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diff --git a/8663-h/8663-h.htm b/8663-h/8663-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d702ac1 --- /dev/null +++ b/8663-h/8663-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6633 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + Tales of Two Countries, by Alexander Kielland + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales of Two Countries, by Alexander Kielland + +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: Tales of Two Countries + +Author: Alexander Kielland + +Commentator: H. H. Boyesen + +Translator: William Archer + +Release Date: August 10, 2009 [EBook #8663] +Last Updated: November 8, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF TWO COUNTRIES *** + + + + +Produced by Nicole Apostola, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + TALES OF TWO COUNTRIES + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Alexander Kielland + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated From The Norwegian By William Archer + </h3> + <h4> + With An Introduction By H. H. Boyesen + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> PHARAOH. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> THE PARSONAGE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THE PEAT MOOR. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> “HOPE’S CLAD IN APRIL GREEN.” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> AT THE FAIR. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> TWO FRIENDS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> A GOOD CONSCIENCE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> ROMANCE AND REALITY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> WITHERED LEAVES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION. + </h2> + <p> + In June, 1867, about a hundred enthusiastic youths were vociferously + celebrating the attainment of the baccalaureate degree at the University + of Norway. The orator on this occasion was a tall, handsome, + distinguished-looking young man named Alexander Kielland, from the little + coast-town of Stavanger. There was none of the crudity of a provincial + dither in his manners or his appearance. He spoke with a quiet + self-possession and a pithy incisiveness which were altogether phenomenal. + </p> + <p> + “That young man will be heard from one of these days,” was the unanimous + verdict of those who listened to his clear-cut and finished sentences, and + noted the maturity of his opinions. + </p> + <p> + But ten years passed, and outside of Stavanger no one ever heard of + Alexander Kielland. His friends were aware that he had studied law, spent + some winters in France, married, and settled himself as a dignitary in his + native town. It was understood that he had bought a large brick and tile + factory, and that, as a manufacturer of these useful articles, he bid fair + to become a provincial magnate, as his fathers had been before him. People + had almost forgotten that great things had been expected of him; and some + fancied, perhaps, that he had been spoiled by prosperity. Remembering him, + as I did, as the most brilliant and notable personality among my + university friends, I began to apply to him Malloch’s epigrammatic + damnation of the man of whom it was said at twenty that he would do great + things, at thirty that he might do great things, and at forty that he + might have done great things. + </p> + <p> + This was the frame of mind of those who remembered Alexander Kielland (and + he was an extremely difficult man to forget), when in the year 1879 a + modest volume of “novelettes” appeared, bearing his name. It was, to all + appearances, a light performance, but it revealed a sense of style which + made it, nevertheless, notable. No man had ever written the Norwegian + language as this man wrote it. There was a lightness of touch, a + perspicacity, an epigrammatic sparkle and occasional flashes of wit, which + seemed altogether un-Norwegian. It was obvious that this author was + familiar with the best French writers, and had acquired through them that + clear and crisp incisiveness of utterance which was supposed, hitherto, to + be untransferable to any other tongue. + </p> + <p> + As regards the themes of these “novelettes” (from which the present + collection is chiefly made up), it was remarked at the time of their first + appearance that they hinted at a more serious purpose than their style + seemed to imply. Who can read, for instance, “Pharaoh” (which in the + original is entitled “A Hall Mood”) without detecting the revolutionary + note which trembles quite audibly through the calm and unimpassioned + language? There is, by-the-way, a little touch of melodrama in this tale + which is very unusual with Kielland. “Romance and Reality,” too, is + glaringly at variance with the conventional romanticism in its satirical + contributing of the pre-matrimonial and the post-matrimonial view of love + and marriage. The same persistent tendency to present the wrong side as + well as the right side—and not, as literary good-manners are + supposed to prescribe, ignore the former—is obvious in the charming + tale “At the Fair,” where a little spice of wholesome truth spoils the + thoughtlessly festive mood; and the squalor, the want, the envy, hate, and + greed which prudence and a regard for business compel the performers to + disguise to the public, become the more cruelly visible to the visitors of + the little alley-way at the rear of the tents. In “A Good Conscience” the + satirical note has a still more serious ring; but the same admirable + self-restraint which, next to the power of thought and expression, is the + happiest gift an author’s fairy godmother can bestow upon him, saves + Kielland from saying too much—from enforcing his lesson by marginal + comments, <i>à la</i> George Eliot. But he must be obtuse, indeed, to whom + this reticence is not more eloquent and effective than a page of + philosophical moralizing. + </p> + <p> + “Hope’s Clad in April Green” and “The Battle of Waterloo” (the first and + the last tale in the Norwegian edition), are more untinged with a moral + tendency than any of the foregoing. The former is a mere <i>jeu d’esprit</i>, + full of good-natured satire on the calf-love of very young people, and the + amusing over-estimate of our importance to which we are all, at that age, + peculiarly liable. + </p> + <p> + As an organist with vaguely-melodious hints foreshadows in his prelude the + musical <i>motifs</i> which he means to vary and elaborate in his fugue, + so Kielland lightly touched in these “novelettes” the themes which in his + later works he has struck with a fuller volume and power. What he gave in + this little book was it light sketch of his mental physiognomy, from + which, perhaps, his horoscope might be cast and his literary future + predicted. + </p> + <p> + Though an aristocrat by birth and training, he revealed a strong sympathy + with the toiling masses. But it was a democracy of the brain, I should + fancy, rather than of the heart. As I read the book, twelve years ago, its + tendency puzzled me considerably, remembering, as I did, with the greatest + vividness, the fastidious and elegant personality of the author. I found + it difficult to believe that he was in earnest. The book seemed to me to + betray the whimsical <i>sans-culottism</i> of a man of pleasure who, when + the ball is at an end, sits down with his gloves on and philosophizes on + the artificiality of civilization and the wholesomeness of honest toil. An + indigestion makes him a temporary communist; but a bottle of seltzer + presently reconciles him to his lot, and restores the equilibrium of the + universe. He loves the people at a distance, can talk prettily about the + sturdy son of the soil, who is the core and marrow of the nation, etc.; + but he avoids contact with him, and, if chance brings them into contact, + he loves him with his handkerchief to his nose. + </p> + <p> + I may be pardoned for having identified Alexander Kielland with this type + with which I am very familiar; and he convinced me, presently, that I had + done him injustice. In his next book, the admirable novel <i>Garman and + Worse</i>, he showed that his democratic proclivities were something more + than a mood. He showed that he took himself seriously, and he compelled + the public to take him seriously. The tendency which had only flashed + forth here and there in the “novelettes” now revealed its whole + countenance. The author’s theme was the life of the prosperous bourgeoisie + in the western coast-towns; he drew their types with a hand that gave + evidence of intimate knowledge. He had himself sprung from one of these + rich ship-owning, patrician families, had been given every opportunity to + study life both at home and abroad, and had accumulated a fund of + knowledge of the world, which he had allowed quietly to grow before making + literary drafts upon it. The same Gallic perspicacity of style which had + charmed in his first book was here in a heightened degree; and there was, + besides, the same underlying sympathy with progress and what is called the + ideas of the age. What mastery of description, what rich and vigorous + colors Kielland had at his disposal was demonstrated in such scenes as the + funeral of Consul Garman and the burning of the ship. There was, moreover, + a delightful autobiographical note in the book, particularly in boyish + experiences of Gabriel Garman. Such things no man invents, however clever; + such material no imagination supplies, however fertile. Except Fritz + Reuter’s Stavenhagen, I know no small town in fiction which is so vividly + and completely individualized, and populated with such living and credible + characters. Take, for instance, the two clergymen, Archdeacon Sparre and + the Rev. Mr. Martens, and it is not necessary to have lived in Norway in + order to recognize and enjoy the faithfulness and the artistic subtlety of + these portraits. If they have a dash of satire (which I will not undertake + to deny), it is such delicate and well-bred satire that no one, except the + originals, would think of taking offence. People are willing, for the sake + of the entertainment which it affords, to forgive a little quiet malice at + their neighbors’ expense. The members of the provincial bureaucracy are + drawn with the same firm but delicate touch, and everything has that + beautiful air of reality which proves the world akin. + </p> + <p> + It was by no means a departure from his previous style and tendency which + Kielland signalized in his next novel, <i>Laboring People</i> (1881). He + only emphasizes, as it were, the heavy, serious bass chords in the + composite theme which expresses his complex personality, and allows the + lighter treble notes to be momentarily drowned. Superficially speaking, + there is perhaps a reminiscence of Zola in this book, not in the manner of + treatment, but in the subject, which is the corrupting influence of the + higher classes upon the lower. There is no denying that in spite of the + ability, which it betrays in every line, <i>Laboring People</i> is + unpleasant reading. It frightened away a host of the author’s early + admirers by the uncompromising vigor and the glaring realism with which it + depicted the consequences of vicious indulgence. It showed no + consideration for delicate nerves, but was for all that a clean and + wholesome book. + </p> + <p> + Kielland’s third novel, <i>Skipper Worse</i>, marked a distinct step in + his development. It was less of a social satire and more of a social + study. It was not merely a series of brilliant, exquisitely-finished + scenes, loosely strung together on a slender thread of narrative, but it + was a concise, and well constructed story, full of beautiful scenes and + admirable portraits. The theme is akin to that of Daudet’s <i>L’Evangéliste</i>; + but Kielland, as it appears to me, has in this instance outdone his French + <i>confrère</i> as regards insight into the peculiar character and poetry + of the pietistic movement. He has dealt with it as a psychological and not + primarily as a pathological phenomenon. A comparison with Daudet suggests + itself constantly in reading Kielland. Their methods of workmanship and + their attitude towards life have many points in common. The charm of + style, the delicacy of touch and felicity of phrase, is in both cases + pre-eminent. Daudet has, however, the advantage (or, as he himself + asserts, the disadvantage) of working in a flexible and highly-finished + language, which bears the impress of the labors of a hundred masters; + while Kielland has to produce his effects of style in a poorer and less + pliable language, which often pants and groans in its efforts to render a + subtle thought. To have polished this tongue and sharpened its capacity + for refined and incisive utterance is one—and not the least—of + his merits. + </p> + <p> + Though he has by nature no more sympathy with the pietistic movement than + Daudet, Kielland yet manages to get, psychologically, closer to his + problem. His pietists are more humanly interesting than those of Daudet, + and the little drama which they set in motion is more genuinely pathetic. + Two superb figures—the lay preacher, Hans Nilsen, and Skipper Worse—surpass + all that the author had hitherto produced, in depth of conception and + brilliancy of execution. The marriage of that delightful, profane old + sea-dog Jacob Worse, with the pious Sara Torvested, and the attempts of + his mother-in-law to convert him, are described, not with the merely + superficial drollery to which the subject invites, but with a sweet and + delicate humor, which trembles on the verge of pathos. + </p> + <p> + The beautiful story <i>Elsie</i>, which, though published separately, is + scarcely a full-grown novel, is intended to impress society with a sense + of responsibility for its outcasts. While Björnstjerne Björnson is fond of + emphasizing the responsibility of the individual to society, Kielland + chooses by preference to reverse the relation. The former (in his + remarkable novel <i>Flags are Flying in City and Harbor</i>) selects a + hero with vicious inherited tendencies, redeemed by wise education and + favorable environment; the latter portrays in Elsie a heroine with no + corrupt predisposition, destroyed by the corrupting environment which + society forces upon those who are born in her circumstances. Elsie could + not be good, because the world is so constituted that girls of her kind + are not expected to be good. Temptations, perpetually thronging in her + way, break down the moral bulwarks of her nature. Resistance seems in + vain. In the end there is scarcely one who, having read her story, will + have the heart to condemn her. + </p> + <p> + Incomparably clever is the satire on the benevolent societies, which + appear to exist as a sort of moral poultice to tender consciences, and to + furnish an officious sense of virtue to its prosperous members. “The + Society for the Redemption of the Abandoned Women of St. Peter’s Parish” + is presided over by a gentleman who privately furnishes subjects for his + public benevolence. However, as his private activity is not bounded by the + precincts of St. Peter’s Parish, within which the society confines its + remedial labors, the miserable creatures who might need its aid are sent + away uncomforted. The delicious joke of the thing is that “St. Peter’s” is + a rich and exclusive parish, consisting of what is called “the better + classes,” and has no “abandoned women.” Whatever wickedness there may be + in St. Peter’s is discreetly veiled, and makes no claim upon public + charity. The virtuous horror of the secretary when she hears that the + “abandoned woman” who calls upon her for aid has a child, though she is + unmarried, is both comic and pathetic. It is the clean, “deserving poor,” + who understand the art of hypocritical humility—it is these whom the + society seeks in vain in St. Peter’s Parish. + </p> + <p> + Still another problem of the most vital consequence Kielland has attacked + in his two novels, <i>Poison</i> and <i>Fortuna</i> (1884). It is, broadly + stated, the problem of education. The hero in both books is Abraham + Lövdahl, a well-endowed, healthy, and altogether promising boy who, by the + approved modern educational process, is mentally and morally crippled, and + the germs of what is great and good in him are systematically smothered by + that disrespect for individuality and insistence upon uniformity, which + are the curses of a small society. The revolutionary discontent which + vibrates in the deepest depth of Kielland’s nature; the profound and + uncompromising radicalism which smoulders under his polished exterior; the + philosophical pessimism which relentlessly condemns all the flimsy and + superficial reformatory movements of the day, have found expression in the + history of the childhood, youth, and manhood of Abraham Lvdahl. In the + first place, it is worthy of note that to Kielland the knowledge which is + offered in the guise of intellectual nourishment is poison. It is the dry + and dusty accumulation of antiquarian lore, which has little or no + application to modern life—it is this which the young man of the + higher classes is required to assimilate. Apropos of this, let me quote + Dr. G. Brandes, who has summed up the tendency of these two novels with + great felicity: + </p> + <p> + “The author has surveyed the generation to which he himself belongs, and + after having scanned these wide domains of emasculation, these prairies of + spiritual sterility, these vast plains of servility and irresolution, he + has addressed to himself the questions: How does a whole generation become + such? How was it possible to nip in the bud all that was fertile and + eminent? And he has painted a picture of the history of the development of + the present generation in the home-life and school-life of Abraham + Lövdahl, in order to show from what kind of parentage those most + fortunately situated and best endowed have sprung, and what kind of + education they received at home and in the school. This is, indeed, a + simple and an excellent theme. + </p> + <p> + “We first see the child led about upon the wide and withered common of + knowledge, with the same sort of meagre fodder for all; we see it trained + in mechanical memorizing, in barren knowledge concerning things and forms + that are dead and gone; in ignorance concerning the life that is, in + contempt for it, and in the consciousness of its privileged position, by + dint of its possession of this doubtful culture. We see pride + strengthened; the healthy curiosity, the desire to ask questions, killed.” + </p> + <p> + We are apt to console ourselves on this side of the ocean with the idea + that these social problems appertain only to the effete monarchies of + Europe, and have no application with us. But, though I readily admit that + the keenest point of this satire is directed against the small States + which, by the tyranny of the dominant mediocrity, cripple much that is + good and great by denying it the conditions of growth and development, + there is yet a deep and abiding lesson in these two novels which applies + to modern civilization in general, exposing glaring defects which are no + less prevalent here than in the Old World. + </p> + <p> + Besides being the author of some minor comedies and a full-grown drama + (“The Professor”), Kielland has published two more novels, <i>St. John’s + Eve</i> (1887) and <i>Snow</i>. The latter is particularly directed + against the orthodox Lutheran clergy, of which the Rev. Daniel Jürges is + an excellent specimen. He is, in my opinion, not in the least caricatured; + but portrayed with a conscientious desire to do justice to his sincerity. + Mr. Jürges is a worthy type of the Norwegian country pope, proud and + secure in the feeling of his divine authority, passionately hostile to + “the age,” because he believes it to be hostile to Christ; intolerant of + dissent; a guide and ruler of men, a shepherd of the people. The only + trouble in Norway, as elsewhere, is that the people will no longer consent + to be shepherded. They refuse to be guided and ruled. They rebel against + spiritual and secular authority, and follow no longer the bell-wether with + the timid gregariousness of servility and irresolution. To bring the new + age into the parsonage of the reverend obscurantist in the shape of a + young girl—the <i>fiancée</i> of the pastor’s son—was an + interesting experiment which gives occasion for strong scenes and, at + last, for a drawn battle between the old and the new. The new, though not + acknowledging itself to be beaten, takes to its heels, and flees in the + stormy night through wind and snow. But the snow is moist and heavy; it is + beginning to thaw. There is a vague presentiment of spring in the air. + </p> + <p> + This note of promise and suspense with which the book ends is meant to be + symbolic. From Kielland’s point of view, Norway is yet wrapped in the + wintry winding-sheet of a tyrannical orthodoxy; and all that he dares + assert is that the chains of frost and snow seem to be loosening. There is + a spring feeling in the air. + </p> + <p> + This spring feeling is, however, scarcely perceptible in his last book, <i>Jacob</i>, + which is written in anything but a hopeful mood. It is, rather, a protest + against that optimism which in fiction we call poetic justice. The harsh + and unsentimental logic of reality is emphasized with a ruthless disregard + of rose-colored traditions. The peasant lad Wold, who, like all Norse + peasants, has been brought up on the Bible, has become deeply impressed + with the story of Jacob, and God’s persistent partisanship for him, in + spite of his dishonesty and tricky behavior. The story becomes, half + unconsciously, the basis of his philosophy of life, and he undertakes to + model his career on that of the Biblical hero. He accordingly cheats and + steals with a clever moderation, and in a cautious and circumspect manner + which defies detection. Step by step he rises in the regard of his + fellow-citizens; crushes, with long-headed calculation or with brutal + promptness (as it may suit his purpose) all those who stand in his way, + and arrives at last at the goal of his desires. He becomes a local + magnate, a member of parliament, where he poses as a defender of the + simple, old-fashioned orthodoxy, is decorated by the King, and is an + object of the envious admiration of his fellow townsmen. + </p> + <p> + From the pedagogic point of view, I have no doubt that <i>Jacob</i> would + be classed as an immoral book. But the question of its morality is of less + consequence than the question as to its truth. The most modern literature, + which is interpenetrated with the spirit of the age, has a way of asking + dangerous questions—questions before which the reader, when he + perceives their full scope, stands aghast. Our old idyllic faith in the + goodness and wisdom of all mundane arrangements has undoubtedly received a + shock from which it will never recover. Our attitude towards the universe + is changing with the change of its attitude towards us. What the thinking + part of humanity is now largely engaged in doing is to readjust itself + towards the world and the world towards it. Success is but a complete + adaptation to environment; and success is the supreme aim of the modern + man. The authors who, by their fearless thinking and speaking, help us + towards this readjustment should, in my opinion, whether we choose to + accept their conclusions or not, be hailed as benefactors. It is in the + ranks of these that Alexander Kielland has taken his place, and now + occupies a conspicuous position. + </p> + <p> + HJALMAR HJORTH BOYESEN. + </p> + <p> + NEW YORK, May 15, 1891. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + PHARAOH. + </h2> + <p> + She had mounted the shining marble steps with without mishap, without + labor, sustained by her great beauty and her fine nature alone. She had + taken her place in the salons of the rich and great without laying for her + admittance with her honor or her good name. Yet no one could say whence + she came, though people whispered that it was from the depths. + </p> + <p> + As a waif of a Parisian faubourg, she had starved through her childhood + among surroundings of vice and poverty, such as those only can conceive + who know them by experience. Those of us who get our knowledge from books + and from hearsay have to strain our imagination in order to form an idea + of the hereditary misery of a great city, and yet our most terrible + imaginings are apt to pale before the reality. + </p> + <p> + It had been only a question of time when vice should get its clutches upon + her, as a cog-wheel seizes whoever comes too near the machine. After + whirling her around through a short life of shame and degradation, it + would, with mechanical punctuality, have cast her off into some corner, + there to drag out to the end, in sordid obscurity, her caricature of an + existence. + </p> + <p> + But it happened, as it does sometimes happen, that she was “discovered” by + a man of wealth and position, one day when, a child of fourteen, she + happened to cross one of the better streets. She was on her way to a dark + back room in the Rue des Quatre Vents, where she worked with a woman who + made artificial flowers. + </p> + <p> + It was not only her extraordinary beauty that attracted her patron; her + movements, her whole bearing, and the expression of her half-formed + features, all seemed to him to show that here was an originally fine + nature struggling against incipient corruption. Moved by one of the + incalculable whims of the very wealthy, he determined to try to rescue the + unhappy child. + </p> + <p> + It was not difficult to obtain control of her, as she belonged to no one. + He gave her a name, and placed her in one of the best convent schools. + Before long her benefactor had the satisfaction of observing that the + seeds of evil died away and disappeared. She developed an amiable, rather + indolent character, correct and quiet manners, and a rare beauty. + </p> + <p> + When she grew up he married her. Their married life was peaceful and + pleasant; in spite of the great difference in their ages, he had unbounded + confidence in her, and she deserved it. + </p> + <p> + Married people do not live in such close communion in France as they do + with us; so that their claims upon each other are not so great, and their + disappointments are less bitter. + </p> + <p> + She was not happy, but contented. Her character lent itself to gratitude. + She did not feel the tedium of wealth; on the contrary, she often took an + almost childish pleasure in it. But no one could guess that, for her + bearing was always full of dignity and repose. People suspected that there + was something questionable about her origin, but as no one could answer + questions they left off asking them. One has so much else to think of in + Paris. + </p> + <p> + She had forgotten her past. She had forgotten it just as we have forgotten + the roses, the ribbons, and faded letters of our youth—because we + never think about them. They lie locked up in a drawer which we never + open. And yet, if we happen now and again to cast a glance into this + secret drawer, we at once notice if a single one of the roses, or the + least bit of ribbon, is wanting. For we remember them all to a nicety; the + memories are ran fresh as ever—as sweet as ever, and as bitter. + </p> + <p> + It was thus she had forgotten her past—locked it up and thrown away + the key. + </p> + <p> + But at night she sometimes dreamed frightful things. She could once more + feel the old witch with whom she lived shaking her by the shoulder, and + driving her out in the cold mornings to work at her artificial flowers. + </p> + <p> + Then she would jump up in her bed, and stare out into the darkness in the + most deadly fear. But presently she would touch the silk coverlet and the + soft pillows; her fingers would follow the rich carvings of her luxurious + bed; and while sleepy little child-angels slowly drew aside the heavy + dream-curtain, she tasted in deep draughts the peculiar, indescribable + well-being we feel when we discover that an evil and horrible dream was a + dream and nothing more. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Leaning back among the soft cushions, she drove to the great ball at the + Russian ambassador’s. The nearer they got to their destination the slower + became the pace, until the carriage reached the regular queue, where it + dragged on at a foot-pace. + </p> + <p> + In the wide square in front of the hôtel, brilliantly lighted with torches + and with gas, a great crowd of people had gathered. Not only passers-by + who had stopped to look on, but more especially workmen, loafers, poor + women, and ladies of questionable appearance, stood in serried ranks on + both sides of the row of carriages. Humorous remarks and coarse witticisms + in the vulgarest Parisian dialect hailed down upon the passing carriages + and their occupants. + </p> + <p> + She heard words which she had not heard for many years, and she blushed at + the thought that she was perhaps the only one in this whole long line of + carriages who understood these low expressions of the dregs of Paris. + </p> + <p> + She began to look at the faces around her: it seemed to her as if she knew + them all. She knew what they thought, what was passing in each of these + tightly-packed heads; and little by little a host of memories streamed in + upon her. She fought against them as well as she could, but she was not + herself this evening. + </p> + <p> + She had not, then, lost the key to the secret drawer; reluctantly she drew + it out, and the memories overpowered her. + </p> + <p> + She remembered how often she herself, still almost a child, had devoured + with greedy eyes the fine ladies who drove in splendor to balls or + theatres; how often she had cried in bitter envy over the flowers she + laboriously pieced together to make others beautiful. Here she saw the + same greedy eyes, the same inextinguishable, savage envy. + </p> + <p> + And the dark, earnest men who scanned the equipages with + half-contemptuous, half-threatening looks—she knew them all. + </p> + <p> + Had not she herself, as a little girl, lain in a corner and listened, + wide-eyed, to their talk about the injustice of life, the tyranny of the + rich, and the rights of the laborer, which he had only to reach out his + hand to seize? + </p> + <p> + She knew that they hated everything—the sleek horses, the dignified + coachmen, the shining carriages, and, most of all, the people who sat + within them—these insatiable vampires, these ladies, whose ornaments + for the night cost more gold than any one of them could earn by the work + of a whole lifetime. + </p> + <p> + And as she looked along the line of carriages, as it dragged on slowly + through the crowd, another memory flashed into her mind—a + half-forgotten picture from her school-life in the convent. + </p> + <p> + She suddenly came to think of the story of Pharaoh and his war-chariots + following the children of Israel through the Red Sea. She saw the waves, + which she had always imagined red as blood, piled up like a wall on both + sides of the Egyptians. + </p> + <p> + Then the voice of Moses sounded. He stretched out his staff over the + waters, and the Red Sea waves hurtled together and swallowed up Pharaoh + and all his chariots. + </p> + <p> + She knew that the wall which stood on each side of her was wilder and more + rapacious than the waves of the sea; she knew that it needed only a voice, + a Moses, to set all this human sea in motion, hurling it irresistibly + onward until it should sweep away all the glory of wealth and greatness in + its blood-red waves. + </p> + <p> + Her heart throbbed, and she crouched trembling into the corner of the + carriage. But it was not with fear; it was so that those without should + not see her—for she was ashamed to meet their eyes. + </p> + <p> + For the first time in her life, her good-fortune appeared to her in the + light of an injustice, a thing to blush for. + </p> + <p> + Was she in her right place, in this soft-cushioned carriage, among these + tyrants and blood-suckers? Should she not rather be out there in the + billowing mass, among the children of hate? + </p> + <p> + Half-forgotten thoughts and feelings thrust up their heads like beasts of + prey which have long lain bound. She felt strange and homeless in her + glittering life, and thought with a sort of demoniac longing of the + horrible places from which she had risen. + </p> + <p> + She seized her rich lace shawl; there came over her a wild desire to + destroy, to tear something to pieces; but at this moment the carriage + turned into the gate-way of the hôtel. + </p> + <p> + The footman tore open the door, and with her gracious smile, her air of + quiet, aristocratic distinction, she alighted. + </p> + <p> + A young attaché rushed forward, and was happy when she took his arm, still + more enraptured when he thought he noticed an unusual gleam in her eyes, + and in the seventh heaven when he felt her arm tremble. + </p> + <p> + Full of pride and hope, he led her with sedulous politeness up the shining + marble steps. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “‘Tell me, <i>belle dame</i>, what good fairy endowed you in your cradle + with the marvellous gift of transforming everything you touch into + something new and strange. The very flower in your hair has a charm, as + though it were wet with the fresh morning dew. And when you dance it seems + as though the floor swayed and undulated to the rhythm of your footsteps.” + </p> + <p> + The Count was himself quite astonished at this long and felicitous + compliment, for as a rule he did not find it easy to express himself + coherently. He expected, too, that his beautiful partner would show her + appreciation of his effort. + </p> + <p> + But he was disappointed. She leaned over the balcony, where they were + enjoying the cool evening air after the dance, and gazed out over the + crowd and the still-advancing carriages. She seemed not to have understood + the Count’s great achievement; at least he could only hear her whisper the + inexplicable word, “Pharaoh.” + </p> + <p> + He was on the point of remonstrating with her, when she turned round, made + a step towards the salon, stopped right in front of him, and looked him in + the face with great, wonderful eyes, such as the Count had never seen + before. + </p> + <p> + “I scarcely think, Monsieur le Comte, that any good fairy—perhaps + not even a cradle—was present at my birth. But in what you say of my + flowers and my dancing your penetration has led you to a great discovery. + I will tell you the secret of the fresh morning dew which lies on the + flowers. It is the tears, Monsieur le Comte, which envy and shame, + disappointment and remorse, have wept over them. And if you seem to feel + the floor swaying as we dance, that is because it trembles under the + hatred of millions.” + </p> + <p> + She had spoken with her customary repose, and with a friendly bow she + disappeared into the salon. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The Count remained rooted to the spot. He cast a glance over the crowd + outside. It was a right he had often seen, and he had made sundry snore or + less trivial witticisms about the “many-headed monster.” But to-night it + struck him for the first time that this monster was, after all, the most + unpleasant neighbor for a palace one could possibly imagine. + </p> + <p> + Strange and disturbing thoughts whirled in the brain of Monsieur le Comte, + where they found plenty of space to gyrate. He was entirely thrown off his + balance, and it was not till after the next polka that his placidity + returned. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PARSONAGE. + </h2> + <p> + It seemed as though the spring would never come. All through April the + north wind blew and the nights were frosty. In the middle of the day the + sun shone so warmly that a few big flies began to buzz around, and the + lark proclaimed, on its word of honor, that it was the height of summer. + </p> + <p> + But the lark is the most untrustworthy creature under heaven. However much + it might freeze at night, the frost was forgotten at the first sunbeam; + and the lark soared, singing, high over the heath, until it bethought + itself that it was hungry. + </p> + <p> + Then it sank slowly down in wide circles, singing, and beating time to its + song with the flickering of its wings. But a little way from the earth it + folded its wings and dropped like a stone down into the heather. + </p> + <p> + The lapwing tripped with short steps among the hillocks, and nodded its + head discreetly. It had no great faith in the lark, and repeated its wary + “Bi litt! Bi litt!” [Note: “Wait a bit! Wait a bit!” Pronounced <i>Bee + leet</i>] A couple of mallards lay snuggling in a marsh-hole, and the + elder one was of opinion that spring would not come until we had rain. + </p> + <p> + Far on into May the meadows were still yellow; only here and there on the + sunny leas was there any appearance of green. But if you lay down upon the + earth you could see a multitude of little shoots—some thick, others + as thin as green darning-needles—which thrust their heads cautiously + up through the mould. But the north wind swept so coldly over them that + they turned yellow at the tips, and looked as if they would like to creep + back again. + </p> + <p> + But that they could not do; so they stood still and waited, only sprouting + ever so little in the midday sun. + </p> + <p> + The mallard was right; it was rain they wanted. And at last it came—cold + in the beginning, but gradually warmer; and when it was over the sun came + out in earnest. And now you would scarcely have known it again; it shone + warmly, right from the early morning till the late evening, so that the + nights were mild and moist. + </p> + <p> + Then an immense activity set in; everything was behindhand, and had to + make up for lost time. The petals burst from the full buds with a little + crack, and all the big and little shoots made a sudden rush. They darted + out stalks, now to the one side, now to the other, as quickly as though + they lay kicking with green legs. The meadows were spangled with flowers + and weeds, and the heather slopes towards the sea began to light up. + </p> + <p> + Only the yellow sand along the shore remained as it was; it has no flowers + to deck itself with, and lyme-grass is all its finery. Therefore it piles + itself up into great mounds, seen far and wide along the shore, on which + the long soft stems sway like a green banner. + </p> + <p> + There the sand-pipers ran about so fast that their legs looked like a + piece of a tooth comb. The sea-gulls walked on the beach, where the waves + could sweep over their legs. They held themselves sedately, their heads + depressed and their crops protruded, like old ladies in muddy weather. + </p> + <p> + The sea-pie stood with his heels together, in his tight trousers, his + black swallow-tail, and his white waistcoat. + </p> + <p> + “Til By’n! Til By’n!” he cried [Note: “To Town! To Town!”], and at each + cry he made a quick little bow, so that his coat tails whisked up behind + him. + </p> + <p> + Up in the heather the lapwing flew about flapping her wings. The spring + had overtaken her so suddenly that she had not had time to find a proper + place for her nest. She had laid her eggs right in the middle of a + flat-topped mound. It was all wrong, she knew that quite well; but it + could not be helped now. + </p> + <p> + The lark laughed at it all; but the sparrows were all in a hurry-scurry. + They were not nearly ready. Some had not even a nest; others had laid an + egg or two; but the majority had sat on the cow-house roof, week out, week + in, chattering about the almanac. + </p> + <p> + Now they were in such a fidget they did not know where to begin. They held + a meeting in a great rose-bush, beside the Pastor’s garden-fence, all + cackling and screaming together. The cock-sparrows ruffled themselves up, + so that all their feathers stood straight on end; and then they perked + their tails up slanting in the air, so that they looked like little gray + balls with a pin stuck in them. So they trundled down the branches and + ricochetted away over the meadow. + </p> + <p> + All of a sudden, two dashed against each other. The rest rushed up, and + all the little balls wound themselves into one big one. It rolled forward + from under the bush, rose with a great hubbub a little way into the air, + then fell in one mass to the earth and went to pieces. And then, without + uttering a sound, each of the little balls suddenly went his way, and a + moment afterwards there was not a sparrow to be seen about the whole + Parsonage. + </p> + <p> + Little Ansgarius had watched the battle of the sparrows with lively + interest. For, in his eyes, it was a great engagement, with charges and + cavalry skirmishes. He was reading <i>Universal History</i> and the <i>History + of Norway</i> with his father, and therefore everything that happened + about the house assumed a martial aspect in one way or another. When the + cows came home in the evening, they ware great columns of infantry + advancing; the hens were the volunteer forces, and the cock was + Burgomaster Nansen. + </p> + <p> + Ansgarius was a clever boy, who had all his dates at his fingers’ ends; + but he had no idea of the meaning of time. Accordingly, he jumbled + together Napoleon and Eric Blood-Axe and Tiberius; and on the ships which + he saw sailing by in the offing he imagined Tordenskiold doing battle, now + with Vikings, and now with the Spanish Armada. + </p> + <p> + In a secret den behind the summer-house he kept a red broom-stick, which + was called Bucephalus. It was his delight to prance about the garden with + his steed between his legs, and a flowerstick in his hand. + </p> + <p> + A little way from the garden there was a hillock with a few small trees + upon it. Here he could lie in ambush and keep watch far and wide over the + heathery levels and the open sea. + </p> + <p> + He never failed to descry one danger or another drawing near; either + suspicious-looking boats on the beach, or great squadrons of cavalry + advancing so cunningly that they looked like nothing but a single horse. + But Ansgarius saw through their stealthy tactics; he wheeled Bucephalus + about, tore down from the mound and through the garden, and dashed at a + gallop into the farm-yard. The hens shrieked as if their last hour had + come, and Burgomaster Nansen flew right against the Pastor’s study window. + </p> + <p> + The Pastor hurried to the window, and just caught sight of Bucephalus’s + tail as the hero dashed round the corner of the cow-house, where he + proposed to place himself in a posture of defence. + </p> + <p> + “That boy is deplorably wild,” thought the Pastor. He did not at all like + all these martial proclivities. Ansgarius was to be a man of peace, like + the Pastor himself; and it was a positive pain to him to see how easily + the boy learned and assimilated everything that had to do with war and + fighting. + </p> + <p> + The Pastor would try now and then to depict the peaceful life of the + ancients or of foreign nations. But he made little impression. Ansgarius + pinned his faith to what he found in his book; and there it was nothing + but war after war. The people were all soldiers, the heroes waded in + blood; and it was fruitless labor for the Pastor to try to awaken the boy + to any sympathy with those whose blood they waded in. + </p> + <p> + It would occur to the Pastor now and again that it might, perhaps, have + been better to have filled the young head from the first with more + peaceful ideas and images than the wars of rapacious monarchs or the + murders and massacres of our forefathers. But then he remembered that he + himself had gone through the same course in his boyhood, so that it must + be all right. Ansgarius would be a man of peace none the less—and if + not! “Well, everything is in the hand of Providence,” said the Pastor + confidingly, and set to work again at his sermon. + </p> + <p> + “You’re quite forgetting your lunch to-day, father,” said a blond head in + the door-way. + </p> + <p> + “Why, so I am, Rebecca; I’m a whole hour too late,” answered the father, + and went at once into the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + The father and daughter sat down at the luncheon-table. Ansgarius was + always his own master on Saturdays, when the Pastor was taken up with his + sermon. + </p> + <p> + You would not easily have found two people who suited each other better, + or who lived on terms of more intimate friendship, than the Pastor and his + eighteen-year-old daughter. She had been motherless from childhood; but + there was so much that was womanly in her gentle, even-tempered father, + that the young girl, who remembered her mother only as a pale face that + smiled on her, felt the loss rather as a peaceful sorrow than as a bitter + pain. + </p> + <p> + And for him she came to fill up more and more, as she ripened, the void + that had been left in his soul; and all the tenderness, which at his + wife’s death had been so clouded in sorrow and longing, now gathered + around the young woman who grew up under his eyes; so that his sorrow was + assuaged and peace descended upon his mind. + </p> + <p> + Therefore he was able to be almost like a mother to her. He taught her to + look upon the world with his own pure, untroubled eyes. It became the + better part of his aim in life to hedge her around and protect her fragile + and delicate nature from all the soilures and perturbations which make the + world so perplexing, so difficult, and so dangerous an abiding-place. + </p> + <p> + When they stood together on the hill beside the Parsonage, gazing forth + over the surging sea, he would say: “Look, Rebecca! yonder is an image of + life—of that life in which the children of this world are tossed to + and fro; in which impure passions rock the frail skiff about, to litter + the shore at last with its shattered fragments. He only can defy the storm + who builds strong bulwarks around a pure heart—at his feet the waves + break powerlessly.” + </p> + <p> + Rebecca clung to her father; she felt so safe by his side. There was such + a radiance over all he said, that when she thought of the future she + seemed to see the path before her bathed in light. For all her questions + he had an answer; nothing was too lofty for him, nothing too lowly. They + exchanged ideas without the least constraint, almost like brother and + sister. + </p> + <p> + And yet one point remained dark between them. On all other matters she + would question her father directly; here she had to go indirectly to work, + to get round something which she could never get over. + </p> + <p> + She knew her father’s great sorrow; she knew what happiness he had enjoyed + and lost. She followed with the warmest sympathy the varying fortunes of + the lovers in the books she read aloud during the winter evenings; her + heart understood that love, which brings the highest joy, may also cause + the deepest sorrow. But apart from the sorrows of ill-starred love, she + caught glimpses of something else—a terrible something which she did + not understand. Dark forms would now and then appear to her, gliding + through the paradise of love, disgraced and abject. The sacred name of + love was linked with the direst shame and the deepest misery. Among people + whom she knew, things happened from time to time which she dared not think + about; and when, in stern but guarded words, her father chanced to speak + of moral corruption, she would shrink, for hours afterwards, from meeting + his eye. + </p> + <p> + He remarked this and was glad. In such sensitive purity had she grown up, + so completely had he succeeded in holding aloof from her whatever could + disturb her childlike innocence, that her soul was like a shining pearl to + which no mire could cling. + </p> + <p> + He prayed that he might ever keep her thus! + </p> + <p> + So long as he himself was there to keep watch, no harm should approach + her. And if he was called away, he had at least provided her with armor of + proof for life, which would stand her in good stead on the day of battle. + And a day of battle no doubt would come. He gazed at her with a look which + she did not understand, and said with his strong faith, “Well, well, + everything is in the hand of Providence!” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t you time to go for a walk with me to-day, father?” asked Rebecca, + when they had finished dinner. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes; do you know, I believe it would do me good. The weather is + delightful, and I’ve been so industrious that my sermon is as good as + finished.” + </p> + <p> + They stepped out upon the threshold before the main entrance, which faced + the other buildings of the farm. There was this peculiarity about the + Parsonage, that the high-road, leading to the town, passed right through + the farm-yard. The Pastor did not at all like this, for before everything + he loved peace and quietness; and although the district was sufficiently + out-of-the-way, there was always a certain amount of life on the road + which led to the town. + </p> + <p> + But for Ansgarius the little traffic that came their way was an + inexhaustible source of excitement. While the father and daughter stood on + the threshold discussing whether they should follow the road or go through + the heather down to the beach, the young warrior suddenly came rushing up + the hill and into the yard. He was flushed and out of breath, and + Bucephalus was going at a hand gallop. Right before the door he reined in + his horse with a sudden jerk, so that he made a deep gash in the sand; and + swinging his sword, he shouted, “They’re coming, they’re coming!” + </p> + <p> + “Who are coming?” asked Rebecca. + </p> + <p> + “Snorting black chargers and three war chariots full of men-at-arms.” + </p> + <p> + “Rubbish, my boy!” said his father, sternly. + </p> + <p> + “Three phaetons are coming with townspeople in them,” said Ansgarius, and + dismounted with an abashed air. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go in, Rebecca,” said the Pastor, turning. + </p> + <p> + But at the same moment the foremost horses came at a quick pace over the + brow of the hill. They were not exactly snorting chargers; yet it was a + pretty sight as carriage after carriage came into view in the sunshine, + full of merry faces and lively colors. Rebecca could not help stopping. + </p> + <p> + On the back seat of the foremost carriage sat an elderly gentleman and a + buxom lady. On the front seat she saw a young lady; and just as they + entered the yard, a gentleman who sat at her side stood up, and, with a + word of apology to the lady on the back seat, turned and looked forward + past the driver. Rebecca gazed at him without knowing what she was doing. + </p> + <p> + “How lovely it is here!” cried the young man. + </p> + <p> + For the Parsonage lay on the outermost slope towards the sea, so that the + vast blue horizon suddenly burst upon you as you entered the yard. + </p> + <p> + The gentleman on the back seat leaned a little forward. “Yes, it’s very + pretty here,” he said; “I’m glad that you appreciate our peculiar scenery, + Mr. Lintzow.” + </p> + <p> + At the same moment the young man’s glance met Rebecca’s, and she instantly + lowered her eyes. But he stopped the driver, and cried, “Let us remain + here!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said the older lady, with a low laugh. “This won’t do, Mr. + Lintzow; this is the Parsonage.” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn’t matter,” cried the young man, merrily, as he jumped out of the + carriage. “I say,” he shouted backward towards the other carriages, + “sha’n’t we rest here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” came the answer in chorus; and the merry party began at once + to alight. + </p> + <p> + But now the gentleman on the back seat rose, and said, seriously: “No, no, + my friends! this really won’t do! It’s out of the question for us to + descend upon the clergyman, whom we don’t know at all. It’s only ten + minutes’ drive to the district judge’s, and there they are in the habit of + receiving strangers.” + </p> + <p> + He was on the point of giving orders to drive on, when the Pastor appeared + in the door-way, with a friendly bow. He knew Consul Hartvig by sight—the + leading man of the town. + </p> + <p> + “If your party will make the best of things here, it will be a great + pleasure to me; and I think I may say that, so far as the view goes—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, my dear Pastor, you’re altogether too kind; it’s out of the + question for us to accept your kind invitation, and I must really beg you + to excuse these young madcaps,” said Mrs. Hartvig, half in despair when + she saw her youngest son, who had been seated in the last carriage, + already deep in a confidential chat with Ansgarius. + </p> + <p> + “But I assure you, Mrs. Hartvig,” answered the Pastor, smiling, “that so + pleasant an interruption of our solitude would be most welcome both to my + daughter and myself.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lintzow opened the carriage-door with a formal bow, Consul Hartvig + looked at his wife and she at him, the Pastor advanced and renewed his + invitation, and the end was that, with half-laughing reluctance, they + alighted and suffered the Pastor to usher them into the spacious + garden-room. + </p> + <p> + Then came renewed excuses and introductions. The party consisted of Consul + Hartvig’s children and some young friends of theirs, the picnic having + been arranged in honor of Max Lintzow, a friend of the eldest son of the + house, who was spending some days as the Consul’s guest. + </p> + <p> + “My daughter Rebecca,” said the Pastor, presenting her, “who will do the + best our humble house-keeping permits.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I protest, my dear Pastor,” the lively Mrs. Hartvig interrupted + him eagerly, “this is going too far! Even if this incorrigible Mr. Lintzow + and my crazy sons have succeeded in storming your house and home, I won’t + resign the last remnants of my authority. The entertainment shall most + certainly be my affair. Off you go, young men,” she said, turning to her + sons, “and unpack the carriages. And you, my dear child, must by all means + go and amuse yourself with the young people; just leave the catering to + me; I know all about that.” + </p> + <p> + And the kind-hearted woman looked with her honest gray eyes at her host’s + pretty daughter, and patted her on the cheek. + </p> + <p> + How nice that felt! There was a peculiar coziness in the touch of the + comfortable old lady’s soft hand. The tears almost rose to Rebecca’s eyes; + she stood as if she expected that the strange lady would put her arms + round her neck and whisper to her something she had long waited to hear. + </p> + <p> + But the conversation glided on. The young people, with ever-increasing + glee, brought all sorts of strange parcels out of the carriages. Mrs. + Hartvig threw her cloak upon a chair and set about arranging things as + best she could. But the young people, always with Mr. Lintzow at their + head, seemed determined to make as much confusion as possible. Even the + Pastor was infected by their merriment, and to Rebecca’s unspeakable + astonishment she saw her own father, in complicity with Mr. Lintzow, + biding a big paper parcel under Mrs. Hartvig’s cloak. + </p> + <p> + At last the racket became too much for the old lady. “My dear Miss + Rebecca,” she exclaimed, “have you not any show-place to exhibit in the + neighborhood—the farther off the better—so that I might get + these crazy beings off my hands for a little while?” + </p> + <p> + “There’s a lovely view from the King’s Knoll; and then there’s the beach + and the sea.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, let’s go down to the sea!” cried Max Lintzow. + </p> + <p> + “That’s just what I want,” said the old lady. “If you can relieve me of <i>him</i> + I shall be all right, for he is the worst of them all.” + </p> + <p> + “If Miss Rebecca will lead the way, I will follow wherever she pleases,” + said the young man, with a bow. + </p> + <p> + Rebecca blushed. Nothing of that sort had ever been said to her before. + The handsome young man made her a low bow, and his words had such a ring + of sincerity. But there was no time to dwell upon this impression; the + whole merry troop were soon out of the house, through the garden, and, + with Rebecca and Lintzow at their head, making their way up to the little + height which was called the King’s Knoll. + </p> + <p> + Many years ago a number of antiquities had been dug up on the top of the + Knoll, and one of the Pastor’s predecessors in the parish had planted some + hardy trees upon the slopes. With the exception of a rowan-tree, and a + walnut-avenue in the Parsonage garden, these were the only trees to be + found for miles round on the windy slopes facing the open sea. In spite of + storms and sand-drifts, they had, in the course of time, reached something + like the height of a man, and, turning their bare and gnarled stems to the + north wind, like a bent back, they stretched forth their long, yearning + arms towards the south. Rebecca’s mother had planted some violets among + them. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how fortunate!” cried the eldest Miss Hartvig; “here are violets! Oh, + Mr. Lintzow, do pick me a bouquet of them for this evening!” + </p> + <p> + The young man, who had been exerting himself to hit upon the right tone in + which to converse with Rebecca, fancied that the girl started at Miss + Frederica’s words. + </p> + <p> + “You are very fond of the violets?” he said, softly. + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him in surprise; how could he possibly know that? + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you think, Miss Hartvig, that it would be better to pick the + flowers just as we are starting, so that they may keep fresher?” + </p> + <p> + “As you please,” she answered, shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s hope she’ll forget all about it by that time,” said Max Lintzow to + himself, under his breath. + </p> + <p> + But Rebecca heard, and wondered what pleasure he could find in protecting + her violets, instead of picking them for that handsome girl. + </p> + <p> + After they had spent some time in admiring the limitless prospect, the + party left the Knoll and took a foot-path downward towards the beach. + </p> + <p> + On the smooth, firm sand, at the very verge of the sea, the young people + strolled along, conversing gayly. Rebecca was at first quite confused. It + seemed as though these merry towns-people spoke a language she did not + understand. Sometimes she thought they laughed at nothing; and, on the + other hand, she herself often could not help laughing at their cries of + astonishment and their questions about everything they saw. + </p> + <p> + But gradually she began to feel at her ease among these good-natured, + kindly people; the youngest Miss Hartvig even put her arm around her waist + as they walked. And then Rebecca, too, thawed; she joined in their + laughter, and said what she had to say as easily and freely as any of the + others. It never occurred to her to notice that the young men, and + especially Mr. Lintzow, were chiefly taken up with her; and the little + pointed speeches which this circumstance called forth from time to time + were as meaningless for her as much of the rest of the conversation. + </p> + <p> + They amused themselves for some time with running down the shelving beach + every time the wave receded, and then rushing up again when the next wave + came. And great was the glee when one of the young men was overtaken, or + when a larger wave than usual sent its fringe of foam right over the + slope, and forced the merry party to beat a precipitate retreat. + </p> + <p> + “Look! Mamma’s afraid that we shall be too late for the ball,” cried Miss + Hartvig, suddenly; and they now discovered that the Consul and Mrs. + Hartvig and the Pastor were standing like three windmills on the Parsonage + hill, waving with pocket handkerchiefs and napkins. + </p> + <p> + They turned their faces homeward. Rebecca took them by a short cut over + the morass, not reflecting that the ladies from the town could not jump + from tuft to tuft as she could. Miss Frederica, in her tight skirt, jumped + short, and stumbled into a muddy hole. She shrieked and cried piteously + for help, with her eyes fixed upon Lintzow. + </p> + <p> + “Look alive, Henrik!” cried Max to Hartvig junior, who was nearer at hand; + “why don’t you help your sister?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Frederica extricated herself without help, and the party proceeded. + </p> + <p> + The table was laid in the garden, along the wall of the house; and + although the spring was so young, it was warm enough in the sunshine. When + they had all found seats, Mrs. Hartvig cast a searching glance over the + table. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why—surely there’s something wanting! I’m convinced I saw + the house-keeper wrapping up a black grouse this morning. Frederica, my + dear, don’t you remember it?” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, mother, you know that housekeeping is not at all in my + department.” + </p> + <p> + Rebecca looked at her father, and so did Lintzow; the worthy Pastor pulled + a face upon which even Ansgarius could read a confession of crime. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t possibly believe,” began Mrs. Hartvig, “that you, Pastor, have + been conspiring with—” And then he could not help laughing and + making a clean breast of it, amid great merriment, while the boys in + triumph produced the parcel with the game. Every one was in the best + possible humor. Consul Hartvig was delighted to find that their clerical + host could join in a joke, and the Pastor himself was in higher spirits + than he had been in for many a year. + </p> + <p> + In the course of the conversation some one happened to remark that + although the arrangements might be countrified enough, the viands were too + town-like; “No country meal is complete without thick milk.” [Note: Milk + allowed to stand until it has thickened to the consistency of curds, and + then eaten, commonly with sugar.] + </p> + <p> + Rebecca at once rose and demanded leave to bring a basin of milk; and, + paying no attention to Mrs. Hartvig’s protests, she left the table. + </p> + <p> + “Let me help you, Miss Rebecca,” cried Max, and ran after her. + </p> + <p> + “That is a lively young man,” said the Pastor. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, isn’t he?” answered the Consul, “and a deuced good business man into + the bargain. He has spent several years abroad, and now his father has + taken him into partnership.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s perhaps a little unstable,” said Mrs. Hartvig, doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is indeed,” sighed Miss Frederica. + </p> + <p> + The young man followed Rebecca through the suite of rooms that led to the + dairy. At bottom, she did not like this, although the dairy was her pride; + but he joked and laughed so merrily that she could not help joining in the + laughter. + </p> + <p> + She chose a basin of milk upon the upper shelf, and stretched out her arms + to reach it. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Miss Rebecca, it’s too high for you!” cried Max; “let me hand it + down to you.” And as he said so he laid his hand upon hers. + </p> + <p> + Rebecca hastily drew back her hand. She knew that her face had flushed, + and she almost felt as if she must burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + Then he said, softly and earnestly, lowering his eyes, “Pray, pardon me, + Miss Rebecca. I feel that my behavior must seem far too light and + frivolous to such a woman as you; but I should be sorry that you should + think of me as nothing but the empty coxcomb I appear to be. Merriment, to + many people, is merely a cloak for their sufferings, and there are some + who laugh only that they may not weep.” + </p> + <p> + At the last words he looked up. There was something so mournful, and at + the same time so reverential, in his glance, that Rebecca all of a sudden + felt as if she had been unkind to him. She was accustomed to reach things + down from the upper shelf, but when she again stretched out her hands for + the basin of milk, she let her arms drop, and said, “No, perhaps it <i>is</i> + too high for me, after all.” + </p> + <p> + A faint smile passed over his face as he took the basin and carried it + carefully out; she accompanied him and opened the doors for him. Every + time he passed her she looked closely at him. His collar, his necktie, his + coat—everything was different from her father’s, and he carried with + him a peculiar perfume which she did not know. + </p> + <p> + When they came to the garden door, he stopped for an instant, and looked + up with a melancholy smile: “I must take a moment to recover my expression + of gayety, so that no one out there may notice anything.” + </p> + <p> + Then he passed out upon the steps with a joking speech to the company at + the table, and she heard their laughing answers; but she herself remained + behind in the garden-room. + </p> + <p> + Poor young man! how sorry she was for him; and how strange that she of all + people should be the only one in whom he confided. What secret sorrow + could it be that depressed him? Perhaps he, too, had lost his mother. Or + could it be something still mote terrible? How glad she would be if only + she could help him. + </p> + <p> + When Rebecca presently came out he was once more the blithest of them all. + Only once in a while, when he looked at her, his eyes seemed again to + assume that melancholy, half-beseeching expression; and it cut her to the + heart when he laughed at the same moment. + </p> + <p> + At last came the time for departure; there was hearty leave-taking on both + sides. But as the last of the packing was going on, and in the general + confusion, while every one was finding his place in the carriages, or + seeking a new place for the homeward journey, Rebecca slipped into the + house, through the rooms, out into the garden, and away to the King’s + Knoll. Here she seated herself in the shadow of the trees, where the + violets grew, and tried to collect her thoughts.—“What about the + violets, Mr. Lintzow?” cried Miss Frederica, who had already taken her + seat in the carriage. + </p> + <p> + The young man had for some time been eagerly searching for the daughter of + the house. He answered absently, “I’m afraid it’s too late.” + </p> + <p> + But a thought seemed suddenly to strike him. “Oh, Mrs. Hartvig,” he cried, + “will you excuse me for a couple of minutes while I fetch a bouquet for + Miss Frederica?”—Rebecca heard rapid steps approaching; she thought + it could be no one but he. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, are you here, Miss Rebecca? I have come to gather some violets.” + </p> + <p> + She turned half away from him and began to pluck the flowers. + </p> + <p> + “Are these flowers for me?” he asked, hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + “Are they not for Miss Frederica?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, let them be for me!” he besought, kneeling at her side. + </p> + <p> + Again his voice had such a plaintive ring in it—almost like that of + a begging child. + </p> + <p> + She handed him the violets without looking up. Then he clasped her round + the waist and held her close to him. She did not resist, but closed her + eyes and breathed heavily. Then she felt that he kissed her—over and + over again—on the eyes, on the mouth, meanwhile calling her by her + name, with incoherent words, and then kissing her again. They called to + him from the garden; he let her go and ran down the mound. The horses + stamped, the young man sprang quickly into the carriage, and it rolled + away. But as he was closing the carriage door he was so maladroit as to + drop the bouquet; only a single violet remained in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it’s no use offering you this one, Miss Frederica?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No, thanks; you may keep that as a memento of your remarkable dexterity,” + answered Miss Hartvig; he was in her black books. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—you are right—I shall do so,” answered Max Lintzow, with + perfect composure.—Next day, after the ball, when he put on his + morning-coat, he found a withered violet in the button-hole. He nipped off + the flower with his fingers, and drew out the stalk from beneath. + </p> + <p> + “By-the-bye,” he said, smiling to himself in the mirror, “I had almost + forgotten <i>her</i>!” + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon he went away, and then he <i>quite</i> forgot her. + </p> + <p> + The summer came with warm days and long, luminous nights. The smoke of the + passing steamships lay in long black streaks over the peaceful sea. The + sailing-ships drifted by with flapping sails and took nearly a whole day + to pass out of sight. + </p> + <p> + It was some time before the Pastor noticed any change in his daughter. But + little by little he became aware that Rebecca was not flourishing that + summer. She had grown pale, and kept much to her own room. She scarcely + ever came into the study, and at last he fancied that she avoided him. + </p> + <p> + Then he spoke seriously to her, and begged her to tell him if she was ill, + or if mental troubles of any sort had affected her spirits. + </p> + <p> + But she only wept, and answered scarcely a word. + </p> + <p> + After this conversation, however, things went rather better. She did not + keep so much by herself, and was oftener with her father. But the old ring + was gone from her voice, and her eyes were not so frank as of old. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor came, and began to cross-question her. She blushed as red as + fire, and at last burst into such a paroxysm of weeping, that the old + gentleman left her room and went down to the Pastor in his study. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Doctor, what do you think of Rebecca?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me now, Pastor,” began the Doctor, diplomatically, “has your + daughter gone through any violent mental crisis—hm—any—” + </p> + <p> + “Temptation, do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not exactly. Has she not had any sort of heartache? Or, to put it + plainly, any love-sorrow?” + </p> + <p> + The Pastor was very near feeling a little hurt. How could the Doctor + suppose that his own Rebecca, whose heart was as an open book to him, + could or would conceal from her father any sorrow of such a nature! And, + besides—! Rebecca was really not one of the girls whose heads were + full of romantic dreams of love. And as she was never away from his side, + how could she—? “No, no, my dear Doctor! That diagnosis does you + little credit!” the Pastor concluded, with a tranquil smile. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, there’s no harm done!” said the old Doctor, and wrote a + prescription which was at least innocuous. He knew of no simples to cure + love-sorrows; but in his heart of hearts he held to his diagnosis. + </p> + <p> + The visit of the Doctor had frightened Rebecca. She now kept still + stricter watch upon herself, and redoubled her exertions to seem as + before. For no one must suspect what had happened: that a young man, an + utter stranger, had held her in his arms and kissed her—over and + over again! + </p> + <p> + As often as she realized this the blood rushed to her cheeks. She washed + herself ten times in the day, yet it seemed she could never be clean. + </p> + <p> + For what was it that had happened? Was it of the last extremity of shame? + Was she now any better than the many wretched girls whose errors she had + shuddered to think of, and had never been able to understand? Ah, if there + were only any one she could question! If she could only unburden her mind + of all the doubt and uncertainty that tortured her; learn clearly what she + had done; find out if she had still the right to look her father in the + face—or if she were the most miserable of all sinners. + </p> + <p> + Her father often asked her if she could not confide to him what was + weighing on her mind; for he felt that she was keeping something from him. + But when she looked into his clear eyes, into his pure open face, it + seemed impossible, literally impossible, to approach that terrible impure + point and she only wept. She thought sometimes of that good Mrs. Hartvig’s + soft hand; but she was a stranger, and far away. So she must e’en fight + out her fight in utter solitude, and so quietly that no one should be + aware of it. + </p> + <p> + And he, who was pursuing his path through life with so bright a + countenance and so heavy a heart! Should she ever see him again? And if + she were ever to meet him, where should she hide herself? He was an + inseparable part of all her doubt and pain; but she felt no bitterness, no + resentment towards him. All that she suffered bound her closer to him, and + he was never out of her thoughts. + </p> + <p> + In the daily duties of the household Rebecca was as punctual and careful + as ever. But in everything she did he was present to her memory. + Innunmerable spots in the house and garden recalled him to her thoughts; + she met him in the door-ways; she remembered where he stood when first he + spoke to her. She had never been at the King’s Knoll since that day; it + was there that he had clasped her round the waist, and—kissed her. + </p> + <p> + The Pastor was full of solicitude about his daughter; but whenever the + Doctor’s hint occurred to him he shook his head, half angrily. How could + he dream that a practised hand, with a well-worn trick of the fence, could + pierce the armor of proof with which he had provided her? + </p> + <p> + If the spring had been late, the autumn was early. + </p> + <p> + One fine warm summer evening it suddenly began to rain. The next day it + was still raining; and it poured incessantly, growing ever colder and + colder, for eleven days and nights on end. At last it cleared up; but the + next night there were four degrees of frost. [Note: Réaumur.] + </p> + <p> + On the bushes and trees the leaves hung glued together after the long + rain; and when the frost had dried them after its fashion, they fell to + the ground in multitudes at every little puff of wind. + </p> + <p> + The Pastor’s tenant was one of the few that had got their corn in; and now + it had to be threshed while there was water for the machine. The little + brook in the valley rushed foaming along, as brown as coffee, and all the + men on the farm were taken up with tending the machine and carting corn + and straw up and down the Parsonage hill. + </p> + <p> + The farm-yard was bestrewn with straw, and when the wind swirled in + between the houses it seized the oat-straws by the head, raised them on + end, and set them dancing along like yellow spectres. It was the juvenile + autumn wind trying its strength; not until well on in the winter, when it + has full-grown lungs, does it take to playing with tiles and chimney-pots. + </p> + <p> + A sparrow sat crouched together upon the dog-kennel; it drew its head down + among its feathers, blinked its eyes, and betrayed no interest in + anything. But in reality it noted carefully where the corn was deposited. + In the great sparrow-battle of the spring it had been in the very centre + of the ball, and had pecked and screamed with the best of them. But it had + sobered down since then; it thought of its wife and children, and + reflected how good it was to have something in reserve against the winter.—Ansgarius + looked forward to the winter—to perilous expeditions through the + snow-drifts and pitch-dark evenings with thundering breakers. He already + turned to account the ice which lay on the puddles after the frosty + nights, by making all his tin soldiers, with two brass cannons, march out + upon it. Stationed upon an overturned bucket, he watched the ice giving + way, little by little, until the whole army was immersed, and only the + wheels of the cannons remained visible. Then he shouted, “Hurrah!” and + swung his cap. + </p> + <p> + “What are you shouting about?” asked the Pastor, who happened to pass + through the farm-yard. + </p> + <p> + “I’m playing at Austerlitz!” answered Ansgarius, beaming. + </p> + <p> + The father passed on, sighing mournfully; he could not understand his + children.—Down in the garden sat Rebecca on a bench in the sun. She + looked out over the heather, which was in purple flower, while the meadows + were putting on their autumn pallor. + </p> + <p> + The lapwings were gathering in silence, and holding flying drills in + preparation for their journey; wad all the strand birds were assembling, + in order to take flight together. Even the lark had lost its courage and + was seeking convoy voiceless and unknown among the other gray autumn + birds. But the sea-gull stalked peaceably about, protruding its crop; it + was not under notice to quit. + </p> + <p> + The air was so still and languid and hazy. All sounds and colors were + toning down against the winter, and that vas very pleasant to her. + </p> + <p> + She was weary, and the long dead winter would suit her well. She knew that + her winter would be longer than all the others, and she began to shrink + from the spring. + </p> + <p> + Then everything would awaken that the winter had laid to sleep. The birds + would come back and sing the old songs with new voices; and upon the + King’s Knoll her mother’s violets would peer forth afresh in azure + clusters; it was there that he had clasped her round the waist and kissed + her—over and over again. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PEAT MOOR. + </h2> + <h3> + High over the heathery wastes flew a wise old raven. + </h3> + <p> + He was bound many miles westward, right out to the sea-coast, to unearth a + sow’s ear which he had buried in the good times. + </p> + <p> + It was now late autumn, and food was scarce. + </p> + <p> + When you see one raven, says Father Brehm, you need only look round to + discover a second. + </p> + <p> + But you might have looked long enough where this wise old raven came + flying; he was, and remained, alone. And without troubling about anything + or uttering a sound, he sped on his strong coal-black wings through the + dense rain-mist, steering due west. + </p> + <p> + But as he flew, evenly and meditatively, his sharp eyes searched the + landscape beneath, and the old bird was full of chagrin. + </p> + <p> + Year by year the little green and yellow patches down there increased in + number and size; rood after rood was cut out of the heathery waste, little + houses sprang up with red-tiled roofs and low chimneys breathing oily + peat-reek. Men and their meddling everywhere! + </p> + <p> + He remembered how, in the days of his youth—several winters ago, of + course—this was the very place for a wide-awake raven with a family: + long, interminable stretches of heather, swarms of leverets and little + birds, eider-ducks on the shore with delicious big eggs, and tidbits of + all sorts abundant as heart could desire. + </p> + <p> + Now he saw house upon house, patches of yellow corn-land and green + meadows; and food was so scarce that a gentlemanly old raven had to fly + miles and miles for a paltry sow’s ear. + </p> + <p> + Oh, those men! those men! The old bird knew them. + </p> + <p> + He had grown up among men, and, what was more, among the aristocracy. He + had passed his childhood and youth at the great house close to the town. + </p> + <p> + But now, whenever he passed over the house, he soared high into the air, + so as not to be recognized. For when he saw a female figure down in the + garden, he thought it was the young lady of the house, wearing powdered + hair and a white head-dress; whereas it was in reality her daughter, with + snow-white curls and a widow’s cap. + </p> + <p> + Had he enjoyed his life among the aristocracy? Oh, that’s as you please to + look at it. There was plenty to eat and plenty to learn; but, after all, + it was captivity. During the first years his left wing was clipped, and + afterwards, as his old master used to say, he was upon <i>parole d’honneur</i>. + </p> + <p> + This parole he had broken one spring when a glossy-black young she-raven + happened to fly over the garden. + </p> + <p> + Some time afterwards—a few winters had slipped away—he came + back to the house. But some strange boys threw stones at him; the old + master and the young lady were not at home. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt they are in town,” thought the old raven; and he came again some + time later. But he met with just the same reception. + </p> + <p> + Then the gentlemenly old bird—for in the meantime he had grown old—felt + hurt, and now he flew high over the house. He would have nothing more to + do with men, and the old master and the young lady might look for him as + long as they pleased. That they did so he never doubted. + </p> + <p> + And he forgot all that he had learned, both the difficult French words + which the young lady taught him in the drawing-room, and the incomparably + easier expletives which he had picked up on his own account in the + servants’ hall. + </p> + <p> + Only two human sounds clung to his memory, the last relics of his vanished + learning. When he was in a thoroughly good humor, he would often say, + “Bonjour, madame!” But when he was angry, he shrieked, “Go to the devil!” + </p> + <p> + Through the dense rain-mist he sped swiftly and unswervingly; already he + saw the white wreath of surf along the coast. Then he descried a great + black waste stretching out beneath him. It was a peat moor. + </p> + <p> + It was encircled with farms on the heights around; but on the low plain—it + must have been over a mile [Note: One Norwegian mile is equal to seven + English miles.] long—there was no trace of human meddling; only a + few stacks of peat on the outskirts, with black hummocks and gleaming + water-holes between them. + </p> + <p> + “Bonjour, madame!” cried the old raven, and began to wheel in great + circles over the moor. It looked so inviting that he settled downward, + slowly and warily, and alighted upon a tree-root in the midst of it. + </p> + <p> + Here it was just as in the old days-a silent wilderness. On some scattered + patches of drier soil there grew a little short heather and a few clumps + of rushes. They were withered; but on their stiff stems there still hung + one or two tufts—black, and sodden by the autumn rain. For the most + part the soil was fine, black, and crumbling—wet and full of + water-holes. Gray and twisted tree-roots stuck up above the surface, + interlaced like a gnarled net-work. + </p> + <p> + The old raven well understood all that he saw. There had been trees here + in the old times, before even his day. + </p> + <p> + The wood had disappeared; branches, leaves, everything was gone. Only the + tangled roots remained, deep down in the soft mass of black fibres and + water. + </p> + <p> + But further than this, change could not possibly go; so it must endure, + and here, at any rate, men would have to stint their meddling. + </p> + <p> + The old bird held himself erect. The farms lay so far away that he felt + securely at home, here in the middle of the bottomless morass. One relic, + at least, of antiquity must remain undisturbed. He smoothed his glossy + black feathers, and said several times, “Bonjour, madame!” + </p> + <p> + But down from the nearest farm came a couple of men with a horse and cart; + two small boys ran behind. They took a crooked course among the hummocks, + but made as though to cross the morass. + </p> + <p> + “They must soon stop,” thought the raven. + </p> + <p> + But they drew nearer and nearer; the old bird turned his head uneasily + from side to side; it was strange that they should venture so far out. + </p> + <p> + At last they stopped, and the men set to work with spades and axes. The + raven could see that they were struggling with a huge root which they + wanted to loosen. + </p> + <p> + “They will soon tire of that,” thought the raven. + </p> + <p> + But they did not tire, they hacked with their axes—the sharpest the + raven had ever seen—they dug and hauled, and at last they actually + got the huge stem turned over on its side, so that the whole tough + net-work of roots stood straight up in the air. + </p> + <p> + The small boys wearied of digging canals between the water-holes. “Look at + that great big crow over there,” said one of them. + </p> + <p> + They armed themselves with a stone in each hand, and came sneaking forward + behind the hummocks. + </p> + <p> + The raven saw them quite well. But that was not the worst thing it saw. + </p> + <p> + Not even out on the morass was antiquity to be left in peace. He had now + seen that even the gray tree-roots, older than the oldest raven, and + firmly inwoven into the deep, bottomless morass—that even they had + to yield before the sharp axes. + </p> + <p> + And when the boys had got so near that they were on the point of opening + fire, he raised his heavy wings and soared aloft. + </p> + <p> + But as he rose into the air and looked down upon the toiling men and the + stupid boys, who stood gaping at him with a stone in each hand, a great + wrath seized the old bird. + </p> + <p> + He swooped down upon the boys like an eagle, and while his great wings + flounced about their ears, he shrieked in a terrible voice, “Go to the + devil!” + </p> + <p> + The boys gave a yell and threw themselves down upon the ground. When they + presently ventured to look up again, all was still and deserted as before. + Far away, a solitary blackbird winged to the westward. + </p> + <p> + But till they grew to be men—aye, even to their dying day—they + were firmly convinced that the Evil One himself had appeared to them out + on the black morass, in the form of a monstrous black bird with eyes of + fire. + </p> + <p> + But it was only an old raven, flying westward to unearth a sow’s ear which + it had buried. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + “HOPE’S CLAD IN APRIL GREEN.” + </h2> + <h3> + “You’re kicking up the dust!” cried Cousin Hans. + </h3> + <p> + Ola did not hear. + </p> + <p> + “He’s quite as deaf as Aunt Maren,” thought Hans. “You’re kicking up the + dust!” he shouted, louder. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I beg your pardon!” said Cousin Ola, and lifted his feet high in air + at every step. Not for all the world would he do anything to annoy his + brother; he had too much on his conscience already. + </p> + <p> + Was he not at this very moment thinking of her whom he knew that his + brother loved? And was it not sinful of him to be unable to conquer a + passion which, besides being a wrong towards his own brother, was so + utterly hopeless? + </p> + <p> + Cousin Ola took himself sternly to task, and while he kept to the other + side of the way, so as not to make a dust, he tried with all his might to + think of the most indifferent things. But however far away his thoughts + might start, they always returned by the strangest short-cuts to the + forbidden point, and began once more to flutter around it, like moths + around a candle. + </p> + <p> + The brothers, who were paying a holiday visit to their uncle, the Pastor, + were now on their way to the Sheriff’s house, where there was to be a + dancing-party for young people. There were many students paying visits in + the neighborhood, so that these parties passed like an epidemic from house + to house. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans was thus in his very element; he sang, he danced, he was + entertaining from morning to night; and if his tone had been a little + sharp when he declared that Ola was kicking up the dust, it was really + because of his annoyance at being unable, by any means, to screw his + brother up to the same pitch of hilarity. + </p> + <p> + We already know what was oppressing Ola. But even under ordinary + circumstances he was more quiet and retiring than his brother. He danced + “like a pair of nut-crackers,” said Hans; he could not sing at all (Cousin + Hans even declared that his speaking voice was monotonous and + unsympathetic); and, in addition to all this, he was rather absent and + ill-at-ease in the society of ladies. + </p> + <p> + As they approached the Sheriff’s house, they heard a carriage behind them. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the Doctor’s people,” said Hans, placing himself in position for + bowing; for the beloved one was the daughter of the district physician. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how lovely she is—in light pink!” said Cousin Hans. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Ola saw at once that the beloved one was in light green; but he + dared not say a word lest he should betray himself by his voice, for his + heart was in his throat. + </p> + <p> + The carriage passed at full speed; the young men bowed, and the old Doctor + cried out, “Come along!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I declare, that was she in light green!” said Cousin Hans; he had + barely had time to transfer his burning glance from the light-pink frock + to the light-green. “But wasn’t she lovely, Ola?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” answered Ola with an effort. + </p> + <p> + “What a cross-grained being you are!” exclaimed Hans, indignantly. “But + even if you’re devoid of all sense for female beauty, I think you might at + least show more interest in—in your brother’s future wife.” + </p> + <p> + “If you only knew how she interests me,” thought the nefarious Ola, + hanging his head. + </p> + <p> + But meanwhile this delightful meeting had thrown Hans into an ecstatic + mood of amorous bliss; he swung his stick, snapped his fingers, and sang + at the pitch of his voice. + </p> + <p> + As he thought of the fair one in the light-green frock—fresh as + spring, airy as a butterfly, he called it—the refrain of an old + ditty rose to his lips, and he sang it with great enjoyment: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Hope’s clad in April green— + Trommelommelom, trommelommelom, + Tender it’s vernal sheen— + Trommelommelom, trommelommelom.” + </pre> + <p> + This verse seemed to him eminently suited to the situation, and he + repeated it over and over again—now in the waltz-time of the old + melody, now as a march, and again as a serenade—now in loud, + jubilant tones, and then half whispering, as if he were confiding his love + and his hope to the moon and the silent groves. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Ola was almost sick; for, great as was his respect for his + brother’s singing, he became at last so dog-tired of this April-green hope + and this eternal “Trommelommelom” that it was a great relief to him when + they at last arrived at the Sheriff’s. + </p> + <p> + The afternoon passed as it always does on such occasions; they all enjoyed + themselves mightily. For most of them were in love, and those who were not + found almost a greater pleasure in keeping an eye upon those who were. + </p> + <p> + Some one proposed a game of “La Grace” in the garden. Cousin Hans rushed + nimbly about and played a thousand pranks, threw the game into confusion, + and paid his partner all sorts of attentions. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Ola stood at his post and gave his whole mind to his task; he + caught the ring and sent it off again with never failing precision. Ola + would have enjoyed himself, too, if only his conscience had not so + bitterly upbraided him for his nefarious love for his brother’s “future + wife.” + </p> + <p> + When the evening began to grow cool the party went in-doors, and the + dancing began. + </p> + <p> + Ola did not dance much at any time, but to-day he was not at all in the + humor. He occupied himself in observing Hans, who spent the whole evening + in worshipping his lady-love. A spasm shot through Ola’s heart when he saw + the light-green frock whirl away in his brother’s arms, and it seemed to + him that they danced every dance together. + </p> + <p> + At last came the time for breaking up. Most of the older folks had already + taken their departure in their respective carriages, the young people + having resolved to see each other home in the delicious moonlight. + </p> + <p> + But when the last galop was over, the hostess would not hear of the young + ladies going right out into the evening air, while they were still warm + with dancing. She therefore decreed half an hour for cooling down, and, to + occupy this time in the pleasantest manner, she begged Cousin Hans to sing + a little song. + </p> + <p> + He was ready at once, he was not one of those foolish people who require + pressing; he knew quite well the value of his talent. + </p> + <p> + There was, however, this peculiarity about Hans’s singing, or rather about + its reception, that opinion was more than usually divided as to its + merits. By three persons in the world his execution was admired as + something incomparable. These three persons were, first, Cousin Ola, then + Aunt Maren, and lastly Cousin Hans himself. Then there was a large party + which thought it great fun to hear Cousin Hans sing. “He always makes + something out of it.” But lastly there came a few evil-disposed people who + asserted that he could neither sing nor play. + </p> + <p> + It was with respect to the latter point, the accompaniment, that Cousin + Ola always cherished a secret reproach against his brother—the only + shadow upon his admiration for him. + </p> + <p> + He knew how much labor it had cost both Hans himself and his sisters to + get him drilled in these accompaniments, especially in the three minor + chords with which he always finished up, and which he practised beforehand + every time he went to a party. + </p> + <p> + So, when he saw his brother seated at the piano, letting his fingers run + lightly and carelessly over the key-board, and then looking up to the + ceiling and muttering, “What key is it in again?” as if he were searching + for the right one, a shiver always ran through Cousin Ola. For he knew + that Hans had mastered three accompaniments, and no more—one minor + and two major. + </p> + <p> + And when the singer, before rising from the piano, threw in these three + carefully-practised minor chords so lightly, and with such an impromptu + air, as if his fingers had instinctively chanced upon them, then Ola shook + his head and said to himself, “This is not quite straightforward of Hans.” + </p> + <p> + In the mean time his brother sang away at his rich repertory. Schumann and + Kierulf were his favorites, so he performed <i>“Du bist die Ruh,” “My + loved one, I am prison’d” “Ich grolle nicht,” “Die alten bösen Lieder,” “I + lay my all, love, at thy feet,” “Aus meiren grossen Schmerzen mach’ ich + die kleinen Lieder”</i>—all with the same calm superiority, and that + light, half-sportive accompaniment. The only thing that gave him a little + trouble was that fatal point, <i>“Ich legt’ auch meine Liebe, Und meinen + Schmerz hinein;”</i> but even of this he made something. + </p> + <p> + Then Ola, who knew to a nicety the limits of his brother’s musical + accomplishment, noticed that he was leaving the beaten track, and + beginning to wander among the keys; and presently he was horrified to find + that Hans was groping after that unhappy “Hope’s clad in April green.” But + fortunately he could not hit upon it, so he confined himself to humming + the song half aloud, while he threw in the three famous minor chords. + </p> + <p> + “Now we’re quite cool again,” cried the fair one in light green, hastily. + </p> + <p> + There was a general burst of laughter at her eagerness to get away, and + she was quite crimson when she said good-night. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Ola, who was standing near the hostess, also took his leave. Cousin + Hans, on the other hand, was detained by the Sheriff, who was anxious to + learn under what teachers he had studied music; and that took time. + </p> + <p> + Thus it happened that Ola and the fair one in the light green passed out + into the passage at the same time. There the young folks were crowding + round the hat-pegs, some to find their own wraps, some to take down other + people’s. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it’s no good trying to push our way forward,” said the fair + one. + </p> + <p> + Ola’s windpipe contracted in such a vexatious way that he only succeeded + in uttering a meaningless sound. They stood close to each other in the + crush, and Ola would gladly have given a finger to be able to say + something pleasant to her, or at least something rational; but he found it + quite impossible. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you’ve enjoyed the evening?” said she, in a friendly tone. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Ola thought of the pitiful part he had been playing all evening; + his unsociableness weighed so much upon his mind that he answered—the + very stupidest thing he could have answered, he thought, the moment the + words were out of his lips—“I’m so sorry that I can’t sing.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it’s a family failing,” answered the fair one, with a rapid + glance. + </p> + <p> + “N-n-no,” said Ola, exceedingly put out, “my brother sings capitally.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” she said, drily. + </p> + <p> + This was the most astounding thing that had ever happened to Ola: that + there could be more than one opinion about his brother’s singing, and that + she, his “future wife,” did not seem to admire it! And yet it was not + quite unpleasant to him to hear it. + </p> + <p> + Again there was a silence, which Ola sought in vain to break. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you care for dancing?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not with every one,” he blurted out. + </p> + <p> + She laughed: “No, no; but gentlemen have the right to choose.” + </p> + <p> + Now Ola began to lose his footing. He felt like a man who is walking, lost + in thought, through the streets on a winter evening, and who suddenly + discovers that he has got upon a patch of slippery ice. There was nothing + for it but to keep up and go ahead; so, with the courage of despair, he + said “If I knew—or dared to hope—that one of the ladies—no—that + the lady I wanted to dance with—that she would care to—hm—that + she would dance with me, then—then—” he could get no further, + and after saying “then” two or three times over, he came to a stand-still. + </p> + <p> + “You could ask her,” said the fair one. + </p> + <p> + Her bracelet had come unfastened, and its clasp was so stiff that she had + to bend right forward and pinch it so hard that she became quite red in + the face, in order to fasten it again. + </p> + <p> + “Would you, for example, dance with me?” Ola’s brain was swimming. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” she answered. She stood pressing the point of her shoe into a + crack in the floor. + </p> + <p> + “We’re to have a party at the Parsonage on Friday—would you give me + a dance then?” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure; which would you like?” she answered, trying her best to + assume a “society” manner. + </p> + <p> + “A quadrille?” said Ola; thinking: “Quadrilles are so long.” + </p> + <p> + “The second quadrille is disengaged,” answered the lady. + </p> + <p> + “And a galop?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, thank you; the first galop,” she replied, with a little hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “And a polka?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! no more,” cried the fair one, looking at Ola with alarm. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment, Hans came rushing along at full speed. “Oh, how lucky + I am to find you!—but in what company!” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon he took possession of the fair one in his amiable fashion, and + drew her away with him to find her wraps and join the others. + </p> + <p> + “A quadrille and a galop; but no more—so so! so so!” repeated Cousin + Ola. He stood as though rooted to the spot. At last he became aware that + he was alone. He hastily seized a hat, slunk out by the back way, sneaked + through the garden, and clambered with great difficulty over the garden + fence, not far from the gate which stood ajar. + </p> + <p> + He struck into the first foot-path through the fields, fixing his eyes + upon the Parsonage chimneys. He was vaguely conscious that he was getting + wet up to the knees in the long grass; but on the other hand, he was not + in the least aware that the Sheriff’s old uniform cap, which he had had + the luck to snatch up in his haste, was waggling about upon his head, + until at last it came to rest when the long peak slipped down over his + ear. + </p> + <p> + “A quadrille and a galop; but no more—so so! so so!—“—It + was pretty well on in the night when Hans approached the Parsonage. He had + seen the ladies of the Doctor’s party home, and was now making up the + accounts of the day as he went along. + </p> + <p> + “She’s a little shy; but on the whole I don’t dislike that.” + </p> + <p> + When he left the road at the Parsonage garden, he said, “She’s dreadfully + shy—almost more than I care for.” + </p> + <p> + But as he crossed the farm-yard, he vowed that coy and capricious girls + were the most intolerable creatures he knew. The thing was that he did not + feel at all satisfied with the upshot of the day. Not that he for a moment + doubted that she loved him; but, just on that account, he thought her + coldness and reserve doubly annoying. She had never once thrown the ring + to him; she had never once singled him out in the cotillion; and on the + way home she had talked to every one but him. But he would adopt a + different policy the next time; she should soon come to repent that day. + </p> + <p> + He slipped quietly into the house, so that his uncle might not hear how + late he was. In order to reach his own and his brother’s bedroom he had to + pass through a long attic. A window in this attic was used by the young + men as a door through which to reach a sort of balcony, formed by the + canopy over the steps leading into the garden. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans noticed that this window was standing open; and out upon the + balcony, in the clear moonlight, he saw his brother’s figure. + </p> + <p> + Ola still wore his white dancing-gloves; he held on to the railing with + both hands, and stared the moon straight in the face. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans could not understand what his brother was doing out there at + that time of night; and least of all could he understand what had induced + him to put a flower-pot on his head. + </p> + <p> + “He must be drunk,” thought Hans, approaching him warily. + </p> + <p> + Then he heard his brother muttering something about a quadrille and a + galop; after which he began to make some strange motions with his hands. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans received the impression that he was trying to snap his + fingers; and presently Ola said, slowly, and clearly, in his monotonous + and unsympathetic speaking voice: “Hope’s clad in April green—trommelommelom, + trommelommelom;” you see, poor fellow, he could not sing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AT THE FAIR. + </h2> + <p> + It was by the merest chance that Monsieur and Madame Tousseau came to + Saint-Germain-en-Laye in the early days of September. + </p> + <p> + Four weeks ago they had been married in Lyons, which was their home; but + where they had passed these four weeks they really could not have told + you. The time had gone hop skip-and-jump; a couple of days had entirely + slipped out of their reckoning, and, on the other hand, they remembered a + little summer-house at Fontainebleau, where they had rested one evening, + as clearly as if they had passed half their lives there. + </p> + <p> + Paris was, strictly speaking, the goal of their wedding journey, and there + they established themselves in a comfortable little <i>hôtel garni</i>. + But the city was sultry and they could not rest; so they rambled about + among the small towns in the neighborhood, and found themselves, one + Sunday at noon, in Saint-Germain. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur and Madame have doubtless come to take part in the fête?” said + the plump little landlady of the Hôtel Henri Quatre, as she ushered her + guests up the steps. + </p> + <p> + The fête? They knew of no fête in the world except their own wedded + happiness; but they did not say so to the landlady. + </p> + <p> + They soon learned that they had been lucky enough to drop into the very + midst of the great and celebrated fair which is held every year, on the + first Sunday of September, in the Forest of Saint-Germain. + </p> + <p> + The young couple were highly delighted with their good hap. It seemed as + though Fortune followed at their heels, or rather ran ahead of them, to + arrange surprises. After a delicious tête-à-tête dinner behind one of the + clipped yew trees in the quaint garden, they took a carriage and drove off + to the forest. + </p> + <p> + In the hotel garden, beside the little fountain in the middle of the lawn, + sat a ragged condor which the landlord had bought to amuse his guests. It + was attached to its perch by a good strong rope. But when the sun shone + upon it with real warmth, it fell a-thinking of the snow-peaks of Peru, of + mighty wing-strokes over the deep valleys—and then it forgot the + rope. + </p> + <p> + Two vigorous strokes with its pinions would bring the rope up taut, and it + would fall back upon the sward. There it would lie by the hour, then shake + itself and clamber up to its little perch again. + </p> + <p> + When it turned its head to watch the happy pair, Madame Tousseau burst + into a fit of laughter at its melancholy mien. + </p> + <p> + The afternoon sun glimmered through the dense foliage of the interminable + straight-ruled avenue that skirts the terrace. The young wife’s veil + fluttered aloft as they sped through the air, and wound itself right round + Monsieur’s head. It took a long time to put it in order again, and + Madame’s hat had to be adjusted ever so often. Then came the relighting of + Monsieur’s cigar, and that, too, was quite a business; for Madame’s fan + would always give a suspicious little flirt every time the match was + lighted; then a penalty had to be paid, and that, again, took time. + </p> + <p> + The aristocratic English family which was passing the summer at + Saint-Germain was disturbed in its regulation walk by the passing of the + gay little equipage. They raised their correct gray or blue eyes; there + was neither contempt nor annoyance in their look—only the faintest + shade of surprise. But the condor followed the carriage with its eyes, + until it became a mere black speck at the vanishing-point of the + straight-ruled interminable avenue. + </p> + <p> + “La joyeuse fête des Loges” is a genuine fair, with gingerbread cakes, + sword-swallowers, and waffles piping hot. As the evening falls, colored + lamps and Chinese lanterns are lighted around the venerable oak which + stands in the middle of the fairground, and boys climb about among its + topmost branches with maroons and Bengal lights. + </p> + <p> + Gentlemen of an inventive turn of mind go about with lanterns on their + hats, on their sticks, and wherever they can possibly hang; and the most + inventive of all strolls around with his sweetheart under a great + umbrella, with a lantern dancing from each rib. + </p> + <p> + On the outskirts, bonfires are lighted; fowls are roasted on spits, while + potatoes are cut into slices and fried in dripping. Each aroma seems to + have its amateurs, for there are always people crowding round; but the + majority stroll up and down the long street of booths. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur and Madame Tousseau had plunged into all the fun of the fair. + They had gambled in the most lucrative lottery in Europe, presided over by + a man who excelled in dubious witticisms. They had seen the fattest goose + in the world, and the celebrated flea, “Bismarch,” who could drive six + horses. Furthermore, they had purchased gingerbread, shot at a target for + clay pipes and soft-boiled eggs, and finally had danced a waltz in the + spacious dancing-tent. + </p> + <p> + They had never had such fun in their lives. There were no great people + there—at any rate, none greater than themselves. As they did not + know a soul, they smiled to every one, and when they met the same person + twice they laughed and nodded to him. + </p> + <p> + They were charmed with everything. They stood outside the great circus and + ballet marquees and laughed at the shouting buffoons. Scraggy mountebanks + performed on trumpets, and young girls with well-floured shoulders smiled + alluringly from the platforms. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Tousseau’s purse was never at rest; but they did not grow + impatient of the perpetual claims upon it. On the contrary, they only + laughed at the gigantic efforts these people would make to earn—perhaps + half a franc, or a few centimes. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly they encountered a face they knew. It was a young American whom + they had met at the hotel in Paris. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Monsieur Whitmore!” cried Madame Tousseau, gayly, “here at last + you’ve found a place where you can’t possibly help enjoying yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “For my part,” answered the American, slowly, “I find no enjoyment in + seeing the people who haven’t money making fools of themselves to please + the people who have.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you’re incorrigible!” laughed the young wife. “But I must compliment + you on the excellent French you are speaking to-day.” + </p> + <p> + After exchanging a few more words, they lost each other in the crowd; Mr. + Whitmore was going back to Paris immediately. + </p> + <p> + Madame Tousseau’s compliment was quite sincere. As a rule the grave + American talked deplorable French, but the answer he had made to Madame + was almost correct. It seemed as though it had been well thought out in + advance—as though a whole series of impressions had condensed + themselves into these words. Perhaps that was why his answer sank so deep + into the minds of Monsieur and Madame Tousseau. + </p> + <p> + Neither of them thought it a particularly brilliant remark; on the + contrary, they agreed that it must be miserable to take so gloomy a view + of things. But, nevertheless, his words left something rankling. They + could not laugh so lightly as before, Madame felt tired, and they began to + think of getting homewards. + </p> + <p> + Just as they turned to go down the long street of booths in order to find + their carriage, they met a noisy crew coming upward. + </p> + <p> + “Let us take the other way,” said Monsieur. + </p> + <p> + They passed between two booths, and emerged at the back of one of the + rows. They stumbled over the tree-roots before their eyes got used to the + uncertain light which fell in patches between the tents. A dog, which lay + gnawing at something or other, rose with a snarl, and dragged its prey + further into the darkness, among the trees. + </p> + <p> + On this side the booths were made up of old sails and all sorts of strange + draperies. Here and there light shone through the openings, and at one + place Madame distinguished a face she knew. + </p> + <p> + It was the man who had sold her that incomparable gingerbread—Monsieur + had half of it still in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + But it was curious to see the gingerbread-man from this side. Here was + something quite different from the smiling obsequiousness which had said + so many pretty things to her pretty face, and had been so unwearied in + belauding the gingerbread—which really was excellent. + </p> + <p> + Now he sat crouched together, eating some indescribable mess out of a + checked pocket-handkerchief—eagerly, greedily, without looking up. + </p> + <p> + Farther down they heard a muffled conversation. Madame was bent upon + peeping in; Monsieur objected, but he had to give in. + </p> + <p> + An old mountebank sat counting a handful of coppers, grumbling and + growling the while. A young girl stood before him, shivering and pleading + for pardon; she was wrapped in a long water-proof. + </p> + <p> + The man swore, and stamped on the ground. Then she threw off the + water-proof and stood half naked in a sort of ballet costume. Without + saying a word, and without smoothing her hair or preening her finery, she + mounted the little steps that led to the stage. + </p> + <p> + At that moment she turned and looked at her father. Her face had already + put on the ballet-simper, but it now gave place to a quite different + expression. The mouth remained fixed, but the eyes tried, for a second, to + send him a beseeching smile. The mountebank shrugged his shoulders, and + held out his hand with the coppers; the girl turned, ducked under the + curtain, and was received with shouts and applause. + </p> + <p> + Beside the great oak-tree the lottery man was holding forth as fluently as + ever. His witticisms, as the darkness thickened, grew less and less + dubious. There was a different ring, too, in the laughter of the crowd; + the men were noisier, the mountebanks leaner, the women more brazen, the + music falser—so it seemed, at least, to Madame and Monsieur. + </p> + <p> + As they passed the dancing-tent the racket of a quadrille reached their + ears. “Great heavens!—was it really there that we danced?” said + Madame, and nestled closer to her husband. + </p> + <p> + They made their way through the rout as quickly as they could; they would + soon reach their carriage, it was just beyond the circus-marquee. It would + be nice to rest and escape from all this hubbub. + </p> + <p> + The platform in front of the circus-marquee was now vacant. Inside, in the + dim and stifling rotunda, the performance was in full swing. + </p> + <p> + Only the old woman who sold the tickets sat asleep at her desk. And a + little way off, in the light of her lamp, stood a tiny boy. + </p> + <p> + He was dressed in tights, green on one side, red on the other; on his head + he had a fool’s cap with horns. + </p> + <p> + Close up to the platform stood a woman wrapped in a black shawl. She + seemed to be talking to the boy. + </p> + <p> + He advanced his red leg and his green leg by turns, and drew them back + again. At last he took three steps forward on his meagre shanks and held + out his hand to the woman. + </p> + <p> + She took what he had in it, and disappeared into the darkness. + </p> + <p> + He stood motionless for a moment, then he muttered some words and burst + into tears. + </p> + <p> + Presently he stopped, and said: “Maman m’a pris mon sou!”—and fell + to weeping again. + </p> + <p> + He dried his eyes and left off for a time, but as often as he repeated to + himself his sad little history—how his mother had taken his sou from + him—he was seized with another and a bitterer fit of weeping. + </p> + <p> + He stooped and buried his face in the curtain. The stiff, wrinkly + oil-painting must be hard and cold to cry into. The little body shrank + together; he drew his green leg close up under him, and stood like a stork + upon the red one. + </p> + <p> + No one on the other side of the curtain must hear that he was crying. + Therefore he did not sob like a child, but fought as a man fights against + a broken heart. + </p> + <p> + When the attack was over, he blew his nose with his fingers, and wiped + them on his tights. With the dirty curtain he had dabbled the tears all + over his face until it was streaked with black; and in this guise, and + dry-eyed, he gazed for a moment over the fair. + </p> + <p> + Then: “Maman m’a pris mon sou”—and he set off again. + </p> + <p> + The backsweep of the wave leaves the beach dry for an instant while the + next wave is gathering. Thus sorrow swept in heavy surges over the little + childish heart. + </p> + <p> + His dress was so ludicrous, his body so meagre, his weeping was so wofully + bitter, and his suffering so great and man-like——But at home + at the hotel—the Pavillon Henri Quatre, where the Queens of France + condescended to be brought to bed there the condor sat and slept upon its + perch. + </p> + <p> + And it dreamed its dream—its only dream—its dream about the + snow-peaks of Peru and the mighty wing-strokes over the deep valleys; and + then it forgot its rope. + </p> + <p> + It uplifted its ragged pinions vigorously, and struck two sturdy strokes. + Then the rope drew taut, and it fell back where it was wont to fall—it + wrenched its claw, and the dream vanished.——Next morning the + aristocratic English family was much concerned, and the landlord himself + felt annoyed, for the condor lay dead upon the grass. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TWO FRIENDS. + </h2> + <p> + No one could understand where he got his money from. But the person who + marvelled most at the dashing and luxurious life led by Alphonse was his + quondam friend and partner. + </p> + <p> + After they dissolved partnership, most of the custom and the best + connection passed by degrees into Charles’s hands. This was not because he + in any way sought to run counter to his former partner; on the contrary, + it arose simply from the fact that Charles was the more capable man of the + two. And as Alphonse had now to work on his own account, it was soon clear + to any one who observed him closely, that in spite of his promptitude, his + amiability and his prepossessing appearance, he was not fitted to be at + the head of an independent business. + </p> + <p> + And there was one person who <i>did</i> observe him closely. Charles + followed him step by step with his sharp eyes; every blunder, every + extravagance, every loss he knew all to a nicety, and he wondered that + Alphonse could keep going so long.—They had as good as grown up + together. Their mothers were cousins; the families had lived near each + other in the same street; and in a city like Paris proximity is as + important as relationship in promoting close intercourse. Moreover, the + boys went to the same school. + </p> + <p> + Thenceforth, as they grew up to manhood, they were inseparable. Mutual + adaptation overcame the great differences which originally marked their + characters, until at last their idiosyncrasies fitted into each other like + the artfully-carved pieces of wood which compose the picture-puzzles of + our childhood. + </p> + <p> + The relation between them was really a beautiful one, such as does not + often arise between two young men; for they did not understand friendship + as binding the one to bear everything at the hands of the other, but + seemed rather to vie with each other in mutual considerateness. + </p> + <p> + If, however, Alphonse in his relation to Charles showed any high degree of + considerateness, he him self was ignorant of it; and if any one had told + him of it he would doubtless have laughed loudly at such a mistaken + compliment. + </p> + <p> + For as life on the whole appeared to him very simple and straightforward, + the idea that his friendship should in any way fetter him was the last + thing that could enter his head. That Charles was his best friend seemed + to him as entirely natural as that he himself danced best, rode best, was + the best shot, and that the whole world was ordered entirely to his mind. + </p> + <p> + Alphonse was in the highest degree a spoilt child of fortune; he acquired + everything without effort; existence fitted him like an elegant dress, and + he wore it with such unconstrained amiability that people forgot to envy + him. + </p> + <p> + And then he was so handsome. He was tall and slim, with brown hair and big + open eyes; his complexion was clear and smooth, and his teeth shone when + he laughed. He was quite conscious of his beauty, but, as everybody had + petted him from his earliest days, his vanity was of a cheerful, + good-natured sort, which, after all, was not so offensive. He was + exceedingly fond of his friend. He amused himself and sometimes others by + teasing him and making fun of him; but he knew Charles’s face so + thoroughly that he saw at once when the jest was going too far. Then he + would resume his natural, kindly tone, until he made the serious and + somewhat melancholy Charles laugh till he was ill. + </p> + <p> + From his boyhood Charles had admired Alphonse beyond measure. He himself + was small and insignificant, quiet and shy. His friend’s brilliant + qualities cast a lustre over him as well, and gave a certain impetus to + his life. + </p> + <p> + His mother often said: “This friendship between the boys is a real + blessing for my poor Charles, for without it he would certainly have been + a melancholy creature.” + </p> + <p> + When Alphonse was on all occasions preferred to him, Charles rejoiced; he + was proud of his friend. He wrote his exercises, prompted him at + examination, pleaded his cause with the masters, and fought for him with + the boys. + </p> + <p> + At the commercial academy it was the same story. Charles worked for + Alphonse, and Alphonse rewarded him with his inexhaustible amiability and + unfailing good-humor. + </p> + <p> + When subsequently, as quite young men, they were placed in the same + banker’s office, it happened one day that the principal said to Charles: + “From the first of May I will raise your salary.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you,” answered Charles, “both on my own and on my friend’s + behalf.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Alphonse’s salary remains unaltered,” replied the chief, and + went on writing. + </p> + <p> + Charles never forgot that morning. It was the first time he had been + preferred or distinguished before his friend. And it was his commercial + capacity, the quality which, as a young man of business, he valued most, + that had procured him this preference; and it was the head of the firm, + the great financier, who had himself accorded him such recognition. + </p> + <p> + The experience was so strange to him that it seemed like an injustice to + his friend. He told Alphonse nothing of the occurrence; on the contrary, + he proposed that they should apply for two vacant places in the Crédit + Lyonnais. + </p> + <p> + Alphonse was quite willing, for he loved change, and the splendid new + banking establishment on the, Boulevard seemed to him far more attractive + than the dark offices in the Rue Bergère. So they removed to the Crédit + Lyonnais on the first of May. But as they were in the chief’s office + taking their leave, the old banker said to Charles, when Alphonse had gone + out (Alphonse always took precedence of Charles), “Sentiment won’t do for + a business man.” + </p> + <p> + From that day forward a change went on in Charles. He not only worked as + industriously and conscientiously as before, but developed such energy and + such an amazing faculty for labor as soon attracted to him the attention + of his superiors. That he was far ahead of his friend in business capacity + was soon manifest; but every time he received a new mark of recognition he + had a struggle with himself. For a long time, every advancement brought + with it a certain qualm of conscience; and yet he worked on with restless + ardor. + </p> + <p> + One day Alphonse said, in his light, frank way: “You are really a smart + fellow, Charlie! You’re getting ahead of everybody, young and old—not + to mention me. I’m quite proud of you!” + </p> + <p> + Charles felt ashamed. He had been thinking that Alphonse must feel wounded + at being left on one side, and now he learned that his friend not only did + not grudge him his advancement, but was even proud of him. By degrees his + conscience was lulled to rest, and his solid worth was more and more + appreciated— + </p> + <p> + But if he was in reality the more capable, how came it that he was so + entirely ignored in society, while Alphonse remained everybody’s darling? + The very promotions and marks of appreciation which he had won for himself + by hard work, were accorded him in a dry, business manner; while every + one, from the directors to the messengers, had a friendly word or a merry + greeting for Alphonse. + </p> + <p> + In the different offices and departments of the bank they intrigued to + obtain possession of Monsieur Alphonse; for a breath of life and freshness + followed ever in the wake of his handsome person and joyous nature. + Charles, on the other hand, had often remarked that his colleagues + regarded him as a dry person, who thought only of business and of himself. + </p> + <p> + The truth was that he had a heart of rare sensitiveness, with no faculty + for giving it expression. + </p> + <p> + Charles was one of those small, black Frenchmen whose beard begins right + under the eyes; his complexion was yellowish and his hair stiff and + splintery. His eyes did not dilate when he was pleased and animated, but + they flashed around and glittered. When he laughed the corners of his + mouth turned upward, and many a time, when his heart was full of joy and + good-will, he had seen people draw back, half-frightened by his forbidding + exterior. Alphonse alone knew him so well that he never seemed to see his + ugliness; every one else misunderstood him. He became suspicious, and + retired more and more within himself. + </p> + <p> + In an insensible crescendo the thought grew in him: Why should he never + attain anything of that which he most longed for—intimate and + cordial intercourse and friendliness which should answer to the warmth + pent up within him? Why should everyone smile to Alphonse with + out-stretched hands, while he must content himself with stiff bows and + cold glances! + </p> + <p> + Alphonse knew nothing of all this. He was joyous and healthy, charmed with + life and content with his daily work. He had been placed in the easiest + and most interesting branch of the business, and, with his quick brain and + his knack of making himself agreeable, he filled his place satisfactorily. + </p> + <p> + His social circle was very large—every one set store by his + acquaintance, and he was at least as popular among women as among men. + </p> + <p> + For a time Charles accompanied Alphonse into society, until he was seized + by a misgiving that he was invited for his friend’s sake alone, when he at + once drew back. + </p> + <p> + When Charles proposed that they should set up in business together, + Alphonse had answered: “It is too good of you to choose me. You could + easily find a much better partner.” + </p> + <p> + Charles had imagined that their altered relations and closer association + in work would draw Alphonse out of the circles which Charles could not now + endure, and unite them more closely. For he had conceived a vague dread of + losing his friend. + </p> + <p> + He did not himself know, nor would it have been easy to decide, whether he + was jealous of all the people who flocked around Alphonse and drew him to + them, or whether he envied his friend’s popularity.—They began their + business prudently and energetically, and got on well. + </p> + <p> + It was generally held that each formed an admirable complement to the + other. Charles represented the solid, confidence-inspiring element, while + the handsome and elegant Alphonse imparted to the firm a certain lustre + which was far from being without value. + </p> + <p> + Every one who came into the counting-house at once remarked his handsome + figure, and thus it seemed quite natural that all should address + themselves to him. + </p> + <p> + Charles meanwhile bent over his work and let Alphonse be spokesman. When + Alphonse asked him about anything, he answered shortly and quietly without + looking up. + </p> + <p> + Thus most people thought that Charles was a confidential clerk, while + Alphonse was the real head of the house. + </p> + <p> + As Frenchmen, they thought little about marrying, but as young Parisians + they led a life into which erotics entered largely. + </p> + <p> + Alphonse was never really in his element except when in female society. + Then all his exhilarating amiability came into play, and when he leaned + back at supper and held out his shallow champagne-glass to be refilled, he + was as beautiful as a happy god. + </p> + <p> + He had a neck of the kind which women long to caress, and his soft, + half-curling hair looked as if it were negligently arranged, or carefully + disarranged, by a woman’s coquettish hand. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, many slim white fingers had passed through those locks; for + Alphonse had not only the gift of being loved by women, but also the yet + rarer gift of being forgiven by them. + </p> + <p> + When the friends were together at gay supper-parties, Alphonse paid no + particular heed to Charles. He kept no account of his own love-affairs, + far less of those of his friend. So it might easily happen that a beauty + on whom Charles had cast a longing eye fell into the hands of Alphonse. + </p> + <p> + Charles was used to seeing his friend preferred in life; but there are + certain things to which men can scarcely accustom themselves. He seldom + went with Alphonse to his suppers, and it was always long before the wine + and the general exhilaration could bring him into a convivial humor. + </p> + <p> + But then, when the champagne and the bright eyes had gone to his head, he + would often be the wildest of all; he would sing loudly with his harsh + voice, laugh and gesticulate so that his stiff black hair fell over his + forehead; and then the merry ladies shrank from him, and called him the + “chimney-sweep.”—As the sentry paces up and down in the beleaguered + fortress, he sometimes hears a strange sound in the silent night, as if + something were rustling under his feet. It is the enemy, who has + undermined the outworks, and to-night or to-morrow night there will be a + hollow explosion, and armed men will storm in through the breach. + </p> + <p> + If Charles had kept close watch over himself he would have heard strange + thoughts rustling within him. But he would not hear—he had only a + dim foreboding that some time there must come an explosion.—And one + day it came. + </p> + <p> + It was already after business hours; the clerks had all left the outer + office, and only the principals remained behind. + </p> + <p> + Charles was busily writing a letter which he wished to finish before he + left. + </p> + <p> + Alphonse had drawn on both his gloves and buttoned them. Then he had + brushed his hat until it shone, and now he was walking up and down and + peeping into Charles’s letter every time he passed the desk. + </p> + <p> + They used to spend an hour every day before dinner in a café on the great + Boulevard, and Alphonse was getting impatient for his newspapers. + </p> + <p> + “Will you never have finished that letter?” he said, rather irritably. + </p> + <p> + Charles was silent a second or two, then he sprang up so that his chair + fell over: “Perhaps Alphonse imagined that he could do it better? Did he + not know which of them was really the man of business?” And now the words + streamed out with that incredible rapidity of which the French language is + capable when it is used in fiery passion. + </p> + <p> + But it was a turbid stream, carrying with it many ugly expressions, + upbraidings and recriminations; and through the whole there sounded + something like a suppressed sob. + </p> + <p> + As he strode up and down the room, with clenched hands and dishevelled + hair, Charles looked like a little wiry-haired terrier barking at an + elegant Italian greyhound. At last he seized his hat and rushed out. + </p> + <p> + Alphonse had stood looking at him with great wondering eyes. When he was + gone, and there was once more silence in the room, it seemed as though the + air was still quivering with the hot words. Alphonse recalled them one by + one, as he stood motionless beside the desk. + </p> + <p> + “Did he not know which was the abler of the two?” Yes, assuredly! he had + never denied that Charles was by far his superior. + </p> + <p> + “He must not think that he would succeed in winning everything to himself + with his smooth face.” Alphonse was not conscious of ever having deprived + his friend of anything. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care for your <i>cocottes</i>,” Charles had said. + </p> + <p> + Could he really have been interested in the little Spanish dancer? If + Alphonse had only had the faintest suspicion of such a thing he would + never have looked at her. But that was nothing to get so wild about; there + were plenty of women in Paris. + </p> + <p> + And at last: “As sure as to-morrow comes, I will dissolve partnership!” + </p> + <p> + Alphonse did not understand it at all. He left the counting-house and + walked moodily through the streets until he met an acquaintance. That put + other thoughts into his head; but all day he had a feeling as if something + gloomy and uncomfortable lay in wait, ready to seize him so soon as he was + alone. + </p> + <p> + When he reached home, late at night, he found a letter from Charles. He + opened it hastily; but it contained, instead of the apology he had + expected, only a coldly-worded request to M. Alphonse to attend at the + counting-house early the next morning “in order that the contemplated + dissolution of partnership might be effected as quickly as possible.” + </p> + <p> + Now, for the first time, did Alphonse begin to understand that the scene + in the counting-house had been more than a passing outburst of passion; + but this only made the affair more inexplicable. + </p> + <p> + And the longer he thought it over, the more clearly did he feel that + Charles had been unjust to him. He had never been angry with his friend, + nor was he precisely angry even now. But as he repeated to himself all the + insults Charles had heaped upon him, his good-natured heart hardened; and + the next morning he took his place in silence, after a cold + “Good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + Although he arrived a whole hour earlier than usual, he could see that + Charles had been working long and industriously. There they sat, each on + his side of the desk; they spoke only the most indispensable words; now + and then a paper passed from hand to hand, but they never looked each + other in the face. + </p> + <p> + In this way they both worked—each more busily than the other—until + twelve o’clock, their usual luncheon-time. + </p> + <p> + This hour of déjeûner was the favorite time of both. Their custom was to + have it served in their office, and when the old house-keeper announced + that lunch was ready, they would both rise at once, even if they were in + the midst of a sentence or of an account. + </p> + <p> + They used to eat standing by the fireplace or walking up and down in the + warm, comfortable office. Alphonse had always some piquant stories to + tell, and Charles laughed at them. These were his pleasantest hours. + </p> + <p> + But that day, when Madame said her friendly “<i>Messieurs, on a servi</i>,” + they both remained sitting. She opened her eyes wide, and repeated the + words as she went out, but neither moved. + </p> + <p> + At last Alphonse felt hungry, went to the table, poured out a glass of + wine and began to eat his cutlet. But as he stood there eating, with his + glass in his hand, and looked round the dear old office where they had + spent so many pleasant hours, and then thought that they were to lose all + this and imbitter their lives for a whim, a sudden burst of passion, the + whole situation appeared to him so preposterous that he almost burst out + laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Charles,” he said, in the half-earnest, half-joking tone which + always used to make Charles laugh, “it will really be too absurd to + advertise: ‘According to an amicable agreement, from such and such a date + the firm of—‘” + </p> + <p> + “I have been thinking,” interrupted Charles, quietly, “that we will put: + ‘According to mutual agreement.’” + </p> + <p> + Alphonse laughed no more; he put down his glass, and the cutlet tasted + bitter in his mouth. + </p> + <p> + He understood that friendship was dead between them, why or wherefore he + could not tell; but he thought that Charles was hard and unjust to him. He + was now stiffer and colder than the other. + </p> + <p> + They worked together until the business of dissolution was finished; then + they parted. + </p> + <p> + A considerable time passed, and the two quondam friends worked each in his + own quarter in the great Paris. They met at the Bourse, but never did + business with each other. Charles never worked against Alphonse; he did + not wish to ruin him; he wished Alphonse to ruin himself. + </p> + <p> + And Alphonse seemed likely enough to meet his friend’s wishes in this + respect. It is true that now and then he did a good stroke of business, + but the steady industry he had learned from Charles he soon forgot. He + began to neglect his office, and lost many good connections. + </p> + <p> + He had always had a taste for dainty and luxurious living, but his + association with the frugal Charles had hitherto held his extravagances in + check. Now, on the contrary, his life became more and more dissipated. He + made fresh acquaintances on every hand, and was more than ever the + brilliant and popular Monsieur Alphonse; but Charles kept an eye on his + growing debts. + </p> + <p> + He had Alphonse watched as closely as possible, and, as their business was + of the same kind, could form a pretty good estimate of the other’s + earnings. His expenses were even easier to ascertain, and he, soon assured + himself of the fact that Alphonse was beginning to run into debt in + several quarters. + </p> + <p> + He cultivated some acquaintances about whom he otherwise cared nothing, + merely because through them he got an insight into Alphonse’s expensive + mode of life and rash prodigality. He sought the same cafés and + restaurants as Alphonse, but at different times; he even had his clothes + made by the same tailor, because the talkative little man entertained him + with complaints that Monsieur Alphonse never paid his bills. + </p> + <p> + Charles often thought how easy it would be to buy up a part of Alphonse’s + liabilities and let them fall into the hands of a grasping usurer. But it + would be a great injustice to suppose that Charles for a moment + contemplated doing such a thing himself. It was only an idea he was fond + of dwelling upon; he was, as it were, in love with Alphonse’s debts. + </p> + <p> + But things went slowly, and Charles became pale and sallow while he + watched and waited. + </p> + <p> + He was longing for the time when the people who had always looked down + upon him should have their eyes opened, and see how little the brilliant + and idolized Alphonse was really fit for. He wanted to see him humbled, + abandoned by his friends, lonely and poor; and then—! + </p> + <p> + Beyond that he really did not like to speculate; for at this point + feelings stirred within him which he would not acknowledge. + </p> + <p> + He <i>would</i> hate his former friend; he <i>would</i> have revenge for + all the coldness and neglect which had been his own lot in life; and every + time the least thought in defence of Alphonse arose in his mind he pushed + it aside, and said, like the old banker: “Sentiment won’t do for a + business man.” + </p> + <p> + One day he went to his tailor’s; he bought more clothes in these days than + he absolutely needed. + </p> + <p> + The nimble little man at once ran to meet him with a roll of cloth: “See, + here is the very stuff for you. Monsieur Alphonse has had a whole suit + made of it, and Monsieur Alphonse is a gentleman who knows how to dress.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not think that Monsieur Alphonse was one of your favorite + customers,” said Charles, rather taken by surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, <i>mon Dieu</i>!” exclaimed the little tailor, “you mean because I + have once or twice mentioned that Monsieur Alphonse owed me a few thousand + francs. It was very stupid of me to speak so. Monsieur Alphonse has not + only paid me the trifle he was owing, but I know that he has also + satisfied a number of other creditors. I have done <i>ce cher beau + monsieur</i> great injustice, and I beg you never to give him a hint of my + stupidity.” + </p> + <p> + Charles was no longer listening to the chatter of the garrulous tailor. He + soon left the shop, and went up the street quite absorbed in the one + thought that Alphonse had paid. + </p> + <p> + He thought how foolish it really was of him to wait and wait for the + other’s ruin. How easily might not the adroit and lucky Alphonse come + across many a brilliant business opening, and make plenty of money without + a word of it reaching Charles’s ears. Perhaps, after all, he was getting + on well. Perhaps it would end in people saying: “See, at last Monsieur + Alphonse shows what he is fit for, now that he is quit of his dull and + crabbed partner!” + </p> + <p> + Charles went slowly up the street with his head bent. Many people jostled + him, but he heeded not. His life seemed to him so meaningless, as if he + had lost all that he had ever possessed—or had he himself cast it + from him? Just then some one ran against him with more than usual + violence. He looked up. It was an acquaintance from the time when he and + Alphonse had been in the Crédit Lyonnais. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, good-day, Monsieur Charles!” cried he, “It is long since we met. Odd, + too, that I should meet you to-day. I was just thinking of you this + morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, may I ask?” said Charles, half-absently. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see, only to-day I saw up at the bank a paper—a bill for + thirty or forty thousand francs—bearing both your name and that of + Monsieur Alphonse. It astonished me, for I thought that you two—hm!—had + done with each other.” + </p> + <p> + “No, we have not quite done with each other yet,” said Charles, slowly. + </p> + <p> + He struggled with all his might to keep his face calm, and asked in as + natural a tone as he could command: “When does the bill fall due? I don’t + quite recollect.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow or the day after, I think,” answered the other, who was a + hard-worked business man, and was already in a hurry to be off. “It was + accepted by Monsieur Alphonse.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” said Charles; “but could you not manage to let <i>me</i> + redeem the bill to-morrow? It is a courtesy—a favor I am anxious to + do.” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure. Tell your messenger to ask for me personally at the bank + to-morrow afternoon. I will arrange it; nothing easier. Excuse me; I’m in + a hurry. Good-bye!” and with that he ran on——Next day Charles + sat in his counting-house waiting for the messenger who had gone up to the + bank to redeem Alphonse’s bill. + </p> + <p> + At last a clerk entered, laid a folded blue paper by his principal’s side, + and went out again. + </p> + <p> + Not until the door was closed did Charles seize the draft, look swiftly + round the room, and open it. He stared for a second or two at his name, + then lay back in his chair and drew a deep breath. It was as he had + expected—the signature was a forgery. + </p> + <p> + He bent over it again. For long he sat, gazing at his own name, and + observing how badly it was counterfeited. + </p> + <p> + While his sharp eye followed every line in the letters of his name, he + scarcely thought. His mind was so disturbed, and his feelings so strangely + conflicting, that it was some time before he became conscious how much + they betrayed—these bungling strokes on the blue paper. + </p> + <p> + He felt a strange lump in his throat, his nose began to tickle a little, + and, before he was aware of it, a big tear fell on the paper. + </p> + <p> + He looked hastily around, took out his pocket-handkerchief, and carefully + wiped the wet place on the bill. He thought again of the old banker in the + Rue Bergère. + </p> + <p> + What did it matter to him that Alphonse’s weak character had at last led + him to crime, and what had he lost? Nothing, for did he not hate his + former friend? No one could say it was his fault that Alphonse was ruined—he + had shared with him honestly, and never harmed him. + </p> + <p> + Then his thoughts turned to Alphonse. He knew him well enough to be sure + that when the refined, delicate Alphonse had sunk so low, he must have + come to a jutting headland in life, and be prepared to leap out of it + rather than let disgrace reach him. + </p> + <p> + At this thought Charles sprang up. That must not be. Alphonse should not + have time to send a bullet through his head and hide his shame in the + mixture of compassion and mysterious horror which follows the suicide. + Thus Charles would lose his revenge, and it would be all to no purpose + that he had gone and nursed his hatred until he himself had become evil + through it. Since he had forever lost his friend, he would at least expose + his enemy, so that all should see what a miserable, despicable being was + this charming Alphonse. + </p> + <p> + He looked at his watch; it was half-past four. Charles knew the café in + which he would find Alphonse at this hour; he pocketed the bill and + buttoned his coat. + </p> + <p> + But on the way he would call at a police-station, and hand over the bill + to a detective, who at a sign from Charles should suddenly advance into + the middle of the café where Alphonse was always surrounded by his friends + and admirers, and say loudly and distinctly so that all should hear it: + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Alphonse, you are charged with forgery.” + </p> + <p> + It was raining in Paris. The day had been foggy, raw, and cold; and well + on in the afternoon it had begun to rain. It was not a downpour—the + water did not fall from the clouds in regular drops—but the clouds + themselves had, as it were, laid themselves down in the streets of Paris + and there slowly condensed into water. + </p> + <p> + No matter how people might seek to shelter themselves, they got wet on all + sides. The moisture slid down the back of your neck, laid itself like a + wet towel about your knees, penetrated into your boots and far up your + trousers. + </p> + <p> + A few sanguine ladies were standing in the <i>portes cochères</i>, with + their skirts tucked up, expecting it to clear; others waited by the hour + in the omnibus stations. But most of the stronger sex hurried along under + their umbrellas; only a few had been sensible enough to give up the + battle, and had turned up their collars, stuck their umbrellas under their + arms, and their hands in their pockets. + </p> + <p> + Although it was early in the autumn it was already dusk at five o’clock. A + few gas-jets lighted in the narrowest streets, and in a shop here and + there, strove to shine out in the thick wet air. + </p> + <p> + People swarmed as usual in the streets, jostled one another off the + pavement, and ruined one another’s umbrellas. All the cabs were taken up; + they splashed along and bespattered the foot-passengers to the best of + their ability, while the asphalte glistened in the dim light with a dense + coating of mud. + </p> + <p> + The cafés were crowded to excess; regular customers went round and + scolded, and the waiters ran against each other in their hurry. Ever and + anon, amid the confusion, could be heard the sharp little ting of the bell + on the buffet; it was la <i>dame du comptoir</i> summoning a waiter, while + her calm eyes kept a watch upon the whole café. + </p> + <p> + A lady sat at the buffet of a large restaurant on the Boulevard + Sebastopol. She was widely known for her cleverness and her amiable + manners. + </p> + <p> + She had glossy black hair, which, in spite of the fashion, she wore parted + in the middle of her forehead in natural curls. Her eyes were almost black + and her mouth full, with a little shadow of a mustache. + </p> + <p> + Her figure was still very pretty, although, if the truth were known, she + had probably passed her thirtieth year; and she had a soft little hand, + with which she wrote elegant figures in her cash-book, and now and then a + little note. Madame Virginie could converse with the young dandies who + were always hanging about the buffet, and parry their witticisms, while + she kept account with the waiters and had her eye upon every corner of the + great room. + </p> + <p> + She was really pretty only from five till seven in the afternoon—that + being the time at which Alphonse invariably visited the café. Then her + eyes never left him; she got a fresher color, her mouth was always + trembling into a smile, and her movements became somewhat nervous. That + was the only time of the day when she was ever known to give a random + answer or to make a mistake in the accounts; and the waiters tittered and + nudged each other. + </p> + <p> + For it was generally thought that she had formerly had relations with + Alphonse, and some would even have it that she was still his mistress. + </p> + <p> + She herself best knew how matters stood; but it was impossible to be angry + with Monsieur Alphonse. She was well aware that he cared no more for her + than for twenty others; that she had lost him—nay, that he had never + really been hers. And yet her eyes besought a friendly look, and when he + left the café without sending her a confidential greeting, it seemed as + though she suddenly faded, and the waiters said to each other: “Look at + Madame; she is gray to-night”——Over at the windows it was + still light enough to read the papers; a couple of young men were amusing + themselves with watching the crowds which streamed past. Seen through the + great plate-glass windows, the busy forms gliding past one another in the + dense, wet, rainy air looked like fish in an aquarium. Farther back in the + café, and over the billiard-tables, the gas was lighted. Alphonse was + playing with a couple of friends. + </p> + <p> + He had been to the buffet and greeted Madame Virginie, and she, who had + long noticed how Alphonse was growing paler day by day, had—half in + jest, half in anxiety—reproached him with his thoughtless life. + </p> + <p> + Alphonse answered with a poor joke and asked for absinthe. + </p> + <p> + How she hated those light ladies of the ballet and the opera who enticed + Monsieur Alphonse to revel night after night at the gaming-table, or at + interminable suppers! How ill he had been looking these last few weeks! He + had grown quite thin, and the great gentle eyes had acquired a piercing, + restless look. What would she not give to be able to rescue him out of + that life that was dragging him down! She glanced in the opposite mirror + and thought she had beauty enough left. + </p> + <p> + Now and then the door opened and a new guest came in, stamped his feet and + shut his wet umbrella. All bowed to Madame Virginie, and almost all said, + “What horrible weather!” + </p> + <p> + When Charles entered he saluted shortly and took a seat in the corner + beside the fireplace. + </p> + <p> + Alphonse’s eyes had indeed become restless. He looked towards the door + every time any one came in; and when Charles appeared, a spasm passed over + his face and he missed his stroke. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Alphonse is not in the vein to-day,” said an onlooker. + </p> + <p> + Soon after a strange gentleman came in. Charles looked up from his paper + and nodded slightly; the stranger raised his eyebrows a little and looked + at Alphonse. + </p> + <p> + He dropped his cue on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, gentlemen, I’m not in the mood for billiards to-day,” said he, + “permit me to leave off. Waiter, bring me a bottle of seltzer-water and a + spoon—I must take my dose of Vichy salts.” + </p> + <p> + “You should not take so much Vichy salts, Monsieur Alphonse, but rather + keep to a sensible diet,” said the doctor, who sat a little way off + playing chess. + </p> + <p> + Alphonse laughed, and seated himself at the newspaper table. He seized the + <i>Journal Amusant</i>, and began to make merry remarks upon the + illustrations. A little circle quickly gathered round him, and he was + inexhaustible in racy stories and whimsicalities. + </p> + <p> + While he rattled on under cover of the others’ laughter, he poured out a + glass of seltzer-water and took from his pocket a little box on which was + written, in large letters, “Vichy Salts.” + </p> + <p> + He shook the powder out into the glass and stirred it round with a spoon. + There was a little cigar-ash on the floor in front of his chair; he + whipped it off with his pocket-handkerchief, and then stretched out his + hand for the glass. + </p> + <p> + At that moment he felt a hand on his arm. Charles had risen and hurried + across the room; he now bent down over Alphonse. + </p> + <p> + Alphonse turned his head towards him so that none but Charles could see + his face. At first he let his eyes travel furtively over his old friend’s + figure; then he looked up, and, gazing straight at Charles, he said, half + aloud, “Charlie!” + </p> + <p> + It was long since Charles had heard that old pet name. He gazed into the + well-known face, and now for the first time saw how it had altered of + late. It seemed to him as though he were reading a tragic story about + himself. + </p> + <p> + They remained thus for a second or two, and there glided over Alphonse’s + features that expression of imploring helplessness which Charles knew so + well from the old school days, when Alphonse came bounding in at the last + moment and wanted his composition written. + </p> + <p> + “Have you done with the <i>Journal Amusant</i>?” asked Charles, with a + thick utterance. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; pray take it,” answered Alphonse, hurriedly. He reached him the + paper, and at the same time got hold of Charles’s thumb. He pressed it and + whispered, “Thanks,” then—drained the glass. + </p> + <p> + Charles went over to the stranger who sat by the door: “Give me the bill.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t need our assistance, then?” + </p> + <p> + “No, thanks.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better,” said the stranger, handing Charles a folded blue + paper. Then he paid for his coffee and went.——Madame Virginie + rose with a little shriek: “Alphonse! Oh, my God! Monsieur Alphonse is + ill.” + </p> + <p> + He slipped off his chair; his shoulders went up and his head fell on one + side. He remained sitting on the floor, with his back against the chair. + </p> + <p> + There was a movement among those nearest; the doctor sprang over and knelt + beside him. When he looked in Alphonse’s face he started a little. He took + his hand as if to feel his pulse, and at the same time bent down over the + glass which stood on the edge of the table. + </p> + <p> + With a movement of the arm he gave it a slight push, so that it fell on + the floor and was smashed. Then he laid down the dead man’s hand and bound + a handkerchief round his chin. + </p> + <p> + Not till then did the others understand what had happened. “Dead? Is he + dead, doctor? Monsieur Alphonse dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Heart disease,” answered the doctor. + </p> + <p> + One came running with water, another with vinegar. Amid laughter and + noise, the balls could be heard cannoning on the inner billiard-table. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” some one whispered. “Hush!” was repeated; and the silence spread + in wider and wider circles round the corpse, until all was quite still. + </p> + <p> + “Come and lend a hand,” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + The dead man was lifted up; they laid him on a sofa in a corner of the + room, and the nearest gasjets were put out. + </p> + <p> + Madame Virginie was still standing up; her face was chalk-white, and she + held her little soft hand pressed against her breast. They carried him + right past the buffet. The doctor had seized him under the back, so that + his waistcoat slipped up and a piece of his fine white shirt appeared. + </p> + <p> + She followed with her eyes the slender, supple limbs she knew so well, and + continued to stare towards the dark corner. + </p> + <p> + Most of the guests went away in silence. A couple of young men entered + noisily from the street; a waiter ran towards them and said a few words. + They glanced towards the corner, buttoned their coats, and plunged out + again into the fog. + </p> + <p> + The half-darkened café was soon empty; only some of Alphonse’s nearest + friends stood in a group and whispered. The doctor was talking with the + proprietor, who had now appeared on the scene. + </p> + <p> + The waiters stole to and fro making great circuits to avoid the dark + corner. One of them knelt and gathered up the fragments of the glass on a + tray. He did his work as quietly as he could; but for all that it made too + much noise. + </p> + <p> + “Let that alone until by-and-by,” said the host, softly.—Leaning + against the chimney-piece, Charles looked at the dead man. He slowly tore + the folded paper to pieces, while he thought of his friend— + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A GOOD CONSCIENCE. + </h2> + <p> + An elegant little carriage, with two sleek and well-fed horses, drew up at + Advocate Abel’s garden gate. + </p> + <p> + Neither silver nor any other metal was visible in the harness; everything + was a dull black, and all the buckles were leather-covered. In the + lacquering of the carriage there was a trace of dark green; the cushions + were of a subdued dust-color; and only on close inspection could you + perceive that the coverings were of the richest silk. The coachman looked + like an English clergyman, in his close-buttoned black coat, with a little + stand-up collar and stiff white necktie. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Warden, who sat alone in the carriage, bent forward and laid her hand + upon the ivory door-handle; then she slowly alighted, drew her long train + after her, and carefully closed the carriage door. + </p> + <p> + You might have wondered that the coachman did not dismount to help her; + the fat horses certainly did not look as though they would play any tricks + if he dropped the reins. + </p> + <p> + But when you looked at his immovable countenance and his correct iron-gray + whiskers, you understood at once that this was a man who knew what he was + doing, and never neglected a detail of his duty. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Warden passed through the little garden in front of the house, and + entered the garden-room. The door to the adjoining room stood half open, + and there she saw the lady of the house at a large table covered with + rolls of light stuff and scattered numbers of the <i>Bazar</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you’ve come just at the right moment, my dear Emily!” cried Mrs. + Abel, “I’m quite in despair over my dress-maker—she can’t think of + anything new. And here I’m sitting, ransacking the <i>Bazar</i>. Take off + your shawl, dear, and come and help me; it’s a walking-dress.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid I’m scarcely the person to help you in a matter of dress,” + answered Mrs. Warden. + </p> + <p> + Good-natured Mrs. Abel stared at her; there was something disquieting in + her tone, and she had a vast respect for her rich friend. + </p> + <p> + “You remember I told you the other day that Warden had promised me—that’s + to say”—Mrs. Warden corrected herself—“he had asked me to + order a new silk dress—” + </p> + <p> + “From Madame Labiche—of course!”—interrupted Mrs. Abel. “And I + suppose you’re on your way to her now? Oh, take me with you! It will be + such fun!” + </p> + <p> + “I am not going to Madame Labiche’s,” answered Mrs. Warden, almost + solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious, why not?” asked her friend, while her good-humored brown + eyes grew spherical with astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you must know,” answered Mrs. Warden, “it seems to me we can’t with + a good conscience pay so much money for unnecessary finery, when we know + that on the outskirts of the town—and even at our very doors—there + are hundreds of people living in destitution—literally in + destitution.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but,” objected the advocate’s wife, casting an uneasy glance over + her table, “isn’t that the way of the world? We know that inequality—” + </p> + <p> + “We ought to be careful not to increase the inequality, but rather to do + what we can to smooth it away,” Mrs. Warden interrupted. And it appeared + to Mrs. Abel that her friend cast a glance of disapprobation over the + table, the stuffs, and the <i>Bazars</i>. + </p> + <p> + “It’s only alpaca,” she interjected, timidly. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens, Caroline!” cried Mrs. Warden, “pray don’t think that I’m + reproaching you. These things depend entirely upon one’s individual point + of view—every one must follow the dictates of his own conscience.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation continued for some time, and Mrs. Warden related that it + was her intention to drive out to the very lowest of the suburbs, in order + to assure herself, with her own eyes, of the conditions of life among the + poor. + </p> + <p> + On the previous day she had read the annual report of a private charitable + society of which her husband was a member. She had purposely refrained + from applying to the police or the poor-law authorities for information. + It was the very gist of her design personally to seek out poverty, to make + herself familiar with it, and then to render assistance. + </p> + <p> + The ladies parted a little less effusively than usual. They were both in a + serious frame of mind. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Abel remained in the garden-room; she felt no inclination to set to + work again at the walking-dress, although the stuff was really pretty. She + heard the muffled sound of the carriage-wheels as they rolled off over the + smooth roadway of the villa quarter. + </p> + <p> + “What a good heart Emily has,” she sighed. + </p> + <p> + Nothing could be more remote than envy from the good-natured lady’s + character; and yet—it was with a feeling akin to envy that she now + followed the light carriage with her eyes. But whether it was her friend’s + good heart or her elegant equipage that she envied her it was not easy to + say. She had given the coachman his orders, which he had received without + moving a muscle; and as remonstrance was impossible to him, he drove + deeper and deeper into the queerest streets in the poor quarter, with a + countenance as though he were driving to a Court ball. + </p> + <p> + At last he received orders to stop, and indeed it was high time. For the + street grew narrower and narrower, and it seemed as though the fat horses + and the elegant carriage must at the very next moment have stuck fast, + like a cork in the neck of a bottle. + </p> + <p> + The immovable one showed no sign of anxiety, although the situation was in + reality desperate. A humorist, who stuck his head out of a garret window, + went so far as to advise him to slaughter his horses on the spot, as they + could never get out again alive. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Warden alighted, and turned into a still narrower street; she wanted + to see poverty at its very worst. + </p> + <p> + In a door-way stood a half-grown girl. Mrs. Warden asked: “Do very poor + people live in this house?” + </p> + <p> + The girl laughed and made some answer as she brushed close past her in the + narrow door-way. Mrs. Warden did not understand what she said, but she had + an impression that it was something ugly. + </p> + <p> + She entered the first room she came to. + </p> + <p> + It was not a new idea to Mrs. Warden that poor people never keep their + rooms properly ventilated. Nevertheless, she was so overpowered by the + atmosphere she found herself inhaling that she was glad to sink down on a + bench beside the stove. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Warden was struck by something in the gesture with which the woman of + the house swept down upon the floor the clothes which were lying on the + bench, and in the smile with which she invited the fine lady to be seated. + She received the impression that the poor woman had seen better days, + although her movements were bouncing rather than refined, and her smile + was far from pleasant. + </p> + <p> + The long train of Mrs. Warden’s pearl-gray visiting dress spread over the + grimy floor, and as she stooped and drew it to her she could not help + thinking of an expression of Heine’s, “She looked like a bon-bon which has + fallen in the mire.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation began, and was carried on as such conversations usually + are. If each had kept to her own language and her own line of thought, + neither of these two women would have understood a word that the other + said. + </p> + <p> + But as the poor always know the rich much better than the rich know the + poor, the latter have at last acquired a peculiar dialect—a + particular tone which experience has taught them to use when they are + anxious to make themselves understood—that is to say, understood in + such a way as to incline the wealthy to beneficence. Nearer to each other + they can never come. + </p> + <p> + Of this dialect the poor woman was a perfect mistress, and Mrs. Warden had + soon a general idea of her miserable case. She had two children—a + boy of four or five, who was lying on the floor, and a baby at the breast. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Warden gazed at the pallid little creature, and could not believe + that it was thirteen months old. At home in his cradle she herself had a + little colossus of seven months, who was at least half as big again as + this child. + </p> + <p> + “You must give the baby something strengthening,” she said; and she had + visions of phosphate food and orange jelly. + </p> + <p> + At the words “something strengthening,” a shaggy head looked up from the + bedstraw; it belonged to a pale, hollow eyed man with a large woollen + comforter wrapped round his jaws. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Warden was frightened. “Your husband?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + The poor woman answered yes, it was her husband. He had not gone to work + to-day because he had such bad toothache. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Warden had had toothache herself, and knew how painful it is. She + uttered some words of sincere sympathy. + </p> + <p> + The man muttered something, and lay back again; and at the same moment + Mrs. Warden discovered an inmate of the room whom she had not hitherto + observed. + </p> + <p> + It was a quite young girl, who was seated in the corner at the other side + of the stove. She stared for a moment at the fine lady, but quickly drew + back her head and bent forward, so that the visitor could see little but + her back. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Warden thought the girl had some sewing in her lap which she wanted + to hide; perhaps it was some old garment she was mending. + </p> + <p> + “Why does the big boy lie upon the floor?” asked Mrs. Warden. + </p> + <p> + “He’s lame,” answered the mother. And now followed a detailed account of + the poor boy’s case, with many lamentations. He had been attacked with + hip-disease after the scarlet-fever. + </p> + <p> + “You must buy him—” began Mrs. Warden, intending to say, “a + wheel-chair.” But it occurred to her that she had better buy it herself. + It is not wise to let poor people get too much money into their hands. But + she would give the woman something at once. Here was real need, a genuine + case for help; and she felt in her pocket for her purse. + </p> + <p> + It was not there. How annoying—she must have left it in the + carriage. + </p> + <p> + Just as she was turning to the woman to express her regret, and promise to + send some money presently, the door opened, and a well-dressed gentleman + entered. His face was very full, and of a sort of dry, mealy pallor. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Warden, I presume?” said the stranger. “I saw your carriage out in + the street, and I have brought you this—your purse, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Warden looked at it—yes, certainly, it was hers, with E. W. + inlaid in black on the polished ivory. + </p> + <p> + “I happened to see it, as I turned the corner, in the hands of a girl—one + of the most disreputable in the quarter,” the stranger explained; adding, + “I am the poor-law inspector of the district.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Warden thanked him, although she did not at all like his appearance. + But when she again looked round the room she was quite alarmed by the + change which had taken place in its occupants. + </p> + <p> + The husband sat upright in the bed and glared at the fat gentleman, the + wife’s face wore an ugly smile, and even the poor wee cripple had + scrambled towards the door, and resting on his lean arms, stared upward + like a little animal. + </p> + <p> + And in all these eyes there was the same hate, the same aggressive + defiance. Mrs. Warden felt as though she were now separated by an immense + interval from the poor woman with whom she had just been talking so openly + and confidentially. + </p> + <p> + “So that’s the state you’re in to-day, Martin,” said the gentleman, in + quite a different voice. “I thought you’d been in that affair last night. + Never mind, they’re coming for you this afternoon. It’ll be a two months’ + business.” + </p> + <p> + All of a sudden the torrent was let loose. The man and woman shouted each + other down, the girl behind the stove came forward and joined in, the + cripple shrieked and rolled about. It was impossible to distinguish the + words; but what between voices, eyes, and hands, it seemed as though the + stuffy little room must fly asunder with all the wild passion exploding in + it. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Warden turned pale and rose, the gentleman opened the door, and both + hastened out. As she passed down the passage she heard a horrible burst of + feminine laughter behind her. It must be the woman—the same woman + who had spoken so softly and despondently about the poor children. + </p> + <p> + She felt half angry with the man who had brought about this startling + change, and as they now walked side by side up the street she listened to + him with a cold and distant expression. + </p> + <p> + But gradually her bearing changed; there was really so much in what he + said. + </p> + <p> + The poor-law inspector told her what a pleasure it was to him to find a + lady like Mrs. Warden so compassionate towards the poor. Though it was + much to be deplored that even the most well-meant help so often came into + unfortunate hands, yet there was always something fine and ennobling in + seeing a lady like Mrs. Warden— + </p> + <p> + “But,” she interrupted, “aren’t these people in the utmost need of help? I + received the impression that the woman in particular had seen better days, + and that a little timely aid might perhaps enable her to recover herself.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to have to tell you, madam,” said the poor-law inspector, in a + tone of mild regret, “that she was formerly a very notorious woman of the + town.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Warden shuddered. + </p> + <p> + She had spoken to such a woman, and spoken about children. She had even + mentioned her own child, lying at home in its innocent cradle. She almost + felt as though she must hasten home to make sure it was still as clean and + wholesome as before. + </p> + <p> + “And the young girl?” she asked, timidly. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt you noticed her—her condition.” + </p> + <p> + “No. You mean—” + </p> + <p> + The fat gentleman whispered some words. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Warden started: “By the man!—the man of the house?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madam, I am sorry to have to tell you so; but you can understand + that these people—” and he whispered again. + </p> + <p> + This was too much for Mrs. Warden. She turned almost dizzy, and accepted + the gentleman’s arm. They now walked rapidly towards the carriage, which + was standing a little farther off than the spot at which she had left it. + </p> + <p> + For the immovable one had achieved a feat which even the humorist had + acknowledged with an elaborate oath. + </p> + <p> + After sitting for some time, stiff as a poker, he had backed his sleek + horses, step by step, until they reached a spot where the street widened a + little, though the difference was imperceptible to any other eyes than + those of an accomplished coachman. + </p> + <p> + A whole pack of ragged children swarmed about the carriage, and did all + they could to upset the composure of the sleek steeds. But the spirit of + the immovable one was in them. + </p> + <p> + After having measured with a glance of perfect composure the distance + between two flights of steps, one on each side of the street, he made the + sleek pair turn, slowly and step by step, so short and sharp that it + seemed as though the elegant carriage must be crushed to fragments, but so + accurately that there was not an inch too much or too little on either + side. + </p> + <p> + Now he once more sat stiff as a poker, still measuring with his eyes the + distance between the steps. He even made a mental note of the number of a + constable who had watched the feat, in order to have a witness to appeal + to if his account of it should be received with scepticism at the stables. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Warden allowed the poor-law inspector to hand her into the carriage. + She asked him to call upon her the following day, and gave him her + address. + </p> + <p> + “To Advocate Abel’s!” she cried to the coachman. The fat gentleman lifted + his hat with a mealy smile, and the carriage rolled away. + </p> + <p> + As they gradually left the poor quarter of the town behind, the motion of + the carriage became smoother, and the pace increased. And when they + emerged upon the broad avenue leading through the villa quarter, the sleek + pair snorted with enjoyment of the pure, delicate air from the gardens, + and the immovable one indulged, without any sort of necessity, in three + masterly cracks of his whip. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Warden, too, was conscious of the delight of finding herself once + more in the fresh air. The experiences she had gone through, and, still + more, what she had heard from the inspector, had had an almost numbing + effect upon her. She began to realize the immeasurable distance between + herself and such people as these. + </p> + <p> + She had often thought there was something quite too sad, nay, almost + cruel, in the text: “Many are called, but few are chosen.” + </p> + <p> + Now she understood that it <i>could</i> not be otherwise. + </p> + <p> + How could people so utterly depraved ever attain an elevation at all + adequate to the demands of a strict morality? What must be the state of + these wretched creatures’ consciences? And how should they be able to + withstand the manifold temptations of life? + </p> + <p> + She knew only too well what temptation meant! Was she not incessantly + battling against a temptation—perhaps the most perilous of all—the + temptation of riches, about which the Scriptures said so many hard things? + </p> + <p> + She shuddered to think of what would happen if that brutish man and these + miserable women suddenly had riches placed in their hands. + </p> + <p> + Yes, wealth was indeed no slight peril to the soul. It was only yesterday + that her husband had tempted her with such a delightful little man-servant—a + perfect English groom. But she had resisted the temptation; and answered: + “No, Warden, it would not be right; I will not have a footman on the box. + I dare say we can afford it; but let us beware of overweening luxury. I + assure you I don’t require help to get into the carriage and out of it; I + won’t even let the coachman get down on my account.” + </p> + <p> + It did her good to think of this now, and her eyes rested complacently on + the empty seat on the box, beside the immovable one. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Abel, who was busy clearing away <i>Bazars</i> and scraps of stuff + from the big table, was astonished to see her friend return so soon. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Emily! Back again already? I’ve just been telling the dress-maker + that she can go. What you were saying to me has quite put me out of + conceit of my new frock; I can quite well get on without one—” said + good-natured Mrs. Abel; but her lips trembled a little as she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Every one must act according to his own conscience,” answered Mrs. + Warden, quietly, “but I think it’s possible to be too scrupulous.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Abel looked up; she had not expected this. + </p> + <p> + “Just let me tell you what I’ve gone through,” said Mrs. Warden, and began + her story. + </p> + <p> + She sketched her first impression of the stuffy room and the wretched + people; then she spoke of the theft of her purse. + </p> + <p> + “My husband always declares that people of that kind can’t refrain from + stealing,” said Mrs. Abel. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid your husband is nearer the truth than we thought,” replied + Mrs. Warden. + </p> + <p> + Then she told about the inspector, and the ingratitude these people had + displayed towards the man who cared for them day by day. + </p> + <p> + But when she came to what she had heard of the poor woman’s past life, and + still more when she told about the young girl, Mrs. Abel was so overcome + that she had to ask the servant to bring some port-wine. + </p> + <p> + When the girl brought in the tray with the decanter, Mrs. Abel whispered + to her: “Tell the dressmaker to wait.” + </p> + <p> + “And then, can you conceive it,” Mrs. Warden continued—“I scarcely + know how to tell you”—and she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “What do you say! In one bed! All! Why, it’s revolting!” cried Mrs. Abel, + clasping her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, an hour ago I; too, could not have believed it possible,” answered + Mrs. Warden, “But when you’ve been on the spot yourself, and seen with + your own eyes—” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens, Emily, how could you venture into such a place!” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad I did, and still more glad of the happy chance that brought the + inspector on the scene just at the right time. For if it is ennobling to + bring succor to the virtuous poor who live clean and frugal lives in their + humble sphere, it would be unpardonable to help such people as these to + gratify their vile proclivities.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you’re quite right, Emily! What I can’t understand is how people in + a Christian community—people who have been baptized and confirmed—can + sink into such a state! Have they not every day—or, at any rate, + every Sunday—the opportunity of listening to powerful and impressive + sermons? And Bibles, I am told, are to be had for an incredibly trifling + sum.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and only to think,” added Mrs. Warden, “that not even the heathen, + who are without all these blessings—that not even they have any + excuse for evil-doing; for they have conscience to guide them.” + </p> + <p> + “And I’m sure conscience speaks clearly enough to every one who has the + will to listen,” Mrs. Abel exclaimed, with emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, heaven knows it does,” answered Mrs. Warden, gazing straight before + her with a serious smile. + </p> + <p> + When the friends parted, they exchanged warm embraces. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Warden grasped the ivory handle, entered the carriage, and drew her + train after her. Then she closed the carriage door—not with a slam, + but slowly and carefully. + </p> + <p> + “To Madame Labiche’s!” she called to the coachman; then, turning to her + friend who had accompanied her right down to the garden gate, she said, + with a quiet smile: “Now, thank heaven, I can order my silk dress with a + good conscience.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed you can!” exclaimed Mrs. Abel, watching her with tears in her + eyes. Then she hastened in-doors. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ROMANCE AND REALITY. + </h2> + <h3> + “Just you get married as soon as you can,” said Mrs. Olsen. + </h3> + <p> + “Yes, I can’t understand why it shouldn’t be this very autumn,” exclaimed + the elder Miss Ludvigsen, who was an enthusiast for ideal love. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” cried Miss Louisa, who was certain to be one of the + bridesmaids. + </p> + <p> + “But Sören says he can’t afford it,” answered the bride elect, somewhat + timidly. + </p> + <p> + “Can’t afford it!” repeated Miss Ludvigsen. “To think of a young girl + using such an expression! If you’re going to let your new-born love be + overgrown with prosaic calculations, what will be left of the ideal halo + which love alone can cast over life? That a man should be alive to these + considerations I can more or less understand—it’s in a way his duty; + but for a sensitive, womanly heart, in the heyday of sentiment!—No, + no, Marie; for heaven’s sake, don’t let these sordid money-questions + darken your happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” cried Miss Louisa. + </p> + <p> + “And, besides,” Mrs. Olsen chimed in, “your <i>fiancé</i> is by no means + so badly off. My husband and I began life on much less.—I know + you’ll say that times were different then. Good heavens, we all know that! + What I can’t understand is that you don’t get tired of telling us so. + Don’t you think that we old people, who have gone through the transition + period, have the best means of comparing the requirements of to-day with + those of our youth? You can surely understand that with my experience of + house-keeping, I’m not likely to disregard the altered conditions of life; + and yet I assure you that the salary your intended receives from my + husband, with what he can easily earn by extra work, is quite sufficient + to set up house upon.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Olsen had become quite eager in her argument, though no one thought + of contradicting her. She had so often, in conversations of this sort, + been irritated to hear people, and especially young married women, + enlarging on the ridiculous cheapness of everything thirty years ago. She + felt as though they wanted to make light of the exemplary fashion in which + she had conducted her household. + </p> + <p> + This conversation made a deep impression on the <i>fiancée</i>, for she + had great confidence in Mrs. Olsen’s shrewdness and experience. Since + Marie had become engaged to the Sheriff’s clerk, the Sheriff’s wife had + taken a keen interest in her. She was an energetic woman, and, as her own + children were already grown up and married, she found a welcome outlet for + her activity in busying herself with the concerns of the young couple. + </p> + <p> + Marie’s mother, on the other hand, was a very retiring woman. Her husband, + a subordinate government official, had died so early that her pension + extremely scanty. She came of a good family, and had learned nothing in + her girlhood except to Play the piano. This accomplishment she had long + ceased to practise, and in the course of time had become exceedingly + religious.——“Look here, now, my dear fellow, aren’t you + thinking of getting married?” asked the Sheriff, in his genial way. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” answered Sören, with some hesitation, “when I can afford it. + </p> + <p> + “Afford it!” the Sheriff repeated; “Why, you’re by no means so badly off. + I know you have something laid by—” + </p> + <p> + “A trifle,” Sören put in. + </p> + <p> + “Well, so be it; but it shows, at any rate, that you have an idea of + economy, and that’s as good as money in your pocket. You came out high in + your examination; and, with your family influence and other advantages at + headquarters, you needn’t wait long before applying for some minor + appointment; and once in the way of promotion, you know, you go ahead in + spite of yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Sören bit his pen and looked interested. + </p> + <p> + “Let us assume,” continued his principal, “that, thanks to your economy, + you can set up house without getting into any debt worth speaking of. Then + you’ll have your salary clear, and whatever you can earn in addition by + extra work. It would be strange, indeed, if a man of your ability could + note find employment for his leisure time in a rising commercial centre + like ours.” + </p> + <p> + Sören reflected all forenoon on what the Sheriff had said. He saw, more + and more clearly, that he had over-estimated the financial obstacles to + his marriage; and, after all, it was true that he had a good deal of time + on his hands out of office hours. + </p> + <p> + He was engaged to dine with his principal; and his intended, too, was to + be there. On the whole, the young people perhaps met quite as often at the + Sheriff’s as at Marie’s home. For the peculiar knack which Mrs. Möller, + Marie’s mother, had acquired, of giving every conversation a religious + turn, was not particularly attractive to them. + </p> + <p> + There was much talk at table of a lovely little house which Mrs. Olsen had + discovered; “A perfect nest for a newly married couple,” as she expressed + herself. Sören inquired, in passing, as to the financial conditions, and + thought them reasonable enough, if the place answered to his hostess’s + description.—Mrs. Olsen’s anxiety to see this marriage hurried on + was due in the first place, as above hinted, to her desire for mere + occupation, and, in the second place, to a vague longing for some event, + of whatever nature, to happen—a psychological phenomenon by no means + rare in energetic natures, living narrow and monotonous lives. + </p> + <p> + The Sheriff worked in the same direction, partly in obedience to his + wife’s orders, and partly because he thought that Sören’s marriage to + Marie, who owed so much to his family, would form another tie to bind him + to the office—for the Sheriff was pleased with his clerk. + </p> + <p> + After dinner the young couple strolled about the garden. They conversed in + an odd, short-winded fashion, until at last Sören, in a tone which was + meant to be careless, threw out the suggestion: “What should you say to + getting married this autumn?” + </p> + <p> + Marie forgot to express surprise. The same thought had been running in her + own head; so she answered, looking to the ground: “Well, if you think you + can afford it, I can have no objection.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we reckon the thing out,” said Sören, and drew her towards the + summer-house. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour afterwards they came out, arm-in-arm, into the sunshine. + They, too, seemed to radiate light—the glow of a spirited + resolution, formed after ripe thought and serious counting of the cost. + </p> + <p> + Some people might, perhaps, allege that it would be rash to assume the + absolute correctness of a calculation merely from the fact that two lovers + have arrived at exactly the same total; especially when the problem + happens to bear upon the choice between renunciation and the supremest + bliss. + </p> + <p> + In the course of the calculation Sören had not been without misgivings. He + remembered how, in his student days, he had spoken largely of our duty + towards posterity; how he had philosophically demonstrated the egoistic + element in love, and propounded the ludicrous question whether people had + a right, in pure heedlessness as it were, to bring children into the + world. + </p> + <p> + But time and practical life had, fortunately, cured him of all taste for + these idle and dangerous mental gymnastics. And, besides, he was far too + proper and well-bred to shock his innocent lady-love by taking into + account so indelicate a possibility as that of their having a large + family. Is it not one of the charms of young love that it should leave + such matters as these to heaven and the stork? [Note: The stork, according + to common nursery legends, brings babies under its wing.] + </p> + <p> + There was great jubilation at the Sheriff’s, and not there alone. Almost + the whole town was thrown into a sort of fever by the intelligence that + the Sheriff’s clerk was to be married in the autumn. Those who were sure + of an invitation to the wedding were already looking forward to it; those + who could not hope to be invited fretted and said spiteful things; while + those whose case was doubtful were half crazy with suspense. And all + emotions have their value in a stagnant little town.—Mrs. Olsen was + a woman of courage; yet her heart beat as she set forth to call upon Mrs. + Möller. It is no light matter to ask a mother to let her daughter be + married from your house. But she might have spared herself all anxiety. + </p> + <p> + For Mrs. Möller shrank from every sort of exertion almost as much as she + shrank from sin in all its forms. Therefore she was much relieved by Mrs. + Olsen’s proposition, introduced with a delicacy which did not always + characterize that lady’s proceedings. However, it was not Mrs. Möller’s + way to make any show of pleasure or satisfaction. Since everything, in one + way or another, was a “cross” to be borne, she did not fail, even in this + case, to make it appear that her long-suffering was proof against every + trial. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Olsen returned home beaming. She would have been balked of half her + pleasure in this marriage if she had not been allowed to give the wedding + party; for wedding-parties were Mrs. Olsen’s specialty. On such occasions + she put her economy aside, and the satisfaction she felt in finding, an + opening for all her energies made her positively amiable. After all, the + Sheriff’s post was a good one, and the Olsens had always had a little + property besides, which, however, they never talked about. —So the + wedding came off, and a splendid wedding it was. Miss Ludvigsen had + written an unrhymed song about true love, which was sung at the feast, and + Louisa eclipsed all the other bridesmaids. + </p> + <p> + The newly-married couple took up their quarters in the nest discovered by + Mrs. Olsen, and plunged into that half-conscious existence of festal + felicity which the English call the “honeymoon,” because it is too sweet; + the Germans, “Flitterwochen,” because its glory departs so quickly; and we + “the wheat-bread days” because we know that there is coarser fare to + follow. + </p> + <p> + But in Sören’s cottage the wheat-bread days lasted long; and when heaven + sent them a little angel with golden locks, their happiness was as great + as we can by any means expect in this weary world. + </p> + <p> + As for the incomings—well, they were fairly adequate, though Sören + had, unfortunately, not succeeded in making a start without getting into + debt; but that would, no doubt, come right in time.—Yes, in time! + The years passed, and with each of them heaven sent Sören a little + golden-locked angel. After six years of marriage they had exactly five + children. The quiet little town was unchanged, Sören was still the + Sheriff’s clerk, and the Sheriff’s household was as of old; but Sören + himself was scarcely to be recognized. + </p> + <p> + They tell of sorrows and heavy blows of fate which can turn a man’s hair + gray in a night. Such afflictions had not fallen to Sören’s lot. The + sorrows that had sprinkled his hair with gray, rounded his shoulders, and + made him old before his time, were of a lingering and vulgar type. They + were bread-sorrows. + </p> + <p> + Bread-sorrows are to other sorrows as toothache to other disorders. A + simple pain can be conquered in open fight; a nervous fever, or any other + “regular” illness, goes through a normal development and comes to a + crisis. But while toothache has the long-drawn sameness of the tape-worm, + bread-sorrows envelop their victim like a grimy cloud: he puts them on + every morning with his threadbare clothes, and he seldom sleeps so deeply + as to forget them. + </p> + <p> + It was in the long fight against encroaching poverty that Sören had worn + himself out; and yet he was great at economy. + </p> + <p> + But there are two sorts of economy: the active and the passive. Passive + economy thinks day and night of the way to save a half-penny; active + economy broods no less intently on the way to earn a dollar. The first + sort of economy, the passive, prevails among us; the active in the great + nations—chiefly in America. + </p> + <p> + Sören’s strength lay in the passive direction. He devoted all his spare + time and some of his office-hours to thinking out schemes for saving and + retrenchment. But whether it was that the luck was against him, or, more + probably, that his income was really too small to support a wife and five + children—in any case, his financial position went from bad to worse. + </p> + <p> + Every place in life seems filled to the uttermost, and yet there are + people who make their way everywhere. Sören did not belong to this class. + He sought in vain for the extra work on which he and Marie had reckoned as + a vague but ample source of income. Nor had his good connections availed + him aught. There are always plenty of people ready to help young men of + promise who can help themselves; but the needy father of a family is never + welcome. + </p> + <p> + Sören had been a man of many friends. It could not be said that they had + drawn back from him, but he seemed somehow to have disappeared from their + view. When they happened to meet, there was a certain embarrassment on + both sides. Sören no longer cared for the things that interested them, and + they were bored when he held forth upon the severity of his daily grind, + and the expensiveness of living. + </p> + <p> + And if, now and then, one of his old friends invited him to a + bachelor-party, he did as people are apt to do whose every-day fare is + extremely frugal: he ate and drank too much. The lively but well-bred and + circumspect Sören declined into a sort of butt, who made rambling + speeches, and around whom the young whelps of the party would gather after + dinner to make sport for themselves. But what impressed his friends most + painfully of all, was his utter neglect of his personal appearance. + </p> + <p> + For he had once been extremely particular in his dress; in his student + days he had been called “the exquisite Sören.” And even after his marriage + he had for some time contrived to wear his modest attire with a certain + air. But after bitter necessity had forced him to keep every garment in + use an unnaturally long time, his vanity had at last given way. And when + once a man’s sense of personal neatness is impaired, he is apt to lose it + utterly. When a new coat became absolutely necessary, it was his wife that + had to awaken him to the fact; and when his collars became quite too + ragged at the edges, he trimmed them with a pair of scissors. + </p> + <p> + He had other things to think about, poor fellow. But when people came into + the office, or when he was entering another person’s house, he had a + purely mechanical habit of moistening his fingers at his lips, and rubbing + the lapels of his coat. This was the sole relic of “the exquisite Sören’s” + exquisiteness—like one of the rudimentary organs, dwindled through + lack of use, which zoologists find in certain animals.— + </p> + <p> + Sören’s worst enemy, however, dwelt within him. In his youth he had + dabbled in philosophy, and this baneful passion for thinking would now + attack him from time to time, crushing all resistance, and, in the end, + turning everything topsy-turvy. + </p> + <p> + It was when he thought about his children that this befell him. + </p> + <p> + When he regarded these little creatures, who, as he could not conceal from + himself, became more and more neglected as time went on, he found it + impossible to place them under the category of golden-locked angels had + sent him by heaven. He had to admit that heaven does not send us these + gifts without a certain inducement on our side; and then Sören asked + himself: “Had you any right to do this?” He thought of his own life, which + had begun under fortunate conditions. His family had been in easy + circumstances; his father, a government official, had given him the best + education to be had in the country; he had gone forth to the battle of + life fully equipped—and what had come of it all? + </p> + <p> + And how could he equip his children for the fight into which he was + sending them? They had begun their life in need and penury, which had, as + far as possible, to be concealed; they had early learned the bitter lesson + of the disparity between inward expectations and demands and outward + circumstances; and from their slovenly home they would take with them the + most crushing inheritance, perhaps, under which a man can toil through + life; to wit, poverty with pretensions. + </p> + <p> + Sören tried to tell himself that heaven would take care of them. But he + was ashamed to do so, for he felt it was only a phrase of self-excuse, + designed to allay the qualms of conscience. + </p> + <p> + These thoughts were his worst torment; but, truth to tell, they did not + often attack him, for Sören had sunk into apathy. That was the Sheriff’s + view of his case. “My clerk was quite a clever fellow in his time,” he + used to say. “But, you know, his hasty marriage, his large family, and all + that—in short, he has almost done for himself.” + </p> + <p> + Badly dressed and badly fed, beset with debts and cares, he was worn out + and weary before he had accomplished anything. And life went its way, and + Sören dragged himself along in its train. He seemed to be forgotten by all + save heaven, which, as aforesaid, sent him year by year a little angel + with locks of gold— + </p> + <p> + Sören’s young wife had clung faithfully to her husband through these six + years, and she, too, had reached the same point. + </p> + <p> + The first year of her married life had glided away like a dream of dizzy + bliss. When she held up the little golden-locked angel for the admiration + of her lady friends, she was beautiful with the beauty of perfect maternal + happiness; and Miss Ludvigsen said: “Here is love in its ideal form.” + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Olsen’s “nest” soon became too small; the family increased while + the income stood still. + </p> + <p> + She was daily confronted by new claims, new cares, and new duties. Marie + set staunchly to work, for she was a courageous and sensible woman. + </p> + <p> + It is not one of the so-called elevating employments to have charge of a + houseful of little children, with no means of satisfying even moderate + requirements in respect of comfort and well-being. In addition to this, + she was never thoroughly robust; she oscillated perpetually between having + just had, and being just about to have, a child. As she toiled from + morning to night, she lost her buoyancy of spirit, and her mind became + bitter. She sometimes asked herself: “What is the meaning of it all?” + </p> + <p> + She saw the eagerness of young girls to be married, and the air of + self-complacency with which young men offer to marry them; she thought of + her own experience, and felt as though she had been befooled. + </p> + <p> + But it was not right of Marie to think thus, for she had been excellently + brought up. + </p> + <p> + The view of life to which she had from the first been habituated, was the + only beautiful one, the only one that could enable her to preserve her + ideals intact. No unlovely and prosaic theory of existence had ever cast + its shadow over her development; she knew that love is the most beautiful + thing on earth, that it transcends reason and is consummated in marriage; + as to children, she had learned to blush when they were mentioned. + </p> + <p> + A strict watch had always been kept upon her reading. She had read many + earnest volumes on the duties of woman; she knew that her happiness lies + in being loved by a man, and that her mission is to be his wife. She knew + how evil-disposed people will often place obstacles between two lovers, + but she knew, too, that true love will at last emerge victorious from the + fight. When people met with disaster in the battle of life, it was because + they were false to the ideal. She had faith in the ideal, although she did + not know what it was. + </p> + <p> + She knew and loved those poets whom she was allowed to read. Much of their + erotics she only half understood, but that made it all the more lovely. + She knew that marriage was a serious, a very serious thing, for which a + clergyman was indispensable; and she understood that marriages are made in + heaven, as engagements are made in the ballroom. But when, in these + youthful days, she pictured to herself this serious institution, she + seemed to be looking into an enchanted grove, with Cupids weaving + garlands, and storks bringing little golden-locked angels under their + wings; while before a little cabin in the background, which yet was large + enough to contain all the bliss in the world, sat the ideal married + couple, gazing into the depths of each other’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + No one had ever been so ill-bred as to say to her: “Excuse me, young lady, + would you not like to come with me to a different point of view, and look + at the matter from the other side? How if it should turn out to be a mere + set-scene of painted pasteboard?” + </p> + <p> + Sören’s young wife had now had ample opportunities of studying the + set-scene from the other side. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Olsen had at first come about her early and late, and overwhelmed her + with advice and criticism. Both Sören and his wife were many a time + heartily tired of her; but they owed the Olsens so much. + </p> + <p> + Little by little, however, the old lady’s zeal cooled down. When the young + people’s house was no longer so clean, so orderly, and so exemplary that + she could plume herself upon her work, she gradually withdrew; and when + Sören’s wife once in a while came to ask her for advice or assistance, the + Sheriff’s lady would mount her high horse, until Marie ceased to trouble + her. But if, in society, conversation happened to fall upon the Sheriff’s + clerk, and any one expressed compassion for his poor wife, with her many + children and her miserable income, Mrs. Olsen would not fail to put in her + word with great decision: “I can assure you it would be just the same if + Marie had twice as much to live on and no children at all. You see, she’s—” + and Mrs. Olsen made a motion with her hands, as if she were squandering + something abroad, to right and left. + </p> + <p> + Marie seldom went to parties, and if she did appear, in her at least + ten-times-altered marriage dress, it was generally to sit alone in a + corner, or to carry on a tedious conversation with a similarly situated + housewife about the dearness of the times and the unreasonableness of + servant-girls. + </p> + <p> + And the young ladies who had gathered the gentlemen around them, either in + the middle of the room or wherever they found the most comfortable chairs + to stretch themselves in, whispered to each other: “How tiresome it is + that young married women can never talk about anything but housekeeping + and the nursery.” + </p> + <p> + In the early days, Marie had often had visits from her many friends. They + were enchanted with her charming house, and the little golden-locked angel + had positively to be protected from their greedy admiration. But when one + of them now chanced to stray in her direction, it was quite a different + affair. There was no longer any golden-locked angel to be exhibited in a + clean, embroidered frock with red ribbons. The children, who were never + presentable without warning, were huddled hastily away—dropping + their toys about the floor, forgetting to pick up half-eaten pieces of + bread-and-butter from the chairs, and leaving behind them that peculiar + atmosphere which one can, at most, endure in one’s own children. + </p> + <p> + Day after day her life dragged on in ceaseless toil. Many a time, when she + heard her husband bemoaning the drudgery of his lot, she thought to + herself with a sort of defiance: “I wonder which of us two has the harder + work?” + </p> + <p> + In one respect she was happier than her husband. Philosophy did not enter + into her dreams, and when she could steal a quiet moment for reflection; + her thoughts were very different from the cogitations of the poor + philosopher. + </p> + <p> + She had no silver plate to polish, no jewelry to take out and deck herself + with. But, in the inmost recess of her heart, she treasured all the + memories of the first year of her marriage, that year of romantic bliss; + and these memories she would furbish and furbish afresh, till they shone + brighter with every year that passed. + </p> + <p> + But when the weary and despondent housewife, in all secrecy, decked + herself out with these jewels of memory, they did not succeed in shedding + any brightness over her life in the present. She was scarcely conscious of + any connection between the golden-locked angel with the red ribbons and + the five-year-old boy who lay grubbing in the dark back yard. These + moments snatched her quite away from reality; they were like opium dreams. + </p> + <p> + Then some one would call for her from an adjoining room, or one of the + children would be brought in howling from the street, with a great bump on + its forehead. Hastily she would hide away her treasures, resume her + customary air of hopeless weariness, and plunge once more into her + labyrinth of duties and cares.—Thus had this marriage fared, and + thus did this couple toil onward. They both dragged at the same heavy + load; but did they drag in unison? It is sad, but it is true: when the + manger is empty, the horses bite each other.——There was a + great chocolate-party at the Misses Ludvigsen’s—all maiden ladies. + </p> + <p> + “For married women are so prosaic,” said the elder Miss Ludvigsen. + </p> + <p> + “Uh, yes!” cried Louisa. + </p> + <p> + Every one was in the most vivacious humor, as is generally the case in + such company and on such an occasion; and, as the gossip went the round of + the town, it arrived in time at Sören’s door. All were agreed that it was + a most unhappy marriage, and a miserable home; some pitied, others + condemned. + </p> + <p> + Then the elder Miss Ludvigsen, with a certain solemnity, expressed herself + as follows: “I can tell you what was at fault in that marriage, for I know + the circumstances thoroughly. Even before her marriage there was something + calculating, something almost prosaic in Marie’s nature, which is entirely + foreign to true, ideal love. This fault has since taken the upperhand, and + is avenging itself cruelly upon both of them. Of course their means are + not great, but what could that matter to two people who truly loved each + other? for we know that happiness is not dependent on wealth. Is it not + precisely in the humble home that the omnipotence of love is most + beautifully made manifest?—And, besides, who can call these two + poor? Has not heaven richly blessed them with healthy, sturdy children? + These—these are their true wealth! And if their hearts had been + filled with true, ideal love, then—then—” + </p> + <p> + Miss Ludvigsen came to a momentary standstill. + </p> + <p> + “What then?” asked a courageous young lady. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” continued Miss Ludvigsen, loftily, “then we should certainly have + seen a very different lot in life assigned to them.” + </p> + <p> + The courageous young lady felt ashamed of herself. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause, during which Miss Ludvigsen’s words sank deep into all + hearts. They all felt that this was the truth; any doubt and uneasiness + that might perhaps have lurked here and there vanished away. All were + confirmed in their steadfast and beautiful faith in true, ideal love; for + they were all maiden ladies. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WITHERED LEAVES. + </h2> + <p> + You <i>may</i> tire of looking at a single painting, but you <i>must</i> + tire of looking at many. That is why the eyelids grow so heavy in the + great galleries, and the seats are as closely packed as an omnibus on + Sunday. + </p> + <p> + Happy he who has resolution enough to select from the great multitude a + small number of pictures, to which he can return every day. + </p> + <p> + In this way you can appropriate—undetected by the custodians—a + little private gallery of your own, distributed through the great halls. + Everything which does not belong to this private collection sinks into + mere canvas and gilding, a decoration you glance at in passing, but which + does not fatigue the eye. + </p> + <p> + It happens now and then that you discover a picture, hitherto overlooked, + which now, after thorough examination, is admitted as one of the select + few. The assortment thus steadily increases, and it is even conceivable + that by systematically following this method you might make a whole + picture-gallery, in this sense, your private property. + </p> + <p> + But as a rule there is no time for that. You must rapidly take your + bearings, putting a cross in the catalogue against the pictures you think + of annexing, just as a forester marks his trees as he goes through the + wood. + </p> + <p> + These private collections, as a matter of course, are of many different + kinds. One may often search them in vain for the great, recognized + masterpieces, while one may find a little, unconsidered picture in the + place of honor; and in order to understand the odd arrangement of many of + these small collections, one must take as one’s cicerone the person whose + choice they represent. Here, now, is a picture from a private gallery.— + </p> + <p> + There hung in a corner of the Salon of 1878 a picture by the English + painter Mr. Everton Sainsbury. It made no sensation whatever. It was + neither large enough nor small enough to arouse idle curiosity, nor was + there a trace of modern extravagance either in composition or in color. + </p> + <p> + As people passed they gave it a sympathetic glance, for it made a + harmonious impression, and the subject was familiar and easily understood. + </p> + <p> + It represented two lovers who had slightly fallen out, and people smiled + as each in his own mind thought of those charming little quarrels which + are so vehement and so short, which arise from the most improbable and + most varied causes, but invariably end in a kiss. + </p> + <p> + And yet this picture attracted to itself its own special public; you could + see that it was adopted into several private collections. + </p> + <p> + As you made your way towards the well-known corner, you would often find + the place occupied by a solitary person standing lost in contemplation. At + different times, you would come upon all sorts of different people thus + absorbed; but they all had the same peculiar expression before that + picture, as if it cast a faded, yellowish reflection. + </p> + <p> + If you approached, the gazer would probably move away; it seemed as though + only one person at a time could enjoy that work of art—as though one + must be entirely alone with it.— + </p> + <p> + In a corner of the garden, right against the high wall, stands an open + summer-house. It is quite simply built of green lattice-work, which forms + a large arch backed by the wall. The whole summer-house is covered with a + wild vine, which twines itself from the left side over the arched roof, + and droops its slender branches on the right. + </p> + <p> + It is late autumn. The summer-house has already lost its thick roof of + foliage. Only the youngest and most delicate tendrils of the wild vine + have any leaves left. Before they fall, departing summer lavishes on them + all the color it has left; like light sprays of red and yellow flowers, + they hang yet a while to enrich the garden with autumn’s melancholy + splendor. + </p> + <p> + The fallen leaves are scattered all around, and right before the + summer-house the wind has with great diligence whirled the loveliest of + them together, into a neat little round cairn. + </p> + <p> + The trees are already leafless, and on a naked branch sits the little + garden-warbler with its rust-brown breast—like a withered leaf left + hanging—and repeats untiringly a little fragment which it remembers + of its spring-song. + </p> + <p> + The only thriving thing in the whole picture is the ivy; for ivy, like + sorrow, is fresh both summer and winter. + </p> + <p> + It comes creeping along with its soft feelers, it thrusts itself into the + tiniest chinks, it forces its way through the minutest crannies; and not + until it has waxed wide and strong do we realize that it can no longer be + rooted up, but will inexorably strangle whatever it has laid its clutches + on. + </p> + <p> + Ivy, however, is like well-bred sorrow; it cloaks its devastations with + fair and glossy leaves. Thus people wear a glossy mask of smiles, feigning + to be unaware of the ivy-clad ruins among which their lot is cast.— + </p> + <p> + In the middle of the open summer-house sits a young girl on a rush chair; + both hands rest in her lap. She is sitting with bent head and a strange + expression in her beautiful face. It is not vexation or anger, still less + is it commonplace sulkiness, that utters itself in her features; it is + rather bitter and crushing disappointment. She looks as if she were on the + point of letting something slip away from her which she has not the + strength to hold fast—as if something were withering between her + hands. + </p> + <p> + The man who is leaning with one hand upon her chair is beginning to + understand that the situation is graver than he thought. He has done all + he can to get the quarrel, so trivial in its origin, adjusted and + forgotten; he has talked reason, he has tried playfulness; he has besought + forgiveness, and humbled himself—perhaps more than he intended—but + all in vain. Nothing avails to arouse her out of the listless mood into + which she has sunk. + </p> + <p> + Thus it is with an expression of anxiety that he bends down towards her: + “But you know that at heart we love each other so much.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why do we quarrel so easily, and why do we speak so bitterly and + unkindly to each other?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear! the whole thing was the merest trifle from the first.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s just it! Do you remember what we said to each other? How we vied + with each other in trying to find the word we knew would be most wounding? + Oh, to think that we used our knowledge of each other’s heart to find out + the tenderest points, where an unkind word could strike home! And this we + call love!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, don’t take it so solemnly,” he answered, trying a lighter tone. + “People may be ever so fond of each other, and yet disagree a little at + times; it can’t be otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” she cried, “there must be a love for which discord is + impossible, or else—or else I have been mistaken, and what we call + love is nothing but—” + </p> + <p> + “Have no doubts of love!” he interrupted her, eagerly; and he depicted in + warm and eloquent words the feeling which ennobles humanity in teaching us + to bear with each other’s weaknesses; which confers upon us the highest + bliss, since, in spite of all petty disagreements, it unites us by the + fairest ties. + </p> + <p> + She had only half listened to him. Her eyes had wandered over the fading + garden, she had inhaled the heavy atmosphere of dying vegetation—and + she had been thinking of the spring-time, of hope, of that all-powerful + love which was now dying like an autumn flower. + </p> + <p> + “Withered leaves,” said she, quietly; and rising, she scattered with her + foot all the beautiful leaves which the wind had taken such pains to heap + together. + </p> + <p> + She went up the avenue leading to the house; he followed close behind her. + He was silent, for he found not a word to say. A drowsy feeling of uneasy + languor came over him; he asked himself whether he could overtake her, or + whether she were a hundred miles away. + </p> + <p> + She walked with her head bent, looking down at the flower-beds. There + stood the asters like torn paper flowers upon withered potato-shaws; the + dahlias hung their stupid, crinkled heads upon their broken stems, and the + hollyhocks showed small stunted buds at the top, and great wet, rotting + flowers clustering down their stalks. + </p> + <p> + And disappointment and bitterness cut deep into the young heart. As the + flowers were dying, she was ripening for the winter of life. + </p> + <p> + So they disappeared up the avenue. But the empty chair remained standing + in the half-withered summer-house, while the wind busied itself afresh in + piling up the leaves in a little cairn. + </p> + <p> + And in the course of time we all come—each in his turn—to seat + ourselves on the empty chair in a corner of the garden and gaze on a + little cairn of withered leaves.— + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. + </h2> + <p> + Since it is not only entertaining in itself, but also consonant with use + and wont, to be in love; and since in our innocent and moral society, one + can so much the more safely indulge in these amatory diversions as one + runs no risk of being disturbed either by vigilant fathers or pugnacious + brothers; and, finally, since one can as easily get out of as get into our + peculiarly Norwegian form of betrothal—a half-way house between + marriage and free board in a good family—all these things considered + I say, it was not wonderful that Cousin Hans felt profoundly unhappy. For + he was not in the least in love. + </p> + <p> + He had long lived in expectation of being seized by a kind of delirious + ecstasy, which, if experienced people are to be trusted, is the infallible + symptom of true love. But as nothing of the sort had happened, although he + was already in his second year at college, he said to himself: “After all, + love is a lottery if you want to win, you must at least table your stake. + ‘Lend Fortune a helping hand,’ as they say in the lottery advertisements.” + </p> + <p> + He looked about him diligently, and closely observed his own heart. + </p> + <p> + Like a fisher who sits with his line around his forefinger, watching for + the least jerk, and wondering when the bite will come, so Cousin Hans held + his breath whenever he saw a young lady, wondering whether he was now to + feel that peculiar jerk which is well known to be inseparable from true + love—that jerk which suddenly makes all the blood rush to the heart, + and then sends it just as suddenly up into the head, and makes your face + flush red to the very roots of your hair. + </p> + <p> + But never a bite came. His hair had long ago flushed red to the roots, for + Cousin Hans’s hair could not be called brown; but his face remained as + pale and as long as ever. + </p> + <p> + The poor fisherman was growing quite weary, when he one day strolled down + to the esplanade. He seated himself on a bench and observed, with a + contemptuous air, a squad of soldiers engaged in the invigorating exercise + of standing on one leg in the full sunshine, and wriggling their bodies so + as to be roasted on both sides. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” [Note: The English word is used in the original] said Cousin + Hans, indignantly; “it’s certainly too dear a joke for a little country + like ours to maintain acrobats of that sort. Didn’t I see the other day + that this so-called army requires 1500 boxes of shoe-blacking, 600 + curry-combs, 3000 yards of gold-lace and 8640 brass buttons?—It + would be better if we saved what we spend in gold-lace and brass buttons, + and devoted our half-pence to popular enlightenment,” said Cousin Hans. + </p> + <p> + For he was infected by the modern ideas, which are unfortunately beginning + to make way among us, and which will infallibly end in overthrowing the + whole existing fabric of society. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, then, for the present,” said a lady’s voice close behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye for the present, my dear,” answered a deep, masculine voice. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans turned slowly, for it was a warm day. He discovered a + military-looking old man in a close-buttoned black coat, with an order at + his buttonhole, a neck-cloth twisted an incredible number of times around + his throat, a well-brushed hat, and light trousers. The gentleman nodded + to a young lady, who went off towards the town, and then continued his + walk along the ramparts. + </p> + <p> + Weary of waiting as he was, Cousin Hans could not help following the young + girl with his eyes as she hastened away. She was small and trim, and he + observed with interest that she was one of the few women who do not make a + little inward turn with the left foot as they lift it from the ground. + </p> + <p> + This was a great merit in the young man’s eyes; for Cousin Hans was one of + those sensitive, observant natures who are alone fitted really to + appreciate a woman at her full value. + </p> + <p> + After a few steps the lady turned, no doubt in order to nod once again to + the old officer; but by the merest chance her eyes met those of Cousin + Hans. + </p> + <p> + At last occurred what he had so long been expecting: he felt the bite! His + blood rushed about just in the proper way, he lost his breath, his head + became hot, a cold shiver ran down his back, and he grew moist between the + fingers. In short, all the symptoms supervened which, according to the + testimony of poets and experienced prose-writers, betoken real, true, + genuine love. + </p> + <p> + There was, indeed, no time to be lost. He hastily snatched up his gloves, + his stick, and his student’s cap, which he had laid upon the bench, and + set off after the lady across the esplanade and towards the town. + </p> + <p> + In the great, corrupt communities abroad this sort of thing is not + allowable. There the conditions of life are so impure that a well-bred + young man would never think of following a reputable woman. And the few + reputable women there are in those nations, would be much discomposed to + find themselves followed. + </p> + <p> + But in our pure and moral atmosphere we can, fortunately, permit our young + people somewhat greater latitude, just on account of the strict propriety + of our habits. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans, therefore, did not hesitate a moment in obeying the voice of + his heart; and the young lady, who soon observed what havoc she had made + with the glance designed for the old soldier, felt the situation piquant + and not unpleasing. + </p> + <p> + The passers-by, who, of course, at once saw what was going on (be it + observed that this is one of the few scenes of life in which the leading + actors are quite unconscious of their audience), thought, for the most + part, that the comedy was amusing to witness. They looked round and smiled + to themselves; for they all knew that either it would lead to nothing, in + which case it was only the most innocent of youthful amusements; or it + would lead to an engagement, and an engagement is the most delightful + thing in the world. + </p> + <p> + While they thus pursued their course at a fitting distance, now on the + same sidewalk and now on opposite sides of the street, Cousin Hans had + ample time for reflection. + </p> + <p> + As to the fact of his being in love he was quite clear. The symptoms were + all there; he knew that he was in for it, in for real, true, genuine, + love; and he was happy in the knowledge. Yes, so happy was Cousin Hans + that he, who at other times was apt to stand upon his rights, accepted + with a quiet, complacent smile all the jostlings and shoves, the smothered + objurgations and other unpleasantnesses, which inevitably befall any one + who rushes hastily along a crowded street, keeping his eyes fixed upon an + object in front of him. + </p> + <p> + No—the love was obvious, indubitable. That settled, he tried to + picture to himself the beloved one’s, the heavenly creature’s, mundane + circumstances. And there was no great difficulty in that; she had been + walking with her old father, had suddenly discovered that it was past + twelve o’clock, and had hastily said good-bye for the present, in order to + go home and see to the dinner. For she was doubtless domestic, this sweet + creature, and evidently motherless. + </p> + <p> + The last conjecture was, perhaps, a result of the dread of mothers-in-law + inculcated by all reputable authors; but it was none the less confident on + that account. And now it only remained for Cousin Hans to discover, in the + first place, where she lived, in the second place who she was, and in the + third place how he could make her acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + Where she lived he would soon learn, for was she not on her way home? Who + she was, he could easily find out from the neighbors. And as for making + her acquaintance—good heavens! is not a little difficulty an + indispensable part of a genuine romance? + </p> + <p> + Just as the chase was at its height, the quarry disappeared into a + gate-way; and it was really high time, for, truth to tell, the hunter was + rather exhausted. + </p> + <p> + He read with a certain relief the number, “34,” over the gate, then went a + few steps farther on, in order to throw any possible observer off the + scent, and stopped beside a street-lamp to recover his breath. It was, as + aforesaid, a warm day; and this, combined with his violent emotion, had + thrown Hans into a strong perspiration. His toilet, too, had been + disarranged by the reckless eagerness with which he had hurled himself + into the chase. + </p> + <p> + He could not help smiling at himself, as he stood and wiped his face and + neck, adjusted his necktie, and felt his collar, which had melted on the + sunny side. But it was a blissful smile, he was in that frame of mind in + which one sees, or at any rate apprehends, nothing of the external world; + and he said to himself, half aloud, “Love endures everything, accepts + everything.” + </p> + <p> + “And perspires freely,” said a fat little gentleman whose white waistcoat + suddenly came within Cousin Hans’s range of vision. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is that you, uncle?” he said, a little abashed. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is,” answered Uncle Frederick. “I’ve left the shady side of + the street expressly to save you from being roasted. Come along with me.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon he tried to drag his nephew with him, but Hans resisted. “Do you + know who lives at No. 34, uncle?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least; but do let us get into the shade,” said Uncle + Frederick; for there were two things he could not endure: heat and + laughter—the first on account of his corpulence, and the second on + account of what he himself called “his apoplectic tendencies.” + </p> + <p> + “By-the-bye,” he said, when they reached the cool side of the street, and + he had taken his nephew by the arm, “now that I think of it, I do know, + quite well, who lives in No. 34; it’s old Captain Schrappe.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know him?” asked Cousin Hans, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a little, just as half the town knows him, from having seen him on + the esplanade, where he walks every day.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that was just where I saw him,” said his nephew. “What an + interesting old gentleman he looks. I should like so much to have a talk + with him.” + </p> + <p> + “That wish you can easily gratify,” answered Uncle Frederick. “You need + only place yourself anywhere on the ramparts and begin drawing lines in + the sand, then he’ll come to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Come to you?” said Cousin Hans. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he’ll come and talk to you. But you must be careful: he’s + dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” said Cousin Hans. + </p> + <p> + “He was once very nearly the end of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Cousin Hans. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, with his talk, you understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh?” said Cousin Hans. + </p> + <p> + “You see, he has two stories,” continued Uncle Frederick, “the one, about + a sham fight in Sweden, is a good half-hour long. But the other, the + battle of Waterloo, generally lasts from an hour and a half to two hours. + I have heard it three times.” And Uncle Frederick sighed deeply. + </p> + <p> + “Are they so very tedious, then, these stories? asked Cousin Hans. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they’re well enough for once in a way,” answered his uncle, “and if + you should get into conversation with the captain, mark what I tell you: + If you get off with the short story, the Swedish one, you have nothing to + do but alternately to nod and shake your head. You’ll soon pick up the lay + of the land.” + </p> + <p> + “The lay of the land?” said Cousin Hans. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you must know that he draws the whole manoeuvre for you in the sand; + but it’s easy enough to understand if only you keep your eye on A and B. + There’s only one point where you must be careful not to put your foot in + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he get impatient, then, if you don’t understand?” asked Cousin Hans. + </p> + <p> + “No, quite the contrary; but if you show that you’re not following, he + begins at the beginning again, you see! The crucial point in the sham + fight,” continued his uncle, “is the movement made by the captain himself, + in spite of the general’s orders, which equally embarrassed both friends + and foes. It was this stroke of genius, between ourselves, which forced + them to give him the Order of the Sword, to induce him to retire. So when + you come to this point, you must nod violently, and say: ‘Of course—the + only reasonable move—the key to the position.’ Remember that—the + key.” + </p> + <p> + “The key,” repeated Cousin Hans. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said his uncle, looking at him with anticipatory compassion, “if, + in your youthful love of adventure, you should bring on yourself the long + story, the one about Waterloo, you must either keep quite silent or have + all your wits about you. I once had to swallow the whole description over + again, only because, in my eagerness to show how thoroughly I understood + the situation, I happened to move Kellermann’s dragoons instead of + Milhaud’s cuirassiers!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by moving the dragoons, uncle?” asked Cousin Hans. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you’ll understand well enough, if you come in for the long one. But,” + added Uncle Frederick, in a solemn tone, “beware, I warn you, beware of + Blücher!” + </p> + <p> + “Blücher?” said Cousin Hans. + </p> + <p> + “I won’t say anything more. But what makes you wish to know about this old + original? What on earth do you want with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he walk there every forenoon?” asked Hans. + </p> + <p> + “Every forenoon, from eleven to one, and every afternoon, from five to + seven. But what interest—?” + </p> + <p> + “Has he many children?” interrupted Hans. + </p> + <p> + “Only one daughter; but what the deuce—?” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, uncle! I must get home to my books.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop a bit! Aren’t you going to Aunt Maren’s this evening? She asked me + to invite you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, thanks, I haven’t time,” shouted Cousin Hans, who was already several + paces away. + </p> + <p> + “There’s to be a ladies’ party—young ladies!” bawled Uncle + Frederick; for he did not know what had come over his nephew. + </p> + <p> + But Hans shook his head with a peculiar energetic contempt, and + disappeared round the corner. + </p> + <p> + “The deuce is in it,” thought Uncle Frederick, “the boy is crazy, or—oh, + I have it!—he’s in love! He was standing here, babbling about love, + when I found him—outside No. 34. And then his interest in old + Schrappe! Can he be in love with Miss Betty? Oh, no,” thought Uncle + Frederick, shaking his head, as he, too, continued on his way, “I don’t + believe he has sense enough for that.” + </p> + <p> + II. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans did not eat much dinner that day. People in love never eat + much, and, besides, he did not care for rissoles. + </p> + <p> + At last five o’clock struck. He had already taken up his position on the + ramparts, whence he could survey the whole esplanade. Quite right: there + came the black frock-coat, the light trousers, and the well-brushed hat. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans felt his heart palpitate a little. At first he attributed this + to a sense of shame in thus craftily setting a trap for the good old + captain. But he soon discovered that it was the sight of the beloved one’s + father that set his blood in a ferment. Thus reassured, he began, in + accordance with Uncle Frederick’s advice, to draw strokes and angles in + the sand, attentively fixing his eyes, from time to time, upon the Castle + of Akerhuus. + </p> + <p> + The whole esplanade was quiet and deserted. Cousin Hans could hear the + captain’s firm steps approaching; they came right up to him and stopped. + Hans did not look up; the captain advanced two more paces and coughed. + Hans drew a long and profoundly significant stroke with his stick, and + then the old fellow could contain himself no longer. + </p> + <p> + “Aha, young gentleman,” he said, in a friendly tone, taking off his hat, + “are you making a plan of our fortifications?” + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans assumed the look of one who is awakened from deep + contemplation, and, bowing politely, he answered with some embarrassment: + “No, it’s only a sort of habit I have of trying to take my bearings + wherever I may be.” + </p> + <p> + “An excellent habit, a most excellent habit,” the captain exclaimed with + warmth. + </p> + <p> + “It strengthens the memory,” Cousin Hans remarked, modestly. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, certainly, sir!” answered the captain, who was beginning to be + much pleased by this modest young man. + </p> + <p> + “Especially in situations of any complexity,” continued the modest young + man, rubbing out his strokes with his foot. + </p> + <p> + “Just what I was going to say!” exclaimed the captain, delighted. “And, as + you may well believe, drawings and plans are especially indispensable in + military science. Look at a battle-field, for example.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, battles are altogether too intricate for me,” Cousin Hans + interrupted, with a smile of humility. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t say that, sir!” answered the kindly old man. “When once you have a + bird’s-eye view of the ground and of the positions of the armies, even a + tolerably complicated battle can be made quite comprehensible.—This + sand, now, that we have before us here, could very well be made to give us + an idea, in miniature, of, for example, the battle of Waterloo.” + </p> + <p> + “I have come in for the long one,” thought Cousin Hans, “but never mind! + [Note: In English in the original.] I love her.” + </p> + <p> + “Be so good as to take a seat on the bench here,” continued the captain, + whose heart was rejoiced at the thought of so intelligent a hearer, “and I + shall try to give you in short outline a picture of that momentous and + remarkable battle—if it interests you?” + </p> + <p> + “Many thanks, sir,” answered Cousin Hans, “nothing could interest me more. + But I’m afraid you’ll find it terribly hard work to make it clear to a + poor, ignorant civilian.” + </p> + <p> + “By no means; the whole thing is quite simple and easy, if only you are + first familiar with the lay of the land,” the amiable old gentleman + assured him, as he took his seat at Hans’s side, and cast an inquiring + glance around. + </p> + <p> + While they were thus seated, Cousin Hans examined the captain more + closely, and he could not but admit that in spite of his sixty years, + Captain Schrappe was still a handsome man. He wore his short, iron-gray + mustaches a little turned up at the ends, which gave him a certain air of + youthfulness. On the whole, he bore a strong resemblance to King Oscar the + First on the old sixpenny-pieces. + </p> + <p> + And as the captain rose and began his dissertation, Cousin Hans decided in + his own mind that he had every reason to be satisfied with his future + father-in-law’s exterior. + </p> + <p> + The captain took up a position in a corner of the ramparts, a few paces + from the bench, whence he could point all around him with a stick. Cousin + Hans followed what he said, closely, and took all possible trouble to + ingratiate himself with his future father-in-law. + </p> + <p> + “We will suppose, then, that I am standing here at the farm of + Belle-Alliance, where the Emperor has his headquarters; and to the + north-fourteen miles from Waterloo—we have Brussels, that is to say, + just about at the corner of the gymnastic-school. + </p> + <p> + “The road there along the rampart is the highway leading to Brussels, and + here,” the captain rushed over the plain of Waterloo, “here in the grass + we have the Forest of Soignies. On the highway to Brussels, and in front + of the forest, the English are stationed—you must imagine the + northern part of the battle-field somewhat higher than it is here. On + Wellington’s left wing, that is to say, to the eastward—here in the + grass—we have the Château of Hougoumont; that must be marked,” said + the captain, looking about him. + </p> + <p> + The serviceable Cousin Hans at once found a stick, which was fixed in the + ground at this important point. + </p> + <p> + “Excellent!” cried the captain, who saw that he had found an interested + and imaginative listener. “You see it’s from this side that we have to + expect the Prussians.” + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans noticed that the captain picked up a stone and placed it in + the grass with an air of mystery. + </p> + <p> + “Here at Hougoumont,” the old man continued, “the battle began. It was + Jerome who made the first attack. He took the wood; but the château held + out, garrisoned by Wellington’s best troops. + </p> + <p> + “In the mean time Napoleon, here at Belle-Alliance, was on the point of + giving Marshal Ney orders to commence the main attack upon Wellington’s + centre, when he observed a column of troops approaching from the east, + behind the bench, over there by tree.” + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans looked round, and began to feel uneasy: could Blücher be here + already? + </p> + <p> + “Blü—Blü—” he murmured, tentatively. + </p> + <p> + “It was Bülow,” the captain fortunately went on, “who approached with + thirty thousand Prussians. Napoleon made his arrangements hastily to meet + this new enemy, never doubting that Grouchy, at any rate, was following + close on the Prussians’ heels. + </p> + <p> + “You see, the Emperor had on the previous day detached Marshal Grouchy + with the whole right wing of the army, about fifty thousand men, to hold + Blücher and Bülow in check. But Grouchy—but of course all this is + familiar to you—” the captain broke off. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans nodded reassuringly. + </p> + <p> + “Ney, accordingly, began the attack with his usual intrepidity. But the + English cavalry hurled themselves upon the Frenchmen, broke their ranks, + and forced them back with the loss of two eagles and several cannons. + Milhaud rushes to the rescue with his cuirassiers, and the Emperor + himself, seeing the danger, puts spurs to his horse and gallops down the + incline of Belle-Alliance.” + </p> + <p> + Away rushed the captain, prancing like a horse, in his eagerness to show + how the Emperor rode through thick and thin, rallied Ney’s troops, and + sent them forward to a fresh attack. + </p> + <p> + Whether it was that there lurked a bit of the poet in Cousin Hans, or that + the captain’s representation was really very vivid, or that—and this + is probably the true explanation—he was in love with the captain’s + daughter, certain it is that Cousin Hans was quite carried away by the + situation. + </p> + <p> + He no longer saw a queer old captain prancing sideways; he saw, through + the cloud of smoke, the Emperor himself on his white horse with the black + eyes, as we know it from the engravings. He tore away over hedge and + ditch, over meadow and garden, his staff with difficulty keeping up with + him. Cool and calm, he sat firmly in his saddle, with his half-unbuttoned + gray coat, his white breeches, and his little hat, crosswise on his head. + His face expressed neither weariness nor anxiety; smooth and pale as + marble, it gave to the whole figure in the simple uniform on the white + horse an exalted, almost a spectral, aspect. + </p> + <p> + Thus he swept on his course, this sanguinary little monster, who in three + days had fought three battles. All hastened to clear the way for him, + flying peasants, troops in reserve or advancing—aye, even the + wounded and dying dragged themselves aside, and looked up at him with a + mixture of terror and admiration, as he tore past them like a cold + thunderbolt. + </p> + <p> + Scarcely had he shown himself among the soldiers before they all fell into + order as though by magic, and a moment afterwards the undaunted Ney could + once more vault into the saddle to renew the attack. And this time he bore + down the English and established himself in the farm-house of La + Haie-Sainte. + </p> + <p> + Napoleon is once more at Belle-Alliance. + </p> + <p> + “And now here comes Bülow from the east—under the bench here, you + see—and the Emperor sends General Mouton to meet him. At half-past + four (the battle had begun at one o’clock) Wellington attempts to drive + Ney out of La Haie-Sainte. But Ney, who now saw that everything depended + on obtaining possession of the ground in front of the wood—the sand + here by the border of the grass,” the captain threw his glove over to the + spot indicated, “Ney, you see, calls up the reserve brigade of Milhaud’s + cuirassiers and hurls himself at the enemy. + </p> + <p> + “Presently his men were seen upon the heights, and already the people + around the Emperor were shouting ‘Victoire!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘It is an hour too late,’ answered Napoleon. + </p> + <p> + “As he now saw that the Marshal in his new position was suffering much + from the enemy’s fire, he determined to go to his assistance, and, at the + same time, to try to crush Wellington at one blow. He chose for the + execution of this plan, Kellermann’s famous dragoons and the heavy cavalry + of the guard. Now comes one of the crucial moments of the fight; you must + come out here upon the battle-field!” + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans at once rose from the bench and took the position the captain + pointed out to him. + </p> + <p> + “Now you are Wellington!” Cousin Hans drew himself up. “You are standing + there on the plain with the greater part of the English infantry. Here + comes the whole of the French cavalry rushing down upon you. Milhaud has + joined Kellermann; they form an illimitable multitude of horses, + breastplates, plumes and shining weapons. Surround yourself with a + square!” + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans stood for a moment bewildered; but presently he understood the + captain’s meaning. He hastily drew a square of deep strokes around him in + the sand. + </p> + <p> + “Right!” cried the captain, beaming, “Now the Frenchmen cut into the + square; the ranks break, but join again, the cavalry wheels away and + gathers for a fresh attack. Wellington has at every moment to surround + himself with a new square. + </p> + <p> + “The French cavalry fight like lions: the proud memories of the Emperor’s + campaigns fill them with that confidence of victory which made his armies + invincible. They fight for victory, for glory, for the French eagles, and + for the little cold man who, they know, stands on the height behind them; + whose eye follows every single man, who sees all, and forgets nothing. + </p> + <p> + “But to-day they have an enemy who is not easy to deal with. They stand + where they stand, these Englishmen, and if they are forced a step + backwards, they regain their position the next moment. They have no eagles + and no Emperor; when they fight they think neither of military glory nor + of revenge; but they think of home. The thought of never seeing again the + oak-trees of Old England is the most melancholy an Englishman knows. Ah, + no, there is one which is still worse: that of coming home dishonored. And + when they think that the proud fleet, which they know is lying to the + northward waiting for them, would deny them the honor of a salute, and + that Old England would not recognize her sons—then they grip their + muskets tighter, they forget their wounds and their flowing blood; silent + and grim, they clinch their teeth, and hold their post, and die like men.” + </p> + <p> + Twenty times were the squares broken and reformed, and twelve thousand + brave Englishmen fell. Cousin Hans could understand how Wellington wept, + when he said, “Night or Blücher!” + </p> + <p> + The captain had in the mean time left Belle-Alliance, and was spying + around in the grass behind the bench, while he continued his exposition + which grew more and more vivid: “Wellington was now in reality beaten and + a total defeat was inevitable,” cried the captain, in a sombre voice, + “when this fellow appeared on the scene!” And as he said this, he kicked + the stone which Cousin Hans had seen him concealing, so that it rolled in + upon the field of battle. + </p> + <p> + “Now or never,” thought Cousin Hans. + </p> + <p> + “Blücher!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly!” answered the captain, “it’s the old werewolf Blücher, who comes + marching upon the field with his Prussians.” + </p> + <p> + So Grouchy never came; there was Napoleon, deprived of his whole right + wing, and facing 150,000 men. But with never failing coolness he gives his + orders for a great change of front. + </p> + <p> + But it was too late, and the odds were too vast. + </p> + <p> + Wellington, who, by Blücher’s arrival, was enabled to bring his reserve + into play, now ordered his whole army to advance. And yet once more the + Allies were forced to pause for a moment by a furious charge led by Ney—the + lion of the day. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see him there!” cried the captain, his eyes flashing. + </p> + <p> + And Cousin Hans saw him, the romantic hero, Duke of Elchingen, Prince of + Moskwa, son of a cooper in Saarlouis, Marshal and Peer of France. He saw + him rush onward at the head of his battalions—five horses had been + shot under him with his sword in his hand, his uniform torn to shreds, + hatless, and with the blood streaming down his face. + </p> + <p> + And the battalions rallied and swept ahead; they followed their Prince of + Moskwa, their savior at the Beresina, into the hopeless struggle for the + Emperor and for France. Little did they dream that, six months later, the + King of France would have their dear prince shot as a traitor to his + country in the gardens of the Luxembourg. + </p> + <p> + There he rushed around, rallying and directing his troops, until there was + nothing more for the general to do; then he plied his sword like a common + soldier until all was over, and he was carried away in the rout. For the + French army fled. + </p> + <p> + The Emperor threw himself into the throng; but the terrible hubbub drowned + his voice, and in the twilight no one knew the little man on the white + horse. + </p> + <p> + Then he took his stand in a little square of his Old Guard, which still + held out upon the plain; he would fain have ended his life on his last + battlefield. But his generals flocked around him, and the old grenadiers + shouted: “Withdraw, Sire! Death will not have you.” + </p> + <p> + They did not know that it was because the <i>Emperor</i> had forfeited his + right to die as a French soldier. They led him half-resisting from the + field; and, unknown in his own army, he rode away into the darkness of the + night, having lost everything. “So ended the battle of Waterloo,” said the + captain, as he seated himself on the bench and arranged his neck-cloth.—Cousin + Hans thought with indignation of Uncle Frederick, who had spoken of + Captain Schrappe in such a tone of superiority. He was, at least, a far + more interesting personage than an old official mill-horse like Uncle + Frederick. + </p> + <p> + Hans now went about and gathered up the gloves and other small objects + which the generals, in the heat of the fight, had scattered over the + battle-field to mark the positions; and, as he did so, he stumbled upon + old Blücher. He picked him up and examined him carefully. + </p> + <p> + He was a hard lump of granite, knubbly as sugar-candy, which almost seemed + to bear a personal resemblance to “Feldtmarschall Vorwärts.” Hans turned + to the captain with a polite bow. + </p> + <p> + “Will you allow me, captain, to keep this stone. It will be the best + possible memento of this interesting and instructive conversation, for + which I am really most grateful to you.” And thereupon he put Blücher into + his coat-tail pocket. + </p> + <p> + The captain assured him that it had been a real pleasure to him to observe + the interest with which his young friend had followed the exposition. And + this was nothing but the truth, for he was positively enraptured with + Cousin Hans. + </p> + <p> + “Come and sit down now, young man. We deserve a little rest after a + ten-hours’ battle,” he added, smiling. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans seated himself on the bench and felt his collar with some + anxiety. Before coming out, he had put on the most fascinating one his + wardrobe afforded. Fortunately, it had retained its stiffness; but he felt + the force of Wellington’s words: “Night or Blücher”—for it would not + have held out much longer. + </p> + <p> + It was fortunate, too, that the warm afternoon sun had kept strollers away + from the esplanade. Otherwise a considerable audience would probably have + gathered around these two gentlemen, who went on gesticulating with their + arms, and now and then prancing around. + </p> + <p> + They had had only one on-looker—the sentry who stands at the corner + of the gymnastic-school. + </p> + <p> + His curiosity had enticed him much too far from his post, for he had + marched several leagues along the highway from Brussels to Waterloo. The + captain would certainly have called him to order long ago for this + dereliction of duty but for the fact that the inquisitive private had been + of great strategic importance. He represented, as he stood there, the + whole of Wellington’s reserve; and now that the battle was over the + reserve retired in good order northward towards Brussels, and again took + up <i>le poste perdu</i> at the corner of the gymnastic-school. + </p> + <p> + III. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you come home and have some supper with me,” said the captain; + “my house is very quiet, but I think perhaps a young man of your character + may have no great objection to passing an evening in a quiet family.” + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans’s heart leaped high with joy; he accepted the invitation in + the modest manner peculiar to him, and they were soon on the way to No. + 34. + </p> + <p> + How curiously fortune favored him to-day! Not many hours had passed since + he saw her for the first time; and now, in the character of a special + favorite of her father, he was hastening to pass the evening in her + company. + </p> + <p> + The nearer they approached to No. 34, in the more life-like colors did the + enchanting vision of Miss Schrappe stand before his eyes; the blonde hair + curling over the forehead, the lithe figure, and then these roguish, + light-blue eyes! + </p> + <p> + His heart beat so that he could scarcely speak, and as they mounted the + stair he had to take firm hold of the railing; his happiness made him + almost dizzy. + </p> + <p> + In the parlor, a large corner-room, they found no one. The captain went + out to summon his daughter, and Hans heard him calling, “Betty!” + </p> + <p> + Betty! What a lovely name, and how well it suited that lovely being! + </p> + <p> + The happy lover was already thinking how delightful it would be when he + came home from his work at dinner-time, and could call out into the + kitchen: “Betty! is dinner ready?” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the captain entered the room again with his daughter. She + came straight up to Cousin Hans, took his hand, and bade him welcome. + </p> + <p> + But she added, “You must really excuse me deserting you again at once, for + I am in the middle of a dish of buttered eggs, and that’s no joke, I can + tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon she disappeared again; the captain also withdrew to prepare for + the meal, and Cousin Hans was once more alone. + </p> + <p> + The whole meeting had not lasted many seconds, and yet it seemed to Cousin + Hans that in these moments he had toppled from ledge to ledge, many + fathoms down, into a deep, black pit. He supported himself with both hands + against an old, high-backed easy-chair; he neither heard, saw, nor + thought; but half mechanically he repeated to himself: “It was not she—it + was not she!” + </p> + <p> + No, it was not she. The lady whom he had just seen, and who must + consequently be Miss Schrappe, had not a trace of blonde hair curling over + her brow. On the contrary, she had dark hair, smoothed down to both sides. + Her eyes were not in the least roguish or light blue, but serious and + dark-gray—in short, she was as unlike the charmer as possible. + </p> + <p> + After his first paralysis, Cousin Hans’s blood began to boil; a violent + anguish seized him: he raged against the captain, against Miss Schrappe, + against Uncle Frederick and Wellington, and the whole world. + </p> + <p> + He would smash the big mirror and all the furniture, and then jump out of + the corner window; or he would take his hat and stick, rush down-stairs, + leave the house, and never more set foot in it; or he would at least + remain no longer than was absolutely necessary. + </p> + <p> + Little by little he became calmer, but a deep melancholy descended upon + him. He had felt the unspeakable agony of disappointment in his first + love, and when his eye fell on his own image in the mirror, he shook his + head compassionately. + </p> + <p> + The captain now returned, well-brushed and spick and span. He opened a + conversation about the politics of the day. It was with difficulty that + Cousin Hans could even give short and commonplace answers; it seemed as + though all that had interested him in Captain Schrappe had entirely + evaporated. And now Hans remembered that on the way home from the + esplanade he had promised to give him the whole sham fight in Sweden after + supper. + </p> + <p> + “Will you come, please; supper is ready,” said Miss Betty, opening the + door into the dining-room, which was lighted with candles. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans could not help eating, for he was hungry; but he looked down + at his plate and spoke little. + </p> + <p> + Thus the conversation was at first confined for the most part to the + father and daughter. The captain, who thought that this bashful young man + was embarrassed by Miss Betty’s presence, wanted to give him time to + collect himself. + </p> + <p> + “How is it you haven’t invited Miss Beck this evening, since she’s leaving + town to-morrow,” said the old man. “You two could have entertained our + guest with some duets.” + </p> + <p> + “I asked her to stay, when she was here this afternoon; but she was + engaged to a farewell party with some other people she knows.” + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans pricked up his ears; could this be the lady of the morning + that they were speaking about? + </p> + <p> + “I told you she came down to the esplanade to say good-bye to me,” + continued the captain. “Poor girl! I’m really sorry for her.” + </p> + <p> + There could no longer be any doubt. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon—are you speaking of a lady with curly hair and + large blue eyes?” asked Cousin Hans. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” answered the captain, “do you know Miss Beck?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Hans, “it only occurred to me that it might be a lady I met + down on the esplanade about twelve o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt it was she” said the captain. “A pretty girl, isn’t she?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought her beautiful,” answered Hans, with conviction. “Has she had + any trouble?—I thought I heard you say—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes; you see she was engaged for some months”— + </p> + <p> + “Nine weeks,” interrupted Miss Betty. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! was that all? At any rate her <i>fiancé</i> has just broken off + the engagement, and that’s why she is going away for a little while—very + naturally—to some relations in the west-country, I think.” + </p> + <p> + So she had been engaged—only for nine weeks, indeed—but still, + it was a little disappointing. However, Cousin Hans understood human + nature, and he had seen enough of her that morning to know that her + feelings towards her recreant lover could not have been true love. So he + said: + </p> + <p> + “If it’s the lady I saw to-day, she seemed to take the matter pretty + lightly.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s just what I blame her for,” answered Miss Betty. + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” answered Cousin Hans, a little sharply; for, on the whole, he + did not like the way in which the young lady made her remarks. “Would you + have had her mope and pine away?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not at all,” answered Miss Schrappe; “but, in my opinion, it would + have shown more strength of character if she had felt more indignant at + her <i>fiancé’s</i> conduct.” + </p> + <p> + “I should say, on the contrary, that it shows most admirable strength of + character that she should bear no ill-will and feel no anger; for a + woman’s strength lies in forgiveness,” said Cousin Hans, who grew eloquent + in defence of his lady-love. + </p> + <p> + Miss Betty thought that if people in general would show more indignation + when an engagement was broken off, as so often happened, perhaps young + people would be more cautious in these matters. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans, on the other hand, was of opinion that when a <i>fiancé</i> + discovered, or even suspected, that he had made a mistake, and that what + he had taken for love was not the real, true, and genuine article, he was + not only bound to break off the engagement with all possible speed, but it + was the positive duty of the other party, and of all friends and + acquaintances, to excuse and forgive him, and to say as little as possible + about the matter, in order that it might the sooner be forgotten. + </p> + <p> + Miss Betty answered hastily that she did not think it at all the right + thing that young people should enter into experimental engagements while + they keep a look out for true love. + </p> + <p> + This remark greatly irritated Cousin Hans, but he had no time to reply, + for at that moment the captain rose from the table. + </p> + <p> + There was something about Miss Schrappe that he really could not endure; + and he was so much absorbed in this thought that, for a time, he almost + forgot the melancholy intelligence that the beloved one—Miss Beck—was + leaving town to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + He could not but admit that the captain’s daughter was pretty, very + pretty; she seemed to be both domestic and sensible, and it was clear that + she devoted herself to her old father with touching tenderness. And yet + Cousin Hans said to himself: “Poor thing, who would want to marry her?” + </p> + <p> + For she was entirely devoid of that charming helplessness which is so + attractive in a young girl; when she spoke, it was with an almost odious + repose and decision. She never came in with any of those fascinating + half-finished sentences, such as “Oh, I don’t know if you understand me—there + are so few people that understand me—I don’t know how to express + what I mean; but I feel it so strongly.” In short, there was about Miss + Schrappe nothing of that vagueness and mystery which is woman’s most + exquisite charm. + </p> + <p> + Furthermore, he had a suspicion that she was “learned.” And everyone, + surely, must agree with Cousin Hans that if a woman is to fulfil her + mission in this life (that is to say, to be a man’s wife) she ought + clearly to have no other acquirements than those her husband wishes her to + have, or himself confers upon her. Any other fund of knowledge must always + be a dowry of exceedingly doubtful value. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans was in the most miserable of moods. It was only eight o’clock, + and he did not think it would do to take his departure before half-past + nine. The captain had already settled himself at the table, prepared to + begin the sham-fight. There was no chance of escape, and Hans took a seat + at his side. + </p> + <p> + Opposite to him sat Miss Betty, with her sewing, and with a book in front + of her. He leaned forward and discovered that it was a German novel of the + modern school. + </p> + <p> + It was precisely one of those works which Hans was wont to praise loudly + when he developed his advanced views, colored with a little dash of + free-thought. But to find this book here, in a lady’s hands, and, what was + more, in German (Hans had read it in a translation), was in the last + degree unpleasing to him. + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, when Miss Betty asked if he liked the novel, he answered that + it was one of the books which should only be read by men of ripened + judgment and established principles, and that it was not at all suited for + ladies. + </p> + <p> + He saw that the girl flushed, and he felt that he had been rude. But he + was really feeling desperate, and, besides, there was something positively + irritating in this superior little person. + </p> + <p> + He was intensely worried and bored; and, to fulfil the measure of his + suffering, the captain began to make Battalion B advance “under cover of + the night.” + </p> + <p> + Cousin Hans now watched the captain moving match-boxes, penknives, and + other small objects about the table. He nodded now and then, but he did + not pay the slightest attention. He thought of the lovely Miss Beck, whom + he was, perhaps, never to see again; and now and then he stole a glance at + Miss Schrappe, to whom he had been so rude. + </p> + <p> + He gave a sudden start as the captain slapped him on the shoulder, with + the words, “And it was this point that I was to occupy. What do you think + of that?” + </p> + <p> + Uncle Frederick’s words flashed across Cousin Hans’s mind, and, nodding + vehemently, he said: “Of course, the only thing to be done—the key + to the position?” + </p> + <p> + The captain started back and became quite serious. But when he saw Cousin + Hans’s disconcerted expression, his good-nature got the upperhand, and he + laughed and said: + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear sir! there you’re quite mistaken. However,” he added, with a + quiet smile, “it’s a mistake which you share with several of our highest + military authorities. No, now let me show you the key to the position.” + </p> + <p> + And then he began to demonstrate at large that the point which he had been + ordered to occupy was quite without strategical importance; while, on the + other hand, the movement which he made on his own responsibility placed + the enemy in the direst embarrassment, and would have delayed the advance + of Corps B by several hours. + </p> + <p> + Tired and dazed as Cousin Hans was, he could not help admiring the + judicious course adopted by the military authorities towards Captain + Schrappe, if, indeed, there was anything in Uncle Frederick’s story about + the Order of the Sword. + </p> + <p> + For if the captain’s original manoeuvre was, strategically speaking, a + stroke of genius, it was undoubtedly right that he should receive a + decoration. But, on the other hand, it was no less clear that the man who + could suppose that in a sham-fight it was in the least desirable to delay + or embarass any one was quite out of place in an army like ours. He ought + to have known that the true object of the manoeuvres was to let the + opposing armies, with their baggage and commissariat wagons, meet at a + given time and in a given place, there to have a general picnic. + </p> + <p> + While Hans was buried in these thoughts, the captain finished the + sham-fight. He was by no means so pleased with his listener as he had been + upon the esplanade; he seemed, somehow, to have become absent-minded. + </p> + <p> + It was now nine o’clock; but, as Cousin Hans had made up his mind that he + would hold out till half-past nine, he dragged through one of the longest + half-hours that had ever come within his experience. The captain grew + sleepy, Miss Betty gave short and dry answers; Hans had himself to provide + the conversation—weary, out of temper, unhappy and love-sick as he + was. + </p> + <p> + At last the clock was close upon half-past nine; he rose, explaining that + he was accustomed to go early to bed, because he could read best when he + got up at six o’clock. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said the captain, “do you call this going early to bed? I + assure you I always turn in at nine o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + Vexation on vexation! Hans said good-night hastily, and rushed + down-stairs. + </p> + <p> + The captain accompanied him to the landing, candle in hand, and called + after him cordially, “Good-night—happy to see you again.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks!” shouted Hans from below; but he vowed in his inmost soul that he + would never set foot in that house again.——When the old man + returned to the parlor, he found his daughter busy opening the windows. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing that for?” asked the captain. + </p> + <p> + “I’m airing the room after him,” answered Miss Betty. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, Betty, you are really too hard upon him. But I must admit + that the young gentleman did not improve upon closer acquaintance. I don’t + understand young people nowadays.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon the captain retired to his bedroom, after giving his daughter + the usual evening exhortation, “Now don’t sit up too long.” + </p> + <p> + When she was left alone, Miss Betty put out the lamp, moved the flowers + away from the corner window, and seated herself on the window-sill with + her feet upon a chair. + </p> + <p> + On clear moonlight evenings she could descry a little strip of the fiord + between two high houses. It was not much; but it was a glimpse of the + great highway that leads to the south, and to foreign lands. + </p> + <p> + And her desires and longings flew away, following the same course which + has wearied the wings of so many a longing—down the narrow fiord to + the south, where the horizon is wide, where the heart expands, and the + thoughts grow great and daring. + </p> + <p> + And Miss Betty sighed as she gazed at the little strip of the fiord which + she could see between the two high houses.—She gave no thought, as + she sat there, to Cousin Hans; but he thought of Miss Schrappe as he + passed with hasty steps up the street. + </p> + <p> + Never had he met a young lady who was less to his taste. The fact that he + had been rude to her did not make him like her better. We are not inclined + to find those people amiable who have been the occasion of misbehavior on + our own part. It was a sort of comfort to him to repeat to himself, “Who + would want to marry her?” + </p> + <p> + Then his thoughts wandered to the charmer who was to leave town to-morrow. + He realized his fate in all its bitterness, and he felt a great longing to + pour forth the sorrow of his soul to a friend who could understand him. + </p> + <p> + But it was not easy to find a sympathetic friend at that time of night. + </p> + <p> + After all, Uncle Frederick was his confidant in many matters; he would + look him up. + </p> + <p> + As he knew that Uncle Frederick was at Aunt Maren’s, he betook himself + towards the Palace in order to meet him on his way back from Homan’s Town. + He chose one of the narrow avenues on the right, which he knew to be his + uncle’s favorite route; and a little way up the hill he seated himself on + a bench to wait. + </p> + <p> + It must be unusually lively at Aunt Maren’s to make Uncle Frederick stop + there until after ten. At last he seemed to discern a small white object + far up the avenue; it was Uncle Frederick’s white waistcoat approaching. + </p> + <p> + Hans rose from the bench and said very seriously, “Good-evening!” + </p> + <p> + Uncle Frederick was not at all fond of meeting solitary men in dark + avenues; so it was a great relief to him to recognize his nephew. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is it only you, Hans old fellow?” he said, cordially. “What are you + lying in ambush here for?” + </p> + <p> + “I was waiting for you,” answered Hans, in a sombre tone of voice. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed? Is there anything wrong with you? Are you ill?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t ask me,” answered Cousin Hans. + </p> + <p> + This would at any other time have been enough to call forth a hail-storm + of questions from Uncle Frederick. + </p> + <p> + But this evening he was so much taken up with his own experiences that for + the moment he put his nephew’s affairs aside. + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you, you were very foolish,” he said, “not to go with me to + Aunt Maren’s. We have had such a jolly evening, I’m sure you would have + enjoyed it. The fact is, it was a sort of farewell party in honor of a + young lady who’s leaving town to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + A horrible foreboding seized Cousin Hans. + </p> + <p> + “What washer name?” he shrieked, gripping his uncle by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Ow!” cried his uncle, “Miss Beck.” + </p> + <p> + Then Hans collapsed upon the bench. + </p> + <p> + But scarcely had he sunk down before he sprang up again, with a loud cry, + and drew out of his coat-tail pocket a knubbly little object, which he + hurled away far down the avenue. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter with the boy?” cried Uncle Frederick, “What was that + you threw away?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it was that confounded Blücher,” answered Cousin Hans, almost in + tears.—Uncle Frederick scarcely found time to say, “Didn’t I tell + you to beware of Blücher?” when he burst into an alarming fit of laughter, + which lasted from the Palace Hill far along Upper Fort Street. + </p> + <h4> + THE END. + </h4> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s Tales of Two Countries, by Alexander Kielland + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF TWO COUNTRIES *** + +***** This file should be named 8663-h.htm or 8663-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/6/6/8663/ + +Produced by Nicole Apostola, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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