + She turned and walked away, her face all in one great flush.... + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Harald came and asked me to make a kite. + </p> + <p> + “A kite?” I answered all confusedly. “Ay, I'll make you a kite, a huge + one, that'll go right up to the clouds. That I will.” + </p> + <p> + We worked at it for a couple of hours, Harald and I. He was good and + quick, and so innocent in his eagerness; I, for my part, was thinking of + anything but kites. We made a tail several metres long, and busied + ourselves with paste and lashing and binding; twice Frøken Elisabeth came + out to look on. She may have been every bit as sweet and bright as before, + but I cared nothing for what she was, and gave no thought, to her. + </p> + <p> + Then came the order to harness ready to start. I should have obeyed the + order at once, for we had a long drive before us, but, instead, I sent + Harald in to ask if we might wait just half an hour more. And we worked on + till the kite was finished. Next day, when the paste was dry, Harald could + send up his kite and watch it rise, and feel unknown emotion within him, + as I did now. + </p> + <p> + Ready to start. + </p> + <p> + Fruen comes out; all the family are there to see her off. The priest and + his wife both know me again, return my greeting, and say a few words—but + I heard nothing said of my taking service with them now. The priest knew + me again—yes; and his blue-eyed wife looked at me with that sidelong + glance of hers as she knew me again, for all she had known me the night + before as well. + </p> + <p> + Frøken Elisabeth brings out some food for the journey, and wraps her + friend up well. + </p> + <p> + “Sure you'll be warm enough, now?” she asks for the last time. + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure, thanks; it's more than warm enough with all these. <i>Farvel, + Farvel</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “See you drive as nicely as you did yesterday,” says Frøken, with a nod to + me as well. + </p> + <p> + And we drove off. + </p> + <p> + The day was raw and chilly, and I saw at once that Fruen was not warm + enough with her rug. + </p> + <p> + We drive on for hour after hour; the horses know they are on the way home, + and trot without asking. My bare hands stiffen about the reins. As we + neared a cottage a little way from the road, Fruen knocked on the carriage + window to say it was dinner-time. She gets out, and her face was pale with + the cold. + </p> + <p> + “We'll go up there and have dinner,” she says. “Come up as soon as you're + ready, and bring the basket.” + </p> + <p> + And she walked up the hill. + </p> + <p> + It must be because of the cold she chose to eat in a stranger's house, I + thought to myself; she could hardly be afraid of me.... I tied up the + horses and gave them their fodder. It looked like rain, so I put the + oilskins over them, patted them, and went up to the cottage with the + basket. + </p> + <p> + There is only an old woman at home. “Værsaagod!” she says, and “Come in.” + And she goes on tending her coffee-pot. Fruen unpacks the basket, and + says, without looking at me: + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I am to help you again to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, if you will.” + </p> + <p> + We ate in silence, I sitting on a little bench by the door, with my plate + on the seat beside me, Fruen at the table, looking out of the window all + the time, and hardly eating anything at all. Now and again she exchanges a + word with the old woman, or glances at my plate to see if it is empty. The + little place is cramped enough, with but two steps from the window to + where I sit; so we are all sitting together, after all. + </p> + <p> + When the coffee is ready, I have no room for my cup on the end of the + bench, but sit holding it in my hand. Then Fruen turns full-face towards + me calmly, and says with down-cast eyes: + </p> + <p> + “There is room here.” + </p> + <p> + I can hear my own heart beating and I murmur something: + </p> + <p> + “Thanks; it's quite all right. I'd rather....” + </p> + <p> + No doubt but that she is uneasy; she is afraid lest I should say + something. She sits once more looking away, but I can see she is breathing + heavily. Ah, she need have no fear; I would not trouble her with so much + as a word. + </p> + <p> + Now I had to take the empty plate and cup and set them back on the table, + but I feared to startle her in my approach, for she was still sitting with + averted head. I made a little noise with the things to draw her attention, + set them down, and thanked her. + </p> + <p> + She tried to put on a housewifely tone: + </p> + <p> + “Won't you have some more? I'm sure you can't have....” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you very much.... Shall I pack up the things now? But I doubt + if I can.” + </p> + <p> + I happened to glance at my hands; they had swelled up terribly in the warm + room, and were all shapeless and heavy now. I could hardly pack up things + with hands like that. She guessed my thought, looked first at my hands, + then out across the room, and said, with a little smile: + </p> + <p> + “Have you no gloves?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I never wear them.” + </p> + <p> + I went back to my place, waited till she should have packed up the things + so I could carry the basket down. Suddenly she turned her head towards me, + still without looking up, and asked again: + </p> + <p> + “Where do you come from?” + </p> + <p> + “From Nordland.” + </p> + <p> + Pause. + </p> + <p> + I ventured to ask in my turn if Fruen had ever been there. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; when I was a child.” + </p> + <p> + Then she looked at her watch, as if to check me from any more questions, + and at the same time to hint it was getting late. + </p> + <p> + I rose at once and went out to the horses. + </p> + <p> + It was already growing dusk; the sky was darker, and a loose, wet sleet + was beginning to fall. I took my rug down covertly from the box, and hid + it under the front seat inside the carriage; when that was done, I watered + the horses and harnessed up. A little after, Fruen came down the hill. I + went up for the basket, and met her on the way. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “To fetch the basket.” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't trouble, thanks; there's nothing to take back.” + </p> + <p> + We went down to the carriage; she got in, and I made to help her to rights + with the rug she had. Then I pulled out my own from under the front seat, + taking care to keep the border out of sight lest she should recognize it. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a blessing!” cried Fruen. “Why, where was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Under the seat here.” + </p> + <p> + “Well.... Of course, I might have borrowed some more rugs from the + vicarage, but the poor souls would never have got them back again.... + Thanks; I can manage ... no, thank you; I can manage by myself. You can + drive on now.” + </p> + <p> + I closed the carriage door and climbed to my seat. + </p> + <p> + “Now, if she knocks at the window again, it's that rug,” I thought to + myself. “Well, I won't stop....” + </p> + <p> + Hour after hour passed; it was pitch dark now, raining and snowing harder + than ever, and the road growing worse all the time. Now and again I would + jump down from the box and run along beside the horses to keep warm; the + water was pouring from my clothes. + </p> + <p> + We were nearing home now. + </p> + <p> + I was hoping there would not be too much light when we drove up, so that + she recognized the rug. Unfortunately, there were lights in all the + windows, waiting her arrival. + </p> + <p> + In desperation I checked the horses a little before we got to the steps, + and got down to open the carriage door. + </p> + <p> + “But why ... what on earth have you pulled up here for?” + </p> + <p> + “I only thought if perhaps Fruen wouldn't mind getting out here. It's all + mud on ahead ... the wheels....” + </p> + <p> + She must have thought I was trying to entice her into something, Heaven + knows!... + </p> + <p> + “Drive on, man, do!” she said. + </p> + <p> + The horses moved on, and the carriage stopped just where the light was at + its full. + </p> + <p> + Emma came out to receive her mistress. Fruen handed her the rugs all in a + bundle, as she had rolled them up before getting out of the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks,” she said to me, glancing round as she went in. “Heavens, how + dreadfully wet you are!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXV + </h2> + <p> + A curious piece of news awaited me: Falkenberg had taken service with the + Captain as a farm-hand. + </p> + <p> + This upset the plan we had agreed on, and left me alone once more. I could + not understand a word of it all. Anyhow, I could think it over + tomorrow.... By two in the morning I was still lying awake, shivering and + thinking. All those hours I could not get warm; then at last it turned + hot, and I lay there in full fever.... How frightened she had been + yesterday—dared not sit down to eat with me by the roadside, and + never opened her eyes to me once through all the journey.... + </p> + <p> + Coming to my senses for a moment, it occurs to me I might wake Falkenberg + with my tossing about, and perhaps say things in my delirium. That would + never do. I clench my teeth and jump up, get into my clothes again, + scramble down the stairs, and set out over the fields at a run. After a + little my clothes begin to warm me; I make towards the woods, towards the + spot where we had been working; sweat and rain pour down my face. If only + I can find the saw and work the fever out of my body—'tis an old and + tried cure of mine, that. The saw is nowhere to be seen, but I come upon + the ax I had left there Saturday evening, and set to work with that. It is + almost too dark to see at all, but I feel at the cut now and then with my + hands, and bring down several trees. The sweat pours off me now. + </p> + <p> + Then, feeling exhausted enough, I hide the ax in its old place; it is + getting light now, and I set off at a run for home. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you been?” asks Falkenberg. + </p> + <p> + Now, I do not want him to know about my having taken cold the day before, + and perhaps go making talk of it in the kitchen; I simply mutter something + about not knowing quite where I have been. + </p> + <p> + “You've been up to see Rønnaug, I bet,” he said. + </p> + <p> + I answered: yes, I had been with Rønnaug, since he'd guessed it. + </p> + <p> + “'Twas none so hard to guess,” he said. “Anyhow, you won't see me running + after any of them now.” + </p> + <p> + “Going to have Emma, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it looks that way. It's a pity you can't get taken on here, too. + Then you might get one of the others, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + And he went on talking of how I might perhaps have got my pick of the + other girls, but the Captain had no use for me. I wasn't even to go out + tomorrow to the wood.... The words sound far away, reaching me across a + sea of sleep that is rolling towards me. + </p> + <p> + Next morning the fever is gone; I am still a little weak, but make ready + to go out to the wood all the same. + </p> + <p> + “You won't need to put on your woodcutting things again,” says Falkenberg. + “I told you that before.” + </p> + <p> + True! Nevertheless, I put on those things, seeing the others are wet. + Falkenberg is a little awkward with me now, because of breaking our plan; + by way of excuse, he says he thought I was taking work at the vicarage. + </p> + <p> + “So you're not coming up to the hills, then?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “H'm! No, I don't think so—no. And you know yourself, I'm sick of + tramping around. I'll not get a better chance than this.” + </p> + <p> + I make as if it was no great matter to me, and take up a sudden interest + in Petter; worst of all for him, poor fellow, to be turned out and nowhere + to go. + </p> + <p> + “Nowhere to go?” echoes Falkenberg. “When he's lain here the three weeks + he's allowed to stay sick by law, he'll go back home again. His father's a + farmer.” + </p> + <p> + Then Falkenberg declares it's like losing part of himself to have me go. + If it wasn't for Emma, he'd break his word to the Captain after all. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” he says, “I'll give you these.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” + </p> + <p> + “It's the certificates. I shan't want them now, but they may be the saving + of you at a pinch. If you ever wanted to tune a piano, say.” + </p> + <p> + And he hands me the papers and the key. + </p> + <p> + But, seeing I haven't his ear for music, the things are no use to me; and + I tell him so. I could better handle a grindstone than a piano. + </p> + <p> + Whereat Falkenberg burst out laughing, relieved to find me ready with a + jest to the last.... + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg goes out. I have time to laze a little, and lie down all + dressed on the bed, resting and thinking. Well, our work was at an end; we + should have had to go anyhow. I could not reckon on staying here for all + eternity. The only thing outside all calculation was that Falkenberg + should stay. If only it had been me they'd offered his work, I'd have + worked enough for two! Now, was there any chance of buying him off, I + wondered? To tell the truth, I fancied I had noticed something before; as + if the Captain were not altogether pleased to have this labourer about the + place bearing his own name. Well, perhaps I had been wrong. + </p> + <p> + I thought and thought. After all, I had been a good workman, as far as I + knew, and I had never stolen a moment of the Captain's time for work on my + own invention.... + </p> + <p> + I fell asleep again, and wakened at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. + Before I had time to get properly to my feet, there was the Captain + himself in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Don't get up,” he said kindly, and turned as if to go again. “Still, + seeing you're awake, we might settle up. What do you say?” + </p> + <p> + I said it was as he pleased, and many thanks. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to tell you, though, both your friend and I thought you were + going to take service at the vicarage, and so.... And now the weather's + broken up, there's no doing more among the timber—and, besides, + we've got down all there was to come. Well, now; I've settled with the + other man. I don't know if you'd....” + </p> + <p> + I said I would be quite content with the same. + </p> + <p> + “H'm! Your friend and I agreed you ought to have more per day.” + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg had said no word of this to me; it sounded like the Captain's + own idea. + </p> + <p> + “I agreed with him we should share alike,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “But you were sort of foreman; of course, you ought to have fifty øre per + day extra.” + </p> + <p> + I saw my hesitation displeased him, and let him reckon it out as he + pleased. When he gave me the money, I said it was more than I had reckoned + with. The Captain answered: + </p> + <p> + “Very pleased to hear it. And I've written a few lines here that might be + useful, saying you've worked well the time you were here.” + </p> + <p> + He handed me the paper. + </p> + <p> + A just and kindly man, the Captain. He said nothing now about the idea of + laying on water to the house next spring; I took it he'd his reasons for + that, and did not like to trouble him. + </p> + <p> + Then he asked: + </p> + <p> + “So you're going off now to work on the railway?” + </p> + <p> + I said I was not quite sure as to that. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well... anyhow, thanks for the time you've been with us.” + </p> + <p> + He moved towards the door. And I, miserable weakling that I was, could not + hold myself in check, but asked: + </p> + <p> + “You won't be having any work for me later on, perhaps, in the spring?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; we shall see. I ... well, it all depends. If you should + happen to be anywhere near, why.... What about that machine of yours?” + </p> + <p> + I ventured to ask if I might leave it on the place. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said the Captain. + </p> + <p> + When he had gone I sat down on the bed. Well, it was all over now. Ay, so + it was—and Lord have mercy on us all! Nine o'clock; she is up—she + is there in the house I can see from this very window. Well, let me get + away and have done with it. + </p> + <p> + I get out my sack and stow away my things, put on my wet jacket over my + blouse, and am ready to start. But I sit down again. + </p> + <p> + Emma comes in: “<i>Værsaagod</i>; there's something ready for you in the + kitchen.” + </p> + <p> + To my horror she had my rug over one arm. + </p> + <p> + “And Fruen told me to ask if this wasn't your rug.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine? No; I've got mine here with my things.” + </p> + <p> + Emma goes off again with the rug. + </p> + <p> + Well, how could I say it was mine? Devil take the rug!... Should I go down + to the kitchen or not? I might be able to say good-bye and thanks at the + same time—nothing strange in that. + </p> + <p> + Emma came in again with the rug and laid it down neatly folded on a stool. + </p> + <p> + “If you don't hurry up, the coffee'll be cold,” she says. + </p> + <p> + “What did you put that rug there for?” + </p> + <p> + “Fruen told me to.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, perhaps it's Falkenberg's,” I muttered. + </p> + <p> + Emma asks: + </p> + <p> + “Are you going away now for good?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, seeing you won't have anything to do with me.” + </p> + <p> + “You!” says Emma, with a toss of her head. + </p> + <p> + I went down with Emma to the kitchen; sitting at table, I saw the Captain + going out to the woods. Good he was gone—now, perhaps, Fruen might + come out. + </p> + <p> + I finished my meal and got up. Should I go off now, and leave it at that? + Of course; what else? I took leave of the maids, with a jesting word to + each in turn. + </p> + <p> + “I'd have liked to say good-bye to Fruen, too, but....” + </p> + <p> + “Fruen's indoors. I'll....” + </p> + <p> + Emma goes in, and comes back a moment later. + </p> + <p> + “Fruen's lying down with a headache. She sent her very good wishes.” + </p> + <p> + “Come again!” said all the girls as I set off. + </p> + <p> + I walked away out of the place, with my sack under my arm. Then suddenly I + remembered the ax; Falkenberg might not find it where I'd put it. I went + back, knocked at the kitchen door, and left a message for him where it + was. + </p> + <p> + Going down the road, I turned once or twice and looked back towards the + windows of the house. Then all was out of sight. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVI + </h2> + <p> + I circled round all that day, keeping near to Øvrebø; looked in at one or + two farms to ask for work, and wandered on again like an outcast, + aimlessly. It was a chill, unkindly day, and I had need of all my walking + to keep warm. + </p> + <p> + Towards evening I made over to my old working place among the Captain's + timber. I heard no sound of the ax; Falkenberg had gone home. I found the + trees I had felled the night before, and laughed outright at the ghastly + looking stumps I had left. Falkenberg would surely have seen the havoc, + and wondered who could have done it. Possibly he might have set it down to + witchcraft, and fled home accordingly before it got dark. Falkenberg!... + Hahaha! + </p> + <p> + But it was no healthy merriment, I doubt—a thing born of the fever + and the weakness that followed it. And I soon turned sorrowful once more. + Here, on this spot, she had stood one day with that girl friend of hers; + they had come out and talked to us in the woods.... + </p> + <p> + When it was dark enough I started down towards the house. Perhaps I might + sleep in the loft again to-night; then to-morrow, when her headache was + gone, she might come out. I went down near enough to see the lights of the + house, then I turned back. No, perhaps it was too early yet. + </p> + <p> + Then for a time—I should reckon about two hours—I wandered + round and sat down a bit, wandered again and sat down a bit; then I moved + up towards the house again. Now I could perfectly well go up in the loft + and lie down there. As for Falkenberg—miserable worm!—let him + dare to say a word! Now I know what I will do. I will hide my sack in the + woods before I go up, so as to look as if I had only come back for some + little thing I had forgotten. + </p> + <p> + And I go back to the woods. + </p> + <p> + No sooner have I hidden the sack than I realize I am not concerned at all + with Falkenberg and sleeping in the loft. I am a fool and a madman, for + the thing I want is not shelter for the night, but a sight of just one + creature there before I leave the place. And I say to myself: “My good + sir, was it not you that set out to live a quiet life among healthy folk, + to win back your peace of mind?” + </p> + <p> + I pull out my sack from its hiding-place, fling it over my shoulder, and + move towards the house for the third time, keeping well away from the + servants' quarters, and coming round on the south side of the main + building. There is a light in the parlour. + </p> + <p> + And now, although it is dark, I let down the sack from over my shoulder, + not to look like a beggar, and thrust it under my arm as if it were a + parcel. So I steal up cautiously towards the house. When I have got near + enough, I stop, stand there upright and strong before the windows, take + off my cap and stand there still. There is no one to be seen within, not a + shadow. The dining-room is all dark; they have finished their evening + meal. It must be late, I tell myself. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the lamp in the parlour goes out, and the whole house seems dead + and deserted. I wait a little, then a solitary light shines out upstairs. + That must be her room. The light burns for half an hour, perhaps, and then + goes out again. She had gone to rest. Good-night! + </p> + <p> + Good-night for ever! + </p> + <p> + And, of course, I shall not come back to this place in the spring. A + ridiculous idea! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + When I got down on to the high road, I shouldered my sack once more and + set out on my travels.... + </p> + <p> + In the morning I go on again, having slept in a barn where it was terribly + cold, having nothing to wrap round me; moreover, I had to start out again + just at the coldest hour, about daybreak, lest I should be found there. + </p> + <p> + I walk on and on. The woods change from pine to birch and back again. + Coming upon a patch of fine, straight-stemmed juniper, I cut myself a + staff, and sit down at the edge of the wood to trim it. Here and there + among the trees a yellow leaf or so still hangs, but the birches are full + of catkins set with pearly drops. Now and again half, a dozen small birds + swoop down on one of these birches, to peck at the catkins, and then look + about for a stone or a rough tree trunk to rub the gum from their beaks. + Each is jealous of the rest; they watch and chase and drive one another + away, though there are millions of catkins for them to take all they will. + And the one that is chased never does anything but take to flight. If a + little bird comes bearing down towards a bigger one, the bigger one will + move away; even a full-grown thrush offers no resistance to a sparrow, but + simply takes itself off. I fancy it must be the speed of the attack that + does it. + </p> + <p> + The cold and discomfort of the morning gradually disappear; it amuses me + to watch the various things I meet with on my way, and think a little, + idly enough, of every one. The birds were most diverting; also, it was + cheering to reflect that I had my pocket full of money. + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg had chanced to mention that morning where Petter's home was, + and I now made for that. There would hardly be work for me on so small a + place; but now that I was rich, it was not work I sought for first of all. + Petter would be coming home soon, no doubt, and perhaps have some news to + tell. + </p> + <p> + I managed so as to reach the farm in the evening. I said I brought news of + their son, that he was much better now, and would soon be home again. And + could they put me up for the night? + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVII + </h2> + <p> + I have been staying here a couple of days; Petter has come home, but had + nothing to tell. + </p> + <p> + “Is all well at Øvrebø?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, there's nothing wrong that I know of.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you see them all before you left? The Captain, Fruen?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody ill?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Why, who should there be?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Falkenberg said something about he'd hurt his hand. But I suppose + it's all right now, then.” + </p> + <p> + There was little comfort in this home, though they seemed to be quite well + off. Petter's father was deputy to the Storting, and had taken to sitting + reading the papers of an evening. Eh, reading and reading—the whole + house suffered under it, and the daughters were bored to death. When + Petter came home the entire family set to work reckoning out whether he + had gotten his full pay, and if he had lain sick at Øvrebø for the full + time allowed him by law, or “provided by statute,” as his father, the + deputy, put it. Yesterday, when I happened to break a window—a + little pane that cost next to nothing—there was no end of whispering + about it, and unfriendly glances at me from all sides; so today I went up + to the store and bought a new pane, and fixed it in properly with putty. + Then said the deputy: “You needn't have taken all that trouble over a pane + of glass.” + </p> + <p> + To tell the truth, it was not only for that I had been up to the store; I + also bought a couple of bottles of wine, to show I did not care so much + for the price of a pane of glass or so. Also, I bought a sewing-machine, + to give the girls when I went away. We could drink the wine this evening; + tomorrow would be Sunday, and we should all have time to lie abed. But on + Monday morning I would start off again. + </p> + <p> + Things turned out otherwise, however. The two girls had been up in the + loft, sniffing at my sack; both the wine and the sewing-machine had put + fancies into their heads; they imagined all sorts of things, and began + throwing out hints. Wait a bit, thought I to myself; my time will come! + </p> + <p> + In the evening I sit with the family in the parlour, talking. We have just + finished supper, and the master of the house had put on his spectacles to + read the papers. Then some one coughs outside. “There's some one coming + in,” I say. The girls exchange glances and go out. A little after they + open the door and show in two young men. “Come in and sit down,” says the + wife. + </p> + <p> + It struck me just then that these two peasant lads had been invited on the + strength of my wine, and that they were sweethearts with the girls. Smart + young creatures—eighteen, nineteen years old, and already up to + anything. Well, if they reckoned on that wine now, they'd be mistaken! Not + a drop.... + </p> + <p> + There was some talking of the weather; how it was no better than could be + looked for that time of year, but a pity the wet had stopped the + ploughing. There was no sort of life in this talk, and one of the girls + turned to me and said I was very quiet this evening. How could it be? + </p> + <p> + “Maybe because I'm going away,” I answered. “I've a good long way to go + between now and Monday morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Then perhaps we ought to have a parting glass tonight?” + </p> + <p> + There was some giggling at this, as a well-deserved thrust at me for + keeping back the wine that miserly fashion. But I did not know these + girls, and cared nothing for them, otherwise I had acted differently. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” I asked. “I've bought three bottles of wine that I've + to take with me to a certain place.” + </p> + <p> + “And you're going to carry it all that way?” asked the girl, amid much + laughter. “As if there were never a store on the road.” + </p> + <p> + “Frøkenen forgets that it's Sunday tomorrow, and the stores on the road + will be shut,” said I. + </p> + <p> + The laugh died away, but I could see the company was no more kindly + disposed towards me now for speaking straight out. I turned to the wife, + and asked coldly how much I owed her for the time I had stayed. + </p> + <p> + But surely there was no hurry—wouldn't it do tomorrow? + </p> + <p> + I was in a hurry—thank you. I had been there two days—what did + that come to? + </p> + <p> + She thought over it quite a while; at last she went out, and got her + husband to go with her and work it out together. + </p> + <p> + Seeing they stayed so long away, I went up to the loft, packed my sack all + ready, and carried it down into the passage. I proposed to be even more + offended, and start off now—that very night. It would be a good way + of taking leave, as things were. + </p> + <p> + When I came into the room again, Petter said: + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean to say you're starting out tonight?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do.” + </p> + <p> + “You've no call to heed the girls' nonsense, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Herregud</i>, let the old fellow go if he wants to,” said his sister. + </p> + <p> + At last the deputy and his wife came in again, stiffly and stubbornly + silent. + </p> + <p> + Well! And how much did I owe them? + </p> + <p> + H'm! They would leave it to me. + </p> + <p> + They were all alike—a mean and crafty lot; I felt myself stifling, + and picking out the first note that came to hand I flung it at the woman. + </p> + <p> + Was that enough? + </p> + <p> + H'm! A tidy bit, for sure, but still.... And some might say 'twas enough, + but.... + </p> + <p> + How much was it I had given her? + </p> + <p> + A five-Kroner note. + </p> + <p> + Well, perhaps it was barely enough; I felt in my pocket for some more. + </p> + <p> + “No, mother, it was a ten-Kroner,” said Petter. “And that's too much; + you'll have to give him something back.” + </p> + <p> + The old woman opens her hand, looks at the note, and turns so very + surprised all at once. + </p> + <p> + “Why, so it is, ten Kroner, yes.... I didn't properly look. Why, then, + 'tis right enough, and many thanks....” + </p> + <p> + Her husband, in embarrassment, starts talking to the two lads of what he'd + been reading in the paper; nasty accident; hand crushed in a + threshing-machine. The girls pretended not to notice me, but sat like two + cats all the time, with necks drawn in and eyes as thin as knife blades. + Nothing to stay for here—good-bye to them all. + </p> + <p> + The old woman comes out in the passage and tries making up to me. + </p> + <p> + “If only you'd lend us just one of those bottles now,” she says, “'twould + be a real kindness, that it would. With the two lads sitting there and + all.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Farvel</i>,” said I shortly, and would hear no more. + </p> + <p> + I had my sack over my shoulder, and the sewing-machine in one hand; it was + a heavy load, and the muddy road made things no easier. But for all that I + walked with a light heart. It was a miserable business altogether, and I + might as well admit I had acted a trifle meanly. Meanly? Not a bit! I + formed myself into a little committee, and pointed out that those infernal + girls had planned to entertain their sweethearts with my wine. Well and + good; but was not my ill-will towards that idea male selfishness on my + part? If two strange girls had been invited, instead of two young men, + should I not have uncorked the wine without a murmur? Certainly! And then + as to their calling me an old fellow; after all, it was perfectly right. + Old indeed I must be, since I took offence at being set aside in favour of + stray plough-boys.... + </p> + <p> + But my sense of injury cooled down in the course of that hard walking. The + committee meeting was adjourned, and I toiled along hour after hour with + my ridiculous burden—three bottles of wine and a sewing-machine. It + was mild and slightly foggy; I could not see the lights of a farm till + quite close up, and then mostly the dogs would come dashing out on me and + hinder me from stealing into a barn. Later and later it grew; I was tired + and discouraged, and plagued myself too with anxiety about the future. Had + I not already wasted a heap of money on the most useless trash? I must + sell that sewing-machine again now, and get some of it back. + </p> + <p> + At long last I came to a place where there was no dog. There was still a + light in the window, and, without more ado, I walked up and asked shelter + for the night. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVIII + </h2> + <p> + A young girl sat at a table sewing; there was no one else in the room. + When I asked for shelter, she answered brightly and trustingly that she + would see, and went into a little room at the side. I called after her as + she went that I would be glad only to sit here by the stove till daylight. + </p> + <p> + A little after the girl came in again with her mother, who was still + buttoning her clothes about her. <i>Godkvæld!</i> Shelter for the night? + Well, well, there wasn't that room in the place they could make me + properly comfortable, but I'd be welcome to the bedroom, such as it was. + </p> + <p> + And where would they sleep themselves? + </p> + <p> + Why, it was near day now, and the girl'd be sitting up anyhow for a bit + with her sewing. + </p> + <p> + What was she sewing to sit up for all night? A new dress? + </p> + <p> + No, only the skirt. She was to wear it to church in the morning, but + wouldn't hear of her mother helping. + </p> + <p> + I brought up my sewing-machine, and said jestingly that a skirt more or + less was a mere trifle for a thing like this. Wait, and I'd show them. + </p> + <p> + Was I a tailor, then? + </p> + <p> + No. But I sold sewing-machines. + </p> + <p> + I took out the printed directions and studied them to see how it worked. + The girl listened attentively; she was a mere child; her thin fingers were + all blue with the dye from the stuff. There was something so poor-looking + about those blue fingers; I brought out some wine and poured out for all + of us. Then we go on sewing again—I with the printed paper, and the + girl working the machine. She is delighted to see how easily it goes, and + her eyes are all aglow. + </p> + <p> + How old was she? + </p> + <p> + Sixteen. Confirmed last year. + </p> + <p> + And what was her name? + </p> + <p> + Olga. + </p> + <p> + Her mother stands watching us, and would dearly like to try the machine + herself, but every time she comes near, Olga says: “Be careful, mother, + you'll despise it.” And when the spool needs filling, and her mother takes + the shuttle in her hand a moment, the child is once more afraid it may be + “despised.” [Footnote: Foragte, literally “despise.” The word is evidently + to be understood as used in error by the girl herself, in place of some + equivalent of “spoil (destroy),” the author's purpose being to convey an + impression of something touchingly “poor,” as with the dye-stained fingers + earlier and her awkward gait and figure later mentioned. Precisely similar + characteristics are used to the same end in <i>Pan</i>, and elsewhere.] + </p> + <p> + The old woman puts on the coffee-pot, and tends the fire; the room is soon + warm and cosy. The lonely folk are as trusting and kindly as could be. + Olga laughs when I make a little jest about the machine. I noted that + neither of them asked how much the thing cost, though I had told them it + was for sale. They looked on it as hopelessly beyond their reach. But they + could still take a delight in seeing it work. + </p> + <p> + I hinted that Olga really ought to have a machine like that, seeing she'd + got the way of it so neatly all at once. + </p> + <p> + Her mother answered it would have to wait till she'd been out in service + for a bit. + </p> + <p> + Was she going out in service? + </p> + <p> + Why, yes, she hoped so, anyway. Both her other daughters were in service, + and doing well—thank God. Olga would be meeting them at church in + the morning. + </p> + <p> + There was a little cracked mirror hanging on one of the walls, on the + other a few cheap prints had been tacked up—pictures of soldiers on + horseback and royalties with a great deal of finery. One of these pictures + is old and frayed. It is a portrait of the Empress Eugenie, and evidently + not a recent purchase. I asked where it had come from. + </p> + <p> + The good woman did not know. Must be something her husband had bought in + his time. + </p> + <p> + “Did he buy it here?” + </p> + <p> + More likely 'twould have been at Hersæt, where he had been in service as a + young man. Might be thirty years gone now. + </p> + <p> + I have a little plan in my head already, and say: + </p> + <p> + “That picture is worth a deal of money.” + </p> + <p> + The woman thinks I am making game of her, so I make a close inspection of + the picture, and declare emphatically that it is no cheap print—no. + </p> + <p> + But the woman is quite stupid, and simply says: well, did I think so, now? + The thing had hung there ever since the house was built. It was Olga's, by + the way, she had called it hers from the time she was a little one. + </p> + <p> + I put on a knowing, mysterious air, and ask for further details of the + case—where Hersæt might be. + </p> + <p> + Hersæt was in the neighbouring parish, some eight miles away. The Lensmand + lived there.... + </p> + <p> + The coffee is ready, and Olga and I call a halt. There are only the + fastenings to be done now. I ask to see the blouse she is to wear with the + skirt, and it appears that this is not a real blouse at all, but a knitted + kerchief. But she has a left-off jacket that one of her sisters gave her, + and that will go outside and hide all the rest. + </p> + <p> + Olga is growing so fast, I am told, that there's no sense in buying a + blouse for her this twelvemonth to come. + </p> + <p> + Olga sits sewing on hooks and eyes, and that is soon done. Then she turns + so sleepy, it's a sight to see; wherefore I put on an air of authority and + order her to bed. Her mother feels constrained to sit up and keep me + company, though I tell her myself to go back to bed again. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be properly thankful, I'm sure,” says the mother, “to the + strange man for all the way he's helped you.” + </p> + <p> + And Olga comes up to me and gives her hand to thank me, and I turn her + round and shuffle her across to the bedroom door. + </p> + <p> + “You'd better go too,” I say to her mother. “I won't sit talking any more, + for I'm tired myself.” + </p> + <p> + And, seeing I settle down by the stove with my sack under my head, she + shakes her head with a smile and goes off too. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIX + </h2> + <p> + I am happy and comfortable here; it is morning; the sun coming in through + the window, and both Olga and her mother with their hair so smooth and + plastered down, a wonder to see. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast, which I share with the two of them, getting quantities of + coffee with it, Olga gets herself up in her new skirt and her knitted + kerchief and the jacket. Eh, that wonderful jacket; lasting at the edge + all round, and two rows of buttons of the same, and the neck and sleeves + trimmed with braid. But little Olga could not fill it out. Nothing near + it! The child is all odd corners and angles, like a young calf. + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't we just take it in a bit at the sides?” I ask. “There's plenty + of time.” + </p> + <p> + But mother and daughter exchange glances, plainly saying, 'tis Sunday, and + no using needle or knife that day. I understand them well enough, for I + would have thought exactly the same myself in my childhood. So I try to + find a way out by a little free-thinking: 'tis another matter when it's a + machine that does the work; no more than when an innocent cart comes + rumbling down the road, as it may any Sunday. + </p> + <p> + But no; this is beyond them. And anyhow, the jacket must give her room to + grow; in a couple of years it would fit her nicely. + </p> + <p> + I thought about for something I could slip into Olga's hand as she went; + but I've nothing, so I gave her a silver Krone. And straightway she gives + her hand in thanks, and shows the coin to her mother, and whispers she + will give it to her sister at church. Her eyes are simply glowing with joy + at the thought. And her mother, hardly less moved herself, answers yes, + perhaps she ought.... + </p> + <p> + Olga goes off to church in her long jacket; goes shambling down the hill + with her feet turning in and out any odd way. A sweet and heartening thing + to see.... + </p> + <p> + Hersæt now; was that a big place? + </p> + <p> + Yes, a fine big place. + </p> + <p> + I sit for a while blinking sleepy eyes and making excursions in etymology. + Hersæt might mean <i>Herresæte</i>. [Footnote: Manor.] Or possibly some <i>herse</i> + [Footnote: Local chieftain in ancient times.] might have held sway there. + And the <i>herse's</i> daughter was the proudest maiden for far around, + and the Jarl himself comes to ask her hand. And the year after she bears + him a son, who becomes king.... + </p> + <p> + In a word, I would go to Hersæt. Seeing it was all the same where I went, + I would go there. Possibly I might get work at the Lensmand's, or there + was always the chance of something turning up; at any rate, I should see + new people. And having thus decided upon Hersæt, I felt I had a purpose + before me. + </p> + <p> + The good woman gives me leave to lie down on her bed, for I am drowsy and + stupid for lack of sleep. A fine blue spider clambers slowly up the wall, + and I lie watching it till I fall asleep. + </p> + <p> + After a couple of hours I wake suddenly, feeling rested and fresh. The + woman was cooking the dinner. I pack up my sack, pay her for my stay, and + end up by saying I'd like to make an exchange; my sewing-machine for + Olga's picture there. + </p> + <p> + The woman incredulous as ever. + </p> + <p> + Never mind, say I; if she was content, why, so was I. The picture was of + value; I knew what I was doing. + </p> + <p> + I took down the picture from the wall, blew the dust from it, and rolled + it up carefully; the wall showed lighter in a square patch where it had + been. Then I took my leave. + </p> + <p> + The woman followed me out: wouldn't I wait now, till Olga came back, so + she could thank me? Oh, now if I only would! + </p> + <p> + I couldn't. Hadn't time. Tell her from me, if there was anything she + couldn't make out, to look in the directions.... + </p> + <p> + The woman stood looking after me as I went. I swaggered down the road, + whistling with satisfaction at what I had done. Only the sack to carry + now; I was rested, the sun was shining, and the road had dried up a + little. I fell to singing with satisfaction at what I had done. + </p> + <p> + Neurasthenia.... + </p> + <p> + I reached Hersæt the following day. At first I felt like passing by, it + looked so big and fine a place; but after I had talked a bit with one of + the farm-hands, I decided to try the Lensmand after all. I had worked for + rich people before—let me see, there was Captain Falkenberg of + Øvrebø.... + </p> + <p> + The Lensmand was a little, broad-shouldered man, with a long white beard + and dark eyebrows. He talked gruffly, but had kindly eyes; afterwards, I + found he was a merry soul, who could laugh and jest heartily enough at + times. Now and again, too, he would show a touch of pride in his position, + and his wealth, and like to have it recognized. + </p> + <p> + “No, I've no work for you. Where do you come from?” + </p> + <p> + I named some places I had lately passed. + </p> + <p> + “No money, I suppose, and go about begging?” + </p> + <p> + No, I did not beg; I had money enough. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you'll have to go on farther. I've nothing for you to do here; the + ploughing's done. Can you cut staves for a fence? + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “H'm. Well, I don't use wooden fences any more. I've put up wire. Do + bricklayer's work?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a pity. I've had bricklayers at work here for weeks; you might + have got a job. But it's all done now.” + </p> + <p> + He stood poking his stick in the ground. + </p> + <p> + “What made you come to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Every one said go to the Lensmand if I wanted work.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, did they? Well, I've always got a crowd here working at something or + other—those bricklayers, now. Can you put up a fence that's proof + against fowls?—For that's more than any soul on earth ever could, + haha!— + </p> + <p> + “Worked for Captain Falkenberg, you said, at Øvrebø?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “What were you doing there?” + </p> + <p> + “Felling timber.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know him—he lives a long way off. But I've heard of him. + Any papers from him?” + </p> + <p> + I showed him what the Captain had written. + </p> + <p> + “Come along with me,” said the Lensmand abruptly. He led me round the + house and into the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “Give this man a thorough good meal—he's come a long way, and....” + </p> + <p> + I sat down in the big, well-lighted kitchen to the best meal I had had for + a long time. I had just finished when the Lensmand came out again. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, you....” he began. + </p> + <p> + I got up at once and stood straight as an arrow—a piece of + politeness which I fancy was not lost on him. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, finish your meal, go on. Finished? Sure? Well, I've been + thinking.... Come along with me.” + </p> + <p> + He took me out to the woodshed. + </p> + <p> + “You might do a bit of work getting in firewood; what do you say to that? + I've two men on the place, but one of them I shall want for summoners' + work, so you'll have to go woodcutting with the other. You can see there's + plenty of wood here as it is, but it'll take no harm lying here, can't + have too much of that sort of thing. You said you had money; let me see.” + </p> + <p> + I showed him the notes I had. + </p> + <p> + “Good. I'm an official, you see, and have to know my folk. Though I don't + suppose you've anything on your conscience, seeing you come to the + Lensmand, haha! Well, as I said, you can give yourself a rest today, and + start cutting wood tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + I set to work getting ready for the next day, looked to my clothes, filed + the saw, and ground my ax. I had no gloves, but it was hardly weather for + gloves as yet, and there was nothing else I was short of. + </p> + <p> + The Lensmand came out to me several times, and talked in a casual way; it + amused him, perhaps, to talk to a strange wanderer. “Here, Margrethe!” he + called to his wife, as she went across the courtyard; “here's the new man; + I'm going to send him out cutting wood.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXX + </h2> + <p> + We had no special orders, but set to work as we thought best, felling + dry-topped trees, and in the evening the Lensmand said it was right + enough. But he would show us himself the next day. + </p> + <p> + I soon realized that the work here would not last till Christmas. With the + weather we were having, and the ground as it was, frost at night and no + snow, we felled a deal each day, and nothing to hinder the work; the + Lensmand himself though we were devilish smart at felling trees, haha! The + old man was easy to work with; he often came out to us in the woods and + chatted and made jokes, and as I never joked in return, he took me, no + doubt, for a dull dog, but a steady fellow. He began sending me on errands + now, with letters to and from the post. + </p> + <p> + There were no children on the place, no young folk at all save the maids + and one of the farm-hands, so the evenings fell rather long. By way of + passing the time, I got hold of some tin and acids and re-tinned some old + pots and kettles in the kitchen. But that was soon done. And then one + evening I came to write the following letter: + </p> + <p> + “<i>If only I were where you are, I would work for two</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Next day I had to go to the post for the Lensmand; I took my letter with + me and posted it. I was very uneasy. Moreover, the letter looked clumsy as + I sent it, for I had got the paper from the Lensmand, and had to paste a + whole strip of stamps along the envelope to cover where his name was + printed on. I wondered what she would say when she got it. There was no + name, nor any place given in the letter. + </p> + <p> + And so we work in the woods, the other man and I, talk of our little + affairs, working with heart and soul, and getting on well together. The + days passed; already, worse luck, I could see the end of our work ahead, + but I had a little hope the Lensmand might find something else for me to + do when the woodcutting was finished. Something would surely turn up. I + had no wish to set out wandering anew before Christmas. + </p> + <p> + Then one day I go to the post again, and there is a letter for me. I + cannot understand that it is for me, and I stand turning and twisting it + confusedly; but the man knows me now; he reads from the envelope again and + says yes, it is my name right enough, and care of the Lensmand. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a thought strikes me, and I grasp the letter. Yes, it is for me; + I forgot ... yes, of course.... + </p> + <p> + And I hurry out into the road, with something ringing in my ears all the + time, and open the letter, and read: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Skriv ikke til mig</i>—” [Footnote: “Do not write (skrive) to + me.”] + </p> + <p> + No name, no place, but so clear and lovely. The first word was underlined. + </p> + <p> + I do not know how I got home. I remember I sat on a stone by the roadside + and read the letter and put it in my pocket, and walked on till I came to + another stone and did the same again. <i>Skriv ikke</i>. But—did + that mean I might come and perhaps speak with her? That little, dainty + piece of paper, and the swift, delicate characters. Her hands had held it, + her eyes had looked on it, her breath had touched it. And then at the end + a dash. Which might have a world of meaning. + </p> + <p> + I came home, handed in the Lensmand's post, and went out into the wood. I + was dreaming all the time. My comrade, no doubt, must have found me an + incomprehensible man, seeing me read a letter again and again, and put it + back with my money. + </p> + <p> + How splendid of her to have found me! She must have held the envelope up + to the light, no doubt, and read the Lensmand's name under the stamps; + then laid her beautiful head on one side and half closed her eyes and + thought for a moment: he is working for the Lensmand at Hersæt now.... + </p> + <p> + That evening, when we were back home, the Lensmand came out and talked to + us of this and that, and asked: + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you say you'd been working for Captain Falkenberg at Øvrebø?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I see he's invented a machine.” + </p> + <p> + “A machine?” + </p> + <p> + “A patent saw for timber work. It's in the papers.” + </p> + <p> + I started at this. Surely he hadn't invented my patent saw? + </p> + <p> + “There must be some mistake,” I said. “It wasn't the Captain who invented + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “No it wasn't. But the saw was left with him.” + </p> + <p> + And I told the Lensmand all about it. He went in to fetch the paper, and + we both read what it said: “New Invention.... Our Correspondent on the + spot.... Of great importance to owners of timber lands.... Principle of + the mechanism is as follows:...” + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean to say it's your invention?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is.” + </p> + <p> + “And the Captain is trying to steal it? Why, this'll be a pretty case, a + mighty pretty case. Leave it to me. Did any one see you working on the + thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, all his people on the place did.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord save me if it's not the stiffest bit of business I've heard for a + long time. Walk off with another man's invention! And the money, too ... + why, it might bring you in a million!” + </p> + <p> + I was obliged to confess I could not understand the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you? Haha, but I do! I've not been Lensmand all this time far + nothing. No; I've had my suspicions that he wasn't so rich as he + pretended. Well, I'll send him a bit of a letter from me, just a line or + so—what do you say to that? Hahaha! You leave it to me.” + </p> + <p> + But at this I began to feel uneasy. The Lensmand was too violent all at + once; it might well be that the Captain was not to blame in the matter at + all, and that the newspaper man had made the mistake himself. I begged the + Lensmand to let me write myself. + </p> + <p> + “And agree to divide the proceeds with that rascal? Never! You leave the + whole thing in my hands. And, anyhow, if you were to write yourself, you + couldn't set it out properly the way I can.” + </p> + <p> + But I worked on him until at last he agreed that I should write the first + letter, and then he should take it up after. I got some of the Lensmand's + paper again. + </p> + <p> + I got no writing done that evening; it had been an exciting day, and my + mind was all in a turmoil still. I thought and reckoned it out; for + Fruen's sake I would not write directly to the Captain, and risk causing + her unpleasantness as well; no, I would send a line to my comrade, Lars + Falkenberg, to keep an eye on the machine. + </p> + <p> + That night I had another visit from the corpse—that miserable old + woman in her night-shift, that would not leave me in peace on account of + her thumbnail. I had had a long spell of emotion the day before, so this + night she took care to come. Frozen with horror, I saw her come gliding + in, stop in the middle of the room, and stretch out her hand. Over against + the other wall lay my fellow-woodcutter in his bed, and it was a strange + relief to me to hear that he too lay groaning and moving restlessly; at + any rate there were two of us to share the danger. I shook my head, to say + I had buried the nail in a peaceful spot, and could do no more. But the + corpse stood there still. I begged her pardon; but then, suddenly, I was + seized with a feeling of annoyance; I grew angry, and told her straight + out I'd have no more of her nonsense. I'd borrowed that nail of hers at a + pinch, but I'd done all I could do months ago, and buried it again.... At + that she came gliding sideways over to my pillow, trying to get behind me. + I flung myself up in bed and gave a shriek. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” asked the lad from the other bed. + </p> + <p> + I rub my eyes and answer I'd been dreaming, that was all. + </p> + <p> + “Who was it came in just now?” asks the boy. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. Was there any one in here?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw some one going...” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXI + </h2> + <p> + After a couple of days, I set myself down calmly and loftily to write to + Falkenberg. I had a bit of a saw thing I'd left there at Øvrebø, I wrote; + it might be a useful thing for owners of timber lands some day, and I + proposed to come along and fetch it away shortly. Please keep an eye on it + and see it doesn't get damaged. + </p> + <p> + Yes, I wrote in that gentle style. That was the most dignified way. And + since Falkenberg, of course, would mention it in the kitchen, and perhaps + show the letter round, it had to be delicacy itself. But it was not all + delicacy and nothing else; I fixed a definite date, to make it serious: I + will come for the machine on Monday, 11th December. + </p> + <p> + I thought to myself: there, that's clear and sound; if the machine's not + there that Monday, why, then, something will happen. + </p> + <p> + I took the letter to the post myself, and stuck a strip of stamps across + the envelope as before.... + </p> + <p> + My beautiful ecstasy was still on me. I had received the loveliest letter + in the world; here it was in my breast pocket; it was to me. <i>Skriv ikke</i>. + No, indeed, but I could come. And then a dash at the end. + </p> + <p> + There wasn't anything wrong, by any chance, about that underlining the + word: as, for instance, meaning to emphasize the whole thing as an order? + Ladies were always so fond of underlining all sorts of words, and putting + in dashes here, there, and everywhere. But not she; no, not she! + </p> + <p> + A few days more, and the work at the Lensmand's would be at an end; it + fitted in very well, everything worked out nicely; on the 11th I was to be + at Øvrebø. And that perhaps not a minute too soon. If the Captain really + had any idea of his own about my machine, it would be necessary to act at + once. Was a stranger to come stealing my hard-earned million? Hadn't I + toiled for it? I almost began to regret the gentleness of my letter to + Falkenberg; I might have made it a good deal sharper; now, perhaps, he + would imagine I was too soft to stand up for myself. Why, he might even + take it into his head to bear witness against me, and say I hadn't + invented the machine at all! Hoho, Master Falkenberg, just try it on! In + the first place, 'twill cost you your eternal salvation; and if that's not + enough, I'll have you up for perjury before my friend and patron, the + Lensmand. And you know what that'll mean. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you must go,” said the Lensmand when I spoke to him about it. + “And just come back here to me with your machine. You must look after your + interests, of course; it may be a question of something considerable.” + </p> + <p> + The following day's post brought a piece of news that changed the + situation in a moment; there was a letter from Captain Falkenberg himself + in the paper, saying it was due to a misunderstanding that the new timber + saw had been stated as being of his invention. The apparatus had been + designed by a man who had worked on his estate some time back. As to its + value, he would not express any opinion.—Captain Falkenberg. + </p> + <p> + The Lensmand and I looked at each other. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you say now?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “That the Captain, at any rate, is innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “Ho! D'you know what I think?” + </p> + <p> + Pause. The Lensmand playing Lensmand from top to toe, unravelling schemes + and plots. + </p> + <p> + “He is not innocent,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Really?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I've seen that sort of thing before. Drawing in his horns, that's + all. Your letter put him on his guard. Haha!” + </p> + <p> + At this I had to confess to the Lensmand that I had not written to the + Captain at all but had merely sent a bit of a note to one of the hands at + Øvrebø; and even that letter could not have reached there yet, seeing it + was only posted the night before. + </p> + <p> + This left the Lensmand dumb, and he gave up unravelling things. On the + other hand, he seemed from now onward to be greatly in doubt as to whether + the whole thing had any value at all. + </p> + <p> + “Quite likely the machine's no good at all,” he said. But then he added + kindly: “I mean, it may need touching up a bit, and improving. You've seen + yourself how they're always altering things like warships and + flying-machines. Are you still determined to go?” + </p> + <p> + No more was said about my coming back here and bringing the machine with + me. But the Lensmand wrote me a very nice recommendation. He would gladly + have kept me on longer, it said, but the work was interrupted by private + affairs of my own elsewhere.... + </p> + <p> + In the morning, when I was ready to start, a little girl stood in the + courtyard waiting for me to come out. It was Olga. Was there ever such a + child? She must have been afoot since midnight to get here so early. And + there she stood in her blue skirt and her jacket. + </p> + <p> + “That you, Olga? Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + She had come to see me. + </p> + <p> + How did she know I was here? + </p> + <p> + She had asked about me and found out where I was. And please was it true + she was to keep the sewing-machine? But of course it couldn't.... + </p> + <p> + Yes, the machine was hers all right; hadn't I taken her picture in + exchange? Did it work all right? + </p> + <p> + Yes, it worked all right. + </p> + <p> + We did not talk much together; I wanted to get her away before the + Lensmand came out and began asking questions. + </p> + <p> + “Well, run along home now, child; you've a long way to go.” + </p> + <p> + Olga gives me her hand—it is swallowed up completely in mine, and + she lets it lie there as long as I will. Then she thanks me, and shambles + gaily off again. And her toes turning in and out all odd ways. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXII + </h2> + <p> + I am nearly at my goal. + </p> + <p> + Sunday evening I lay in a watchman's hut not far from Øvrebø, so as to be + on the place early Monday morning. By nine o'clock every one would be up, + then surely I must be lucky enough to meet the one I sought. + </p> + <p> + I had grown dreadfully nervous, and kept imagining ugly things. I had + written a nice letter to Falkenberg, using no sharp words, but the Captain + might after all have been offended at my fixing the date like that; giving + him so and so much time.... If only I had never written at all! + </p> + <p> + Coming up towards the house I stoop more and more, and make myself small, + though indeed I had done no wrong. I turn off from the road up, and go + round so as to reach the outbuildings first—and there I come upon + Falkenberg. He is washing down the carriage. We gave each other greeting, + and were the same good comrades as before. + </p> + <p> + Was he going out with the carriage? + </p> + <p> + No, just come back the night before. Been to the railway station. + </p> + <p> + Who had gone away, then? + </p> + <p> + Fruen. + </p> + <p> + Fruen? + </p> + <p> + Fruen, yes. + </p> + <p> + Pause. + </p> + <p> + Really? And where was Fruen gone to? + </p> + <p> + Gone to stay in town for a bit. + </p> + <p> + Pause. + </p> + <p> + “Stranger man's been here writing in the papers about that machine of + yours,” says Falkenberg. + </p> + <p> + “Is the Captain gone away too?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Captain's at home. You should have seen his face when your letter + came.” + </p> + <p> + I got Falkenberg to come up to the old loft. I had still two bottles of + wine in my sack, and I took them out and we started on them together; eh, + those bottles that I had carried backward and forward, mile after mile, + and had to be so careful with, they served me well just now. Save for them + Falkenberg would never have said so much. + </p> + <p> + “What was that about the Captain and my letter? Did he see it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it began like this,” said Falkenberg. “Fruen was in the kitchen + when I came in with the post. 'What letter's that with all those stamps + on?' she says. I opened it, and said it was from you, to say you were + coming on the 11th.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did she say?” + </p> + <p> + “She didn't say any more. Yes, she asked once again, 'Coming on the 11th, + is he?' And I said yes, he was.” + </p> + <p> + “And then, a couple of days after, you got orders to drive her to the + station?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, it must have been about a couple of days. Well, then, I + thought, if Fruen knows about the letter, then Captain surely knows too. + D'you know what he said when I brought it in?” + </p> + <p> + I made no answer to this, but thought and thought. There must be something + behind all this. Was she running away from me? Madman! the Captain's Lady + at Øvrebø would not run away from one of her labourers. But the whole + thing seemed so strange. I had hoped all along she would give me leave to + speak with her, since I was forbidden to write. + </p> + <p> + Falkenberg went on, a little awkwardly: + </p> + <p> + “Well, I showed the Captain your letter, though you didn't say I was to. + Was there any harm in that?” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't matter. What did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “'Yes, look after the machine, do,' he said, and made a face. 'In case any + one comes to steal it,' he said.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the Captain's angry with me now?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, I shouldn't think so. I've heard no more about it since that day.” + </p> + <p> + It mattered little after all about the Captain. When Falkenberg had taken + a deal of wine, I asked him if he knew where Fruen was staying in town. + No, but Emma might, perhaps. We get hold of Emma, treat her to wine, talk + a lot of nonsense, and work gradually round to the point; at last asking + in a delicate way. No, Emma didn't know the address. But Fruen had gone to + buy things for Christmas, and she was going with Frøken Elisabeth from the + vicarage, so they'd know the address there. What did I want it for, by the + way? + </p> + <p> + Well, it was only about a filigree brooch I had got hold of, and wanted to + ask if she'd care to buy it. + </p> + <p> + “Let's look.” + </p> + <p> + Luckily I was able to show her the brooch; it was a beautiful piece of old + work; I had bought it of one of the maids at Hersæt. + </p> + <p> + “Fruen wouldn't have it,” said Emma. “I wouldn't have it myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if you got me into the bargain, Emma, what?” And I forced myself to + jest again. + </p> + <p> + Emma goes off. I try drawing out Falkenberg again. Falkenberg was sharp + enough at times to understand people. + </p> + <p> + Did he still sing for Fruen? + </p> + <p> + Lord, no; that was all over. Falkenberg wished he hadn't taken service + here at all; 'twas nothing but trouble and misery about the place. + </p> + <p> + Trouble and misery? Weren't they friends, then, the Captain and his Lady? + </p> + <p> + Oh yes, they were friends. In the same old way. Last Saturday she had been + crying all day. + </p> + <p> + “Funny thing it should be like that,” say I, “when they're so upright and + considerate towards each other.” And I watch to see what Falkenberg says + to that. + </p> + <p> + “Eh, but they're ever weary,” says Falkenberg in his Valdres dialect. “And + she's losing her looks too. Only in the time you've been gone, she's got + all pale and thin.” + </p> + <p> + I sat up in the loft for a couple of hours, keeping an eye on the main + building from my window, but the Captain did not appear. Why didn't he go + out? It was hopeless to wait any longer; I should have to go without + making my excuses to the Captain. I could have found good grounds enough; + I might have put the blame on to the first article in the paper, and said + it had rather turned my head for the moment—and there was some truth + in that. Well, all I had to do now was to tie up the machine in a bundle, + cover it up as far as possible with my sack, and start off on my + wanderings again. + </p> + <p> + Emma stole some food for me before I went. + </p> + <p> + It was another long journey this time; first to the vicarage—though + that was but a little out of the way—and then on to the railway + station. A little snow was falling, which made it rather heavy walking; + and what was more, I could not take it easy now, but must get on as fast + as I could. The ladies were only staying in town for their Christmas + shopping, and they had a good start already. + </p> + <p> + On the following afternoon I came to the vicarage. I had reckoned out it + would be best to speak with Fruen. + </p> + <p> + “I'm on my way into town,” I told her. “And I've this machine thing with + me; if I might leave the heaviest of the woodwork here meanwhile?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going into town?” says Fruen. “But you'll stay here till + tomorrow, surely?” + </p> + <p> + “No, thanks all the same. I've got to be in town tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + Fruen thinks for a bit and then says: + </p> + <p> + “Elisabeth's in town. You might take a parcel in for her—something + she's forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + That gives me the address! I thought to myself. + </p> + <p> + “But I've got to get it ready first.” + </p> + <p> + “Then Frøken Elisabeth might be gone again before I got there?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, she's with Fru Falkenberg, and they're staying in town for the + week.” + </p> + <p> + This was grand news, joyous news. Now I had both the address and the time. + </p> + <p> + Fruen stands watching me sideways, and says: + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you'll stay the night, won't you? You see, it's something + I've got to get ready first....” + </p> + <p> + I was given a room in the main building, because it was too cold to sleep + in the barn. And when all the household had gone to rest that night, and + everything was quiet, came Fruen to my room with the parcel, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Excuse my coming so late. But I thought you might be going early + to-morrow morning before I was up.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXIII + </h2> + <p> + So here I am once more in the crush and noise of a city, with its + newspapers and people. I have been away from all this for many months now, + and find it not unpleasant. I spend a morning taking it all in; get hold + of some other clothes, and set off to find Frøken Elisabeth at her + address. She was staying with some relatives. + </p> + <p> + And now—should I be lucky enough to meet the other one? I am + restless as a boy. My hands are vulgarly unused to gloves, and I pull them + off; then going up the step I notice that my hands do not go at all well + with the clothes I am wearing, and I put on my gloves again. Then I ring + the bell. + </p> + <p> + “Frøken Elisabeth? Yes, would you wait a moment?” + </p> + <p> + Frøken Elisabeth comes out. “<i>Goddag</i>. You wished to speak to.... Oh, + is it you?” + </p> + <p> + I had brought a parcel from her mother. <i>Værsaagod</i>. + </p> + <p> + She tears open the parcel and looks inside. “Oh, fancy Mama thinking of + that. The opera-glasses! We've been to the theatre already.... I didn't + recognize you at first.” + </p> + <p> + “Really! It's not so very long since....” + </p> + <p> + “No, but.... Tell me, isn't there any one else you'd like to inquire + about? Haha!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Well, she's not here. I'm only staying here with my relations. No, she's + at the Victoria.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the parcel was for you,” said I, trying to master my + disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute. I was just going out again; we can go together.” + </p> + <p> + Frøken Elisabeth puts on some over-things, calls out through a door to say + she won't be very long, and goes out with me. We take a cab and drive to a + quiet café. Frøken Elisabeth says yes, she loves going to cafés. But + there's nothing very amusing about this one. + </p> + <p> + Would she rather go somewhere else? + </p> + <p> + “Yes. To the Grand.” + </p> + <p> + I hesitated; it might be hardly safe. I had been away for a long time now, + and if we met any one I knew I might have to talk to them. But Frøkenen + insisted on Grand. She had had but a few days' practice in the capital, + and had already gained a deal of self-assurance. But I liked her so much + before. + </p> + <p> + We drove off again to Grand. It was getting towards evening. Frøkenen + picks out a seat right in the brightest spot, beaming all over herself at + the fun of it. I ordered some wine. + </p> + <p> + “What fine clothes you're wearing now,” she says, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't very well come in here in a workman's blouse.” + </p> + <p> + “No, of course not. But, honestly, that blouse ... shall I tell you what I + think?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, do.” + </p> + <p> + “The blouse suited you better.” + </p> + <p> + There! Devil take these town clothes! I sat there with my head full of + other things, and did not care for this sort of talk. + </p> + <p> + “Are you staying long in town?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “As long as Lovise does. We've finished our shopping. No, I'm sorry; it's + all too short.” Then she turns gay once more, and asks laughingly: “Did + you like being with us out in the country?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. That was a pleasant time.” + </p> + <p> + “And will you come again soon? Haha!” + </p> + <p> + She seemed to be making fun of me. Trying, of course, to show she saw + through me: that I hadn't played—my part well enough as a country + labourer. Child that she was! I could teach many a labourer his business, + and had more than one trade at my finger-ends. Though in my true calling I + manage to achieve just the next best of all I dream.... + </p> + <p> + “Shall I ask Papa to put up a notice on the post next spring, to say + you're willing to lay down water-pipes and so on?” + </p> + <p> + She closed her eyes and laughed—so heartily she laughed. + </p> + <p> + I am torn with excitement, and her merriment pains me, though it is all + good-humoured enough. I glance round the place, trying to pull myself + together; here and there an acquaintance nods to me, and I return it; it + all seems so far away to me. I was sitting with a charming girl, and that + made people notice us. + </p> + <p> + “You know these people, it seems?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, one or two of them. Have you enjoyed yourself in town?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, immensely. I've two boy cousins here, and then there were their + friends as well.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor young Erik, out in the country,” said I jestingly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you with your young Erik. No, there's one here in town; his name's + Bewer. But I'm not friends with him just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that won't last long.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so? Really, though, I'm rather serious about it. I've an + idea he might be coming in here this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “You must point him out to me if he does.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought, as we drove out here, that you and I could sit here together, + you know, and make him jealous.” + </p> + <p> + “Right, then, we will.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but.... No, you'd have to be a bit younger. I mean....” + </p> + <p> + I forced myself to laugh. Oh, we would manage all right. Don't despise us + old ones, us ancient ones, we can be quite surprisingly useful at times. + “Only you'd better let me sit on the sofa beside you there, so he can't + see I'm bald at the back.” + </p> + <p> + Eh, but it is hard to take that perilous transition to old age in any + quiet and beautiful way. There comes a forcedness, a play of jerky effort + and grimaces, the fight against those younger than ourselves, and envy. + </p> + <p> + “Frøken....” I ask this of her now with all my heart. “Frøken, couldn't + you ring up Fru Falkenberg and get her to come round here now?” + </p> + <p> + She thinks for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we will,” she says generously. + </p> + <p> + We go out to the telephone, ring up the Victoria: Fruen is there. + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Lovise? You'd never guess who I'm with now? Won't you come + along? Oh, good! We're at the Grand. No, I can't tell you now. Yes, of + course it's a man—only he's a gentleman now—I won't say who it + is. Are you coming? Why, you said just now you would! Some people? Oh, + well, do as you like, of course, but I do think.... Yes, he's standing + here. You are in a hurry....” + </p> + <p> + Frøken Elisabeth rang off, and said shortly: + </p> + <p> + “She had to go and see some friends.” + </p> + <p> + We went back to our seat, and had some more wine; I tried to be cheerful, + and suggested champagne. Yes, thanks. And then, as we're sitting there, + Frøkenen says suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there's Bewer! I'm so glad we're drinking champagne.” + </p> + <p> + But I have only one idea in my mind, and being now called upon to show + what I can do, and charm this young lady to the ultimate advantage of some + one else, I find myself saying one thing and thinking another. Which, of + course, leads to disaster. I cannot get that telephone conversation out of + my head; she must have had an idea—have realized that it was I who + was waiting for her here. But what on earth had I done? Why had I been + dismissed so suddenly from Øvrebø, and Falkenberg taken on in my place. + Quite possibly the Captain and his wife were not always the best of + friends, but the Captain had scented danger in my being there, and wished + to save his wife at least from such an ignominious fall. And now, here she + was, feeling ashamed that I had worked on her place, that she had used me + to drive her carriage, and twice shared food with me by the way. And she + was ashamed, too, of my being no longer young.... + </p> + <p> + “This will never do,” says Frøken Elisabeth. + </p> + <p> + So I pull myself together again, and start saying all manner of foolish + things, to make her laugh. I drink a good deal and that helps; at last, + she really seems to fancy I am making myself agreeable to her on her own + account. She looks at me curiously. + </p> + <p> + “No, really, though, do you think I'm nice?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please—don't you understand?—I was speaking of Fru + Falkenberg.” + </p> + <p> + “Sh!” says Frøken Elisabeth. “Of course it is Fru Falkenberg; I know that + perfectly well, but you need not say so.... I really think we're beginning + to make an impression on him over there. Let's go on like we are doing, + and look interested.” + </p> + <p> + So she hadn't imagined I was trying on my own account, after all. I was + too old for that sort of thing, anyway. Devil take it, yes, of course. + </p> + <p> + “But you can't get Fru Falkenberg,” she says, beginning again. “It's + simply hopeless.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I can't get her. Nor you either.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you speaking to Fru Falkenberg now again?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it was to you this time.” + </p> + <p> + Pause. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know I was in love with you? Yes, when I was at home.” + </p> + <p> + “This is getting quite amusing,” said I, shifting up on the sofa. “Oh, + we'll manage Bewer, never fear.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, only fancy, I used to go up to the churchyard to meet you in the + evenings. But you, foolish person, you didn't see it a bit.” + </p> + <p> + “Now you're talking to Bewer, of course,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “No, it's perfectly true. And I came over one day when you were working in + the potato fields. It wasn't your young Erik I came to see, not a bit.” + </p> + <p> + “Only think, that it should have been me,” I say, putting on a melancholy + air. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course you think it was strange. But really, you know, people who + live in the country must have some one to be fond of too.” + </p> + <p> + “Does Fru Falkenberg say the same?” + </p> + <p> + “Fru Falkenberg? No, she says she doesn't want to be fond of anybody, only + play her piano and that sort of thing. But I was speaking of myself. Do + you know what I did once? No, really, I can't tell you that. Do you want + to know? + </p> + <p> + “Yes, tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then ... for, after all, I'm only a child compared to you, so it + doesn't matter. It was when you were sleeping in the barn; I went over + there one day and laid your rugs together properly, and made a proper + bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it you did that?” I burst out quite sincerely, forgetting to play my + part. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to have seen me stealing in. Hahaha!” + </p> + <p> + But this young girl was—not artful enough, she changed colour at her + little confession, and laughed forcedly to cover her confusion. + </p> + <p> + I try to help her out, and say: + </p> + <p> + “You're really good-hearted, you know. Fru Falkenberg would never have + done a thing like that.” + </p> + <p> + “No; but then she's older. Did you think we were the same age?” + </p> + <p> + “Does Fru Falkenberg say she doesn't <i>want</i> to be fond of anybody?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Oh no ... bother, I don't know. Fru Falkenberg's married, of course; + she doesn't say anything. Now talk to me again a little.... Yes, and do + you remember the time we went up to the store to buy things, you know? And + I kept walking slower and slower for you to catch up....” + </p> + <p> + “Yes ... that was nice of you. And now I'll do something for you in + return.” + </p> + <p> + I rose from my seat, and walked across to where young Bewer sat, and asked + if he would not care to join us at our table. I brought him along; Frøken + Elisabeth flushed hotly as he came up. Then I talked those two young + people well together, which done, I suddenly remembered I had some + business to do, and must go off at once. “I'm ever so sorry to leave just + now. Frøken Elisabeth, I'm afraid you've turned my head, bewitched me + completely; but I realize it's hopeless to think of it. It's a marvel to + me, by the way....” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXIV + </h2> + <p> + I shambled over to Raadhusgaten, and stood awhile by the cab stand, + watching the entrance to the Victoria. But, of course, she had gone to see + some friends. I drifted into the hotel, and got talking to the porter. + </p> + <p> + Yes, Fruen was in. Room No. 12, first floor. + </p> + <p> + Then she was not out visiting friends? + </p> + <p> + No. + </p> + <p> + Was she leaving shortly? + </p> + <p> + Fruen had not said so. + </p> + <p> + I went out into the street again, and the cabmen flung up their aprons, + inviting my patronage. I picked out a cab and got in. + </p> + <p> + “Where to?” + </p> + <p> + “Just stay where you are. I'm hiring you by the hour.” + </p> + <p> + The cabmen walk about whispering, one suggesting this, another that: he's + watching the place; out to catch his wife meeting some commercial + traveller. + </p> + <p> + Yes, I am watching the place. There is a light in one or two of the rooms, + and suddenly it strikes me that she might stand at a window and see me. + “Wait,” I say to the cabman, and go into the hotel again. + </p> + <p> + “Whereabouts is No. 12?” + </p> + <p> + “First floor.” + </p> + <p> + “Looking out on to Raadhusgaten?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it must have been my sister,” I say, inventing something in order to + slip past the porter. + </p> + <p> + I go up the stairs, and, to give myself no chance of turning back, I knock + at the door the moment I have seen the number. No answer. I knock again. + </p> + <p> + “Is it the maid?” comes a voice from within. + </p> + <p> + I could not answer yes; my voice would have betrayed me. I tried the + handle—the door was locked. Perhaps she had been afraid I might + come; possibly she had seen me outside. + </p> + <p> + “No, it's not the maid,” I say, and I can hear how the words quiver + strangely. + </p> + <p> + I stand listening a long while after that; I can hear someone moving + inside, but the door remains closed. Then come two short rings from one of + the rooms down to the hall. It must be she, I say to myself; she is + feeling uneasy, and has rung for the maid. I move away from her door, to + avoid any awkwardness for her, and, when the maid comes, I walk past as if + going downstairs. Then the maid says, “Yes, the maid,” and the door is + opened. + </p> + <p> + “No, no.” says the maid; “only a gentleman going downstairs.” + </p> + <p> + I thought of taking a room at the hotel, but the idea was distasteful to + me; she was not a runaway wife meeting commercial travellers. When I came + down, I remarked to the porter as I passed that Fruen seemed to be lying + down. + </p> + <p> + Then I went out and got into my cab again. The time passes, a whole hour; + the cabman wants to know if I do not feel cold? Well, yes, a little. Was I + waiting for some one? Yes.... He hands me down his rug from the box, and I + tip him the price of a drink for his thoughtfulness. + </p> + <p> + Time goes on; hour after hour. The cabmen talk unrestrainedly now, saying + openly one to another that I'm letting the horse freeze to death. + </p> + <p> + No, it was no good. I paid for the cab, went home, and wrote the following + letter: + </p> + <p> + “You would not let me write to you; will you not let me see you once + again? I will ask for you at the hotel at five to-morrow afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + Should I have fixed an earlier hour? But the light in the forenoon was so + white; if I felt moved and my mouth twitched, I should look a dreadful + sight. + </p> + <p> + I took the letter round myself to the hotel, and went home again. + </p> + <p> + A long night—oh, how long were those hours! Now, when I ought to + sleep and stretch myself and feel refreshed, I could not. Day dawned, and + I got up. After a long ramble through the streets I came back home again, + and slept. + </p> + <p> + Hours pass. When I awake and come to my senses, I hurry anxiously to the + telephone to ask if Fruen had left. + </p> + <p> + No, Fruen had not left. + </p> + <p> + Thank Heaven then, it seemed she did not wish to run away from me; she + must have had my letter long since. No; I had called at an awkward hour + the evening before, that was all. + </p> + <p> + I had something to eat, lay down, and slept again. When I woke it was past + noon. I stumble in to the telephone again and ring up as before. + </p> + <p> + No, Fruen had not left yet. But her things were packed. She was out just + now. + </p> + <p> + I got ready at once, and hurried round to Raadhusgaten to stand on watch. + In the course of half an hour I saw a number of people pass in and out, + not the one I sought. It was five o'clock now, and I went in and spoke to + the porter. + </p> + <p> + Fruen was gone. + </p> + <p> + Gone? + </p> + <p> + “Was it you that rang up? She came just at that moment and took her + things. But I've a letter here.” + </p> + <p> + I took the letter, and, without opening it, asked about the train. + </p> + <p> + “Train left at 4.45,” says the porter, looking at his watch. “It's five + now.” + </p> + <p> + I had thrown away half an hour keeping watch outside. + </p> + <p> + I sit down on one of the steps, staring at the floor. + </p> + <p> + The porter keeps on talking. He must be well aware it was not my sister. + </p> + <p> + “I said to Fruen there was a gentleman had just rung up. But she only said + she hadn't time, and would I give him this letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Was there another lady with her when she left?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + I got up and went out. In the street I opened the letter and read: + </p> + <p> + “You <i>must</i> not follow me about any more—” + </p> + <p> + Impassively I put the thing away. It had not surprised me, had made no new + impression. Thoroughly womanly, hasty words, written on impulse, with + underlining and a dash.... + </p> + <p> + Then it occurred to me to go round to Frøken Elisabeth's address; there + was still a glimmer of hope. I heard the door bell ring inside the house + as I pressed, and stood listening as in a whirling desert. + </p> + <p> + Frøken Elisabeth had left an hour before. + </p> + <p> + Then wine, and then whisky. And then endless whisky. And altogether a + twenty-one days' debauch, in the course of which a curtain falls and hides + my earthly consciousness. In this state, it enters my head one day to send + something to a little cottage in the country. It is a mirror, in a gay + gilt frame. And it was for a little maid, by name Olga, a creature + touching and sweet to watch as a young calf. + </p> + <p> + Ay, for I've not got over my neurasthenia yet. + </p> + <p> + The timber saw is in my room. But I cannot put it together, for the bulk + of the wooden parts I left behind at a vicarage in the country. It matters + little now, my love for the thing is dulled. My neurasthenic friends, + believe me, folk of our sort are useless as human beings, and we should + not even do for any kind of beast. + </p> + <p> + One day I suppose I shall grow tired of this unconsciousness, and go out + and live on an island once again. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A WANDERER PLAYS ON MUTED STRINGS + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_INTR2" id="link2H_INTR2"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION + </h2> + <p> + It looks to be a fine year for berries, yes; whortleberries, crowberries, + and fintocks. A man can't live on berries; true enough. But it is good to + have them growing all about, and a kindly thing to see. And many a thirsty + and hungry man's been glad to find them. + </p> + <p> + I was thinking of this only yesterday evening. + </p> + <p> + There's two or three months yet till the late autumn berries are ripe; + yes, I know. But there are other joys than berries in the wilds. Spring + and summer they are still only in bloom, but there are harebells and + ladyslippers, deep, windless woods, and the scent of trees, and stillness. + There is a sound as of distant waters from the heavens; never so + long-drawn a sound in all eternity. And a thrush may be singing as high as + ever its voice can go, and then, just at its highest pitch, the note + breaks suddenly at a right angle; clear and clean as if cut with a + diamond; then softly and sweetly down the scale once more. Along the + shore, too, there is life; guillemot, oyster-catcher, tern are busy there; + the wagtail is out in search of food, advancing in little spurts, trim and + pert with its pointed beak and swift little flick of a tail; after a while + it flies up to perch on a fence and sing with the rest. But when the sun + has set, may come the cry of a loon from some hill-tarn; a melancholy + hurrah. That is the last; now there is only the grasshopper left. And + there's nothing to say of a grasshopper, you never see it; it doesn't + count, only he's there gritting his resiny teeth, as you might say. + </p> + <p> + I sit and think of all these things; of how summer has its joys for a + wanderer, so there's no sort of need to wait till autumn comes. + </p> + <p> + And here I am writing cool words of these quiet things—for all the + world as if there were no violent and perilous happenings ahead. 'Tis a + trick, and I learned it of a man in the southern hemisphere—of a + Mexican called Rough. The brim of his huge hat was hung with tinkling + sequins: that in itself was a thing to remember. And most of all, I + remember how calmly he told the story of his first murder: “I'd a + sweetheart once named Maria,” said Rough, with that patient look of his; + “well, she was no more than sixteen, and I was nineteen then. She'd such + little hands when you touched them; fingers thin and slight, you know the + sort. One evening the master called her in from the fields to do some + sewing for him. No help for it then; and it wasn't more than a day again + before he calls her in same as before. Well, it went on like that a few + weeks, and then stopped. Seven months after Maria died, and they buried + her, little hands and all. I went to her brother Inez and said: 'At six + tomorrow morning the master rides to town, and he'll be alone.' 'I know,' + said he. 'You might lend me that little rifle of yours to shoot him with.' + 'I shall be using it myself,' said he. Then we talked for a bit about + other things: the crops, and a big new well we'd dug. And when I left, I + reached down his rifle from the wall and took it with me. In the timber I + heard Inez at my heels, calling to me to stop. We sat down and talked a + bit more this way and that; then Inez snatched the rifle away from me and + went home. Next morning I was up early, and out at the gate ready to open + it for the master; Inez was there too, hiding in the bushes. I told him + he'd better go on ahead; we didn't want to be two to one. 'He's pistols in + his belt.' said Inez; 'but what about you?' 'I know,' said I; 'but I've a + lump of lead here, and that makes no noise.' I showed him the lump of + lead, and he thought for a bit; then he went home. Then the master came + riding up; grey and old he was, sixty at least. 'Open the gate!' he called + out. But I didn't. He thought I must be mad, no doubt, and lashed out at + me with his whip, but I paid no heed. At last he had to get down himself + to open the gate. Then I gave him the first blow: it got him just by one + eye and cut a hole. He said, '<i>Augh</i>!' and dropped. I said a few + words to him, but he didn't understand; after a few more blows he was + dead. He'd a deal of money on him; I took a little to help me on my way, + then I mounted and rode off. Inez was standing in the doorway as I rode + past his place. 'It's only three and a half days to the frontier,' he + said.” + </p> + <p> + So Rough told his story, and sat staring coolly in front of him when it + was ended. + </p> + <p> + I have no murders to tell of, but joys and sufferings and love. And love + is no less violent and perilous than murder. + </p> + <p> + Green in all the woods now, I thought to myself this morning as I dressed. + The snow is melting on the hills, and everywhere the cattle in their sheds + are eager and anxious to be out; in houses and cottages the windows are + opened wide. I open my shirt and let the wind blow in upon me, and I mark + how I grow starstruck and uncontrollable within; ah, for a moment it is + all as years ago, when I was young, and a wilder spirit than now. And I + think to myself: maybe there's a tract of woodland somewhere east or west + of this, where an old man can find himself as well bested as a young. I + will go and look for it. + </p> + <p> + Rain and sun and wind by turns; I have been many days on the road already. + Too cold yet to lie out in the open at night, but there is always shelter + to be had at farmsteads by the way. One man thinks it strange that I + should go tramping about like this for nothing; he takes me, no doubt, for + somebody in disguise, just trying to be original like Wergeland. + [Footnote: A Norwegian poet.]The man knows nothing of my plans, how I am + on my way to a place I know, where live some people I have a fancy to see + again. But he is a sensible fellow enough, and involuntarily I nod as if + to agree there is something in what he says. There's a theatrical touch in + most of us that makes us feel flattered at being taken for more than we + are. Then up come his wife and daughter, good, ordinary souls, and carry + all away with their kindly gossip; he's no beggar, they say; be paid for + his supper and all. And at last I turn crafty and cowardly and say never a + word, and let the man lay more to my charge and still never a word. And we + three hearty souls outwin his reasoning sense, and he has to explain he + was only jesting all the time; surely we could see that. I stayed a night + and a day there, and greased my shoes with extra care, and mended my + clothes. + </p> + <p> + But then the man begins to suspect once more. “There'll be a handsome + present for that girl of mine when you leave, I know,” says he. I made as + if his words had no effect, and answered with a laugh: “You think so?” + “Yes,” says he; “and then when you're gone we'll sit thinking you must + have been somebody grand, after all.” + </p> + <p> + A detestable fellow this! I did the only thing I could: ignored his + sarcasm and asked for work. I liked the place, I said, and he'd need of + help; I could turn my hand to anything now in the busy time. + </p> + <p> + “You're a fool,” said he, “and the sooner you're off the place the better + I'll be pleased.” + </p> + <p> + Clearly he had taken a dislike to me, and there was none of the womenfolk + at hand to take my part. I looked at the man, at a loss to understand what + was in his mind. + </p> + <p> + His glance was steady; it struck me suddenly that I had never seen such + wisdom in the eyes of man or woman. But he carried his ill-will too far, + and made a false step. He asked: “What shall we say your name was?” “No + need to say anything at all,” I answered. “A wandering Eilert Sundt?” he + suggested. And I entered into the jest and answered: “Yes, why not?” But + at that he fired up and snapped out sharply: “Then I'm sorry for Fru + Sundt, that's all.” I shrugged my shoulders in return, and said: “You're + wrong there, my good man; I am not married.” And I turned to go. But with + an unnatural readiness he called after me: “'Tis you that's wrong: I meant + for the mother that bore you.” + </p> + <p> + A little way down the road I turned, and saw how his wife and daughter + took him up. And I thought to myself: no, 'tis not all roses when one goes + a-wandering. + </p> + <p> + At the next place I came to I learned that he had been with the army, as + quartermaster-sergeant; then he went mad over a lawsuit he lost, and was + shut up in an asylum for some time. Now in the spring his trouble broke + out again; perhaps it was my coming that had given the final touch. But + the lightning insight in his eyes at the moment when the madness came upon + him! I think of him now and again; he was a lesson to me. 'Tis none so + easy to judge of men, who are wise or mad. And God preserve us all from + being known for what we are! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + That day I passed by a house where a lad sat on the doorstep playing a + mouth-organ. He was no musician to speak of, but a cheerful soul he must + surely be, to sit there playing to himself like that. I would not disturb + him, but simply raised one hand to my cap, and stood a little distance + off. He took no notice of me, only wiped his mouth-organ and went on + playing. This went on for some time; then at last, waiting till he stopped + to wipe his instrument again, I coughed. + </p> + <p> + “That you, Ingeborg?” he called out. I thought he must be speaking to + someone in the house behind him, and made no answer. “You there, I mean,” + he said again. + </p> + <p> + I was confused at this. “Can't you see me?” I said. + </p> + <p> + He did not answer, but fumbled with his hands to either side, as if trying + to get up, and I realized that he was blind, “Sit still; don't be afraid + of me,” I said, and set myself down beside him. + </p> + <p> + We fell into talk: been blind since he was fourteen, it seemed; he would + be eighteen now, and a big, strong fellow he was, with a thick growth of + down on his chin. And, thank Heaven, he said, his health was good. But his + eyesight, I asked; could he remember what the world looked like? Yes, + indeed; there were many pleasant things he could remember from the time + when he could see. He was happy and content enough. He was going in to + Christiania this spring, to have an operation; then perhaps he might at + least be able to see well enough to walk; ay, all would be well in time, + no doubt. He was dull-witted, looked as if he ate a lot; was stout and + strong as a beast. But there was something unhealthy-looking, something of + the idiot about him; his acceptance of his fate was too unreasonable. To + be hopeful in that way implies a certain foolishness, I thought to myself; + a man must be lacking in sense to some degree if he can go ahead feeling + always content with life, and even reckoning to get something new, some + good out of it into the bargain. + </p> + <p> + But I was in the mood to learn something from all I chanced on in my + wandering; even this poor creature on his doorstep made me the wiser by + one little thing. How was it he could mistake me for a woman; the woman + Ingeborg he had called by name? I must have walked up too quietly. I had + forgotten the plodding cart-horse gait; my shoes were too light. I had + lived too luxuriously these years past; I must work my way back to the + peasant again. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Three more days now to the goal my curious fancy had set before me: to + Øvrebø, to Captain Falkenberg's. It was an opportune time to walk up there + just now and ask for work; there would be plenty to do on a big place like + that in the spring. Six years since I was there last; time had passed, and + for the last few weeks I had been letting my beard grow, so that none + should recognize me now. + </p> + <p> + It was in the middle of the week; I must arrange to get there on the + Saturday evening. Then the Captain would let me stay over the Sunday while + he thought about taking me on. On Monday he would come and say yes or no. + </p> + <p> + Strangely enough, I felt no excitement at the thought of what was to come; + nothing of unrest, no; calmly and comfortably I took my way by farmstead, + wood, and meadow. I thought to myself how I had once, years ago, spent + some adventurous weeks at that same Øvrebø, even to being in love with + Fruen herself, with Fru Lovise. Ay, that I was. She had fair hair and + grey, dark eyes; like a young girl she was. Six years gone, ay, so long it + is ago; would she be greatly changed? Time has had its wear on me; I am + grown dull and faded and indifferent; I look upon a woman now as + literature, no more. It has come to the end. Well, and what then? + Everything comes to an end. When first I entered on this stage I had a + feeling as if I had lost something; as if I had been favoured by the + caresses of a pickpocket. Then I set to and felt myself about, to see if I + could bear myself after this; if I could endure myself as I was now. Oh + well, yes, why not? Not the same as before, of course, but it all passed + off so noiselessly, but peacefully, but surely. Everything comes to an + end. + </p> + <p> + In old age one takes no real part in life, but keeps oneself on memories. + We are like letters that have been delivered; we are no longer on the way, + we have arrived. It is only a question whether we have whirled up joys and + sorrows out of what was in us, or have made no impression at all. Thanks + be for life; it was good to live! + </p> + <p> + But Woman, she was, as the wise aforetime knew, infinitely poor in mind, + but rich in irresponsibility, in vanity, in wantonness. Like a child in + many ways, but with nothing of its innocence. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + I stand by the guide-post where the road turns off to Øvrebø. There is no + emotion in me. The day lies broad and bright over meadow and woods; here + and there is ploughing and harrowing in the fields, but all moves slowly, + hardly seems to move at all, for it is full noon and a blazing sun. I walk + a little way on beyond the post, dragging out the time before going up to + the house. After an hour, I go into the woods and wander about there for a + while; there are berries in flower and a scent of little green leaves. A + crowd of thrushes go chasing a crow across the sky, making a great to-do, + like a clattering confusion of faulty castanets. I lie down on my back, + with my sack under my head, and drop off to sleep. + </p> + <p> + A little after I wake again, and walk over to the nearest ploughman. I + want to find out something about the Falkenbergs, if they are still there + and all well. The man answers cautiously; he stands blinking, with his + little, crafty eyes, and says: “All depends if Captain's at home.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he often away, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, he'll be at home.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he got the field work done?” + </p> + <p> + The man smiled: “Nay, I doubt it's not finished yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Are there hands enough to the place?” + </p> + <p> + “That's more than I can say; yes, I doubt there's hands enough. And the + field work's done; leastways, the manure's all carted out.” + </p> + <p> + The man clicks to his horses and goes on ploughing; I walked on beside + him. There was not much to be got out of him; next time the horses stopped + for a breathing space I worried out of him a few more contradictions as to + the family at Øvrebø. The Captain, it seemed was away on manoeuvres all + through the summer, and Fruen was at home alone. Yes, they had always a + heap of visitors, of course; but the Captain was away. That is to say, not + because he wanted to; he liked best to stay at home, by all accounts, but, + of course, he'd his duty as well. No, they'd no children as yet; didn't + look as if Fruen was like to have any. What was I talking about? They + might have children yet, of course; any amount of them for that. On again. + </p> + <p> + We plough on to the next stop. I am anxious not to arrive at an awkward + time, and ask the man, therefore, if he thinks there would be visitors or + anything of that sort up at the house today. No, he thought not. They'd + parties and visitors now and again, but.... Ay, and music and playing and + fine goings-on as often as could be, but.... And well they might, for that + matter, seeing they were fine folks, and rich and well-to-do as they were. + </p> + <p> + He was a torment, was that ploughman. I tried to find out something about + another Falkenberg, who could tune pianos at a pinch. On this the + ploughman's information was more definite. Lars? Ay, he was here. Know + him? Why, of course he knew Lars well enough. He'd finished with service + at Øvrebø, but the Captain had given him a clearing of land to live on; he + married Emma, that was maid at the house, and they'd a couple of children. + Decent, hardworking folk, with feed for two cows already out of their + clearing. + </p> + <p> + Here the furrow ended, and the man turned his team about. I thanked him, + and went on my way. + </p> + <p> + When I came to the house, I recognized all the buildings; they wanted + painting. The flagstaff I had helped to raise six years before, it stood + there still; but there was no cord to it, and the knob at the top was + gone. + </p> + <p> + Well, here I was, and that was four o'clock in the afternoon of the 26th + day of April. + </p> + <p> + Old folk have a memory for dates. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + It turned out otherwise than I had thought. Captain Falkenberg came out, + heard what I had to say, and answered no on the spot. He had all the hands + he wanted, and the field work was all but done. + </p> + <p> + Good! Might I go over to the men's room and sit down and rest a while? + </p> + <p> + Certainly. + </p> + <p> + No invitation to stay over Sunday. The Captain turned on his heel and went + indoors again. He looked as if he had only just got out of bed, for he was + wearing a night-shirt tucked into his trousers, and had no waistcoat on; + only a jacket flung on loosely and left unbuttoned. He was going grey + about the ears, and his beard as well. + </p> + <p> + I sat down in the men's quarters and waited till the farmhands came in for + their afternoon meal. There were only two of them—the foreman and + another. I got into talk with them, and it appeared the Captain had made a + mistake in saying the field work was all but done. Well, 'twas his own + affair. I made no secret of the fact that I was looking for a place, and, + as for being used to the work, I showed them the fine recommendation I had + got from the Lensmand at Hersæt years ago. When the men went out again, I + took my sack and walked out with them, ready to go on my way. I peeped in + at the stables and saw a surprising number of horses, looked at the + cowshed, at the fowls, and the pigs. I noticed that there was dung in the + pit from the year before that had not been carted out yet. + </p> + <p> + I asked how that could be. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what are we to do?” answered the foreman. “I looked to it from the + end of the winter up till now, and nobody but myself on the place. Now + there's two of us at least, in a sort of way, but now there's all the + ploughing and harrowing to be done.” + </p> + <p> + 'Twas his affair. + </p> + <p> + I bade him farewell, and went on my way. I was going to my good friend, + Lars Falkenberg, but I did not tell them so. There are some new little + buildings far up in the wood I can see, and that I take to be the + clearing. + </p> + <p> + But the man I had just left must have been inwardly stirred by the thought + of getting an extra hand to help with the work. I saw him tramp across the + courtyard and up to the house as I went off. + </p> + <p> + I had gone but a couple of hundred yards when he comes hurrying after me + to say I am taken on after all. He had spoken to the Captain, and got + leave to take me on himself. “There'll be nothing to do now till Monday, + but come in and have something to eat.” + </p> + <p> + He is a good fellow, this; goes with me up to the kitchen and tells them + there: “Here's a new man come to work on the place; see he gets something + to eat.” + </p> + <p> + A strange cook and strange maids. I get my food and go out again. No sign + of master or mistress anywhere. + </p> + <p> + But I cannot sit idle in the men's room all the evening; I walk up to the + field and talk to my two fellow-workers. Nils, the foreman, is from a farm + a little north of here, but, not being the eldest son, and having no farm + of his own to run, he has been sensible enough to take service here at + Øvrebø for the time being. And, indeed, he might have done worse. The + Captain himself was not paying more and more attention to his land, + rather, perhaps, less and less, and he was away so much that the man had + to use his own judgment many a time. This last autumn, for instance, he + has turned up a big stretch of waste land that he is going to sow. He + points out over the ground, showing where he's ploughed and what's to lie + over: “See that bit there how well it's coming on.” + </p> + <p> + It is good to hear how well this young man knows his work; I find a + pleasure in his sensible talk. He has been to one of the State schools, + too, and learned how to keep accounts of stock, entering loads of hay in + one column and the birth dates of the calves in another. His affair. In + the old days a peasant kept such matters in his head, and the womenfolk + knew to a day when each of their twenty or fifty cow was due to calve. + </p> + <p> + But he is a smart young fellow, nevertheless, and not afraid of work, only + a little soured and spoiled of late by having more on his hands than a man + could do. It was plain to see how he brightened up now he had got a man to + help with the work. And he settles there and then that I am to start on + Monday with the harrow horse, carting out manure, the lad to take one of + the Captain's carriage horses for the harrow; he himself would stick to + the ploughing. Ay, we would get our sowing done this year. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Sunday. + </p> + <p> + I must be careful not to show any former knowledge of things about the + place here; as, for instance, how far the Captain's timber runs, or where + the various out-houses and buildings are, or the well, or the roads. I + took some time getting things ready for tomorrow—greased the wheels + of the cart, and did up the harness, and gave the horse an extra turn. In + the afternoon I went for a four or five hours' ramble through the woods, + passed by Lars Falkenberg's place without going in, and came right out to + where the Captain's land joined that of the neighbouring village before I + turned back. I was surprised to see the mass of timber that had been cut. + </p> + <p> + When I got back, Nils asked: “Did you hear them singing and carrying on + last night?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; what was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Visitors,” said he, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + Visitors! yes, there were always visitors at Øvrebø just now. + </p> + <p> + There was an extremely fat but sprightly man among them; he wore his + moustache turned up at the ends, and was a captain in the same arm of the + service as the master. I saw him and the other guests come lounging out of + the house in the course of the evening. There was a man they called + Ingeniør, [Footnote: Engineer. Men are frequently addressed and referred + to by the title of their occupation, with or without adding the name.] he + was young, a little over twenty, fairly tall, brown-skinned and clean + shaven. And there was Elisabet from the vicarage. I remember Elisabet very + well, and recognized her now at once, for all she was six years older and + more mature. Little Elisabet of the old days was no longer a girl—her + breast stood out so, and gave an impression of exaggerated health. I + learned she is married; she took Erik after all, a farmer's son she had + been fond of as a child. She was still friendly with Fru Falkenberg, and + often came to stay. But her husband never came with her. + </p> + <p> + Elisabet is standing by the flagstaff, and Captain Falkenberg comes out. + They talk a little, and are occupied with their own affairs. The Captain + glances round every time he speaks; possibly he is not talking of trifles, + but of something he must needs be careful with. + </p> + <p> + Then comes the other Captain, the fat and jovial one; we can hear his + laugh right over in the servants' quarters. He calls out to Captain + Falkenberg to come along, but gets back only a curt answer. A few stone + steps lead down to the lilac shrubbery; the Captain goes down there now, a + maid following after with wine and glasses. Last of all comes the + engineer. + </p> + <p> + Nils bursts out laughing: “Oh, that Captain! look at him!” + </p> + <p> + “What's his name?” + </p> + <p> + “They all call him Bror; [Footnote: Brother. Not so much a nickname as a + general term of jovial familiarity.] it was the same last year as well. I + don't know his proper name.” + </p> + <p> + “And the Engineer?” + </p> + <p> + “His name's Lassen, so I've heard. He's only been here once before in my + time.” + </p> + <p> + Then came Fru Falkenberg out on the steps; she stopped for a moment and + glanced over at the two by the flagstaff. Her figure is slight and pretty + as ever; but her face seems looser, as if she had been stouter once and + since grown thin. She goes down to the shrubbery after the others, and I + recognize her walk again—light and firm as of old. But little wonder + if time has taken something of her looks in all those years. + </p> + <p> + More people come out from the house—an elderly lady wearing a shawl, + and two gentlemen with her. + </p> + <p> + Nils tells me it is not always there are so many guests in the house at + once; but it was the Captain's birthday two days ago, and two carriage + loads of people had come dashing up; the four strange horses were in the + stables now. + </p> + <p> + Now voices are calling again for the couple by the flagstaff; the Captain + throws out an impatient “Yes!” but does not move. Now he brushes a speck + of dust from Elisabet's shoulder; now, looking round carefully, he lays + one hand on her arm and tells her something earnestly. + </p> + <p> + Says Nils: + </p> + <p> + “They've always such a lot to talk about, those two. She never comes here + but they go off for long walks together.” + </p> + <p> + “And what does Fru Falkenberg say to that?” + </p> + <p> + “I've never heard she troubled about it any way.” + </p> + <p> + “And Elisabet, hasn't she any children either?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, she's many.” + </p> + <p> + “But how can she get away so often with that big place and the children to + look after?” + </p> + <p> + “It's all right as long as Erik's mother's alive. She can get away all she + wants.” + </p> + <p> + He went out as he spoke, leaving me alone. In this room I had sat once + working out the construction of an improved timber saw. How earnest I was + about it all! Petter, the farm-hand, lay sick in the room next door, and I + would hurry out eagerly whenever I'd any hammering to do, and get it done + outside. Now that patent saw's just literature to me, no more. So the + years deal with us all. + </p> + <p> + Nils comes in again. + </p> + <p> + “If the visitors aren't gone tomorrow, I'll take a couple of their horses + for the ploughing,” says he, thinking only of his own affairs. + </p> + <p> + I glanced out of the window; the couple by the flagstaff have moved away + at last. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + In the evening things grew more and more lively down in the shrubbery. The + maids went backwards and forwards with trays of food and drink; the party + were having supper among the lilacs. “Bror! Bror!” cried one and another, + but Bror himself was loudest of all. A chair had broken under his enormous + weight, and a message comes out to the servants' quarters to find a good, + solid, wooden chair that would bear him. Oh, but they were merry down in + the shrubbery! Captain Falkenberg walked up now and again in front of the + house to show he was still steady on his legs, and was keeping a watchful + eye on things in general. “You mark my words,” said Nils, “he'll not be + the first to give over. I drove for him last year, and he was drinking all + the way, but never a sign was there to see.” + </p> + <p> + The sun went down. It was growing chilly, perhaps, in the garden; anyway, + the party went indoors. But the big windows were thrown wide, and waves of + melody from Fru Falkenberg's piano poured out. After a while it changed to + dance tunes; jovial Captain Bror, no doubt, was playing now. + </p> + <p> + “Nice lot, aren't they?” said Nils. “Sit up playing and dancing all night, + and stay in bed all day. I'm going to turn in.” + </p> + <p> + I stayed behind, looking out of the window, and saw my mate Lars + Falkenberg come walking across the courtyard and go up into the house. He + had been sent for to sing to the company. When he has sung for a while, + Captain Bror and some of the others begin to chime in and help, making a + fine merry noise between them. After about an hour in comes Lars + Falkenberg to the servants' quarters with a half-bottle of spirit in his + pocket for his trouble. Seeing no one but me, a stranger, in the room, he + goes in to Nils in the bedroom next door, and they take a dram together; + after a little they call to me to come in. I am careful not to say too + much, hoping not to be recognized; but when Lars gets up to go home, he + asks me to go part of the way with him. And then it appears that I am + discovered already; Lars knows that I am his former mate of the + woodcutting days. + </p> + <p> + The Captain had told him. + </p> + <p> + Well and good, I think to myself. Then I've no need to bother about being + careful any more. To tell the truth, I was well pleased at the way things + had turned out; it meant that the Captain was completely indifferent as to + having me about the place; I could do as I pleased. + </p> + <p> + I walked all the way home with Lars, talking over old times, and of his + new place, and of the people at Øvrebø. It seemed that the Captain was not + looked up to with the same respect as before; he was no longer the + spokesman of the district, and neighbours had ceased to come and ask his + help and advice. The last thing of any account he did was to have the + carriage drive altered down to the high road, but that was five years ago. + The buildings needed painting, but he had put it off and never had it + done; the road across the estate was in disrepair, and he had felled too + much timber by far. Drink? Oh, so folk said, no doubt, but it couldn't be + fairly said he drank—not that way. Devil take the gossiping fools. + He drank a little, and now and again he would drive off somewhere and stay + away for a bit; but when he did come home again things never seemed to go + well with him, and that was the pity of it! An evil spirit seemed to have + got hold of him, said Lars. + </p> + <p> + And Fruen? + </p> + <p> + Fruen! She went about the house as before, and played on her piano, and + was as pretty and neat as ever any one could wish. And they keep open + house, with folk for ever coming and going; but taxes and charges on this + and that mount up, and it costs a deal to keep up the place, with all the + big buildings to be seen to. But it is a sin and a shame for the Captain, + and Fruen as well, to be so dead-weary of each other, you'd never think. + If they do say a word to each other, it's looking to the other side all + the time, and hardly opening their lips. They barely speak at all, except + to other people month after month the same. And all summer the Captain's + out on manoeuvres, and never comes home to see how his wife and the place + are getting on. “No, they've no children; that's the trouble,” says Lars. + </p> + <p> + Emma comes out and joins us. She looks well and handsome still, and I tell + her so. + </p> + <p> + “Emma?” says Lars. “Ay, well, she's none so bad. But she's for ever having + children, the wretch!” and, pouring out a drink from his half-bottle, he + forces her to drink it off. Now Emma presses us to come in; we might just + as well be sitting down indoors as standing about out here. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's summer now!” says Lars, evidently none so anxious to have me in. + Then, when I set off for home, he walks down again with me a bit of the + way, showing me where he's dug and drained and fenced about his bit of + land. Small as it is, he has made good and sensible use of it. I find a + strange sense of pleasure coming over me as I look at this cosy homestead + in the woods. There is a faint soughing of the wind in the forest behind; + close up to the house are foliage trees, and the aspens rustle like silk. + </p> + <p> + I walk back home. Night is deepening; all the birds are silent; the air + calm and warm, in a soft bluish gloom. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Let us be young to-night!” It is a man's voice, loud and bright, from + behind the lilacs. “Let's go and dance, or do something wild.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you forgotten what you were like last year?” answers Fru Falkenberg. + “You were nice and young then, and never said such things.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I never said such things. To think you should remember that! But you + scolded me one evening last year too. I said how beautiful you were that + evening, and you said no, you weren't beautiful any more; and you called + me a child, and told me not to drink so much.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, so I did,” says Fru Falkenberg, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “So you did, yes. But as to your being beautiful or not, surely I ought to + know when I was sitting looking at you all the time?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you child!” + </p> + <p> + “And this evening you're lovelier still.” + </p> + <p> + “There's some one coming!” + </p> + <p> + Two figures rise up suddenly behind the lilacs. Fruen and the young + engineer. Seeing it is only me, they breathe more easily again, and go on + talking as if I did not exist. And mark how strange is human feeling; I + had been wishing all along to be ignored and left in peace, yet now it + hurt me to see these two making so little account of me. My hair and beard + are turning grey, I thought to myself; should they not respect me at least + for that? + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you're lovelier still tonight,” says the man again. I come up + alongside them, touching my cap carelessly, and pass on. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you this much: you'll gain nothing by it,” says Fruen. And + then: “Here, you've dropped something,” she calls to me. + </p> + <p> + Dropped something? My handkerchief lay on the path; I had dropped it on + purpose. I turned round now and picked it up, said thank you, and walked + on. + </p> + <p> + “You're very quick to notice things of no account,” says the engineer. “A + lout's red-spotted rag.... Come, let's go and sit in the summer-house.” + </p> + <p> + “It's shut up at night,” says Fruen. “I dare say there's somebody in + there.” + </p> + <p> + After that I heard no more. + </p> + <p> + My bedroom is up in the loft in the servants' quarters, and the one open + window looks out to the shrubbery. When I come up I can still hear voices + down there among the bushes, but cannot make out what is said. I thought + to myself: why should the summer-house be shut up at night, and whose idea + could it be? Possibly some very crafty soul, reckoning that, if the door + were always kept locked, it would be less risky to slip inside one evening + in good company, take out the key, and stay there. + </p> + <p> + Some way down along the way I had just come were two people walking up—Captain + Bror and the old lady with the shawl. They had been sitting somewhere + among the trees, no doubt, when I passed by, and I fell to wondering now + if, by any chance, I could have been talking to myself as I walked, and + been overheard. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly I see the engineer get up from behind the bushes and walk swiftly + over to the summer-house. Finding it locked, he sets his shoulder against + the door and breaks it open with a crash. + </p> + <p> + “Come along, there's nobody here!” he cries. + </p> + <p> + Fru Falkenberg gets up and says: “Madman! Whatever are you doing?” + </p> + <p> + But she goes towards him all the same. + </p> + <p> + “Doing?” says he. “What else should I do? Love isn't glycerine—it's + nitro-glycerine.” + </p> + <p> + And he takes her by the arm and leads her in. + </p> + <p> + Well, 'tis their affair.... + </p> + <p> + But the stout Captain and his lady are coming up; the pair in the + summer-house will hardly be aware of their approach, and Fru Falkenberg + would perhaps find it far from agreeable to be discovered sitting there + with a man just now. I look about for some means of warning them; here is + an empty bottle; I go to the window and fling it as hard as I can over + towards the summer-house. There is a crash, bottle and tiles are broken, + and the pieces go clattering down over the roof; a cry of dismay from + within, and Fru Falkenberg rushes out, her companion behind her still + grasping her dress. They stop for a moment and look about them. “Bror!” + cries Fru Falkenberg, and sets off at a run down the shrubbery. “No, don't + come,” she calls back over her shoulder. “You <i>mustn't</i>, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + But the engineer ran after her, all the same. Wonderfully young he was, + and all inflexible. + </p> + <p> + Now the stout Captain and his lady come up, and their talk is a marvel to + hear. Love: there is nothing like it, so it seems. The stout cavalier must + be sixty at the least, and the lady with him, say forty; their infatuation + was a sight to see. + </p> + <p> + The Captain speaks: + </p> + <p> + “And up to this evening I've managed to hide it somehow, but now—well, + it's more than any man can. You've bewitched me Frue, completely.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't think you cared so much, really,” she answers gently, trying to + help him along. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I do,” he says. “And I can't stand it any longer, and that's the + truth. When we were up in the woods just now, I still thought I could get + through one more night, and didn't say anything much at the time. But now; + come back with me, say you will!” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “No; oh, I'd love to give you ... do what you....” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he exclaims, and, throwing his arms about her, stands pressing his + round paunch against hers. There they stood, looking like two + recalcitrants that would not. Oh, that Captain! + </p> + <p> + “Let me go,” she implored him. + </p> + <p> + He loosened his hold a trifle and pressed her to him again. Once more it + looked as if both were resisting. + </p> + <p> + “Come back up into the wood,” he urged again and again. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's impossible!” she answered. “And then it's all wet with the dew.” + </p> + <p> + But the Captain was full of passionate words—full and frothing over. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I used to think I didn't care much about eyes! Blue eyes—huh! + Grey eyes—huh! Eyes any sort of colour—huh! But then you came + with those brown eyes of yours....” + </p> + <p> + “They are brown, yes....” + </p> + <p> + “You burn me with them; you—you roast me up!” + </p> + <p> + “To tell the truth, you're not the first that's said nice things about my + eyes. My husband now....” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but what about me!” cries the Captain. “I tell you, Frue, if I'd only + met you twenty years ago, I wouldn't have answered for my reason. Come; + there's no dew to speak of up in the wood.” + </p> + <p> + “We'd better go indoors, I think,” she suggests. + </p> + <p> + “Go in? There's not a corner anywhere indoors where we can be alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we'll find somewhere!” she says. + </p> + <p> + “Well, anyhow, we must have an end of it to-night,” says the Captain + decisively. + </p> + <p> + And they go. + </p> + <p> + I asked myself: was it to warn anybody I had thrown that empty bottle? + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + At three in the morning I heard Nils go out to feed the horses. At four he + knocked to rouse me out of bed. I did not grudge him the honour of being + first up, though I could have called him earlier myself, any hour of that + night indeed, for I had not slept. 'Tis easy enough to go without sleep a + night or two in this light, fine air; it does not make for drowsiness. + </p> + <p> + Nils sets out for the fields, driving a new team. He has looked over the + visitors' horses, and chosen Elisabet's. Good country-breds, heavy in the + leg. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + More visitors arrive, and the house-party goes on. We farm-hands are busy + measuring, ploughing, and sowing; some of the fields are sprouting green + already after our work—a joy to see. + </p> + <p> + But we've difficulties here and there, and that with Captain Falkenberg + himself. “He's lost all thought and care for his own good,” says Nils. And + indeed an evil spirit must have got hold of him; he was half-drunk most of + the time, and seemed to think of little else beyond playing the genial + host. For nearly a week past, he and his guests had played upside down + with day and night. But what with the noise and rioting after dark the + beasts in stable and shed could get no rest; the maids, too, were kept up + at all hours, and, what was more, the young gentlemen would come over to + their quarters at night and sit on their beds talking, just to see them + undressed. + </p> + <p> + We working hands had no part in this, of course, but many a time we felt + shamed instead of proud to work on Captain Falkenberg's estate. Nils got + hold of a temperance badge and wore it in the front of his blouse. + </p> + <p> + One day the Captain came out to me in the fields and ordered me to get out + the carriage and fetch two new visitors from the station. It was in the + middle of the afternoon; apparently he had just got up. But he put me in + an awkward position here—why had he not gone to Nils? It struck me + that he was perhaps, after all, a little shy of Nils with his temperance + badge. + </p> + <p> + The Captain must have guessed my difficulty, for he smiled and said: + </p> + <p> + “Thinking what Nils might say? Well, perhaps I'd better talk to him + first.” + </p> + <p> + But I wouldn't for worlds have sent the Captain over to Nils just then, + for Nils was still ploughing with visitors' horses, and had asked me to + give him warning if I saw danger ahead. I took out my handkerchief to wipe + my face, and waved a little; Nils saw it, and slipped his team at once. + What would he do now, I wondered? But Nils was not easily dismayed; he + came straight in with his horses, though it was in the middle of a working + spell. + </p> + <p> + If only I could hold the Captain here a bit while he got in! Nils realizes + there is no time to be lost—he is already unfastening the harness on + the way. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the Captain looks at me, and asks: + </p> + <p> + “Well, have you lost your tongue?” + </p> + <p> + “'Twas Nils,” I answer then. “Something gone wrong, it looks like; he's + taken the horses out.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what then?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, I was only thinking....” + </p> + <p> + But there I stopped. Devil take it, was I to stand there playing the + hypocrite? Here was my chance to put in a word for Nils; the next round he + would have to manage alone. + </p> + <p> + “It's the spring season now,” I said, “and there's green showing already + where we're done. But there's a deal more to do yet, and we....” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what then—what then?” + </p> + <p> + “There's two and a half acres here, and Nils with hard on three acres of + corn land; perhaps Captain might give it another thought.” + </p> + <p> + At that the Captain swung on his heel and left me without a word. + </p> + <p> + “That's my dismissal,” I thought to myself. But I walked up after him with + my cart and team, ready to do as he had said. + </p> + <p> + I was in no fear now about Nils; he was close up to the stables by now. + The Captain beckoned to him, but without avail. Then “Halt!” he cried, + military fashion; but Nils was deaf. + </p> + <p> + When we reached the stables the horses were back in their places already. + The Captain was stiff and stern as ever, but I fancied he had been + thinking matters over a little on the way. + </p> + <p> + “What have you brought the horses in for now?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Plough was working loose,” answered Nils. “I brought them in just while + I'm setting it to rights again; it won't take very long.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain raps out his order: + </p> + <p> + “I want a man to drive to the station.” + </p> + <p> + Nils glances at me, and says half to himself: + </p> + <p> + “H'm! So that's it? A nice time for that sort of thing.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that you're muttering about?” + </p> + <p> + “There's two of us and a lad,” says Nils, “for the season's work this + spring. 'Tis none so much as leaves any to spare.” + </p> + <p> + But the Captain must have had some inkling as to the two brown horses Nils + had been in such a hurry to get in; he goes round patting the animals in + turn, to see which of them are warm. Then he comes back to us, wiping his + fingers with his handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “Do you go ploughing with other people's horses, Nils?” + </p> + <p> + Pause. + </p> + <p> + “I'll not have it here; you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “H'm! No,” says Nils submissively. Then suddenly he flares up: “We've more + need of horses this spring than any season ever at Øvrebø: we're taking up + more ground than ever before. And here were these strange cattle standing + here day after day eating and eating, and doing never so much as the worth + of the water they drank. So I took them out for a bit of a spell now and + then, just enough to keep them in trim.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll have no more of it. You hear what I say?” repeated the Captain + shortly. + </p> + <p> + Pause. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you say one of the Captain's plough horses was ailing yesterday?” + I put in. + </p> + <p> + Nils was quick to seize his chance. + </p> + <p> + “Ay. So it was. Standing all a-tremble in its box. I couldn't have taken + it out anyway.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain looked me coldly up and down. + </p> + <p> + “What are you standing here for?” he asked sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Captain said I was to drive to the station.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, be off and get ready.” + </p> + <p> + But Nils took him up on the instant. + </p> + <p> + “That can't be done.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo, Nils!” said I to myself. The lad was thoroughly in the right, and + he looked it, sturdily holding his own. And as for the horses, our own had + been sorely overdone with the long season's work, and the strange cattle + stood there eating their heads off and spoiling for want of exercise. + </p> + <p> + “Can't be done?” said the Captain, astounded. “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “If Captain takes away the help I've got, then I've finished here, that's + all,” says Nils. + </p> + <p> + The Captain walked to the stable door and looked out, biting his moustache + and thinking hard. Then he asked over his shoulder: + </p> + <p> + “And you can't spare the lad, either?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Nils; “he's the harrowing to do.” + </p> + <p> + This was our first real encounter with the Captain, and we had our way. + There were some little troubles again later on, but he soon gave in. + </p> + <p> + “I want a case fetched from the station,” he said one day. “Can the boy go + in for it?” + </p> + <p> + “The boy's as ill to spare as a man for us now,” said Nils. “If he's to + drive in to the station now, he won't be back till late tomorrow; that's a + day and a half lost.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo!” I said to myself again. Nils had spoken to me before about that + case at the station; it was a new consignment of liquor; the maids had + heard about it. + </p> + <p> + There was some more talk this way and that. The Captain frowned; he had + never known a busy season last so long before. Nils lost his temper, and + said at last: “If you take the boy off his field work, then I go.” And + then he did as he and I had agreed beforehand, and asked me straight out: + </p> + <p> + “Will you go, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said I. + </p> + <p> + At that the Captain gave way, and said with a smile: “Conspiracy, I see. + But I don't mind saying you're right in a way. And you're good fellows to + work.” + </p> + <p> + But the Captain saw but little of our work, and little pleasure it gave + him. He looked out now and again, no doubt, over his fields, and saw how + much was ploughed and sown, but that was all. But we farm-hands worked our + hardest, and all for the good of our master; that was our way. + </p> + <p> + Ay, that was our way, no doubt. + </p> + <p> + But maybe now and again we might have just a thought of question as to + that zeal of ours, whether it was so noble after all. Nils was a man from + the village who was anxious to get his field work done at least as quickly + as any of his neighbours; his honour was at stake. And I followed him. Ay, + even when he put on that temperance badge, it was, perhaps, as much as + anything to get the Captain sober enough to see the fine work we had done. + And here again I was with him. Moreover, I had perhaps a hope that Fruen, + that Fru Falkenberg at least, might understand what good souls we were. I + doubt I was no better than to reckon so. + </p> + <p> + The first time I saw Fru Falkenberg close to was one afternoon as I was + going out of the kitchen. She came walking across the courtyard, a + slender, bareheaded figure. I raised my cap and looked at her; her face + was strangely young and innocent to see. And with perfect indifference she + answered my “<i>Goddag</i>,” and passed on. + </p> + <p> + It could not be all over for good between the Captain and his wife. I + based this view upon the following grounds: + </p> + <p> + Ragnhild, the parlour-maid, was her mistress's friend and trusted spy. She + noted things on Fruen's behalf, went last to bed, listened on the stairs, + made a few swift, noiseless steps when she was outside and somebody + called. She was a handsome girl, with very bright eyes, and fine and + warm-blooded into the bargain. One evening I came on her just by the + summer-house, where she stood sniffing at the lilacs; she started as I + came up, pointed warningly towards the summer-house, and ran off with her + tongue between her teeth. + </p> + <p> + The Captain was aware of Ragnhild's doings, and once said to his wife so + all might hear—he was drunk, no doubt, and annoyed at something or + other: + </p> + <p> + “That Ragnhild's an underhanded creature; I'd be glad to be rid of her.” + </p> + <p> + Fruen answered: + </p> + <p> + “It's not the first time you've wanted to get Ragnhild out of the way; + Heaven knows what for! She's the best maid we've ever had.” + </p> + <p> + “For that particular purpose, I dare say,” he retorted. + </p> + <p> + This set me thinking. Fruen was perhaps crafty enough to keep this girl + spying, simply to make it seem as if she cared at all what her husband + did. Then people could imagine that Fruen, poor thing, went about secretly + longing for him, and being constantly disappointed and wronged. And then, + of course, who could blame her if she did the like in return, and went her + own way? Heaven knows if that was the way of it! + </p> + <p> + One day later on the Captain changed his tactics. He had not managed to + free himself from Ragnhild's watchfulness; she was still there, to be + close at hand when he was talking to Elisabet in some corner, or making + towards the summer-house late in the evening to sit there with some one + undisturbed. So he tried another way, and began making himself agreeable + to that same Ragnhild. Oho! 'twas a woman's wit—no doubt, 'twas + Elisabet—had put him up to that! + </p> + <p> + We were sitting at the long dining-table in the kitchen, Nils and I and + the lad; Fruen was there, and the maids were busy with their own work. + Then in comes the Captain from the house with a brush in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Give my coat a bit of a brush, d'you mind?” says he to Ragnhild. + </p> + <p> + She obeyed. When she had finished, he thanked her, saying: “Thank you, my + child.” + </p> + <p> + Fruen looked a little surprised, and, a moment after, sent her maid + upstairs for something. The Captain looked after her as she went, and + said: + </p> + <p> + “Wonderfully bright eyes that girl has, to be sure.” + </p> + <p> + I glanced across at Fruen. Her eyes were blazing, her cheeks flushed, as + she moved to leave the room. But in the doorway she turned, and now her + face was pale. She seemed to have formed her resolution already. Speaking + over her shoulder, she said to her husband: + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't be surprised if Ragnhild's eyes were a little too bright.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” says the Captain, in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” says Fruen, with a slight laugh, nodding over towards the table + where we sat. “She's getting a little too friendly with the men out here.” + </p> + <p> + Silence. + </p> + <p> + “So perhaps she'd better go,” Fruen went on. + </p> + <p> + It was incomparable audacity on Fruen's part, of course, to say such a + thing to our face, but we could not protest; we saw she was only using us + to serve her need. + </p> + <p> + When we got outside, Nils said angrily: + </p> + <p> + “I'm not sure but I'd better go back and say a word or two myself about + that.” + </p> + <p> + But I dissuaded him, saying it was not worth troubling about. + </p> + <p> + A few days passed. Again the Captain found an opportunity of paying + barefaced compliments to Ragnhild: “... with a figure like yours,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + And the tone of everything about the house now—badly changed from of + old. Gone down, grown poorer year by year, no doubt, drunken guests doing + their share to help, and idleness and indifference and childlessness for + the rest. + </p> + <p> + In the evening, Ragnhild came to me and told me she was given notice; + Fruen had made some reference to me, and that was all. + </p> + <p> + Once more a piece of underhand work. Fruen knew well I should not be long + on the place; why not make me the scapegoat? She was determined to upset + her husband's calculations, that was the matter. + </p> + <p> + Ragnhild, by the way, took it to heart a good deal, and sobbed and dabbed + her eyes. But after a while she comforted herself with the thought that, + as soon as I was gone, Fruen would take back her dismissal and let her + stay. I, for my part, was inwardly sure that Fruen would do nothing of the + kind. + </p> + <p> + Yes, the Captain and Elisabet might be content: the troublesome + parlour-maid was to be sent packing, surely enough. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + But who was to know? I might be out in my reckoning after all. New + happenings set me questioning anew; ay, forced me to alter my judgment + once again. 'Tis a sorely difficult thing to judge the truth of humankind. + </p> + <p> + I learned now, beyond doubt, that Fru Falkenberg was truly and honestly + jealous of her husband; not merely pretending to be, as so by way of + covering her own devious ways. Far, indeed, from any pretence here. True, + she did not really believe for a moment that he was interested in her + maid. But it suited her purpose to pretend she did; in her extremity, she + would use any means that came to hand. She had blushed during that scene + in the kitchen; yes, indeed, but that was a sudden and natural indignation + at her husband's ill-chosen words, nothing more. + </p> + <p> + But she had no objections to her husband's imagining she was jealous of + the girl. This was just what she wanted. Her meaning was clear enough. I'm + jealous again, yes; you can see it's all the same as before with me: here + I am! Fru Falkenberg was better than I had thought. For many years now the + pair had slipped farther and farther from each other through indifference, + partly perhaps towards the last, in defiance; now she would take the first + step and show that she cared for him still. That was it, yes. But, in face + of the one she feared most of all, she would not show her jealousy for + worlds—and that was Elisabet, this dangerous friend of hers who was + so many years younger than herself. + </p> + <p> + Yes, that was the way of it. + </p> + <p> + And the Captain? Was he moved at all to see his wife flush at his words to + her maid? Maybe a shadow of memory from the old days, a tingle of wonder, + a gladness. But he said no word. Maybe he was grown prouder and more + obstinate with the years that had passed. It might well seem so from his + looks. + </p> + <p> + Then it was there came the happenings I spoke of. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + Fru Falkenberg had been playing with her husband now for some little time. + She affected indifference to his indifference, and consoled herself with + the casual attentions of men staying in the house. Now one and now another + of them left, but stout Captain Bror and the lady with the shawl stayed + on, and Lassen, the young engineer, stayed too. Captain Falkenberg looked + on as if to say: “Well and good, stay on by all means, my dear fellow, as + long as you please.” And it made no impression on him when his wife said + “Du” to Lassen and called him Hugo. “Hugo!” she would call, standing on + the steps, looking out. And the Captain would volunteer carelessly: + “Hugo's just gone down the road.” + </p> + <p> + One day I heard him answer her with a bitter smile and a wave of his hand + towards the lilacs: “Little King Hugo is waiting for you in his kingdom.” + I saw her start; then she laughed awkwardly to cover her confusion, and + went down in search of Lassen. + </p> + <p> + At last she had managed to wring some expression of feeling out of him. + She would try it again. + </p> + <p> + This was on a Sunday. + </p> + <p> + Later in the day Fruen was strangely restless; she said a few kindly words + to me, and mentioned that both Nils and I had managed our work very well. + </p> + <p> + “Lars has been to the post office today,” she said, “to fetch a letter for + me. It's one I particularly want. Would you mind going up to his place and + bringing it down for me?” + </p> + <p> + I said I would with pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “Lars won't be home again till about eleven. So you need not start for a + long time yet.” + </p> + <p> + Very good. + </p> + <p> + “And when you get back, just give the letter to Ragnhild.” + </p> + <p> + It was the first time Fru Falkenberg had spoken to me during my present + stay at Øvrebø; it was something so new, I went up afterwards to my + bedroom and sat there by myself, feeling as if something had really + happened. I thought over one or two things a little as well. It was simply + foolishness, I told myself to go on playing the stranger here and + pretending nobody knew. And a full beard was a nuisance in the hot + weather; moreover, it was grey, and made me look ever so old. So I set to + and shaved it off. + </p> + <p> + About ten o'clock I started out towards the clearing. Lars was not back. I + stayed there a while with Emma, and presently he came in. I took the + letter and went straight home. It was close on midnight. + </p> + <p> + Ragnhild was nowhere to be seen, and the other maids had gone to bed. I + glanced in at the shrubbery. There sat Captain Falkenberg and Elisabet, + talking together at the round stone table; they took no notice of me. + There was a light in Fruen's bedroom upstairs. And suddenly it occurred to + me that to-night I looked as I had done six years before, clean-shaven as + then. I took the letter out of my pocket and went in the main entrance to + give it to Fruen myself. + </p> + <p> + At the top of the stairs Ragnhild comes slipping noiselessly towards me + and takes the letter. She is evidently excited. I can feel the heat of her + breath as she points along the passage. There is a sound of voices from + the far end. + </p> + <p> + It looked as if she had taken up her post here on guard, or had been set + there by some one to watch; however, it was no business of mine. And when + she whispered: “Don't say a word; go down again quietly!” I obeyed, and + went to my room. + </p> + <p> + My window was open. I could hear the couple down among the bushes: they + were drinking wine. And there was still light upstairs in Fruen's room. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes passed; then the light went out. + </p> + <p> + A moment later I heard some one hurrying up the stairs in the house, and + looked down involuntarily to see if it was the Captain. But the Captain + was sitting as before. + </p> + <p> + Now came the same steps down the stairs again, and, a little after, + others. I kept watch on the main entrance. First comes Ragnhild, flying as + if for her life over towards the servants' quarters; then comes Fru + Falkenberg with her hair down, and the letter in her hand showing white in + the gloom. After her comes the engineer. The pair of them move down + towards the high road. + </p> + <p> + Ragnhild comes rushing in to me and flings herself on a chair, all out of + breath and bursting with news. Such things had happened this evening, she + whispered. Shut the window! Fruen and that engineer fellow—never a + thought of being careful—'twas as near as ever could be but they'd + have done it. He was holding on to her when Ragnhild went in with the + letter. Ugh! Up in Fruen's room, with the lamp blown out. + </p> + <p> + “You're mad,” said I to Ragnhild. + </p> + <p> + But the girl had both heard and seen well enough, it seemed. She was grown + so used to playing the spy that she could not help spying on her mistress + as well. An uncommon sort, was Ragnhild. + </p> + <p> + I put on a lofty air at first and would have none of her tale-bearing, + thank you, listening at keyholes. Fie! + </p> + <p> + But how could she help it, she replied. Her orders were to bring up the + letter as soon as her mistress put out the light, and not before. But + Fruen's windows looked out to the shrubbery, where the Captain was sitting + with Elisabet from the vicarage. No place for Ragnhild there. Better to + wait upstairs in the passage, and just take a look at the keyhole now and + again, to see if the light was out. + </p> + <p> + This sounded a little more reasonable. + </p> + <p> + “But only think of it,” said Ragnhild suddenly, shaking her head in + admiration. “What a fellow he must be, that engineer, to get as near as + that with Fruen.” + </p> + <p> + As near as what! Jealousy seized me; I gave up my lofty pose, and + questioned Ragnhild searchingly about it all. What did she say they were + doing? How did it all come about? + </p> + <p> + Ragnhild could not say how it began. Fruen had given her orders about a + letter that was to be fetched from Lars Falkenberg's, and when it arrived, + she was to wait till the light went out in Fruen's room, and then bring it + up. “Very good,” said Ragnhild. “But not till I put out the light, you + understand,” said Fruen again. And Ragnhild had set herself to wait for + the letter. But the time seemed endless, and she fell to thinking and + wondering about it all; there was something strange about it. She went up + into the passage and listened. She could hear Fruen and the engineer + talking easily and without restraint; stooping down to the keyhole, she + saw her mistress loosening her hair, with the engineer looking on and + saying how lovely she was. And then—ah, that engineer—he + kissed her. + </p> + <p> + “On the lips, was it?...” + </p> + <p> + Ragnhild saw I was greatly excited, and tried to reassure me. + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps not quite. I won't be sure; but still ... and he's not a + pretty mouth, anyway, to my mind.... I say, though, you've shaved all + clean this evening. How nice! Let me see....” + </p> + <p> + “But what did Fruen say to that? Did she slip away?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I think so; yes, of course she did—and screamed.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she, though?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; out loud. And he said '<i>Sh</i>!' And every time she raised her + voice he said '<i>Sh</i>!' again. But Fruen said let them hear, it didn't + matter; they were sitting down there making love in the shrubbery + themselves. That's what she said, and it was the Captain and Elisabet from + the vicarage she meant. 'There, you can see them,' she said, and went to + the window. 'I know, I know,' says the engineer; 'but, for Heaven's sake, + don't stand there with your hair down!' and he went over and got her away + from the window. Then they said a whole heap of things, and every time he + tried to whisper Fruen talked out loud again. 'If only you wouldn't + shout,' he said. 'We could be ever so quiet up here.' Then she was quiet + for a bit, and just sat there smiling at him without a word. She was ever + so fond of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Was she?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, I could see that much. Only fancy, a fellow like that! He + leaned over towards her, and put his hand so—there.” + </p> + <p> + “And Fruen sat still and let him?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes, a little. But then she went over to the window again, and came + back, and put out her tongue like that—and went straight up to him + and kissed him. I can't think how she could. For his mouth's not a bit + nice, really. Then he said, 'Now we're all alone, and we can hear if + anybody comes.' 'What about Bror and his partner?' said she. 'Oh; they are + out somewhere, at the other end of the earth,' said he. 'We're all alone; + don't let me have to keep on asking you now!' And then he took hold of her + and picked her up—oh, he was so strong, so strong! 'No, no; leave + go!' she cried.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on!” I said breathlessly. “What next?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it was just then you came up with the letter, and I didn't see what + happened next. And when I went back, they'd turned the key in the lock, so + I could hardly see at all. But I heard Fruen saying: 'Oh, what are you + doing? No, no, we mustn't!' She must have been in his arms then. And then + at last she said: 'Wait, then; let me get down a minute.' And he let her + go. 'Blow out the lamp,' she said. And then it was all dark ... oh!...” + </p> + <p> + “But now I was at my wits' end what to do,” Ragnhild went on. “I stood a + minute all in a flurry, and was just going to knock at the door all at + once—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; why didn't you? What on earth made you wait at all?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, if I had, then Fruen'd have known in a moment I'd been listening + outside,” answered the girl. “No, I slipped away from the door and down + the stairs, then turned back and went up again, treading hard so Fruen + could hear the way I came. The door was still fastened, but I knocked, and + Fruen came and opened it. But the engineer was just behind; he'd got hold + of her clothes, and was simply wild after her. 'Don't go! don't go!' he + kept on saying, and never taking the slightest notice of me. But then, + when I turned to go, Fruen came out with me. Oh, but only think. It was as + near as could be!...” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + A long, restless night. + </p> + <p> + At noon, when we men came home from the fields next day, the maids were + whispering something about a scene between the Captain and his wife. + Ragnhild knew all about it. The Captain had noticed his wife with her hair + down the night before, and the lamp out upstairs, and laughed at her hair + and said wasn't it pretty! And Fruen said nothing much at first, but + waited her chance, and then she said: “Yes, I know. I like to let my hair + down now and again, and why not? It isn't yours!” She was none so clever, + poor thing, at answering back in a quarrel. + </p> + <p> + Then Elisabet had come up and put in her word. And she was smarter—<i>prrr</i>! + Fruen did manage to say: “Well, anyhow we were in the house, but you two + were sitting out among the bushes!” And Elisabet turned sharp at that, and + snapped out: “We didn't put out the light!” “And if we did,” said Fruen, + “it made no difference; we came down directly after.” + </p> + <p> + Heavens! I thought to myself, why ever didn't she say they put the light + out <i>because</i> they were going down? + </p> + <p> + That was the end of it for a while. But then, later on, the Captain said + something about Fruen being so much older than Elisabet. “You ought always + to wear your hair down,” he said. “On my word, it made you look quite a + girl!” “Oh yes, I dare say I need it now,” answered Fruen. But seeing + Elisabet turn away laughing, she flared up all of a sudden and told her to + take herself off. And Elisabet put her hands on her hips, and asked the + Captain to order her carriage. “Right!” says the Captain at that; “and + I'll drive you myself!” + </p> + <p> + All this Ragnhild had heard for herself standing close by. + </p> + <p> + I thought to myself they were jealous, the pair of them—she, of this + sitting out in the shrubbery, and he, of her letting her hair down and + putting out the light. + </p> + <p> + As we came out of the kitchen, and were going across for a rest, there was + the Captain busy with Elisabet's carriage. He called me up and said: + </p> + <p> + “I ought not to ask you now, when you're having your rest, but I wish + you'd go down and mend the door of the summer-house for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Right!” I said. + </p> + <p> + Now that door had been wrong ever since the engineer burst it open several + nights before. What made the Captain so anxious to have it put right just + at this moment? He'd have no use for the summerhouse while he was driving + Elisabet home. Was it because he wanted to shut the place up so no one + else should use it while he was away? It was a significant move, if so. + </p> + <p> + I took some tools and things and went down to the shrubbery. + </p> + <p> + And now I had my first look at the summer-house from inside. It was + comparatively new; it had not been there six years before. A roomy place, + with pictures on the walls, and even an alarm clock—now run down—chairs + with cushions, a table, and an upholstered settee covered with red plush. + The blinds were down. + </p> + <p> + I set a couple of pieces in the roof first, where I'd smashed it with my + empty bottle; then I took off the lock to see what was wrong there. While + I was busy with this the Captain came up. He had evidently been drinking + already that day, or was suffering from a heavy bout the night before. + </p> + <p> + “That's no burglary,” he said. “Either the door must have been left open, + and slammed itself to bits, or some one must have stumbled up against it + in the dark. One of the visitors, perhaps, that left the other day.” + </p> + <p> + But the door had been roughly handled, one could see: the lock was burst + open, and the woodwork on the inside of the frame torn away. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see! Put a new bolt in here, and force the spring back in place,” + said the Captain, examining the lock. He sat down in a chair. + </p> + <p> + Fru Falkenberg came down the stone steps to the shrubbery, and called: + </p> + <p> + “Is the Captain there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said I. + </p> + <p> + Then she came up. Her face was twitching with emotion. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like a word with you,” she said. “I won't keep you long.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain answered, without rising: + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. Will you sit down, or would you rather stand? No, don't run + away, you! I've none too much time as it is,” he said sharply to me. + </p> + <p> + This I took to mean that he wanted the lock mended so he could take the + key with him when he went. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say it wasn't—I oughtn't to have said what I did,” Fruen + began. + </p> + <p> + The Captain made no answer. + </p> + <p> + But his silence, after she had come down on purpose to try and make it up, + was more than she could bear. She ended by saying: “Oh, well, it's all the + same; I don't care.” + </p> + <p> + And she turned to go. + </p> + <p> + “Did you want to speak to me?” asked the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, it doesn't matter. Thanks, I shan't trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said the Captain. He smiled as he spoke. He was drunk, no + doubt, and angry about something. + </p> + <p> + But Fruen turned as she passed by me in the doorway, and said: + </p> + <p> + “You ought not to drive down there today. There's gossip enough already.” + </p> + <p> + “You need not listen to it,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “It can't go on like this, you know,” she said again. “And you don't seem + to think of the disgrace....” + </p> + <p> + “We're both a little thoughtless in that respect,” he answered carelessly, + looking round at the walls. + </p> + <p> + I took the lock and stepped outside. + </p> + <p> + “Here, don't go running away now!” cried the Captain. “I'm in a hurry!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you're in a hurry, of course,” repeated Fruen. “Going away again. + But you'd do well to think it over just for once. I've been thinking + things over myself lately; only you wouldn't see....” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” he asked, haughty and stiff as ever. “Was it your + fooling about at night with your hair down and lights out you thought I + wouldn't see? Oh yes, no doubt!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll have to finish this on the anvil,” said I, and hurried off. + </p> + <p> + I stayed away longer than was needed, but when I came back Fruen was still + there. They were talking louder than before. + </p> + <p> + “And do you know what I have done?” said Fruen “I've lowered myself so far + as to show I was jealous. Yes, I've done that. Oh, only about the maid ... + I mean....” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what then?” said the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, won't you understand? Well, have it your own way, then. You'll have + to take the consequences later; make no mistake about that!” + </p> + <p> + These were her last words, and they sounded like an arrow striking a + shield. She stepped out and strode away. + </p> + <p> + “Manage it all right?” said the Captain as I came up. But I could see his + thoughts were busy with other things; he was trying to appear unconcerned. + A little after, he managed to yawn, and said lazily: “Ugh, it's a long + drive. But if Nils can't spare a hand I must go myself.” + </p> + <p> + I had only to fix the lock in its place, and set a new strip down the + inside of the door-frame; it was soon done. The Captain tried the door, + put the key in his pocket, thanked me for the work, and went off. + </p> + <p> + A little later he drove away with Elisabet. + </p> + <p> + “See you again soon,” he called to Captain Bror and Engineer Lassen, + waving his hand to them both. “Mind that you have a good time while I'm + away!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + Evening came. And what would happen now? A great deal, as it turned out. + </p> + <p> + It started early; we men were at supper while they were having dinner up + at the house, and we could hear them carrying on as gaily as could be. + Ragnhild was taking in trays of food and bottles, and waiting at table; + once when she came out, she laughed to herself and said to the other + girls: “I believe Fruen's drunk herself tonight.” + </p> + <p> + I had not slept the night before, nor had my midday rest; I was troubled + and nervous after all that had happened the last two days. So, as soon as + I had finished my supper, I went out and up to the woods to be alone. I + stayed there a long while. + </p> + <p> + I looked down towards the house. The Captain away, the servants gone to + rest, the beasts in stable and shed fast asleep. Stout Captain Bror and + his lady, too, had doubtless found a quiet corner all to themselves after + dinner; he was simply wild about the woman, for all he was old and fat and + she herself no longer young. That left only Fru Falkenberg and the young + engineer. And where would they be now? + </p> + <p> + 'Twas their affair. + </p> + <p> + I sauntered home again, yawning and shivering a little in the cool night, + and went up to my room. After a while Ragnhild came up, and begged me to + keep awake and be ready to help in case of need. It was horrible, she + said; they were carrying on like mad things up at the house, walking about + from one room to another, half undressed and drunk as well. Was Fruen + drunk, too? Yes, she was. And was she walking about half undressed? No, + but Captain Bror was, and Fruen clapped her hands and cried “Bravo!” And + the engineer as well. It was one as bad as the other. And Ragnhild had + just taken in two more bottles of wine, though they were drunk already. + </p> + <p> + “Come over with me and you can hear them yourself,” said Ragnhild. + “They're up in Fruen's room now.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” I said. “I'm going to bed. And you'd better go, too.” + </p> + <p> + “But they'll ring in a minute and be wanting something if I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Let them ring!” + </p> + <p> + And then it was Ragnhild confessed that the Captain himself had asked her + to stay up that night in case Fruen should want her. + </p> + <p> + This altered the whole aspect of affairs in a moment. Evidently the + Captain had feared something might happen, and set Ragnhild on guard in + case. I put on my blouse again and went across with her to the house. + </p> + <p> + We went upstairs and stood in the passage; we could hear them laughing and + making a noise in Fruen's room. But Fruen herself spoke as clearly as + ever, and was not drunk at all. “Yes, she is,” said Ragnhild, “anyhow, + she's not like herself tonight.” + </p> + <p> + I wished I could have seen her for a moment. + </p> + <p> + We went back to the kitchen and sat down. But I was restless all the time; + after a little I took down the lamp from the wall and told Ragnhild to + follow me. We went upstairs again. + </p> + <p> + “No; go in and ask Fruen to come out here to me,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Why, whatever for?” + </p> + <p> + “I've a message for her.” + </p> + <p> + And Ragnhild knocked at the door and went in. + </p> + <p> + It was only at the last moment I hit on any message to give. I could + simply look her straight in the face and say: “The Captain sent his kind + regards.” [Footnote: <i>Kapteinen bad mig hilse Dem</i>: literally, “The + Captain bade me greet you.” Such a message would not seem quite so + uncalled for in Norway, such greetings (<i>Hilsen</i>) being given and + sent more frequently, and on slighter occasions, than with us.] Would that + be enough? I might say more: “The Captain was obliged to drive himself, + because Nils couldn't spare any one to go.” + </p> + <p> + But a moment can be long at times, and thought a lightning flash. I found + time to reject both these plans and hatch out another before Fruen came. + Though I doubt if my last plan was any better. + </p> + <p> + Fruen asked in surprise: + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you want?” + </p> + <p> + Ragnhild came up, too, and looked at me wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + I turned the lamp towards Fruen's face and said: + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon for coming up so late. I'll be going to the post first thing + tomorrow; I thought if perhaps Fruen had any letters to go?” + </p> + <p> + “Letters? No,” she answered, shaking her head. + </p> + <p> + There was an absent look in her eyes, but she did not look in the least as + if she had been drinking. + </p> + <p> + “No, I've no letters,” she said, and moved to go. + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon, then,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Was it the Captain told you to go to the post?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, I was just going for myself.” + </p> + <p> + She turned and went back to her room. Before she was well through the door + I heard her say to the others: + </p> + <p> + “A nice pretext, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + Ragnhild and I went down again. I had seen her. + </p> + <p> + Oh, but I was humbled now indeed! And it did not ease my mind at all when + Ragnhild incautiously let out a further piece of news. It seemed she had + been romancing before; it was not true about the Captain's having asked + her to keep a look out. I grew more and more convinced in my own mind: + Ragnhild was playing the spy on her own account, for sheer love of the + game. + </p> + <p> + I left her, and, went up to my room. What had my clumsy intrusion gained + for me, after all? A pretext, she had said; clearly she had seen through + it all. Disgusted with myself, I vowed that for the future I would leave + things and people to themselves. + </p> + <p> + I threw myself down fully dressed on the bed. + </p> + <p> + After a while I heard Fru Falkenberg's voice outside in front of the + house; my window was open, and she spoke loudly enough. The engineer was + with her, putting in a word now and again. Fruen was in raptures over the + weather, so fine it was, and such a warm night. Oh, it was lovely out now—ever + so much nicer than indoors! + </p> + <p> + But her voice seemed a trifle less clear now than before. + </p> + <p> + I ran to the window, and saw the pair of them standing by the steps that + led down to the shrubbery. The engineer seemed to have something on his + mind that he had not been able to get said before. “Do listen to me now,” + he said. Then followed a brief and earnest pleading, which was answered—ay, + and rewarded. He spoke as if to one hard of hearing, because she had been + deaf to his words so long; they stood there by the stone steps, neither of + them caring for any one else in the world. Let any listen or watch who + pleased; the night was theirs, the world was theirs, and the spring-time + was about them, drawing them together. He watched her like a cat; every + movement of her body set his blood tingling; he was ready to spring upon + her in a moment. And when it came near to action there was a power of will + in his manner towards her. Ay, the young spark! + </p> + <p> + “I've begged and prayed you long enough,” he said breathlessly. “Yesterday + you all but would; today you're deaf again. You think you and Bror and + Tante [Footnote: “Auntie.” Evidently Captain Bror's lady is meant.] and + the rest are to have a good time and no harm done, while I look on and + play the nice young man? But, by Heaven, you're wrong! Here's you + yourself, a garden of all good things right in front of me, and a fence + ... do you know what I'm going to do now with that silly fence?” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do? No, Hugo, you've had too much to drink this + evening. You're so young. We've both drunk more than we ought,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “And then you play me false into the bargain, with your tricks. You send a + special messenger for a letter that simply can't wait, and at the same + time you're cruel enough to let me think ... to promise me....” + </p> + <p> + “I'll never do it again, Hugo.” + </p> + <p> + “Never do it again? What do you mean by that? When you can go up to a man—yes, + to me, and kiss me like you did.... What's the good of saying you'll never + do it any more; it's done, and a kiss like that's not a thing to forget. I + can feel it still, and it's a mad delight, and I thank you for it You've + got that letter in your dress; let me see it.” + </p> + <p> + “You're so excited, Hugo. No, it's getting late now. We'd better say + good-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you show me that letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Show you the letter? Certainly not!” + </p> + <p> + At that he made a half-spring, as if to take it by force, but checked + himself, and snapped out: + </p> + <p> + “What? You won't? Well, on my word you are.... Mean's not the word for it. + You're something worse....” + </p> + <p> + “Hugo!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are!” + </p> + <p> + “If you <i>will</i> see the letter, here it is!” She thrust her hand into + her blouse, took out the letter, opened it, and waved it at him, + flourishing her innocence. “Here's the letter—from my mother; + there's her signature—look. From mother—and now what have you + to say?” + </p> + <p> + He quailed as if at a blow, and only said: + </p> + <p> + “From your mother. Why, then, it didn't matter at all?” + </p> + <p> + “No; there you are. Oh, but of course it did matter in a way, but + still....” + </p> + <p> + He leaned up against the fence, and began to work it out: + </p> + <p> + “From your mother.... I see. A letter from your mother came and + interrupted us. Do you know what I think? You've been cheating. You've + been fooling me all along. I can see it all now.” + </p> + <p> + She tried again. + </p> + <p> + “It was an important letter. Mama is coming—she's coming here to + stay very soon. And I was waiting to hear.” + </p> + <p> + “You were cheating all the time, weren't you?” he said again. “Let them + bring in the letter just at the right moment, when we'd put out the light. + Yes, that's it. You were just leading me on, to see how far I'd go, and + kept your maid close at hand to protect you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do be sensible! It's ever so late; we must go in.” + </p> + <p> + “Ugh! I had too much to drink up there, I think. Can't talk straight now.” + </p> + <p> + He could think of nothing but the letter, and went on about it again: + </p> + <p> + “For there was no need to have all that mystery about a letter from home. + No; I see it all now. Want to go in, you say? Well then, go in, Fru, by + all means. <i>Godnat, Frue</i>. My dutiful respects, as from a son.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed, and stood watching her with a sneering smile. + </p> + <p> + “A son? Oh yes,” she replied, with sudden emotion. “I am old, yes. And you + are so young, Hugo, that's true. And that's why I kissed you. But I + couldn't be your mother—no, it's only that I'm older, ever so much + older than you. But I'm not quite an old woman yet, and that you should + see if only . . . But I'm older than Elisabet and every one else. Oh, what + am I talking about? Not a bit of it. I don't know what else the years may + have done to me, but they haven't made me an old woman yet. Have they? + What do you think yourself? Oh, but what do you know about it? . . .” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he said softly. “But is there any sense in going on like this? + Here are you, young as you are, with nothing on earth to do all the time + but keep guard over yourself and get others to do the same. And the Lord + in heaven knows you promised me a thing, but it means so little to you; + you take a pleasure in putting me off and beating me down with your great + white wings.” + </p> + <p> + “Great white wings,” she murmured to herself. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you might have great red wings. Look at yourself now, standing there + all lovely as you are, and all for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I think the wine has gone to my head! All for nothing, indeed!” + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly she takes his hand and leads him down the steps. I can hear + her voice: “Why should I care? Does he imagine Elisabet's so much better?” + </p> + <p> + They pass along the path to the summer-house. Here she hesitates, and + stops. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, where are we going?” she asks. “Haha, we must be mad! You wouldn't + have thought I was mad, would you? I'm not, either—that is to say, + yes, I am, now and again. There, the door's locked; very well, we'll go + away again. But what a mean trick to lock the door, when we want to go + in.” + </p> + <p> + Full of bitterness and suspicion, he answered: + </p> + <p> + “Now, you're cheating again. You knew well enough the door was locked.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, must you always think the worst of me? But why should he lock the + door so carefully and have the place all to himself? Yes, I <i>did</i> + know it was locked, and that's why I came with you. I dare not. No, Hugo, + I won't, I mean it. Oh, are you mad? Come back!” + </p> + <p> + She took his hand again and tried to turn back; they stood struggling a + little, for he would not follow. Then in his passion and strength he threw + both arms round her and kissed her again and again. And she weakened ever + more and more, speaking brokenly between the kisses: + </p> + <p> + “I've never kissed any other man before—never! It's true—I + swear it. I've never kissed....” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no,” he answers impatiently, drawing her step by step the way he + will. + </p> + <p> + Outside the summer-house he looses his hold of her a moment, flings + himself, one shoulder forward, heavily against the door, and breaks it + open for the second time. Then in one stride he is beside her once more. + Neither speaks. + </p> + <p> + But even at the door, she checks again—stands clinging to the + door-post, and will not move. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I've never been unfaithful to him yet. I won't; I've never—never....” + </p> + <p> + He draws her to him suddenly, kisses her a full minute, two minutes, a + deep, unbroken kiss; she leans back from the waist, her hand slips where + it holds, and she gives way.... + </p> + <p> + A white mist gathers before my eyes. So ... they have come to it now. Now + he takes her, has his will and joy of her.... + </p> + <p> + A melancholy weariness and rest comes over me. I feel miserable and alone. + It is late; my heart has had its day.... + </p> + <p> + Through the white mist comes a leaping figure; it is Ragnhild coming up + from among the bushes, running with her tongue thrust out. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + The engineer came up to me, nodded <i>Godmorgen</i>, and asked me to mend + the summer-house door. + </p> + <p> + “Is it broken again?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it got broken last night.” + </p> + <p> + It was early for him to be about—no more than halfpast four; we + farm-hands had not yet started for the fields. His eyes showed small and + glittering, as if they burned; likely enough he had not slept all night. + But he said nothing as to how the door had got broken. + </p> + <p> + Not for any thought of him, but for Captain Falkenberg's sake, I went down + at once to the summer-house and mended the door once again. No need for + such haste, maybe; the Captain had a long drive there and back, but it was + close on twenty-four hours now since he started. + </p> + <p> + The engineer came down with me. Without in the least perceiving how it + came about, I found myself thinking well of him; he had broken open that + door last night—quite so, but he was not the man to sneak out of it + after. He and no one other it was who had it mended. Eh, well, perhaps + after all 'twas only my vanity was pleased. I felt flattered at his + trusting to my silence. That was it. That was how I came to think well of + him. + </p> + <p> + “I'm in charge of some timber-rafting on the rivers,” he said. “How long + are you staying here?” + </p> + <p> + “Not for long. Till the field-work's over for the season.” + </p> + <p> + “I could give you work if you'd care about it.” + </p> + <p> + Now this was work I knew nothing of, and, what was more, I liked to be + among field and forest, not with lumbermen and proletariat. However, I + thanked him for the offer. + </p> + <p> + “Very good of you to come and put this right. As a matter of fact, I broke + it open looking for a gun. I wanted to shoot something, and I thought + there might be a gun in there.” + </p> + <p> + I made no answer; it would have pleased me better if he had said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “So I thought I'd ask you before you started out to work,” he said, to + finish off. + </p> + <p> + I put the lock right and set it in its place again, and began nailing up + the woodwork, which was shattered as before. While I was busy with this, + we heard Captain Falkenberg's voice; through the bushes we could see him + unharnessing the horses and leading them in. + </p> + <p> + The engineer gave a start; he fumbled for his watch, and got it out, but + his eyes had grown all big and empty—they could see nothing. + Suddenly he said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I forgot, I must . . .” + </p> + <p> + And he hurried off far down the garden. + </p> + <p> + “So he's going to sneak out of it, after all,” I thought to myself. + </p> + <p> + A moment later the Captain himself came down. He was pale, and covered + with dust, and plainly had not slept, but perfectly sober. He called to me + from a distance: + </p> + <p> + “Hei! how did you get in there?” + </p> + <p> + I touched my cap, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody been breaking in again?” + </p> + <p> + “It was only . . . I just remembered I'd left out a couple of nails here + yesterday. It's all right now. If Captain will lock up again . . .” + </p> + <p> + Fool that I was! If that was the best excuse I could find, he would see + through it all at once. + </p> + <p> + He stood for a few seconds looking at the door with half-closed eyes; he + had his suspicions, no doubt. Then he took out the key, locked up the + place, and walked off. What else could he do? + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <p> + All the guests are gone—stout Captain Bror, the lady with the shawl, + Engineer Lassen as well. And Captain Falkenberg is getting ready to start + for manoeuvres at last. It struck me that he must have applied for leave + on very special grounds, or he would have been away on duty long before + this. + </p> + <p> + We farm-hands have been hard at work in the fields the last few days—a + heavy strain on man and beast. But Nils knew what he was doing; he wanted + to gain time for something else. + </p> + <p> + One day he set me to work cleaning up all round outside the house and + buildings. It took all the time gained and more, but it made the whole + place look different altogether. And that was what Nils wanted—to + cheer the Captain up a little before he left home. And I turned to of my + own accord and fixed up a loose pale or so in the garden fence, + straightened the door of a shed that was wry on its hinges, and such-like. + And the barn bridge, too, needed mending. I thought of putting in new + beams. + </p> + <p> + “Where will you be going when you leave here?” asked the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I'll be on the road for a bit.” + </p> + <p> + “I could do with you here for a while; there's a lot of things that want + doing.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain was thinking of paintwork, maybe?” + </p> + <p> + “Painting, too—yes. I'm not sure about that, though; it would be a + costly business, with the outbuildings and all. No, I was thinking of + something else. Do you know anything about timber, now? Could you mark + down for yourself?” + </p> + <p> + It pleased him, then, to pretend he did not recognize me from the time I + had worked in his timber before. But was there anything left now to fell? + I answered him: + </p> + <p> + “Ay, I'm used to timber. Where would it be this year?” + </p> + <p> + “Anywhere. Wherever you like. There must be something left, surely.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, well.” + </p> + <p> + I laid the new beams in the barn bridge, and when that was done, I took + down the flagstaff and put on a new knob and line. Øvrebø was looking + quite nice already, and Nils said it made him feel better only to look at + it. I got him to talk to the Captain and put in a word about the + paintwork, but the Captain had looked at him with a troubled air and said: + “Yes, yes, I know. But paint's not the only thing we've got to think + about. Wait till the autumn and see how the crops turn out. We've sowed a + lot this year.” + </p> + <p> + But when the flagstaff stood there with the old paint all scraped off, and + a new knob and halliards, the Captain could not help noticing it, and + ordered some paint by telegraph. Though, to be sure there was no such + hurry as all that; a letter by the post had been enough. + </p> + <p> + Two days passed. The paint arrived, but was put aside for the time being; + we had not done with the field-work yet by a long way, though we were + using both the carriage horses for sowing and harrowing, and when it came + to planting potatoes, Nils had to ask up at the house for the maids to + come and help. The Captain gave him leave, said yes to all that was asked, + and went off to manoeuvres. So we were left to ourselves. + </p> + <p> + But there was a big scene between husband and wife before he went. + </p> + <p> + Every one of us on the place knew there was trouble between them, and + Ragnhild and the dairymaid were always talking about it. The fields were + coming on nicely now, and you could see the change in the grassland from + day to day; it was fine spring weather, and all things doing well that + grew, but there was trouble and strife at Øvrebø. Fruen could be seen at + times with a face that showed she had been crying; or other times with an + air of exaggerated haughtiness, as if she cared nothing for any one. Her + mother came—a pale, quiet lady with spectacles and a face like a + mouse. She did not stay long—only a few days; then she went back to + Kristianssand—that was where she lived. The air here did not agree + with her, she said. + </p> + <p> + Ah, that great scene! A bitter final reckoning that lasted over an hour—Ragnhild + told us all about it afterwards. Neither the Captain nor Fruen raised + their voices, but the words came slow and strong. And in their bitterness + the pair of them agreed to go each their own way from now on. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you don't say so!” cried all in the kitchen, clasping their hands. + </p> + <p> + Ragnhild drew herself up and began mimicking: + </p> + <p> + “'You've been breaking into the summer-house again with some one?' said + the Captain. 'Yes,' said Fruen. 'And what more?' he asked. 'Everything,' + said she. The Captain smiled at that and said: 'There's something frank + and open about an answer like that; you can see what is meant almost at + once.' Fruen said nothing to that. 'What you can see in that young puppy, + I don't know—though he did help me once out of a fix.' Fruen looked + at him then, and said: 'Helped you?' 'Yes,' said the Captain; 'backed a + bill for me once.' And Fruen asked: 'I didn't know that.' Then the + Captain: 'Didn't he tell you that?' Fruen shook her head. 'Well, what + then?' he said again. 'Would it have made any difference if he had?' + 'Yes,' said Fruen at first, and then, 'No.' 'Are you fond of him?' he + asked. And she turned on him at once. 'Are you fond of Elisabet?' 'Yes,' + answered the Captain; but he sat smiling after that. 'Well and good,' said + Fruen sharply. Then there was a long silence. The Captain was the first to + speak, 'You were right when you said that about thinking over things. I've + been doing so. I'm not a vicious man, really; queerly enough, I've never + really cared about drinking and playing the fool. And yet I suppose I did, + in a way. But there's an end of it now.' 'So much the better for you,' she + answered sullenly. 'Quite so,' says he again. 'Though it would have been + better if you'd been a bit glad to hear it.' 'You can get Elisabet to do + that,' says she. 'Elisabet,' says he—just that one word—and + shakes his head. Then they said nothing for quite a while. 'What are you + going to do now?' asks the Captain. 'Oh, don't trouble yourself about me,' + said Fruen very slowly. 'I can be a nurse, if you like, or cut my hair + short and be a school teacher, if you like.' 'If I like,' says he; 'no, + decide for yourself.' 'I want to know what you are going to do first,' she + says, 'I'm going to stay here where I am,' he answered, 'but you've turned + yourself out of doors.' And Fruen nodded and said: 'Very well.'” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” from all in the kitchen. “Oh but, <i>Herregud</i>! it will come + right again surely,” said Nils, looking round at the rest of us to see + what we thought. + </p> + <p> + For a couple of days after the Captain had gone, Fruen sat playing the + piano all the time. On the third day Nils drove her to the station; she + was going to stay with her mother at Kristianssand. That left us more + alone than ever. Fruen had not taken any of her things with her; perhaps + she felt they were not really hers; perhaps they had all come from him + originally, and she did not care to have them now. Oh, but it was all a + misery. + </p> + <p> + Ragnhild was not to go away, her mistress had said. But it was cook that + was left in charge of everything, and kept the keys, which was best for + all concerned. + </p> + <p> + On Saturday the Captain came back home on leave. Nils said he never used + to do that before. Fine and upright in his bearing he was, for all that + his wife was gone away, and he was sober as could be. He gave me orders, + very short and clear, about the timber; came out with me and showed me + here and there. “Battens, down to smallest battens, a thousand dozen. I + shall be away three weeks this time,” he said. On the Sunday afternoon he + went off again. He was more determined in his manner now—more like + himself. + </p> + <p> + We were through with the field-work at last, and the potato-planting was + done; after that, Nils and the lad could manage the daily work by + themselves, and I went up to my new work among the timber. + </p> + <p> + Good days these were for me, all through. Warm and rainy at first, making + the woods all wet, but I went out all the same, and never stayed in on + that account. Then a spell of hot weather set in, and in the light + evenings, after I got home from work, it was a pleasure to go round + mending and seeing to little things here and there—a gutter-pipe, a + window, and the like. At last I got the escape ladder up and set to + scraping the old paint from the north wall of the barn—it was + flaking away there of itself. It would be a neat piece of work if I could + get the barn done this summer after all, and the paint was there all + ready. + </p> + <p> + But there was another thing that made me weary at times of the work and + the whole place. It was not the same working there now as when the Captain + and Fruen were home; I found here confirmation of the well-known truth + that it is well for a man to have some one over him at his work, that is, + if he is not himself in charge as leading man. Here were the maids now, + going about the place with none to look after them. Ragnhild and the + dairymaid were always laughing and joking noisily at meal-times and + quarreling now and again between themselves; the cook's authority was not + always enough to keep the peace, and this often made things uncomfortable. + Also, it seemed that some one must have been talking to Lars Falkenberg, + my good old comrade that had been, and made him suspicious of me now. + </p> + <p> + Lars came in one evening and took me aside; he had come to say he forbade + me to show myself on his place again. His manner was comically + threatening. + </p> + <p> + Now, I had not been there more than a few times with washing—maybe + half a dozen times in all; he had been out, but Emma and I had talked a + bit of old things and new. The last time I was there Lars came home + suddenly and made a scene the moment he got inside the door, because Emma + was sitting on a stool in her petticoat. “It's too hot for a skirt,” she + said. “Ho, yes, and your hair all down your back—too hot to put it + up, I suppose?” he retorted. Altogether he was in a rage with her. I said + good-night to him as I left, but he did not answer. + </p> + <p> + I had not been there since. Then what made him come over like this all of + a sudden? I set it down as more of Ragnhild's mischievous work. + </p> + <p> + When he had told me in so many words he forbade me to enter his house, + Lars nodded and looked at me; to his mind, I ought now to be as one dead. + </p> + <p> + “And I've heard Emma's been down here,” he went on. “But she'll come no + more, I fancy, after this.” + </p> + <p> + “She may have been here once or twice for the washing.” + </p> + <p> + “Ho, yes, the washing, of course. And you coming up yourself Heaven knows + how many times a week—more washing! Bring up a shirt one day and a + pair of drawers the next, that's what you do. But you can get Ragnhild to + do your washing now.” + </p> + <p> + “Well and good.” + </p> + <p> + “Aha, my friend, I know you and your little ways. Going and visiting and + making yourself sweet to folk when you find them all alone. But not for + me, thank you!” + </p> + <p> + Nils comes up to us now, guessing, no doubt, what's the trouble, and ready + to put in a word for me, like the good comrade he is. He catches the last + words, and gives me a testimonial on the spot, to the effect that he's + never seen anything wrong about me all the time I've been on the place. + </p> + <p> + But Lars Falkenberg bridles up at once and puts on airs, looking Nils up + and down with contempt. He has a grudge against Nils already. For though + Lars had managed well enough since he got his own little place up in the + wood, he had never equalled Nils' work here on the Captain's land. And + Lars Falkenberg feels himself aggrieved. + </p> + <p> + “What have you got to come cackling about?” he asks. + </p> + <p> + “I'm saying what is the truth, that's all,” answers Nils. + </p> + <p> + “Ho, are you, you goat? If you want me to wipe the floor with you, I'll do + it on the spot!” + </p> + <p> + Nils and I walked away, but Lars still shouted after us. And there was + Ragnhild, of course, sniffing at the lilacs as we passed. + </p> + <p> + That evening I began to think about moving on again as soon as I had + finished my work in the timber. When the three weeks were up, the Captain + came back as he had said. He noticed I had scraped the northern wall of + the barn, and was pleased with me for that. “End of it'll be you'll have + to paint that again, too,” he said. I told him how far I had got with the + timber; there was not much left now. “Well, keep at it and do some more,” + was all he said. Then he went back to his duty again for another three + weeks. + </p> + <p> + But I did not care to stay another three weeks at Øvrebø as things were + now. I marked down a few score dozen battens, and reckoned it all out on + my paper—that would have to do. But it was still too early for a man + to live in the forests and hills; the flowers were come, but there were no + berries yet. Song and twitter of birds at their mating, flies and midges + and moths, but no cloudberries, no angelica. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + In town. + </p> + <p> + I came in to Engineer Lassen, Inspector of rafting sections, and he took + me on as he had promised, though it was late in the season now. To begin + with, I am to make a tour of the water and see where the logs have + gathered thickest, noting down the places on a chart. He is quite a good + fellow, the engineer, only still very young. He gives me over-careful + instructions about things he fancies I don't know already. It makes him + seem a trifle precocious. + </p> + <p> + And so this man has helped Captain Falkenberg out of a mess? The Captain + was sorry for it now, no doubt, anxious to free himself from the debt—that + was why he was cutting down his timber to the last lot of battens, I + thought. And I wished him free of it myself. I was sorry now I had not + stayed on marking down a few more days, that he might have enough and to + spare. What if it should prove too little, after all? + </p> + <p> + Engineer Lassen was a wealthy man, apparently. He lived at an hotel, and + had two rooms there. I never got farther than the office myself, but even + there he had a lot of costly things, books and papers, silver things for + the writing-table, gilt instruments and things; a light overcoat, + silk-lined, hung on the wall. Evidently a rich man, and a person of + importance in the place. The local photographer had a large-sized + photograph of him in the show-case outside. I saw him, too, out walking in + the afternoons with the young ladies of the town. Being in charge of all + the timber traffic, he generally walked down to the long bridge—it + was four hundred and sixty feet—across the foss, halted there, and + stood looking up and down the river. Just by the bridge piers, and on the + flat rocks below them, was where the logs were most inclined to jam, and + he kept a gang of lumbermen regularly at hand for this work alone. + Standing on the bridge there, watching the men at work among the logs, he + looked like an admiral on board a ship, young and strong, with power to + command. The ladies with him stopped willingly, and stood there on the + bridge, though the rush of water was often enough to make one giddy. And + the roar of it was such that they had to put their heads together when + they spoke. + </p> + <p> + But just in this position, at his post on the bridge, standing there and + turning this way and that, there was something smallish and unhandsome + about his figure; his sports jacket, fitting tightly at the waist, seemed + to pinch, and showed up over-heavy contours behind. + </p> + <p> + The very first evening, after he'd given me my orders to start off up the + river next day, I met him out walking with two ladies. At sight of me he + stopped, and kept his companions waiting there, too, while he gave me the + same instructions all over again. “Just as well I happened to meet you,” + he said. “You'll start off early, then, tomorrow morning, take a hooking + pole with you, and clear all the logs you can manage. If you come across a + big jam, mark it down on the chart—you've got a copy of the chart, + haven't you? And keep on up river till you meet another man coming down. + But remember to mark in red, not blue. And let me see how well you can + manage.—A man I've got to work under me,” he explained to the + ladies. “I really can't be bothered running up and down all the time.” + </p> + <p> + So serious he was about it all; he even took out a notebook and wrote + something down. He was very young, and could not help showing off a little + with two fair ladies to look on. + </p> + <p> + Next morning I got away early. It was light at four, and by that time I + was a good way up the river. I carried food with me, and my hooking pole—which + is like a boat-hook really. + </p> + <p> + No young, growing timber here, as on Captain Falkenberg's land; the ground + was stony and barren, covered with heather and pine needles for miles + round. They had felled too freely here; the sawmills had taken over much, + leaving next to no young wood. It was a melancholy country to be in. + </p> + <p> + By noon I had cleared a few small jams, and marked down a big one. Then I + had my meal, with a drink of water from the river. A bit of a rest, and I + went on again, on till the evening. Then I came upon a big jam, where a + man was already at work among the logs. This was the man I had been told + to look out for. I did not go straight up to him at first, but stopped to + look at him. He worked very cautiously, as if in terror of his life; he + was even afraid of getting his feet wet. It amused me to watch him for a + little. The least chance of being carried out into the stream on a + loosened log was enough to make him shift at once. At last I went up close + and looked at him—why ... yes, it was my old friend, Grindhusen. + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen, that I had worked with as a young man at Skreia—my + partner in the digging of a certain well six years before. + </p> + <p> + And now to meet him here. + </p> + <p> + We gave each other greeting, and sat down on the logs to talk, asking and + answering questions for an hour or more. Then it was too late to get any + more done that day. We got up and went back a little way up the river, + where Grindhusen had a bit of a log hut. We crept in, lit a fire, made + some coffee, and had a meal. Then, going outside again, we lit our pipes + and lay down in the heather. + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen had aged, and was in no better case than I myself; he did not + care to think of the gay times in our youth, when we had danced the whole + night through. He it was that had once been as a red-haired wolf among the + girls, but now he was thoroughly cowed by age and toil, and had not even a + smile. If I had only had a drop of spirits with me it might have livened + him up a little, but I had none. + </p> + <p> + In the old days he had been a stiff-necked fellow, obstinate as could be; + now he was easy-going and stupid. “Ay, maybe so,” was his answer to + everything. “Ay, you're right,” he would say. Not that he meant it; only + that life had taught him to seek the easiest way. So life does with all of + us, as the years go by—but it was an ill thing to see, meeting him + so. + </p> + <p> + Ay, he got along somehow, he said, but he was not the man he used to be. + He'd been troubled with gout of late, and pains in the chest as well. His + pains in the chest were cardialgic. But it was none so bad as long as he'd + the work here for Engineer Lassen. He knew the river right up, and worked + here all spring and early summer in his hut. And as for clothes, he'd + nothing to wear out save breeches and blouse all the year round. Had a bit + of luck, though, last year, he said suddenly. Found a sheep with nobody to + own it. Sheep in the forest? Up that way, he said, pointing. He'd had meat + on Sundays half through the winter off that sheep. Then he'd his folks in + America as good as any one else: children married there and well-to-do. + They sent him a little to help the first year or so, but now they'd + stopped; it was close on two years now since he'd heard from them at all. + Eyah! well, that's how things were now with him and his wife. And getting + old.... + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen lapsed into thought. + </p> + <p> + A dull, rushing sound from the forest and the river, like millions of + nothings flowing and flowing on. No birds here, no creatures hopping + about, but if I turn up a stone, I may find some insect under it. + </p> + <p> + “Wonder what these tiny things live on?” I say. + </p> + <p> + “What tiny things?” says Grindhusen. “Those? That's only ants and things.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a sort of beetle,” I tell him. “Put one on the grass and roll a + stone on top of it, and it'll live.” + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen answers: “Ay, maybe so,” but thinking never a word of what I've + said, and I think the rest to myself; but put an ant there under the stone + as well, and very soon there'll be no beetle left. + </p> + <p> + And the rush of the forest and river goes on: 'tis one eternity that + speaks with another, and agrees. But in the storms and in thunder they are + at war. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, so it is,” says Grindhusen at last. “Two years come next fourteenth + of August since the last letter came. There was a smart photograph in, + from Olea, it was, that lives in Dakota, as they call it. A mighty fine + photograph it was, but I never got it sold. Eyah, but we'll manage + somehow, please the Lord,” says Grindhusen, with a yawn. “What was I going + to say now?... What is he paying for the work?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + But Grindhusen looks at me suspiciously, thinking it is only that I will + not say. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, well, 'tis all the same to me,” he says. “I was only asking.” + </p> + <p> + To please him, I try to guess a wage. “I dare say he'll give me a couple + of Kroner a day, or perhaps three, d'you think?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, dare say you may,” he answers enviously. “Two Kroner's all I get, and + I'm an old hand at the work.” + </p> + <p> + Then fancying, perhaps, I may go telling of his grumbling, he starts off + in praise of Engineer Lassen, saying what a splendid fellow he is in every + way. “He'll do what's fair by me, that I know. Trust him for that! Why, + he's been as good as a father to me, and that's the truth!” + </p> + <p> + It sounds quaint, indeed, to hear Grindhusen, half his teeth gone with + age, talking of the young engineer as a father. I felt pretty sure I could + find out a good deal about my new employer from this quarter, but I did + not ask. + </p> + <p> + “He didn't say anything about me coming down into town?” asked Grindhusen. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “He sends up for me now and again, and when I get there, it's not for + anything particular—only wants to have a bit of a chat with me, + that's all. Ay, a fine fellow is the engineer!” + </p> + <p> + It is getting late. Grindhusen yawns again, creeps into the hut and lies + down. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Next morning we cleared the jam. “Come up with me my way a bit,” says + Grindhusen. And I went. After an hour's walking, we sighted the fields and + buildings of a hill farm up among the trees. And suddenly I recollect the + sheep Grindhusen had found. + </p> + <p> + “Was it up this way you found that sheep?” I ask. + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen looks at me. + </p> + <p> + “Here? No, that was ever so far away—right over toward Trovatn.” + </p> + <p> + “But Trovatn's only in the next parish, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's what I say. It's ever so far away from here.” + </p> + <p> + But now Grindhusen does not care to have my company farther; he stops, and + thanks me for coming up so far. I might just as well go up to the farm + with him, and I say so; but Grindhusen, it seems, is not going up to the + farm at all—he never did. And I'd just have an easy day back into + town, starting now. + </p> + <p> + So I turned and went back the way I had come. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI + </h2> + <p> + It was no sort of work this for a man; I was not satisfied. Nothing but + walk, walk up and down the river, clearing a few logs here and there, and + then on again. And after each trip, back to my lodging-house in the town. + All this time I had but one man to talk to—the boots or porter at + the hotel where the engineer was staying. He was a burly fellow, with huge + fists, and eyes like a child's. He had fallen down and hurt his head as a + youngster, he said, and never got on in life beyond hauling things and + carrying heavy loads. I had a talk with him now and again, but found no + one else to talk to in the town. + </p> + <p> + That little town! + </p> + <p> + When the river is high, a mighty roar of sound goes rushing through the + place, dividing it in two. Folk live in their little wooden houses north + or south of the roar, and manage, no doubt, to make ends meet from day to + day. Of all the many children crossing the bridge and running errands to + the shops, there are none that go naked, probably few that suffer want, + and all are decent looking enough. And here are big, tall, half-grown + girls, the quaintest of all, with their awkward movements, and their + laughter, and their earnest occupation with their own little affairs. Now + and again they stop on the bridge to watch the lumbermen at work among the + logs below, and join in the song of the men as they haul—“<i>Hoi-aho!</i>”—and + then they giggle and nudge one another and go on. + </p> + <p> + But there are no birds here. + </p> + <p> + Strange, that there should be no birds! On quiet evenings, at sunset-time, + the great enclosed pool lies there with its deep waters unmoved; moths and + midges hover above it, the trees on the banks are reflected there, but + there are no birds in the trees. Perhaps it is because of the roar of the + water, that drowns all other sound; birds cannot thrive there, where none + can hear another's song. And so it comes about that the only winged + creatures here are flies and moths. But God alone knows why even the crows + and common birds shun us and our town. + </p> + <p> + Every small town has its daily event that every one turns out for—and, + as for that, the big towns too, with their promenades. Out Vestland way it + is the postpacket. Living in Vestland, it's hard to keep away from the + quay when the little vessel comes in. Here, in this inland town, with a + dozen miles or more to the sea, and nothing but rocks and hills all about, + here we have the river. Has the water risen or fallen in the night? Will + they be clearing logs from the booms today? Oh, we are all so interested! + True, we have a little railway as well, but that doesn't count for much. + The line ends here; it runs as far as it can go, and then stops, like a + cork in a bottle. And there's something cosy and pleasant about the tiny + carriages on the trains; but folk seem ashamed of them, they are so + ridiculously old and worse for wear, and there's not even room to sit + upright with a hat on! + </p> + <p> + Not but what we've other things besides—a market, and a church, and + schools, and post office, and all. And then there's the sawmills and works + by the riverside. But as for grocery shops and stores, there's more than + you'd believe. + </p> + <p> + We've so many things altogether. I am a stranger here myself—as + indeed I am everywhere—yet I could reckon up a host of things we + have besides the river. Was the town a big place once upon a time? No, it + has been a little town for two hundred and fifty years. But there was once + a great man over all the smaller folk—one who rode lordly fashion + with a servant behind him—a great landowner. Now we are all equal; + saving, perhaps, with Engineer Lassen, this something-and-twenty-year-old + Inspector of rafting sections, who can afford two rooms at his hotel. + </p> + <p> + I have nothing to do, and find myself pondering over the following matter: + </p> + <p> + Here is a big house, somewhere about a couple of hundred years old, the + house of the wealthy Ole Olsen Ture. It is of enormous size, a house of + two stories, the length of a whole block; it is used as a depot now. In + the days when that house was built there was no lack of giant timber + hereabouts; three beams together make the height of a man, and the wood is + hard as iron; nothing can bite on it. And inside the building are halls + and cells as in a castle. Here Ture the Great ruled like a prince in his + day. + </p> + <p> + But times changed. Houses were made not only big, not only to live in for + shelter from cold and rain, but also to look on with pleasure to the eye. + On the opposite side of the river stands an old archaic building with + carefully balanced verandah in the Empire style, pillars, fronton, and + all. It is not faultless, but handsome all the same; it stands out like a + white temple on the green hillside. One other house I have seen and + stopped to look at; one near the market-place. Its double street door has + old handles and carved rococo mirrors, but the frames cannelated in the + style of Louis XVI. The cartouche above the doorway bears the date 1795 in + Arabic numerals—that was our transition period here! So there were + folk here at that time who kept in touch with the times, without the aid + of steam and telegraph. + </p> + <p> + But later on, again, houses were built to keep off rain and snow and + nothing else. They were neither big nor beautiful to look at. The idea was + to put up some sort of a dwelling, Swiss fashion—a place to keep a + wife and children in, and that was all. And we learned from a miserable + little people up in the Alps, a people that throughout its history has + never been or done anything worth speaking of—we learned to pay no + heed to what a homestead really looked like, as long as it met with the + approval of loafing tourist. Is there something of the calm and beauty of + a temple about that white building on the hillside? And pray, what's the + use of it if there is? And the great big house that dates from the time of + Ole Olsen Ture, why hasn't it been pulled down long ago? There would be + room for a score of cheap dwellings on the site. + </p> + <p> + Things have gone downhill, gone to the depths. And now the little + cobbler-soul can rejoice—not because we're all grown equally great, + but because we're all equally small. 'Tis our affair! + </p> + <p> + The long bridge is pleasant to walk on because it is paved with planks, + and even as a floor; all the young ladies can walk gracefully here. And + the bridge is light and open at the sides, making an excellent lookout + place for us inquisitive folk. + </p> + <p> + Down on the raft of tangled logs the men are shouting, as they strain to + free the timber that has caught and stuck fast among the rocks and + boulders in the river-bed. Stick after stick comes floating down and joins + the mass already gathered; the jam grows and grows; at times there may be + a couple of hundred dozen balks hung up at one spot. But if all goes well, + the gang can clear the jam in time. And if fate will have it ill, some + unlucky lumberman may be carried down as well, down the rapids to his + death. + </p> + <p> + There are ten men with boat-hooks on the jam, all more or less wet from + falling in. The foreman points out the log next to be freed, but we, + watching from the bridge, can see now and again that all the gang are not + agreed. There is no hearing what is said, but we can see some of them are + inclined to get another log out first; one of the old hands protests. + Knowing his speech as I do, I fancy I can hear him say stubbornly and + calmly: “I doubt we'd better see and get <i>that</i> one clear first.” Ten + pairs of eyes are turned towards the stick he has chosen, tracing the lie + of it in among its tangled fellows; if the men agree, ten boat-hooks are + thrust into it. Then for a moment the poles stand out from the log like + the strings of a harp; a mighty “<i>Ho!</i>” from the gang, a short, tense + haul, and it moves a trifle forward. A fresh grip, another shout, and + forward again. It is like watching half a score of ants about a twig. And + at last the freed log slides out and away down the foss. + </p> + <p> + But there are logs that are almost immovable, and often it is just one of + the worst that has to be cleared before anything else can be done. Then + the men spread out and surround it, fixing their hooks wherever they can + get a sight of it in the tangle, some hauling, others thrusting outward; + if it is dry, they splash water over it to make it slippery. And here the + poles are nowise regularly set like harp-strings, but lie crosswise at all + angles like a cobweb. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes the shouting of the gang can be heard all day long from the + river, silenced only for meals; ay, it may happen that it goes on for days + together. Then suddenly a new sound falls on the ear: the stroke of the + ax; some devil of a log has fixed itself so cunningly there is no hauling + it free, and it has to be cut through. It does not take many strokes to do + it, for the pressure on it already is enormous; soon it breaks, the great + confused mass yields, and begins to move. All the men are on their guard + now, holding back to see what is coming next; if the part they are + standing on shows signs of breaking loose, they must leap with catlike + swiftness to a safer spot. Their calling is one of daily and hourly peril; + they carry their lives in their hands. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + But the little town is a living death. + </p> + <p> + It is pitiful to see such a dead place, trying to pretend it is alive. It + is the same with Bruges, the great city of the past, and with many cities + in Holland, in South Germany, the north of France, the Orient. Standing in + the marketplace of such a town one cannot but think: “Once, once upon a + time this was a living place; there are still human beings walking in the + streets!” + </p> + <p> + Strange, this town of ours is hidden away, shut in by the hills—and + yet for all that it has no doubt its local feminine beauty and its local + masculine ambition just as all other towns. Only it is such a queer, + outlandish life that is lived here, with little crooked fingers, with eyes + as of a mouse, and ears filled day and night with the eternal rushing of + the waters. A beetle on its way in the heather, a stub of yellow grass + sticks up here and there—huge trees they seem to the beetle's eye! + Two local merchants walk across the bridge. Going to the post, no doubt. + They have this very day decided to go halves in a whole sheet of stamps, + buying them all at once for the sake of the rebate on a quantity! + </p> + <p> + Oh, those local tradesmen! + </p> + <p> + Each day they hang out their stocks of ready-made clothes, and dress their + windows with their stuffs and goods, but rarely do I see a customer go in. + I thought to myself at first: But there must surely be some one now and + then—a peasant from somewhere up the valley, coming into town. And I + was right; I saw that peasant today, and it was strange and pleasant to + see him. + </p> + <p> + He was dressed like the pictures in our folk-tales—a little short + jacket with silver buttons, and grey breeches with a black leather seat. + He was driving a tiny little haycart with a tiny little horse, and up in + the cart was a little red-flanked cow—on its way to the butcher's, I + suppose. All three—man, horse, and cow—were undersized; + palaeolithic figures; dwarf creatures from the underworld on a visit to + the haunts of men. I almost looked to see them vanish before my eyes. All + of a sudden the cow in its Lilliputian cart utters a throaty roar—and + even that unromantic sound was like a voice from another world. + </p> + <p> + A couple of hours later I come upon the man again, minus horse and cow: he + is wandering round among the shops on his errands. I follow him to the + saddler's—saddler and harness-maker Vogt is also a glazier, and + deals in leather as well. This merchant of many parts offers to serve me + first, but I explain that I must look at a saddle, and some glass, and a + trifle of leather first, I am in no hurry. So he turns to the elfin + countryman. + </p> + <p> + The two are old acquaintances. + </p> + <p> + “So here's you come to town?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, that's the way of it.” + </p> + <p> + And so on through the whole rigmarole; wind and weather, and the state of + the roads; wife and children getting on as usual; season and crops; + river's fallen so much the last week; butchers' prices; hard times + nowadays, etc. Then they begin trying the leather, pinching and feeling + and bending it about and talking it over. And when at last a strip is cut + off and weighed, the mannikin finds it a marvel, sure, that ever it could + weigh so much! Reckon it at a round figure, those little bits of weights + aren't worth counting! And the two of them argue and split over this for a + good solid while, as is right and proper. When at last it comes to paying + for the goods, a fantastic leather purse is brought to light, a thing out + of a fairy tale. Slowly and cautiously the heavy fist draws forth the + coins, one <i>skilling</i> after another; both parties count the money + over again and again, then the mannikin closes his purse with an anxious + movement; that is all he has! + </p> + <p> + “Why, you've coin and paper too; I saw a note in there.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, I'll not break the note.” + </p> + <p> + More reckoning and arguing—a long business this; each gives way a + little, they split the difference—and the deal is over. + </p> + <p> + “And a terrible heap to pay for a bit of leather,” says the purchaser. And + the dealer answers: + </p> + <p> + “Nay, you've got it at a bargain. But don't forget me next time you're in + town.” + </p> + <p> + Towards evening I meet the mannikin once more, driving home again after + his venture into the world. The cow has been left behind at the butcher's. + There are parcels and sacks in the cart, but the little man himself jogs + along behind, the leather seat of his breeches stretching to a triangle at + every step. And whether for thoughtlessness, or an overweight of thought + after all these doings and dealings, he wears a rolled-up strip of sole + leather like a ring about one arm. + </p> + <p> + So money has flowed into the town once more; a peasant has come in and + sold his cow, and spent the price of it again in goods. The event is + noticed everywhere at once: the town's three lawyers notice it, the three + little local papers notice it; money is circulating more freely of late. + Unproductive—but it helps the town to live. + </p> + <p> + Every week the little local papers advertise town properties for sale; + every week a list is issued by the authorities of houses to be sold in + liquidation of the unpaid tax. What then? Ah, but mark how many properties + come on the market that way! The barren, rocky valley with its great river + cannot feed this moribund town; a cow now and again is not enough. And so + it is that the properties are given up, the Swiss-pattern houses, the + dwellings and shelters. Out Vestland way, if ever a house in one of the + little towns should chance to come up for sale, it is a great event; the + inhabitants flock together on the quay to talk it over. Here, in our + little town beyond all hope, it occasions no remark when another wearied + hand leaves hold of what it had. My turn now—'twill be another's + before long. And none finds it worth while sorrowing much for that. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Engineer Lassen came to my lodging and said: + </p> + <p> + “Put on your cap and come with me to the station to fetch a trunk.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I. “I'm not going to do that.” + </p> + <p> + “Not going to....” + </p> + <p> + “No. There's a porter at the hotel for that sort of thing. Let him earn + the money.” + </p> + <p> + It was quite enough. The engineer was very young; he looked at me and said + nothing. But, being obstinate by nature, he would not give up at once; he + changed his tone. + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather have you,” he said. “I've a reason for it, and I wish you + would.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a different matter. Then I will.” + </p> + <p> + I put on my cap, and I am ready; he walks on ahead, and I follow behind. + Ten minutes waiting at the station, and the train comes in. It consists of + three toy carriages, and a few passengers tumble out. In the rear carriage + is a lady trying to alight; the engineer hurries to assist her. + </p> + <p> + I paid no great heed to what was happening. The lady was veiled and wore + gloves; a light coat she handed to her escort. She seemed embarrassed at + first, and said only a few words in a low voice, but he was quite the + reverse, talking loudly and freely all the time. And, when he begged her + to take off her veil, she grew bolder, and did as he said. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know me now?” she said. And suddenly I pricked up my ears; it was + Fru Falkenberg's voice. I turned round and looked her in the face. + </p> + <p> + It is no easy matter to be old and done with and behave as such. The + moment I realized who it was standing there I could think of nothing but + my age-worn self, and how to stand and bow with ease and respect. Now, I + had among my possessions a blouse, and breeches of brown corduroy such as + labourers wear in the south; an excellent, well-looking suit, and new. + But, alas! I had not put it on today. And the lack of it at that moment + irked me. I was down-hearted at the thought. And, while the two stood + there talking, I fell to wondering why the engineer had wanted me so + particularly to come with him to the station. Could it be for the matter + of a few <i>skilling</i> to the porter? Or was it to show off with a + servant at his heels? Or had he thought that Fruen would be pleased to + have some one she knew in attendance? If the last, then he was greatly + mistaken; Fruen started in evident displeasure at finding me here, where + she had thought, perhaps, to be safely concealed. I heard the engineer + say: “I've got a man here, he'll take your luggage down. Have you the + ticket?” But I made no sign of greeting. I turned away. + </p> + <p> + And afterwards I triumphed over him in my miserable soul, thinking how + annoyed she would be with him for his want of tact. He brought up with him + a man who had been in her employ when she had a home; but that man had + some delicacy of feeling, he turned away, pretending not to know her! Lord + knows what the woman found to run after in this tight-waisted youth with + the heavy contours behind. + </p> + <p> + There are fewer people on the platform now; the little toy waggons are + rolled away and shunted about to build another train; at last we are left + with the whole place to ourselves. Fruen and the engineer stand talking. + What has she come for? Heaven knows! Young Lovelace, perhaps, has had a + spasm of longing and wants her again. Or is she come of her own accord to + tell him what has happened, and ask his advice? Like as not the end of it + will be they fix things up and get married some day. Mr. Hugo Lassen is, + of course, a chivalrous gentleman, and she his one and only love. And then + comes the time when she should walk on roses and live happily ever after! + </p> + <p> + “No, really, it would never do!” he exclaims, with a laugh. “If you won't + be my aunt, then you'll have to be my cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “S-sh!” whispers Fruen. “Can't you get rid of that man there?” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon the engineer comes up to me with the luggage receipt in his + hand, and in his lordliest manner, as an Inspector of Waterways addressing + a gang of lumbermen, he says: + </p> + <p> + “Bring this along to the hotel.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” I answered, touching my cap. + </p> + <p> + I carried down the trunk, thinking as I went. He had actually invited her + to pass as his aunt! Visibly older she might be than he; still, here again + he had shown himself wanting in tact. I would not have said such a thing + myself. I would have declared to all and sundry: “Behold, here is come a + bright angel to visit King Hugo; see how young and beautiful she is; mark + the slow, heavy turn of her grey eyes; ay, a weighty glance! But there is + a shimmer of sea-fire in her hair—I love her! Mark her, too, when + she speaks, a mouth good and fine, and with ever and again a little + helpless look and smile. I am King Hugo this day, and she is my love!” + </p> + <p> + The trunk was no heavier than many another burden, but there were bronzed + iron bands round, and one of them tore a hole in my blouse at the back. So + I thanked my stars I had not worn my better one. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII + </h2> + <p> + Some days passed. I was growing tired of my empty occupation, which + consisted in doing nothing but loaf about the place. I went to the foreman + of the gang and asked him to take me on as a lumberman, but he refused. + </p> + <p> + These gentlemen of the proletariat think a good deal of themselves; they + look down on farm-workers, and will have nothing to do with them. They are + ever on the move, going from one waterway to another, drawing their wages + in cash, and spending a fair part of the same in drink. Then, too, they + are more popular among the girls. It is the same with men working on the + roads or railways, with all factory-hands; even the mechanic is looked + down upon, and as for the farm-hand, he is a very slave! + </p> + <p> + Now, I knew I could be pretty sure of a place in the gang any day if I + cared to ask the engineer. But, in the first place, I had no wish to be + further indebted to him, and in the second, I might be sure that if I did, + my friends the lumbermen would make my life a misery until I had gone + through all the trouble of making myself respected for my deserts. And + that might take longer than I cared about. + </p> + <p> + And then one day the engineer came to me with instructions that I was to + observe with care. He spoke politely and sensibly this time: + </p> + <p> + “We've had no rain for a long time now; the river's getting steadily + lower, and the logs are piling up on the way down. I want you to tell the + man above and the one below to be extra careful about their work just now, + and you yourself, of course, will do the same.” + </p> + <p> + “We're sure to get rain before long,” I said, for the sake of saying + something. + </p> + <p> + “That may be,” he answered, with the intense earnestness of youth, “but I + must act all the same as if there were never to be rain again. Now + remember every word I've said. I can't be everywhere at once myself, more + especially now that I've a visitor.” + </p> + <p> + I answered him with a face as serious as his own that I would do my very + best. + </p> + <p> + So I was still bound to my idling occupation after all, and wandered up + and down the river as before with my boat-hook and my rations. For my own + satisfaction I cleared away bigger and bigger jams unaided, sang to myself + as if I were a whole gang, and worked hard enough for many men; also I + carried the new instructions to Grindhusen, and frightened him properly. + </p> + <p> + But then came the rain. + </p> + <p> + And now the sticks went dancing down through channel and rapids, like + huge, pale serpents hurrying, hurrying on, now head, now tail in air. + </p> + <p> + Easy days these for my engineer! + </p> + <p> + For myself, I was ill at ease in the town and in my lodging there. I had a + little room to myself, but one could hear every sound in the place, and + there was little rest or comfort. Moreover, I found myself outdone in + everything by the young lumbermen who lodged there. + </p> + <p> + I patroled the river-bank regularly those days, though there was little or + nothing for me to do there. I would steal away and sit in hiding under an + over-hanging rock, hugging the thought of how I was old, and forsaken by + all; in the evenings I wrote many letters to people I knew, just to have + some one to talk to; but I did not send the letters. + </p> + <p> + Joyless days were these. My chief pleasure was to go about noticing every + little trifle in the town, wherever it might be, and thinking a little + upon each. + </p> + <p> + But was my engineer so free from care? I began to doubt it. + </p> + <p> + Why was he no longer to be seen out early and late with this new cousin of + his? He would even stop another young lady on the bridge and pass the time + of day—a thing he had not done this fortnight gone. I had seen him + with Fru Falkenberg once or twice; she looked so young and prettily + dressed, and happy—a little reckless, laughing out loud. That's what + it's like when a woman first steps aside, I thought to myself; but + to-morrow or the day after it may be different! And when I saw her again + later on I was annoyed with her; there was something overbold about her + dress and manner, the old charm and sweetness were gone. Where was the + tenderness now in her eyes? Nothing but bravado! And furiously I told + myself that her eyes shone like a pair of lamps at the door of a music + hall. + </p> + <p> + By the look of things the couple had begun to weary of each other, since + he had taken to going out alone, and she spend much of her time sitting + looking out of the window in the hotel. And this, no doubt, was why stout + Captain Bror made his appearance once again; his mission was perhaps to + bring jollity and mirth to others besides himself. And this jovial lump of + deformity certainly did his best; his guffaws of laughter rang through the + little town one whole night long. Then his leave expired, and he had to go + back to drill and duty—Fru Falkenberg and her Hugo were left to + themselves once more. + </p> + <p> + One day, while I was in a shop, I heard that there had been some slight + difference of opinion between Engineer Lassen and his cousin. A commercial + traveller was telling the shopkeeper all about it. But so great was the + general respect for the wealthy engineer throughout the town that the + shopman would hardly believe the story, and questioned the scandal-monger + doubtingly. + </p> + <p> + “It must have been in fun, I'm sure. Did you hear it yourself? When was + it?” + </p> + <p> + The traveller himself did not dare to make more of it. + </p> + <p> + “My room's next to his,” he said, “so I couldn't help hearing it last + night. They were arguing; I don't say it was a quarrel—lord, no! as + delicate as could be. She only said he was different now from what he had + been; that he'd changed somehow. And he said it wasn't his fault, he + couldn't do as he liked here in town. Then she asked him to get rid of + somebody she didn't like—one of his men, a lumberman, I suppose. And + he promised he would.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there you are—just nothing at all,” said the shopkeeper. + </p> + <p> + But the traveller had heard more, I fancy, than he cared to say. I could + tell as much by his looks. + </p> + <p> + And had I not noticed myself how the engineer had changed? He had talked + out loud so cheerfully at the station that first day; now he could be + obstinately silent when he did go so far as to take Fruen for a walk down + to the bridge. I could see well enough how they stood looking each their + separate ways. Lord God in heaven, but love is a fleeting thing! + </p> + <p> + All went well enough at first. She said, no doubt, that it was quite a + nice little place, with a great big river and the rapids, and so strange + to hear the roar of the waters all the time; and here was a real little + town with streets and people in—“And then you here, too!” And he of + course, would answer: “Yes, and you!” Oh, they were everything to each + other at first! But then they grew weary of good things; they took too + much—took love in handfuls, such was their foolishness. And more and + more clearly he realized that things were getting awry; the town was such + a little place, and this cousin of his a stranger—he could not keep + on being her attendant squire for ever. No, they must ease off a little + gradually; now and then, perhaps—only occasionally, of course—it + would be as well to have their meals at different times. If not, some of + those commercial travellers would be getting ideas into their heads about + the loving cousins. Remember, in a little place like this—and she + ... how <i>could</i> she understand it? A little place—yes, but + surely it was no smaller now than it had been at first? No, no, my friend, + it is you that have changed! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + There had been plenty of rain, and the timber was coming down beautifully. + Nevertheless, the engineer took to going off on little trips up or down + the river. It seemed as if he were glad to get away; he looked worried and + miserable altogether now. + </p> + <p> + One day he asked me to go up and tell Grindhusen to come in to town. Was + it Grindhusen, I wondered, that was to be dismissed? But Fruen had never + so much as set eyes on Grindhusen since she came; what could he have done + to offend her? + </p> + <p> + I fetched Grindhusen in accordingly. He went up to the hotel at once to + report, and the engineer put on his things and went out with him. They set + out up the river and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Later in the day Grindhusen came to my lodging, and was ready enough to + tell, but I asked him nothing. In the evening the lumberman gave him <i>Brændevin</i>, + and the spirit loosened his tongue. What about this cousin, or something, + engineer has got with him? How much longer was she going to stay? As to + this, nobody could say; and, anyhow, why shouldn't she stay? “'Tis naught + but fooling and trouble with such-like cousin business,” Grindhusen + declared. “Why couldn't he bring along the girl he's going to marry?—and + I told him so to his face.” + </p> + <p> + “You told him?” asked one of the men. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, I did that. You may not know it, but engineer and I we sit there + talking as it might be me and you,” said Grindhusen, looking mighty big + and proud. “What do you suppose he sent to fetch me for? You'd never guess + if you sat there all night. Why, he sent for me just to have a talk over + things. Not that there's anything new or strange about that; he's done the + same before now; but, anyhow, that's what it was.” + </p> + <p> + “What'd he want to talk to you about?” asked one. + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen swelled, and was not to be drawn at once. “Eh, I'm not such a + fool, but I know how to talk with a man. And it's not my way to be + contrary neither. 'You know a thing or two, Grindhusen,' says the + Inspector, 'and there's two Kroner for you,' says he. Ay, that's what he + said. And if you don't believe me, why, here's the money, and you can see. + There!” + </p> + <p> + “But what was it all about?” asked several voices at once. + </p> + <p> + “He'd better not say, if you ask me,” I said. + </p> + <p> + It struck me that the engineer must have been miserable and desperate when + he sent me to fetch Grindhusen. He was so little used to trouble that the + moment anything went wrong he felt the need of some one to confide in. And + now when he was going about day after day, thoroughly disheartened and + full of pity for himself, as if he wanted to know how miserable he was at + being checked in his play. This sportsman, with his figure moulded in the + wrong place, was a travesty of youth, a Spartan in tears. What sort of + upbringing could his have been? + </p> + <p> + Ah, well, if he had been an old man I had found reason and excuse for him + enough; if the truth were known, it was perhaps but hatred of his youth + that moved me now. Who can say? But I know I looked upon him as a + travesty, a caricature. + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen stared at me when I had spoken my few words; the others, too, + looked wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + “I'll not say, but it might be better not,” said Grindhusen submissively. + </p> + <p> + But the men were not to be put off. + </p> + <p> + “And why shouldn't he tell? We're not going to let it go farther.” + </p> + <p> + “No, that we shan't,” said another. “But you might be one of that sort + yourself and go telling tales to the Inspector.” + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen took courage at this, and said: + </p> + <p> + “I'll say what I like, so don't you trouble yourself! Tell just as much as + I please. For I'm saying no more than's true. And in case you'd care to + know, I can tell you the Inspector's got a word to say to you very soon. + Ay, that he has, or hearing goes for nothing. So you've no call to be + anyway stuck up yourself. And as for me telling or not telling things, I'm + saying never a thing but what's the truth. Just remember that. And if you + knew as much as I do, she's nothing but a plague and a burden to him all + the time, and won't let him out of her sight. D'you call that cousins, + going on like that?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, surely; nay, surely!” said the men encouragingly. + </p> + <p> + “What d'you think he sent for me about? Ay, there's the pretty fellow he + sent up with the message! But there'll be a message for him one of these + days: I gathered as much from the Inspector himself. I'll say no more than + that. And as for me telling things, here's Inspector's been like a father + to me, and I'd be a stock and a stone to say otherwise. 'I'm all upset and + worried these days, Grindhusen,' says he to me. 'And what's a man to do; + can you tell me that now?' 'No,' says I, 'but Inspector knows himself,' + says I. Those very words I said. 'I wish to Heaven I did,' says he again. + 'But it's all these wretched women,' says he. 'If it's women,' says I, + 'why, there's no doing anything with them,' says I. 'No, indeed, you're + right there!' says he. 'The only way's to give them what they were made + for, and a good round slap on the backside into the bargain,' says I. 'By + Heaven, I believe you're right there, Grindhusen,' says the Inspector, and + he brightened up no end. I've never seen a man so brightened up and + cheerful just for a word or so. It was a sight to see. And you can take + and drown me if it isn't gospel truth every single bit I've said. I sat + there just as I'm sitting now, and Inspector as it might be there....” + </p> + <p> + And Grindhusen rambled on. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Next morning early, before it was fairly light, Engineer Lassen stopped me + on the street. It was only half-past three. I was all fitted out for a + tramp up the river, with my boat-hook and a store of food. Grindhusen was + having a drinking-bout in town, and I was going to do his beat as well as + my own. That would take me right up to the top of the hills, and I had + packed a double stock of food accordingly. + </p> + <p> + The engineer was evidently coming down from a party somewhere; he was + laughing and talking loudly with a couple of other men, all of them more + or less drunk. + </p> + <p> + “Go on ahead a bit,” he said to the others. And then, turning to me, he + asked: “Where are you off to?” + </p> + <p> + I told him what I had in mind. + </p> + <p> + “H'm! I don't know about that,” said he. “No, I think you'd better not. + Grindhusen can manage all right by himself. And, besides, I'm going to + inspect myself. You've no business to go off doing things like that + without asking me first.” + </p> + <p> + Well, he was right of course, so far as that went, and I begged his + pardon. And, indeed, knowing as I did how he was set on playing the master + and lording it over his men, I might have had more sense. + </p> + <p> + But begging his pardon only seemed to egg him on; he felt deeply injured, + and grew quite excited over it. + </p> + <p> + “I'll have no more of this!” he said. “My men are here to carry out my + orders; that's all they've got to do. I took you on to give you a chance, + not because I'd any use for you myself. And I've no use for you now, + anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + I stood there staring at him, and said never a word. + </p> + <p> + “You can come round to the office today and get your wages,” he went on. + And then he turned to go. + </p> + <p> + So I was the one to be dismissed! Now I understood what Grindhusen had + meant with his hints about me. Fru Falkenberg, no doubt, had come to hate + the sight of me by now, reminding her, as it must, of her home, and so she + had got him to turn me off. But hadn't I been the very one to show + delicacy of feeling towards her at the station, turning away instead of + recognizing her? Had I ever so much as lifted my cap to her when I passed + her in the street? Surely I had been considerate enough to deserve + consideration in return? + </p> + <p> + And now—here was this young engineer turning me off at a moment's + notice, and that with unnecessary vehemence. I saw it all in my mind: he + had been worrying himself for days over this dismissal, shirking it all + the time, until at last he managed to screw his courage up by drinking + hard all night. Was I doing him an injustice? It might be so; and I tried + to combat the thought myself. Once more I called to mind that he was young + and I was old, and my heart no doubt, full of envy on that account. So I + gave him no sarcastic answer now, but simply said: + </p> + <p> + “Ay, well, then, I can unpack the things I was taking along.” + </p> + <p> + But the engineer was anxious to make the most of his chance now he was + fairly started; he dragged in the old story about the time he'd wanted me + to go and fetch a trunk. + </p> + <p> + “When I give an order, I don't expect the man to turn round and say no, he + won't. I'm not used to that sort of thing. And as there's no knowing it + may not occur again, you'd better go.” + </p> + <p> + “Well and good,” said I. + </p> + <p> + I saw a figure in a white dress at a window in the hotel, and fancied it + must be Fru Falkenberg watching us, so I said no more. + </p> + <p> + But then the engineer seemed suddenly to remember that he couldn't get rid + of me once and for all on the spot; he would have to see me again to + settle up. So he changed his tone and said: “Well, anyhow, come up + sometime to-day and get your money. Have you thought over how much it + ought to be?” + </p> + <p> + “No. That'll be for engineer himself to decide.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” he said in a kindlier voice, “after all, you've been a good + man to have, I will say that for you. But, for various reasons—and + it's not only for myself: you know what women—that is, I mean the + ladies—” + </p> + <p> + Oh, but he was young indeed. He stopped at nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Well—good morning!” He nodded abruptly, and turned away. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + But the day proved all too short for me; I went up into the woods, and + stayed roaming about there all by myself so long that I didn't get to the + office to draw my money. Well, there was no hurry; I had plenty of time. + </p> + <p> + What was I to do now? + </p> + <p> + I had not cared much for the little town before, but now it began to + interest me; I would gladly have stayed on a while. There were + complications arising between two people whom I had been following + attentively for some weeks past; something fresh might happen any moment + now, there was no saying. I thought of going as apprentice to a + blacksmith, just for the sake of staying in the place, but then, if I did, + I should be tied to the smithy all day and hampered in my movements + altogether; apart from which, the apprenticeship would take too many years + of my life. And years were the thing I least of all could spare. + </p> + <p> + So I let the days pass, one after another; the weather changed round again + to dry, sunny days. I stayed on at the lodging-house, mended my clothes, + and got some new ones made at a shop. One of the maids in the house came + up one evening and offered to do some mending for me, but I was more in + the mood for fooling, and showed her how well I managed the work myself. + </p> + <p> + “Look at that patch, there, now—and that!” After a while a man came + up the stairs and tried the door. “Open, you within!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “It's Henrik, one of the lumbermen,” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Is he your sweetheart?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed, I should think not,” she answered. “I'd rather go without + than have a fellow like him.” + </p> + <p> + “Open the door, d'you hear!” cried the man outside. But the girl was not + frightened in the least. “Let him stay outside,” she said. And we let him + stay outside. But that door of mine bent inwards in a great curve every + now and then, when he pushed his hardest. + </p> + <p> + At last, when we'd finished making fun about my needlework and her + sweethearts, I had to go out and see the passage was clear before she + would venture downstairs. But there was no man there. + </p> + <p> + It was late now; I went down to the parlour for a bit, and there was + Grindhusen drinking with some of the gang. “There he is!” said one of + them, as I came in. It was Henrik who spoke; he was trying to get his + mates against me. Grindhusen, too, sided with the rest of them, and tried + all he could to annoy me. + </p> + <p> + Poor Grindhusen! He was stale-drunk all the time now, and couldn't get + clear of it. He had had another meeting with Engineer Lassen; they had + walked up the river as before and sat talking for an hour, and when + Grindhusen came back he showed a new two-Kroner piece he'd got. Then he + went on the drink again, and gabbled about being in the engineer's + confidence. This evening, too, he was all high-and-mightiness, not to be + outdone by anybody. + </p> + <p> + “Come in and sit down,” he said to me. + </p> + <p> + But one or two of the other men demurred; they would have nothing to do + with me. And at this Grindhusen changed front; for sheer devilment he fell + to again about the engineer and his cousin, knowing it would annoy me. + </p> + <p> + “Well, has he turned you off?” he asked, with a side glance at the others, + as if to bid them watch what was coming. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Aha! I knew all about it days ago, but I never said a word. I don't mind + saying I knew about it before any other single soul in the world of us + here, but did I ever breathe a word of it? Inspector he says to me: 'I + want to ask you something, Grindhusen,' says he, 'and that is, if you'll + come down and work in the town instead of the man I've got there now. I + want to get rid of him,' says he. 'Why, as to that,' says I, 'it's just as + Inspector's pleased to command.' That was my very words, and neither more + nor less. But did I ever breathe a syllable?” + </p> + <p> + “Has he turned you off?” asked one of the other men then. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “But as for that cousin of his,” Grindhusen went on, “he asked me about + her, too. Ay, Inspector, he asks my advice about all sorts of things. And + now, this last time we were up the river together, he slapped his knee + when he talked of her. So there. And you can guess for yourselves till + tomorrow morning if you like. Everything of the best to eat and drink and + every way, and costing a heap of money each week; but she stays on and on. + Fie and for shame, say I, and I mean it too.” + </p> + <p> + But now it seemed as if the scale had turned in my favour at the news of + my dismissal; some of the men perhaps felt sorry for me, others were glad + to learn that I was going. One of them offered me a drink from his own + bottle, and called to the maid for “another glass—a clean one, you + understand!” Even Henrik no longer bore me any grudge, but drank with me + and was friendly enough. And we sat there gossiping over our glasses quite + a while. + </p> + <p> + “But you'd better go up and see about that money of yours,” said + Grindhusen. “For from what I've heard, I don't fancy you'll get the + Inspector to come down here with it after you. He said as much. 'There's + money owing to him,' that was what he said, 'but if he thinks I'm going to + run after him with it, you can tell him it's here,' he said.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII + </h2> + <p> + But the engineer did come down after me, as it turned out, though it was + queer it should be so. Anyhow, it was a triumph I had not sought, and I + cared nothing for it. + </p> + <p> + He came to the lodging-house to see me, and said: “I want you to come back + with me, if you please, and get your money. And there's a letter come for + you by the post.” + </p> + <p> + When we stepped into the office, Fru Falkenberg was there. I was taken + aback at finding her there. I made a bow and stood over by the door. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, won't you?” said the engineer, going to the table for my + letter. “Here you are. No, sit down and read your letter while I'm + reckoning up your pay.” + </p> + <p> + And Fru Falkenberg herself motioned me to a chair. + </p> + <p> + Now, what were they looking so anxious about? And what was the meaning of + this sudden politeness and “Won't you sit down?” and all the rest? I had + not to wait long to find out: the letter was from Captain Falkenberg. + </p> + <p> + “Here, you can use this,” said Fruen very obligingly, handing me a + letter-opener. + </p> + <p> + A simple, ordinary letter, nothing more; indeed, it began almost + jestingly: I had run away from Øvrebø before he knew I was going, and + hadn't even waited for my money. If I imagined he was in difficulties and + would not be able to pay me before the harvest was in—if that was + why I had left in such a hurry, why, he hoped I had found out I was + mistaken. And now he would be very glad if I would come back and work for + him if I wasn't fixed up elsewhere. The house and outbuildings wanted + painting, then there would be the harvesting, and, after that, he would + like to have me for work among the timber. Everything looking well here, + fields nice and tall, meadows nice and thick. Glad to hear as soon as you + can in answer to this,—Yours, FALKENBERG. + </p> + <p> + The engineer had finished his reckoning. He turned on his chair and looked + over at the wall. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he turned + sharply to the table again. Nervousness, that was all. Fruen stood looking + at her rings, but I had a feeling she was stealthily watching me all the + time—thoroughly nervous, the pair of them! + </p> + <p> + Then said the engineer: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, by the way, I noticed your letter was from Captain Falkenberg. How + are things going there? I knew the writing at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you like to read the letter?” I said promptly, offering it as I + spoke. + </p> + <p> + “No—oh no. Thanks, all the same. Not in the least. I was only....” + </p> + <p> + But he took the letter, all the same. And Fruen came across to him and + stood looking over his shoulder as he read. + </p> + <p> + “H'm!” said the engineer, with a nod. “Everything going on nicely, it + seems. Thanks.” And he held out the letter to give it back. + </p> + <p> + Fruen's manner was different. She took the letter from him and began + studying it herself. Her hand shook a little. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now about the money,” said the engineer. “Here you are; that's what + I make it. I hope you're satisfied all right?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, thank you,” said I. + </p> + <p> + He seemed relieved to find that Captain Falkenberg's letter was only about + myself and made no mention of anyone else. And again he tried to soften + down my dismissal. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” he said. “But if you should happen to be in these parts any + time, you know where to find me. We've all but finished now for this year—there's + been too much drought just lately.” + </p> + <p> + Fruen was still holding the letter. Then I saw she had finished reading, + for her eyes never moved; but she stood there, staring at the letter, + thinking. What was in her mind, I wondered? + </p> + <p> + The engineer glanced at her impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Are you learning it by heart?” he said, with a half-smile. “Come, dear, + he's waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I beg your pardon,” said Fruen quickly. “I forgot.” And she handed me + the letter. + </p> + <p> + “So it seems,” observed the engineer. + </p> + <p> + I bowed, and went out. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + On a summer evening the bridge is crowded with people out walking—school + teachers and tradespeople, young girls and children. I watch my time when + it is getting late, and the bridge is deserted; then I can lounge over + that way myself, and stay for an hour or so in the midst of the roar. No + need to do anything really but listen; only my brain is so over-rested + with idleness and good sound sleep, it finds no end of things to busy + itself about. Last evening I determined in all seriousness to go to Fru + Falkenberg and say: + </p> + <p> + “Go away from here, Frue; leave by the first train that goes.” Today I + have been calling myself a fool for entertaining such a ridiculous + thought, and set in its place another: “Get out of this yourself, my good + man, by the first train that goes. Are you her equal, her adviser? Very + well, then; see that what you do is not too utterly at variance with what + you are!” + </p> + <p> + And this evening I am still treating myself as I deserve. I fall to + humming a little tune, but can scarcely hear it myself! the sound is + crushed to death in the roar of the water. “That's right,” I say to myself + scornfully. “You ought always to stand by a deafening foss when you feel + like humming a tune.” And I laugh at myself again. With suchlike childish + fancies do I pass the time. + </p> + <p> + The noise of the rapids anywhere inland is as useful to the ear as the + noise of breakers on the shore. But the voice of the breakers is louder + and fainter by turns. The roar of waters in a river-bed is like an audible + fog, a monotony of sound beyond reason, contrary to all sense, a miracle + of idiocy. “What is the time, do you know?” “Yes, isn't it?” “Day or + night?” “Yes!” As if some one had laid a stone on six keys of an organ, + and walked off and left it there. + </p> + <p> + With such childish fancies do I while away the time. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Godaften</i>!” says Fru Falkenberg, and there she is beside me. + </p> + <p> + I hardly felt surprised; it was almost as if I had expected her. After her + behaviour with her husband's letter, she might well go a little farther. + </p> + <p> + Now I could think two ways about her coming: either she had turned + thoroughly sentimental at being reminded so directly of her home once + more, or she wanted to make her engineer jealous; he might perhaps be + watching us from his window that very moment, and I had been sent for to + go back to Øvrebø. Possibly she was thoroughly calculating, and had been + trying to work on his jealousy even yesterday, when she studied the letter + so attentively. + </p> + <p> + It seemed, however, that none of my clever theories was to be confirmed. + It was me she wanted to see, and that only to make a sort of apology for + getting me dismissed. That she should ever care about such a trifle! Was + she so incapable of thinking seriously that she could not see what a + miserable position she herself was in? What in the devil's name had she to + do with my affairs? + </p> + <p> + I had thought to say a brief word or so and point to the train, but + something made me gentle, as if I were dealing with an irresponsible, a + child. + </p> + <p> + “You'll be going back to Øvrebø now, I suppose?” she said. “And I thought + I'd like.... H'm!... You're sorry to be leaving here, perhaps? No? No, no, + of course not. But I must tell you something: It was I that got you + dismissed.” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't matter.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Only, I wanted to tell you. Now that you're going back to Øvrebø. + You can understand it was a little unpleasant for me at times to....” + </p> + <p> + She checked herself. + </p> + <p> + “To have me about the place. Yes, it would be unpleasant.” + </p> + <p> + “To see you here. A <i>little</i> unpleasant; I mean, because you knew + about me before. So I asked the engineer if he couldn't send you away. Not + that he wanted to himself, you understand. Quite the reverse, in fact, but + he did at last. I'm glad you're going back to Øvrebø.” + </p> + <p> + “So?” said I. “But when Fruen comes home again surely it will be just as + unpleasant to see me then?” + </p> + <p> + “Home?” she repeated. “I'm not going home.” + </p> + <p> + Pause. She had frowned as she spoke. But now she nodded, and even smiled a + little, and turned to go. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, you'll pardon me, then, I know,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any objection to my going back to Captain Falkenberg?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + She stopped, and looked me full in the face. Now, what was the right thing + here? Three times she had spoken of Øvrebø. Was it with the idea that I + might put in a word for her if opportunity offered, when I got back there? + Or was she unwilling to ask of me as a favour not to go? + </p> + <p> + “No, no, indeed I've not!” she answered. “Go there, by all means.” + </p> + <p> + And she turned and left me. + </p> + <p> + Neither sentimental nor calculating, as far as I could see. But she might + well have been both. And what had I gained by my attempt at a confidential + tone? I should have known better than to try, whether she stayed here or + went elsewhere. What business was it of mine? 'Twas her affair. + </p> + <p> + You're playing and pretending, I said to myself. All very well to say + she's literature and no more, but that withered soul of yours showed good + signs of life when she was kind to you and began looking at you with those + two eyes of hers. I'm disappointed; I'm ashamed of you, and to-morrow you + go! + </p> + <p> + But I did not go. + </p> + <p> + And true it is that I went about spying and listening everywhere for + anything I could learn of Fru Falkenberg; and then at times, ay, many a + night, I would call myself to account for that same thing, and torture + myself with self-contempt. From early morning I thought of her: is she + awake yet? Has she slept well? Will she be going back home to-day? And at + the same time all sorts of ideas came into my head. I might perhaps get + work at the hotel where she was staying. Or I might write home for some + clothes, turn gentleman myself, and go and stay at that same hotel. This + last, of course, would at once have cut the ground from under my feet and + left me farther removed from her than ever, but it was the one that + appealed to me most of all, fool that I was. I had begun to make friends + with the hotel porter, already, merely because he lived nearer to her than + I. He was a big, strong fellow, who went up to the station every day to + meet the trains and pick up a commercial traveller once a fortnight. He + could give me no news; I did not ply him with questions, nor even lead him + on to tell me things of his own accord; and, besides, he was far from + intelligent. But he lived under the same roof with Fruen—ah yes, + that he did. And one day it came about that this acquaintance of mine with + the hotel porter brought me a piece of valuable information about Fru + Falkenberg, and that from her own lips. + </p> + <p> + So they were not all equally fruitless, those days in the little town. + </p> + <p> + One morning I came back with the porter from the station; he had picked up + a traveller with a heap of luggage, and had to take horse and cart to + fetch the heavy grey trunks. + </p> + <p> + I had helped him to get them loaded up at the station, and now, as we + pulled up at the hotel, he said: “You might lend a hand getting these + things in; I'll stand you a bottle of beer this evening.” + </p> + <p> + So we carried in the trunks together. They were to be taken up at once to + the big luggage-room upstairs; the owner was waiting for them. It was an + easy job for the two of us big, strong fellows both. + </p> + <p> + We had got them up all but one—that was still in the cart—when + the porter was called back upstairs; the traveller was giving him + instructions about something or other. Meantime, I went out, and waited in + the passage; I did not belong to the place, and did not want to be seen + hanging about on the stairs by myself. + </p> + <p> + Just then the door of Engineer Lassen's office opened, and he and Fru + Falkenberg came out. They looked as if they had just got up; they had no + hats on; just going down to breakfast, no doubt. Now, whether they did not + notice me, or took me for the porter standing there, they went on with + what they had been saying. + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” says the engineer. “And it won't be any different. I can't see + what you've got to feel lonely about.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you know well enough!” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't, and I do think you might be a little more cheerful.” + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't like it if I were. You'd rather have me stay as I am, + miserable and wretched, because you don't care for me any more.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped on the stairs abruptly. “Really, I think you must be mad,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say I am,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + How poorly she held her own in a quarrel! It was always so with her. Why + could she not be careful of her words, and answer so as to wound him, + crush him altogether? + </p> + <p> + He stood with one hand on the stair-rail and said: + </p> + <p> + “So you think it pleases me to have things going on like this? I tell you + it hurts me desperately—has done for a long time past.” + </p> + <p> + “And me,” she answered. “But now I'll have no more of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed! You've said that before. You said it only a week ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am going now.” + </p> + <p> + He looked up at her. + </p> + <p> + “Going away?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Very soon.” + </p> + <p> + But he saw that he had betrayed himself in grasping so eagerly, + delightedly, at the suggestion, and tried now to smooth it over. + </p> + <p> + “There, there!” he said. “Be a nice sensible cousin now, and don't talk + about going away.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going,” she said, and, slipping past him, went down the stairs by + herself. He followed after. + </p> + <p> + Then the porter came out and we went down together. The last box was + smaller than the others. I asked him to carry it up himself, pretending I + had hurt my hand. I helped him to get it on his back, and went off home. + Now I could go away the following day. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon Grindhusen, too, was dismissed. The engineer had sent for + him, given him a severe talking to for doing no work and staying in town + and getting drunk; in a word, his services were no longer needed. + </p> + <p> + I thought to myself: It was strangely sudden, this new burst of courage on + the part of the engineer. He was so young, he had needed some one to back + him up and agree to everything he said; now, however, seeing that a + certain troublesome cousin was going away, he had no further need of + comfort there. Or was my withered soul doing him an injustice? + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen was greatly distressed. He had reckoned on staying in town all + the summer, as general handyman to the Inspector himself; but all hope of + that was gone now. The Inspector was no longer as good as a father to him. + And Grindhusen bore the disappointment badly. When they came to settle up, + the Inspector had been going to deduct the two-Kroner pieces he had given + him, saying they had only been meant as payment in advance. Grindhusen sat + in the general room at the lodging-house and told us all about it, adding + that the Inspector was pretty mean in the matter of wages after all. At + this, one of the men burst out laughing, and said: + </p> + <p> + “No; did he, though? He didn't take them back, really?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” said Grindhusen. “He didn't dare take off more than the one.” + </p> + <p> + There was more laughter at this, and some one else asked: + </p> + <p> + “No, really? Which one was it? Did he knock off the first two-Kroner or + the second? Ha, ha, ha! That's the best I've heard for a long time.” + </p> + <p> + But Grindhusen did not laugh; he grew more and more sullen and despairing. + What was he to do now? Farm labourers for the season's work would have + been taken on everywhere by now, and here he was. He asked me where I was + going, and when I told him, he begged me to put in a word for him with the + Captain, and see if I couldn't get him taken on there for the summer. + Meantime, he would stay on in the town, and wait till he heard from me. + </p> + <p> + But I knew there would soon be an end of Grindhusen's money if he stayed + on in the town. The end of it was, I took him along with me, as the best + thing to be done. He had been a smart hand at paint-work once, had + Grindhusen; I remembered how he had done up old Gunhild's cottage on the + island. He could come and help me now, for the time being; later on, we + would surely find something else for him to do; there would be plenty of + field-work in the course of the summer where he might be useful. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + The 16th July found me back at Øvrebø. I remember dates more and more + distinctly now, partly by reason of my getting old and acquiring the + intensified interest of senility in such things, partly because of being a + labourer, and obliged to keep account of my working days. But an old man + may keep his dates in mind and forget all about far more important things. + Up to now, for instance, I have forgotten to mention that the letter I had + from Captain Falkenberg was addressed to me care of Engineer Lassen. Well + and good. But the point appeared significant: the Captain, then, had + ascertained whom I was working for. And it came into my mind that possibly + the Captain was also aware of who else had been in the care of Engineer + Lassen that summer! + </p> + <p> + The Captain was still away on duty when I arrived; he would be back in a + week. As it was, Grindhusen was very well received; Nils was quite pleased + to find I had brought my mate along, and refused to let me keep him to + help with the painting, but sent him off on his own responsibility to work + in the turnip and potato fields. There was no end of work—weeding + and thinning out—and Nils was already in the thick of the + hay-making. + </p> + <p> + He was the same splendid, earnest farmer as ever. At the first rest, while + the horses were feeding, he took me out over the ground to look at the + crops. Everything was doing well; but it had been a late spring that year, + and the cat's-tail was barely forming as yet, while the clover had just + begun to show bloom. The last rain had beaten down a lot of the first-year + grass, and it could not pick up again, so Nils had put on the + mowing-machine. + </p> + <p> + We walked back home through waving grass and corn; there was a whispering + in the winter rye and the stout six-rowed barley. Nils, who had not + forgotten his schooling, called to mind that beautiful line of Bjørnson's: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “<i>Beginning like a whisper in the corn one summer day</i>.” + </pre> + <p> + “Time to get the horses out again,” said Nils, stepping out a little. And + waving his hand once more out over the fields, he said: “What a harvest + we'll have this year if we can only get it safely in!” + </p> + <p> + So Grindhusen went off to work in the fields, and I fell to on the + painting. I started with the barn, and all that was to be red; then I did + over the flagstaff and the summer-house down among the lilacs with the + first coat of oil. The house itself I meant to leave till the last. It was + built in good old-fashioned country style, with rich, heavy woodwork and a + carved border, <i>à la grecque</i>, above the doorway. It was yellow as it + was, and a new lot of yellow paint had come in to do with this time. I + took upon myself, however, to send the yellow back, and get another colour + in exchange. In my judgment the house ought to be stone-grey, with doors + and window-frames and verge-boards white. But that would be for the + Captain to decide. + </p> + <p> + But though every one on the place was as nice as could be, and the cook in + authority lenient, and Ragnhild as bright-eyed as ever, we all felt it + dull with the master and mistress away. All save Grindhusen, honest + fellow, who was quite content. Decent work and good food soon set him up + again, and in a few days he was happy and waxing fat. His one anxiety was + lest the Captain should turn him off when he came home. But no such thing—Grindhusen + was allowed to stay. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX + </h2> + <p> + The Captain arrived. + </p> + <p> + I was giving the barn its second coat; at the sound of his voice I came + down from the ladder. He bade me welcome. + </p> + <p> + “Running away from your money like that!” he said. And I fancied he looked + at me with some suspicion as he asked: “What did you do that for?” + </p> + <p> + I answered simply that I had no idea of presuming to make him a present of + my work; the money could stand over, that was all. + </p> + <p> + He brightened up at that. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, of course. Well, I'm very glad you came. We must have the + flagstaff white, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + I did not dare tell him at once all I wanted done in white, but simply + said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I've got hold of some white paint.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you, though? That's good. You've brought another man up with you, I + hear?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I don't know what Captain thinks....” + </p> + <p> + “He can stay. Nils has got him to work out in the fields already. And + anyhow, you all seem to do as you like with me,” he added jestingly. “And + you've been working with the lumbermen, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly the sort of thing for you, was it?” Then, as if anxious not to + seem curious about my work with Engineer Lassen, he broke off abruptly and + said: “When are you going to start painting the house?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought of beginning this afternoon. It'll need scraping a bit here and + there.” + </p> + <p> + “Good. And if you find the woodwork loose anywhere, you can put in a nail + or so at the same time. Have you had a look at the fields?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Everything's looking very nice. You men did good work last spring. Do no + harm now if we had a little rain for the upper lands.” + </p> + <p> + “Grindhusen and I passed lots of places on the way up that needed rain + more than here. It's clay bottom here, and far up in the hills.” + </p> + <p> + “That's true. How did you know that, by the way?” + </p> + <p> + “I looked about when I was here in the spring,” I answered, “and I did a + little digging here and there. I'd an idea you'd be wanting to have water + laid on to the house some time or other, so I went prospecting a bit.” + </p> + <p> + “Water laid on? Well, yes, I did think of it at one time, but.... Yes, I + was going to have it done some years back; but I couldn't get everything + done at once, and then it was held up. And just now I shall want the money + for other things.” + </p> + <p> + A wrinkle showed between his eyes for a moment; he stood looking down—in + thought. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, that thousand dozen battens ought to do it, and leave + something over,” he said suddenly. “Water? It would have to be laid on to + the outbuildings as well. A whole system of pipes.” + </p> + <p> + “There'd be no rock-work though, no blasting.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Oh, well, we'll see. What was I going to say? Did you have a good + time down there in the town? Not a big place, but you do see more people + there. And the railway brings visitors now and again, no doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “Aha,” I thought to myself, “he knows well enough what visitor came to + stay with Engineer Lassen this summer!” I answered that I did not care + much for the place—which was perfectly true. + </p> + <p> + “No, really?” + </p> + <p> + He seemed to find something to ponder over in that; he stared straight in + front of him, whistling softly to himself. Then he walked away. + </p> + <p> + The Captain was in good spirits; he had been more communicative than ever + before; he nodded to me as he went off. Just as of old he was now—quick + and determined, taking an interest in his affairs once more, and sober as + water. I felt cheered myself to see him so. He was no wastrel; he had had + a spell of foolishness and dissipation, but it needed only his own + resolution to put an end to that. An oar in the water looks broken to the + eye, but it is whole. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + It set in to rain, and I had to stop work on the painting. Nils had been + lucky enough to get in all the hay that was cut; we got to work now on the + potatoes, all hands out in the fields at once, with the women folk from + the house as well. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the Captain stayed indoors all alone; it was dull enough; now + and again he would touch the keys of Fruen's piano. He came out once or + twice to where we were at work, and he carried no umbrella, but let + himself get drenched to the skin. + </p> + <p> + “Grand weather for the crops!” he would say; or again, “Looks like being + an extra special harvest this year!” But when he went back to the house + there was only himself and loneliness to meet him. “We're better off + ourselves than he is now,” said Nils. + </p> + <p> + So we worked away at the potatoes, and when they were done there were the + turnips. And by the time we were through with them the weather began to + clear. Ideal weather, all that one could wish for. Nils and I were as + proud of it all as if we owned the place. + </p> + <p> + And now the haymaking began in earnest: the maids were out, spreading in + the wake of the machine, and Grindhusen was set to work with a scythe in + the corners and awkward parts where the machine could not go. And I got + out my stone-grey paint and set about the house. + </p> + <p> + The Captain came up. “What colour's that you've got here?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + What could I say to that? I was nervous, I know, but my greatest fear was + lest I should not be allowed to paint it grey after all. As it was, I + said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's only some ... I don't know ... it doesn't matter what we put on + for the first coat....” + </p> + <p> + That saved me for the time being, at any rate. The Captain said no more + about it then. + </p> + <p> + When I had done the house all grey, and doors and windows white, I went + down to the summer-house and did that the same. But it turned out horrible + to look at; the yellow underneath showed through and made it a ghastly + colour. The flagstaff I took down and painted a clean white. Then I put in + a spell of field-work with Nils and was haymaking for some days. Early in + August it was. + </p> + <p> + Now, when I went back to my painting again I had settled in my mind to + start on the house as early as possible, so as to be well on the way with + it before the Captain was up—too far, if I could manage it, to go + back! I started at three in the morning; there was a heavy dew, and I had + to rub the woodwork over with a bit of sack. I worked away for an hour, + and then had coffee, then on again till eight. I knew the Captain would be + getting up then, so I went off to help Nils for an hour and be out of the + way. I had done as much as I wanted, and my idea now was to give the + Captain time to get over the shock of my grey, in case he should have got + up in an irritable mood. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast I went back to work, and stood there on my ladder painting + away, as innocently as could be, when the Captain came up. + </p> + <p> + “Are you doing it over with grey again?” he called up. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Godmorgen</i>! Yes. I don't know if....” + </p> + <p> + “Now what's the meaning of all this? Come down off that ladder at once!” + </p> + <p> + I clambered down. But I was not anxious now. I had thought out something + to say that I fancied would prove effective at the right moment—unless + my judgment was altogether at fault. + </p> + <p> + I tried first of all to make out it didn't matter really what colour we + used for the second time either, but the Captain cut me short here and + said: + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! Yellow on top of that grey will look like mud; you can see that + for yourself, surely.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, we might give it two coats of yellow,” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Four coats of paint? No, thank you! And all that white you've been + wasting! It's ever so much dearer than the yellow.” + </p> + <p> + This was perfectly true, and the very argument I had been fearing all + along. I answered now straight-forwardly: + </p> + <p> + “Let me paint it grey.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “It would look better. There's something about the house ... and with the + green of the woods behind ... the style of the place is....” + </p> + <p> + “Is grey, you mean?” He swung off impatiently a few steps and came back + again. + </p> + <p> + And then I faced him, more innocently than ever, with an inspiration + surely sent from above: + </p> + <p> + “Now I remember! Yes.... I've always seen it grey in my mind, ever since + one day—it was Fruen that said so....” + </p> + <p> + I was watching him closely; he gave a great start and stared at me + wide-eyed for a moment; then he took out his handkerchief and began + fidgeting with it at one eye as if to get out a speck or something. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” he said. “Did she say so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm almost sure it was that. It's a long time back now, but....” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nonsense!” he broke out abruptly, and strode away. I heard him + clearing his throat—hard—as he crossed the courtyard behind. + </p> + <p> + I stood there limply for a while, feeling anything but comfortable myself. + I dared not go on with the painting now, and risk making him angry again. + I went round to the back and put in an hour cutting firewood. When I came + round again, the Captain looked out from an open window upstairs and + called down: + </p> + <p> + “You may as well go on with it now you've got so far. I don't know what + possessed you, I'm sure. But get on with it now.” + </p> + <p> + The window had been open before, but he slammed it to and I went on with + the work. + </p> + <p> + A week passed. I spent my time between painting and haymaking. Grindhusen + was good enough at hoeing potatoes and using a rake here and there, but + not of much account when it came to loading hay. Nils himself was a + first-rate hand, and a glutton for work. + </p> + <p> + I gave the house a third coat, and the delicate grey, picked out with + white, made the place look nobler altogether. One afternoon I was at work, + the Captain came walking up from the road. He watched me for a bit, then + took out his handkerchief as if the heat troubled him, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, better go on with it now you've got so far. I must say she wasn't + far wrong about the colour. All nonsense though, really! H'm!” + </p> + <p> + I made no answer. The Captain used his handkerchief again and said: + </p> + <p> + “Hot again today—puh! What was I going to say? ... yes, it doesn't + look so bad after all. No, she was right—that is, I mean, you were + right about the colour. I was looking at it from down there just now, and + it makes quite a handsome place. And anyhow, it's too late to alter it + now.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so too,” I said. “It suits the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, it suits the house, as it were. And what was it she said about + the woods behind—my wife, I mean? The background, or something?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a long time ago now, but I'm almost sure....” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, never mind. I must say I never thought it would turn out like + that—turn out so well. Will you have enough white, though, to + finish?” + </p> + <p> + “Well ... yes, I sent back the yellow and got some white instead.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain smiled, shook his head, and walked away. So I had been right + after all! + </p> + <p> + Haymaking took up all my time now till it was done, but Nils lent me a + hand in return, painting at the summer-house in the evening. Even + Grindhusen joined in and took a brush. He wasn't much of a painter, he + said, but he reckoned he could be trusted to paint a bit of a wall. + Grindhusen was picking up fast. + </p> + <p> + At last the buildings were finished; hardly recognizable, they were, in + their new finery. And when we'd cleaned up a bit in the shrubbery and the + little park—this was our own idea—the whole place looked + different altogether. And the Captain thanked us specially for what we'd + done. + </p> + <p> + We started on the rye then, and at the same time the autumn rain set in; + but we worked away all we knew, and there came a spell of sunshine in + between whiles. There were big fields of thick, heavy rye, and big fields + again of oats and barley, not yet ripe. It was a rich landscape to work + in. The clover was seeding, but the turnips were somewhat behindhand. A + good soaking would put them right, said Nils. + </p> + <p> + The Captain sent me up to the post from time to time; once he gave me a + letter for his wife. A whole bundle of letters there were, to different + people, and hers in the middle. It was addressed care of her mother in + Kristianssand. When I came back in the evening and took in the incoming + post, the Captain's first words were: “You posted the letters all right?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said. + </p> + <p> + Time went on. On wet days, when there was little we could do out of doors, + the Captain wanted me to paint a bit here and there about the house + inside. He showed me some fine enamels he had got in, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Now here's the staircase to begin with. I want that white, and I've + ordered a dark red stair-carpet to put down. Then there'll be doors and + windows. But I want all this done as soon as possible really; it's been + left too long as it is.” + </p> + <p> + I quite agreed that this was a good idea of the Captain's. He had lived + carelessly enough for years past now, never troubling about the look of + his house; now he had begun to take an interest in it again; it was a sort + of reawakening. He took me over the place, upstairs and down, and showed + me what was to be done. I noticed the pictures and sculpture in the rooms; + there was a big marble lion, and paintings by Askevold and the famous + Dahl. Heirlooms, I supposed they would be. Fruen's room upstairs looked + just as if she were at home, with all sorts of little trifles neatly in + their places, and clothes hanging still on the pegs. It was a fine old + house, with moulded ceilings, and some of the walls done in costly style, + but the paint-work everywhere was faded or flaking off. The staircase was + broad and easy, with seats, and a mahogany handrail. + </p> + <p> + I was painting indoors one day when the Captain came in. + </p> + <p> + “It's harvest-time, I know, but this indoor work's important too. My wife + will be back soon. I don't know what we're to do, really! I'd like to have + the place thoroughly cleaned up.” + </p> + <p> + So that letter was asking her to come back! I thought to myself. But then, + again, it was some days since he had written, and I had been to the post + several times myself, after, but no answer had come. I knew Fruen's + writing. I had seen it six years before. But the Captain thought perhaps + that he had only to say “Come,” and she would obey. Well, well, he might + be right; she was taking a little time to get ready, that was all.... How + was I to know? + </p> + <p> + The painting had grown so important now, that the Captain went up himself + to the clearing and got Lars to come down and help with the field-work in + my place. Nils was by no means pleased with the exchange, for Lars was not + over willing under orders on the place where he had been in charge himself + in days gone by. + </p> + <p> + But there was no such need of hurry about the painting, as it turned out. + The Captain sent the lad up twice to the post, but I watched for him on + the way back both times, and found he had no letter from Fruen. Perhaps + she was not coming after all! Ay, it might be as bad as that. Or she felt + herself in a false position, and was too proud to say yes because her + husband called. It might be that. + </p> + <p> + But the paint was on and had time to dry; the red stair-carpet came and + was laid down with brass rods; the staircase looked wonderfully fine; + wonderfully fine, too, were the doors and windows in the rooms upstairs. + But Fruen did not come—no. + </p> + <p> + We got through with the rye, and set to work in good time on the barley; + but Fruen did not come. The Captain went out and gazed down the road, + whistling to himself; he was looking thinner now. Often and often he would + come out to where we were at work, and keep with us, looking on all the + time without a word. But if Nils happened to ask him anything, he did not + start as if his thoughts had been elsewhere, but was quick and ready as + could be. He did not seem dejected, and as for looking thin, that was + perhaps because he had got Nils to cut his hair. + </p> + <p> + Then I was sent up to the post again, and this time there was a letter. + Fruen's hand, and postmarked Kristianssand. I hurried back, laid the + letter in among the rest of the post, and handed the whole bundle to the + Captain outside the house. He took it with a careless word of thanks, + showing no eagerness to see what there was; he was used to being + disappointed. + </p> + <p> + “Corn coming in everywhere, I suppose?” he asked casually, glancing at the + letters one after another. “What was the road like? All right?” While I + was telling him, he came upon Fruen's letter, and at once packing up the + whole bundle together, he turned to me with a sudden intensified interest + in other people's crops and the state of the roads. Keeping himself well + in hand; he was not going to show feeling openly. He nodded as he walked + off, and said “Thank you” once more. + </p> + <p> + Next day the Captain came out and washed and greased the carriage himself. + But it was two days more before he used it. We were sitting at supper one + evening when the Captain came into the kitchen and said he wanted some one + to drive him to the station tomorrow. He could have driven himself, but he + was going to fetch his wife, who was coming home from abroad, and he would + have to take the landau in case it rained. Nils decided, then, that + Grindhusen had better drive, he being the one who could best be spared. + </p> + <p> + The rest of us went on with our field-work while they were away. There was + plenty to do; besides the rye and barley not yet in, there were still + potatoes to hoe and turnips to see to. But Ragnhild and the dairymaid both + lent a hand; all youth and energy they were. + </p> + <p> + It might have been pleasant enough to work side by side with my old mate + Lars Falkenberg once more, but he and Nils could not get on together, and + instead of cheerful comradeship, a gloomy silence hung over the fields. + Lars seemed to have got over his late ill-will towards me in some degree, + but he was short and sullen with us all on account of Nils. + </p> + <p> + At last Nils decided that Lars should take the pair of chestnuts and get + to work on the autumn ploughing. Lars was offended, and said crossly: No. + He'd never heard of doing things that way before, he said, starting to + plough your land before you'd got the harvest off it. “That may be,” said + Nils, “but I'll find you land that has been reaped enough to keep you + going.” + </p> + <p> + There were more words over that. Lars found everything all wrong somehow + at Øvrebø. In the old days he used to do his work and sing songs after for + the company at the house; now, it was all a mess and a muddle, and no + sense in any way of doing things. Ploughing, indeed! Not if he knew it. + </p> + <p> + “You don't know what you're talking about,” said Nils. “Nowadays you'll + see folk ploughing between the corn-poles and the hay-frames.” + </p> + <p> + “I've not seen it yet,” said Lars. “But it seems you've seen a lot. Of all + the silly goats....” + </p> + <p> + But the end of it was that Lars gave way, Nils being head man there, and + went on ploughing till the Captain came home. + </p> + <p> + It crossed my mind that I had left some washing behind with Emma when I + went away, before. But I judged it best not to go up to the clearing after + it now, while Lars was in his present mood. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X + </h2> + <p> + The Captain and his wife came next day. Nils and I had talked over whether + to hoist the flag; I dared not myself, but Nils was less cautious, and + said we must. So there it was, flapping broad and free from its white + staff. + </p> + <p> + I was close at hand when the carriage drove up and they got out. Fruen + walked out far across the courtyard, looked at the house, and clapped her + hands. I heard her, too, loud in wonder as she entered the hall—at + sight of the stairs, no doubt, and the new red carpet. + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen had no sooner got the horses in than he came up to me, all + agape with astonishment over something, and drew me aside to talk. + </p> + <p> + “There must be something wrong,” he said. “That's not Fru Falkenberg, + surely? Is she married to him—the Captain, I mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, Grindhusen, the Captain's wife is married to the Captain. What + makes you ask?” + </p> + <p> + “But it's that cousin girl! I'll stake my life on it if it's not the very + same one. The Inspector's cousin that was there.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of it, Grindhusen. But it might be her sister.” + </p> + <p> + “But I'll stake my life on it. I saw her with him myself I don't know how + many times.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, she may be his cousin as far as that goes, but what's it to + do with us?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw it the moment she got out of the train. And she looked at me, too, + and gave a start. I could see her breathing quickly after. Don't come + telling me.... But I can't make out.... Is she from here?” + </p> + <p> + “Was Fruen pleased, or did she look unhappy?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, I don't know. Yes, I think she was.” Grindhusen shook his head, + still marvelling how this could be the Captain's wife. “You must have seen + her with the Inspector yourself,” he said. “Didn't you recognize her + again?” + </p> + <p> + “Was she pleased, did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Pleased? Why, yes, I suppose so. I don't know. They talked such a lot of + queer stuff the pair of them, driving home—began at the station, the + minute she got out. There was a whole lot I couldn't make out at all. 'I + don't know what to say,' said she, 'but I beg you so earnestly to forgive + me for it all.' 'And so do I,' says he. Now did you ever hear such a + thing? And they were both of them crying, I believe, in the carriage + after. 'I've had the place painted and done up a bit,' said the Captain. + 'Have you?' says she. And then he went on talking about all her things, + and how they were still there and never been touched. I don't know what + things he meant, but he thought she'd find everything still in its place, + he said. Did you ever hear the like? 'All your things,' he said. And then + he went on about somebody Elisabet, and said he never gave her a thought, + and never had, I think he said. And she cried like anything at that, and + was all upset. But she didn't say a word about being abroad, as the + Captain said. No, I'll stake my life she'd come from the Inspector.” + </p> + <p> + I began to fear I had made a grave mistake in bringing Grindhusen to + Øvrebø. It was done now, but I wished it undone. And I told Grindhusen + himself as much, and that pretty plainly. + </p> + <p> + “Fruen here's the mistress of the place, and good and kind as could be to + every one, and the Captain as well, remember that. But you'll find + yourself whipped out of here, and at once, if you go gossiping and telling + tales. Take my advice and be careful. You've got a good job here, with + good pay and decent food. Think of that, and keep quiet while you're + here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, you're right,” said Grindhusen meekly enough. “I don't say a + word; only, that she's the very image of that cousin down there. And did I + ever say more than that? I don't know what you've got to make such a fuss + about, and as for that, maybe she's a bit fairer than the cousin. I won't + swear it's the same sort of hair. And I never said it was. But if you want + to know what I thought, I'll tell you straight out. I was thinking she was + too good to be that cousin girl. That was my very thought. 'Twould be a + shame for her to be cousin to a fellow like that, and I can't think how + anybody ever could. I'm not thinking about the money now; you know as well + as I do I'm not the man to make a fuss over losing a two-Kroner piece, no + more than you yourself, but it was a mean thing to do, all the same, + giving me the money one day and taking it back the next. Ay, that it was. + I say no more than that. But I don't know what's the matter with you + lately, flying out the least word a man says. And what have I said, + anyway? A mean lot, that he was; paid me two Kroner a day and find my own + food, and always niggling and haggling over every little thing. I've had + enough of your talk anyhow, but I'll tell you what was my very thought, if + you want to know....” + </p> + <p> + But all his flow of talk did not avail to hide the fact that he had + recognized Fruen at once, and was still convinced that he was right. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + All things in order now, the Captain and Fruen at home, bright days and a + rich harvest. What more could any wish for? + </p> + <p> + Fruen greets me with a kindly glance, and says: + </p> + <p> + “The place looks different altogether after the way you've painted it so + nicely. The Captain's ever so pleased.” + </p> + <p> + She seemed calmer now than when I had seen her last, on the stairs of the + hotel in the town. She did not start and breathe quickly at sight of me as + she had with Grindhusen, and that could only mean she was not displeased + at seeing me again! So I thought to myself, and was glad to think so. But + why had she not left off that unsteady glance, that flutter of the eyes, + she had fallen into of late? If I were the Captain, now, I would speak to + her about it. And her complexion, too, was not what it had been. There + were some curious little spots about the temples. But what matter? She was + no less pretty for that. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid, though,” she went on, “it wasn't my idea at all with the + lovely grey for the house. You must have made a mistake in thinking I said + so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I can't make it out. But, anyhow, it's no matter; the Captain + himself decided to have it.” + </p> + <p> + “The staircase is simply splendid, and so are the rooms upstairs. It's + twice as bright as before....” + </p> + <p> + 'Twas Fruen herself was trying to be twice as bright and + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, Grindhusen, the Captain's wife is married twice as good as + before.” I knew that well enough. And she fancied she owed me these little + marks of kindliness, for something or other. Well and good, but now it was + enough. Best let it be. + </p> + <p> + Autumn drawing on, the scent of the jasmine all importunate down in the + shrubbery, and red and yellow showing up long since on the wooded hills. + Not a soul in the place but is glad to have Fruen at home again; the flag, + too, does its part. 'Tis like a Sunday; the maids have put clean aprons + on, fresh from the ironing. + </p> + <p> + In the evening I went down by the little stone steps to the shrubbery and + sat there a while. The jasmines were pouring out waves of perfume after + the heat of the day. After awhile Nils came down, looking for me. + </p> + <p> + “No visitors here now,” says Nils. “And no high goings-on at nights. Have + you heard anything of that sort at night now, since the Captain first came + back?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “And that's full ten weeks ago now. What d'you say if I tore off this + thing now?” And he pointed to his temperance badge. “Captain's given up + drinking, here's Fruen home again, and no call to be unfriendly anyway to + either of them.” + </p> + <p> + He handed me a knife, and I cut the badge away. + </p> + <p> + We talked for a bit about the farm-work—Nils thought of nothing + else. “We'll have most of the corn under shelter by tomorrow night,” he + says. “And thank goodness for that! Then we'll sow the winter rye. Queer + thing, isn't it? Here's Lars went on year after year sowing by machine, + and thought it good enough. Not if I know it! We'll sow ours by hand.” + </p> + <p> + “But why?” + </p> + <p> + “On land like ours! Now just take the man over there, for instance; he + sowed by machine three weeks ago and some's come up and some not. No. The + machine goes too deep in the soil.” + </p> + <p> + “H'm! Don't the jasmines smell fine tonight?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. There's been a big difference with the barley and oats these last + few days. Getting on time for bed, though, now!” + </p> + <p> + He got up, but I did not move. “Looks like being fine again tomorrow,” + says Nils, glancing at the sky. And then he went on about the grass in the + garden; worth cutting, he said it was. + </p> + <p> + “You going to stay down here long?” he asked suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for a bit; why not? Oh, well, perhaps I'd better go up too.” + </p> + <p> + Nils walked off a few paces, then came back again. + </p> + <p> + “Better not stay here any longer,” he said. “Come along up here with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Think so?” I said, and rose at once. Evidently Nils had something in his + mind, and had come down here on purpose to fetch me. + </p> + <p> + Had he found me out? But what was there to find out? + </p> + <p> + Did I know myself what I had gone down to the shrubbery for? I remember + now that I lay face downwards, chewing a stalk of grass. There was light + in a certain upstairs window of the house. I was looking at that. And that + was all. + </p> + <p> + “Not being inquisitive now, but what's the matter?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Nils. “The girls said you were down here, so I just came + along. Why, what else?” + </p> + <p> + So the maids had found me out, I thought to myself, and was ill pleased at + the thought. Ragnhild it must be, a devil of a girl, sharp as a needle; + she must have said a lot more than Nils was willing to confess. And what + if Fruen herself had seen me from the window! + </p> + <p> + I resolved now to be cold and indifferent as ice henceforward all the days + of my life. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Ragnhild is properly in clover. The thick stair carpet muffles every step; + she can run upstairs whenever she pleases and slip down again in a moment + without a sound. + </p> + <p> + “I can't make it out about Fruen,” says Ragnhild. + </p> + <p> + “Here she's come back, and ought to be happy and good tempered as could + be, and instead she's all tears and frowning. I heard the Captain telling + her today: 'Now do be a little reasonable, Lovise,' he said. 'I'm sorry, I + won't do it any more,' says Fruen; and then she cried because she'd been + unreasonable. But that about never doing it any more—she's said that + now every day since she came back, but she's done it again, all the same. + Poor dear, she'd a toothache today; she was simply crying out with the + pain....” + </p> + <p> + “Go and get on with the potatoes, Ragnhild,” said Nils quickly. “We've no + time for gossiping now.” + </p> + <p> + We'd all of us our field-work now; there was much to be done. Nils was + afraid the corn would spoil if he left it too long at the poles; better to + get it in as it was. Well and good; but that meant threshing the worst of + it at once, and spreading the grain over the floor of every shed and + outhouse. Even in our own big living-room there was a large layer of corn + drying on the floor. Any more irons in the fire? Ay, indeed, and all the + while hot and waiting. Bad weather has set in, and all the work ought to + be done at once. When we've finished threshing, there's the fresh straw to + be cut up and salted down in bins to keep it from rotting. That all? Not + by a long way: irons enough still glowing hot. Grindhusen and the maids + are pulling potatoes. Nils snatches the precious time after a couple of + dry days to sow a patch of rye and send the lad over it with the harrow. + Lars Falkenberg is still ploughing; he has given way altogether and turned + out a fine ploughman since the Captain and Fruen came back. When the + corn-land's too soft he ploughs the meadows; then, when sun and wind have + dried things a bit, he goes on to the corn-land again. + </p> + <p> + The work goes on steadily and well; in the afternoon the Captain himself + comes out to lend a hand. The last load of corn in being brought in. + </p> + <p> + Captain Falkenberg is no child at the work, big and strong he is, and with + the right knack of it. See him loading up oats from the drying-frames: his + second load now. + </p> + <p> + Just then Fruen comes along down the road, and crosses over to where we + are at work. Her eyes are bright. She seems pleased to watch her husband + loading up corn. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Signe Arbejdet!</i>” [Footnote: “A blessing on the work.”] she says. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks,” says the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “That's what we used to say in Nordland.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “That's what we used to say in Nordland.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain is busy with his work, and in the rustle of the straw he does + not always hear what she says, but has to look up and ask again, and this + annoys them both. + </p> + <p> + “Are the oats ripe?” she asks. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, thank goodness!” + </p> + <p> + “But not dry, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? I can't hear what you say.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I didn't say anything.” + </p> + <p> + A long, uncomfortable silence after that. The Captain tries once or twice + with a good-humoured word, but gets no answer. + </p> + <p> + “So you're out on a round of inspection,” he says jestingly. “Have you + seen how the potatoes are getting on?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answers. “But I'll go over there, by all means, if you can't + bear the sight of me here.” + </p> + <p> + It was too dreadful to hear them going on like this. I must have frowned + unconsciously—shown some such feeling. Then, suddenly remembering + that for certain reasons I was to be cold as ice, I frowned the more. + </p> + <p> + Freun looked straight at me and said: + </p> + <p> + “What are you scowling at?” + </p> + <p> + “Scowling, eh?” says the Captain, joining in, with a forced laugh. + </p> + <p> + Fruen takes him up on the instant. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you managed to hear that time!” + </p> + <p> + “Really, Lovise....” + </p> + <p> + Fruen's eyes dimmed suddenly; she stood a moment then ran, stooping + forward, round behind the frames, and sobbed. + </p> + <p> + The Captain went over to her. “What is it, Lovise, tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing, nothing! Go away.” + </p> + <p> + She was sick; we could hear it. And moaning and saying: “Heaven help me!” + </p> + <p> + “My wife's not very well just now,” says the Captain to me. “We can't make + out what it is.” + </p> + <p> + “There's sickness in the neighbourhood,” I suggested, for something to + say. “Sort of autumn fever. I heard about it up at the post office.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there, though? Why, there you are, Lovise,” he calls out. “There's + some sort of fever about, it seems. That's all it is.” + </p> + <p> + Fruen made no answer. + </p> + <p> + We went on loading up, and Fruen moved farther and farther away as we came + up. At last the frames were cleared, and she stood there guiltily, very + pale after her trouble. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I see you back to the house?” asked the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, I'd rather not,” she answered, walking away. + </p> + <p> + The Captain stayed out and worked with us till evening. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + So here was everything gone wrong again. Oh, but it was hard for them + both! + </p> + <p> + And it was not just a little matter that could be got over by a little + give and take on either side, as folk say; no, it was a thing insuperable, + a trouble rooted deep. And now it had come to mutiny, no less: Fruen had + taken to locking her door at night. Ragnhild had heard the Captain, highly + offended, talking to her through the wall. + </p> + <p> + But that evening the Captain had demanded to speak with her in her room + before she went to bed. Fruen agreed, and there was a further scene. Each + was willing and anxious, no doubt, to set matters right, but it was + hopeless now; it was too late. We sat in the kitchen, Nils and I, + listening to Ragnhild's story. I had never seen Nils look so miserable + before. + </p> + <p> + “If things go wrong again now, it's all over,” he said. “I thought to + myself last summer that perhaps a good, sound thrashing would do her good. + But that was just foolishness, I can see now. Did she talk about running + away again?” + </p> + <p> + “She said something about it,” answered Ragnhild. And then she went on + something like this: “It began with the Captain asking if she didn't think + it was this local sickness she had got. Fruen answered it could hardly be + any local sickness that had turned her against him so. 'Turned you against + me?' 'Yes. Oh, I could scream sometimes. At table, for instance, the way + you eat and eat....' 'Do I?' says the Captain. 'Well, I can't see there's + anything very wrong in that; it's just natural. There's no rule for how + much one ought to eat at a meal.' 'But to have to sit and look at you—it + makes me sick. It's that that makes me ill.' 'Well, anyhow, you can't say + I drink too much now,' said he. 'So it's better than it was.' 'No, indeed, + it's worse!' Then says the Captain: 'Well, really, I do think you might + make allowances for me a little, after I've—I mean, considering what + you did yourself this summer.' 'Yes, you're right,' says Fruen, beginning + to cry. 'If you knew how it hurts and plagues me night and day, thinking + of that.... But I've never said a word.' 'No, I know,' says she, crying + all the more. 'And I asked you myself to come back,' he said. But at that + she seemed to think he was taking too much credit to himself; she stopped + crying, and answered, with a toss of her head: 'Yes, and it would have + been better if you'd never asked me back, if it was only to go on like + this.' 'Like what?' says he. 'You've your own way in everything now. The + same as before, only you don't care for anything at all. You never touch + the piano, even; only go about cross and irritable all the time; there's + no pleasing you with anything. And you shut your door at night and lock me + out. Well and good; lock me out if you like!' 'It's you that are hard to + please, if you ask me,' she said. 'There's never a night and never a + morning but I'm worried out of my life lest you shall be thinking of—this + summer. You've never said a word about it, you say. Oh, don't you, though! + I'm never left long in peace without you throwing it in my teeth. I + happened to say “Hugo” one day, by a slip of the tongue, and what did you + do? You might have been nice and comforted me to help me over it, but you + only scowled and said you were not Hugo. No. I knew well enough, and I was + ever so sorry to have said it.' 'That's just the point,' said the Captain. + 'Were you really sorry?' 'Yes, indeed,' said Fruen; 'it hurt me ever so.' + 'Well, I shouldn't have thought it; you don't seem very upset about it.' + 'Ah, but what about you? Haven't you anything to be sorry for?' 'You've + got photos of Hugo on your piano still; I haven't seen you move them away + yet, though I've shown you not once but fifty times I wished you to—yes, + and begged you to do it.' 'Oh, what a fuss you make about those photos!' + said she. 'Oh, don't make any mistake! I'm not asking you now. If you went + and shifted them now, it would make no difference. I've begged and prayed + of you fifty times before. Only, I think it would have been a little more + decent if you'd burned them the day you came home. But, instead of that, + you've books here lying about in your room with his name in. And there's a + handkerchief with his initials on, I see.' 'Oh, it's all your jealousy,' + answered Fruen. 'I can't see what difference it makes. I can't kill him, + as you'd like me to, and Papa and Mama say the same. After all, I've lived + with him and been married to him.' 'Married to him?' 'Yes, that's what I + say. It isn't every one that looks at Hugo and me the way you do.' The + Captain sat a while, shaking his head. 'And it's all your own fault, + really,' Fruen went on, 'the way you drove off with Elisabet that time, + though I came and asked you not to go. It was then it happened. And we'd + been drinking that evening. I didn't quite know what I was doing.' Still, + the Captain said nothing for a while; then at last he said: 'Yes, I ought + not to have gone off like that.' 'No, but you did,' said Fruen, and + started crying again. 'You wouldn't hear a word. And you're always + throwing it in my teeth about Hugo, but you never think of what you've + done yourself.' 'There's just this difference,' says the Captain, 'that + I've never lived with the lady you mention, never been married to her, as + you call it.' Fruen gave a little scornful laugh. 'Never!' said the + Captain, striking the table with his hand. Fruen gave a start, and sat + staring at him. 'Then—I don't understand why you were always running + after her and sitting out in the summer-house and lurking in corners,' + said she. 'It was you that sat out in the summer-house,' he answered. 'Oh + yes, it's always me,' said she. 'Never you by any chance!' 'As for my + running after Elisabet,' said the Captain, 'it was solely and simply in + the hopes of getting you back. You'd drifted away from me, and I wanted + you.' Fruen sat thinking over that for a minute, then she sprang up and + threw her arms around him and said: 'Oh, then you cared for me all the + time! And I thought it was all over. You'd drifted away from me, too; it + was years since. And it all seemed so hopeless. I never thought—I + never knew.... And then it was me you cared for all the time! Oh, my dear, + then it's all come right again.' 'Sit down,' said he. 'You seem to forget + that something else has happened since.' 'Something else?' 'There you are, + you've forgotten all about it. May I ask you, are you sorry enough for + what's happened since?' At that Fruen turned hard again and said: 'Oh, you + mean about Hugo? That's done and can't be altered.' 'That doesn't answer + the question.' 'If I'm sorry enough? What about you; are you so innocent + yourself?' At this the Captain got up and began walking up and down. 'The + trouble is that we've no children,' said Fruen. 'I haven't a daughter that + I could teach and bring up to be better than I am,' 'I've thought of + that,' said the Captain, 'perhaps you're right.' Then he turned straight + towards her and said: 'It's a nasty crash that's come over us, Lovise—like + a landslide. But don't you think now we might set to work and shift away + all the wreckage that's been burying us for years, and get clear and + breathe again? You might have a daughter yet!' At that Fruen got up and + made as if to say something, but couldn't. 'Yes,' was all she said, and + 'Yes,' she said again. 'You're tired and nervous, I know,' he said. 'But + think a little over what I've said. Another time.' 'Good-night,' said + she.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI + </h2> + <p> + The Captain spoke to Nils about the timber; he thought of disposing of the + whole lot, or selling it standing. Nils took this to mean that he didn't + like the idea of having more new folk about the place. “It looks like + things are as bad as ever with him and Fruen,” said Nils. + </p> + <p> + We are getting in the potatoes now, and since we are thus far there is + less hurry and anxiety about the work. But there is still much to be done. + The ploughing is behindhand, and Lars Falkenberg and I are both at it, + field and meadow land. + </p> + <p> + Nils, queer creature that he was, began to find things intolerable at + Øvrebø again, and talked of throwing up his place and going off + altogether. But he couldn't bear the disgrace of leaving his service like + that. Nils had his own clear notions of honour, handed down through many + generations. A young man from a big farm could not behave like a lad from + a cottar's holding. And then he hadn't been here long enough yet; Øvrebø + had been sadly ill-managed before he came: it would take some years to + bring it round again. It was only this year, when he'd had more help with + the work, that he'd been able to do anything properly. But from now onward + he might begin to look for some result of his work; look at this year's + harvest, the fine heavy grain! The Captain, too, had looked at the crops + with wonder and thankfulness—the first time for many years. There + would be plenty to sell. + </p> + <p> + All things considered, then, it was senseless for Nils to think of leaving + Øvrebø. But he must go home for a couple of days to his people—they + lived a little way north of us. So he gave himself two days' leave as soon + as the potatoes were all out of the ground. No doubt he'd good reason for + going—perhaps to see his sweetheart, we thought—and when he + came back he was bright and full of energy as ever, and took up work again + at once. + </p> + <p> + We were sitting at dinner in the kitchen one day when out comes Fruen from + the front door of the house, and goes tearing down the road, all wild and + excited. Then the Captain came out, calling after her: “Lovise, what is + it, Lovise? Where are you going?” But Fruen only called back: “Leave me + alone!” + </p> + <p> + We looked at one another. Ragnhild rose from the table; she must go after + her mistress, she said. + </p> + <p> + “That's right,” said Nils, calm as ever. “But go indoors first and see if + she's moved those photographs.” + </p> + <p> + “They're still there,” said Ragnhild as she went out. + </p> + <p> + Outside, we heard the Captain telling her to go and look after her + mistress. + </p> + <p> + There was no one but took thought for Fruen in her distress. + </p> + <p> + We went out to the fields again. Said Nils to me: + </p> + <p> + “She ought to take away those photos; it's not right of her to leave them + there. I don't know what she can be thinking of to do it.” + </p> + <p> + What do you know about it? I thought to myself. Oh, I was so clever with + my knowledge of the world, and all I'd learned on my wanderings, I thought + I would try him now; perhaps he was only showing off. + </p> + <p> + “I can't understand why the Captain hasn't taken and burnt them long ago,” + said I. + </p> + <p> + “No, that's all wrong,” said Nils. “I wouldn't have done that either.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn't be for me to do it, but for her.” + </p> + <p> + We walked on a little. And then Nils said a thing that showed his sound + and right instinct. + </p> + <p> + “Poor lady!” he said. “She's not got over that slip of hers this summer; + it's troubling her still. From all I can see, there's some people pick up + again all right after a fall, and go on through life with no more than the + mark of a bruise. But there's some that never get over it.” + </p> + <p> + “Fruen seems to be taking it easy enough,” said I, still trying him. + </p> + <p> + “How can we tell? She's been unlike herself, to my mind, ever since she's + been back,” he answered. “She's got to live, of course, but she's lost all + harmony, perhaps. I don't know much about it, but harmony, that's what I + mean. Oh yes, she can eat and laugh and sleep, no doubt, but ... I + followed one such to the grave, but now....” + </p> + <p> + And at that I was no longer cold and wise, but foolish and ashamed, and + only said: + </p> + <p> + “So it was that? She died, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. She wished it so,” said Nils. And then suddenly: “Well, you and Lars + get on with the ploughing. We ought soon to be through with things now.” + </p> + <p> + And we went each our separate way. + </p> + <p> + I thought to myself: a sister of his, perhaps, that had gone wrong, and + he'd been home and followed her to the grave. <i>Herregud!</i> there are + some that never get over it; it shakes them to their foundations; a + revolution. All depends on whether they're coarse enough. Only the mark of + a bruise, said Nils. A sudden thought came to me, and I stopped: perhaps + it was not his sister, but his sweetheart. + </p> + <p> + Some association of ideas led me to think of my washing. I decided to send + the lad up for it. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + It was evening. + </p> + <p> + Ragnhild came to me and begged me to keep awake again; there was dreadful + trouble up at the house. Ragnhild herself was greatly upset, and dared not + sit anywhere now in the half-dark but upon my knees. It was always so with + her; emotion made her frightened and tender—frightened and tender, + yes. + </p> + <p> + “But can you be away like this? Is there any one in your place in the + kitchen?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Cook's going to listen for the bell. You know, I side with the + Captain,” she declared. “I've sided with him all along.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's only because he's a man.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it's not.” + </p> + <p> + “You'd much better side with Fruen.” + </p> + <p> + “You only say that because she's a woman,” answered Ragnhild in her turn. + “But you don't know all I do. Fruen's so unreasonable. We didn't care a + bit about her, she said, and left her all to herself, whatever might + happen. Did you ever hear such a thing, when I'd just gone after her. And + then there's another dreadful thing....” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to hear any more,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “But I haven't been listening outside—what are you thinking of? I + was there in the same room, and heard them.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you? Well, well, stay here till you've calmed down a little; then + we'll go and find Nils.” + </p> + <p> + And so frightened and tender was Ragnhild that she threw her arms round me + because I was kind to her. A strange girl! + </p> + <p> + Then we went down to Nils. + </p> + <p> + “Ragnhild thinks that somebody ought to keep awake for a bit,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Ragnhild. “Oh, it's so dreadful—worse than ever it's + been! Heaven knows what the Captain'll do! Perhaps he won't go to bed at + all. Oh, she's fond of him and he's fond of her, too; only, everything's + all wrong! When she went running off like that today, the Captain was + standing outside the house, and said to me: 'Go and look after your + mistress, Ragnhild,' and I went after her, and there she was, standing + behind a tree down the road, and she just stood there, crying, and smiled + at me. I tried to get her to come in again, but she said we didn't care + about her; it didn't matter where she went. 'The Captain sent me after + you,' said I. 'Did he, though?' she asked. 'Now? Was it just now?' 'Yes,' + said I. 'Wait, then,' she said, and stood quite a while. 'Take those + hateful books that are lying in my room and burn them,' she said; and + then: 'Oh no, I'll do it myself, but I'll ring for you after supper, and + then you must come up at once.' 'I will,' said I, and then I got her to + come in.” + </p> + <p> + “And you know,” said Ragnhild suddenly, “she's going to have a child.” + </p> + <p> + We looked at one another. Nils' face grew, as it were, veiled beneath a + film of something indistinct. All expression faded, the eyes asleep. But + why should it affect him so? For the sake of saying something, I turned to + Ragnhild and asked: + </p> + <p> + “Fruen was going to ring for you, you said?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and so she did. There was something she wanted to tell the Captain, + but she was afraid, and wanted to have me there. 'Light a candle and pick + up all this host of buttons I've upset,' she said. And then she called out + to the Captain in his room. I lit the candle and began picking up buttons; + dozens of them there were, all sorts. The Captain came in. 'I only wanted + to tell you,' says Fruen at once, 'that it was kind of you to send + Ragnhild after me to-day. Heaven bless you for that!' 'Never mind about + that, my dear,' says he. 'You were nervous, you know.' 'Yes, I'm all + nerves just now,' she answered, 'but I hope it'll get better in time. No, + the trouble is that I haven't a daughter I could bring up to be really + good. There's nothing I can do!' The Captain sat down on a chair. 'Oh yes, + there is,' he said. 'Yes, you say? Oh, I know it says in that book + there.... Oh, those hateful books!—Ragnhild take them away and burn + them,' she says. 'No, wait, I'll tear them to bits now myself and put them + in the stove here.' And then she started pulling them to pieces, taking + ever so many pages at a time and throwing them in the stove. 'Don't be so + excited, Lovise,' said the Captain. <i>'The Nunnery,''</i> she said—that + was one of the books. 'But I can't go into a nunnery. There's nothing I + can do. When I laugh, you think I'm laughing,' she said to the Captain, + 'but I'm miserable all the time and not laughing a bit.' 'Is your + toothache any better?' he asked. 'Oh, that toothache won't be better for a + long time to come!' she said; 'you know that well enough.' 'No, indeed, I + don't.' 'You don't know?' 'No.' 'But, heavens! can't you see what's the + matter with me?' said Fruen. The Captain only looked at her and did not + answer. 'I'm—oh, you said today I might have a daughter after all, + don't you remember?' I happened to look up at the Captain just then....” + </p> + <p> + Ragnhild smiled and shook her head; then she went on: + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forgive me for smiling, but the Captain's face was so queer; he + stood there like a sheep. 'Didn't you guess as much before?' asked Fruen. + The Captain looked over at me and said: 'What's that you're doing there + all this time?' 'I asked her to pick up those buttons for me,' said Fruen. + 'I've finished now,' said I. 'Have you?' said Fruen, getting up. 'Let me + see.' And she took the box and dropped them again all over the floor. Oh, + they went rolling all over the place, under the table, under the bed and + the stove! 'There, now, did you ever see such a mess?' said Fruen. But + then she went off again at once talking about herself, and said again: + 'But I can't understand you didn't you see I was—didn't see what was + the matter with me.' Can't those buttons wait till tomorrow?' said the + Captain. 'Why, yes, perhaps they can,' said Fruen. 'But then I'll be + treading on them everywhere. I can't ... I'm rather afraid of stooping + just now.... But, never mind, we'll leave them for now,' she said, and + stroked his hand. 'Oh, my dear, my dear!' she says. But he drew his hand + away. 'Oh, so you're angry with me!' she said. 'But then, why did you + write and ask me to come back?' 'My dear Lovise, we're not alone here,' he + says. 'But surely you must know what made you write?' 'I suppose it was + because I hoped things would come right again.' 'And they didn't?' 'Well, + no!' 'But what was in your mind when you wrote? Were you thinking of me? + Did you want me again? I can't make out what was in your mind.' + 'Ragnhild's finished, I see,' said the Captain. 'Good-night, Ragnhild!'” + </p> + <p> + “And then you came away?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I dare not go far because of Fruen. You may be sure it wasn't + nice for her when I was out of the room, so I had to be somewhere at hand. + And if the Captain had come and found me and said anything, I'd have told + him straight out I wasn't going farther away with Fruen in the state she + was. As it happened, he didn't come at all, but they began again in there. + 'I know what you're thinking of,' said Fruen—'that perhaps it's not + ... it wouldn't be your child. Oh yes, indeed it might be so! But, God + knows, I can't find words this moment to make you forgive me!' she said, + all crying. 'Oh, my dear, forgive me, forgive me!' said Fruen, and went + down on her knees on the floor. 'You've seen what I did with the books, + and that handkerchief with the initials on—I burnt that before, and + the books, you know....' 'Yes, and—here's another handkerchief with + the same initials on—' says the Captain. 'Oh, heavens! yes, you're + ever so considerate, Lovise.' Fruen was all upset at that. 'I'm sorry you + should have seen it,' she said. 'It must be one I brought back with me + when I came home. I haven't looked through my things properly since. But + does it really matter so very much? Surely—' 'Oh no,' said he. 'And + if you'd only listen to me,' she went on, I'm almost certain it's you that + ... I mean, that the child is yours. Why should it not be? Oh, I don't + know how to say it!' 'Sit down again,' said the Captain. But Fruen must + have misunderstood; she got up and said: 'There you are! You won't listen + to me. Really, I can't make out why you ever wrote to me at all. You might + just as well have left me alone.' Then the Captain said something about + being in prison; if a man grew up in a prison yard, he said, and you take + him out, he'll long to be back in his prison yard again, he said. It was + something like that, anyway. 'Yes, but I was with Papa and Mama, and they + weren't hard like you; they said I had been married to him, and weren't + unkind to me at all. It isn't every one that looks at things like you do,' + 'You don't want that candle alight now Ragnhild's gone, do you?' said the + Captain. 'It looks so out of place to have it burning there beside the + lamp—as if it were ashamed.' 'Ashamed of me,' she says quickly. 'Oh + yes, that was what you meant. But you've been to blame as well.' 'Don't + misunderstand me,' he says. 'I know I've been to blame. But that doesn't + make your part any better.' 'Oh, you think not? Well, of all the.... So + yours doesn't count, then?' 'Yes, I say I've been to blame, not in the way + you mean, but in other ways—in old things and new.' 'Oh, indeed!' + 'Yes, but I don't come home bringing the fruits of it under my heart to + you.' 'No,' says Fruen, 'but you know it was you all along that wouldn't + ... that didn't want us to have children. And I didn't want it, either, + but you ought to have known better. And they said the same thing at home. + If only I'd had a daughter....' 'Oh, don't let's go over all that again,' + says the Captain—he called it something or other—a romance, I + think it was. 'But it's true,' says Fruen, 'and I can't think how you can + deny it.' 'I'm not denying anything. Do sit down, now, Lovise, and listen + to me. All this about having children, and a daughter to bring up and so + on, it's something you've picked up lately. And, you snatched at the idea + at once, to save yourself. But you never said a word about wanting + children before—not that I ever heard.' 'Yes, but you ought to have + known better.' 'There again, that's something you've heard, something new. + But it doesn't matter: quite possibly things might have been different if + we'd had children. I can see that myself now, but now it's too late, + more's the pity. And here you are now—like that....' 'Oh, heavens, + yes! But I tell you it may be yours after all—I don't know.... + Oh!...' 'Mine? said the Captain, shaking his head. 'Well, the mother + should be the one to know. But in this case, it seems, she doesn't. The + woman I'm married to doesn't know—or do you?' But Fruen did not + answer. <i>'Do</i> you know? I ask you!' Oh, but again she could not + answer, only slipped down to the floor again and cried. Really, I don't + know—but perhaps I'm on her side after all; it was dreadful for her, + poor thing. And then I was just going to knock at the door and go in, but + then the Captain went on again. 'You can't say it,' he said. 'But that's + an answer in itself, and plain enough.' 'I can't say more,' said Fruen. + She was still crying. 'I'm fond of you for lots of things, Lovise,' says + the Captain, 'and one of them's because you're truthful.' 'Thank you,' she + says. 'They haven't taught you to lie as yet. Get up, now.' And he helped + her up himself, and set her in the chair. But it was pitiful to see her + crying so. 'Don't cry, now,' he says. 'I want to ask you something. Shall + we wait and see what it's like when it comes—what sort of eyes it + has, and so on?' 'Oh, heaven bless you, yes, if you would! Oh, my dear, + God bless you, God bless you.' 'And I'll try to bear with things as they + are. It's an aching misery all the time, but I'll try. And I've been to + blame as well.' 'God bless you, God bless you!' she said again. 'And you,' + he said. 'And now good-night until tomorrow.' Then Fruen leaned down over + the table and cried and cried so dreadfully. 'What are you crying for + now?' he asked. 'You're going,' she said. 'Oh, I was afraid of you before, + but now I can't bear to be without you. Couldn't you stay a little?' 'Stay + here, with you, now?' he asked. 'Oh no, I didn't mean ... it wasn't that + ... only, it's so lonely. I didn't mean....' 'No,' said the Captain. 'You + can understand I don't feel like staying any longer now. Ring for the + maid!'” + </p> + <p> + “And then I had to run,” Ragnhild concluded. + </p> + <p> + Said Nils, after a while: “Have they gone to bed now?” + </p> + <p> + Ragnhild could not say. Yes. Perhaps. Anyhow, Cook was there in case. + “But, only think of it, how dreadful! I don't suppose Fruen can sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “You'd better go and see if there's anything you can do.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Ragnhild, getting up. “But I side with the Captain after all, + and no mistake, whatever you say. Yes, that I do.” + </p> + <p> + “It's none so easy to know what's right.” + </p> + <p> + “Only think of letting that engineer creature.... How she ever could, I + don't know! And then to go down and stay with him there, after, as she + did; what a thing to do! And she's all those handkerchiefs of his, ever so + many, and a lot of her own are gone; I suppose they used each other's + anyhow. Lived with him, she said! And she with a husband of her own!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII + </h2> + <p> + The Captain has done as he said about the timber; there's a cracking and + crashing in the woods already. And a mild autumn, too, with no frost in + the ground as yet to stop the ploughing; Nils grasps at the time like a + miser, to save as much as possible next spring. + </p> + <p> + Now comes the question whether Grindhusen and I are to work on the timber. + It crosses my mind that I had intended really to go off for a tramp up in + the hills and over the moors while the berries were there; what about that + journey now? And another thing, Grindhusen was no longer worth his keep as + a wood-cutter; he could hold one end of a saw, but that was about all he + was good for now. + </p> + <p> + No, for Grindhusen was changed somehow; devil knows how it had come about. + He had not grown bald at all; his hair was there, and thick and red as + ever. But he had picked up a deal at Øvrebø, and went about bursting with + health and good feeding; well off here? He had sent good sums of money + home to his family all that summer and autumn, and was full of praise for + Captain and Freun, who paid such good wages and treated their folk so + well. Not like the Inspector, that weighed and counted every miserable + Skilling, and then, as true as God's in heaven, go and take off two Kroner + that he'd given as clear as could be ... ugh! He, Grindhusen, was not the + man to make a fuss about a wretched two Kroner, as long as it was a matter + of any sense or reason, but to go and take it off like that—<i>fy + Fan!</i> Would you ever find the Captain doing such a thing? + </p> + <p> + But Grindhusen was grown so cautious now, and wouldn't even get properly + angry with any one. Even yet, perhaps, he might go back and work for the + Inspector on the river at two Kroner a day, and humbly agree with all his + master said. Age, time, had overtaken him. + </p> + <p> + It overtakes us all. + </p> + <p> + Said the Captain: + </p> + <p> + “That water-supply you spoke about—is it too late to do anything + with it this year?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + The Captain nodded and walked away. + </p> + <p> + I ploughed one day more, then the Captain came to me again. He was out and + about everywhere these days, working hard, keeping an eye on everything. + He gave himself barely time for a proper meal, but was out again at once, + in the fields, the barn, the cattle-sheds, or up in the woods where the + men were at work. + </p> + <p> + “You'd better get to work on that water-supply,” he said. “The ground's + workable still, and may stay so for a long time yet. What help will you + want?” + </p> + <p> + “Grindhusen can help,” I said. “But....” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and Lars. What were you going to say?” + </p> + <p> + “The frost may set in any day now.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and then it may snow and soften the ground again. We're not + frost-bound here every year,” said the Captain. “You'd better take a few + extra hands, and set some of them to digging, the rest to the masonry + work. You've done all this before, I think you said?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And I've spoken to Nils myself,” he said, with a smile. “So you'll have + no trouble in that way. You can put the horses in now.” + </p> + <p> + So bravely cheerful he was, I could not help feeling the same, and wanted + to begin at once; I hurried back with the horses, almost at a run. The + Captain seemed quite eager about this water-supply, now that the place + looked so nice with its new paint, and after the fine harvest we'd had. + And now he was cutting a thousand dozen battens in the woods, to pay off + his debts and leave something over! + </p> + <p> + So I went off up the rising ground, and found the old place I had marked + down long before for the reservoir, took the depth down to the house, + pacing and measuring this way and that. There was a streamlet came down + from the hillside far above, with such a depth and fall that it never + froze in winter; the thing would be to build a small stone reservoir here, + with openings at the sides for the overflow in autumn and spring. Oh, but + they should have their water-supply at Øvrebø! As for the masonry work, we + could break out our stone on the site itself; there was layer on layer of + granite there. + </p> + <p> + By noon next day we were hard at work, Lars Falkenberg digging the trench + for the pipe-line, Grindhusen and I getting stone. We were both well used + to this work from the days when we had been road-making together at + Skreia. + </p> + <p> + Well and good. + </p> + <p> + We worked four days; then it was Sunday. I remember that Sunday, the sky + clear and far, the leaves all fallen in the woods, and the hillside + showing only its calm winter green; smoke rose from the chimney up in the + clearing. Lars had borrowed a horse and cart that afternoon to drive in to + the station; he had killed a pig and was sending it in to town. He was to + fetch letters for the Captain on the way back. + </p> + <p> + It occurred to me that this evening would be a good time to send the lad + up to the clearing for my washing: Lars was away, and no one could take + offence at that washing business now. + </p> + <p> + Oh yes, I said to myself, you're very careful to do what's right and + proper, sending the lad up to fetch that washing. But you'll find it isn't + that at all. Right and proper, indeed; you're getting old, that's what it + is. + </p> + <p> + I bore with this reproach for an hour. Then—well, it was all + nonsense, like as not, and here was a lovely evening, and Sunday into the + bargain, nothing to do, no one to talk to down here.... Getting old, was + I? Afraid of the walk uphill? + </p> + <p> + And I went up myself. + </p> + <p> + Early next morning Lars Falkenberg came over again. He drew me aside, as + he had done once before, and with the same intent: I had been up to the + clearing yesterday, it seemed; it was to be the last time, and would I + please to make no mistake about that! + </p> + <p> + “It was the last of my washing, anyhow,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you and your washing! As if I couldn't have brought along your + miserable shirt a hundred times since you've been here!” + </p> + <p> + Now, by what sort of magic had he got to know of my little walk up there + already? Ragnhild, of course, at her old tricks again—it could be no + one else. There was no doing anything with that girl. + </p> + <p> + But now, as it happened, Nils was at hand this time, as he had been the + time before. He came strolling over innocently from the kitchen, and in a + moment Lars's anger was turned upon him instead. + </p> + <p> + “Here's the other scarecrow coming up, too,” says Lars, “and he's a long + sight worse than you.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that you say?” said Nils. + </p> + <p> + “What's that you say!” retorted Lars. “You go home and rinse your mouth + with a mixture or something, and see if you can talk plain,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Nils stopped short at this, and came up to see what it was all about. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what you're talking about,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “No, of course not. You don't know anything that's any sense. But you know + all about ploughing in standing crops, don't you? There's not many can + beat you at that.” + </p> + <p> + But here Nils grew angry for once, and his cheeks paled. + </p> + <p> + “What an utter fool you are, Lars! Can't you keep your mouth shut with + that nonsense?” + </p> + <p> + “Fool, eh? Hark at the silly goat!” said Lars, turning to me. “Thinks + himself mighty fine, doesn't he? 'Utter'” he says—and goes white + about it. “I've been more years than you at Øvrebø, and asked in to sing + up at the house of an evening more than once, let me tell you. But things + have changed since then, and what have we got instead? You remember,” he + said, turning to me, “what it was like in the old days. It was Lars here + and Lars there, and I never heard but the work got done all right. And + after me it was Albert, that was here for eighteen months. But then you, + Nils, came along, and now it's toil and moil and ploughing and carting + manure day and night, till a man's worn to a thread with it all.” + </p> + <p> + Nils and I could not help laughing at this. And Lars was in no way + offended; he seemed quite pleased at having said something funny, and, + forgetting his ill-will, joined in the laugh himself. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I say it straight out,” said he. “And if it wasn't for you being a + friendly sort between whiles—no, friendly I won't say, but someways + decent and to get on with after a fashion ... if it wasn't for that....” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what then?” + </p> + <p> + Lars was getting more and more good humoured. “Oh,” he said, with a laugh, + “I could just pick you up and stuff you down in your own long boots.” + </p> + <p> + “Like to feel my arm?” said Nils. + </p> + <p> + “What's going on here?” asked the Captain, coming up. It was only six + o'clock, but he was out and about already. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Lars and Nils as well. + </p> + <p> + “How's the reservoir getting on?” asked the Captain. This was to me, but + before I could answer he turned to Nils. “I shall want the boy to drive me + to the station,” he said. “I'm going to Christiania.” + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen and I went off to our work on the reservoir, and Lars to his + digging. But a shadow seemed to have fallen over us all. + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen himself said openly: “Pity the Captain's going away.” + </p> + <p> + I thought so, too. But he was obliged to go in on business, no doubt. + There were the crops as well as the timber to be sold. But why should he + start at that hour of the day? He couldn't catch the early train in any + case. Had there been trouble again? Was he anxious to be out of the way + before Fruen got up? + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Trouble there was, often enough. + </p> + <p> + It had gone so far by this time that the Captain and Fruen hardly spoke to + one another, and whenever they did exchange a word it was in a careless + tone, and looking all the other way. Now and again the Captain would look + his wife properly in the face, and say she ought to be out more in the + lovely air; and once when she was outside he asked if she wouldn't come in + and play a little. But this, perhaps, was only to keep up appearances, no + more. + </p> + <p> + It was pitiful to see. + </p> + <p> + Fruen was quiet and nice. Now and again she would stand outside on the + steps looking out towards the hills; so soft her features were, and her + reddish yellow hair. But it was dull for her now—no visitors, no + music and entertaining, nothing but sorrow and shame. + </p> + <p> + The Captain had promised to bear with things as they were, and surely he + was bearing all he could. But he could do no more. Disaster had come to + the home, and the best will in the world could not shoulder it off. If + Fruen happened to be hasty, as she might now and then, and forgot to be + grateful, the Captain would look down at the floor, and it would not be + long before he put on his hat and went out. All the maids knew about it, + and I had seen it myself once or twice. He never forgot what she had done—how + could he?—though he could keep from speaking of it. But could he + keep from speaking of it when she forgot herself and said: + </p> + <p> + “You know I'm not well just now; you know I can't walk far like I used + to!” + </p> + <p> + “S—sh, Lovise!” he would say, with a frown. And then the mischief + was there as bad as ever. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course you must bring that up again!” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed! It's you that brought it up yourself. You've lost all sense + of modesty, I think; you seem to have no shame left.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I wish I'd never come back at all! I was better off at home!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, or living with that puppy, I dare say.” + </p> + <p> + “You said he'd helped you once yourself. And I often wish I were back + there with him again. Hugo's a great deal better than you are.” + </p> + <p> + She was all irresponsible in her words, going, perhaps, further than she + meant. But she was changed out of knowledge to us all, and spoiled and + shameless now. Fru Falkenberg shameless! Nay, perhaps not; who could say? + Yet she was not ashamed to come out in the kitchen of an evening and say + nice things to Nils about how young and strong he was. I was jealous + again, no doubt, and envied Nils for his youth, for I thought to myself: + Is every one gone mad? Surely we older ones are far to be preferred! Was + it his innocence that attracted her? Or was she merely trying to keep up + her spirits a little—trying to be younger than she was? But then one + day she came up to the reservoir where Grindhusen and I were at work, and + sat watching us for a while. It was easy work then for half an hour; the + granite turned pliable, and yielded to our will; we built away like + giants. Oh, but Fruen sat there irresponsible as ever, letting her eyes + play this way and that. Why could she not rid herself of this new habit of + hers? Her eyes were too earnest for such playing; it did not suit her. I + thought to myself, either she was trying to make up for her foolishness + towards Nils by favouring us in turn, or starting a new game altogether—which + would it be? I could not make it out, and as for Grindhusen, he saw + nothing in it at all, but only said, when Fruen had gone: “Eh, she's a + strange, kind-hearted soul, is Fruen. Almost like a mother. Only fancy + going and feeling if the water wasn't too cold for us!” + </p> + <p> + One day, when I was standing by the kitchen entrance, she said: + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember the old days here—when you first came?” + </p> + <p> + She had never once spoken of this till now, and I did not know what to + say. I stammered out: Yes, I remembered. + </p> + <p> + “You drove me down to the Vicarage once,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Then I half fancied that perhaps she was not disinclined to talk to me and + occupy her mind a little; I felt I must help her, make it easier for her. + And perhaps I was a little touched myself at the thought. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said, “I remember. It was a glorious drive. But Fruen must have + found it cold towards the last.” + </p> + <p> + “It was you that must have felt cold,” she answered. “You lent me your own + rug from the box. Oh, you poor thing!” + </p> + <p> + I was even more moved at this, and foolish ideas came into my head. Ah, + then she had not forgotten me! The few years that had passed since then + had not made so much difference in me after all! + </p> + <p> + “Fruen must be mistaken about the rug, I think,” said I. “But I remember + we stopped at a cottage to eat, and the woman made coffee, and you gave me + things yourself.” + </p> + <p> + As I spoke, I leaned up against the fence, with my arms round a post. + Perhaps this somehow offended her, looking as if I expected her to stand + gossiping there with me. And then I had said, “We stopped at a cottage,” + as if we had been equals. It was a bad mistake on my part, of course, but + I had got a little out of hand after all these vagabond months. + </p> + <p> + I stood up straight again the moment I saw she was displeased, but it was + too late. She was just as kind as ever, but she had grown suspicious and + easily hurt with all her trouble, and found rudeness in what was merely + awkwardness of mine. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” she said, “I hope you find yourself as comfortable now at + Øvrebø as before.” + </p> + <p> + And she nodded and walked away. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Some days passed. The Captain had not come back, but he had sent a post + card, with a kind message, to Fruen: he hoped to be home again next week. + He was also sending pipes, taps, and cement for the water supply. + </p> + <p> + Fruen showed me that card. “Here,” she said, “the Captain has sent these + things for your work. You had better get them down from the station.” + </p> + <p> + We stood there together, looking at the card; mid-day it was, and we were + just outside the house. I can't say how it was, but I was standing there + quite close to her, with my head bent in towards hers, and it made me feel + happy all through. When she had finished reading she looked up at me. No + play of her eyes now; but she must have caught some expression in my face, + for she looked at me still. Did she feel my presence as I felt hers? Those + two heavy eyes raised towards mine and held there were loaded to the brim + with love. She could not be responsible for her actions now. There was a + pathological depth in her glance, an influence from far within, from the + life she bore under her heart. Her breath came heavily, her face flushed + dark all over, then she swung round and walked slowly away. + </p> + <p> + There I stood, with the card in my hand. Had she given it to me? Had I + taken it? + </p> + <p> + “Your card,” I said. “Shall I....” + </p> + <p> + She held out her hand without looking round, and walked on. + </p> + <p> + This little episode occupied my mind a great deal for some days. Ought I + to have gone after her when she walked away? Oh, I might have tried, might + have made the attempt—her door was not far off. Pathological? But + what had she brought me the card for at all? She could have told me by + word of mouth what there was to say. I called to mind how six years before + we had stood in just that same way reading a telegram the Captain had sent + her. Did she find pleasure in situations of that sort, and go out of her + way to seek them? + </p> + <p> + Next time I saw her there was no trace of any embarassment in her manner—she + was kind and cold. So I had to let it drop altogether. And, anyhow, what + did I want with her at all? No, indeed! + </p> + <p> + Some visitors came to see her one day—a neighbour's wife, with her + daughter. They had heard, no doubt, that the Captain was away, and thought + she might be glad of a little society; or perhaps they had come out of + curiosity. They were well received; Fru Falkenberg was amiable as ever, + and even played the piano for them. When they left, she went with them + down to the road, talking sensibly of practical affairs, though she might + well have had other things in her head than coops and killing pigs. Oh, + she was full of kindly interest in it all! “Come again soon—or you, + at any rate, Sofie....” “Thanks, thanks. But aren't you ever coming over + to us at Nedrebø?” “Oh, I? Of course—yes. I'd walk down with you now + if it weren't so late.” “Well, tomorrow, then?” “Yes, perhaps I might come + over tomorrow.—Oh, is that you?” This was to Ragnhild, who had come + down with a shawl. “Oh, what an idea!—did you think I should catch + cold?” + </p> + <p> + Altogether things were looking brighter now at Øvrebø; we no longer felt + that shadow of uneasiness over us all. Grindhusen and I worked away at our + famous reservoir, and Lars was getting on farther every day with his + trench. Seeing the Captain was away, I wanted to make the most of the + time, and perhaps have the work nearly done by the time he came back; it + would be a grand thing if we could get it finished altogether! He would be + all the better for a pleasant little surprise, for—yes, there had + been something of a scene the night before he left. Some new reminder, no + doubt, of the trouble that had come upon his house; a book, perhaps, still + unburnt, lying about in Fruen's room. He had ended up by saying: “Anyhow, + I'm cutting timber now to pay it off. And the harvest we've got in means a + lot of money. So I hope the Lord will forgive me—as I do Him. + Good-night, Lovise.” + </p> + <p> + When we had laid the last stone of the reservoir, and cement over all, I + went down with Grindhusen to help Lars with the trench—we took a + section each. The work went on easily and with a will—here and there + a stone had to be blasted out, or a tree felled up in the woods; but the + trench moved steadily upwards, until we had a long black line from the + house to the reservoir itself. Then we went back again and dug it out to + the proper depth. This was no ornamental work, but a trench—an + underground resting place for some pipes that were to be buried on the + spot. All we were concerned with was to get down below the reach of frost, + and that before the frost itself came to hinder us. Already it was coating + the fields at night. Nils himself left all else now, and came to lend a + hand. + </p> + <p> + But masonry and digging trenches are but work for the hands; my brain in + its idleness was busy all the while with every conceivable idea. As often + as I thought of that episode with the post card, it sent, as it were, a + glow all through me. Why should I think any more about it? No, of course + not. And I had not followed her to the door after all. + </p> + <p> + But there she stood, and you there. Her breath came towards you—a + taste of flesh. Out of a darkness she was, nay, not of earth. And her eyes—did + you mark her eyes? + </p> + <p> + And each time something in me turned at the thought—a nausea. A + meaningless succession of names poured in upon me, places of wild and + tender sound, whence she might be: Uganda, Antananarivo, Honolulu, + Venezuela, Atacama. Verse? Colours? I knew not what to do with the words. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0052" id="link2H_4_0052"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII + </h2> + <p> + Fruen has ordered the carriage to drive her to the station. + </p> + <p> + No sign of haste in her manner; she gives orders to the cook about packing + up some food for the journey, and when Nils asks which carriage he is to + take, she thinks for a moment, and decides to take the landau and pair. + </p> + <p> + So she went away. Nils himself drove for her. + </p> + <p> + They came back the same evening; they had turned back when half-way out. + </p> + <p> + Had Fruen forgotten something? She ordered fresh horses, and another + hamper of food; she was going off again at once. Nils was uneasy, and said + so; it was almost night, they would be driving in the dark; but Fruen + repeated her order. Meantime, she sat indoors and waited; she had not + forgotten anything; she did nothing now but sit staring before her. + Ragnhild went in and asked if there was anything she could do. No, thank + you. Fruen sat bowed forward as if weighted down by some deadly grief. + </p> + <p> + The carriage was ready, and Fruen came out. + </p> + <p> + Seeing Nils himself ready to drive again, she took pity on him, and said + she would have Grindhusen to drive this time. And she sat on the steps + till he came. + </p> + <p> + Then they drove off. It was a fine evening, and nice and cool for the + horses. + </p> + <p> + “She's past making out now,” said Nils. “I can't think what's come to her. + I'd no idea of anything, when suddenly she taps at the window and says + turn back. We were about half-way there. But never a word of starting out + again at once.” + </p> + <p> + “But she must have forgotten something, surely?” + </p> + <p> + “Ragnhild says no. She was indoors, and I thought for a moment of those + photograph things, if she was going to burn them; but they're still there. + No, she didn't do a single thing while she was back.” + </p> + <p> + We walked across the courtyard together. + </p> + <p> + “No,” Nils went on, “Fruen's in a bad way; she's lost all harmony for + everything. Where's she going off to now, do you think? Heaven knows; she + doesn't seem to be altogether sure of it herself. When we stopped to + breathe the horses, she said something about being in such a hurry, and + having to be in different places at once—and then she ought not + really to be away from home at all. 'Best for Fruen not to hurry about + anything,' I said, 'but just keep quiet.' But you know how she is + nowadays; there's no saying a word to her. She just looked at her watch + and said go on again.” + </p> + <p> + “Was this on the way to the station?” + </p> + <p> + “No, on the way back. She was quite excited, I thought.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps the Captain sent for her?” + </p> + <p> + Nils shook his head. “No. But perhaps—Lord knows. What was I going + to say—it's—tomorrow's Sunday, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; what then?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing. I was only thinking I'd use the day off to mark out firewood + for the winter. I've been thinking of that a long while. And it's easier + now than when the snow's about.” + </p> + <p> + Always thinking of his work, was Nils. He took a pride in it, and was + anxious now, moreover, to show his gratitude for the Captain's having + raised his wages since the harvest. + </p> + <p> + It is Sunday. + </p> + <p> + I walked up to have a look at the trench and the reservoir; a few more + good days now, and we should have the pipes laid down. I was quite excited + about it myself, and could hardly wait for tomorrow's working-day to begin + again. The Captain had not interfered in the arrangements, not with a + single word, but left all to me, so that it was no light matter to me if + the frost came now and upset it all. + </p> + <p> + When I got back, there was the landau outside the house—the horses + had been taken out. Grindhusen would about have had time to get back, I + thought; but why had he pulled up in front of the steps to the house? + </p> + <p> + I went into the kitchen. The maids came towards me; Fruen was in the + carriage, they said; 'she had come back once again. She had just been to + the station, but now she was going there again. Could I make out what was + the matter with her, now? + </p> + <p> + “Nervous, I expect,” said I. “Where's Nils?” + </p> + <p> + “Up in the woods. Said he'd be away some time. There's only us here now, + and we can't say more to her than we have.” + </p> + <p> + “And where's Grindhusen?” + </p> + <p> + “Changing the horses again. And Fruen's sitting there in the carriage and + won't get out. You go and speak to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, there's no great harm in her driving about a bit. Don't worry + about that.” + </p> + <p> + I went out to the carriage, my heart beating fast. How miserable and + desperate she must be! I opened the carriage door, and asked respectfully + if Fruen would let me drive this time. + </p> + <p> + She looked me calmly in the face. “No. What for?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Grindhusen might be a little done up, perhaps—I don't know....” + </p> + <p> + “He promised to drive,” she said. “And he's not done up. Isn't he nearly + ready?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't see him,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “Shut the door again, and tell him to come,” she commanded, wrapping + herself more closely as she spoke. + </p> + <p> + I went over to the stables. Grindhusen was harnessing a fresh pair of + horses. + </p> + <p> + “What's all this?” I asked. “Going off again, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—that is, I thought so,” said Grindhusen, stopping for a moment + as if in doubt. + </p> + <p> + “It looks queer. Where's Fruen going to, do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “No. She wanted to drive back again last night as soon as we got to the + station, but I told her that it was too much for either of us to drive + back then. So she slept at the hotel. But this morning it was home again, + if you please. And now she wants to go to the station again, she says. I + don't know, I'm sure....” + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen goes on harnessing up. + </p> + <p> + “Fruen said you were to make haste,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “All right, I'm coming. But these girths are the very devil.” + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you too tired to drive all that way again now?” + </p> + <p> + “No. You know well enough I can manage it all right. And she's given me + good money, too. Extra.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she, though?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, that she did. But she's a queer sort, is Fruen.” + </p> + <p> + Then said I: “I don't think you ought to go off again now.” + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen stopped short. “You think so? Well, now, I dare say you're + right.” + </p> + <p> + Just then came Fruen's voice from outside—she had come right over to + the stable door. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you ready yet? How much longer am I to sit waiting?” + </p> + <p> + “Ready this minute,” answered Grindhusen, and turned to again, busier than + ever. “It was only these girths.” + </p> + <p> + Fruen went back to the carriage. She ran, and the thick fur coat she had + on was too heavy for her, she had to balance with her arms. It was pitiful + to see; like a hen trying to escape across the barnyard, and flapping its + wings to help. + </p> + <p> + I went over to the carriage again, politely, even humbly. I took off my + cap, and begged Fruen to give up this new journey. + </p> + <p> + “You are not driving me!” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “No. But if Fruen would only give it up and stay at home....” + </p> + <p> + At this she was offended; she stared at me, looked me up and down, and + said: + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, but this is no business of yours. Because I got you dismissed + once....” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, it's not that!” I cried desperately, and could say no more. When + she took it that way I was helpless. + </p> + <p> + Just for one moment a wave of fury came over me; I had only to put out my + arms and I could lift her out of the carriage altogether, this child, this + pitiful hen! My arms must have twitched at the thought, for she gave a + sudden frightened start, and shifted in her seat. Then all at once the + reaction took me; I turned foolish and soft, and tried once more: + </p> + <p> + “It'll be so dismal for us all here if you go. Do let us try if we can't + hit on something between us to pass the time for you! I can read a little, + reading aloud, and there's Lars can sing. Perhaps I might tell stories—tell + of something or other. Here's Grindhusen coming; won't you let me tell him + you're not going after all?” + </p> + <p> + She softened at this, and sat thinking for a little. Then she said: + </p> + <p> + “You must be making a mistake altogether, I think. I am going to the + station to meet the Captain. He didn't come the first day, or yesterday + either, but he's sure to come some time. I'm driving over to meet him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “There you are. Now go. Is Grindhusen there?” + </p> + <p> + It was like a slap in the face for me. She was right; it sounded so + natural—oh, I had made a fool of myself again! + </p> + <p> + “Yes, here he is,” I answered. There was no more to be said. + </p> + <p> + And I put on my cap again, and helped Grindhusen myself with the harness. + So confused and shamed was I that I did not even ask pardon, but only + fretted this way and that way seeing to buckles and straps. + </p> + <p> + “You are driving then, Grindhusen?” called Fruen from the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Me? Yes, surely,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + Fruen pulled the door to with a bang, and the carriage drove off. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Has she gone?” asked the maids, clasping their hands. + </p> + <p> + “Gone—yes, of course. She's going to meet her husband.” + </p> + <p> + I strolled up to the reservoir again. Grindhusen away meant one man less; + why, then, the rest of us must work so much the harder. + </p> + <p> + But I had already come to realize that Fru Falkenberg had only silenced me + with a false excuse when she declared she was going to meet her husband. + What matter? The horses were rested; they had done no work the days Nils + had been helping us with the trench. But I had been a fool. I could have + got up on the box myself without asking leave. Well, and what then? Why, + then at least any later follies would have had to pass by way of me, more + or less, and I might have stopped them. He, he! infatuated old fool! Fruen + knew what she was doing, no doubt; she wanted to pay off old scores, and + be away when her husband came home. She was all indecision, would and + would not, would and would not, all the time; but the idea was there. And + I, simple soul—I had not set out a-wandering on purpose to attend to + the particular interests of married folk in love or out of it. 'Twas their + affair! Fru Falkenberg had changed for the worse. There was no denying it; + she had suffered damage, and was thoroughly spoiled now; it hardly + mattered any longer what she did. Ay, and she had taken to lying as well. + First, music-hall tricks with her eyes, then on till it got to lying. A + white lie today, tomorrow a blacker one, each leading to another. And what + of it? Life could afford to waste her, to throw her away. + </p> + <p> + We put in three days' work at the trench; only a few feet left now. There + might be three degrees of frost now at nights, but it did not stop us; we + went steadily on. Grindhusen had come back, and was set to tunnelling + under the kitchen where the pipes were to go; but the stable and cowshed + was more important, and I did the underground work for these myself. Nils + and Lars ran the last bit of trech up meanwhile, the last bit of way to + the reservoir. + </p> + <p> + Today, at last, I questioned Grindhusen about Fruen. + </p> + <p> + “So you didn't bring Fruen back with you again this last time?” + </p> + <p> + “No. She went off by train.” + </p> + <p> + “Off to her husband, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + But Grindhusen has turned cautious with me; these two days past he has + said never a word, and now he only answers vaguely: + </p> + <p> + “Ay, that would be it, no doubt. Ay, surely, yes. Why, you might reckon + that out yourself, she would. Her own husband and all....” + </p> + <p> + “I thought perhaps she might have been going up to her own people at + Kristianssand.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that might be,” says Grindhusen, thinking this a better way. “Lord, + yes, that would be it, of course Just for a visit, like. Well, well, + she'll be home again soon, for sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she tell you so?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, 'twas so I made out. And the Captain's not home himself yet, anyway. + Eh, but she's a rare openhanded one, she is. 'Here's something for food + and drink for yourself and the horses,' she says. 'And here's a little + extra,' she says again. Eh, but there's never her like!” + </p> + <p> + But to the maids, with whom he felt less fear, Grindhusen had said it + didn't look as if they'd be seeing Fruen back again at all. She had been + asking him all the way, he said, about Engineer Lassen; she must have gone + off to him after all. And, surely, she'd be well enough with him, a man + with any amount of money and grand style and all. + </p> + <p> + Then came another card for Fruen from the Captain, this time only to say + would she please send Nils to meet him at the station on Friday, and be + sure to bring his fur coat. The post card had been delayed—it was + Thursday already. And this time it was fortunate, really, that Ragnhild + happened to look at the post card and see what it said. + </p> + <p> + We stayed sitting in Nils's room, talking about the Captain—what he + would say when he got back, and what we should say, or if we ought to say + anything at all. All three of the maids were present at this council. + Fruen would have had plenty of time to get to Kristiania herself by the + day the Captain had written his card; she had not, it seemed—she had + gone somewhere else. It was more than pitiful altogether. + </p> + <p> + Said Nils: + </p> + <p> + “Didn't she leave a note or anything when she went?” + </p> + <p> + But no, there was nothing. Ragnhild, however, had done a thing on her own + responsibility which perhaps she ought not to have done—she had + taken the photos from the piano and thrown them in the stove. “Was it + wrong, now?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Ragnhild! No!” + </p> + <p> + She told us, also, that she had been through Fruen's wardrobe and sorted + out all handkerchiefs that were not hers. Oh, she had found lots of things + up in her room—a bag with Engineer Lassen's initials worked on, a + book with his full name in, some sweets in an envelope with his writing—and + she had burnt it all. + </p> + <p> + A strange girl, Ragnhild—yes! Was there ever such an instinct as + hers? It was like the devil turned monk. Ragnhild, who made such use + herself of the thick red stair-carpet and the keyholes everywhere! + </p> + <p> + It suited me and my work well enough that the Captain had not ordered the + carriage before; we had got the trench finished now all the way up, and I + could manage without Nils for laying the pipes. I should want all hands, + though, when it came to filling in again. It was rain again now, by the + way; mild weather, many degrees of warmth. + </p> + <p> + It was well for me, no doubt, these days that I had this work of mine to + occupy my thoughts as keenly as it did; it kept away many a fancy that + would surely otherwise have plagued me. Now and again I would clench my + fists as a spasm of pain came over me; and when I was all alone up at the + reservoir I could sometimes cry aloud up at the woods. But there was no + possibility of my getting away. And where should I go if I did? + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + The Captain arrived. + </p> + <p> + He went all through the house at once—into the parlour, out into the + kitchen, then to the rooms upstairs—in his fur coat and overboots. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Fruen?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Fruen went to meet Captain,” answered Ragnhild. “We thought she'd be + coming back now as well.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain's head bowed forward a little. Then cautiously he began + questioning. + </p> + <p> + “You mean she drove with Nils to the station? Stupid of me not to have + looked about while I was there!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Ragnhild; “it was Sunday Fruen went.” + </p> + <p> + At this the Captain pulled himself together. “Sunday?” he said. “Then she + must have been going to meet me in Kristiania. H'm! We've managed to miss + each other somehow. I had to make another little journey yesterday, out to + Drammen—no, Frederikstad, I mean. Get me something to eat, will + you?” + </p> + <p> + <i>“Værsaagod,</i> it's already laid.” + </p> + <p> + “It was the day before yesterday, by the way, I went out there. Well, + well, she'll have had a little outing, anyhow. And how's everything going + on? Are the men at work on the trench?” + </p> + <p> + “They've finished it, I think.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain went in, and Ragnhild came running at once to tell us what he + had said, that we might know what to go by now, and not make things worse. + </p> + <p> + Later in the day he came out to where we were at work, greeted us + cheerily, in military fashion, and was surprised to find the pipes already + laid; we had begun filling in now. + </p> + <p> + “Splendid!” he said. “You fellows are quicker at your work than I am.” + </p> + <p> + He went off by himself up to the reservoir. When he came back his eyes + were not so keen; he looked a little weary. Maybe he had been sitting + there alone and thinking of many things. He stood watching us now with one + hand to his chin. After a little he said to Nils: + </p> + <p> + “I've sold the timber now.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain's got a good price for it, maybe?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a good price. But I've been all this time about it. You've been + quicker here.” + </p> + <p> + “There are more of us here,” I said. “Four of us some times.” + </p> + <p> + And at that he tried to jest. “Yes,” he said; “I know you're an expensive + man to have about the place!” + </p> + <p> + But there was no jest in his face; his smile was hardly a smile at all. + The weakness had gripped him now in earnest. After a little, he sat down + on a stone we had just got out, all over fresh clay as it was, and watched + us. + </p> + <p> + I took up my spade and went up, thinking of his clothes. + </p> + <p> + “Hadn't I better scrape the stone a bit clean?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it doesn't matter,” he said. + </p> + <p> + But he got up all the same, and let me clean it a little. + </p> + <p> + It was then that Ragnhild came running up to us, following the line of the + trench. She had something in her hand—a paper. And she was running, + running. The Captain sat watching her. + </p> + <p> + “It's only a telegram!” she said breathlessly. “It came on by messenger.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain got up and strode quickly a few paces forward toward this + telegram that had come. Then he tore it open and read. + </p> + <p> + We could see at once it must be something important. The Captain gave a + great gasp. Then he began walking down, running down, towards the house. A + little way off he turned round and called to Nils: + </p> + <p> + “The carriage at once! I must go to the station!” + </p> + <p> + Then he ran on again. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + So the Captain went away again. He had only been home a few hours. + </p> + <p> + Ragnhild told us of his terrible haste and worry, poor man; he was getting + into the carriage without his fur coat, and would have left the food + behind him that was packed all ready. And the telegram that had come was + lying all open on the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Accident,” it said. “Your wife.—Chief of Police.” What was all + this? + </p> + <p> + “I thought as much,” said Ragnhild, “when they sent it on by messenger.” + Her voice was strange, and she turned away. “Something serious, I dare + say,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” said I, reading and reading again. “Look, it's not so very bad! + Hear what it says. 'Request you come at once—accident to your + wife.'” + </p> + <p> + It was an express telegram from the little town, the little dead town. + Yes, that was it—a town with a roar of sound through it, and a long + bridge, and foaming waters; all cries there died as they were uttered—none + could hear. And there were no birds. + </p> + <p> + But all the maids spoke now in changed voices; 'twas nothing but misery + amongst us now; I had to appear steady and confident myself, to reassure + them. Fruen might have had a fall, perhaps, she was not as active of late. + But she could, perhaps, have got up again and walked on almost as well as + ever—just a little bleeding.... Oh, they were so quick with their + telegrams, these police folk! + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” said Ragnhild. “You know well enough that when the Chief of + Police sends a telegram it's pretty sure to mean Fruen's been found dead + somewhere! Oh, I can't—I can't—can't bear it!” + </p> + <p> + Miserable days! I worked away, harder than ever, but as a man in his + sleep, without interest or pleasure. Would the Captain never come? + </p> + <p> + Three days later he came—quietly and alone. The body had been sent + to Kristianssand; he had only come back to fetch some clothes, then he was + going on there himself, to the funeral. + </p> + <p> + He was home this time for an hour at most, then off again to catch the + early train. I did not even see him myself, being out at work. + </p> + <p> + Ragnhild asked if he had seen Fruen alive. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her and frowned. + </p> + <p> + But the girl would not give up; she begged him, for Heaven's sake, to say. + And the two other maids stood just behind, as desperate as she. + </p> + <p> + Then the Captain answered, but in a low voice as if to himself: + </p> + <p> + “She had been dead some days when I got there. It was an accident; she had + tried to cross the river and the ice would not bear. No, no, there was no + ice, but the stones were slippery. There was ice as well, though.” + </p> + <p> + Then the maids began moaning and crying; but this was more than he could + stand. He got up from the chair where he was sitting, cleared his throat + hard, and said: + </p> + <p> + “There, there, it's all right, girls, go along now. Ragnhild, a minute.” + And then to Ragnhild, when the others had gone: “What was I going to say, + now? You haven't moved some photos, have you, that were on the piano here? + I can't make out what's happened to them.” + </p> + <p> + Then Ragnhild spoke up well and with spirit—and may Heaven bless her + for the lie! + </p> + <p> + “I? No, indeed, 'twas Fruen herself one day.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh? Well, well. I only wondered how it was they had gone.” + </p> + <p> + Relieved—relieved the Captain was to hear it. + </p> + <p> + As he was leaving he told Ragnhild to say I was not to go away from Øvrebø + till he returned. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0053" id="link2H_4_0053"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV + </h2> + <p> + No, I didn't go away. + </p> + <p> + I worked on, tramped through the weariest days of my life to their end, + and finished laying the pipes. It was a bit of a change for us all on the + place the first time we could draw water from a tap, and we were none the + worse for something new to talk about for a while. + </p> + <p> + Lars Falkenberg had left us. He and I had got rid of all disagreement + between us at the last, and were as we had been in the old days when we + were mates and tramped the roads together. + </p> + <p> + He was better off than many another, was Lars; light of heart and empty of + head; and thereto unconscionably sound and strong. True, there would be no + more singing up at the house for him now or ever after, but he seemed to + have grown a trifle doubtful of his voice himself the last few years, and + contented himself now for the most part with the things he had sung—once + upon a time—at dances and gentlefolk's parties. No, Lars Falkenberg + was none so badly off. He'd his own little holding, with keep for two cows + and a pig; and a wife and children he had as well. + </p> + <p> + But what were Grindhusen and I to turn our hands to now? I could go off + wandering anywhere, but Grindhusen, good soul, was no wanderer. All he + could do was to stay on at one place and work till he was dismissed. And + when the stern decision came, he was so upset that he could not take it + easily, but felt he was being specially hardly used. Then after a while he + grew confident again, and full of a childlike trust—not in himself, + but in Fate, in Providence—sat down resignedly, and said: “Ay, well, + 'twill be all right, let's hope, with God's help.” + </p> + <p> + But he was happy enough. He settled down with marvellous ease at whatever + place he came to, and could stay there till he died if it rested with + himself. Home he need not go; the children were grown up now, and his wife + never troubled him. No, this red-haired old sinner of former days—all + he needed now was a place, and work. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going after this?” he asked me. + </p> + <p> + “A long way, up in the hills, to Trovatn, to a forest.” + </p> + <p> + He did not believe me in the least, but he answered quickly and evasively: + </p> + <p> + “Ay, I dare say, yes.” + </p> + <p> + After we had finished the pipes, Nils sent Grindhusen and myself up + cutting wood till the Captain returned. We cut up and stacked the top-ends + the woodmen had left; neat and steady work it was. + </p> + <p> + “We'll be turned off, both of us,” said Grindhusen. “When Captain comes, + eh?” + </p> + <p> + “You might get work here for the winter,” I said. “A thousand dozen + battens means a lot of small stuff left over that you could saw up for a + reasonable wage.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, talk to the Captain about it,” he said. + </p> + <p> + And the hope of regular work for the winter made this man a contented + soul. He could manage well enough. No, Grindhusen had nothing much to + trouble about. + </p> + <p> + But then there was myself. And I felt but little worth or use to myself + now, Heaven help me! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + That Sunday I wandered restlessly about. I was waiting for the Captain; he + was to be back today. To make sure of things as far as I could, I went for + a long walk up along the stream that fed our reservoir. I wanted to have + another look at the two little waters up the hillside—“the sources + of the Nile.” + </p> + <p> + Coming down on the way back, I met Lars Falkenberg; he was going home. The + full moon was just coming up, red and huge, and turned things light all + round. A touch of snow and frost there was, too; it was easy breathing. + Lars was in a friendly mood: he had been drinking <i>Brændevin</i> + somewhere, and talked a great deal. But I was not altogether pleased at + meeting him. + </p> + <p> + I had stood there long up on the wooded hillside, listening to the + soughing of earth and sky, and there was nothing else to hear. Then there + might come a faint little rustling, a curled and shrunken leaf rolling and + rustling down over the frozen branches. It was like the sound of a little + spring. Then the soughing of earth and sky again. A gentleness came over + me; a mute was set on all my strings. + </p> + <p> + Lars Falkenberg wanted to know where I had been and where I was going. + Reservoir? A senseless business that reservoir thing. As if people + couldn't carry water for themselves. The Captain went in too much for + these new-fangled inventions and ploughing over standing crops and + such-like; he'd find himself landed one day. A rich harvest, they said. + Ho, yes, but they never troubled to think what it must cost, with machines + for this and that, and a pack of men to every machine again. What mustn't + it have cost, now, for Grindhusen and me that summer! And then himself + this autumn. In the old days it had been music and plenty at Øvrebø, and + some of us had been asked into the parlour to sing. “I'll say no more,” + said Lars. “And now there's hardly a sizeable stick of timber left in the + woods.” + </p> + <p> + “A few years' time and it'll be as thick as ever.” + </p> + <p> + “A few years! A many years, you mean. No, it's not enough to go about + being Captain and commanding—brrrr! and there it is! And he's not + even spokesman for the neighbours now, and you never see folk coming up + now to ask him what he'd say was best to do in this or that....” + </p> + <p> + “Did you see the Captain down below? Had he come back yet?” I broke in. + </p> + <p> + “He's just come back. Looked like a skeleton, he did. What was I going to + say?... When are you leaving?” + </p> + <p> + “Tomorrow,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “So soon?” Lars was all friendliness, and wishing me good luck now; he had + not thought I should be going off at once. + </p> + <p> + “It's all a chance if I see you again this time,” he said. “But I'll tell + you this much, now: you'd do well to stop frittering your life away any + more, and never staying on a place for good. And I say as much here and + now, so mark my words. I dare say I haven't got on so grandly myself, but + I don't know many of our likes have done better, and anyway not you. I've + a roof over my head at the least, and a wife and children, and two cows—one + bears autumn and one spring—and then a pig, and that's all I can say + I own. So better not boast about that. But if you reckon it up, it amounts + to a bit of a holding after all.” + </p> + <p> + “It's all very well for you, the way you've got on,” said I. + </p> + <p> + Lars is friendlier than ever after this appreciation; he wishes me no end + of good, and goes on: + </p> + <p> + “There's none could get on better than yourself, for that matter. With the + knack you've got for all kinds of work, and writing and figuring into the + bargain. But it's your own fault. You might have done as I told you these + six, seven years ago, and taken one of the other girls on the place, like + I did with Emma, and settled down here for good. Then you wouldn't be + going about now from place to place. But I say the same again now.” + </p> + <p> + “It's too late,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, you're terribly grey. I don't know who you could reckon to get now + about here. How old are you now?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't ask me!” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly a young one, perhaps, but still—What was I going to + say? Come up with me a little, and maybe I'll remember.” + </p> + <p> + I walked up, and Lars went on talking all the way. He offered to put in a + word for me with the Captain, so I could get a clearing like he had. + </p> + <p> + “Funny to go and forget a thing like that,” he said. “It's gone clean out + of my head. But come up home now. I'll be sure to hit on it again.” + </p> + <p> + All friendliness he was now. But I had one or two things to do myself, and + would not go farther. + </p> + <p> + “You won't see the Captain tonight, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + No, but it was late. Emma would be in bed, and would only be a trouble. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of it,” said Lars. “And if she has gone to bed, what of it? I + shouldn't wonder, now, if there was a shirt of yours up there, too. Better + come up and take it with you, and save Emma going all the way down + herself.” + </p> + <p> + But I would not go up. I ventured, however, to send a greeting to Emma + this time. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, surely,” said Lars. “And if so be as you haven't time to come up to + my bit of a place now, why, there it is. You'll be going off first thing + tomorrow, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + It slipped my mind for the moment that I should not be able to see the + Captain that evening, and I answered now that I should be leaving as early + as could be. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I'll send Emma down with that shirt of yours at once,” said + Lars. “And good luck to you. And don't forget what I said.” + </p> + <p> + And that was farewell to Lars. + </p> + <p> + A little farther down I slackened my pace. After all, there was no real + hurry about the few things I had to pack and finish off. I turned back and + walked up again a little, whistling in the moonlight. It was a fine + evening, not cold at all, only a soft, obedient calm all over the woods. + Half an hour passed, and then to my surprise came Emma, bringing my shirt. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Next morning neither Grindhusen nor I went to the woods. Grindhusen was + uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “Did you speak to the Captain about me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't spoken to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know he'll turn me off now, you see! If he had any sense, he'd let + me stay on to cut up all that cord-wood. But what's he know about things? + It's as much as he can manage to keep a man at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what's this, Grindhusen? You seemed to like the Captain well enough + before.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, you know! Yes, of course. He's good enough, I dare say. H'm! I + wonder, now, if the Inspector down on the river mightn't have some little + scrap of a job in my line. He's a man with plenty of money, is the + Inspector.” + </p> + <p> + I saw the Captain at eight o'clock, and talked with him a while; then a + couple of neighbours came to call—offering sympathy in his + bereavement, no doubt. The Captain looked fatigued, but he was not a + broken man by any means; his manner was firm and steady enough. He spoke + to me a little about a plan he had in mind for a big drying-house for hay + and corn. + </p> + <p> + No more of things awry now, Øvrebø, no more emotion, no soul gone off the + rails. I thought of it almost with sadness. No one to stick up impertinent + photographs on the piano, but no one to play on that piano, either; dumb + now, it stands, since the last note sounded. No, for Fru Falkenberg is not + here now; she can do no more hurt to herself or any other. Nothing of all + that used to be here now. Remains, then, to be seen if all will be flowers + and joy at Øvrebø hereafter. + </p> + <p> + “If only he doesn't take to drinking again,” I said to Nils. + </p> + <p> + “No, surely,” he said. “And I don't believe he ever did. It was just a bit + of foolery, if you ask me, his going on like that just for the time. But + talking of something else—will you be coming back here in the + spring?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” I answered. “I shall not come again now.” + </p> + <p> + Then Nils and I took leave of each other. Well I remember that man's calm + and fairness of mind; I stood looking after him as he walked away across + the yard. Then he turned round and said: + </p> + <p> + “Were you up in the woods yesterday? Is there snow enough for me to take a + sledge up for wood?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + And he went off, relieved, to the stables, to harness up. + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen, too, comes along, on the way to the stable. He stops for a + moment to tell me that the Captain has himself offered him work cutting + wood. “'Saw up all the small stuff you can,' he said; 'keep at it for a + while. I dare say we can agree all right about wages.' 'Honoured and thank + you, Captain,' says I. 'Right! Go and tell Nils,' he says. Oh, but he's a + grand open-handed sort, is the Captain! There's not many of his like + about.” + </p> + <p> + A little while after, I was sent for up to the Captain's room. He thanked + me for the work I had done both indoors, and out, and went on to settle + up. And that was all, really. But he kept me there a little, asking one or + two things about the drying-shed, and we talked over that for a bit. + Anyhow it would have to wait till after Christmas, he said. But when the + time came, he'd be glad to see me back. He looked me in the face then, and + went on: + </p> + <p> + “But you won't come back here again now, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + I was taken by surprise. But I faced him squarely in return, and answered: + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + As I went down, I thought over what he had said. Had he seen through me, + then? If so, he had shown a degree of trust in me that I was glad to think + of. At least, he was a man of good feeling. + </p> + <p> + Trust me? And why should he not? Played out and done with as I was. + Suffered to go about and do and be as I pleased, by virtue of my eminent + incapacity for harm. Yes, that was it. And, anyhow, there was nothing to + see through after all. + </p> + <p> + I went round, upstairs and down, saying good-bye to them all, to Ragnhild + and the maids. Then, as I was coming in front of the house with my pack on + my shoulder, the Captain called to me from the steps: + </p> + <p> + “Wait! I just thought—if you're going to the station, the lad could + drive you in.” + </p> + <p> + Thoughtful and considerate again! But I thanked him and declined. I was + not so played out but that I could surely walk that way. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Back in my little town again. And if I have come here now, it is because + the place lies on my way to Trovatn, up in the hills. + </p> + <p> + All is as it was before here now, save for thin ice on the river above and + below the rapids, and snow on the ice again. + </p> + <p> + I take care to buy clothes and equipment here in the town, and, having got + a good new pair of shoes, I take my old ones to the cobbler to be + half-soled. The cobbler is inclined to talk, and begs me to sit down. “And + where's this man from, now?” he asks. In a moment I am enveloped by the + spirit of the town. + </p> + <p> + I walk up to the churchyard. Here, too, care has been taken to provide + equipment for the winter. Bundles of straw have been fastened round plants + and bushes; many a delicate monument is protected by a tall wooden hood. + And the hoods again armoured with a coat of paint. As if some provident + soul had thought: Well, now, I have this funeral monument here; with + proper care it may be made to last for generations! + </p> + <p> + There is a Christmas Fair on, too, and I stroll along to see. Here are + skis and toboggans, butter scoops and log chairs from the underworld, + rose-coloured mittens, clothes' rollers, foxes' skins. And here are + horse-dealers and drovers mingling with drunken folk from up the valley. + Jews there are, too, anxious to palm off a gaudy watch or so, for all + there is no money in the town. And the watches come from that country up + in the Alps, where Bocklin—did not come from; where nothing and + nobody ever came from. + </p> + <p> + But in the evening there is brave entertainment for all. Two dancing-halls + there are, and the music is supplied by masters on the <i>hardingfele,</i> + and wonderful music it is, to be sure. There are iron strings to it, and + it utters no empty phrases, but music with a sting in its tail. It acts + differently upon different people: some find it rich in national + sweetness; some of us are rather constrained to grit our teeth and howl in + melancholy wise. Never was stinging music delivered with more effect. + </p> + <p> + The dance goes on. + </p> + <p> + In one of the intervals the schoolmaster sings touching verses about an + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “aged mother, worn with toil + And sweating as 'twere blood....” + </pre> + <p> + But some of the wild youths insist on dancing and nothing else. What's + this! Start singing, when they're standing here with the girls all ready + to dance—it's not proper! The singer stops, and meets the protest in + broadest dialect: What? Not proper? Why, it's by Vinje himself! Heated + discussion, <i>pro</i> and <i>contra,</i> arguing and shouting. Never were + verses sung with more effect. + </p> + <p> + The dance goes on. + </p> + <p> + The girls from the valley are armoured five layers thick, but who cares + for that! All are used to hard work. And the dance goes on—ay, the + thunder goes on. <i>Brændevin</i> helps things bravely along. The witches' + cauldron is fairly steaming now. At three in the morning the local police + force appears, and knocks on the floor with his stick. <i>Finis.</i> The + dancers go off in the moonlight, and spread out near and far. And nine + months later, the girls from the valley show proof that after all they + were one layer of armour short. Never was such an effect of being one + layer short. + </p> + <p> + The river is quieter now—not much of a river to look at: the winter + is come upon it now. It drives the mills and works that stand on its + banks, for, in spite of all, it is and will be a great river still, but it + shows no life. It has shut down the lid on itself. + </p> + <p> + And the rapids have suffered, too. And I who stood watching them once and + listening, and thought to myself if one lived down there in the roar of it + for ever, what would one's brain be like at last? But now the rapids are + dwindled, and murmur faintly. It would be shame to call it a roar. <i>Herregud!</i> + 'tis no more than a ruin of what it was. Sunk into poverty, great rocks + thrust up all down the channel, with here and there a stick of timber hung + up thwart and slantwise; one could cross dry-shod by way of stick and + stone. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + I have done all I have to do in the town, and my pack is on my shoulders. + It is Sunday, and a fine clear day. + </p> + <p> + I look in at the hotel, to see the porter; he is going with me a bit of + the way up the river. The great good-hearted fellow offers to carry my + things—as if I could not carry them myself. + </p> + <p> + We go up along the right bank; but the road itself lies on the left; the + way we are taking is only a summer path, trodden only by the lumbermen, + and with some few fresh tracks in the snow. My companion cannot make out + why we do not follow the road: he was always dull of wit; but I have been + up this path twice before these last few days, and I am going up it once + again. It is my own tracks we can see all the time. + </p> + <p> + I question him: + </p> + <p> + “That lady you told me about once—the one that was drowned—was + it somewhere about here?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Oh, the one that fell in! Yes. Ay, it was close by here. Dreadful it + was. There must have been twenty of us here, with the police, searching + about.” + </p> + <p> + “Dragging the channel?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. We got out planks and ladders, but they broke through under us; we + cut up all the ice in the end. Here”—he stopped suddenly—“you + can see the way we went.” + </p> + <p> + I can see in the dark space where the boats had moved out and broken + through the ice to drag the depth; it was frozen over again now. + </p> + <p> + The porter goes on: + </p> + <p> + “We found her at last. And a mercy it was, I dare say. The river was low + as it was. Gone right down at once, she had, and got stuck fast between + two stones. There was no current to speak of; if it had been spring, now, + she'd have travelled a long way down.” + </p> + <p> + “Trying to cross to the other side, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay. They're always getting out on the ice as soon as it comes; a nasty + way it is. Somebody had been over already, but that was two days before. + She just came walking down on this side where we are, and the engineer, he + was coming down the road on the other side—he'd been out on his + bicycle somewhere. Then they caught sight of each other and waved or made + a sign or something, for they were cousins or something, both of them. + Then the lady must have mistaken him somehow, the engineer says, and + thought he was beckoning, for she started to come across. He shouted at + her not to, but she didn't hear, and he'd got his bicycle and couldn't + move, but, anyhow, some one had got across before. The engineer told the + police all about how it happened, and it was written down, every word. + Well, and then when she's half-way across, she goes down. A rotten piece + of ice it must have been where she trod. And the engineer, he comes down + like lightning on his bicycle through the town and up to the hotel and + starts ringing. I never heard the like, the way he rang. 'There's someone + in the river!' he cries out. 'My cousin's fallen in!' Out we went, and he + came along with us. We'd ropes and boat-hooks, but that was no use. The + police came soon after, and the fire brigade; they got hold of a boat up + there and carried it between them till they got to us; then they got it + out and started searching about with the drag. We didn't find her the + first day, but the day after. Ay, a nasty business, that it was.” + </p> + <p> + “And her husband came, you said. The Captain?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the Captain, he came. And you can reckon for yourself the state he + was in. And we were all the same for that matter, all the town was. The + engineer, he was out of his senses for a long while, so they told us at + the hotel, and when the Captain arrived, the engineer went off inspecting + up the river, just because he couldn't bear to talk any more about it.” + </p> + <p> + “So the Captain didn't see him, then?” + </p> + <p> + “No. H'm! Nay, I don't know,” said the porter, looking around. “No, I + don't know anything about that—no.” + </p> + <p> + His answer was so confused, it was evident that he did know. But it was of + no importance, and I did not question him again. + </p> + <p> + “Well, thanks for coming up with me,” I said, and shared a little money + with him for a winter wrap or something of the sort. And I took leave of + him, and wanted him to turn back. + </p> + <p> + He seemed anxious, however, to go on with me a little farther. And, to get + me to agree, he suddenly confesses that the Captain had seen the engineer + while he was here—yes. The porter, good foolish creature, had + understood enough of the maids' gossip in the kitchen to make out that + there was something wrong about the engineer and this cousin of his who + had come to stay; more than this, however, he had not seen. But, as + regards the meeting between the two men, it was he himself who had acted + as guide to the Captain on his way up to find the engineer. + </p> + <p> + “He said he must find him, and so we went up together. And the Captain, he + asked me on the way, what could there be to inspect up the river now it + was frozen over? And I couldn't see myself, I told him. And so we walked + up all day to about three or four in the afternoon. 'We might see if he's + not in the hut here,' I said, for I'd heard the lumbermen used the place. + Then the Captain wouldn't let me go on with him any farther, but told me + to wait. And he walked up to the hut by himself, and went in. He'd not + been in the place more than a bare couple of minutes, when out he comes, + and the engineer with him. There was a word or so between them—I + didn't hear; then all of a sudden the Captain flings up one arm like that, + and lands out at the engineer, and down he goes. Lord! but he must have + felt it pretty badly. And not content with that, he picks him up and lands + out at him again as hard as before. Then he came back to me and said we'd + be going home.” + </p> + <p> + I grew thoughtful at this. It seemed strange that this porter, a creature + who bore no grudge or ill-will to any one, should leave the engineer up + there at the hut without aid. And he had shown no disapproval in his + telling of the thrashing. The engineer must have been miserly with him, + too, I thought, and never paid him for his services, but only ordered him + about and laughed at him, puppy that he was. That would be it, no doubt. + And this time, perhaps, I was not misled by jealous feelings of my own. + </p> + <p> + “But the Captain—he was free with his money, if you like,” said the + porter at last. “I paid off all my owings with what he gave me—ay, + indeed I did.” + </p> + <p> + When at last I had got rid of the man, I crossed the river; the ice was + firm enough. I was on the main road now. And I walked on, thinking over + the porter's story. That scene at the hut—what did it amount to, + after all? It merely showed that one of the two men was big and strong, + the other a little, would-be sportsman heavily built behind. But the + Captain was an officer—it was something of that sort, perhaps, he + had been thinking. Perhaps he ought to have thought a little more in other + ways while there was yet time—who can say? It was his wife! who had + been drowned. The Captain might do what he pleased now; she would never + come again. + </p> + <p> + But if she did, what then? She was born to her fate, no doubt. Husband and + wife had tried to patch up the damage, but had failed. I remember her as + she was six or seven years back. She found life dull, and fell in love a + trifle here and there perhaps, even then, but she was faithful and + delicate-minded. And time went on. She had no occupation, but had three + maid-servants to her house; she had no children, but she had a piano. But + she had no children. + </p> + <p> + And Life can afford to waste. + </p> + <p> + Mother and child it was that went down. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_EPIL" id="link2H_EPIL"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EPILOGUE + </h2> + <p> + A wanderer plays with muted strings when he comes to fifty years. Then he + plays with muted strings. + </p> + <p> + Or I might put it in this way. + </p> + <p> + If he comes too late for the harvest of berries in autumn, why, he is come + too late, that is all; and if one fine day he finds he can no longer be + gay and laugh all over his face in delight of life, 'tis because he is + old, no doubt; blame him not for that! And there can be no doubt that it + requires a certain vacuity of mind to go about feeling permanently + contented with oneself and all else. But we have all our softer moments. A + prisoner is being driven to the scaffold in a cart. A nail in the seat + irks him; he shifts aside a little, and feels more at ease. + </p> + <p> + A Captain should not pray that God may forgive him—as he forgives + his God. It is simply theatrical. A wanderer who cannot reckon every day + on food and drink, clothes and boots, and house and home, feels just the + right degree of privation when all these luxuries are lacking. If you + cannot manage one way, why, there will be another. But if the other way + should also fail, then one does not forgive one's God, but takes up the + responsibility oneself. Shoulder against what comes—that is, bow to + it. A trifle hard for flesh and blood, and it greys a man's hair sadly. + But a wanderer thanks God for life; it was good to live! + </p> + <p> + I might put it that way. + </p> + <p> + For why these high demands on life? What have we earned? All the boxes of + sweetmeats a sweet-tooth could wish for? Well and good. But have we not + had the world to look upon each day, and the soughing of the woods to + hear? There is nothing so grand in all the world as that voice of the + woods. + </p> + <p> + There was a scent of jasmine in a shrubbery, and one I know thrilled with + joy, not for the jasmine's scent but for all there was—for the light + in a window, a memory, the whole of life. He was called away from the + jasmines after, but he had been paid beforehand for that little mishap. + </p> + <p> + And so it is; the mere grace that we are given life at all is generous + payment in advance for all the miseries of life—for every one of + them. + </p> + <p> + No, do not think we have the right to more sweetmeats than we get. A + wanderer's advice: no superstition. What is life's? All. But what is + yours? Is fame? Oh, tell us why! A man should not so insist on what is + “his.” It is comical; a wanderer laughs at any one who can be so comical. + I remember one who could not give up that “his.” He started to lay a fire + in his stove at noon, and by evening he got it to burn at last. He + couldn't leave the comfortable warmth to go to bed, but sat there till + other people got up, lest it should be wasted. A Norwegian writer of stage + plays, it was. + </p> + <p> + I have wandered about a good deal in my time, and am grown foolish now, + and out of bloom. But I do not hold the perverse belief of old men + generally, that I am wiser than I was. And I hope I may never grow wise; + 'tis a sign of decrepitude. If I thank God for life, it is not by virtue + of any riper wisdom that has come to me with age, but because I have + always taken a pleasure in life. Age gives no riper wisdom; age gives + nothing but age. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + I was too late for the berries this year, but I am going up that way all + the same. I am allowing myself this little treat, by way of reward for + having worked well this summer. And I reach my goal on the 12th of + December. + </p> + <p> + It is true, no doubt, that I might have stayed down among the villages. I + could have managed somehow, no doubt, as did all the others who had found + it time to settle down. And Lars Falkenberg, my colleague and mate, he had + urged me to take up a holding with keep for a wife and two cows and a pig. + A friend's advice; <i>vox populi.</i> And then, why, one of the cows might + be an ox to ride, a means of transport for my shivering age! But it came + to naught—it came to naught! My wisdom has not come with age; here + am I going up to Trovatn and the waste lands to live in a wooden hut! + </p> + <p> + What pleasure can there be in that? <i>Ai</i>, Lars Falkenberg, and <i>ai,</i> + every one else, have no fear; I have a man to come up with things I need. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + So I drift about and about by myself, looking after myself, living alone. + I miss that seal of Bishop Pavel's. One of his descendants gave it to me, + and I had it in my waistcoat pocket this summer, but, looking for it now, + I find I have lost it. Well, well; but, anyhow, I have been paid in + advance for that mishap, in having owned it once. + </p> + <p> + But I do not feel the want of books to read. + </p> + <p> + The 12th of December—I can keep a date in mind and carelessly forget + things more important. It is only just now I remember about the books—that + Captain Falkenberg and his wife had many books in their house—novels + and plays—a whole bookcase full. I saw it one day when I was + painting windows and doors at Øvrebø. Entire sets of authors they had, and + authors' complete works—thirty books. Why the complete works? I do + not know. Books—one, two, three, ten, thirty. They had come out each + Christmas—novels, thirty volumes—the same novel. They read + them, no doubt, the Captain and his wife; knew every time what they should + find in the poets of the home; there was always such a lot about all + coming right in the end. So they read them, no doubt. How should I know? + Heavens, what a host of books! Two men could not shift the bookcase when I + wanted to paint behind; it took three men and a cook to move it. One of + the men was Grindhusen; he flushed under the weight of those poets of the + home, and said: “I can't see what folk want with such a mighty crowd of + books!” + </p> + <p> + Grindhusen! As if he knew anything about it! The Captain and his wife had + all those books, no doubt, that none should be lacking; there they were + all complete. It would make a gap to take away a single one; they were + paired each with the rest, uniform poetry, the same story throughout. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + An elk-hunter has been up here with me in the hut. Nothing much; and his + dog was an ill-tempered brute. I was glad when he went on again. He took + down my copper saucepan from the wall, and used it for his cooking, and + left it black with soot. + </p> + <p> + It is not my copper saucepan, but was here in the hut, left by some one + who was here before. I only rubbed it with ashes and hung it up on the + wall as a weather-guide for myself. I am rubbing it up again now, for it + is a good thing to have; it turns dim unfailingly when there is rain or + snow coming on. + </p> + <p> + If Ragnhild had been here, now, she would have polished up that saucepan + herself. But then, again, I tell myself, I would rather see to my own + weather-guides; Ragnhild can find something else to do. And if this place + up in the woods were our clearing, then she would have the children, and + the cows, and the pig. But <i>my</i> copper things I prefer to do myself, + Ragnhild. + </p> + <p> + I remember a lady, the mistress of a house: she did no work at all, and + saw to nothing, least of all to herself. And ill she fared in the end. But + six or seven years back I had never believed any one could be so delicate + and lovely to another as she. I drove her once, upon a journey, and she + was shy with me, although she was a lady, and above me. She blushed and + looked down. And the strange thing was that she made me feel a kind of + shyness myself, although I was only her servant. Only by looking at me + with her two eyes when she spoke to me, she showed me treasures and beauty + beyond what I knew before; I remember it still. Ay, here I sit, + remembering it yet, and I shake my head and say to myself how strange it + was—how strange! And then she died. And what more? Nothing more. I + am still here, but she is gone. But I should not grieve at her death. I + had been paid beforehand, surely, for that loss, in that she looked at me + with her two eyes—a thing beyond my deserts. Ay, so it must be. + </p> + <p> + Woman—what do the sages know of woman? + </p> + <p> + I know a sage, and he wrote of woman. Wrote of woman in thirty volumes of + uniform theatre-poetry: I counted the volumes once in a big bookcase. And + at last he wrote of the woman who left her own children to go in search of—the + wonderful! But what, then, were the children? Oh, it was comical: a + wanderer laughs at anything so comical. + </p> + <p> + What does the sage know of woman? + </p> + <p> + To begin with, he was not a sage at all till he grew old, and all he knew + of woman then was from memory. But then, again, he can have no memory of + her, seeing he never knew her. The man who has an aptitude for wisdom + busies himself jealously with his little aptitude and nothing else; + cultivates and cherishes it; holds it forth and lives for it. + </p> + <p> + We do not turn to woman for wisdom. The four wisest heads in the world, + who have delivered their findings on the subject of woman, simply sat and + invented her out of their own heads—octogenarians young or old they + were, that rode on oxen. They knew nothing of woman in holiness, woman in + sweetness, woman as an indispensable, but they wrote and wrote about her. + Think of it! Without finding her. + </p> + <p> + Heaven save me from growing wise! And I will mumble the same to my last + turn: Heaven save me from growing wise! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Just cold enough now for a little outing I have had in mind: the + snow-peaks lie rosy in the sun, and my copper saucepan points to fair. It + is eight in the morning. + </p> + <p> + Knapsack and a good stock of food, an extra lashing in my pocket in case + anything should break, and a note on the table for the man with supplies + in case he should come up while I am away. + </p> + <p> + Oh, but I have been showing off nicely all to myself: pretending I was + going far, and needed to equip myself with care, had occasion for all my + presence of mind and endurance. A man can show off like that when he is + going far; but I am not. I have no errand anywhere, and nothing calls me; + I am only a wanderer setting forth from a hut, and coming back to it + again; it does not matter where I am. + </p> + <p> + It is quiet and empty in the woods; all things deep in snow, holding their + breath as I come. At noon, looking back from a hill, I can see Trovatn far + behind; white and flat it lies, a stretch of chalk, a desert of snow. + After a meal I go on again, higher and higher, nearing the fjeld now, but + slowly and thoughtfully, with hands in my pockets. There is no hurry; I + have only to find a shelter for the night. + </p> + <p> + Later on in the afternoon I sit down again to eat, as if I needed a meal + and had earned it. But it is only for something to do; my hands are idle, + and my brain inclined to fancies. It gets dark early: well to find a + sheltered cleft in the hillside here; there are fallen firs enough lying + about for a fire. + </p> + <p> + Such are the things I tell of now, playing with muted strings. + </p> + <p> + I was out early next morning, as soon as it began to get light. A quiet, + warm snowfall came on, and there was a soughing in the air. Bad weather + coming, I thought to myself; but who could have foreseen it? Neither I nor + my weather-guide looked for it twenty-four hours ago. + </p> + <p> + I left my shelter and went on again over moor and heath; full day again + now, and snowing. It was not the best of shelters I had found for the + night: passably soft and dry, with branches of fir to lie on, and I had + not felt the cold, but the smoke from my fire drifted in over me and + troubled my breathing. + </p> + <p> + But now, this afternoon, I found a better place—a spacious and + elegant cave with walls and roof complete. Room here for me and my fire, + and the smoke went up. I nodded at this, and decided to settle down here, + though it was early yet, and still quite light; I could distinctly make + out the hills and valleys and rocks on a naked fjeld straight ahead some + few hours' march away. But I nodded, as if I had reached my goal, and set + to work gathering firewood and bedding for the night. + </p> + <p> + I felt so thoroughly at home here. It was not for nothing I nodded and + took off my knapsack. “Was this the place you were making for?” I say, + talking to myself in jest. “Yes,” I answer. + </p> + <p> + The soughing in the air grew stronger; it was not snow that was falling + now, but rain. Strange—a great wet rainfall down over the cave, over + all the trees outside, and yet it was the cold Christmas month—December. + A heat-wave had taken it into its head to visit us. + </p> + <p> + It rained and rained that night, and there was a soughing all through the + trees outside. It was like spring; it filled my sleep at last with so rich + an ease, that I slept on sound and deep till it was broad day. + </p> + <p> + Ten o'clock. + </p> + <p> + The rain had ceased, but it is still warm. I sit looking out of the cave, + and listening to the bend and whisper of the trees. Then a stone breaks + loose on the fjeld opposite; it butts against a rock and brings that down + as well; a few faint thuds are heard. Then a rumble: I see what is + happening, and the sound echoes within me; the rock loosened other rocks, + an avalanche goes thundering down the mountain-side, snow and earth and + boulders, leaving a smoky cloud in its wake. The stream of rubble seems in + a living rage; it thrusts its way on, tearing down other masses with it—crowding, + pouring, pouring, fills up a chasm in the valley—and stops. The last + few boulders settle slowly into place, and then no more. The thunder over, + there is silence, and within myself is only a breathing as of a slowly + descending bass. + </p> + <p> + And so I sit once more, listening to the soughing of the woods. Is it the + heaving of the AEgean sea, or is it the ocean current Glimma? I grow weak + from just listening. Recollections of my past life rise within me, joys by + the thousand, music and eyes, flowers. There is nothing more glorious than + the soughing of the woods. It is like swinging, rocking—a madness: + Uganda, Antananarivo, Honolulu, Atacama, Venezuela. + </p> + <p> + But it is all the years, no doubt, that make me so weak, and my nerves + that join in the sounds I hear. I get up and stand by the fire to get over + it; now I think of it, I feel I could talk to the fire a little, make a + speech to the dying fire. I am in a fire-proof house here, and the + acoustic conditions are good. H'm! + </p> + <p> + Then the cave is darkened; it is the elk-hunter again with his dog. + </p> + <p> + It begins to freeze as I trudge along homeward to my hut. The frost soon + hardens the ground, moor and heath, making it easy walking. I trudge along + slowly and carelessly, hands in my pockets. There is no hurry now; it + matters little where I am. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wanderers, by Knut Hamsun + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WANDERERS *** + +***** This file should be named 7762-h.htm or 7762-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/7/6/7762/ + + +Text file produced by Eric Eldred, Robert Connal and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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