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diff --git a/7762-0.txt b/7762-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a58b774 --- /dev/null +++ b/7762-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12097 @@ +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 *** + + + + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Robert Connal and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + +WANDERERS + + +By Knut Hamsun + + +Translated from the Norwegian of by W. W. Worster + + +With an Introduction by W. W. Worster + + + +CONTENTS + + +Under the Autumn Star + + +A Wanderer Plays on Muted Strings + + + + + +WANDERERS + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +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. + +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.” + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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”? + + +EDWIN BJORKMAN + + + + +UNDER THE AUTUMN STAR + + + + +I. + + +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. + +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. + +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.... + +As if I had been there before. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“And what is the price of mackerel today?” she asks. + +“The same as yesterday.” + +“Then you can keep it, for all I care.” + +And Gunhild goes back home. + +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. + +And Gunhild buys her fish. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + + + + +II + + +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. + +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: “_Fan! Fansmagt_!” [Footnote: +“The Devil! Power of the Devil!”]--and then looks round suddenly and +starts humming a tune to cover his words. + +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. + +I go up to him, and ask if he remembers me, and we talk a bit. + +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. + +Did he remember the old days at Skreia? + +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. + +Yes, he remembers Skreia well enough. + +“And Anders Fila and 'Spiralen' and Petra?” + +“Which one?” + +“Petra--the one that was your girl.” + +“Ay, I remember her. I got tied up with her at last.” Grindhusen falls +to chopping wood again. + +“Got tied up with her, did you?” + +“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.” + +“Why? Is it these clothes you're thinking of? You've Sunday clothes +yourself, now, haven't you?” + +“What d'you give for those you've got on?” + +“I can't remember, but it was nothing very much. Couldn't say exactly +what it was.” + +Grindhusen looks at me in astonishment and bursts out laughing. + +“What? Can't remember what you paid for them?” + +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.” + +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. + +“So you've turned painter now?” said I. + +Grindhusen made no answer, and I saw I had said a thing that should not +have been said in others' hearing. + + + + +III + + +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. + +“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 _Brændevin_ this you've got.” + +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. + +“If I could only manage it,” said Grindhusen, “I know what I'd do. I'd +get myself some bricklayer's tools.” + +“So you're a bricklayer, too?” + +“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....” + +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. + +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. + +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.... + +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. + +Then it is night, and we go each our separate way. + +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: _“Farvel!”_ + +Something thrilled me warmly at the word; it was like a calling from my +youth, from Skreia, from days a generation gone. + +I row across to him and ask: + +“Can you dig that well all alone?” + +“No. I'll have to take another man along.” + +“Take me,” I said. “Wait for me here, while I go up and settle at the +house.” + +Half-way up I heard Grindhusen calling again: + +“I can't wait here all night. And I don't believe you meant it, anyway.” + +“Wait just a minute. I'll be down again directly.” + +And Grindhusen sets himself down on the beach to wait. He knows I've +some of that first-rate _Brændevin_ still left. + + + + +IV + + +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. + +And so we started on our digging. + +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. + +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.... + +Grindhusen answered: surely; we'd manage that for him all right. + +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. + +Then evening came. Grindhusen went off home, leaving me behind. I slept +in the hayloft for the night. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +“Most kind of you, I'm sure, my dear young lady!” + +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. + +Well, I had done a nice thing now! + +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.... + +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. + +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. + + + + +V + + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +And that was enough; just that bit of a smile and saying I was right +made me all glad and proud again within. + +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. + +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. + +“What'll he be like when it comes to eating porridge?” I thought to +myself hysterically. + +Then when he leaned back on the bench to rest after his meal in the same +greasy state, I called to him straight out: + +“For Heaven's sake, man, aren't you going to wipe your mouth?” + +He stared at me, wiping his mouth with one hand. “Mouth?” he said. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +And there was the well, as undug as ever. Sunday came, and Grindhusen +had gone home. + +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. + +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? + +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. + + + + +VI + + +The priest listened patiently, and did not reject the idea at once. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“That's true, yes. But this other way would cost a terrible lot of +money.” + +“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. + +The priest looked surprised. + +“Is that all?” + +“Yes.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“And it will save carrying water to the bedrooms as well.” + +“The bedrooms are all upstairs. It won't help us there, I'm afraid.” + +“We can run the pipes up to the first floor.” + +“Can we, though? Up to the bedrooms? Will there be pressure enough for +that, do you think?” + +Here I waited longer than usual before answering, as a stolid fellow, +who did not undertake things lightly. + +“I think I can answer for a jet the height of the roof,” I said. + +“Really, now!” exclaimed the priest. And then again: “Come and let us +see where you think of digging the well.” + +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. + +“I must talk to the other man about it,” he said. + +But I cut out Grindhusen at once, and said: “Grindhusen? He's no idea of +this work at all.” + +The priest looked at me. + +“Really?” he said. + +Then we went down again, the priest talking as if to himself. + +“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.” + +And he went indoors. + +After ten minutes or so, I was sent for round to the front steps; the +whole family were there now. + +“So you're the man who's going to give us water laid on to the house?” + said Fruen kindly. + +I took off my cap and bowed in a heavy, stolid fashion, and the priest +answered for me: yes, this was the man. + +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. + +“You think so? Well, let's all go up to the top of the hill and look +through the thing and see.” + +We went up the hill, and I set the instrument for them and let them +look. + +“Wonderful!” said Fruen. + +But Frøkenen said never a word. + +The priest asked: + +“But are you sure there's water here?” + +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. + +“What sort of signs?” asked Fruen. + +“The nature of the ground. And you'll notice there's willow and osiers +growing about. And they like a wet soil.” + +The priest nodded, and said: + +“He knows his business, Marie, you can see.” + +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: + +“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.” + +“Splendid!” she exclaimed. + +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. + +Even as it was, I had to agree to wait till Grindhusen came back. The +priest said he wanted to sleep on it. + + + + +VII + + +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. + +As luck would have it, the priest came out on Monday morning, and said +to Grindhusen half jestingly: + +“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?” + +Grindhusen thought it was a first-rate idea. + +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.... + +“One metre thirty's plenty,” I said. + +... and that it would cost a great deal of money. + +“Your mate here said about a couple of hundred Kroner in all,” answered +the priest. + +Grindhusen had no idea of estimates at all, and could only say: + +“Well, well, two hundred Kroner's a deal of money, anyway.” + +I said: + +“It will mean so much less in _Aabot_ when you move.” + +The priest looked at me in surprise. + +“_Aabot_? But I'm not thinking of leaving the place,” he said. + +“Why, then, you'll have the full use of it. And may your reverence live +to enjoy it for many a year,” said I. + +At this the priest stared at me, and asked: + +“What is your name?” + +“Knut Pedersen.” + +“Where are you from?” + +“From Nordland.” + +But I understood why he had asked, and resolved not to talk in that +bookish way any more. + +Anyhow, the well and the pipe-line were decided on, and we set to +work.... + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +“I wish that vane up there wouldn't creak so,” Grindhusen would say at +times. + +“Are you afraid?” + +“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.” + +Happy man! + +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. + + + + +VIII + + +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 +_gaard_, and her eyes were full of sweetness and of something ripening. + +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. + +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. + +Good! + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“The well is done. We're going to start on the trench tomorrow.” + +“And how long will that take to do?” + +“About a week. Then the man can come and lay the pipes.” + +“No! really?” + +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.... + +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. + +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.... + +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. + + + + +IX + + +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. + +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. + +“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: + +“Now, how am I to get up again?” + +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. + +“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?” + +I mentioned a time, a week or thereabout. + +“And where are you going then?” + +“To the farm just by. Grindhusen's fixed it up for us to go and dig +potatoes there....” + +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. + +“Only fancy, Oline,” she said to the maid, “when it's all done, and +you'll only have to turn on a tap.” + +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? + +“Take a rest,” said I. + +“Rest, indeed! We're made to work, I take it, not to rest.” + +“And sew things against the time you get married,” said Frøken +Elisabeth, with a smile. + +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. + +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.... + +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. + +“How's the time?” Grindhusen might ask when I came back to the barn. + +“Just gone eleven,” I would say, though it might be two or three in the +morning. + +“Huh! And a nice time to be coming to bed. _Fansmagt!_ Waking folk up +when they've been sleeping decently!” + +And Grindhusen turns over on the other side, to fall asleep again in a +moment. There was no trouble with Grindhusen. + +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 _was_ a way to quiet and +peace of mind? + + + + +X + + +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. + +I said: + +“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.” + +“Don't be a fool,” said Grindhusen. + +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. + +“What are we to do now?” he asked. + +“You'll manage it all right,” said I. + +“Manage it--will I?” + +“Yes, or I am much mistaken.” + +And Grindhusen was pacified once more. + +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. + +“A man of your age ought to know better than to talk such stuff,” he +said. + +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.... + +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. + +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. + +“Good,” said I, “I'll come on after.” + +Strange girl! had she thought to put up with my company on the way? She +said: + +“But do you think you can find the way alone?” + +“Surely; I've been there before. It's where we buy our things.” + +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. + +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. + +After dinner, I went upstairs, and started sawing in the passage. + +“Come and lend me a hand here, will you?” said Fruen, walking on in +front of me. + +We passed by her husband's study and into the bedroom. + +“I want my bed moved,” said Fruen. “It's too near the stove in winter, +and I can't stand the heat.” + +We moved the bed over to the window. + +“It'll be nicer here, don't you think? Cooler,” said she. + +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: + +“Are you mad?--Oh no, dear, please ... the door....” + +Then I heard my name whispered again and again.... + +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. + +I said: + +“That picture that was hanging over your bed--wouldn't it be as well to +move that too?” + +“Ye--es, perhaps it would,” said Fruen. + + + + +XI + + +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. + +Then we went over to the neighbouring farm to dig potatoes, promising to +look in at the vicarage again some time. + +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. + +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.”] + +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. + +“And yourself?” I asked. + +Out of politeness, she made some little answer to this also, but I could +see she had no wish to stay talking to me. + +So prettily dressed she was, with a new light cloak that went so well +with her blue eyes.... + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Erik--to think it should have happened--and that, yesterday....” + +“I know about it,” she answered. + +“He was badly hurt.” + +“Yes, yes, of course, he was badly hurt--why do you talk to me about +him?” + +“I thought.... No, I don't know. But, anyhow, he'll get better. And then +it will be all right again, surely.” + +“Yes, yes....” + +Pause. + +It sounded as if she had been making fun of me. Then suddenly she said +with a smile: + +“What a strange fellow you are! What makes you walk all that way to come +and sit here of an evening?” + +“It's just a little habit I've got lately. For something to do till +bedtime.” + +“Then you're not afraid?” + +Her jesting tone gave me courage; I felt myself on surer ground, and +answered: + +“No, that's just the trouble. I wanted to learn to shiver and shake.” + +“Learn to shiver and shake? Like the boy in the fairy tale. Now where +did you read about that, I wonder?” + +“I don't know. In some book or other, I suppose.” + +Pause. + +“Why wouldn't you come and work for us when Father asked you?” + +“I'd be no good at that sort of work. I'm going out on the roads now +with another man.” + +“Which way are you going?” + +“That I cannot say. East or west. We are just wanderers.” + +Pause. + +“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....” + +“He's in a baddish way now, but still.” + +“Does the doctor think he will get better?” + +“Yes, as far as I know. I've not heard otherwise.” + +“Well--good-night.” + +Oh to be young and rich and handsome, and famous and learned in +sciences!... There she goes.... + +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!” + + + + +XII + + +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.... + +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. + +From sheer habit I would have gone into the churchyard here as well. I +said: + +“What do you think? We might find a place here for the night?” + +“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.” + +And we went on again, Falkenberg leading. + +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. + +We came to a farmstead where the dogs barked, and folk were still about. +Falkenberg asked to see the man. A lad came out. + +Had he any work for us? + +No. + +But the fence there along by the road was all to pieces, if we couldn't +mend that, now? + +No. Man himself had nothing else to do this time of the year. + +Could they give us shelter for the night? + +Very sorry, but.... + +Not in the barn? + +No, the girls were still sleeping there. + +“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. + +“Suppose we went back to the farm now to the girls in the barn? Like as +not they wouldn't turn us out.” + +Falkenberg thought for a moment. + +“The dogs will make a row,” he said. + +We came out into a field where two horses were loose. One had a bell at +its neck. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Better take it at a gallop,” said Falkenberg over his shoulder. “Come +along.” + +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. + +Fortunately, there was no great danger waiting us after all; only a +young couple out sweethearting. + +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. + +_Gakgak, gakgak_--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. +_Gakgak_, high overhead. And the splendid ploughshare glides along +beneath the stars.... + +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. + +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. + + + + +XIII + + +We tramped three days and found no work, but had to pay for our food and +drink, getting poorer every day. + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“But young Erik said you were a beggar to drink.” + +“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. + +I thought to myself: a piano on a place means well-to-do folk; that's +where he is going to start stealing. + +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. + +“Going to _what?_” + +“You be quiet,” said Falkenberg. “I've done it before, though I don't go +bragging about it everywhere.” + +He fished out a piano-tuner's key from his sack, and I saw he was in +earnest. + +I was ordered to keep near the place while he was tuning. + +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. + +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. + +“And what did she say to that?” + +“Well, she was all of a wonder, you may be sure.” + +“And what did you say?” + +“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....” + +“Is she young?” + +“Why, yes. Talk away like a little jews' harp. Young--I should think +so.” + +“And where does she live?” + +“Ah, that I won't say. They'd know it all over the village if I did.” + +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. + +And Alexander said: If I were not myself I would be you.... + +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 _“Farvel, +Frøken, Farvel.”_ + +“Six Kroner, my boy,” he whispered in my ear. “And another six at the +next place, that's twelve.” + +So off we went, and I carried our things. + + + + +XIV + + +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. + +“Which pipe?” + +“You fool! the one with the clenched fist, of course.” + +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. + +“Don't let the nail get too hot,” I whispered, “or it might curl up.” + +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. + +I found a place to sleep in the barn. + +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. + +“What's the matter now?” + +“Here's your pipe. Here you are, man, take it.” + +“Pipe?” + +“Yes, your pipe. I won't have the thing about me another minute. Look at +it--the nail's all coming loose.” + +I took the pipe, and saw the nail had begun to curl away from the wood. +Said Falkenberg: + +“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....” + +Happy Falkenberg! + +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: + +“It's made no end of difference with the piano. Thank you very much.” + +“I hope you may find it satisfactory,” said the piano-tuner grandly. + +“Yes, indeed. There's quite a different tone in it now.” + +“And is there anywhere else Frøkenen could recommend...?” + +“Ask the people at Øvrebø; Falkenberg's the name.” + +“_What_ name?” + +“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.” + +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.” + +Then we went on our way again, and I carried the things. + +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. + +Hadn't he any papers with his name on? Certificates of some sort? + +“Yes, but for _Fan_, there's nothing in them except saying I'm a +reliable workman.” + +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. + +“Think that you can write out that certificate?” he asked. + +“Yes, that I can.” + +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.... + +“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. + +Downcast and discouraged both, we tramped on till we came to the post. + +“You're not going up, are you?” I asked. + +“You can go yourself,” said Falkenberg sourly. “Here, take your rags of +things.” + +But a little way farther on he slackened his pace, and muttered: + +“It's a wicked shame to throw away a chance like that. Why, it's just +cut out for us as it is.” + +“Well, then, why don't you go up and pay them a call? Who knows, you +might be some relation after all.” + +“I wish I'd thought to ask if he'd a nephew in America.” + +“What then? Could you talk English to them if he had?” + +“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.” + +He was nervous and out of temper, and began stepping out. Then suddenly +he stopped and said: + +“I'll do it. Lend me that pipe of yours again. I won't light it.” + +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: + +“Going to be a piano-tuner this time?” + +“I think I've shown I can tune a piano,” he said shortly. “I am good for +that at any rate.” + +“But suppose there's some one in the house knows all about it--Fruen, +for instance--and tries the piano after you've done?” + +Falkenberg was silent. I could see he was growing doubtful again. Little +by little his lordly gait sank to a slouching walk. + +“Perhaps we'd better not,” he said. “Here, take your pipe. We'll just go +up and simply ask for work.” + + + + +XV + + +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. + +Was Captain Falkenberg at home? + +No. + +Or Fruen? + +Fruen came out. She was tall and fair, and friendly as a young foal; and +she answered our greeting in the kindliest way. + +Had she any work for us now? + +“Well, I don't know. I don't think so really, not while my husband's +away.” + +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: + +“What sort of work?” + +“Any kind of outdoor work,” said Falkenberg. “We can take on hedging and +ditching, bricklayer's work....” + +“Getting late in the year for that sort,” put in one of the men by the +flagstaff. + +“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.” + +“Thank you kindly,” answered Falkenberg. + +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. + +_“Mille grâces, Madame; vous êtes trop aimable_,” I said gallantly, and +took off my cap. + +Fruen turned round and stared at me in astonishment; the look on her +face was comical to see. + +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. + +“Can you tune pianos too?” she asked, in surprise. + +“Yes, indeed; I tuned the one on the farm down below.” + +“Mine's a grand piano, and a good one. I shouldn't like it....” + +“Fruen can be easy about that.” + +“Have you any sort of....” + +“I've no certificate, no. It's not my way to ask for such. But Fruen can +come and hear me.” + +“Well, perhaps--yes, come this way.” + +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. + +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. + +Some ten minutes passed; Falkenberg had begun. Fruen came out into the +kitchen again and said: + +“And to think you speak French! It's more than I do.” + +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. + +“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.” + +I would have thanked her, but could not get a word out for swallowing at +something in my throat. + +Neurasthenia! + +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. + +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.... + +Falkenberg comes across the yard to meet me, and whispers hurriedly: + +“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?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well, then, go inside, into the kitchen. She's been asking for you.” + +I went in and Fruen said: + +“I wondered where you'd got to. Sit down and have something to eat. +_Had_ your supper? Where?” + +“We've food with us in the sack.” + +“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.'....” + +Heaven--she stood there beside me, pointing to the message. And the +scent of a young girl in her breath.... + + + + +XVI + + +In the woods. Petter is one of the farm-hands; he showed us the way +here. + +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. + +Just now I began working in my mind on an invention. + +With the ordinary sort of saw now in use, the men have to lie down +crookedwise on the ground and pull _sideways_. 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. + +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. + +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. + +Either he had gained by his experience in tuning already, or Fruen was +grateful to him for not having spoiled the grand piano. + +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. + +“Let me have Emma, and you can keep the clothes,” I said in jest. + +“All right, you can take her,” he answered. + +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! + +“Wonder if she will give us a look in this evening again?” Falkenberg +would say while we were out at work. + +And I would answer that I didn't care how long the Captain stayed away. + +“No, you're right,” said Falkenberg. “And I say, if I find he isn't +decent to her, there'll be trouble.” + +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. + +And then it was I began to be envious. + +“Have you learnt singing?” asked Fruen. “Can you read music at all?” + +“Yes, indeed,” said Falkenberg. “I used to sing in a club.” + +Now that was where he should have said: no, worse luck, he'd never +learned, so I thought to myself. + +“Have you ever sung to any one? Has any one ever heard you?” + +“I've sung at dances and parties now and again. And once at a wedding.” + +“But I mean for any one that knew: has any one tried your voice?” + +“No, not that I know of--or yes, I think so, yes.” + +“Well, won't you sing some more now? Do.” + +And Falkenberg sang. + +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: + +“Beg pardon, but won't the Captain be coming home soon?” + +“Yes, soon,” answered Fruen. “Why do you ask?' + +“I was only thinking about the work.” + +“Have you felled all the trees that were marked?” + +“No, not yet--no, not by a long way. But....” + +“Oh....” said Fruen suddenly, as if she had just thought of something. +“You must have some money. Yes, of course....” + +I grasped at that to save myself, and answered: + +“Thank you very much.” + +Falkenberg said nothing. + +“Well, you've only to ask, you know. _Varsaagod_” and she handed me the +money I had asked for. “And what about you?” + +“Nothing, thank you all the same,” answered Falkenberg. + +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. + +Only, of course, I did nothing of the sort. + + + + +XVII + + +And two days went by. + +“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.” + +“You've forgotten Emma, too, haven't you?” I ask. + +“Emma? Look here, I'll tell you what it is: you're just the same as +ever, that's what you are.” + +“Ho, am I?” + +“Yes; inside, I mean. You wouldn't mind taking Emma right there, with +Fruen looking on. But I couldn't do that.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Falkenberg sang the Poppy Song. + +“You're lucky, being able to sing like that,” I said. “But there's +neither of us'll get her, for all that.” + +“Get her! Why, whoever thought.... What a fool you are!” + +“Ah, if I were young and rich and handsome, I'd win her all the same,” I +said. + +“If--and if.... So could I, for the matter of that. But there's the +Captain.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“It's Falkenberg that won't eat,” said I. + +“Ho, indeed!” said Falkenberg; “I like that. _He's_ given up eating +altogether.” + +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. + +And he sang every evening now. + +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. + +But so it was. I would try to make her jealous. + +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. + +“Emma, I know of some one that is sighing for you.” + +“And where did you get to know of that, pray?” + +“From the stars above.” + +“I'd rather hear of it from some one here on earth.” + +“I can tell you that, too. At first hand.” + +“It's himself he means,” put in Falkenberg, anxious to keep well out of +it. + +“Well, and I don't mind saying it is. _Paratum cor meum_.” + +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. + +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: + +“What's that the men were saying about a new machine you're making?” + +“It's a new kind of saw he's messing about with,” said Falkenberg. “But +it's too heavy to be any good.” + +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.... + +“I think I'll take to going over with the men in the evenings,” said +Falkenberg, “the same as you.” + +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. + + + + +XVIII + + +The Captain had returned. + +A big man, with a full beard, came out to us one day while we were at +work, and said: + +“I'm Captain Falkenberg. Well, lads, how goes it?” + +We greeted him respectfully, and answered: “Well enough.” + +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. + +“Captain's forgetting Sundays.” said I. + +“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?” + +“Quite all right.” + +“And nobody hurt?” + +“No.” + +Pause. + +“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.” + + +“We'll be glad to have it as Captain thinks best.” + +“Yes,” agreed Falkenberg as well. + +The Captain took a turn up through the wood and came back again. + +“Couldn't have better weather,” he said. “No snow to shovel away.” + +“No, there's no snow--that's true; but a little more frost'd do no +harm.” + +“Why? Cooler to work in d'you mean?” + +“That, too, perhaps; yes. But the saw cuts easier when timber's frozen.” + +“You're an old hand at this work, then?” + +“Yes.” + +“And are you the one that sings?” + +“No, more's the pity. He is the one that sings.” + +“Oh, so you are the singer, are you? We're namesakes, I believe?” + +“Why, yes, in a way,” said Falkenberg, a little awkwardly, “My name is +Lars Falkenberg, and I've my certificate to show for that.” + +“What part d'you come from?” + +“From Trøndelagen.” + +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. + +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: + +“They'll do to keep going with for a bit.” + +“Then you're not going to hang yourself, after all?” + +“You've better cause to go that way, if you ask me,” said Falkenberg. + +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.” + +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?” + +He made a note of the things on the spot. A first-rate man to work +under. + +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. + +“My husband said ... he ... said ... you can't be warm enough in these +thin clothes,” she said. “And would you ... here, take these.” + +She bundled a whole suit into my arms. + +I thanked her, stammering foolishly. I was going to get myself some new +things soon. There was no hurry; I didn't need.... + +“Of course, I know you can get things yourself. But when your friend is +so ... so ... oh, take these.” + +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. + +When the Captain came out next evening with my wheels and rollers, I +took the opportunity of thanking him for the clothes. + +“Oh--er--yes,” he answered. “It was my wife that.... Do they fit you all +right?” + +“Yes; many thanks.” + +“That's all right, then. Yes; it was my wife that ... well, here are the +things for your machine, and the tools. Good-night.” + +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.... + + + + +XIX + + +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. + +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 _can_ +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.... _Herregud!_ how many a time have I watched the finches in +their doings, and found pleasure in all. + +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. + +Falkenberg was right. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +“Let's go up and look,” said Falkenberg. + +Coming up to the house, we found a little group of lads and girls +outside taking the air. Emma was there as well. + +“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!” + +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. + +“But Emma is there. Ask her to come out.” + +“Emma's not coming out. She's here with Markus Shoemaker.” + +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? + +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. + +The dance was still going on inside, but none of the girls left us to go +in and join. + +“I'll bet you now,” said Falkenberg, with a swagger, “that Emma'd be +only too glad to be out here with us.” + +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, “_Tak for +Skjænken_,” 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. + +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. + + + + +XX + + +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. + +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. + + +Falkenberg was troubled, and said: + +“Everything is wrong, somehow. Nothing but bother and worry and +foolery.” + +“Why, as to that...” + +“That's what I call it, anyway, if you want to know. She won't come up +in the hills as we said.” + +“It'll be Markus Shoemaker, then, that's keeping her back?” + +Falkenberg was gloomily silent. Then, after a pause: + +“They wouldn't even have me go on singing.” + +We got to talking of the Captain and his wife. Falkenberg had an +ill-forboding all was not as it might be between them. + +Gossiping fool! I put in a word: + +“You'll excuse me, but you don't know what you are talking about.” + +“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.” + +The fool!--the churl! + +“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?” + +“Me? We're two of us in it, anyway, so there.” + +“Good! Then we'll say it's the thaw. Let's get back to the ax again.” + +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. + +“At any rate, they speak nicely of each other to us,” I said. + +Falkenberg went on with his work. + +I thought over the whole thing again. + +“Well, perhaps you may be right as far as that goes, that it's not the +wedded life dreamers have dreamed of, still....” + +But it was no good talking to Falkenberg in that style; he understood +never a word. + +When we stopped work at noon, I took up the talk again. + +“Didn't you say once if he wasn't decent to her there'd be trouble?” + +“Yes, I did.” + +“Well, there hasn't been trouble.” + +“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.” + +We got to work again with the ax, each thinking his own ways. + +“I doubt but I'll need to give him a thrashing,” said Falkenberg. + +“Who?” + +“Lukas....” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +That night I learned to shiver and shake. + +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. + +“What is it?” cried Falkenberg. “In Heaven's name....” + +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. + +“It's the corpse,” I groaned. “Come to ask for her thumbnail.” + Falkenberg sat straight up in bed, wide awake all at once. + +“I saw her,” he said. + +“Did you see her, too? Did you see her thumb? Ugh!” + +“I wouldn't be in your shoes now for anything.” + +“Let me lie inside, against the wall,” I begged. + +“And what about me?” + +“It won't hurt you; you can lie outside all right.” + +“And let her come and take me first? Not if I know it.” + +And at that Falkenberg lay down again and pulled the rug over his eyes. + +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. + +It was a terrible night. + +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. + +“It's a question if you oughtn't to carry it back where you took it +from,” said Falkenberg. + +“Why, that's miles away--a whole long journey....” + +“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.” + +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. + + + + +XXI + + +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. + +“Is any one at home?” she asked. + +The sound of wheels had brought faces to the windows; lamps were lit in +the rooms and passages. Fruen came out, calling: + +“Is that you, Elisabeth? I'm so glad you've come.” + +It was Frøken Elisabeth from the vicarage. + +“Is _he_ here?” she asked in surprise. + +“Who?” + +It was myself she meant. So she had recognized me.... + +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. + +“The water-pipes are doing nicely,” said Frøken Elisabeth. + +I was pleased to hear it. + +“Water-pipes?” said Fruen inquiringly. + +“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.” + +“Really, though? Could it be done here, do you think?” + +I answered: yes; it ought to be easy enough. + +“Why didn't you speak to my husband about it?” + +“I did speak of it. He said he would see what Fruen thought about it.” + +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. + +“Anyhow, it's too late to start this year; the winter would be on us +before we could get it done. But next spring....” + +Fruen seemed to come back to attention from somewhere far away. + +“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?” + +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. + +“What's that for?” + +“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: + +“Does it matter which way it falls?” + +Falkenberg had to answer her. + +“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.” + +“Did you notice,” said Fruen to her friend, “what a voice he has? He's +the one that sings.” + +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.” + +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. + +“They want me to sing to them this evening,” said Falkenberg, when they +had gone. + +Evening came. + +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. + +“And where will you be going then?” asked the Captain. + +“We were going to get work on the railway.” + +“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.” + +He took me round to the south side of the house, and pointed this way +and that, though it was already dark. + +“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.” + +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. + +The Captain started, and glanced up at the windows. + +“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?” + +“Three or four days.” + +“Good! We'll say three or four days more for that, and then finish for +this year.” + +A strangely sudden decision. I thought to myself. And aloud I said: + +“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....” + +“Yes, I know ... but ... well, I think I must go in now and listen to +this....” + +The Captain went indoors. + +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. + +Which was a coxcomb's thought, and altogether wrong. + + + + +XXII + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Well, how do you think it will work?”' + +I set it going. + +“Upon my soul, I believe it will....” + +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? + +Said the Captain presently: + +“Won't it take up too much time, fixing the apparatus to one tree after +another?” + +“Part of the time will be made up by easier work. No need to keep +stopping for breath.” + +“Why not?” + +“Because the lateral pressure's effected by the spring. It's just that +pressure that makes the hardest work.” + +“And what about the rest of the time?” + +“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.” + +I showed him a drawing of this clamp arrangement; I had not had time to +make the thing itself. + +The Captain took a turn at the saw himself, noticing carefully the +amount of force required. He said: + +“It's a question whether it won't be too heavy, pulling a saw twice the +width of an ordinary woodcutting saw.” + +“Ay,” agreed Falkenberg; “it looks that way.” + +All looked at Falkenberg, and then at me. It was my turn now. + +“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.” + +“It sounds almost impossible.” + +“Well, we shall see.” + +Frøken Elisabeth asked half in jest: + +“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?” + +“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?” + +“That's obviated in the first place by these rollers under the blade.” + +“True; that goes for something. And in the second place?” + +“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.” + +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.... + +The Captain went over to Falkenberg and said: + +“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?” + +“Surely,” said Falkenberg; “and welcome.” + +“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.” + +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. + +Falkenberg was thoroughly pleased with himself. + +“You're looking simply green with envy now,” he said. “You'd better take +something for it. Try a little castor-oil, now, do.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +It was like that all the time--jesting and merriment from one to the +other. + +That evening the Captain came out to me. + +“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.” + +“Me?” + +“Yes. Because she knows you.” + +“Why, as for that, 'twould have been safe enough as it was.” + +“Do you mind going at all?” + +“No.” + +“Good! Then that's settled.” + +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.” + +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. + +I thought and thought over this explanation. + +“But if you get taken on at the vicarage, then it's all off with our +railway work,” said Falkenberg. + +“I shan't,” said I. + + + + +XXIII + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Can't you stop?” they cried. + +“I thought ... you don't generally have dinner till three....” + +“But we're hungry.” + +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? +“_Værsaagod_!” + +But I felt I could not well sit down to eat with them, so I remained +standing by the horses. + +“Well?” said Fruen. + +“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. + +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: + +“Oh, I think it's just lovely to have meals out of doors. Don't you?” + +And here she said _De_, instead of _Du_, as she had said before. + +“It's not so new to him, you know,” said Fruen; “he has his dinner out +in the woods every day.” + +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.... + +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. + +After a little while Fruen called: + +“You must come and stand by the horses; we are going off to see if we +can find some wild hops or something nice.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“No.” + +“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. + +By way of saying something, I asked about young Erik. He had been thrown +by a runaway horse and badly hurt.... + +“He's better now,” said Frøkenen shortly.--“Are you ready to go on again, +Lovise?” + +“Yes, indeed. Can we start?” + +“Whenever you please,” I answered. + +And we drove on again. + +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. + +Then came a knocking on the window of the carriage. + +“Wasn't it here you went riding one night on borrowed horses?” said +Frøkenen laughingly. “Oh, we know all about it, never fear!” + +And both the ladies were highly amused. + +I answered on a sudden thought: + +“And yet your father would have me to take service with him--or wasn't +it so?” + +“Yes.” + +“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.” + +She thought quickly, and glanced at Fruen and said: + +“I wrote home and told them.” + +Fruen cast down her eyes. + +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....” + +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. + +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! + +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.... + +I woke to find some one touching me. + +“You mustn't lie here, you know; it's simply freezing,” said +Præstefruen. “Come with me, and I'll show you....” + +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. + + + + +XXIV + + +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. + +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. + +I greeted her Godmorgen. + +“_Godmorgen_!” 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?” + +The last words came to me as if in a dream, and I did not answer. + +“Well, why don't you answer?” + +“Yes ... in the barn? Yes.” + +“Were you? And was it quite all right?” + +“Yes.” + +“Oh, well, then ... yes--yes. We shall be going back sometime to-day.” + +She turned and walked away, her face all in one great flush.... + + * * * * * + +Harald came and asked me to make a kite. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +Ready to start. + +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. + +Frøken Elisabeth brings out some food for the journey, and wraps her +friend up well. + +“Sure you'll be warm enough, now?” she asks for the last time. + +“Quite sure, thanks; it's more than warm enough with all these. _Farvel, +Farvel_.” + +“See you drive as nicely as you did yesterday,” says Frøken, with a nod +to me as well. + +And we drove off. + +The day was raw and chilly, and I saw at once that Fruen was not warm +enough with her rug. + +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. + +“We'll go up there and have dinner,” she says. “Come up as soon as +you're ready, and bring the basket.” + +And she walked up the hill. + +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. + +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: + +“I suppose I am to help you again to-day?” + +“Thank you, if you will.” + +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. + +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: + +“There is room here.” + +I can hear my own heart beating and I murmur something: + +“Thanks; it's quite all right. I'd rather....” + +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. + +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. + +She tried to put on a housewifely tone: + +“Won't you have some more? I'm sure you can't have....” + +“No, thank you very much.... Shall I pack up the things now? But I doubt +if I can.” + +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: + +“Have you no gloves?” + +“No; I never wear them.” + +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: + +“Where do you come from?” + +“From Nordland.” + +Pause. + +I ventured to ask in my turn if Fruen had ever been there. + +“Yes; when I was a child.” + +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. + +I rose at once and went out to the horses. + +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. + +“Where are you going?” + +“To fetch the basket.” + +“You needn't trouble, thanks; there's nothing to take back.” + +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. + +“Oh, what a blessing!” cried Fruen. “Why, where was it?” + +“Under the seat here.” + +“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.” + +I closed the carriage door and climbed to my seat. + +“Now, if she knocks at the window again, it's that rug,” I thought to +myself. “Well, I won't stop....” + +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. + +We were nearing home now. + +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. + +In desperation I checked the horses a little before we got to the steps, +and got down to open the carriage door. + +“But why ... what on earth have you pulled up here for?” + +“I only thought if perhaps Fruen wouldn't mind getting out here. It's +all mud on ahead ... the wheels....” + +She must have thought I was trying to entice her into something, Heaven +knows!... + +“Drive on, man, do!” she said. + +The horses moved on, and the carriage stopped just where the light was +at its full. + +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. + +“Thanks,” she said to me, glancing round as she went in. “Heavens, how +dreadfully wet you are!” + + + + +XXV + + +A curious piece of news awaited me: Falkenberg had taken service with +the Captain as a farm-hand. + +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.... + +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. + +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. + +“Where have you been?” asks Falkenberg. + +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. + +“You've been up to see Rønnaug, I bet,” he said. + +I answered: yes, I had been with Rønnaug, since he'd guessed it. + +“'Twas none so hard to guess,” he said. “Anyhow, you won't see me +running after any of them now.” + +“Going to have Emma, then?” + +“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.” + +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. + +Next morning the fever is gone; I am still a little weak, but make ready +to go out to the wood all the same. + +“You won't need to put on your woodcutting things again,” says +Falkenberg. “I told you that before.” + +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. + +“So you're not coming up to the hills, then?” I asked. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Here,” he says, “I'll give you these.” + +“What's that?” + +“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.” + +And he hands me the papers and the key. + +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. + +Whereat Falkenberg burst out laughing, relieved to find me ready with a +jest to the last.... + +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. + +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.... + +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. + +“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?” + +I said it was as he pleased, and many thanks. + +“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....” + +I said I would be quite content with the same. + +“H'm! Your friend and I agreed you ought to have more per day.” + +Falkenberg had said no word of this to me; it sounded like the Captain's +own idea. + +“I agreed with him we should share alike,” said I. + +“But you were sort of foreman; of course, you ought to have fifty øre +per day extra.” + +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: + +“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.” + +He handed me the paper. + +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. + +Then he asked: + +“So you're going off now to work on the railway?” + +I said I was not quite sure as to that. + +“Well, well... anyhow, thanks for the time you've been with us.” + +He moved towards the door. And I, miserable weakling that I was, could +not hold myself in check, but asked: + +“You won't be having any work for me later on, perhaps, in the spring?” + +“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?” + +I ventured to ask if I might leave it on the place. + +“Certainly,” said the Captain. + +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. + +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. + +Emma comes in: “_Værsaagod_; there's something ready for you in the +kitchen.” + +To my horror she had my rug over one arm. + +“And Fruen told me to ask if this wasn't your rug.” + +“Mine? No; I've got mine here with my things.” + +Emma goes off again with the rug. + +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. + +Emma came in again with the rug and laid it down neatly folded on a +stool. + +“If you don't hurry up, the coffee'll be cold,” she says. + +“What did you put that rug there for?” + +“Fruen told me to.” + +“Oh, well, perhaps it's Falkenberg's,” I muttered. + +Emma asks: + +“Are you going away now for good?” + +“Yes, seeing you won't have anything to do with me.” + +“You!” says Emma, with a toss of her head. + +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. + +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. + +“I'd have liked to say good-bye to Fruen, too, but....” + +“Fruen's indoors. I'll....” + +Emma goes in, and comes back a moment later. + +“Fruen's lying down with a headache. She sent her very good wishes.” + +“Come again!” said all the girls as I set off. + +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. + +Going down the road, I turned once or twice and looked back towards the +windows of the house. Then all was out of sight. + + + + +XXVI + + +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. + +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! + +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.... + +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. + +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. + +And I go back to the woods. + +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?” + +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. + +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. + +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! + +Good-night for ever! + +And, of course, I shall not come back to this place in the spring. A +ridiculous idea! + + * * * * * + +When I got down on to the high road, I shouldered my sack once more and +set out on my travels.... + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + + + + +XXVII + + +I have been staying here a couple of days; Petter has come home, but had +nothing to tell. + +“Is all well at Øvrebø?” + +“Ay, there's nothing wrong that I know of.” + +“Did you see them all before you left? The Captain, Fruen?” + +“Yes.” + +“Nobody ill?” + +“No. Why, who should there be?” + +“Well, Falkenberg said something about he'd hurt his hand. But I suppose +it's all right now, then.” + +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.” + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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.... + +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? + +“Maybe because I'm going away,” I answered. “I've a good long way to go +between now and Monday morning.” + +“Then perhaps we ought to have a parting glass tonight?” + +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. + +“What do you mean?” I asked. “I've bought three bottles of wine that I've +to take with me to a certain place.” + +“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.” + +“Frøkenen forgets that it's Sunday tomorrow, and the stores on the road +will be shut,” said I. + +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. + +But surely there was no hurry--wouldn't it do tomorrow? + +I was in a hurry--thank you. I had been there two days--what did that +come to? + +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. + +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. + +When I came into the room again, Petter said: + +“You don't mean to say you're starting out tonight?” + +“Yes, I do.” + +“You've no call to heed the girls' nonsense, anyway.” + +“_Herregud_, let the old fellow go if he wants to,” said his sister. + +At last the deputy and his wife came in again, stiffly and stubbornly +silent. + +Well! And how much did I owe them? + +H'm! They would leave it to me. + +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. + +Was that enough? + +H'm! A tidy bit, for sure, but still.... And some might say 'twas +enough, but.... + +How much was it I had given her? + +A five-Kroner note. + +Well, perhaps it was barely enough; I felt in my pocket for some more. + +“No, mother, it was a ten-Kroner,” said Petter. “And that's too much; +you'll have to give him something back.” + +The old woman opens her hand, looks at the note, and turns so very +surprised all at once. + +“Why, so it is, ten Kroner, yes.... I didn't properly look. Why, then, +'tis right enough, and many thanks....” + +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. + +The old woman comes out in the passage and tries making up to me. + +“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.” + +“_Farvel_,” said I shortly, and would hear no more. + +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.... + +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. + +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. + + + + +XXVIII + + +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. + +A little after the girl came in again with her mother, who was still +buttoning her clothes about her. _Godkvæld!_ 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. + +And where would they sleep themselves? + +Why, it was near day now, and the girl'd be sitting up anyhow for a bit +with her sewing. + +What was she sewing to sit up for all night? A new dress? + +No, only the skirt. She was to wear it to church in the morning, but +wouldn't hear of her mother helping. + +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. + +Was I a tailor, then? + +No. But I sold sewing-machines. + +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. + +How old was she? + +Sixteen. Confirmed last year. + +And what was her name? + +Olga. + +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 +_Pan_, and elsewhere.] + +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. + +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. + +Her mother answered it would have to wait till she'd been out in service +for a bit. + +Was she going out in service? + +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. + +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. + +The good woman did not know. Must be something her husband had bought in +his time. + +“Did he buy it here?” + +More likely 'twould have been at Hersæt, where he had been in service as +a young man. Might be thirty years gone now. + +I have a little plan in my head already, and say: + +“That picture is worth a deal of money.” + +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. + +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. + +I put on a knowing, mysterious air, and ask for further details of the +case--where Hersæt might be. + +Hersæt was in the neighbouring parish, some eight miles away. The +Lensmand lived there.... + +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. + +Olga is growing so fast, I am told, that there's no sense in buying a +blouse for her this twelvemonth to come. + +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. + +“You ought to be properly thankful, I'm sure,” says the mother, “to the +strange man for all the way he's helped you.” + +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. + +“You'd better go too,” I say to her mother. “I won't sit talking any +more, for I'm tired myself.” + +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. + + + + +XXIX + + +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. + +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. + +“Couldn't we just take it in a bit at the sides?” I ask. “There's plenty +of time.” + +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. + +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. + +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.... + +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.... + +Hersæt now; was that a big place? + +Yes, a fine big place. + +I sit for a while blinking sleepy eyes and making excursions in +etymology. Hersæt might mean _Herresæte_. [Footnote: Manor.] Or possibly +some _herse_ [Footnote: Local chieftain in ancient times.] might have +held sway there. And the _herse's_ 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.... + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The woman incredulous as ever. + +Never mind, say I; if she was content, why, so was I. The picture was of +value; I knew what I was doing. + +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. + +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! + +I couldn't. Hadn't time. Tell her from me, if there was anything she +couldn't make out, to look in the directions.... + +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. + +Neurasthenia.... + +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.... + + +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. + +“No, I've no work for you. Where do you come from?” + +I named some places I had lately passed. + +“No money, I suppose, and go about begging?” + +No, I did not beg; I had money enough. + +“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? + +“Yes.” + +“H'm. Well, I don't use wooden fences any more. I've put up wire. Do +bricklayer's work?” + +“Yes.” + +“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.” + +He stood poking his stick in the ground. + +“What made you come to me?” + +“Every one said go to the Lensmand if I wanted work.” + +“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!-- + +“Worked for Captain Falkenberg, you said, at Øvrebø?” + +“Yes.” + +“What were you doing there?” + +“Felling timber.” + +“I don't know him--he lives a long way off. But I've heard of him. Any +papers from him?” + +I showed him what the Captain had written. + +“Come along with me,” said the Lensmand abruptly. He led me round the +house and into the kitchen. + +“Give this man a thorough good meal--he's come a long way, and....” + +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. + +“Look here, you....” he began. + +I got up at once and stood straight as an arrow--a piece of politeness +which I fancy was not lost on him. + +“No, no, finish your meal, go on. Finished? Sure? Well, I've been +thinking.... Come along with me.” + +He took me out to the woodshed. + +“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.” + +I showed him the notes I had. + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + + + + +XXX + + +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. + +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. + +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: + +“_If only I were where you are, I would work for two_.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Suddenly a thought strikes me, and I grasp the letter. Yes, it is for +me; I forgot ... yes, of course.... + +And I hurry out into the road, with something ringing in my ears all the +time, and open the letter, and read: + +“_Skriv ikke til mig_--” [Footnote: “Do not write (skrive) to me.”] + +No name, no place, but so clear and lovely. The first word was +underlined. + +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. _Skriv ikke_. 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. + +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. + +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.... + +That evening, when we were back home, the Lensmand came out and talked +to us of this and that, and asked: + +“Didn't you say you'd been working for Captain Falkenberg at Øvrebø?” + +“Yes.” + +“I see he's invented a machine.” + +“A machine?” + +“A patent saw for timber work. It's in the papers.” + +I started at this. Surely he hadn't invented my patent saw? + +“There must be some mistake,” I said. “It wasn't the Captain who +invented it.” + +“Oh, wasn't it?” + +“No it wasn't. But the saw was left with him.” + +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:...” + +“You don't mean to say it's your invention?” + +“Yes, it is.” + +“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?” + +“Yes, all his people on the place did.” + +“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!” + +I was obliged to confess I could not understand the Captain. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“What is it?” asked the lad from the other bed. + +I rub my eyes and answer I'd been dreaming, that was all. + +“Who was it came in just now?” asks the boy. + +“I don't know. Was there any one in here?” + +“I saw some one going...” + + + + +XXXI + + +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. + +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. + +I thought to myself: there, that's clear and sound; if the machine's not +there that Monday, why, then, something will happen. + +I took the letter to the post myself, and stuck a strip of stamps across +the envelope as before.... + +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. +_Skriv ikke_. No, indeed, but I could come. And then a dash at the end. + +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! + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +The Lensmand and I looked at each other. + +“Well, what do you say now?” he asked. + +“That the Captain, at any rate, is innocent.” + +“Ho! D'you know what I think?” + +Pause. The Lensmand playing Lensmand from top to toe, unravelling +schemes and plots. + +“He is not innocent,” said he. + +“Really?” + +“Ah, I've seen that sort of thing before. Drawing in his horns, that's +all. Your letter put him on his guard. Haha!” + +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. + +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. + +“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?” + +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.... + +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. + +“That you, Olga? Where are you going?” + +She had come to see me. + +How did she know I was here? + +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.... + +Yes, the machine was hers all right; hadn't I taken her picture in +exchange? Did it work all right? + +Yes, it worked all right. + +We did not talk much together; I wanted to get her away before the +Lensmand came out and began asking questions. + +“Well, run along home now, child; you've a long way to go.” + +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. + + + + +XXXII + + +I am nearly at my goal. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +Was he going out with the carriage? + +No, just come back the night before. Been to the railway station. + +Who had gone away, then? + +Fruen. + +Fruen? + +Fruen, yes. + +Pause. + +Really? And where was Fruen gone to? + +Gone to stay in town for a bit. + +Pause. + +“Stranger man's been here writing in the papers about that machine of +yours,” says Falkenberg. + +“Is the Captain gone away too?” + +“No, Captain's at home. You should have seen his face when your letter +came.” + +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. + +“What was that about the Captain and my letter? Did he see it?” + +“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.” + +“And what did she say?” + +“She didn't say any more. Yes, she asked once again, 'Coming on the +11th, is he?' And I said yes, he was.” + +“And then, a couple of days after, you got orders to drive her to the +station?” + +“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?” + +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. + +Falkenberg went on, a little awkwardly: + +“Well, I showed the Captain your letter, though you didn't say I was to. +Was there any harm in that?” + +“It doesn't matter. What did he say?” + +“'Yes, look after the machine, do,' he said, and made a face. 'In case +any one comes to steal it,' he said.” + +“Then the Captain's angry with me now?” + +“Nay, I shouldn't think so. I've heard no more about it since that day.” + +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? + +Well, it was only about a filigree brooch I had got hold of, and wanted +to ask if she'd care to buy it. + +“Let's look.” + +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. + +“Fruen wouldn't have it,” said Emma. “I wouldn't have it myself.” + +“Not if you got me into the bargain, Emma, what?” And I forced myself to +jest again. + +Emma goes off. I try drawing out Falkenberg again. Falkenberg was sharp +enough at times to understand people. + +Did he still sing for Fruen? + +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. + +Trouble and misery? Weren't they friends, then, the Captain and his +Lady? + +Oh yes, they were friends. In the same old way. Last Saturday she had +been crying all day. + +“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. + +“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.” + +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. + +Emma stole some food for me before I went. + +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. + +On the following afternoon I came to the vicarage. I had reckoned out it +would be best to speak with Fruen. + +“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?” + +“Are you going into town?” says Fruen. “But you'll stay here till +tomorrow, surely?” + +“No, thanks all the same. I've got to be in town tomorrow.” + +Fruen thinks for a bit and then says: + +“Elisabeth's in town. You might take a parcel in for her--something +she's forgotten.” + +That gives me the address! I thought to myself. + +“But I've got to get it ready first.” + +“Then Frøken Elisabeth might be gone again before I got there?” + +“Oh no, she's with Fru Falkenberg, and they're staying in town for the +week.” + +This was grand news, joyous news. Now I had both the address and the +time. + + +Fruen stands watching me sideways, and says: + +“Well, then, you'll stay the night, won't you? You see, it's something +I've got to get ready first....” + +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: + +“Excuse my coming so late. But I thought you might be going early +to-morrow morning before I was up.” + + + + +XXXIII + + +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. + +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. + +“Frøken Elisabeth? Yes, would you wait a moment?” + +Frøken Elisabeth comes out. “_Goddag_. You wished to speak to.... Oh, is +it you?” + +I had brought a parcel from her mother. _Værsaagod_. + +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.” + +“Really! It's not so very long since....” + +“No, but.... Tell me, isn't there any one else you'd like to inquire +about? Haha!” + +“Yes,” said I. + +“Well, she's not here. I'm only staying here with my relations. No, +she's at the Victoria.” + +“Well, the parcel was for you,” said I, trying to master my +disappointment. + +“Wait a minute. I was just going out again; we can go together.” + +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. + +Would she rather go somewhere else? + +“Yes. To the Grand.” + +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. + +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. + +“What fine clothes you're wearing now,” she says, with a laugh. + +“I couldn't very well come in here in a workman's blouse.” + +“No, of course not. But, honestly, that blouse ... shall I tell you what +I think?” + +“Yes, do.” + +“The blouse suited you better.” + +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. + +“Are you staying long in town?” I asked. + +“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?” + +“Yes. That was a pleasant time.” + +“And will you come again soon? Haha!” + +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.... + +“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?” + +She closed her eyes and laughed--so heartily she laughed. + +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. + +“You know these people, it seems?” + +“Yes, one or two of them. Have you enjoyed yourself in town?” + +“Oh yes, immensely. I've two boy cousins here, and then there were their +friends as well.” + +“Poor young Erik, out in the country,” said I jestingly. + +“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.” + +“Oh, that won't last long.” + +“Do you think so? Really, though, I'm rather serious about it. I've an +idea he might be coming in here this evening.” + +“You must point him out to me if he does.” + +“I thought, as we drove out here, that you and I could sit here +together, you know, and make him jealous.” + +“Right, then, we will.” + +“Yes, but.... No, you'd have to be a bit younger. I mean....” + +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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +She thinks for a moment. + +“Yes, we will,” she says generously. + +We go out to the telephone, ring up the Victoria: Fruen is there. + +“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....” + +Frøken Elisabeth rang off, and said shortly: + +“She had to go and see some friends.” + +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: + +“Oh, there's Bewer! I'm so glad we're drinking champagne.” + +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.... + +“This will never do,” says Frøken Elisabeth. + +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. + +“No, really, though, do you think I'm nice?” + +“Oh, please--don't you understand?--I was speaking of Fru Falkenberg.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“But you can't get Fru Falkenberg,” she says, beginning again. “It's +simply hopeless.” + +“No, I can't get her. Nor you either.” + +“Are you speaking to Fru Falkenberg now again?” + +“No, it was to you this time.” + +Pause. + +“Do you know I was in love with you? Yes, when I was at home.” + +“This is getting quite amusing,” said I, shifting up on the sofa. “Oh, +we'll manage Bewer, never fear.” + +“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.” + +“Now you're talking to Bewer, of course,” said I. + +“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.” + +“Only think, that it should have been me,” I say, putting on a +melancholy air. + +“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.” + +“Does Fru Falkenberg say the same?” + +“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? + +“Yes, tell me.” + +“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.” + +“Was it you did that?” I burst out quite sincerely, forgetting to play +my part. + +“You ought to have seen me stealing in. Hahaha!” + +But this young girl was--not artful enough, she changed colour at her +little confession, and laughed forcedly to cover her confusion. + +I try to help her out, and say: + +“You're really good-hearted, you know. Fru Falkenberg would never have +done a thing like that.” + +“No; but then she's older. Did you think we were the same age?” + +“Does Fru Falkenberg say she doesn't _want_ to be fond of anybody?” + +“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....” + +“Yes ... that was nice of you. And now I'll do something for you in +return.” + +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....” + + + + +XXXIV + + +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. + +Yes, Fruen was in. Room No. 12, first floor. + +Then she was not out visiting friends? + +No. + +Was she leaving shortly? + +Fruen had not said so. + +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. + +“Where to?” + +“Just stay where you are. I'm hiring you by the hour.” + +The cabmen walk about whispering, one suggesting this, another that: +he's watching the place; out to catch his wife meeting some commercial +traveller. + +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. + +“Whereabouts is No. 12?” + +“First floor.” + +“Looking out on to Raadhusgaten?” + +“Yes.” + +“Then it must have been my sister,” I say, inventing something in order +to slip past the porter. + +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. + +“Is it the maid?” comes a voice from within. + +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. + +“No, it's not the maid,” I say, and I can hear how the words quiver +strangely. + +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. + +“No, no.” says the maid; “only a gentleman going downstairs.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +No, it was no good. I paid for the cab, went home, and wrote the +following letter: + +“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.” + +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. + +I took the letter round myself to the hotel, and went home again. + +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. + +Hours pass. When I awake and come to my senses, I hurry anxiously to the +telephone to ask if Fruen had left. + +No, Fruen had not left. + +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. + +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. + +No, Fruen had not left yet. But her things were packed. She was out just +now. + +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. + +Fruen was gone. + +Gone? + +“Was it you that rang up? She came just at that moment and took her +things. But I've a letter here.” + +I took the letter, and, without opening it, asked about the train. + +“Train left at 4.45,” says the porter, looking at his watch. “It's five +now.” + +I had thrown away half an hour keeping watch outside. + +I sit down on one of the steps, staring at the floor. + +The porter keeps on talking. He must be well aware it was not my sister. + +“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.” + +“Was there another lady with her when she left?” + +“No.” + +I got up and went out. In the street I opened the letter and read: + +“You _must_ not follow me about any more--” + +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.... + +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. + +Frøken Elisabeth had left an hour before. + +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. + +Ay, for I've not got over my neurasthenia yet. + +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. + +One day I suppose I shall grow tired of this unconsciousness, and go out +and live on an island once again. + + + + + + +A WANDERER PLAYS ON MUTED STRINGS + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +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. + +I was thinking of this only yesterday evening. + +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. + +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. + +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, '_Augh_!' 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.” + +So Rough told his story, and sat staring coolly in front of him when it +was ended. + +I have no murders to tell of, but joys and sufferings and love. And love +is no less violent and perilous than murder. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“You're a fool,” said he, “and the sooner you're off the place the +better I'll be pleased.” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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! + + * * * * * + +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. + +“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. + +I was confused at this. “Can't you see me?” I said. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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.” + +“Is he often away, then?” + +“Nay, he'll be at home.” + +“Has he got the field work done?” + +The man smiled: “Nay, I doubt it's not finished yet.” + +“Are there hands enough to the place?” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Here the furrow ended, and the man turned his team about. I thanked him, +and went on my way. + +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. + +Well, here I was, and that was four o'clock in the afternoon of the 26th +day of April. + +Old folk have a memory for dates. + + + + +I + + +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. + +Good! Might I go over to the men's room and sit down and rest a while? + +Certainly. + +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. + +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. + +I asked how that could be. + +“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.” + +'Twas his affair. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +A strange cook and strange maids. I get my food and go out again. No +sign of master or mistress anywhere. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +Sunday. + +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. + +When I got back, Nils asked: “Did you hear them singing and carrying on +last night?” + +“Yes; what was it?” + +“Visitors,” said he, with a laugh. + +Visitors! yes, there were always visitors at Øvrebø just now. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Nils bursts out laughing: “Oh, that Captain! look at him!” + +“What's his name?” + +“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.” + +“And the Engineer?” + +“His name's Lassen, so I've heard. He's only been here once before in my +time.” + +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. + +More people come out from the house--an elderly lady wearing a shawl, +and two gentlemen with her. + +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. + +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. + +Says Nils: + +“They've always such a lot to talk about, those two. She never comes +here but they go off for long walks together.” + +“And what does Fru Falkenberg say to that?” + +“I've never heard she troubled about it any way.” + +“And Elisabet, hasn't she any children either?” + +“Ay, she's many.” + +“But how can she get away so often with that big place and the children +to look after?” + +“It's all right as long as Erik's mother's alive. She can get away all +she wants.” + +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. + +Nils comes in again. + +“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. + +I glanced out of the window; the couple by the flagstaff have moved away +at last. + + * * * * * + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +The Captain had told him. + +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. + +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. + +And Fruen? + +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. + +Emma comes out and joins us. She looks well and handsome still, and I +tell her so. + +“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. + +“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. + +I walk back home. Night is deepening; all the birds are silent; the air +calm and warm, in a soft bluish gloom. + + * * * * * + +“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.” + +“Have you forgotten what you were like last year?” answers Fru +Falkenberg. “You were nice and young then, and never said such things.” + +“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.” + +“Yes, so I did,” says Fru Falkenberg, with a laugh. + +“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?” + +“Oh, you child!” + +“And this evening you're lovelier still.” + +“There's some one coming!” + +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? + +“Yes, you're lovelier still tonight,” says the man again. I come up +alongside them, touching my cap carelessly, and pass on. + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“It's shut up at night,” says Fruen. “I dare say there's somebody in +there.” + +After that I heard no more. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Come along, there's nobody here!” he cries. + +Fru Falkenberg gets up and says: “Madman! Whatever are you doing?” + +But she goes towards him all the same. + +“Doing?” says he. “What else should I do? Love isn't glycerine--it's +nitro-glycerine.” + +And he takes her by the arm and leads her in. + +Well, 'tis their affair.... + +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 _mustn't_, I +tell you.” + +But the engineer ran after her, all the same. Wonderfully young he was, +and all inflexible. + +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. + +The Captain speaks: + +“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.” + +“I didn't think you cared so much, really,” she answers gently, trying +to help him along. + +“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!” + +She shook her head. + +“No; oh, I'd love to give you ... do what you....” + +“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! + +“Let me go,” she implored him. + +He loosened his hold a trifle and pressed her to him again. Once more it +looked as if both were resisting. + +“Come back up into the wood,” he urged again and again. + +“Oh, it's impossible!” she answered. “And then it's all wet with the +dew.” + +But the Captain was full of passionate words--full and frothing over. + +“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....” + +“They are brown, yes....” + +“You burn me with them; you--you roast me up!” + +“To tell the truth, you're not the first that's said nice things about +my eyes. My husband now....” + +“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.” + +“We'd better go indoors, I think,” she suggests. + +“Go in? There's not a corner anywhere indoors where we can be alone.” + +“Oh, we'll find somewhere!” she says. + +“Well, anyhow, we must have an end of it to-night,” says the Captain +decisively. + +And they go. + +I asked myself: was it to warn anybody I had thrown that empty bottle? + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + + + + +II + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The Captain must have guessed my difficulty, for he smiled and said: + +“Thinking what Nils might say? Well, perhaps I'd better talk to him +first.” + +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. + +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. + +Suddenly the Captain looks at me, and asks: + +“Well, have you lost your tongue?” + +“'Twas Nils,” I answer then. “Something gone wrong, it looks like; he's +taken the horses out.” + +“Well, and what then?” + +“Nay, I was only thinking....” + +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. + +“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....” + +“Well, and what then--what then?” + +“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.” + +At that the Captain swung on his heel and left me without a word. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +“What have you brought the horses in for now?” he asked. + +“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.” + +The Captain raps out his order: + +“I want a man to drive to the station.” + +Nils glances at me, and says half to himself: + +“H'm! So that's it? A nice time for that sort of thing.” + +“What's that you're muttering about?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“Do you go ploughing with other people's horses, Nils?” + +Pause. + +“I'll not have it here; you understand?” + +“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.” + +“I'll have no more of it. You hear what I say?” repeated the Captain +shortly. + +Pause. + +“Didn't you say one of the Captain's plough horses was ailing +yesterday?” I put in. + +Nils was quick to seize his chance. + +“Ay. So it was. Standing all a-tremble in its box. I couldn't have taken +it out anyway.” + +The Captain looked me coldly up and down. + +“What are you standing here for?” he asked sharply. + +“Captain said I was to drive to the station.” + +“Well, then, be off and get ready.” + +But Nils took him up on the instant. + +“That can't be done.” + +“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. + +“Can't be done?” said the Captain, astounded. “What do you mean?” + +“If Captain takes away the help I've got, then I've finished here, +that's all,” says Nils. + +The Captain walked to the stable door and looked out, biting his +moustache and thinking hard. Then he asked over his shoulder: + +“And you can't spare the lad, either?” + +“No,” said Nils; “he's the harrowing to do.” + +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. + +“I want a case fetched from the station,” he said one day. “Can the boy +go in for it?” + +“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.” + +“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. + +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: + +“Will you go, too?” + +“Yes,” said I. + +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.” + +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. + +Ay, that was our way, no doubt. + +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. + +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 “_Goddag_,” and passed on. + +It could not be all over for good between the Captain and his wife. I +based this view upon the following grounds: + +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. + +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: + +“That Ragnhild's an underhanded creature; I'd be glad to be rid of her.” + +Fruen answered: + +“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.” + +“For that particular purpose, I dare say,” he retorted. + +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! + +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! + +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. + +“Give my coat a bit of a brush, d'you mind?” says he to Ragnhild. + +She obeyed. When she had finished, he thanked her, saying: “Thank you, +my child.” + +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: + +“Wonderfully bright eyes that girl has, to be sure.” + +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: + +“I shouldn't be surprised if Ragnhild's eyes were a little too bright.” + +“Eh?” says the Captain, in surprise. + +“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.” + +Silence. + +“So perhaps she'd better go,” Fruen went on. + +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. + +When we got outside, Nils said angrily: + +“I'm not sure but I'd better go back and say a word or two myself about +that.” + +But I dissuaded him, saying it was not worth troubling about. + +A few days passed. Again the Captain found an opportunity of paying +barefaced compliments to Ragnhild: “... with a figure like yours,” he +said. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Yes, the Captain and Elisabet might be content: the troublesome +parlour-maid was to be sent packing, surely enough. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Yes, that was the way of it. + +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. + +Then it was there came the happenings I spoke of. + + + + +III + + +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.” + +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. + +At last she had managed to wring some expression of feeling out of him. +She would try it again. + +This was on a Sunday. + +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. + +“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?” + +I said I would with pleasure. + +“Lars won't be home again till about eleven. So you need not start for a +long time yet.” + +Very good. + +“And when you get back, just give the letter to Ragnhild.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Ten minutes passed; then the light went out. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“You're mad,” said I to Ragnhild. + +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. + +I put on a lofty air at first and would have none of her tale-bearing, +thank you, listening at keyholes. Fie! + +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. + +This sounded a little more reasonable. + +“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.” + +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? + +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. + +“On the lips, was it?...” + +Ragnhild saw I was greatly excited, and tried to reassure me. + +“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....” + +“But what did Fruen say to that? Did she slip away?” + +“Yes, I think so; yes, of course she did--and screamed.” + +“Did she, though?” + +“Yes; out loud. And he said '_Sh_!' And every time she raised her voice +he said '_Sh_!' 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.” + +“Was she?” + +“Yes, indeed, I could see that much. Only fancy, a fellow like that! He +leaned over towards her, and put his hand so--there.” + +“And Fruen sat still and let him?” + +“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.” + +“Go on!” I said breathlessly. “What next?” + +“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!...” + +“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--” + +“Yes, yes; why didn't you? What on earth made you wait at all?” + +“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!...” + + * * * * * + +A long, restless night. + +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. + +Then Elisabet had come up and put in her word. And she was +smarter--_prrr_! 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.” + +Heavens! I thought to myself, why ever didn't she say they put the light +out _because_ they were going down? + +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!” + +All this Ragnhild had heard for herself standing close by. + +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. + +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: + +“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.” + +“Right!” I said. + +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. + +I took some tools and things and went down to the shrubbery. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +Fru Falkenberg came down the stone steps to the shrubbery, and called: + +“Is the Captain there?” + +“Yes,” said I. + +Then she came up. Her face was twitching with emotion. + +“I'd like a word with you,” she said. “I won't keep you long.” + +The Captain answered, without rising: + +“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. + +This I took to mean that he wanted the lock mended so he could take the +key with him when he went. + +“I dare say it wasn't--I oughtn't to have said what I did,” Fruen began. + +The Captain made no answer. + +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.” + +And she turned to go. + +“Did you want to speak to me?” asked the Captain. + +“Oh no, it doesn't matter. Thanks, I shan't trouble.” + +“Very well,” said the Captain. He smiled as he spoke. He was drunk, no +doubt, and angry about something. + +But Fruen turned as she passed by me in the doorway, and said: + +“You ought not to drive down there today. There's gossip enough +already.” + +“You need not listen to it,” he answered. + +“It can't go on like this, you know,” she said again. “And you don't +seem to think of the disgrace....” + +“We're both a little thoughtless in that respect,” he answered +carelessly, looking round at the walls. + +I took the lock and stepped outside. + +“Here, don't go running away now!” cried the Captain. “I'm in a hurry!” + +“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....” + +“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!” + +“I'll have to finish this on the anvil,” said I, and hurried off. + +I stayed away longer than was needed, but when I came back Fruen was +still there. They were talking louder than before. + +“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....” + +“Well, and what then?” said the Captain. + +“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!” + +These were her last words, and they sounded like an arrow striking a +shield. She stepped out and strode away. + +“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.” + +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. + +A little later he drove away with Elisabet. + +“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!” + + + + +IV + + +Evening came. And what would happen now? A great deal, as it turned out. + +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.” + +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. + +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? + +'Twas their affair. + +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. + +“Come over with me and you can hear them yourself,” said Ragnhild. +“They're up in Fruen's room now.” + +“No,” I said. “I'm going to bed. And you'd better go, too.” + +“But they'll ring in a minute and be wanting something if I do.” + +“Let them ring!” + +And then it was Ragnhild confessed that the Captain himself had asked +her to stay up that night in case Fruen should want her. + +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. + +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.” + +I wished I could have seen her for a moment. + +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. + +“No; go in and ask Fruen to come out here to me,” I said. + +“Why, whatever for?” + +“I've a message for her.” + +And Ragnhild knocked at the door and went in. + +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: _Kapteinen bad mig hilse Dem_: literally, +“The Captain bade me greet you.” Such a message would not seem quite so +uncalled for in Norway, such greetings (_Hilsen_) 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.” + +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. + +Fruen asked in surprise: + +“Well, what do you want?” + +Ragnhild came up, too, and looked at me wonderingly. + +I turned the lamp towards Fruen's face and said: + +“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?” + +“Letters? No,” she answered, shaking her head. + +There was an absent look in her eyes, but she did not look in the least +as if she had been drinking. + +“No, I've no letters,” she said, and moved to go. + +“Beg pardon, then,” I said. + +“Was it the Captain told you to go to the post?” she asked. + +“No, I was just going for myself.” + +She turned and went back to her room. Before she was well through the +door I heard her say to the others: + +“A nice pretext, indeed.” + +Ragnhild and I went down again. I had seen her. + +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. + +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. + +I threw myself down fully dressed on the bed. + +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! + +But her voice seemed a trifle less clear now than before. + +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! + +“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?” + +“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. + +“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....” + +“I'll never do it again, Hugo.” + +“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.” + +“You're so excited, Hugo. No, it's getting late now. We'd better say +good-night.” + +“Will you show me that letter?” + +“Show you the letter? Certainly not!” + +At that he made a half-spring, as if to take it by force, but checked +himself, and snapped out: + +“What? You won't? Well, on my word you are.... Mean's not the word for +it. You're something worse....” + +“Hugo!” + +“Yes, you are!” + +“If you _will_ 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?” + +He quailed as if at a blow, and only said: + +“From your mother. Why, then, it didn't matter at all?” + +“No; there you are. Oh, but of course it did matter in a way, but +still....” + +He leaned up against the fence, and began to work it out: + +“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.” + +She tried again. + +“It was an important letter. Mama is coming--she's coming here to stay +very soon. And I was waiting to hear.” + +“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.” + +“Oh, do be sensible! It's ever so late; we must go in.” + +“Ugh! I had too much to drink up there, I think. Can't talk straight +now.” + +He could think of nothing but the letter, and went on about it again: + +“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. _Godnat, Frue_. My dutiful respects, as from a son.” + +He bowed, and stood watching her with a sneering smile. + +“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? . . .” + +“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.” + +“Great white wings,” she murmured to herself. + +“Yes, you might have great red wings. Look at yourself now, standing +there all lovely as you are, and all for nothing.” + +“Oh, I think the wine has gone to my head! All for nothing, indeed!” + +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?” + +They pass along the path to the summer-house. Here she hesitates, and +stops. + +“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.” + +Full of bitterness and suspicion, he answered: + +“Now, you're cheating again. You knew well enough the door was locked.” + +“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 _did_ 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!” + +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: + +“I've never kissed any other man before--never! It's true--I swear it. +I've never kissed....” + +“No, no, no,” he answers impatiently, drawing her step by step the way +he will. + +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. + +But even at the door, she checks again--stands clinging to the +door-post, and will not move. + +“No, no, I've never been unfaithful to him yet. I won't; I've +never--never....” + +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.... + +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.... + +A melancholy weariness and rest comes over me. I feel miserable and +alone. It is late; my heart has had its day.... + +Through the white mist comes a leaping figure; it is Ragnhild coming up +from among the bushes, running with her tongue thrust out. + + * * * * * + +The engineer came up to me, nodded _Godmorgen_, and asked me to mend the +summer-house door. + +“Is it broken again?” + +“Yes, it got broken last night.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“I'm in charge of some timber-rafting on the rivers,” he said. “How long +are you staying here?” + +“Not for long. Till the field-work's over for the season.” + +“I could give you work if you'd care about it.” + +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. + +“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.” + +I made no answer; it would have pleased me better if he had said +nothing. + +“So I thought I'd ask you before you started out to work,” he said, to +finish off. + +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. + +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: + +“Oh, I forgot, I must . . .” + +And he hurried off far down the garden. + +“So he's going to sneak out of it, after all,” I thought to myself. + +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: + +“Hei! how did you get in there?” + +I touched my cap, but said nothing. + +“Somebody been breaking in again?” + +“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 . . .” + +Fool that I was! If that was the best excuse I could find, he would see +through it all at once. + +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? + + + + +V + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Where will you be going when you leave here?” asked the Captain. + +“I don't know. I'll be on the road for a bit.” + +“I could do with you here for a while; there's a lot of things that want +doing.” + +“Captain was thinking of paintwork, maybe?” + +“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?” + +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: + +“Ay, I'm used to timber. Where would it be this year?” + +“Anywhere. Wherever you like. There must be something left, surely.” + +“Ay, well.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +But there was a big scene between husband and wife before he went. + +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. + +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. + +“Oh, you don't say so!” cried all in the kitchen, clasping their hands. + +Ragnhild drew herself up and began mimicking: + +“'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.'” + +“Oh,” from all in the kitchen. “Oh but, _Herregud_! it will come right +again surely,” said Nils, looking round at the rest of us to see what we +thought. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“And I've heard Emma's been down here,” he went on. “But she'll come no +more, I fancy, after this.” + +“She may have been here once or twice for the washing.” + +“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.” + +“Well and good.” + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +“What have you got to come cackling about?” he asks. + +“I'm saying what is the truth, that's all,” answers Nils. + +“Ho, are you, you goat? If you want me to wipe the floor with you, I'll +do it on the spot!” + +Nils and I walked away, but Lars still shouted after us. And there was +Ragnhild, of course, sniffing at the lilacs as we passed. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +In town. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Grindhusen, that I had worked with as a young man at Skreia--my partner +in the digging of a certain well six years before. + +And now to meet him here. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.... + +Grindhusen lapsed into thought. + +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. + +“Wonder what these tiny things live on?” I say. + +“What tiny things?” says Grindhusen. “Those? That's only ants and +things.” + + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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?” + +“I don't know.” + +But Grindhusen looks at me suspiciously, thinking it is only that I will +not say. + +“Ay, well, 'tis all the same to me,” he says. “I was only asking.” + +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?” + +“Ay, dare say you may,” he answers enviously. “Two Kroner's all I get, +and I'm an old hand at the work.” + +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!” + +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. + +“He didn't say anything about me coming down into town?” asked +Grindhusen. + +“No.” + +“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!” + +It is getting late. Grindhusen yawns again, creeps into the hut and lies +down. + + * * * * * + +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. + +“Was it up this way you found that sheep?” I ask. + +Grindhusen looks at me. + +“Here? No, that was ever so far away--right over toward Trovatn.” + +“But Trovatn's only in the next parish, isn't it?” + +“Yes, that's what I say. It's ever so far away from here.” + +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. + +So I turned and went back the way I had come. + + + + +VI + + +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. + +That little town! + +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--“_Hoi-aho!_”--and then they giggle and nudge one another and go +on. + +But there are no birds here. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +I have nothing to do, and find myself pondering over the following +matter: + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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 _that_ 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 “_Ho!_” 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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +But the little town is a living death. + +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!” + +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! + +Oh, those local tradesmen! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The two are old acquaintances. + +“So here's you come to town?” + +“Ay, that's the way of it.” + +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 _skilling_ 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! + +“Why, you've coin and paper too; I saw a note in there.” + +“Nay, I'll not break the note.” + +More reckoning and arguing--a long business this; each gives way a +little, they split the difference--and the deal is over. + +“And a terrible heap to pay for a bit of leather,” says the purchaser. +And the dealer answers: + +“Nay, you've got it at a bargain. But don't forget me next time you're +in town.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +Engineer Lassen came to my lodging and said: + +“Put on your cap and come with me to the station to fetch a trunk.” + +“No,” said I. “I'm not going to do that.” + +“Not going to....” + +“No. There's a porter at the hotel for that sort of thing. Let him earn +the money.” + +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. + +“I'd rather have you,” he said. “I've a reason for it, and I wish you +would.” + +“That's a different matter. Then I will.” + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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 _skilling_ 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. + +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. + +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! + +“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.” + +“S-sh!” whispers Fruen. “Can't you get rid of that man there?” + +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: + +“Bring this along to the hotel.” + +“Very good,” I answered, touching my cap. + +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!” + +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. + + + + +VII + + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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: + +“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.” + +“We're sure to get rain before long,” I said, for the sake of saying +something. + +“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.” + +I answered him with a face as serious as his own that I would do my very +best. + +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. + +But then came the rain. + +And now the sticks went dancing down through channel and rapids, like +huge, pale serpents hurrying, hurrying on, now head, now tail in air. + +Easy days these for my engineer! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +But was my engineer so free from care? I began to doubt it. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“It must have been in fun, I'm sure. Did you hear it yourself? When was +it?” + +The traveller himself did not dare to make more of it. + +“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.” + +“Well, there you are--just nothing at all,” said the shopkeeper. + +But the traveller had heard more, I fancy, than he cared to say. I could +tell as much by his looks. + +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! + +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 _could_ 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! + + * * * * * + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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 +_Brændevin_, 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.” + +“You told him?” asked one of the men. + +“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.” + +“What'd he want to talk to you about?” asked one. + +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!” + +“But what was it all about?” asked several voices at once. + +“He'd better not say, if you ask me,” I said. + +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? + +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. + +Grindhusen stared at me when I had spoken my few words; the others, too, +looked wonderingly. + +“I'll not say, but it might be better not,” said Grindhusen +submissively. + +But the men were not to be put off. + +“And why shouldn't he tell? We're not going to let it go farther.” + +“No, that we shan't,” said another. “But you might be one of that sort +yourself and go telling tales to the Inspector.” + +Grindhusen took courage at this, and said: + +“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?” + +“Nay, surely; nay, surely!” said the men encouragingly. + +“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....” + +And Grindhusen rambled on. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +“Go on ahead a bit,” he said to the others. And then, turning to me, he +asked: “Where are you off to?” + +I told him what I had in mind. + +“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.” + +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. + +But begging his pardon only seemed to egg him on; he felt deeply +injured, and grew quite excited over it. + +“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.” + +I stood there staring at him, and said never a word. + +“You can come round to the office today and get your wages,” he went on. +And then he turned to go. + +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? + +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: + +“Ay, well, then, I can unpack the things I was taking along.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Well and good,” said I. + +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. + +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?” + +“No. That'll be for engineer himself to decide.” + +“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--” + +Oh, but he was young indeed. He stopped at nothing. + +“Well--good morning!” He nodded abruptly, and turned away. + + * * * * * + +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. + +What was I to do now? + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +“It's Henrik, one of the lumbermen,” said the girl. + +“Is he your sweetheart?” I asked. + +“No, indeed, I should think not,” she answered. “I'd rather go without +than have a fellow like him.” + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Come in and sit down,” he said to me. + +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. + +“Well, has he turned you off?” he asked, with a side glance at the +others, as if to bid them watch what was coming. + +“Yes,” said I. + +“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?” + +“Has he turned you off?” asked one of the other men then. + +“Yes,” I answered. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + + + + +VIII + + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +And Fru Falkenberg herself motioned me to a chair. + +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. + +“Here, you can use this,” said Fruen very obligingly, handing me a +letter-opener. + +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. + +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! + +Then said the engineer: + +“Oh, by the way, I noticed your letter was from Captain Falkenberg. How +are things going there? I knew the writing at once.” + +“Would you like to read the letter?” I said promptly, offering it as I +spoke. + +“No--oh no. Thanks, all the same. Not in the least. I was only....” + +But he took the letter, all the same. And Fruen came across to him and +stood looking over his shoulder as he read. + +“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. + +Fruen's manner was different. She took the letter from him and began +studying it herself. Her hand shook a little. + +“Well, now about the money,” said the engineer. “Here you are; that's +what I make it. I hope you're satisfied all right?” + +“Yes, thank you,” said I. + +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. + +“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.” + +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? + +The engineer glanced at her impatiently. + +“Are you learning it by heart?” he said, with a half-smile. “Come, dear, +he's waiting.” + +“Oh, I beg your pardon,” said Fruen quickly. “I forgot.” And she handed +me the letter. + +“So it seems,” observed the engineer. + +I bowed, and went out. + + * * * * * + +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: + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +With such childish fancies do I while away the time. + +“_Godaften_!” says Fru Falkenberg, and there she is beside me. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +“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.” + +“It doesn't matter.” + +“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....” + +She checked herself. + +“To have me about the place. Yes, it would be unpleasant.” + +“To see you here. A _little_ 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.” + +“So?” said I. “But when Fruen comes home again surely it will be just as +unpleasant to see me then?” + +“Home?” she repeated. “I'm not going home.” + +Pause. She had frowned as she spoke. But now she nodded, and even smiled +a little, and turned to go. + +“Well, well, you'll pardon me, then, I know,” she said. + +“Have you any objection to my going back to Captain Falkenberg?” I +asked. + +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? + +“No, no, indeed I've not!” she answered. “Go there, by all means.” + +And she turned and left me. + +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. + +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! + +But I did not go. + +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. + +So they were not all equally fruitless, those days in the little town. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Quite so,” says the engineer. “And it won't be any different. I can't +see what you've got to feel lonely about.” + +“Oh, you know well enough!” she answered. + +“No, I don't, and I do think you might be a little more cheerful.” + +“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.” + +He stopped on the stairs abruptly. “Really, I think you must be mad,” he +said. + +“I dare say I am,” she answered. + +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? + +He stood with one hand on the stair-rail and said: + +“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.” + +“And me,” she answered. “But now I'll have no more of it.” + +“Oh, indeed! You've said that before. You said it only a week ago.” + +“Well, I am going now.” + +He looked up at her. + +“Going away?” + +“Yes. Very soon.” + +But he saw that he had betrayed himself in grasping so eagerly, +delightedly, at the suggestion, and tried now to smooth it over. + +“There, there!” he said. “Be a nice sensible cousin now, and don't talk +about going away.” + +“I am going,” she said, and, slipping past him, went down the stairs by +herself. He followed after. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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: + +“No; did he, though? He didn't take them back, really?” + +“Nay,” said Grindhusen. “He didn't dare take off more than the one.” + +There was more laughter at this, and some one else asked: + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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: + + “_Beginning like a whisper in the corn one summer day_.” + +“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!” + +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, _à la grecque_, 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. + +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. + + + + +IX + + +The Captain arrived. + +I was giving the barn its second coat; at the sound of his voice I came +down from the ladder. He bade me welcome. + +“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?” + +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. + +He brightened up at that. + +“Yes, yes, of course. Well, I'm very glad you came. We must have the +flagstaff white, I suppose?” + +I did not dare tell him at once all I wanted done in white, but simply +said: + +“Yes. I've got hold of some white paint.” + +“Have you, though? That's good. You've brought another man up with you, +I hear?” + +“Yes. I don't know what Captain thinks....” + +“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?” + +“Yes.” + +“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?” + +“I thought of beginning this afternoon. It'll need scraping a bit here +and there.” + +“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?” + +“Yes.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“That's true. How did you know that, by the way?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +A wrinkle showed between his eyes for a moment; he stood looking +down--in thought. + +“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.” + +“There'd be no rock-work though, no blasting.” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“No, really?” + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +The Captain came up. “What colour's that you've got here?” he asked. + +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: + +“Oh, it's only some ... I don't know ... it doesn't matter what we put +on for the first coat....” + +That saved me for the time being, at any rate. The Captain said no more +about it then. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Are you doing it over with grey again?” he called up. + +“_Godmorgen_! Yes. I don't know if....” + +“Now what's the meaning of all this? Come down off that ladder at once!” + +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. + +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: + +“Nonsense! Yellow on top of that grey will look like mud; you can see +that for yourself, surely.” + +“Well, then, we might give it two coats of yellow,” I suggested. + +“Four coats of paint? No, thank you! And all that white you've been +wasting! It's ever so much dearer than the yellow.” + +This was perfectly true, and the very argument I had been fearing all +along. I answered now straight-forwardly: + +“Let me paint it grey.” + +“What?” + +“It would look better. There's something about the house ... and with +the green of the woods behind ... the style of the place is....” + +“Is grey, you mean?” He swung off impatiently a few steps and came back +again. + +And then I faced him, more innocently than ever, with an inspiration +surely sent from above: + +“Now I remember! Yes.... I've always seen it grey in my mind, ever since +one day--it was Fruen that said so....” + +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. + +“Indeed!” he said. “Did she say so?” + +“Yes, I'm almost sure it was that. It's a long time back now, but....” + +“Oh, nonsense!” he broke out abruptly, and strode away. I heard him +clearing his throat--hard--as he crossed the courtyard behind. + +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: + +“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.” + +The window had been open before, but he slammed it to and I went on with +the work. + +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. + +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: + +“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!” + +I made no answer. The Captain used his handkerchief again and said: + +“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.” + +“I thought so too,” I said. “It suits the house.” + +“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?” + +“It's a long time ago now, but I'm almost sure....” + +“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?” + +“Well ... yes, I sent back the yellow and got some white instead.” + +The Captain smiled, shook his head, and walked away. So I had been right +after all! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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?” + +“Yes,” I said. + +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: + +“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.” + +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. + +I was painting indoors one day when the Captain came in. + +“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.” + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“I've not seen it yet,” said Lars. “But it seems you've seen a lot. Of +all the silly goats....” + +But the end of it was that Lars gave way, Nils being head man there, and +went on ploughing till the Captain came home. + +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. + + + + +X + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“There must be something wrong,” he said. “That's not Fru Falkenberg, +surely? Is she married to him--the Captain, I mean?” + +“Why, yes, Grindhusen, the Captain's wife is married to the Captain. +What makes you ask?” + +“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.” + +“Not a bit of it, Grindhusen. But it might be her sister.” + +“But I'll stake my life on it. I saw her with him myself I don't know +how many times.” + +“Well, well, she may be his cousin as far as that goes, but what's it to +do with us?” + +“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?” + +“Was Fruen pleased, or did she look unhappy?” I asked. + +“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?” + +“Was she pleased, did you say?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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....” + +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. + + * * * * * + +All things in order now, the Captain and Fruen at home, bright days and +a rich harvest. What more could any wish for? + +Fruen greets me with a kindly glance, and says: + +“The place looks different altogether after the way you've painted it so +nicely. The Captain's ever so pleased.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Well, then, I can't make it out. But, anyhow, it's no matter; the +Captain himself decided to have it.” + +“The staircase is simply splendid, and so are the rooms upstairs. It's +twice as bright as before....” + +'Twas Fruen herself was trying to be twice as bright and + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +“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?” + +“No.” + +“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.” + +He handed me a knife, and I cut the badge away. + +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.” + +“But why?” + +“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.” + +“H'm! Don't the jasmines smell fine tonight?” + +“Yes. There's been a big difference with the barley and oats these last +few days. Getting on time for bed, though, now!” + +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. + +“You going to stay down here long?” he asked suddenly. + +“Yes, for a bit; why not? Oh, well, perhaps I'd better go up too.” + +Nils walked off a few paces, then came back again. + +“Better not stay here any longer,” he said. “Come along up here with +me.” + +“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. + +Had he found me out? But what was there to find out? + +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. + +“Not being inquisitive now, but what's the matter?” I asked. + +“Nothing,” said Nils. “The girls said you were down here, so I just came +along. Why, what else?” + +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! + +I resolved now to be cold and indifferent as ice henceforward all the +days of my life. + + * * * * * + +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. + +“I can't make it out about Fruen,” says Ragnhild. + +“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....” + +“Go and get on with the potatoes, Ragnhild,” said Nils quickly. “We've +no time for gossiping now.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“_Signe Arbejdet!_” [Footnote: “A blessing on the work.”] she says. + +“Thanks,” says the Captain. + +“That's what we used to say in Nordland.” + +“What?” + +“That's what we used to say in Nordland.” + +“Oh yes.” + +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. + +“Are the oats ripe?” she asks. + +“Yes, thank goodness!” + +“But not dry, I suppose?” + +“Eh? I can't hear what you say.” + +“Oh, I didn't say anything.” + +A long, uncomfortable silence after that. The Captain tries once or +twice with a good-humoured word, but gets no answer. + +“So you're out on a round of inspection,” he says jestingly. “Have you +seen how the potatoes are getting on?” + +“No,” she answers. “But I'll go over there, by all means, if you can't +bear the sight of me here.” + +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. + +Freun looked straight at me and said: + +“What are you scowling at?” + +“Scowling, eh?” says the Captain, joining in, with a forced laugh. + +Fruen takes him up on the instant. + +“Ah! you managed to hear that time!” + +“Really, Lovise....” + +Fruen's eyes dimmed suddenly; she stood a moment then ran, stooping +forward, round behind the frames, and sobbed. + +The Captain went over to her. “What is it, Lovise, tell me?” + +“Oh, nothing, nothing! Go away.” + +She was sick; we could hear it. And moaning and saying: “Heaven help +me!” + +“My wife's not very well just now,” says the Captain to me. “We can't +make out what it is.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Fruen made no answer. + +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. + +“Shall I see you back to the house?” asked the Captain. + +“No, thank you, I'd rather not,” she answered, walking away. + +The Captain stayed out and worked with us till evening. + + * * * * * + +So here was everything gone wrong again. Oh, but it was hard for them +both! + +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. + +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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + + + + +XI + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +We looked at one another. Ragnhild rose from the table; she must go +after her mistress, she said. + +“That's right,” said Nils, calm as ever. “But go indoors first and see +if she's moved those photographs.” + +“They're still there,” said Ragnhild as she went out. + +Outside, we heard the Captain telling her to go and look after her +mistress. + +There was no one but took thought for Fruen in her distress. + +We went out to the fields again. Said Nils to me: + +“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.” + +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. + +“I can't understand why the Captain hasn't taken and burnt them long +ago,” said I. + +“No, that's all wrong,” said Nils. “I wouldn't have done that either.” + +“Oh, indeed!” + +“It wouldn't be for me to do it, but for her.” + +We walked on a little. And then Nils said a thing that showed his sound +and right instinct. + +“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.” + +“Fruen seems to be taking it easy enough,” said I, still trying him. + +“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....” + +And at that I was no longer cold and wise, but foolish and ashamed, and +only said: + +“So it was that? She died, then?” + +“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.” + +And we went each our separate way. + +I thought to myself: a sister of his, perhaps, that had gone wrong, and +he'd been home and followed her to the grave. _Herregud!_ 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. + +Some association of ideas led me to think of my washing. I decided to +send the lad up for it. + + * * * * * + +It was evening. + +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. + +“But can you be away like this? Is there any one in your place in the +kitchen?” I asked. + +“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.” + +“Oh, that's only because he's a man.” + +“No, it's not.” + +“You'd much better side with Fruen.” + +“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....” + +“I don't want to hear any more,” I said. + +“But I haven't been listening outside--what are you thinking of? I was +there in the same room, and heard them.” + +“Did you? Well, well, stay here till you've calmed down a little; then +we'll go and find Nils.” + +And so frightened and tender was Ragnhild that she threw her arms round +me because I was kind to her. A strange girl! + +Then we went down to Nils. + +“Ragnhild thinks that somebody ought to keep awake for a bit,” I said. + +“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.” + +“And you know,” said Ragnhild suddenly, “she's going to have a child.” + +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: + +“Fruen was going to ring for you, you said?” + +“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. +_'The Nunnery,'_ 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....” + +Ragnhild smiled and shook her head; then she went on: + +“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!'” + +“And then you came away?” + +“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. _'Do_ 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!'” + +“And then I had to run,” Ragnhild concluded. + +Said Nils, after a while: “Have they gone to bed now?” + +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.” + +“You'd better go and see if there's anything you can do.” + +“Yes,” said Ragnhild, getting up. “But I side with the Captain after +all, and no mistake, whatever you say. Yes, that I do.” + +“It's none so easy to know what's right.” + +“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!” + + + + +XII + + +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. + +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. + +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--_fy Fan!_ Would you ever find the Captain doing +such a thing? + +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. + +It overtakes us all. + +Said the Captain: + +“That water-supply you spoke about--is it too late to do anything with +it this year?” + +“Yes,” I answered. + +The Captain nodded and walked away. + +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. + +“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?” + +“Grindhusen can help,” I said. “But....” + +“Yes, and Lars. What were you going to say?” + +“The frost may set in any day now.” + +“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?” + +“Yes.” + +“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.” + +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! + +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. + +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. + +Well and good. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +And I went up myself. + +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! + +“It was the last of my washing, anyhow,” I said. + +“Oh, you and your washing! As if I couldn't have brought along your +miserable shirt a hundred times since you've been here!” + +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. + +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. + +“Here's the other scarecrow coming up, too,” says Lars, “and he's a long +sight worse than you.” + +“What's that you say?” said Nils. + +“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. + +Nils stopped short at this, and came up to see what it was all about. + +“I don't know what you're talking about,” said he. + +“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.” + +But here Nils grew angry for once, and his cheeks paled. + +“What an utter fool you are, Lars! Can't you keep your mouth shut with +that nonsense?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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....” + +“Well, what then?” + +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.” + +“Like to feel my arm?” said Nils. + +“What's going on here?” asked the Captain, coming up. It was only six +o'clock, but he was out and about already. + +“Nothing,” said Lars and Nils as well. + +“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.” + +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. + +Grindhusen himself said openly: “Pity the Captain's going away.” + +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? + + * * * * * + +Trouble there was, often enough. + +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. + +It was pitiful to see. + +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. + +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: + +“You know I'm not well just now; you know I can't walk far like I used +to!” + +“S--sh, Lovise!” he would say, with a frown. And then the mischief was +there as bad as ever. + +“Oh, of course you must bring that up again!” + +“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.” + +“Oh, I wish I'd never come back at all! I was better off at home!” + +“Yes, or living with that puppy, I dare say.” + +“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.” + +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!” + +One day, when I was standing by the kitchen entrance, she said: + +“Do you remember the old days here--when you first came?” + +She had never once spoken of this till now, and I did not know what to +say. I stammered out: Yes, I remembered. + +“You drove me down to the Vicarage once,” she said. + +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. + +“Yes,” I said, “I remember. It was a glorious drive. But Fruen must have +found it cold towards the last.” + +“It was you that must have felt cold,” she answered. “You lent me your +own rug from the box. Oh, you poor thing!” + +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! + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“Well, well,” she said, “I hope you find yourself as comfortable now at +Øvrebø as before.” + +And she nodded and walked away. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +There I stood, with the card in my hand. Had she given it to me? Had I +taken it? + +“Your card,” I said. “Shall I....” + +She held out her hand without looking round, and walked on. + +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? + +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! + +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?” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + + + + +XIII + + +Fruen has ordered the carriage to drive her to the station. + +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. + +So she went away. Nils himself drove for her. + +They came back the same evening; they had turned back when half-way out. + +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. + +The carriage was ready, and Fruen came out. + +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. + +Then they drove off. It was a fine evening, and nice and cool for the +horses. + +“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.” + +“But she must have forgotten something, surely?” + +“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.” + +We walked across the courtyard together. + +“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.” + +“Was this on the way to the station?” + +“No, on the way back. She was quite excited, I thought.” + +“Perhaps the Captain sent for her?” + +Nils shook his head. “No. But perhaps--Lord knows. What was I going to +say--it's--tomorrow's Sunday, isn't it?” + +“Yes; what then?” + +“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.” + +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. + +It is Sunday. + +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. + +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? + +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? + +“Nervous, I expect,” said I. “Where's Nils?” + +“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.” + +“And where's Grindhusen?” + +“Changing the horses again. And Fruen's sitting there in the carriage +and won't get out. You go and speak to her.” + +“Oh, well, there's no great harm in her driving about a bit. Don't worry +about that.” + +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. + +She looked me calmly in the face. “No. What for?” she said. + +“Grindhusen might be a little done up, perhaps--I don't know....” + +“He promised to drive,” she said. “And he's not done up. Isn't he nearly +ready?” + +“I can't see him,” I answered. + +“Shut the door again, and tell him to come,” she commanded, wrapping +herself more closely as she spoke. + +I went over to the stables. Grindhusen was harnessing a fresh pair of +horses. + +“What's all this?” I asked. “Going off again, are you?” + +“Yes--that is, I thought so,” said Grindhusen, stopping for a moment as +if in doubt. + +“It looks queer. Where's Fruen going to, do you know?” + +“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....” + +Grindhusen goes on harnessing up. + +“Fruen said you were to make haste,” I said. + +“All right, I'm coming. But these girths are the very devil.” + +“Aren't you too tired to drive all that way again now?” + +“No. You know well enough I can manage it all right. And she's given me +good money, too. Extra.” + +“Did she, though?” + +“Ay, that she did. But she's a queer sort, is Fruen.” + +Then said I: “I don't think you ought to go off again now.” + +Grindhusen stopped short. “You think so? Well, now, I dare say you're +right.” + +Just then came Fruen's voice from outside--she had come right over to +the stable door. + +“Aren't you ready yet? How much longer am I to sit waiting?” + +“Ready this minute,” answered Grindhusen, and turned to again, busier +than ever. “It was only these girths.” + +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. + +I went over to the carriage again, politely, even humbly. I took off my +cap, and begged Fruen to give up this new journey. + +“You are not driving me!” she answered. + +“No. But if Fruen would only give it up and stay at home....” + +At this she was offended; she stared at me, looked me up and down, and +said: + +“Excuse me, but this is no business of yours. Because I got you +dismissed once....” + +“No, no, it's not that!” I cried desperately, and could say no more. +When she took it that way I was helpless. + +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: + +“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?” + +She softened at this, and sat thinking for a little. Then she said: + +“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.” + +“Oh!” + +“There you are. Now go. Is Grindhusen there?” + +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! + +“Yes, here he is,” I answered. There was no more to be said. + +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. + +“You are driving then, Grindhusen?” called Fruen from the carriage. + +“Me? Yes, surely,” he answered. + +Fruen pulled the door to with a bang, and the carriage drove off. + + * * * * * + +“Has she gone?” asked the maids, clasping their hands. + +“Gone--yes, of course. She's going to meet her husband.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Today, at last, I questioned Grindhusen about Fruen. + +“So you didn't bring Fruen back with you again this last time?” + +“No. She went off by train.” + +“Off to her husband, I suppose?” + +But Grindhusen has turned cautious with me; these two days past he has +said never a word, and now he only answers vaguely: + +“Ay, that would be it, no doubt. Ay, surely, yes. Why, you might reckon +that out yourself, she would. Her own husband and all....” + +“I thought perhaps she might have been going up to her own people at +Kristianssand.” + +“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.” + +“Did she tell you so?” + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Said Nils: + +“Didn't she leave a note or anything when she went?” + +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?” + +“No, no, Ragnhild! No!” + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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? + + * * * * * + +The Captain arrived. + +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. + +“Where's Fruen?” he asked. + +“Fruen went to meet Captain,” answered Ragnhild. “We thought she'd be +coming back now as well.” + +The Captain's head bowed forward a little. Then cautiously he began +questioning. + +“You mean she drove with Nils to the station? Stupid of me not to have +looked about while I was there!” + +“No,” said Ragnhild; “it was Sunday Fruen went.” + +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?” + +_“Værsaagod,_ it's already laid.” + +“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?” + +“They've finished it, I think.” + +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. + +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. + +“Splendid!” he said. “You fellows are quicker at your work than I am.” + +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: + +“I've sold the timber now.” + +“Captain's got a good price for it, maybe?” + +“Yes, a good price. But I've been all this time about it. You've been +quicker here.” + +“There are more of us here,” I said. “Four of us some times.” + +And at that he tried to jest. “Yes,” he said; “I know you're an +expensive man to have about the place!” + +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. + +I took up my spade and went up, thinking of his clothes. + +“Hadn't I better scrape the stone a bit clean?” + +“No, it doesn't matter,” he said. + +But he got up all the same, and let me clean it a little. + +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. + +“It's only a telegram!” she said breathlessly. “It came on by +messenger.” + +The Captain got up and strode quickly a few paces forward toward this +telegram that had come. Then he tore it open and read. + +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: + +“The carriage at once! I must go to the station!” + +Then he ran on again. + + * * * * * + +So the Captain went away again. He had only been home a few hours. + +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. + +“Accident,” it said. “Your wife.--Chief of Police.” What was all this? + +“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. + +“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.'” + +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. + +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! + +“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!” + +Miserable days! I worked away, harder than ever, but as a man in his +sleep, without interest or pleasure. Would the Captain never come? + +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. + +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. + +Ragnhild asked if he had seen Fruen alive. + +He looked at her and frowned. + +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. + +Then the Captain answered, but in a low voice as if to himself: + +“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.” + +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: + +“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.” + +Then Ragnhild spoke up well and with spirit--and may Heaven bless her +for the lie! + +“I? No, indeed, 'twas Fruen herself one day.” + +“Oh? Well, well. I only wondered how it was they had gone.” + +Relieved--relieved the Captain was to hear it. + +As he was leaving he told Ragnhild to say I was not to go away from +Øvrebø till he returned. + + + + +XIV + + +No, I didn't go away. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“Where are you going after this?” he asked me. + +“A long way, up in the hills, to Trovatn, to a forest.” + +He did not believe me in the least, but he answered quickly and +evasively: + +“Ay, I dare say, yes.” + +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. + +“We'll be turned off, both of us,” said Grindhusen. “When Captain comes, +eh?” + +“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.” + +“Well, talk to the Captain about it,” he said. + +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. + +But then there was myself. And I felt but little worth or use to myself +now, Heaven help me! + + * * * * * + +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.” + +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 _Brændevin_ +somewhere, and talked a great deal. But I was not altogether pleased at +meeting him. + +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. + +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.” + +“A few years' time and it'll be as thick as ever.” + +“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....” + +“Did you see the Captain down below? Had he come back yet?” I broke in. + +“He's just come back. Looked like a skeleton, he did. What was I going +to say?... When are you leaving?” + +“Tomorrow,” I said. + +“So soon?” Lars was all friendliness, and wishing me good luck now; he +had not thought I should be going off at once. + +“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.” + +“It's all very well for you, the way you've got on,” said I. + +Lars is friendlier than ever after this appreciation; he wishes me no +end of good, and goes on: + +“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.” + +“It's too late,” I answered. + +“Ay, you're terribly grey. I don't know who you could reckon to get now +about here. How old are you now?” + +“Don't ask me!” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +All friendliness he was now. But I had one or two things to do myself, +and would not go farther. + +“You won't see the Captain tonight, anyway.” + +No, but it was late. Emma would be in bed, and would only be a trouble. + +“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.” + +But I would not go up. I ventured, however, to send a greeting to Emma +this time. + +“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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +And that was farewell to Lars. + +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. + + * * * * * + +Next morning neither Grindhusen nor I went to the woods. Grindhusen was +uneasy. + +“Did you speak to the Captain about me?” he asked. + +“I haven't spoken to him.” + +“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.” + +“Why, what's this, Grindhusen? You seemed to like the Captain well +enough before.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“If only he doesn't take to drinking again,” I said to Nils. + +“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?” + +“No,” I answered. “I shall not come again now.” + +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: + +“Were you up in the woods yesterday? Is there snow enough for me to take +a sledge up for wood?” + +“Yes,” I answered. + +And he went off, relieved, to the stables, to harness up. + +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.” + +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: + +“But you won't come back here again now, I suppose?” + +I was taken by surprise. But I faced him squarely in return, and +answered: + +“No.” + +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. + +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. + +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: + +“Wait! I just thought--if you're going to the station, the lad could +drive you in.” + +Thoughtful and considerate again! But I thanked him and declined. I was +not so played out but that I could surely walk that way. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +But in the evening there is brave entertainment for all. Two +dancing-halls there are, and the music is supplied by masters on the +_hardingfele,_ 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. + +The dance goes on. + +In one of the intervals the schoolmaster sings touching verses about an + + “aged mother, worn with toil + And sweating as 'twere blood....” + +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, _pro_ and _contra,_ arguing and shouting. Never were verses +sung with more effect. + +The dance goes on. + +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. _Brændevin_ 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. _Finis._ +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. + +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. + +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. _Herregud!_ '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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +I question him: + +“That lady you told me about once--the one that was drowned--was it +somewhere about here?” + +“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.” + +“Dragging the channel?” + +“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.” + +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. + +The porter goes on: + +“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.” + +“Trying to cross to the other side, I suppose?” + +“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.” + +“And her husband came, you said. The Captain?” + +“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.” + +“So the Captain didn't see him, then?” + +“No. H'm! Nay, I don't know,” said the porter, looking around. “No, I +don't know anything about that--no.” + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +And Life can afford to waste. + +Mother and child it was that went down. + + + + +EPILOGUE + + +A wanderer plays with muted strings when he comes to fifty years. Then +he plays with muted strings. + +Or I might put it in this way. + +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. + +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! + +I might put it that way. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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; _vox populi._ 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! + +What pleasure can there be in that? _Ai_, Lars Falkenberg, and _ai,_ +every one else, have no fear; I have a man to come up with things I +need. + + * * * * * + +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. + +But I do not feel the want of books to read. + +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!” + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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 _my_ copper things I prefer to +do myself, Ragnhild. + +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. + +Woman--what do the sages know of woman? + +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. + +What does the sage know of woman? + +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. + +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. + +Heaven save me from growing wise! And I will mumble the same to my last +turn: Heaven save me from growing wise! + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Such are the things I tell of now, playing with muted strings. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Ten o'clock. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +Then the cave is darkened; it is the elk-hunter again with his dog. + +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. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wanderers, by Knut Hamsun + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WANDERERS *** + +***** This file should be named 7762-0.txt or 7762-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/7/6/7762/ + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Robert Connal and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + +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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