WANDERERS

Translated from the Norwegian of

Knut Hamsun

by W. W. Worster

With an Introduction

by W. W. Worster

CONTENTS

Under the Autumn Star

A Wanderer Plays on Muted Strings

INTRODUCTION

 An autobiographical element is evident in practically everything that Hamsun has written. But it is particularly marked in the two volumes now published under the common title of "Wanderers, " as well as in the sequel named "The Last Joy. " These three works must be considered together. They have more in common than the central figure of "Knut Pedersen from the Northlands" through whose vision the fates of Captain Falkenberg and his wife are gradually unfolded to us. Not only do they refer undisguisedly to events known to be taken out of Hamsun's own life, but they mirror his moods and thoughts and feelings during a certain period so closely that they may well be regarded as diaries of an unusually intimate character. It is as psychological documents of the utmost importance to the understanding of Hamsun himself that they have their chief significance. As a by-product, one might almost say, the reader gets the art which reveals the story of the Falkenbergs by a process of indirect approach equalled in its ingenuity and verisimilitude only by Conrad's best efforts. 

 The line of Hamsun's artistic evolution is easily traceable through certain stages which, however, are not separated by sharp breaks. It is impossible to say that one stage ended and the next one began in a certain year. Instead they overlap like tiles on a roof. Their respective characters are strikingly symbolized by the titles of the dramatic trilogy which Hamsun produced between 1895 and 1898--"At the Gate of the Kingdom, " "The Game of Life, " and "Sunset Glow. "

 "Hunger" opened the first period and "Pan" marked its climax, but it came to an end only with the eight-act drama of "Vendt the Monk" in 1902, and traces of it are to be found in everything that Hamsun ever wrote. Lieutenant Glahn might survive the passions and defiances of his youth and lapse into the more or less wistful resignation of Knut Pedersen from the Northlands, but the cautious, puzzled Knut has moments when he shows not only the Glahn limp but the Glahn fire. 

 Just when the second stage found clear expression is a little hard to tell, but its most characteristic products are undoubtedly the two volumes now offered to the American public, and it persists more or less until 1912, when "The Last Joy" appeared, although the first signs of Hamsun's final and greatest development showed themselves as early as 1904, when "Dreamers" was published. The difference between the second and the third stages lies chiefly in a maturity and tolerance of vision that restores the narrator's sense of humour and eliminates his own personality from the story he has to tell. 

 Hamsun was twenty-nine when he finished "Hunger, " and that was the age given to one after another of his central figures. Glahn is twenty-nine, of course, and so is the Monk Vendt. With Hamsun that age seemed to stand principally for the high water mark of passion. Because of the fire burning within themselves, his heroes had the supreme courage of being themselves in utter defiance of codes and customs. Because of that fire they were capable of rising above everything that life might bring--above everything but the passing of the life-giving passion itself. A Glahn dies, but does not grow old. 

 Life insists on its due course, however, and in reality passion may sink into neurasthenia without producing suicides. Ivar Kareno discovers it in "Sunset Glow, " when, at the age of fifty, he turns renegade in more senses than one. But even then his realization could not be fully accepted by the author himself, still only thirty-eight, and so Kareno steps down into the respectable and honoured sloth of age only to be succeeded, by another hero who has not yet passed the climacteric twenty-ninth year. Even Telegraph-Rolandsen in "Dreamers" retains the youthful glow and charm and irresponsibility that used to be thought inseparable from the true Hamsun character. 

 It is therefore with something of a shock one encounters the enigmatic Knut Pedersen from the Northlands, who has turned from literature to tramping, who speaks of old age as if he had reached the proverbial three-score and ten, and who time and again slips into something like actual whining, as when he says of himself: "Time has worn me out so that I have grown stupid and sterile and indifferent; now I look upon a woman merely as literature. " The two volumes named "Under the Autumn Star" and "A Wanderer Plays on Muted Strings" form an unbroken cry of regret, and the object of that regret is the hey-day of youth--that golden age of twenty-nine--when every woman regardless of age and colour and caste was a challenging fragment of life. 

 Something more than the passing of years must have characterized the period immediately proceeding the production of the two volumes just mentioned. They mark some sort of crisis reaching to the innermost depths of the soul it wracked with anguish and pain. Perhaps a clue to this crisis may be found in the all too brief paragraph devoted to Hamsun in the Norwegian "Who's who. " There is a line that reads as follows: "Married, 1898, Bergljot Bassöe Bech (marriage dissolved); 1908, Marie Andersen. " The man that wrote "Under the Autumn Star" was unhappy. But he was also an artist. In that book the artist within him is struggling for his existence. In "A Wanderer Plays with Muted Strings" the artist is beginning to assert himself more and more, and that he had conquered in the meantime we know by "Benoni" and "Rosa" which appeared in 1908. The crisis was past, but echoes of it were heard as late as 1912, the year of "Last Joy, " which well may be called Hamsun's most melancholy book. Yet that is the book which seems to have paved the way and laid the foundation for "The Growth of the Soil"--just as "Dreamers" was a sketch out of which in due time grew "Children of the Time" and "Segelfoss Town. "

 Hamsun's form is always fluid. In the two works now published it approaches formlessness. "Under the Autumn Star" is a mere sketch, seemingly lacking both plan and plot. Much of the time Knut Pedersen is merely thinking aloud. But out of his devious musings a purpose finally shapes itself, and gradually we find ourselves the spectator of a marital drama that becomes the dominant note in the sequel. The development of this main theme is, as I have already suggested, distinctly Conradian in its method, and looking back from the ironical epilogue that closes "A Wanderer Plays on Muted Strings, " one marvels at the art that could work such a compelling totality out of such a miscellany of unrelated fragments. 

 There is a weakness common to both these works which cannot be passed up in silence. More than once the narrator falls out of his part as a tramp worker to rail journalistically at various things that have aroused his particular wrath, such as the tourist traffic, the city worker and everything relating to Switzerland. It is done very naively, too, but it is well to remember how frequently in the past this very kind of naiveté has associated with great genius. And whatever there be of such shortcomings is more than balanced by the wonderful feeling for and understanding of nature that most frequently tempt Hamsun into straying from the straight and narrow path of conventional story telling. What cannot be forgiven to the man who writes of "faint whisperings that come from forest and river as if millions of nothingnesses kept streaming and streaming, " and who finds in those whisperings "one eternity coming to an understanding with another eternity about something"?

EDWIN BJORKMAN

WANDERERS

I. 

Smooth as glass the water was yesterday, and smooth as glass it is againtoday. Indian summer on the island, mild and warm--ah! But there is nosun. 

It is many years now since I knew such peace. Twenty or thirty years, maybe; or maybe it was in another life. But I have felt it some time, surely, since I go about now humming a little tune; go about rejoicing, loving every straw and every stone, and feeling as if they cared for me inreturn. 

When I go by the overgrown path, in through the woods, my heart quiverswith an unearthly joy. I call to mind a spot on the eastern shores of theCaspian, where I once stood. All just as it is here, with the water stilland heavy and iron-grey as now. I walked through the woods, touched to theheart, and verging on tears for sheer happiness' sake, and saying tomyself all the time: God in heaven. To be here again. .. . 

As if I had been there before. 

Ah well, I may have been there once before, perhaps, coming from anothertime and another land, where the woods and the woodland paths were thesame. Perhaps I was a flower then, in the woods, or perhaps a beetle, withits home in some acacia tree. 

And now I have come to this place. Perhaps I was a bird and flew all thatlong way. Or the kernel in some fruit sent by a Persian trader. 

See, now I am well away from the rush and crowd of the city, from peopleand newspapers; I have fled away from it all, because of the calling thatcame to me once more from the quiet, lonely tracts where I belong. "Itwill all come right this time, " I tell myself, and am full of hope. Alas, I have fled from the city like this before, and afterwards returned. Andfled away again. 

But this time I am resolved. Peace I will have, at any cost. And for thepresent I have taken a room in a cottage here, with Old Gunhild to lookafter me. 

Here and there among the pines are rowans, with ripe coral berries; nowthe berries are falling, heavy clusters striking the earth. So they reapthemselves and sow themselves again, an inconceivable abundance to besquandered every single year. Over three hundred clusters I can count on asingle tree. And here and there about are flowers still in bloom, obstinate things that will not die, though their time is really past. 

But Old Gunhild's time is past as well--and think you she will die? Shegoes about as if death were a thing did not concern her. When thefishermen are down on the beach, painting their boats or darning nets, comes Gunhild with her vacant eyes, but with a mind as keen as any to abargain. 

"And what is the price of mackerel today?" she asks. 

"The same as yesterday. "

"Then you can keep it, for all I care. "

And Gunhild goes back home. 

But the fishermen know that Gunhild is not one of those that only pretendto go away; she has gone off like that before now, up to her cottage, without once looking back. So, "Hey" they call to her, and say they'llmake it seven to the half-dozen today, seeing she is an old customer. 

And Gunhild buys her fish. 

Washing hangs on the lines to dry; red petticoats and blue shirts, andunder-things of preposterous thickness, all spun and woven on the islandby the old women still left alive. But there is washing, too, of anothersort: those fine chemises without sleeves, the very thing to make a bodyblue with cold, and mauve woollen undervests that pull out to no more thanthe thickness of a string. And how did these abominations get there? Why, 'tis the daughters, to be sure, the young girls of the present day, who'vebeen in service in the towns, and earned such finery that way. Wash themcarefully, and not too often, and the things will last for just a month. And then there is a lovely naked feeling when the holes begin to spread. 

But there is none of that sort of nonsense, now, about Gunhild's shoes, for instance. At suitable intervals, she goes round to one of thefishermen, her like in age and mind, and gets the uppers and the solesdone in thoroughly with a powerful mess of stuff that leaves the watersimply helpless. I've seen that dubbin boiling on the beach; there'stallow in it, and tar and resin as well. 

Wandering idly along the beach yesterday, looking at driftwood and scalesand stones, I came upon a tiny bit of plate glass. How it ever got there, is more than I can make out; but the thing seems a mistake, a very lie, tolook at. Would any fisherman, now, have rowed out here with it and laid itdown and rowed away again? I left it where it lay; it was thick and commonand vulgar; perhaps a bit of a tramcar window. Once on a time glass wasrare, and bottle-green. God's blessing on the old days, when somethingcould be rare!

Smoke rising now from the fisher-huts on the southern point of the island. Evening time, and porridge cooking for supper. And when supper's done, decent folk go to their beds, to be up again with the dawn. Only young andfoolish creatures still go trapesing round from house to house, puttingoff their bedtime, not knowing what is best for themselves. 

II

A man landed here this morning--come to paint the house. But Old Gunhild, being very old indeed, and perishing with gout most times, gets him to cutup a few days' firewood for her cooking before he starts. I've offeredmany a time to cut that wood myself, but she thinks my clothes too fine, and would not let me have the ax on any account. 

This painter, now, is a short, thick-set fellow with red hair and nobeard. I watch him from behind a window as he works, to see how he handlesthe ax. Then, noticing that he is talking to himself, I steal out of thehouse to listen. If he makes a false stroke, he takes it patiently, anddoes not trouble himself; but whenever he knocks his knuckles, he turnsirritable and says: "_Fan! Fansmagt_!" [Footnote: "The Devil! Powerof the Devil!"]--and then looks round suddenly and starts humming a tuneto cover his words. 

Yes; I recognize that painter man. Only, he's not a painter at all, therascal, but Grindhusen, one of the men I worked with when I was roadmakingat Skreia. 

I go up to him, and ask if he remembers me, and we talk a bit. 

Many, many years it is now since we were roadmenders together, Grindhusenand I; we were youngsters then, and danced along the roads in the sorriestof shoes, and ate what we could get as long as we had money enough forthat. But when we'd money to spare, then there would be dancing with thegirls all Saturday night, and a crowd of our fellow-workers would comealong, and the old woman in the house sold us coffee till she must havemade a little fortune. Then we worked on heart and soul another weekthrough, looking forward to the Saturday again. But Grindhusen, he was asa red-headed wolf after the girls. 

Did he remember the old days at Skreia?

He looks at me, taking stock of me, with something of reserve; it is quitea while before I can draw him out to remember it at all. 

Yes, he remembers Skreia well enough. 

"And Anders Fila and 'Spiralen' and Petra?"

"Which one?"

"Petra--the one that was your girl. "

"Ay, I remember her. I got tied up with her at last. " Grindhusen falls tochopping wood again. 

"Got tied up with her, did you?"

"Ay, that was the end of it. Had to be, I suppose. What was I going tosay, now? You've turned out something fine, by the look of things. "

"Why? Is it these clothes you're thinking of? You've Sunday clothesyourself, now, haven't you?"

"What d'you give for those you've got on?"

"I can't remember, but it was nothing very much. Couldn't say exactly whatit was. "

Grindhusen looks at me in astonishment and bursts out laughing. 

"What? Can't remember what you paid for them?"

Then he turns serious, shakes his head, and says: "No, I dare say youwouldn't. No. That's the way when you've money enough and beyond. "

Old Gunhild comes out from the house, and seeing us standing there by thechopping-block wasting time in idle talk, she tells Grindhusen he'd betterstart on the painting. 

"So you've turned painter now?" said I. 

Grindhusen made no answer, and I saw I had said a thing that should nothave been said in others' hearing. 

III

Grindhusen works away a couple of hours with his putty and paint, and soonone side of the little house, the north side, facing the sea, is done allgaily in red. At the mid-day rest, I go out and join him, with somethingto drink, and we lie on the ground awhile, chatting and smoking. 

"Painter? Not much of a one, and that's the truth, " says he. "But if anyone comes along and asks if I can paint a bit of a wall, why, of course Ican. First-rate _Brændevin_ this you've got. "

His wife and two children lived some four miles off, and he went home tothem every Saturday. There were two daughters besides, both grown up, andone of them married. Grindhusen was a grandfather already. As soon as he'ddone painting Gunhild's cottage--two coats it was to have--he was goingoff to the vicarage to dig a well. There was always work of some sort tobe had about the villages. And when winter set in, and the frost began tobind, he would either take a turn of woodcutting in the forests or lieidle for a spell, till something else turned up. He'd no big family tolook after now, and the morrow, no doubt, would look after itself just astoday. 

"If I could only manage it, " said Grindhusen, "I know what I'd do. I'd getmyself some bricklayer's tools. "

"So you're a bricklayer, too?"

"Well, not much of a one, and that's the truth. But when that well's dug, why, it'll need to be lined, that's clear. .. . "

I sauntered about the island as usual, thinking of this and that. Peace, peace, a heavenly peace comes to me in a voice of silence from every treein the wood. And now, look you, there are but few of the small birds left;only some crows flying mutely from place to place and settling. And theclusters from the rowans drop with a sullen thud and bury themselves inthe moss. 

Grindhusen is right, perhaps: tomorrow will surely look after itself, justas today. I have not seen a paper now these last two weeks, and, for allthat, here I am, alive and well, making great progress in respect ofinward calm; I sing, and square my shoulders, and stand bareheadedwatching the stars at night. 

For eighteen years past I have sat in cafés, calling for the waiter if afork was not clean: I never call for Gunhild in the matter of forks cleanor not! There's Grindhusen, now, I say to myself; did you mark when he lithis pipe, how he used the match to the very last of it, and never burnedhis horny fingers? I saw a fly crawling over his hand, but he simply letit crawl; perhaps he never noticed it was there. That is the way a manshould feel towards flies. .. . 

In the evening, Grindhusen takes the boat and rows off. I wander along thebeach, singing to myself a little, throwing stones at the water, andhauling bits of driftwood ashore. The stars are out, and there is a moon. In a couple of hours Grindhusen comes back, with a good set ofbricklayer's tools in the boat. Stolen them somewhere, I think to myself. We shoulder each our load, and hide away the tools among the trees. 

Then it is night, and we go each our separate way. 

Grindhusen finishes his painting the following afternoon, but agrees to goon cutting wood till six o'clock to make up a full day's work. I get outGunhild's boat and go off fishing, so as not to be there when he leaves. Icatch no fish, and it is cold sitting in the boat; I look at my watchagain and again. At last, about seven o'clock: he must be gone by now, Isay to myself, and I row home. Grindhusen has got over to the mainland, and calls across to me from there: _"Farvel!"_

Something thrilled me warmly at the word; it was like a calling from myyouth, from Skreia, from days a generation gone. 

I row across to him and ask:

"Can you dig that well all alone?"

"No. I'll have to take another man along. "

"Take me, " I said. "Wait for me here, while I go up and settle at thehouse. "

Half-way up I heard Grindhusen calling again:

"I can't wait here all night. And I don't believe you meant it, anyway. "

"Wait just a minute. I'll be down again directly. "

And Grindhusen sets himself down on the beach to wait. He knows I've someof that first-rate _Brændevin_ still left. 

IV

We came to the vicarage on a Saturday. After much doubting, Grindhusen hadat last agreed to take me as his mate. I had bought provisions and someworking clothes, and stood there now, in blouse and high boots, ready tostart work. I was free and unknown; I learned to walk with a long, slouching stride, and for the look of a laboring man, I had that alreadyboth in face and hands. We were to put up at the vicarage itself, and cookour food in the brew-house across the yard. 

And so we started on our digging. 

I did my share of the work, and Grindhusen had no fault to find with me asa work-mate. "You'll turn out a first-rate hand at this, after all, " hesaid. 

Then after we'd been working a bit, the priest came out to look, and wetook off our hats. He was an oldish man, quiet and gentle in his ways andspeech; tiny wrinkles spread out fanwise from the corners of his eyes, like the traces of a thousand kindly smiles. He was sorry to interrupt, and hoped we wouldn't mind--but they'd so much trouble every year with thefowls slipping through into the garden. Could we leave the well just for alittle, and come round and look at the garden wall? There was one place inparticular. .. . 

Grindhusen answered: surely; we'd manage that for him all right. 

So we went up and set the crumbling wall to rights. While we were busythere a young lady came out and stood looking on. We greeted her politely, and I thought her a beautiful creature to see. Then a half-grown lad cameout to look, and asked all sorts of questions. The two were brother andsister, no doubt. And the work went on easily enough with the young folkthere looking on. 

Then evening came. Grindhusen went off home, leaving me behind. I slept inthe hayloft for the night. 

Next day was Sunday. I dared not put on my town clothes lest they shouldseem above my station, but cleaned up my working things as neatly as Icould, and idled about the place in the quiet of Sunday morning. I chattedto the farm-hands and joined them in talking nonsense to the maids; whenthe bell began ringing for church, I sent in to ask if I might borrow aPrayer Book, and the priest's son brought me one himself. One of the menlent me a coat; it wasn't big enough, really, but, taking off my blouseand vest, I made it do. And so I went to church. 

That inward calm I had been at such pains to build up on the island provedall too little yet; at the first thrill of the organ I was torn from mysetting and came near to sobbing aloud. "Keep quiet, you fool, " I said tomyself, "it's only neurasthenia. " I had chosen a seat well apart from therest, and hid my emotion as best I could. I was glad when that service wasover. 

When I had boiled my meat and had some dinner, I was invited into thekitchen for a cup of coffee. And while I sat there, in came Frøkenen, theyoung lady I had seen the day before; I stood up and bowed a greeting, andshe nodded in return. She was charming, with her youth and her prettyhands. When I got up to go, I forgot myself and said:

"Most kind of you, I'm sure, my dear young lady!"

She glanced at me in astonishment, frowned, and the colour spread in hercheeks till they burned. Then with a toss of her head she turned and leftthe room. She was very young. 

Well, I had done a nice thing now!

Miserable at heart, I sneaked up into the woods to hide. Impertinent fool, why hadn't I held my tongue! Of all the ridiculous things to say. .. . 

The vicarage buildings lay on the slope of a small hill; from the top, theland stretched away flat and level, with alternating timber and clearing. It struck me that here would be the proper place to dig the well, and thenrun a pipe-line down the slope to the house. Judging the height as nearlyas I can, it seems more than enough to give the pressure needed; on theway back I pace out the approximate length: two hundred and fifty feet. 

But what business was it of mine, after all? For Heaven's sake let me notgo making the same mistake again, and insulting folk by talking above mystation. 

V

Grindhusen came out again on Monday morning, and we fell to digging asbefore. The old priest came out to look, and asked if we couldn't fix apost for him on the road up to the church. He needed it badly, that post;it had stood there before, but had got blown down; he used it for nailingup notices and announcements. 

We set up a new post, and took pains to get it straight and upstanding asa candle in a stick. And by the way of thanks we hooded the top with zinc. 

While I was at work on the hood, I got Grindhusen to suggest that the postshould be painted red; he had still a trifle of red paint left over fromthe work at Gunhild's cottage. But the priest wanted it white, andGrindhusen was afraid to contradict, and carefully agreed to all he said, until at last I put in a word, and said that notices on white paper wouldshow up better against red. At that the priest smiled, with the endlesswrinkles round his eyes, and said: "Yes, yes, of course, you're quiteright. "

And that was enough; just that bit of a smile and saying I was right mademe all glad and proud again within. 

Then Frøkenen came up, and said a few words to Grindhusen; even jestedwith him, asking what that red cardinal was to be stuck up there for onthe road. But to me she said nothing at all, and did not even look at mewhen I took off my hat. 

Dinner was a sore trial to me that day, not that the food was bad, no, butGrindhusen, he ate his soup in a disgusting fashion, and his mouth was allgreasy with fat. 

"What'll he be like when it comes to eating porridge?" I thought to myselfhysterically. 

Then when he leaned back on the bench to rest after his meal in the samegreasy state, I called to him straight out:

"For Heaven's sake, man, aren't you going to wipe your mouth?"

He stared at me, wiping his mouth with one hand. "Mouth?" he said. 

I tried to turn it off then as a joke, and said: "Haha, I had you there!"But I was displeased with myself, for all that, and went out of thebrewhouse directly after. 

Then I fell to thinking of Frøkenen. "I'll make her answer when I give agreeting, " I said to myself. "I'll let her see before very long that I'mnot altogether a fool. " There was that business of the well and thepipe-line, now; what if I were to work out a plan for the wholeinstallation all complete! I had no instruments to take the height andfall of the hill . .. Well, I could make one that would serve. And I set towork. A wooden tube, with two ordinary lamp-glasses fixed in with putty, and the whole filled with water. 

Soon it was found there were many little things needed seeing to about thevicarage--odd matters here and there. A stone step to be set straightagain, a wall to be repaired; the bridgeway to the barn had to bestrengthened before the corn could be brought in. The priest liked to haveeverything sound and in order about the place--and it was all one to us, seeing we were paid by the day. But as time went on I grew more and moreimpatient of my work-mate's company. It was torture to me, for instance, to see him pick up a loaf from the table, hold it close in to his chest, and cut off a slice with a greasy pocket-knife that he was always puttingin his mouth. And then, again, he would go all through the week, fromSunday to Sunday, without a wash. And in the morning, before the sun wasup, and the evening, after it had gone, there was always a shiny drophanging from the tip of his nose. And then his nails! And as for his ears, they were simply deformed. 

Alas! I was an upstart creature, that had learned fine manners in thecafés in town. And since I could not keep myself from telling my companionnow and then what I thought of his uncleanly ways, there grew up a certainill-feeling between us, and I feared we should have to separate beforelong. As it was, we hardly spoke now beyond what was needed. 

And there was the well, as undug as ever. Sunday came, and Grindhusen hadgone home. 

I had got my apparatus finished now, and in the afternoon I climbed up tothe roof of the main building and set it up there. I saw at once that thesight cut the hillside several metres below the top. Good. Even reckoninga whole metre down to the water-level, there would still be pressureenough and to spare. 

While I was busy up there the priest's son caught sight of me. HaraldMeltzer was his name. And what was I doing up there? Measuring the hill;what for? What did I want to know the height for? Would I let him try?

Later on I got hold of a line ten metres long, and measured the hill fromfoot to summit, with Harald to help. When we came down to the house, Iasked to see the priest himself, and told him of my plan. 

VI

The priest listened patiently, and did not reject the idea at once. 

"Really, now!" he said, with a smile. "Why, perhaps you're right. But itwill cost a lot of money. And why should we trouble about it at all?"

"It's seventy paces from the house to the well we started to dig. Seventysteps for the maids to go through mud and snow and all sorts, summer andwinter. "

"That's true, yes. But this other way would cost a terrible lot of money. "

"Not counting the well--that you'll have to have in any case; the wholeinstallation, with work and material, ought not to come to more than acouple of hundred Kroner, " said I. 

The priest looked surprised. 

"Is that all?"

"Yes. "

I waited a little each time before answering, as if I were slow by nature, and born so. But, really, I had thought out the whole thing beforehand. 

"It would be a great convenience, that's true, " said the priestthoughtfully. "And that water tub in the kitchen does make a lot of mess. "

"And it will save carrying water to the bedrooms as well. "

"The bedrooms are all upstairs. It won't help us there, I'm afraid. "

"We can run the pipes up to the first floor. "

"Can we, though? Up to the bedrooms? Will there be pressure enough forthat, do you think?"

Here I waited longer than usual before answering, as a stolid fellow, whodid not undertake things lightly. 

"I think I can answer for a jet the height of the roof, " I said. 

"Really, now!" exclaimed the priest. And then again: "Come and let us seewhere you think of digging the well. "

We went up the hill, the priest, Harald, and I, and I let the priest lookthrough my instrument, and showed him that there would be more thanpressure enough. 

"I must talk to the other man about it, " he said. 

But I cut out Grindhusen at once, and said: "Grindhusen? He's no idea ofthis work at all. "

The priest looked at me. 

"Really?" he said. 

Then we went down again, the priest talking as if to himself. 

"Quite right; yes. It's an endless business fetching water in the winter. And summer, too, for that matter. I must see what the women think aboutit. "

And he went indoors. 

After ten minutes or so, I was sent for round to the front steps; thewhole family were there now. 

"So you're the man who's going to give us water laid on to the house?"said Fruen kindly. 

I took off my cap and bowed in a heavy, stolid fashion, and the priestanswered for me: yes, this was the man. 

Frøkenen gave me one curious glance, and then started talking in anundertone to her brother. Fruen went on with more questions--would itreally be a proper water-supply like they had in town, just turn on a tapand there was the water all ready? And for upstairs as well? A couple ofhundred Kroner? "Really, I think you ought to say yes, " she said to herhusband. 

"You think so? Well, let's all go up to the top of the hill and lookthrough the thing and see. "

We went up the hill, and I set the instrument for them and let them look. 

"Wonderful!" said Fruen. 

But Frøkenen said never a word. 

The priest asked:

"But are you sure there's water here?"

I answered carefully, as a man of sober judgment, that it was not a thingto swear to beforehand, but there was every sign of it. 

"What sort of signs?" asked Fruen. 

"The nature of the ground. And you'll notice there's willow and osiersgrowing about. And they like a wet soil. "

The priest nodded, and said:

"He knows his business, Marie, you can see. "

On the way back, Fruen had got so far as to argue quite unwarrantably thatshe could manage with one maid less once they'd water laid on. And not tofail her, I put in:

"In summer at least you might. You could water all the garden with a hosefixed to the tap and carried out through the cellar window. "

"Splendid!" she exclaimed. 

But I did not venture to speak of laying a pipe to the cow-shed. I hadrealized all the time that with a well twice the size, and a branch pipeacross the yard, the dairymaid would be saved as much as the kitchen-maidsin the house. But it would cost nearly twice as much. No, it was not wiseto put forward so great a scheme. 

Even as it was, I had to agree to wait till Grindhusen came back. Thepriest said he wanted to sleep on it. 

VII

So now I had to tell Grindhusen myself, and prepare him for the newarrangement. And lest he should turn suspicious, I threw all the blame onthe priest, saying it was his idea, but that I had backed him up. Grindhusen had no objection; he saw at once it meant more work for ussince we should have the well to dig in any case, and the bed for thepipes besides. 

As luck would have it, the priest came out on Monday morning, and said toGrindhusen half jestingly:

"Your mate here and I have decided to have the well up on the hill, andlay down a pipe-line to the house. What do you think of it? A mad idea?"

Grindhusen thought it was a first-rate idea. 

But when we came to talk it over, and went up all three to look at thesite of the well, Grindhusen began to suspect I'd had more to do with itthan I had said. We should have to lay the pipes deep down, he said, onaccount of the frost. .. . 

"One metre thirty's plenty, " I said. 

. .. And that it would cost a great deal of money. 

"Your mate here said about a couple of hundred Kroner in all, " answeredthe priest. 

Grindhusen had no idea of estimates at all, and could only say:

"Well, well, two hundred Kroner's a deal of money, anyway. "

I said:

"It will mean so much less in _Aabot_ when you move. "

The priest looked at me in surprise. 

"_Aabot_? But I'm not thinking of leaving the place, " he said. 

"Why, then, you'll have the full use of it. And may your reverence live toenjoy it for many a year, " said I. 

At this the priest stared at me, and asked:

"What is your name?"

"Knut Pedersen. "

"Where are you from?"

"From Nordland. "

But I understood why he had asked, and resolved not to talk in thatbookish way any more. 

Anyhow, the well and the pipe-line were decided on, and we set to work. .. . 

The days that followed were pleasant enough. I was not a little anxious atfirst as to whether we should find water on the site, and I slept badlyfor some nights. But once that fear was past, all that remained was simpleand straightforward work. There was water enough; after a couple of dayswe had to bale it out with buckets every morning. It was clay lower down, and our clothes were soon in a sorry state from the work. 

We dug for a week, and started the next getting out stones to line thewell. This was work we were both used to from the old days at Skreia. Thenwe put in another week digging, and by that time we had carried it deepenough. The bottom was soon so soft that we had to begin on the stoneworkat once, lest the clay walls should cave in on top of us. 

So week after week passed, with digging and mining and mason's work. Itwas a big well, and made a nice job; the priest was pleased with it. Grindhusen and I began to get on better together; and when he found that Iasked no more than a fair labourer's wage, though much of the work wasdone under my directions, he was inclined to do something for me inreturn, and took more care about his table manners. Altogether, I couldnot have wished for a happier time; and nothing on earth should everpersuade me to go back to town life again!

In the evenings I wandered about the woods, or in the churchyard readingthe inscriptions on the tombstones, and thinking of this and that. Also, Iwas looking about for a nail from some corpse. I wanted a nail; it was afancy of mine, a little whim. I had found a nice piece of birch-root thatI wanted to carve to a pipe-bowl in the shape of a clenched fist; thethumb was to act as a lid, and I wanted a nail to set in, to make itspecially lifelike. The ring finger was to have a little gold ring bentround. 

Thinking of such trifles kept my mind calm and at ease. There was no hurrynow for me about anything in life. I could dream as I pleased, havingnothing else to do; the evenings were my own. If possible, too, I wouldsee and arrive at some feeling of respect for the sacredness of the churchand terror of the dead; I had still a memory of that rich mysticism fromdays now far, far behind, and wished I could have some share in it again. Now, perhaps, when I found that nail, there would come a voice from thetombs: "That is mine!" and I would drop the thing in horror, and take tomy heels and run. 

"I wish that vane up there wouldn't creak so, " Grindhusen would say attimes. 

"Are you afraid?"

"Well, not properly afraid; no. But it gives you a creeping feeling nowand then to think of all the corpses lying there so near. "

Happy man!

One day Harald showed me how to plant pine cones and little bushes. I'd noidea of that sort of work before; we didn't learn it in the days when Iwas at school. But now I'd seen the way of it, I went about plantingbusily on Sundays; and, in return, I taught Harald one or two littlethings that were new to him at his age, and got to be friends with him. 

VIII

And all might have been well if it had not been for Frøkenen, the daughterof the house. I grew fonder of her every day. Her name was Elischeba, Elisabeth. No remarkable beauty, perhaps; but she had red lips, and ablue, girlish glance that made her pretty to see. Elischeba, Elisabeth--achild at the first dawn of life, with eyes looking out upon the world. Shespoke one evening with young Erik from the neighbouring _gaard_, andher eyes were full of sweetness and of something ripening. 

It was all very well for Grindhusen. He had gone ravening after the girlswhen he was young, and he still spanked about with his hat on one side, out of habit. But he was quiet and tame enough now, as well he mightbe--'tis nature's way. But some there are who would not follow nature'sway, and be tamed; and how shall it fare with them at last? And then therewas little Elisabeth; and she was none so little after all, but as tall asher mother. And she'd her mother's high breast. 

Since that first Sunday they had not asked me in to coffee in the kitchen, and I took care myself they should not, but kept out of the way. I wasstill ashamed of the recollection. But then, at last, in the middle of theweek, one of the maids came with a message that I was not to go runningoff into the woods every Sunday afternoon, but come to coffee with therest. Fruen herself had said so. 

Good!

Now, should I put on my best clothes or not? No harm, perhaps, in lettingthat young lady get into her head that I was one who had chosen to turn myback upon the life of cities, and taken upon myself the guise of aservant, for all I was a man of parts, that could lay on water to a house. But when I had dressed, I felt myself that my working clothes were bettersuited to me now; I took off my best things again, and hid them carefullyin my bag. 

But, as it happened, it was not Frøkenen at all who received me on thatSunday afternoon, but Fruen. She talked to me for quite a while, and shehad spread a little white cloth under my cup. 

"That trick of yours with the egg is likely to cost us something beforewe've done with it, " said Fruen, with a kindly laugh. "The boy's used uphalf a dozen eggs already. "

I had taught Harald the trick of passing a hard boiled egg with the shelloff through the neck of a decanter, by thinning the air inside. It wasabout the only experiment in physics that I knew. 

"But that one with breaking the stick in the two paper loops was reallyinteresting, " Fruen went on. "I don't understand that sort of thingmyself, but. .. . When will the well be done?"

"The well is done. We're going to start on the trench tomorrow. "

"And how long will that take to do?"

"About a week. Then the man can come and lay the pipes. "

"No! really?"

I said my thanks and went out. Fruen had a way she had kept, no doubt, from earlier years; now and again she would glance at one sideways, thoughthere was nothing the least bit artful in what she said. .. . 

Now the woods showed a yellowing leaf here and there, and earth and airbegan to smell of autumn. Only the fungus growths were now at their best, shooting up everywhere, and flourishing fine and thick on woolly stems--milk mushrooms, and the common sort, and the brown. Here and there atoadstool thrust up its speckled top, flaming its red all unashamed. Awonderful thing! Here it is growing on the same spot as the edible sorts, fed by the same soil, given sun and rain from heaven the same as they;rich and strong it is, and good to eat, save, only, that it isfull of impertinent muscarin. I once thought of making up a fine old storyabout the toadstool, and saying I had read it in a book. 

It has always been a pleasure to me to watch the flowers and insects intheir struggle to keep alive. When the sun was hot they would come to lifeagain, and give themselves up for an hour or so to the old delight; thebig, strong flies were just as much alive as in midsummer. There was apeculiar sort of earth-bug here that I had not seen before--little yellowthings, no bigger than a small-type comma, yet they could jump severalthousand times their own length. Think of the strength of such a body inproportion to its size! There is a tiny spider here with its hinder partlike a pale yellow pearl. And the pearl is so heavy that the creature hasto clamber up a stalk of grass back downwards. When it comes upon anobstacle the pearl cannot pass, it simply drops straight down and startsto climb another. Now, a little pearl-spider like that is not just aspider and no more. If I hold out a leaf towards it to help it to itsfooting on a floor, it fumbles about for a while on the leaf, and thinksto itself: "H'm, something wrong about this!" and backs away again, refusing to be in any way entrapped on to a floor. .. . 

Some one calls me by name from down in the wood. It is Harald; he hasstarted a Sunday school with me. He gave me a lesson out of Pontoppidan tolearn, and now I'm to be heard. It is touching to be taught religion nowas I should have taught it myself when I was a child. 

IX

The well was finished, the trench was dug, and the man had come to lay thepipes. He chose Grindhusen to help him with the work, and I was set tocutting a way for the pipes up from the cellar through the two floors ofthe house. 

Fruen came down one day when I was busy in the cellar. I called out to herto mind the hole in the floor; but she took it very calmly. 

"There's no hole there now, is there?" she asked, pointing one way. "Orthere?" But at last she missed her footing after all, and slipped downinto the hole where I was. And there we stood. It was not light thereanyway; and for her, coming straight in from the daylight outside, it musthave seemed quite dark. She felt about the edge, and said:

"Now, how am I to get up again?"

I lifted her up. It was no matter to speak of; she was slight of figure, for all she had a big girl of her own. 

"Well, I must say. .. . " She stood shaking the earth from her dress. "One, two, three, and up!--as neatly as could be. .. . Look here, I'd like you tohelp me with something upstairs one day, will you? I want to move somethings. Only we must wait till a day when my husband's over at the annexe;he doesn't like my changing things about. How long will it be beforeyou've finished all there is to do here?"

I mentioned a time, a week or thereabout. 

"And where are you going then?"

"To the farm just by. Grindhusen's fixed it up for us to go and digpotatoes there. .. . "

Then came the work in the kitchen; I had to saw through the floor there. Frøken Elisabeth came in once or twice while I was there; it could hardlyhave been otherwise, seeing it was the kitchen. And for all her dislike ofme, she managed to say a word or two, and stand looking at the work alittle. 

"Only fancy, Oline, " she said to the maid, "when it's all done, and you'llonly have to turn on a tap. "

But Oline, who was old, did not look anyways delighted. It was like goingagainst Providence, she said, to go sending water through a pipe rightinto the house. She'd carried all the water she'd a use for these twentyyears; what was she to do now?

"Take a rest, " said I. 

"Rest, indeed! We're made to work, I take it, not to rest. "

"And sew things against the time you get married, " said Frøken Elisabeth, with a smile. 

It was only girlish talk, but I was grateful to her for taking a littlepart in the talk with us, and staying there for a while. And heavens, howI did try to behave, and talk smartly and sensibly, showing off like aboy. I remember it still. Then suddenly Frøken Elisabeth seemed toremember it wasn't proper for her to stay out here with us any longer, andso she went. 

That evening I went up to the churchyard, as I had done so many timesbefore, but seeing Frøkenen already there, I turned away, and took myselfoff into the woods. And afterwards I thought: now she will surely betouched by my humility, and think: poor fellow, he showed real delicacy inthat. And the next thing, of course, was to imagine her coming after me. Iwould get up from the stone where I was sitting, and give a greeting. Thenshe would be a little embarrassed, and say: "I was just going for a walk--it's such a lovely evening--what are you doing here?" "Just sittinghere, " say I, with innocent eyes, as if my thoughts had been far away. Andwhen she hears that I was just sitting there in the late of the evening, she must realize that I am a dreamer and a soul of unknown depth, and thenshe falls in love with me. .. . 

She was in the churchyard again the following evening, and a thought ofhigh conceit flew suddenly into my mind: it was myself she came to see!But, watching her more closely, I saw that she was busy, doing somethingabout a grave, so it was not me she had come for. I stole away up to thebig ant-heap in the wood and watched the insects as long as I could see;afterwards, I sat listening to the falling cones and clusters of rowanberries. I hummed a tune, and whispered to myself and thought; now andagain I had to get up and walk a little to get warm. The hours passed, thenight came on, and I was so in love I walked there bare-headed, lettingmyself be stared out of all countenance by the stars. 

"How's the time?" Grindhusen might ask when I came back to the barn. 

"Just gone eleven, " I would say, though it might be two or three in themorning. 

"Huh! And a nice time to be coming to bed. _Fansmagt!_ Waking folk upwhen they've been sleeping decently!"

And Grindhusen turns over on the other side, to fall asleep again in amoment. There was no trouble with Grindhusen. 

Eyah, it's over-foolish of a man to fall in love when he's getting on inyears. And who was it set out to show there _was_ a way to quiet andpeace of mind?

X

A man came out for his bricklayer's tools; he wanted them back. What? ThenGrindhusen had not stolen them at all! But it was always the same withGrindhusen: commonplace, dull, and ordinary, never great in anything, never a lofty mind. 

I said:

"You, Grindhusen, there's nothing in you but eat and sleep and work. Here's a man come for those tools now. So you only borrowed them; that'sall you're good for. I wouldn't be you for anything. "

"Don't be a fool, " said Grindhusen. 

He was offended now, but I got him round again, as I had done so manytimes before, by pretending I had only spoken in jest. 

"What are we to do now?" he asked. 

"You'll manage it all right, " said I. 

"Manage it--will I?"

"Yes, or I am much mistaken. "

And Grindhusen was pacified once more. 

But at the midday rest, when I was cutting his hair, I put him out oftemper once again by suggesting he should wash his head. 

"A man of your age ought to know better than to talk such stuff, " he said. 

And Heaven knows but he may have been right. His red thatch of hair wasthick as ever, for all he'd grandchildren of his own. .. . 

Now what was coming to that barn of ours? Were spirits about? Who had beenin there one day suddenly and cleaned the place and made all comfortableand neat? Grindhusen and I had each our own bedplace; I had bought acouple of rugs, but he turned in every night fully dressed, with all hestood up in, and curled himself up in the hay all anyhow. And now herewere my two rugs laid neatly, looking for all the world like a bed. I'dnothing against it; 'twas one of the maids, no doubt, setting to teach meneat and orderly ways. 'Twas all one to me. 

I was ready now to start cutting through the floor upstairs, but Fruenbegged me to leave it to next day; her husband would be going over to theannexe, and that way I shouldn't disturb him. But next morning we had toput it off again; Frøken Elisabeth was going in to the store to buy no endof things, and I was to go with her and carry them. 

"Good, " said I, "I'll come on after. "

Strange girl! had she thought to put up with my company on the way? Shesaid:

"But do you think you can find the way alone?"

"Surely; I've been there before. It's where we buy our things. "

Now, I couldn't well walk through all the village in my working things allmessed up with clay: I put on my best trousers, but kept my blouse onover. So I walked on behind. It was a couple of miles or more; the lastpart of the way I caught sight of Frøken Elisabeth on ahead now and again, but I took care not to come up close. Once she looked round, and at that Imade myself utterly small, and kept to the fringe of the wood. 

Frøken Elisabeth stayed behind with some girl friend after she had doneher shopping; I carried the things back to the vicarage, getting in aboutnoon, and was asked in to dinner in the kitchen. The house seemeddeserted. Harald was away, the maids were wringing clothes, only Oline wasbusy in the kitchen. 

After dinner, I went upstairs, and started sawing in the passage. 

"Come and lend me a hand here, will you?" said Fruen, walking on in frontof me. 

We passed by her husband's study and into the bedroom. 

"I want my bed moved, " said Fruen. "It's too near the stove in winter, andI can't stand the heat. "

We moved the bed over to the window. 

"It'll be nicer here, don't you think? Cooler, " said she. 

And, happening to glance at her, I saw she was watching me with thatqueer, sideways look. .. . Ey. .. . And in a moment I was all flesh and bloodand foolishness. I heard her say:

"Are you mad?--Oh no, dear, please . .. The door. .. . "

Then I heard my name whispered again and again. .. . 

I sawed through the floor in the passage, and got everything done. Fruenwas there all the time. She was so eager to talk, to explain, and laughingand crying all the time. 

I said:

"That picture that was hanging over your bed--wouldn't it be as well tomove that too?"

"Ye--es, perhaps it would, " said Fruen. 

XI

Now all the pipes were laid, and the taps fixed; the water spurted out inthe sink in a fine, powerful jet. Grindhusen had borrowed the tools weneeded from somewhere else, so we could plaster up a few holes left hereand there; a couple of days more, and we had filled in the trench down thehillside, and our work at the vicarage was done. The priest was pleasedwith us; he offered to stick up a notice on the red post saying we wereexperts in the business of wells and pipes and water-supply, but, seeingit was so late in the year, and the frost might set in any time, itwouldn't have helped us much. We begged him instead to bear us in mindnext spring. 

Then we went over to the neighbouring farm to dig potatoes, promising tolook in at the vicarage again some time. 

There were many hands at work on the new place; we divided up into gangsand were merry enough. But the work would barely last over a week; afterthat we should have to shift again. 

One evening the priest came over and offered to take me on as an outdoorhand at the vicarage. It was a nice offer, and I thought about it for awhile, but ended by saying no. I would rather wander about and be my ownmaster, doing such work as I could find here and there, sleeping in theopen, and finding a trifle to wonder at in myself. I had come across a manhere in the potato fields that I might join company with when Grindhusenwas gone. This new man was a fellow after my own mind, and from what I hadheard and seen of him a good worker; Lars Falkberget was his name, wherefore he called himself Falkenberg. [Footnote: The latter name has amore distinguished sound than the native and rustic "Falkberget. "]

Young Erik was foreman and overseer in charge of the potato diggers, andcarted in the crop. He was a handsome lad of twenty, steady and sound forhis age, and a proper son of the house. There was something no doubtbetween him and Frøken Elisabeth from the vicarage, seeing she came overone day and stood talking with him out in the fields for quite a while. When she was leaving, she found a few words for me as well, saying Olinewas beginning to get used to the new contrivances of water-pipes and tap. 

"And yourself?" I asked. 

Out of politeness, she made some little answer to this also, but I couldsee she had no wish to stay talking to me. 

So prettily dressed she was, with a new light cloak that went so well withher blue eyes. .. . 

Next day Erik met with an accident; his horse bolted, dragging him acrossthe fields and throwing him up against a fence at last. He was badlymauled, and spitting blood; a few hours later, when he had come to himselfa little, he was still spitting blood. Falkenberg was now set to drive. 

I feigned to be distressed at what had happened, and went about silent andgloomy as the rest, but I did not feel so. I had no hope of FrøkenElisabeth for myself, indeed; still, I was rid of one that stood above mein her favour. 

That evening I went over to the churchyard and sat there a while. If onlyshe would come, I thought to myself. And after a quarter of an hour shecame. I got up suddenly, entirely as I had planned, made as if to slipaway and hide, then I stopped, stood helplessly and surrendered. But hereall my schemes and plans forsook me, and I was all weakness at having herso near; I began to speak of something. 

"Erik--to think it should have happened--and that, yesterday. .. . "

"I know about it, " she answered. 

"He was badly hurt. "

"Yes, yes, of course, he was badly hurt--why do you talk to me about him?"

"I thought. .. . No, I don't know. But, anyhow, he'll get better. And thenit will be all right again, surely. "

"Yes, yes. .. . "

Pause. 

It sounded as if she had been making fun of me. Then suddenly she saidwith a smile:

"What a strange fellow you are! What makes you walk all that way to comeand sit here of an evening?"

"It's just a little habit I've got lately. For something to do tillbedtime. "

"Then you're not afraid?"

Her jesting tone gave me courage; I felt myself on surer ground, andanswered:

"No, that's just the trouble. I wanted to learn to shiver and shake. "

"Learn to shiver and shake? Like the boy in the fairy tale. Now where didyou read about that, I wonder?"

"I don't know. In some book or other, I suppose. "

Pause. 

"Why wouldn't you come and work for us when Father asked you?"

"I'd be no good at that sort of work. I'm going out on the roads now withanother man. "

"Which way are you going?"

"That I cannot say. East or west. We are just wanderers. "

Pause. 

"I'm sorry, " she said. "I mean, I don't think it's wise of you. .. . Oh, butwhat was it you said about Erik? I only came to ask about him. .. . "

"He's in a baddish way now, but still. "

"Does the doctor think he will get better?"

"Yes, as far as I know. I've not heard otherwise. "

"Well--good-night. "

Oh to be young and rich and handsome, and famous and learned insciences!. .. There she goes. .. . 

Before leaving the churchyard I found a serviceable thumbnail and put itin my pocket. I waited a little, peering this way and that, and listening, but all was still. No voice came saying, "That's mine!"

XII

Falkenberg and I set out. It is evening; cool air and a lofty sky withstars lighting up. I persuaded him to go round by way of the churchyard;in my foolishness I wished to go that way, to see if there should be lightin one little window down at the vicarage. Oh to be young and rich and. .. . 

We walked some hours, having but little weight to carry, and, moreover, wewere two wanderers still a bit strange each to the other, so we could talka little. We passed by the first trading station, and came to another; wecould see the tower of the annexe church in the evening light. 

From sheer habit I would have gone into the churchyard here as well. Isaid:

"What do you think? We might find a place here for the night?"

"No sense on earth in that, " said Falkenberg, "when there's hay in everybarn along the road. And if we're turned out, there'll be shelter in thewoods. "

And we went on again, Falkenberg leading. 

He was a man of something over thirty. Tall and well-built, but with aslight stoop; his long moustaches rounded downwards. He was short ofspeech for the most, quick-witted and kindly; also he had a splendid voicefor songs; a different sort from Grindhusen in every way. And when hespoke he used odd words from different local dialects, with a touch ofSwedish here and there; no one could tell what part he came from. 

We came to a farmstead where the dogs barked, and folk were still about. Falkenberg asked to see the man. A lad came out. 

Had he any work for us?

No. 

But the fence there along by the road was all to pieces, if we couldn'tmend that, now?

No. Man himself had nothing else to do this time of the year. 

Could they give us shelter for the night?

Very sorry, but. .. . 

Not in the barn?

No, the girls were still sleeping there. 

"Swine, " muttered Falkenberg, as we moved away. We turned in through alittle wood, keeping a look out now for a likely place to sleep. 

"Suppose we went back to the farm now to the girls in the barn? Like asnot they wouldn't turn us out. "

Falkenberg thought for a moment. 

"The dogs will make a row, " he said. 

We came out into a field where two horses were loose. One had a bell atits neck. 

"Nice fellow this, " said Falkenberg, "with his horses still out and hiswomenfolk still sleeping in the barn. It'd be doing these poor beasts agood turn to ride them a bit. "

He caught the belled horse, stuffed its bell with grass and moss, and goton its back. My beast was shy, and I had a deal of trouble to get hold ofit. 

We rode across the field, found a gate, and came out on to the road. Weeach had one of my rugs to sit on, but neither had a bridle. 

Still, we managed well enough, managed excellently well; we rode close onfive miles, and came to another village. Suddenly we heard some one aheadalong the road. 

"Better take it at a gallop, " said Falkenberg over his shoulder. "Comealong. "

But Falkenberg was no marvel of a horseman, for all his leg; he clutchedthe bell-strap first, then slithered forward and hung on with both armsround the horse's neck. I caught a glimpse of one of his legs against thesky as he fell off. 

Fortunately, there was no great danger waiting us after all; only a youngcouple out sweethearting. 

Another half-hour's riding, and we were both of us stiff and sore. We gotdown, turned the horses' faces to home, and drove them off. And now wewere foot-passengers once more. 

_Gakgak, gakgak_--the sound came from somewhere far off. I knew itwell; it was the grey goose. When we were children, we were taught toclasp our hands and stand quite still, lest we should frighten the greygoose as it passed. No harm in that; no harm in doing so now. And so I do. A quiet sense of mystery steals through me; I hold my breath and gaze. There it comes, the sky trailing behind it like the wake of a ship. _Gakgak_, high overhead. And the splendid ploughshare glides alongbeneath the stars. .. . 

We found a barn at last, at a farmstead where all was still, and there weslept some hours. They found us next morning sound asleep. 

Falkenberg went up to the farmer at once and offered to pay for ourlodging. We had come in late the night before, he explained, and didn'tlike to wake folk out of their beds, but we were no runaways for all that. The man would not take our money; instead he gave us coffee in thekitchen. But he had no work for us; the harvest was in, and he and his ladhad nothing to do themselves now but mend their fences here and there. 

XIII

We tramped three days and found no work, but had to pay for our food anddrink, getting poorer every day. 

"How much have you got left, and how much have I got left? We'll never getany great way at this rate, " said Falkenberg. And he threw out a hint thatwe'd soon have to try a little stealing. 

We talked it over a bit, and agreed to wait and see how things turned out. Food was no difficulty, we could always get hold of a fowl or so at apinch. But ready money was the thing we really needed, and that we'd haveto get. If we couldn't manage it one way, we'd have to manage another. Wedidn't set up to be angels. 

"I'm no angel out of heaven alive, " said Falkenberg. "Here am I now, sitting around in my best clothes, and they no better than another man'sworkaday things. I can give them a wash in a stream, and sit and wait tillthey're dry; if there's a hole I mend it, and if I chance to earn a bitextra some day, I can get some more. And that's the end of it. "

"But young Erik said you were a beggar to drink. "

"That young cock. Drink--well, of course I do. No sense in only eating. .. . Let's look about for a place where there's a piano, " said Falkenberg. 

I thought to myself: a piano on a place means well-to-do folk; that'swhere he is going to start stealing. 

In the afternoon we came to just such a place. Falkenberg had put on mytown clothes beforehand, and given me his sack to carry so he could walkin easily, with an air. He went straight up to the front steps, and I lostsight of him for a bit, then he came out again and said yes, he was goingto tune their piano. 

"Going to _what?_"

"You be quiet, " said Falkenberg. "I've done it before, though I don't gobragging about it everywhere. "

He fished out a piano-tuner's key from his sack, and I saw he was inearnest. 

I was ordered to keep near the place while he was tuning. 

Well, I wandered about to pass the time; every now and then coming roundto the south side of the house, I could hear Falkenberg at work on thepiano in the parlour, and forcibly he dealt with it. He could not strike adecent chord, but he had a good ear; whenever he screwed up a string, hewas careful to screw it back again exactly where it was before, so theinstrument at any rate was none the worse. 

I got into talk with one of the farm-hands, a young fellow. He got twohundred Kroner a year, he said, besides his board. Up at half-past six inthe morning to feed the horses, or half-past five in the busy season. Workall day, till eight in the evening. But he was healthily content with hislife in that little world. I remember his fine, strong set of teeth, andhis pleasant smile as he spoke of his girl. He had given her a silver ringwith a gold heart on the front. 

"And what did she say to that?"

"Well, she was all of a wonder, you may be sure. "

"And what did you say?"

"What I said? Why, I don't know. Said I hoped she'd like it and welcome. I'd like to have given her stuff for a dress as well, but. .. . "

"Is she young?"

"Why, yes. Talk away like a little jews' harp. Young--I should think so. "

"And where does she live?"

"Ah, that I won't say. They'd know it all over the village if I did. "

And there I stood like another Alexander, so sure of the world, and halfcontemptuous of this boy and his poor little life. When we went away, Igave him one of my rugs; it was too much of a weight to go carrying two. He said at once he would give it to his girl; she would be glad of a nicewarm rug. 

And Alexander said: If I were not myself I would be you. .. . 

When Falkenberg had finished and came out, he was grown so elegant in hismanners all at once, and talked in such a delicate fashion, I could hardlyunderstand him. The daughter of the house came out with him. We were topass on without delay, he said, to the farm adjacent; there was a pianothere which needed some slight attention. And so _"Farvel, Frøken, Farvel. "_

"Six Kroner, my boy, " he whispered in my ear. "And another six at the nextplace, that's twelve. "

So off we went, and I carried our things. 

XIV

Falkenberg was right; the people at the next farm would not be outdone bytheir neighbours; their piano must be seen to as well. The daughter of thehouse was away for the moment, but the work could be done in her absenceas a little surprise for her when she came home. She had often complainedthat the piano was so dreadfully out of tune it was impossible to play onit at all. So now I was left to myself again as before, while Falkenbergwas busy in the parlour. When it got dark he had lights brought in andwent on tuning. He had his supper in there too, and when he had finished, he came out and asked me for his pipe. 

"Which pipe?"

"You fool! the one with the clenched fist, of course. "

Somewhat unwillingly I handed him my neatly carved pipe; I had just got itfinished; with the nail set in and a gold ring, and a long stem. 

"Don't let the nail get too hot, " I whispered, "or it might curl up. "

Falkenberg lit the pipe and went swaggering up with it indoors. But he putin a word for me too, and got them to give me supper and coffee in thekitchen. 

I found a place to sleep in the barn. 

I woke up in the night, and there was Falkenberg standing close by, andcalling me by name. The full moon shone right in, and I could see hisface. 

"What's the matter now?"

"Here's your pipe. Here you are, man, take it. "

"Pipe?"

"Yes, your pipe. I won't have the thing about me another minute. Look atit--the nail's all coming loose. "

I took the pipe, and saw the nail had begun to curl away from the wood. Said Falkenberg:

"The beastly thing was looking at me with a sort of nasty grin in themoonlight. And then when I remembered where you'd got that nail. .. . "

Happy Falkenberg!

Next morning when we were ready to start off again, the daughter of thehouse had come home. We heard her thumping out a waltz on the piano, and alittle after she came out and said:

"It's made no end of difference with the piano. Thank you very much. "

"I hope you may find it satisfactory, " said the piano-tuner grandly. 

"Yes, indeed. There's quite a different tone in it now. "

"And is there anywhere else Frøkenen could recommend. .. ?"

"Ask the people at Øvrebø; Falkenberg's the name. "

"_What_ name?"

"Falkenberg. Go straight on from here, and you'll come to a post on theright-hand side about a mile and a half along. Turn off there and that'lltake you to it. "

At that Falkenberg sat down plump at the steps and began asking all sortsof questions about the Falkenbergs at Øvrebø. Only to think he should comeacross his kinsmen here, and find himself, as it were, at home again. Hewas profusely grateful for the information. "Thanks most sincerely, Frøken. "

Then we went on our way again, and I carried the things. 

Once in the wood we sat down to talk over what was to be done. Was itadvisable, after all, for a Falkenberg of the rank of piano-tuner to gowalking up to the Captain at Øvrebø and claim relationship? I was the moretimid, and ended by making Falkenberg himself a little shy of it. On theother hand, it might be a merry jest. 

Hadn't he any papers with his name on? Certificates of some sort?

"Yes, but for _Fan_, there's nothing in them except saying I'm areliable workman. "

We cast about for some way of altering the papers a little, but finallyagreed it could be better to make a new one altogether. We might do onefor unsurpassed proficiency in piano-tuning and put in the Christian nameas Leopold instead of Lars. [Footnote: Again substituting an aristocraticfor a rustic name. ] There was no limit to what we could do in that way. 

"Think that you can write out that certificate?" he asked. 

"Yes, that I can. "

But now that wretched brain of mine began playing tricks, and making thewhole thing ridiculous. A piano-tuner wasn't enough, I thought; no, makehim a mechanical genius, a man who had solved most intricate problems, aninventor with a factory of his own. .. . 

"Then I wouldn't need to go about waving certificates, " said Falkenberg, and refused to listen any more. No, the whole thing looked like coming tonothing after all. 

Downcast and discouraged both, we tramped on till we came to the post. 

"You're not going up, are you?" I asked. 

"You can go yourself, " said Falkenberg sourly. "Here, take your rags ofthings. "

But a little way farther on he slackened his pace, and muttered:

"It's a wicked shame to throw away a chance like that. Why, it's just cutout for us as it is. "

"Well, then, why don't you go up and pay them a call? Who knows, you mightbe some relation after all. "

"I wish I'd thought to ask if he'd a nephew in America. "

"What then? Could you talk English to them if he had?"

"You mind your own business, and don't talk so much, " said Falkenberg. "Idon't see what you've got to brag about, anyway. "

He was nervous and out of temper, and began stepping out. Then suddenly hestopped and said:

"I'll do it. Lend me that pipe of yours again. I won't light it. "

We walked up the hill, Falkenberg putting on mighty airs, pointing thisway and that with the pipe and criticizing the place. It annoyed mesomewhat to see him stalking along in that vainglorious fashion while Icarried the load. I said:

"Going to be a piano-tuner this time?"

"I think I've shown I can tune a piano, " he said shortly. "I am good forthat at any rate. "

"But suppose there's some one in the house knows all about it--Fruen, forinstance--and tries the piano after you've done?"

Falkenberg was silent. I could see he was growing doubtful again. Littleby little his lordly gait sank to a slouching walk. 

"Perhaps we'd better not, " he said. "Here, take your pipe. We'll just goup and simply ask for work. "

XV

As it happened, there was a chance for us to make ourselves useful themoment we came on the place. They were getting up a new flagstaff, andwere short of hands. We set to work and got it up in fine style. There wasa crowd of women looking on from the window. 

Was Captain Falkenberg at home?

No. 

Or Fruen?

Fruen came out. She was tall and fair, and friendly as a young foal; andshe answered our greeting in the kindliest way. 

Had she any work for us now?

"Well, I don't know. I don't think so really, not while my husband'saway. "

I had an idea she found it hard to say no, and touched my cap and wasturning away, not to trouble her any more. But she must have foundsomething strange about Falkenberg, coming up like that wearing decentclothes, and with a man to carry his things; she looked at himinquisitively and asked:

"What sort of work?"

"Any kind of outdoor work, " said Falkenberg. "We can take on hedging andditching, bricklayer's work. .. . "

"Getting late in the year for that sort, " put in one of the men by theflagstaff. 

"Yes, I suppose it is, " Fruen agreed. "I don't know. .. . Anyhow, it's justdinner-time; if you'd like to go in and get something to eat meanwhile. Such as it is. "

"Thank you kindly, " answered Falkenberg. 

Now, that seemed to my mind a poor and vulgar way to speak; I felt heshamed us both in answering so, and it distressed me. So I must put in aword myself. 

_"Mille grâces, Madame; vous êtes trop aimable_, " I said gallantly, and took off my cap. 

Fruen turned round and stared at me in astonishment; the look on her facewas comical to see. 

We were shown into the kitchen and given an excellent meal. Fruen wentindoors. When we had finished, and were starting off, she came out again;Falkenberg had got back his courage now, and, taking advantage of herkindness offered to tune the piano. 

"Can you tune pianos too?" she asked, in surprise. 

"Yes, indeed; I tuned the one on the farm down below. "

"Mine's a grand piano, and a good one. I shouldn't like it. .. . "

"Fruen can be easy about that. "

"Have you any sort of. .. . "

"I've no certificate, no. It's not my way to ask for such. But Fruen cancome and hear me. "

"Well, perhaps--yes, come this way. "

She went into the house, and he followed. I looked through the doorway asthey went in, and saw a room with many pictures on the walls. 

The maids fussed about in and out of the kitchen, casting curious glancesat me, stranger as I was; one of the girls was quite nice-looking. I wasthankful I had shaved that morning. 

Some ten minutes passed; Falkenberg had begun. Fruen came out into thekitchen again and said:

"And to think you speak French! It's more than I do. "

Now, Heaven be thanked for that. I had no wish to go farther with itmyself. If I had, it would have been mostly hackneyed stuff, aboutreturning to our muttons and looking for the lady in the case, and theState, that's me, and so on. 

"Your friend showed me his papers, " said Fruen. "You seem to be decentfolk. I don't know. .. . I might telegraph to my husband and ask if he's anywork for you. "

I would have thanked her, but could not get a word out for swallowing atsomething in my throat. 

Neurasthenia!

Afterwards I went out across the yard and walked about the fields a bit;all was in good order everywhere, and the crops in under cover. Even thepotato stalks had been carted away though there's many places wherethey're left out till the snow comes. I could see nothing for us to do atall. Evidently these people were well-to-do. 

When it was getting towards evening, and Falkenberg was still tuning, Itook a bit of something to eat in my pocket and went off for a walk, to beout of the way so they should not ask me in to supper. There was a moon, and the stars were out, but I liked best to grope my way into the densepart of the wood and sit down in the dark. It was more sheltered there, too. How quiet the earth and air seemed now! The cold is beginning, thereis rime on the ground; now and again a stalk of grass creaks faintly, alittle mouse squeaks, a rook comes soaring over the treetops, then all isquiet again. Was there ever such fair hair as hers? Surely never. Born awonder, from top to toe, her lips a ripened loveliness, and the play ofdragonflies in her hair. If only one could draw out a diadem from a sackof clothes and give it her. I'll find a pink shell somewhere and carve itto a thumbnail, and offer her the pipe to give her husband for apresent . .. Yes. .. . 

Falkenberg comes across the yard to meet me, and whispers hurriedly:

"She's got an answer from the Captain; he says we can set to work fellingtimber in the woods. Are you any good at that?"

"Yes. "

"Well, then, go inside, into the kitchen. She's been asking for you. "

I went in and Fruen said:

"I wondered where you'd got to. Sit down and have something to eat. _Had_ your supper? Where?"

"We've food with us in the sack. "

"Well, there was no need to do that. Won't you have a cup of tea, then?Nothing?. .. I've had an answer from my husband. Can you fell trees? Well, that's all right. Look, here it is: 'Want couple of men felling timber, Petter will show trees marked. '. .. . "

Heaven--she stood there beside me, pointing to the message. And the scentof a young girl in her breath. .. . 

XVI

In the woods. Petter is one of the farm-hands; he showed us the way here. 

When we talked together, Falkenberg was not by any means so grateful toFruen for giving us work. "Nothing to bow and scrape for in that, " hesaid. "It's none so easy to get workmen these days. " Falkenberg, by theway, was nothing out of the ordinary in the woodcutting line, while I'dhad some experience of the work in another part of the world, and so couldtake a lead in this at a finish. And he agreed I was to be leader. 

Just now I began working in my mind on an invention. 

With the ordinary sort of saw now in use, the men have to lie downcrookedwise on the ground and pull _sideways_. And that's why there'snot so much gets done in a day, and a deal of ugly stumps left after inthe woods. Now, with a conical transmission apparatus that could bescrewed on to the root, it should be possible to work the saw with astraight back-and-forward movement, but the blade cutting horizontally allthe time. I set to work designing parts of a machine of this sort. Thething that puzzled me most was how to get the little touch of pressure onthe blade that's needed. It might be done by means of a spring that couldbe wound up by clockwork, or perhaps a weight would do it. The weightwould be easier, but uniform, and, as the saw went deeper, it would begetting harder all the time, and the same pressure would not do. A steelspring, on the other hand, would slacken down as the cut grew deeper, andalways give the right amount of pressure. I decided on the spring system. "You can manage it, " I told myself. And the credit for it would be thegreatest thing in my life. 

The days passed, one like another; we felled our nine-inch timber, and cutoff twigs and tops. We lived in plenty, taking food and coffee with uswhen we started for the woods, and getting a hot meal in the evening whenwe came home. Then we washed and tidied ourselves--to be nicer-manneredthan the farm-hands--and sat in the kitchen, with a big lamp alight, andthree girls. Falkenberg had become Emma's sweetheart. 

And every now and then there would come a wave of music from the piano inthe parlour; sometimes Fruen herself would come out to us with her girlishyouth and her blessed kindly ways. "And how did you get on today?" shewould ask. "Did you meet a bear in the woods?" But one evening she thankedFalkenberg for doing her piano so nicely. What? did she mean it?Falkenberg's weather-beaten face grew quite handsome with pleasure; I feltproud of him when he answered modestly that he thought himself it was alittle better now. 

Either he had gained by his experience in tuning already, or Fruen wasgrateful to him for not having spoiled the grand piano. 

Falkenberg dressed up in my town clothes every evening. It wouldn't do forme to take them back now and wear them myself; every one would believe I'dborrowed them from him. 

"Let me have Emma, and you can keep the clothes, " I said in jest. 

"All right, you can take her, " he answered. 

I began to see then that Falkenberg was growing cooler towards his girl. Oh, but Falkenberg had fallen in love too, the same as I. What simple boyswe were!

"Wonder if she will give us a look in this evening again?" Falkenbergwould say while we were out at work. 

And I would answer that I didn't care how long the Captain stayed away. 

"No, you're right, " said Falkenberg. "And I say, if I find he isn't decentto her, there'll be trouble. "

Then one evening Falkenberg gave us a song. And I was proud of him asever. Fruen came out, and he had to sing it over again, and another oneafter; his fine voice filled the room, and Fruen was delighted, and saidshe had never heard anything like it. 

And then it was I began to be envious. 

"Have you learnt singing?" asked Fruen. "Can you read music at all?"

"Yes, indeed, " said Falkenberg. "I used to sing in a club. "

Now that was where he should have said: no, worse luck, he'd neverlearned, so I thought to myself. 

"Have you ever sung to any one? Has any one ever heard you?"

"I've sung at dances and parties now and again. And once at a wedding. "

"But I mean for any one that knew: has any one tried your voice?"

"No, not that I know of--or yes, I think so, yes. "

"Well, won't you sing some more now? Do. "

And Falkenberg sang. 

The end of it'll be he'll be asked right into the parlour one evening, Ithought to myself, with Fruen--to play for him. I said:

"Beg pardon, but won't the Captain be coming home soon?"

"Yes, soon, " answered Fruen. "Why do you ask?'

"I was only thinking about the work. "

"Have you felled all the trees that were marked?"

"No, not yet--no, not by a long way. But. .. . "

"Oh. .. . " said Fruen suddenly, as if she had just thought of something. "You must have some money. Yes, of course. .. . "

I grasped at that to save myself, and answered:

"Thank you very much. "

Falkenberg said nothing. 

"Well, you've only to ask, you know. _Varsaagod_" and she handed methe money I had asked for. "And what about you?"

"Nothing, thank you all the same, " answered Falkenberg. 

Heavens, how I had lost again--fallen to earth again! And Falkenberg, thatshameless imposter, who sat there playing the man of property who didn'tneed anything in advance. I would tear my clothes off him that very night, and leave him naked. 

Only, of course, I did nothing of the sort. 

XVII

And two days went by. 

"If she comes out again this evening, " Falkenberg would say up in thewoods, "I'll sing that one about the poppy. I'd forgotten that. "

"You've forgotten Emma, too, haven't you?" I ask. 

"Emma? Look here, I'll tell you what it is: you're just the same as ever, that's what you are. "

"Ho, am I?"

"Yes; inside, I mean. You wouldn't mind taking Emma right there, withFruen looking on. But I couldn't do that. "

"That's a lie!" I answered angrily. "You won't see me tangled up in anyfoolery with the girls as long as I am here. "

"Ah, and I shan't be out at nights with any one after. Think she'll comethis evening? I'd forgotten that one about the poppy till now. Justlisten. "

Falkenberg sang the Poppy Song. 

"You're lucky, being able to sing like that, " I said. "But there's neitherof us'll get her, for all that. "

"Get her! Why, whoever thought. .. . What a fool you are!"

"Ah, if I were young and rich and handsome, I'd win her all the same, " Isaid. 

"If--and if. .. . So could I, for the matter of that. But there's theCaptain. "

"Yes, and then there's you. And then there's me. And then there's herselfand everybody else in the world. And we're a couple of brutes to betalking about her like this at all, " said I, furious now with myself formy own part. "A nice thing, indeed, for two old woodcutters to speak oftheir mistress so. "

We grew pale and thin the pair of us, and the wrinkles showed up inFalkenberg's drawn face; neither of us could eat as we used. And by way oftrying to hide our troubles from each other, I went about talking allsorts of cheerful nonsense, while Falkenberg bragged loudly at every mealof how he'd got to eating too much of late, and was getting slack and outof form. 

"Why, you don't seem to eat anything at all, " Fruen would say when we camehome with too much left of the food we had taken with us. "Nicewoodcutters, indeed. "

"It's Falkenberg that won't eat, " said I. 

"Ho, indeed!" said Falkenberg; "I like that. _He's_ given up eatingaltogether. "

Now and again when she asked us to do her a favour, some little service orother, we would both hurry to do it; at last we got to bringing in waterand firewood of our own accord. But one day Falkenberg played me a meantrick: he came home with a bunch of hazel twigs for a carpet-beater, thatFruen had asked me expressly to cut for her. 

And he sang every evening now. 

Then it was I resolved to make Fruen jealous--ey, ey, my good man, are youmad now, or merely foolish? As if Fruen would ever give it as much as athought, whatever you did. 

But so it was. I would try to make her jealous. 

Of the three girls on the place, there was only one that could possibly beused for the experiment, and that was Emma. So I started talking nonsenseto Emma. 

"Emma, I know of some one that is sighing for you. "

"And where did you get to know of that, pray?"

"From the stars above. "

"I'd rather hear of it from some one here on earth. "

"I can tell you that, too. At first hand. "

"It's himself he means, " put in Falkenberg, anxious to keep well out ofit. 

"Well, and I don't mind saying it is. _Paratum cor meum_. "

But Emma was ungracious, and didn't care to talk to me, for all I wasbetter at languages than Falkenberg. What--could I not even master Emma?Well . .. I turned proud and silent after that, and went my own ways, making drawings for that machine of mine and little models. And whenFalkenberg was singing of an evening, and Fruen listening, I went acrossto the men's quarters and stayed there with them. Which, of course, wasmuch more dignified. The only trouble about it was that Petter was ill inbed, and couldn't stand the noise of ax and hammer, so I had to go outsideevery time I'd any heavy piece of work to do. 

Still, now and again I fancied Fruen might perhaps be sorry, after all, atmissing my company in the kitchen. It looked so, to me. One evening, whenwe were at supper, she turned to me and said:

"What's that the men were saying about a new machine you're making?"

"It's a new kind of saw he's messing about with, " said Falkenberg. "Butit's too heavy to be any good. "

I made no answer to that, but craftily preferred to be wronged. Was it notthe fate of all inventors to be so misjudged? Only wait: my time was notyet come. There were moments when I could hardly keep from bursting outwith a revelation to the girls, of how I was really a man of good family, led astray by desperation over an unhappy love affair, and now taking todrink. Alas, yes, man proposes, God disposes. .. . And then, perhaps, Fruenherself might come to hear of it. .. . 

"I think I'll take to going over with the men in the evenings, " saidFalkenberg, "the same as you. "

And I knew well enough why Falkenberg had suddenly taken it into his headto spend his evenings there; he was not asked to sing now as often asbefore; some way or other, he was less in demand of late. 

XVIII

The Captain had returned. 

A big man, with a full beard, came out to us one day while we were atwork, and said:

"I'm Captain Falkenberg. Well, lads, how goes it?"

We greeted him respectfully, and answered: "Well enough. "

Then there was some talk of what we had done and what remained to do. TheCaptain was pleased with our work--all clean cut and close to the root. Then he reckoned out how much we had got through per day, and said it cameto a good average. 

"Captain's forgetting Sundays. " said I. 

"That's true, " said he. "Well, that makes it over the average. Had anytrouble at all with the tools? Is the saw all right?"

"Quite all right. "

"And nobody hurt?"

"No. "

Pause. 

"You ought by rights to provide your own food, " he said, "but if you wouldrather have it the other way, we can square it when we come to settle up. "

"We'll be glad to have it as Captain thinks best. "

"Yes, " agreed Falkenberg as well. 

The Captain took a turn up through the wood and came back again. 

"Couldn't have better weather, " he said. "No snow to shovel away. "

"No, there's no snow--that's true; but a little more frost'd do no harm. "

"Why? Cooler to work in d'you mean?"

"That, too, perhaps; yes. But the saw cuts easier when timber's frozen. "

"You're an old hand at this work, then?"

"Yes. "

"And are you the one that sings?"

"No, more's the pity. He is the one that sings. "

"Oh, so you are the singer, are you? We're namesakes, I believe?"

"Why, yes, in a way, " said Falkenberg, a little awkwardly, "My name isLars Falkenberg, and I've my certificate to show for that. "

"What part d'you come from?"

"From Trøndelagen. "

The Captain went home. He was friendly enough, but spoke in a short, decisive way, with never a smile or a jesting word. A good face, somethingordinary. 

From that day onwards Falkenberg never sang but in the men's quarters, orout in the open; no more singing in the kitchen now the Captain had comehome. Falkenberg was irritable and gloomy; he would swear at times and saylife wasn't worth living these days; a man might as well go and hanghimself and have done with it. But his fit of despair soon came to an end. One Sunday he went back to the two farms where he had tuned the pianos, and asked for a recommendation from each. When he came back he showed methe papers, and said:

"They'll do to keep going with for a bit. "

"Then you're not going to hang yourself, after all?"

"You've better cause to go that way, if you ask me, " said Falkenberg. 

But I, too, was less despairing now. When the Captain heard about mymachine idea, he wanted to know more about it at once. He saw at the firstglance that my drawings were far from perfect, being made on small piecesof paper, and without so much as a pair of dividers to work with. He lentme a set of drawing instruments, and gave me some useful hints about howsuch things were done. He, too, was afraid my saw would prove toocumbersome. "But keep on with it, anyway, " he said. "Get the whole thingdrawn to a definite scale, then we can see. "

I realized, however, that a decently constructed model of the thing wouldgive a better idea of it, and as soon as I was through with the drawings Iset to work carving a model in wood. I had no lathe, and had to whittleout the two rollers and several wheels and screws by hand. I was workingat this on the Sunday, and so taken up with it I never heard thedinner-bell. The Captain came out and called, "Dinner!" Then, when he sawwhat I was doing, he offered to drive over himself to the smithy the verynext day, and get the parts I needed cut on the lathe. "All you need do isto give me the measurements, " he said. "And you must want some tools, surely? Saw and drills; right! Screws, yes, and a fine chisel . .. Is thatall?"

He made a note of the things on the spot. A first-rate man to work under. 

But in the evening, when I had finished supper and was crossing thecourtyard to the men's room, Fruen called me. She was standing between thekitchen windows, in the shadow, but slipped forward now. 

"My husband said . .. He . .. Said . .. You can't be warm enough in thesethin clothes, " she said. "And would you . .. Here, take these. "

She bundled a whole suit into my arms. 

I thanked her, stammering foolishly. I was going to get myself some newthings soon. There was no hurry; I didn't need. .. . 

"Of course, I know you can get things yourself. But when your friend isso . .. So . .. Oh, take these. "

And she ran away indoors again, the very fashion of a young girl fearingto be caught doing something over-kind. I had to call my last thanks afterher. 

When the Captain came out next evening with my wheels and rollers, I tookthe opportunity of thanking him for the clothes. 

"Oh--er--yes, " he answered. "It was my wife that. .. . Do they fit you allright?"

"Yes; many thanks. "

"That's all right, then. Yes; it was my wife that . .. Well, here are thethings for your machine, and the tools. Good-night. "

It seemed, then, as if the two of them were equally ready to do an act ofkindness. And when it was done, each would lay the blame on the other. Surely this must be the perfect wedded life, that dreamers dreamed of hereon earth. .. . 

XIX

The woods are stripped of leaf now, and the bird sounds are gone; only thecrows rasp out their screeching note at five in the morning, when theyspread out over the fields. We see them, Falkenberg and I, as we go to ourwork; the yearling birds, that have not yet learned fear of the world, hopalong the path before our feet. 

Then we meet the finch, the sparrow of the timbered lands. He has been outin the woods already, and is coming back now to humankind, that he likesto live with and study from all sides. Queer little finch. A bird ofpassage, really, but his parents have taught him that one _can_ spenda winter in the north; and now he will teach his children that the north'sthe only place to spend the winter in at all. But there is still a touchof emigrant blood in him, and he remains a wanderer. One day he and hiswill gather together and set off for somewhere else, many parishes away, to study a new collection of humans there--and in the aspen grove never afinch to be seen. And it may be a whole week before a new flock of thiswinged life appears and settles in the same place. .. . _Herregud!_ howmany a time have I watched the finches in their doings, and found pleasurein all. 

One day Falkenberg declares he is all right again now. Going to save upand put aside a hundred Kroner this winter, out of tuning pianos andfelling trees, and then make up again with Emma. I, too, he suggests, would be better advised to give over sighing for ladies of high degree, and go back to my own rank and station. 

Falkenberg was right. 

On Saturday evening we stopped work a trifle earlier than usual to go upand get some things from the store. We wanted shirts, tobacco and wine. 

While we were in the store I caught sight of a little work-box, ornamentedwith shells, of the kind seafaring men used to buy in the old days atAmsterdam, and bring home to their girls; now the Germans make them by thethousand. I bought the workbox, with the idea of taking out one of theshells to serve as a thumbnail for my pipe. 

"What d'you want with a workbox?" asked Falkenberg. "Is it for Emma, what?" He grew jealous at the thought, and not to be outdone, he bought asilk handkerchief to give her himself. 

On the way back we sampled the wine, and got talking. Falkenberg was stilljealous, so I took out the workbox, chose the shell I wanted, and pickedit off and gave him the box. After that we were friends again. 

It was getting dark now, and there was no moon. Suddenly we heard thesound of a concertina from a house up on a hillside; we could see therewas dancing within, from the way the light came and went like a lighthousebeam. 

"Let's go up and look, " said Falkenberg. 

Coming up to the house, we found a little group of lads and girls outsidetaking the air. Emma was there as well. 

"Why, there's Emma!" cried Falkenberg cheerily, not in the least put outto find she had gone without him. "Emma, here, I've got something foryou!"

He reckoned to make all good with a word, but Emma turned away from himand went indoors. Then, when he moved to go after her, others barred hisway, hinting pretty plainly that he wasn't wanted there. 

"But Emma is there. Ask her to come out. "

"Emma's not coming out. She's here with Markus Shoemaker. "

Falkenberg stood there helpless. He had been cold to Emma now for so longthat she had given him up. And, seeing him stand there stupidly agape, some of the girls began to make game of him: had she left him all alone, then, and what would he ever do now, poor fellow?

Falkenberg set his bottle to his lips and drank before the eyes of all, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and passed to the nearestman. There was a better feeling now towards us; we were good fellows, withbottles in our pockets, and willing to pass them round; moreover, we werestrangers in the place, and that was always something new. Also, Falkenberg said many humorous things of Markus Shoemaker, whom hepersisted in calling Lukas. 

The dance was still going on inside, but none of the girls left us to goin and join. 

"I'll bet you now, " said Falkenberg, with a swagger, "that Emma'd be onlytoo glad to be out here with us. "

Helene and Rønnaug and Sara were there; every time they drank, they gavetheir hands prettily by way of thanks, as the custom is, but some of theothers that had learned a trifle of town manners said only, "_Tak forSkjænken_, " and no more. Helene was to be Falkenberg's girl, it seemed;he put his arm round her waist and said she was his for tonight. And whenthey moved off farther and farther away from the rest of us, none calledto them to come back; we paired off, all of us, after a while, and wentour separate ways into the woods. I went with Sara. 

When we came out from the wood again, there stood Rønnaug still taking theair. Strange girl, had she been standing there alone all the time? I tookher hand and talked to her a little, but she only smiled to all I said andmade no answer. We went off towards the wood, and Sara called after us inthe darkness: "Rønnaug, come now and let's go home. " But Rønnaug made noanswer; it was little she said at all. Soft, white as milk, and tall, andstill. 

XX

The first snow is come; it thaws again at once, but winter is not far off, and we are nearing the end of our woodcutting now at Øvrebø--another weekor so, perhaps, no more. What then? There was work on the railway line upon the, hills, or perhaps more woodcutting at some other place we mightcome to. Falkenberg was for trying the railway. 

But I couldn't get done with my machine in so short a time. We'd each ourown affairs to take our time; apart from the machine, there was thatthumbnail for the pipe I wanted to finish, and the evenings came out alltoo short. As for Falkenberg, he had made it up with Emma again. And thatwas a difficult matter and took time. She had been going about with MarkusShoemaker, 'twas true, but Falkenberg for his part could not deny havinggiven Helene presents--a silk handkerchief and a work box set with shells. 

Falkenberg was troubled, and said:

"Everything is wrong, somehow. Nothing but bother and worry and foolery. "

"Why, as to that. .. "

"That's what I call it, anyway, if you want to know. She won't come up inthe hills as we said. "

"It'll be Markus Shoemaker, then, that's keeping her back?"

Falkenberg was gloomily silent. Then, after a pause:

"They wouldn't even have me go on singing. "

We got to talking of the Captain and his wife. Falkenberg had anill-forboding all was not as it might be between them. 

Gossiping fool! I put in a word:

"You'll excuse me, but you don't know what you are talking about. "

"Ho!" said he angrily. And, growing more and more excited, he went on:"Have you ever seen them, now, hanging about after each other? I've neverheard them say so much as a word. "

The fool!--the churl!

"Don't know what is the matter with you to-day the way you're sawing. Look--what do you think of that for a cut?"

"Me? We're two of us in it, anyway, so there. "

"Good! Then we'll say it's the thaw. Let's get back to the ax again. "

We went on working each by himself for a while, angered and out of humourboth. What was the lie he had dared to say of them, that they never somuch as spoke to each other? But, Heaven, he was right! Falkenberg had akeen scent for such things. He knew something of men and women. 

"At any rate, they speak nicely of each other to us, " I said. 

Falkenberg went on with his work. 

I thought over the whole thing again. 

"Well, perhaps you may be right as far as that goes, that it's not thewedded life dreamers have dreamed of, still. .. . "

But it was no good talking to Falkenberg in that style; he understoodnever a word. 

When we stopped work at noon, I took up the talk again. 

"Didn't you say once if he wasn't decent to her there'd be trouble?"

"Yes, I did. "

"Well, there hasn't been trouble. "

"Did I ever say he wasn't decent to her?" said Falkenberg irritably. "No, but they're sick and wearied of each other--that's what it is. When onecomes in, the other goes out. Whenever he starts talking of anything outin the kitchen, her eyes go all dead and dull, and she doesn't listen. "

We got to work again with the ax, each thinking his own ways. 

"I doubt but I'll need to give him a thrashing, " said Falkenberg. 

"Who?"

"Lukas. .. . "

I got my pipe done, and sent Emma in with it to the Captain. The nail hadturned out fine and natural this time, and with the fine tools I had now, I was able to cut well down into the thumb and fasten it on the underside, so that the two little copper pins would not show. I was pleased enoughwith the work. 

The Captain came out while we were at supper that evening, to thank me forthe pipe. At the same time, I noticed that Falkenberg was right; no soonerhad the Captain come out than Fruen went in. 

The Captain praised my pipe, and asked how I had managed to fix the nail;he said I was an artist and a master. All the others were standing by andheard his words--and it counted for something to be called an artist bythe Captain himself. I believe I could have won Emma at that moment. 

That night I learned to shiver and shake. 

The corpse of a woman came up to me where I lay in the loft, and stretchedout its left hand to show me: the thumbnail was missing. I shook my head, to say I had had a thumbnail once, but I had thrown it away, and used ashell instead. But the corpse stood there all the same, and there I lay, shivering, cold with fear. Then I managed to say I couldn't help it now;in God's name, go away! And, Our Father which art in heaven. .. . The corpsecame straight towards me; I thrust out two clenched fists and gave an icyshriek--and there I was, crushing Falkenberg flat against the wall. 

"What is it?" cried Falkenberg. "In Heaven's name. .. . "

I woke, dripping with sweat, and lay there with open eyes, watching thecorpse as it vanished quite slowly in the dark of the room. 

"It's the corpse, " I groaned. "Come to ask for her thumbnail. " Falkenbergsat straight up in bed, wide awake all at once. 

"I saw her, " he said. 

"Did you see her, too? Did you see her thumb? Ugh!"

"I wouldn't be in your shoes now for anything. "

"Let me lie inside, against the wall, " I begged. 

"And what about me?"

"It won't hurt you; you can lie outside all right. "

"And let her come and take me first? Not if I know it. "

And at that Falkenberg lay down again and pulled the rug over his eyes. 

I thought for a moment of going down to sleep with Petter; he was gettingbetter now, and there was no fear of infection. But I was afraid to godown the stairs. 

It was a terrible night. 

Next morning I searched high and low for the nail, and found it on thefloor at last, among the shavings and sawdust. I took it out and buried iton the way to the wood. 

"It's a question if you oughtn't to carry it back where you took it from, "said Falkenberg. 

"Why, that's miles away--a whole long journey. .. . "

"They won't ask about that if you're called to do it. Maybe she won't careabout having a thumb one place and a thumbnail in another. "

But I was brave enough now; a very desperado in the daylight. I laughed atFalkenberg for his superstition, and told him science had disposed of allsuch nonsense long ago. 

XXI

One evening there came visitors to the place, and as Petter was stillpoorly, and the other lad was only a youngster, I had to go and take outthe horses. A lady got out of the carriage. 

"Is any one at home?" she asked. 

The sound of wheels had brought faces to the windows; lamps were lit inthe rooms and passages. Fruen came out, calling:

"Is that you, Elisabeth? I'm so glad you've come. "

It was Frøken Elisabeth from the vicarage. 

"Is _he_ here?" she asked in surprise. 

"Who?"

It was myself she meant. So she had recognized me. .. . 

Next day the two young ladies came out to us in the wood. At first I wasafraid lest some rumour of a certain nightly ride on borrowed horsesshould have reached the vicarage, but calmed myself when nothing was saidof it. 

"The water-pipes are doing nicely, " said Frøken Elisabeth. 

I was pleased to hear it. 

"Water-pipes?" said Fruen inquiringly. 

"He laid on a water-supply to the house for us. Pipes in the kitchen andupstairs as well. Just turn a tap and there it is. You ought to have itdone here. "

"Really, though? Could it be done here, do you think?"

I answered: yes; it ought to be easy enough. 

"Why didn't you speak to my husband about it?"

"I did speak of it. He said he would see what Fruen thought about it. "

Awkward pause. So he would not speak to her even of a thing that so nearlyconcerned herself. I hastened to break the silence, and said at random. 

"Anyhow, it's too late to start this year; the winter would be on usbefore we could get it done. But next spring. .. . "

Fruen seemed to come back to attention from somewhere far away. 

"Oh yes, I remember now, he did say something about it, " she said. "Wetalked it over. But it was too late this year. .. . Elisabeth, don't youlike watching them felling trees?"

We used a rope now and then to guide the tree in its fall. Falkenberg hadjust fixed this rope high up, and the tree stood swaying. 

"What's that for?"

"To make it fall the right way, " I began. But Fruen did not care to listento me any more; she turned to Falkenberg and put the question to himdirectly:

"Does it matter which way it falls?"

Falkenberg had to answer her. 

"Why, no, we'll need to guide it a bit, so it doesn't break down too muchof the young growth when it falls. "

"Did you notice, " said Fruen to her friend, "what a voice he has? He's theone that sings. "

How I hated myself now for having talked so much, instead of reading herwish! But at least I would show her that I understood the hint. And, moreover, it was Frøken Elisabeth and no other I was in love with; she wasnot full of changing humours, and was just as pretty as the other--ay, athousand times prettier. I would go and take work at her father'splace. .. . I took care now, whenever Fruen spoke, to look first atFalkenberg and then at her, keeping back my answer as if fearing to speakout of my turn. I think, too, she began to feel a little sorry when shenoticed this, for once she said, with a little troubled smile: "Yes, yes, it was you I asked. "

That smile with her words. .. . Then came a whirl of joy at my heart; Ibegan swinging the ax with all the strength I had gained from long use, and made fine deep cuts, I heard only a word now and then of what theysaid. 

"They want me to sing to them this evening, " said Falkenberg, when theyhad gone. 

Evening came. 

I stood out in the courtyard, talking to the Captain. Three or four daysmore, and our work on the timber would be at an end. 

"And where will you be going then?" asked the Captain. 

"We were going to get work on the railway. "

"I might find you something--to do here, " said the Captain. "I want thedrive down to the high road carried a different way; it's too steep as itis. Come and see what I mean. "

He took me round to the south side of the house, and pointed this way andthat, though it was already dark. 

"And by the time that's done, and one or two other little things, we shallbe well on to the spring, " he said. "And then there'll be the water, asyou said. And, besides, there's Petter laid up still; we can't get alonglike this. I must have another hand to help. "

Suddenly we heard Falkenberg singing. There was a light in the parlour;Falkenberg was in there, singing to an accompaniment on the piano. Themusic welled out toward us--the man had a remarkable voice--and made mequiver against my will. 

The Captain started, and glanced up at the windows. 

"No, " he said suddenly; "I think, after all, we'd betterleave the drive till next spring as well. How soon did you say you'd bethrough with the timber?"

"Three or four days. "

"Good! We'll say three or four days more for that, and then finish forthis year. "

A strangely sudden decision. I thought to myself. And aloud I said:

"There's no reason why we shouldn't do the road work in winter. It'sbetter in some ways. There's the blasting, and getting up the loads. .. . "

"Yes, I know . .. But . .. Well, I think I must go in now and listen tothis. .. . "

The Captain went indoors. 

It crossed my mind that he did so out of courtesy, wishing to makehimself, as it were, responsible for having Falkenberg in the parlour. ButI fancied he would rather have stayed talking with me. 

Which was a coxcomb's thought, and altogether wrong. 

XXII

I had got the biggest parts of my machine done, and could fix themtogether and try it. There was an old stump by the barn-bridge from anaspen that had been blown down; I fixed my apparatus to that, and found atonce that the saw would cut all right. Aha, now, what have you got to say?Here's the problem solved! I had bought a huge saw-blade and cut teeth alldown the back; these teeth fitted into a little cogwheel set to take thefriction, and driven forward by the spring. The spring itself I hadfashioned originally from a broad staybusk Emma had given me, but, when Icame to test it; it proved too weak; so I made another from a saw-bladeonly six millimetres across, after I had first filed off the teeth. Thisnew spring, however, was too strong; I had to manage as best I could bywinding it only half-way up, and then, when it ran down, half-way upagain. 

I knew too little theory, worse luck; it was a case of feeling my way atevery step, and this made it a slow proceeding. The conical gear, forinstance, I found too heavy when I came to put it into practice, and hadto devise a different system altogether. 

It was on a Sunday that I fixed my apparatus to the stump; the new whitewoodwork and the shining saw-blade glittered in the sun. Soon facesappeared at the windows, and the Captain himself came. He did not answermy greeting, so intent was he on the machine. 

"Well, how do you think it will work?"'

I set it going. 

"Upon my soul, I believe it will. .. . "

Fruen and Frøken Elisabeth came out, all the maids came out, Falkenbergcame out, and I let them see it work. Aha, what did I say?

Said the Captain presently:

"Won't it take up too much time, fixing the apparatus to one tree afteranother?"

"Part of the time will be made up by easier work. No need to keep stoppingfor breath. "

"Why not?"

"Because the lateral pressure's effected by the spring. It's just thatpressure that makes the hardest work. "

"And what about the rest of the time?"

"I'm going to discard this screw-on arrangement and have a clamp instead, that can be pressed down by the foot. A clamp with teeth to give a bettergrip, and adjustable to any sized timber. "

I showed him a drawing of this clamp arrangement; I had not had time tomake the thing itself. 

The Captain took a turn at the saw himself, noticing carefully the amountof force required. He said:

"It's a question whether it won't be too heavy, pulling a saw twice thewidth of an ordinary woodcutting saw. "

"Ay, " agreed Falkenberg; "it looks that way. "

All looked at Falkenberg, and then at me. It was my turn now. 

"A single man can push a goods truck with full load on rails, " I said. "And here there'll be two men to work a saw with the blade running on tworollers over oiled steel guides. It'll be easier to work than the old typeof saw--a single man could work it, if it came to a pinch. "

"It sounds almost impossible. "

"Well, we shall see. "

Frøken Elisabeth asked half in jest:

"But tell me--I don't understand these things a bit, you know--whywouldn't it be better to saw a tree across in the old way?"

"He's trying to get rid of the lateral pressure; that's a strain on themen working, " explained the Captain. "With a saw like this you can, as hesays, make a horizontal cut with the same sort of pressure you would usefor an ordinary saw cutting down vertically. It's simply this: you pressdownwards, but the pressure's transmitted sideways. By the way, " he wenton, turning to me, "has it struck you there might be a danger of pressingdown the ends of the blade, and making a convex cut?"

"That's obviated in the first place by these rollers under the blade. "

"True; that goes for something. And in the second place?"

"In the second place, it would be impossible to make a convex cut withthis apparatus even if you wanted to. The blade, you see, has a T-shapedback; that makes it practically impossible to bend it. "

I fancy the Captain put forward some of his objections against his ownconviction. Knowing all he did, he could have answered them himself betterthan I. On the other hand, there were points he did not notice, but whichcaused me some anxiety. A machine that was to be carried about in thewoods must not be made with delicate mechanism. I was afraid, forinstance, that the two steel guides might be easily injured, and eitherbroken away, or so bent that the wheels would jam. No; the guides wouldhave to be dispensed with, and the wheels set under the back of the saw. Altogether, my machine was far from complete. .. . 

The Captain went over to Falkenberg and said:

"I want you to drive the ladies tomorrow; they're going some way, andPetter's not well enough, it seems. Do you think you could?"

"Surely, " said Falkenberg; "and welcome. "

"Frøkenen's going back to the vicarage, " said the Captain, as he turned togo. "You'll have to be out by six o'clock. "

Falkenberg was in high spirits at this mark of confidence, and jestinglyhinted that I envied him the same. Truth to tell, I did not envy him therein the least. I was perhaps a little hurt to find my comrade so preferredbefore myself, but I would most certainly stay here by myself in the quietof the woods than sit on a box and drive in the cold. 

Falkenberg was thoroughly pleased with himself. 

"You're looking simply green with envy now, " he said. "You'd better takesomething for it. Try a little castor-oil, now, do. "

He was busy all the forenoon getting ready for the journey, washing downthe carriage, greasing the wheels, and cleaning the harness after. Ihelped him with the work. 

"I don't believe you can drive a pair at all, really, " I said, just toannoy him. "But I'll give you a bit of a lesson, if you like, before youstart. "

"You've got it badly, " he answered. "It's a pity to see a man looking likethat, when a dose of castor-oil would put him right. "

It was like that all the time--jesting and merriment from one to theother. 

That evening the Captain came out to me. 

"I didn't want to send you down with the ladies, " he said, "because ofyour work. But now Frøken Elisabeth says she wants you to drive, and notthe other man. "

"Me?"

"Yes. Because she knows you. "

"Why, as for that, 'twould have been safe enough as it was. "

"Do you mind going at all?"

"No. "

"Good! Then that's settled. "

This thought came to my mind at once: "Aha, it's me the ladies fancy, after all, because I'm an inventor and proprietor of a patent saw, and notbad looking when I'm properly got up--not bad looking by any means. "

But the Captain explained things to Falkenberg in an altogether differentway, that upset my vanity completely: Frøken Elisabeth wanted me to godown to the vicarage once more, so that her father might have another tryat getting me to take work there. She'd promised him to do so. 

I thought and thought over this explanation. 

"But if you get taken on at the vicarage, then it's all off with ourrailway work, " said Falkenberg. 

"I shan't, " said I. 

XXIII

I started early in the morning with the two ladies in a closed carriage. It was more than a trifle cold at first, and my woollen rug came in veryhandy; I used it alternately to put over my knees and wrap round myshoulders. 

We drove the way I had walked up with Falkenberg, and I recognized placeafter place as we passed. There and there he had tuned the pianos; therewe had heard the grey goose passing. .. . The sun came up, and it grewwarmer; the hours went by; then, coming to cross-roads, the ladies knockedat the window and said it was dinner-time. 

I could see by the sun it was too early for the ladies' dinner-time, though well enough for me, seeing I took my dinner with Falkenberg atnoon. So I drove on. 

"Can't you stop?" they cried. 

"I thought . .. You don't generally have dinner till three. .. . "

"But we're hungry. "

I turned off aside from the road, took out the horses, and fed and wateredthem. Had these strange beings set their dinner-time by mine?"_Værsaagod_!"

But I felt I could not well sit down to eat with them, so I remainedstanding by the horses. 

"Well?" said Fruen. 

"Thank you kindly, " said I, and waited to be served. They helped me, bothof them, as if they could never give me enough. I drew the corks of thebeer bottles, and was given a liberal share here as well; it was a picnicby the roadside--a little wayfaring adventure in my life. And Fruen Idared look at least, for fear she should be hurt. 

And they talked and jested with each other, and now and again with me, outof their kindliness, that I might feel at ease. Said Frøken Elisabeth:

"Oh, I think it's just lovely to have meals out of doors. Don't you?"

And here she said _De_, instead of _Du_, as she had said before. 

"It's not so new to him, you know, " said Fruen; "he has his dinner out inthe woods every day. "

Eh, but that voice of hers, and her eyes, and the womanly, tender look ofthe hand that held the glass towards me. .. . I might have said something inturn--have told them this or that of strange things from out in the wideworld, for their amusement; I could have set those ladies right when theychattered on, all ignorant of the way of riding camels or of harvest inthe vineyards. .. . 

I made haste to finish my meal, and moved away. I took the buckets andwent down for more water for the horses, though there was no need. I satdown by the stream and stayed there. 

After a little while Fruen called:

"You must come and stand by the horses; we are going off to see if we canfind some wild hops or something nice. "

But when I came up they decided that the wild hops were over, and therewere no rowan berries left now, nor any richly coloured leaves. 

"There's nothing in the woods now, " said Frøkenen. And she spoke to medirectly once again: "Well, there's no churchyard here for you to roamabout in. "

"No. "

"You must miss it, I should think. " And then she went on to explain toFruen that I was a curious person who wandered about in graveyards bynight and held meetings with the dead. And it was there I invented mymachines and things. 

By way of saying something, I asked about young Erik. He had been thrownby a runaway horse and badly hurt. .. . 

"He's better now, " said Frøkenen shortly. --Are you ready to go on again, Lovise?"

"Yes, indeed. Can we start?"

"Whenever you please, " I answered. 

And we drove on again. 

The hours pass, the sun draws lower down the sky, and it is cooler--achill in the air; then later wind and wet, half rain, half snow. We passedthe annexe church, a couple of wayside stores, and farm after farm. 

Then came a knocking on the window of the carriage. 

"Wasn't it here you went riding one night on borrowed horses?" saidFrøkenen laughingly. "Oh, we know all about it, never fear!"

And both the ladies were highly amused. 

I answered on a sudden thought:

"And yet your father would have me to take service with him--or wasn't itso?"

"Yes. "

"While I think of it, Frøken, how did your father know I was working forCaptain Falkenberg? You were surprised yourself to find me there. "

She thought quickly, and glanced at Fruen and said:

"I wrote home and told them. "

Fruen cast down her eyes. 

Now it seemed to me that the young lady was inventing. But she put inexcellent answers, and tied my tongue. It sounded all so natural; shewrites an ordinary letter to her people at home, and puts in somethinglike this: "And who do you think is here? The man who did thosewater-pipes for us; he's felling timber now for Captain Falkenberg. .. . "

But when we reached the vicarage, the new hand was engaged already, andthere at work--had been there three weeks past. He came out to take thehorses. 

After that, I thought and thought again--why had they chosen me to drivethem down? Perhaps it was meant as a little treat for me, as againstFalkenberg's being asked into the parlour to sing. But surely--didn't theyunderstand, these people, that I was a man who had nearly finished a newmachine, and would soon have no need of any such trifles!

I went about sharp and sullen and ill-pleased with myself, had my meal inthe kitchen, where Oline gave me her blessing for the water-pipes, andwent out to tend my horses. I took my rug and went over to the barn in thedark. .. . 

I woke to find some one touching me. 

"You mustn't lie here, you know; it's simply freezing, " said Præstefruen. "Come with me, and I'll show you. .. . "

We talked of that a little; I was not inclined to move, and at last shesat down herself instead. A flame she was--nay, a daughter of Nature. Within her the music of a rapturous dance was playing yet. 

XXIV

Next morning I was more content with things. I had cooled down and turnedsensible--I was resigned. If only I had seen before what was best for me, I might have taken service here at the vicarage, and been the first of allequals. Ay, and settle down and taken root in a quiet countryish life. 

Fru Falkenberg stood out in the courtyard. Her bright figure stood like apillar, stood there free and erect in the open courtyard, and her head wasbare. 

I greeted her Godmorgen. 

"_Godmorgen_!" she answered again, and came striding towards me. Thenvery quietly she asked: "I wanted to see how they put you up last night, only I couldn't get away. That is, of course, I got away, but . .. Youweren't in the barn, were you?"

The last words came to me as if in a dream, and I did not answer. 

"Well, why don't you answer?"

"Yes . .. In the barn? Yes. "

"Were you? And was it quite all right?"

"Yes. "

"Oh, well, then . .. Yes--yes. We shall be going back sometime to-day. "

She turned and walked away, her face all in one great flush. .. . 

 * * * * *

Harald came and asked me to make a kite. 

"A kite?" I answered all confusedly. "Ay, I'll make you a kite, a hugeone, that'll go right up to the clouds. That I will. "

We worked at it for a couple of hours, Harald and I. He was good andquick, and so innocent in his eagerness; I, for my part, was thinking ofanything but kites. We made a tail several metres long, and busiedourselves with paste and lashing and binding; twice Frøken Elisabeth cameout to look on. She may have been every bit as sweet and bright as before, but I cared nothing for what she was, and gave no thought, to her. 

Then came the order to harness ready to start. I should have obeyed theorder at once, for we had a long drive before us, but, instead, I sentHarald in to ask if we might wait just half an hour more. And we worked ontill the kite was finished. Next day, when the paste was dry, Harald couldsend up his kite and watch it rise, and feel unknown emotion within him, as I did now. 

Ready to start. 

Fruen comes out; all the family are there to see her off. The priest andhis wife both know me again, return my greeting, and say a few words--butI heard nothing said of my taking service with them now. The priest knewme again--yes; and his blue-eyed wife looked at me with that sidelongglance of hers as she knew me again, for all she had known me the nightbefore as well. 

Frøken Elisabeth brings out some food for the journey, and wraps herfriend up well. 

"Sure you'll be warm enough, now?" she asks for the last time. 

"Quite sure, thanks; it's more than warm enough with all these. _Farvel, Farvel_. "

"See you drive as nicely as you did yesterday, " says Frøken, with a nod tome as well. 

And we drove off. 

The day was raw and chilly, and I saw at once that Fruen was not warmenough with her rug. 

We drive on for hour after hour; the horses know they are on the way home, and trot without asking. My bare hands stiffen about the reins. As weneared a cottage a little way from the road, Fruen knocked on the carriagewindow to say it was dinner-time. She gets out, and her face was pale withthe cold. 

"We'll go up there and have dinner, " she says. "Come up as soon as you'reready, and bring the basket. "

And she walked up the hill. 

It must be because of the cold she chose to eat in a stranger's house, Ithought to myself; she could hardly be afraid of me. .. . I tied up thehorses and gave them their fodder. It looked like rain, so I put theoilskins over them, patted them, and went up to the cottage with thebasket. 

There is only an old woman at home. "Værsaagod!" she says, and "Come in. "And she goes on tending her coffee-pot. Fruen unpacks the basket, andsays, without looking at me:

"I suppose I am to help you again to-day?"

"Thank you, if you will. "

We ate in silence, I sitting on a little bench by the door, with my plateon the seat beside me, Fruen at the table, looking out of the window allthe time, and hardly eating anything at all. Now and again she exchanges aword with the old woman, or glances at my plate to see if it is empty. Thelittle place is cramped enough, with but two steps from the window towhere I sit; so we are all sitting together, after all. 

When the coffee is ready, I have no room for my cup on the end of thebench, but sit holding it in my hand. Then Fruen turns full-face towardsme calmly, and says with down-cast eyes:

"There is room here. "

I can hear my own heart beating and I murmur something:

"Thanks; it's quite all right. I'd rather. .. . "

No doubt but that she is uneasy; she is afraid lest I should saysomething. She sits once more looking away, but I can see she is breathingheavily. Ah, she need have no fear; I would not trouble her with so muchas a word. 

Now I had to take the empty plate and cup and set them back on the table, but I feared to startle her in my approach, for she was still sitting withaverted head. I made a little noise with the things to draw her attention, set them down, and thanked her. 

She tried to put on a housewifely tone:

"Won't you have some more? I'm sure you can't have. .. . "

"No, thank you very much. .. . Shall I pack up the things now? But I doubtif I can. "

I happened to glance at my hands; they had swelled up terribly in the warmroom, and were all shapeless and heavy now. I could hardly pack up thingswith hands like that. She guessed my thought, looked first at my hands, then out across the room, and said, with a little smile:

"Have you no gloves?"

"No; I never wear them. "

I went back to my place, waited till she should have packed up the thingsso I could carry the basket down. Suddenly she turned her head towards me, still without looking up, and asked again:

"Where do you come from?"

"From Nordland. "

Pause. 

I ventured to ask in my turn if Fruen had ever been there. 

"Yes; when I was a child. "

Then she looked at her watch, as if to check me from any more questions, and at the same time to hint it was getting late. 

I rose at once and went out to the horses. 

It was already growing dusk; the sky was darker, and a loose, wet sleetwas beginning to fall. I took my rug down covertly from the box, and hidit under the front seat inside the carriage; when that was done, I wateredthe horses and harnessed up. A little after, Fruen came down the hill. Iwent up for the basket, and met her on the way. 

"Where are you going?"

"To fetch the basket. "

"You needn't trouble, thanks; there's nothing to take back. "

We went down to the carriage; she got in, and I made to help her to rightswith the rug she had. Then I pulled out my own from under the front seat, taking care to keep the border out of sight lest she should recognize it. 

"Oh, what a blessing!" cried Fruen. "Why, where was it?"

"Under the seat here. "

"Well. .. . Of course, I might have borrowed some more rugs from thevicarage, but the poor souls would never have got them back again. .. . Thanks; I can manage . .. No, thank you; I can manage by myself. You candrive on now. "

I closed the carriage door and climbed to my seat. 

"Now, if she knocks at the window again, it's that rug, " I thought tomyself. "Well, I won't stop. .. . "

Hour after hour passed; it was pitch dark now, raining and snowing harderthan ever, and the road growing worse all the time. Now and again I wouldjump down from the box and run along beside the horses to keep warm; thewater was pouring from my clothes. 

We were nearing home now. 

I was hoping there would not be too much light when we drove up, so thatshe recognized the rug. Unfortunately, there were lights in all thewindows, waiting her arrival. 

In desperation I checked the horses a little before we got to the steps, and got down to open the carriage door. 

"But why . .. What on earth have you pulled up here for?"

"I only thought if perhaps Fruen wouldn't mind getting out here. It's allmud on ahead . .. The wheels. .. . "

She must have thought I was trying to entice her into something, Heavenknows!. .. 

"Drive on, man, do!" she said. 

The horses moved on, and the carriage stopped just where the light was atits full. 

Emma came out to receive her mistress. Fruen handed her the rugs all in abundle, as she had rolled them up before getting out of the carriage. 

"Thanks, " she said to me, glancing round as she went in. "Heavens, howdreadfully wet you are!"

XXV

A curious piece of news awaited me: Falkenberg had taken service with theCaptain as a farm-hand. 

This upset the plan we had agreed on, and left me alone once more. I couldnot understand a word of it all. Anyhow, I could think it overtomorrow. .. . By two in the morning I was still lying awake, shivering andthinking. All those hours I could not get warm; then at last it turnedhot, and I lay there in full fever. .. . How frightened she had beenyesterday--dared not sit down to eat with me by the roadside, and neveropened her eyes to me once through all the journey. .. . 

Coming to my senses for a moment, it occurs to me I might wake Falkenbergwith my tossing about, and perhaps say things in my delirium. That wouldnever do. I clench my teeth and jump up, get into my clothes again, scramble down the stairs, and set out over the fields at a run. After alittle my clothes begin to warm me; I make towards the woods, towards thespot where we had been working; sweat and rain pour down my face. If onlyI can find the saw and work the fever out of my body--'tis an old andtried cure of mine, that. The saw is nowhere to be seen, but I come uponthe ax I had left there Saturday evening, and set to work with that. It isalmost too dark to see at all, but I feel at the cut now and then with myhands, and bring down several trees. The sweat pours off me now. 

Then, feeling exhausted enough, I hide the ax in its old place; it isgetting light now, and I set off at a run for home. 

"Where have you been?" asks Falkenberg. 

Now, I do not want him to know about my having taken cold the day before, and perhaps go making talk of it in the kitchen; I simply mutter somethingabout not knowing quite where I have been. 

"You've been up to see Rønnaug, I bet, " he said. 

I answered: yes, I had been with Rønnaug, since he'd guessed it. 

"'Twas none so hard to guess, " he said. "Anyhow, you won't see me runningafter any of them now. "

"Going to have Emma, then?"

"Why, it looks that way. It's a pity you can't get taken on here, too. Then you might get one of the others, perhaps. "

And he went on talking of how I might perhaps have got my pick of theother girls, but the Captain had no use for me. I wasn't even to go outtomorrow to the wood. .. . The words sound far away, reaching me across asea of sleep that is rolling towards me. 

Next morning the fever is gone; I am still a little weak, but make readyto go out to the wood all the same. 

"You won't need to put on your woodcutting things again, " says Falkenberg. "I told you that before. "

True! Nevertheless, I put on those things, seeing the others are wet. Falkenberg is a little awkward with me now, because of breaking our plan;by way of excuse, he says he thought I was taking work at the vicarage. 

"So you're not coming up to the hills, then?" I asked. 

"H'm! No, I don't think so--no. And you know yourself, I'm sick oftramping around. I'll not get a better chance than this. "

I make as if it was no great matter to me, and take up a sudden interestin Petter; worst of all for him, poor fellow, to be turned out and nowhereto go. 

"Nowhere to go?" echoes Falkenberg. "When he's lain here the three weekshe's allowed to stay sick by law, he'll go back home again. His father's afarmer. "

Then Falkenberg declares it's like losing part of himself to have me go. If it wasn't for Emma, he'd break his word to the Captain after all. 

"Here, " he says, "I'll give you these. "

"What's that?"

"It's the certificates. I shan't want them now, but they may be the savingof you at a pinch. If you ever wanted to tune a piano, say. "

And he hands me the papers and the key. 

But, seeing I haven't his ear for music, the things are no use to me; andI tell him so. I could better handle a grindstone than a piano. 

Whereat Falkenberg burst out laughing, relieved to find me ready with ajest to the last. .. . 

Falkenberg goes out. I have time to laze a little, and lie down alldressed on the bed, resting and thinking. Well, our work was at an end; weshould have had to go anyhow. I could not reckon on staying here for alleternity. The only thing outside all calculation was that Falkenbergshould stay. If only it had been me they'd offered his work, I'd haveworked enough for two! Now, was there any chance of buying him off, Iwondered? To tell the truth, I fancied I had noticed something before; asif the Captain were not altogether pleased to have this labourer about theplace bearing his own name. Well, perhaps I had been wrong. 

I thought and thought. After all, I had been a good workman, as far as Iknew, and I had never stolen a moment of the Captain's time for work on myown invention. .. . 

I fell asleep again, and wakened at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Before I had time to get properly to my feet, there was the Captainhimself in the doorway. 

"Don't get up, " he said kindly, and turned as if to go again. "Still, seeing you're awake, we might settle up. What do you say?"

I said it was as he pleased, and many thanks. 

"I ought to tell you, though, both your friend and I thought you weregoing to take service at the vicarage, and so. .. . And now the weather'sbroken up, there's no doing more among the timber--and, besides, we've gotdown all there was to come. Well, now; I've settled with the other man. Idon't know if you'd. .. . "

I said I would be quite content with the same. 

"H'm! Your friend and I agreed you ought to have more per day. "

Falkenberg had said no word of this to me; it sounded like the Captain'sown idea. 

"I agreed with him we should share alike, " said I. 

"But you were sort of foreman; of course, you ought to have fifty øre perday extra. "

I saw my hesitation displeased him, and let him reckon it out as hepleased. When he gave me the money, I said it was more than I had reckonedwith. The Captain answered:

"Very pleased to hear it. And I've written a few lines here that might beuseful, saying you've worked well the time you were here. "

He handed me the paper. 

A just and kindly man, the Captain. He said nothing now about the idea oflaying on water to the house next spring; I took it he'd his reasons forthat, and did not like to trouble him. 

Then he asked:

"So you're going off now to work on the railway?"

I said I was not quite sure as to that. 

"Well, well. .. Anyhow, thanks for the time you've been with us. "

He moved towards the door. And I, miserable weakling that I was, could nothold myself in check, but asked:

"You won't be having any work for me later on, perhaps, in the spring?"

"I don't know; we shall see. I . .. Well, it all depends. If you shouldhappen to be anywhere near, why. .. . What about that machine of yours?"

I ventured to ask if I might leave it on the place. 

"Certainly, " said the Captain. 

When he had gone I sat down on the bed. Well, it was all over now. Ay, soit was--and Lord have mercy on us all! Nine o'clock; she is up--she isthere in the house I can see from this very window. Well, let me get awayand have done with it. 

I get out my sack and stow away my things, put on my wet jacket over myblouse, and am ready to start. But I sit down again. 

Emma comes in: "_Værsaagod_; there's something ready for you in thekitchen. "

To my horror she had my rug over one arm. 

"And Fruen told me to ask if this wasn't your rug. "

"Mine? No; I've got mine here with my things. "

Emma goes off again with the rug. 

Well, how could I say it was mine? Devil take the rug!. .. Should I go downto the kitchen or not? I might be able to say good-bye and thanks at thesame time--nothing strange in that. 

Emma came in again with the rug and laid it down neatly folded on a stool. 

"If you don't hurry up, the coffee'll be cold, " she says. 

"What did you put that rug there for?"

"Fruen told me to. "

"Oh, well, perhaps it's Falkenberg's, " I muttered. 

Emma asks:

"Are you going away now for good?"

"Yes, seeing you won't have anything to do with me. "

"You!" says Emma, with a toss of her head. 

I went down with Emma to the kitchen; sitting at table, I saw the Captaingoing out to the woods. Good he was gone--now, perhaps, Fruen might comeout. 

I finished my meal and got up. Should I go off now, and leave it at that?Of course; what else? I took leave of the maids, with a jesting word toeach in turn. 

"I'd have liked to say good-bye to Fruen, too, but. .. . "

"Fruen's indoors. I'll. .. . "

Emma goes in, and comes back a moment later. 

"Fruen's lying down with a headache. She sent her very good wishes. "

"Come again!" said all the girls as I set off. 

I walked away out of the place, with my sack under my arm. Then suddenly Iremembered the ax; Falkenberg might not find it where I'd put it. I wentback, knocked at the kitchen door, and left a message for him where itwas. 

Going down the road, I turned once or twice and looked back towards thewindows of the house. Then all was out of sight. 

XXVI

I circled round all that day, keeping near to Øvrebø; looked in at one ortwo farms to ask for work, and wandered on again like an outcast, aimlessly. It was a chill, unkindly day, and I had need of all my walkingto keep warm. 

Towards evening I made over to my old working place among the Captain'stimber. I heard no sound of the ax; Falkenberg had gone home. I found thetrees I had felled the night before, and laughed outright at the ghastlylooking stumps I had left. Falkenberg would surely have seen the havoc, and wondered who could have done it. Possibly he might have set it down towitchcraft, and fled home accordingly before it got dark. Falkenberg!. .. Hahaha!

But it was no healthy merriment, I doubt--a thing born of the fever andthe weakness that followed it. And I soon turned sorrowful once more. Here, on this spot, she had stood one day with that girl friend of hers;they had come out and talked to us in the woods. .. . 

When it was dark enough I started down towards the house. Perhaps I mightsleep in the loft again to-night; then to-morrow, when her headache wasgone, she might come out. I went down near enough to see the lights of thehouse, then I turned back. No, perhaps it was too early yet. 

Then for a time--I should reckon about two hours--I wandered round and satdown a bit, wandered again and sat down a bit; then I moved up towards thehouse again. Now I could perfectly well go up in the loft and lie downthere. As for Falkenberg--miserable worm!--let him dare to say a word! NowI know what I will do. I will hide my sack in the woods before I go up, soas to look as if I had only come back for some little thing I hadforgotten. 

And I go back to the woods. 

No sooner have I hidden the sack than I realize I am not concerned at allwith Falkenberg and sleeping in the loft. I am a fool and a madman, forthe thing I want is not shelter for the night, but a sight of just onecreature there before I leave the place. And I say to myself: "My goodsir, was it not you that set out to live a quiet life among healthy folk, to win back your peace of mind?"

I pull out my sack from its hiding-place, fling it over my shoulder, andmove towards the house for the third time, keeping well away from theservants' quarters, and coming round on the south side of the mainbuilding. There is a light in the parlour. 

And now, although it is dark, I let down the sack from over my shoulder, not to look like a beggar, and thrust it under my arm as if it were aparcel. So I steal up cautiously towards the house. When I have got nearenough, I stop, stand there upright and strong before the windows, takeoff my cap and stand there still. There is no one to be seen within, not ashadow. The dining-room is all dark; they have finished their eveningmeal. It must be late, I tell myself. 

Suddenly the lamp in the parlour goes out, and the whole house seems deadand deserted. I wait a little, then a solitary light shines out upstairs. That must be her room. The light burns for half an hour, perhaps, and thengoes out again. She had gone to rest. Good-night!

Good-night for ever!

And, of course, I shall not come back to this place in the spring. Aridiculous idea!

 * * * * *

When I got down on to the high road, I shouldered my sack once more andset out on my travels. .. . 

In the morning I go on again, having slept in a barn where it was terriblycold, having nothing to wrap round me; moreover, I had to start out againjust at the coldest hour, about daybreak, lest I should be found there. 

I walk on and on. The woods change from pine to birch and back again. Coming upon a patch of fine, straight-stemmed juniper, I cut myself astaff, and sit down at the edge of the wood to trim it. Here and thereamong the trees a yellow leaf or so still hangs, but the birches are fullof catkins set with pearly drops. Now and again half, a dozen small birdsswoop down on one of these birches, to peck at the catkins, and then lookabout for a stone or a rough tree trunk to rub the gum from their beaks. Each is jealous of the rest; they watch and chase and drive one anotheraway, though there are millions of catkins for them to take all they will. And the one that is chased never does anything but take to flight. If alittle bird comes bearing down towards a bigger one, the bigger one willmove away; even a full-grown thrush offers no resistance to a sparrow, butsimply takes itself off. I fancy it must be the speed of the attack thatdoes it. 

The cold and discomfort of the morning gradually disappear; it amuses meto watch the various things I meet with on my way, and think a little, idly enough, of every one. The birds were most diverting; also, it wascheering to reflect that I had my pocket full of money. 

Falkenberg had chanced to mention that morning where Petter's home was, and I now made for that. There would hardly be work for me on so small aplace; but now that I was rich, it was not work I sought for first of all. Petter would be coming home soon, no doubt, and perhaps have some news totell. 

I managed so as to reach the farm in the evening. I said I brought news oftheir son, that he was much better now, and would soon be home again. Andcould they put me up for the night?

XXVII

I have been staying here a couple of days; Petter has come home, but hadnothing to tell. 

"Is all well at Øvrebø?"

"Ay, there's nothing wrong that I know of. "

"Did you see them all before you left? The Captain, Fruen?"

"Yes. "

"Nobody ill?"

"No. Why, who should there be?"

"Well, Falkenberg said something about he'd hurt his hand. But I supposeit's all right now, then. "

There was little comfort in this home, though they seemed to be quite welloff. Petter's father was deputy to the Storting, and had taken to sittingreading the papers of an evening. Eh, reading and reading--the whole housesuffered under it, and the daughters were bored to death. When Petter camehome the entire family set to work reckoning out whether he had gotten hisfull pay, and if he had lain sick at Øvrebø for the full time allowed himby law, or "provided by statute, " as his father, the deputy, put it. Yesterday, when I happened to break a window--a little pane that cost nextto nothing--there was no end of whispering about it, and unfriendlyglances at me from all sides; so today I went up to the store and bought anew pane, and fixed it in properly with putty. Then said the deputy: "Youneedn't have taken all that trouble over a pane of glass. "

To tell the truth, it was not only for that I had been up to the store; Ialso bought a couple of bottles of wine, to show I did not care so muchfor the price of a pane of glass or so. Also, I bought a sewing-machine, to give the girls when I went away. We could drink the wine this evening;tomorrow would be Sunday, and we should all have time to lie abed. But onMonday morning I would start off again. 

Things turned out otherwise, however. The two girls had been up in theloft, sniffing at my sack; both the wine and the sewing-machine had putfancies into their heads; they imagined all sorts of things, and beganthrowing out hints. Wait a bit, thought I to myself; my time will come!

In the evening I sit with the family in the parlour, talking. We have justfinished supper, and the master of the house had put on his spectacles toread the papers. Then some one coughs outside. "There's some one comingin, " I say. The girls exchange glances and go out. A little after theyopen the door and show in two young men. "Come in and sit down, " says thewife. 

It struck me just then that these two peasant lads had been invited on thestrength of my wine, and that they were sweethearts with the girls. Smartyoung creatures--eighteen, nineteen years old, and already up to anything. Well, if they reckoned on that wine now, they'd be mistaken! Not adrop. .. . 

There was some talking of the weather; how it was no better than could belooked for that time of year, but a pity the wet had stopped theploughing. There was no sort of life in this talk, and one of the girlsturned to me and said I was very quiet this evening. How could it be?

"Maybe because I'm going away, " I answered. "I've a good long way to gobetween now and Monday morning. "

"Then perhaps we ought to have a parting glass tonight?"

There was some giggling at this, as a well-deserved thrust at me forkeeping back the wine that miserly fashion. But I did not know thesegirls, and cared nothing for them, otherwise I had acted differently. 

"What do you mean?" I asked. I've bought three bottles of wine that I'veto take with me to a certain place. "

"And you're going to carry it all that way?" asked the girl, amid muchlaughter. "As if there were never a store on the road. "

"Frøkenen forgets that it's Sunday tomorrow, and the stores on the roadwill be shut, " said I. 

The laugh died away, but I could see the company was no more kindlydisposed towards me now for speaking straight out. I turned to the wife, and asked coldly how much I owed her for the time I had stayed. 

But surely there was no hurry--wouldn't it do tomorrow?

I was in a hurry--thank you. I had been there two days--what did thatcome to?

She thought over it quite a while; at last she went out, and got herhusband to go with her and work it out together. 

Seeing they stayed so long away, I went up to the loft, packed my sack allready, and carried it down into the passage. I proposed to be even moreoffended, and start off now--that very night. It would be a good way oftaking leave, as things were. 

When I came into the room again, Petter said:

"You don't mean to say you're starting out tonight?"

"Yes, I do. "

"You've no call to heed the girls' nonsense, anyway. "

"_Herregud_, let the old fellow go if he wants to, " said his sister. 

At last the deputy and his wife came in again, stiffly and stubbornlysilent. 

Well! And how much did I owe them?

H'm! They would leave it to me. 

They were all alike--a mean and crafty lot; I felt myself stifling, andpicking out the first note that came to hand I flung it at the woman. 

Was that enough?

H'm! A tidy bit, for sure, but still. .. . And some might say 'twas enough, but. .. . 

How much was it I had given her?

A five-Kroner note. 

Well, perhaps it was barely enough; I felt in my pocket for some more. 

"No, mother, it was a ten-Kroner, " said Petter. "And that's too much;you'll have to give him something back. "

The old woman opens her hand, looks at the note, and turns so verysurprised all at once. 

"Why, so it is, ten Kroner, yes. .. . I didn't properly look. Why, then, 'tis right enough, and many thanks. .. . "

Her husband, in embarrassment, starts talking to the two lads of what he'dbeen reading in the paper; nasty accident; hand crushed in athreshing-machine. The girls pretended not to notice me, but sat like twocats all the time, with necks drawn in and eyes as thin as knife blades. Nothing to stay for here--good-bye to them all. 

The old woman comes out in the passage and tries making up to me. 

"If only you'd lend us just one of those bottles now, " she says, "'twouldbe a real kindness, that it would. With the two lads sitting there andall. "

"_Farvel_, " said I shortly, and would hear no more. 

I had my sack over my shoulder, and the sewing-machine in one hand; it wasa heavy load, and the muddy road made things no easier. But for all that Iwalked with a light heart. It was a miserable business altogether, and Imight as well admit I had acted a trifle meanly. Meanly? Not a bit! Iformed myself into a little committee, and pointed out that those infernalgirls had planned to entertain their sweethearts with my wine. Well andgood; but was not my ill-will towards that idea male selfishness on mypart? If two strange girls had been invited, instead of two young men, should I not have uncorked the wine without a murmur? Certainly! And thenas to their calling me an old fellow; after all, it was perfectly right. Old indeed I must be, since I took offence at being set aside in favour ofstray plough-boys. .. . 

But my sense of injury cooled down in the course of that hard walking. Thecommittee meeting was adjourned, and I toiled along hour after hour withmy ridiculous burden--three bottles of wine and a sewing-machine. It wasmild and slightly foggy; I could not see the lights of a farm till quiteclose up, and then mostly the dogs would come dashing out on me and hinderme from stealing into a barn. Later and later it grew; I was tired anddiscouraged, and plagued myself too with anxiety about the future. Had Inot already wasted a heap of money on the most useless trash? I must sellthat sewing-machine again now, and get some of it back. 

At long last I came to a place where there was no dog. There was still alight in the window, and, without more ado, I walked up and asked shelterfor the night. 

XXVIII

A young girl sat at a table sewing; there was no one else in the room. When I asked for shelter, she answered brightly and trustingly that shewould see, and went into a little room at the side. I called after her asshe went that I would be glad only to sit here by the stove till daylight. 

A little after the girl came in again with her mother, who was stillbuttoning her clothes about her. _Godkvæld!_ Shelter for the night?Well, well, there wasn't that room in the place they could make meproperly comfortable, but I'd be welcome to the bedroom, such as it was. 

And where would they sleep themselves?

Why, it was near day now, and the girl'd be sitting up anyhow for a bitwith her sewing. 

What was she sewing to sit up for all night? A new dress?

No, only the skirt. She was to wear it to church in the morning, butwouldn't hear of her mother helping. 

I brought up my sewing-machine, and said jestingly that a skirt more orless was a mere trifle for a thing like this. Wait, and I'd show them. 

Was I a tailor, then?

No. But I sold sewing-machines. 

I took out the printed directions and studied them to see how it worked. The girl listened attentively; she was a mere child; her thin fingers wereall blue with the dye from the stuff. There was something so poor-lookingabout those blue fingers; I brought out some wine and poured out for allof us. Then we go on sewing again--I with the printed paper, and the girlworking the machine. She is delighted to see how easily it goes, and hereyes are all aglow. 

How old was she?

Sixteen. Confirmed last year. 

And what was her name?

Olga. 

Her mother stands watching us, and would dearly like to try the machineherself, but every time she comes near, Olga says: "Be careful, mother, you'll despise it. " And when the spool needs filling, and her mother takesthe shuttle in her hand a moment, the child is once more afraid it may be"despised. " [Footnote: Foragte, literally "despise. " The word is evidentlyto be understood as used in error by the girl herself, in place of someequivalent of "spoil (destroy), " the author's purpose being to convey animpression of something touchingly "poor, " as with the dye-stained fingersearlier and her awkward gait and figure later mentioned. Precisely similarcharacteristics are used to the same end in _Pan_, and elsewhere. ]

The old woman puts on the coffee-pot, and tends the fire; the room is soonwarm and cosy. The lonely folk are as trusting and kindly as could be. Olga laughs when I make a little jest about the machine. I noted thatneither of them asked how much the thing cost, though I had told them itwas for sale. They looked on it as hopelessly beyond their reach. But theycould still take a delight in seeing it work. 

I hinted that Olga really ought to have a machine like that, seeing she'dgot the way of it so neatly all at once. 

Her mother answered it would have to wait till she'd been out in servicefor a bit. 

Was she going out in service?

Why, yes, she hoped so, anyway. Both her other daughters were in service, and doing well--thank God. Olga would be meeting them at church in themorning. 

There was a little cracked mirror hanging on one of the walls, on theother a few cheap prints had been tacked up--pictures of soldiers onhorseback and royalties with a great deal of finery. One of these picturesis old and frayed. It is a portrait of the Empress Eugenie, and evidentlynot a recent purchase. I asked where it had come from. 

The good woman did not know. Must be something her husband had bought inhis time. 

"Did he buy it here?"

More likely 'twould have been at Hersæt, where he had been in service as ayoung man. Might be thirty years gone now. 

I have a little plan in my head already, and say:

"That picture is worth a deal of money. "

The woman thinks I am making game of her, so I make a close inspection ofthe picture, and declare emphatically that it is no cheap print--no. 

But the woman is quite stupid, and simply says: well, did I think so, now?The thing had hung there ever since the house was built. It was Olga's, bythe way, she had called it hers from the time she was a little one. 

I put on a knowing, mysterious air, and ask for further details of thecase--where Hersæt might be. 

Hersæt was in the neighbouring parish, some eight miles away. The Lensmandlived there. .. . 

The coffee is ready, and Olga and I call a halt. There are only thefastenings to be done now. I ask to see the blouse she is to wear with theskirt, and it appears that this is not a real blouse at all, but a knittedkerchief. But she has a left-off jacket that one of her sisters gave her, and that will go outside and hide all the rest. 

Olga is growing so fast, I am told, that there's no sense in buying ablouse for her this twelvemonth to come. 

Olga sits sewing on hooks and eyes, and that is soon done. Then she turnsso sleepy, it's a sight to see; wherefore I put on an air of authority andorder her to bed. Her mother feels constrained to sit up and keep mecompany, though I tell her myself to go back to bed again. 

"You ought to be properly thankful, I'm sure, " says the mother, "to thestrange man for all the way he's helped you. "

And Olga comes up to me and gives her hand to thank me, and I turn herround and shuffle her across to the bedroom door. 

"You'd better go too, " I say to her mother. "I won't sit talking any more, for I'm tired myself. "

And, seeing I settle down by the stove with my sack under my head, sheshakes her head with a smile and goes off too. 

XXIX

I am happy and comfortable here; it is morning; the sun coming in throughthe window, and both Olga and her mother with their hair so smooth andplastered down, a wonder to see. 

After breakfast, which I share with the two of them, getting quantities ofcoffee with it, Olga gets herself up in her new skirt and her knittedkerchief and the jacket. Eh, that wonderful jacket; lasting at the edgeall round, and two rows of buttons of the same, and the neck and sleevestrimmed with braid. But little Olga could not fill it out. Nothing nearit! The child is all odd corners and angles, like a young calf. 

"Couldn't we just take it in a bit at the sides?" I ask. "There's plentyof time. "

But mother and daughter exchange glances, plainly saying, 'tis Sunday, andno using needle or knife that day. I understand them well enough, for Iwould have thought exactly the same myself in my childhood. So I try tofind a way out by a little free-thinking: 'tis another matter when it's amachine that does the work; no more than when an innocent cart comesrumbling down the road, as it may any Sunday. 

But no; this is beyond them. And anyhow, the jacket must give her room togrow; in a couple of years it would fit her nicely. 

I thought about for something I could slip into Olga's hand as she went;but I've nothing, so I gave her a silver Krone. And straightway she givesher hand in thanks, and shows the coin to her mother, and whispers shewill give it to her sister at church. Her eyes are simply glowing with joyat the thought. And her mother, hardly less moved herself, answers yes, perhaps she ought. .. . 

Olga goes off to church in her long jacket; goes shambling down the hillwith her feet turning in and out any odd way. A sweet and heartening thingto see. .. . 

Hersæt now; was that a big place?

Yes, a fine big place. 

I sit for a while blinking sleepy eyes and making excursions in etymology. Hersæt might mean _Herresæte_. [Footnote: Manor. ] Or possibly some_herse_ [Footnote: Local chieftain in ancient times. ] might haveheld sway there. And the _herse's_ daughter was the proudest maidenfor far around, and the Jarl himself comes to ask her hand. And the yearafter she bears him a son, who becomes king. .. . 

In a word, I would go to Hersæt. Seeing it was all the same where I went, I would go there. Possibly I might get work at the Lensmand's, or therewas always the chance of something turning up; at any rate, I should seenew people. And having thus decided upon Hersæt, I felt I had a purposebefore me. 

The good woman gives me leave to lie down on her bed, for I am drowsy andstupid for lack of sleep. A fine blue spider clambers slowly up the wall, and I lie watching it till I fall asleep. 

After a couple of hours I wake suddenly, feeling rested and fresh. Thewoman was cooking the dinner. I pack up my sack, pay her for my stay, andend up by saying I'd like to make an exchange; my sewing-machine forOlga's picture there. 

The woman incredulous as ever. 

Never mind, say I; if she was content, why, so was I. The picture was ofvalue; I knew what I was doing. 

I took down the picture from the wall, blew the dust from it, and rolledit up carefully; the wall showed lighter in a square patch where it hadbeen. Then I took my leave. 

The woman followed me out: wouldn't I wait now, till Olga came back, soshe could thank me? Oh, now if I only would!

I couldn't. Hadn't time. Tell her from me, if there was anything shecouldn't make out, to look in the directions. .. . 

The woman stood looking after me as I went. I swaggered down the road, whistling with satisfaction at what I had done. Only the sack to carrynow; I was rested, the sun was shining, and the road had dried up alittle. I fell to singing with satisfaction at what I had done. 

Neurasthenia. .. . 

I reached Hersæt the following day. At first I felt like passing by, itlooked so big and fine a place; but after I had talked a bit with one ofthe farm-hands, I decided to try the Lensmand after all. I had worked forrich people before--let me see, there was Captain Falkenberg of Øvrebø. .. . 

The Lensmand was a little, broad-shouldered man, with a long white beardand dark eyebrows. He talked gruffly, but had kindly eyes; afterwards, Ifound he was a merry soul, who could laugh and jest heartily enough attimes. Now and again, too, he would show a touch of pride in his position, and his wealth, and like to have it recognized. 

"No, I've no work for you. Where do you come from?"

I named some places I had lately passed. 

"No money, I suppose, and go about begging?"

No, I did not beg; I had money enough. 

"Well, you'll have to go on farther. I've nothing for you to do here; theploughing's done. Can you cut staves for a fence?

"Yes. "

"H'm. Well, I don't use wooden fences any more. I've put up wire. Dobricklayer's work?"

"Yes. "

"That's a pity. I've had bricklayers at work here for weeks; you mighthave got a job. But it's all done now. "

He stood poking his stick in the ground. 

"What made you come to me?"

"Every one said go to the Lensmand if I wanted work. "

"Oh, did they? Well, I've always got a crowd here working at something orother--those bricklayers, now. Can you put up a fence that's proof againstfowls?--For that's more than any soul on earth ever could, haha!--

"Worked for Captain Falkenberg, you said, at Øvrebø?"

"Yes. "

"What were you doing there?"

"Felling timber. "

"I don't know him--he lives a long way off. But I've heard of him. Anypapers from him?"

I showed him what the Captain had written. 

"Come along with me, " said the Lensmand abruptly. He led me round thehouse and into the kitchen. 

"Give this man a thorough good meal--he's come a long way, and. .. . "

I sat down in the big, well-lighted kitchen to the best meal I had had fora long time. I had just finished when the Lensmand came out again. 

"Look here, you. .. . " he began. 

I got up at once and stood straight as an arrow--a piece of politenesswhich I fancy was not lost on him. 

"No, no, finish your meal, go on. Finished? Sure? Well, I've beenthinking. .. . Come along with me. "

He took me out to the woodshed. 

"You might do a bit of work getting in firewood; what do you say to that?I've two men on the place, but one of them I shall want for summoners'work, so you'll have to go woodcutting with the other. You can see there'splenty of wood here as it is, but it'll take no harm lying here, can'thave too much of that sort of thing. You said you had money; let me see. "

I showed him the notes I had. 

"Good. I'm an official, you see, and have to know my folk. Though I don'tsuppose you've anything on your conscience, seeing you come to theLensmand, haha! Well, as I said, you can give yourself a rest today, andstart cutting wood tomorrow. "

I set to work getting ready for the next day, looked to my clothes, filedthe saw, and ground my ax. I had no gloves, but it was hardly weather forgloves as yet, and there was nothing else I was short of. 

The Lensmand came out to me several times, and talked in a casual way; itamused him, perhaps, to talk to a strange wanderer. "Here, Margrethe!" hecalled to his wife, as she went across the courtyard; "here's the new man;I'm going to send him out cutting wood. "

XXX

We had no special orders, but set to work as we thought best, fellingdry-topped trees, and in the evening the Lensmand said it was rightenough. But he would show us himself the next day. 

I soon realized that the work here would not last till Christmas. With theweather we were having, and the ground as it was, frost at night and nosnow, we felled a deal each day, and nothing to hinder the work; theLensmand himself though we were devilish smart at felling trees, haha! Theold man was easy to work with; he often came out to us in the woods andchatted and made jokes, and as I never joked in return, he took me, nodoubt, for a dull dog, but a steady fellow. He began sending me on errandsnow, with letters to and from the post. 

There were no children on the place, no young folk at all save the maidsand one of the farm-hands, so the evenings fell rather long. By way ofpassing the time, I got hold of some tin and acids and re-tinned some oldpots and kettles in the kitchen. But that was soon done. And then oneevening I came to write the following letter:

"_If only I were where you are, I would work for two_. "

Next day I had to go to the post for the Lensmand; I took my letter withme and posted it. I was very uneasy. Moreover, the letter looked clumsy asI sent it, for I had got the paper from the Lensmand, and had to paste awhole strip of stamps along the envelope to cover where his name wasprinted on. I wondered what she would say when she got it. There was noname, nor any place given in the letter. 

And so we work in the woods, the other man and I, talk of our littleaffairs, working with heart and soul, and getting on well together. Thedays passed; already, worse luck, I could see the end of our work ahead, but I had a little hope the Lensmand might find something else for me todo when the woodcutting was finished. Something would surely turn up. Ihad no wish to set out wandering anew before Christmas. 

Then one day I go to the post again, and there is a letter for me. Icannot understand that it is for me, and I stand turning and twisting itconfusedly; but the man knows me now; he reads from the envelope again andsays yes, it is my name right enough, and care of the Lensmand. 

Suddenly a thought strikes me, and I grasp the letter. Yes, it is for me;I forgot . .. Yes, of course. .. . 

And I hurry out into the road, with something ringing in my ears all thetime, and open the letter, and read:

"_Skriv ikke til mig_--" [Footnote: "Do not write (skrive) to me. "]

No name, no place, but so clear and lovely. The first word was underlined. 

I do not know how I got home. I remember I sat on a stone by the roadsideand read the letter and put it in my pocket, and walked on till I came toanother stone and did the same again. _Skriv ikke_. But--did thatmean I might come and perhaps speak with her? That little, dainty piece ofpaper, and the swift, delicate characters. Her hands had held it, her eyeshad looked on it, her breath had touched it. And then at the end a dash. Which might have a world of meaning. 

I came home, handed in the Lensmand's post, and went out into the wood. Iwas dreaming all the time. My comrade, no doubt, must have found me anincomprehensible man, seeing me read a letter again and again, and put itback with my money. 

How splendid of her to have found me! She must have held the envelope upto the light, no doubt, and read the Lensmand's name under the stamps;then laid her beautiful head on one side and half closed her eyes andthought for a moment: he is working for the Lensmand at Hersæt now. .. . 

That evening, when we were back home, the Lensmand came out and talked tous of this and that, and asked:

"Didn't you say you'd been working for Captain Falkenberg at Øvrebø?"

"Yes. "

"I see he's invented a machine. "

"A machine?"

"A patent saw for timber work. It's in the papers. "

I started at this. Surely he hadn't invented my patent saw?

"There must be some mistake, " I said. "It wasn't the Captain who inventedit. "

"Oh, wasn't it?"

"No it wasn't. But the saw was left with him. "

And I told the Lensmand all about it. He went in to fetch the paper, andwe both read what it said: "New Invention. .. . Our Correspondent on thespot. .. . Of great importance to owners of timber lands. .. . Principle ofthe mechanism is as follows:. .. "

"You don't mean to say it's your invention?"

"Yes, it is. "

"And the Captain is trying to steal it? Why, this'll be a pretty case, amighty pretty case. Leave it to me. Did any one see you working on thething?"

"Yes, all his people on the place did. "

"Lord save me if it's not the stiffest bit of business I've heard for along time. Walk off with another man's invention! And the money, too . .. Why, it might bring you in a million!"

I was obliged to confess I could not understand the Captain. 

"Don't you? Haha, but I do! I've not been Lensmand all this time farnothing. No; I've had my suspicions that he wasn't so rich as hepretended. Well, I'll send him a bit of a letter from me, just a line orso--what do you say to that? Hahaha! You leave it to me. "

But at this I began to feel uneasy. The Lensmand was too violent all atonce; it might well be that the Captain was not to blame in the matter atall, and that the newspaper man had made the mistake himself. I begged theLensmand to let me write myself. 

"And agree to divide the proceeds with that rascal? Never! You leave thewhole thing in my hands. And, anyhow, if you were to write yourself, youcouldn't set it out properly the way I can. "

But I worked on him until at last he agreed that I should write the firstletter, and then he should take it up after. I got some of the Lensmand'spaper again. 

I got no writing done that evening; it had been an exciting day, and mymind was all in a turmoil still. I thought and reckoned it out; forFruen's sake I would not write directly to the Captain, and risk causingher unpleasantness as well; no, I would send a line to my comrade, LarsFalkenberg, to keep an eye on the machine. 

That night I had another visit from the corpse--that miserable old womanin her night-shift, that would not leave me in peace on account of herthumbnail. I had had a long spell of emotion the day before, so this nightshe took care to come. Frozen with horror, I saw her come gliding in, stopin the middle of the room, and stretch out her hand. Over against theother wall lay my fellow-woodcutter in his bed, and it was a strangerelief to me to hear that he too lay groaning and moving restlessly; atany rate there were two of us to share the danger. I shook my head, to sayI had buried the nail in a peaceful spot, and could do no more. But thecorpse stood there still. I begged her pardon; but then, suddenly, I wasseized with a feeling of annoyance; I grew angry, and told her straightout I'd have no more of her nonsense. I'd borrowed that nail of hers at apinch, but I'd done all I could do months ago, and buried it again. .. . Atthat she came gliding sideways over to my pillow, trying to get behind me. I flung myself up in bed and gave a shriek. 

"What is it?" asked the lad from the other bed. 

I rub my eyes and answer I'd been dreaming, that was all. 

"Who was it came in just now?" asks the boy. 

"I don't know. Was there any one in here?"

"I saw some one going. .. "

XXXI

After a couple of days, I set myself down calmly and loftily to write toFalkenberg. I had a bit of a saw thing I'd left there at Øvrebø, I wrote;it might be a useful thing for owners of timber lands some day, and Iproposed to come along and fetch it away shortly. Please keep an eye on itand see it doesn't get damaged. 

Yes, I wrote in that gentle style. That was the most dignified way. Andsince Falkenberg, of course, would mention it in the kitchen, and perhapsshow the letter round, it had to be delicacy itself. But it was not alldelicacy and nothing else; I fixed a definite date, to make it serious: Iwill come for the machine on Monday, 11th December. 

I thought to myself: there, that's clear and sound; if the machine's notthere that Monday, why, then, something will happen. 

I took the letter to the post myself, and stuck a strip of stamps acrossthe envelope as before. .. . 

My beautiful ecstasy was still on me. I had received the loveliest letterin the world; here it was in my breast pocket; it was to me. _Skrivikke_. No, indeed, but I could come. And then a dash at the end. 

There wasn't anything wrong, by any chance, about that underlining theword: as, for instance, meaning to emphasize the whole thing as an order?Ladies were always so fond of underlining all sorts of words, and puttingin dashes here, there, and everywhere. But not she; no, not she!

A few days more, and the work at the Lensmand's would be at an end; itfitted in very well, everything worked out nicely; on the 11th I was to beat Øvrebø. And that perhaps not a minute too soon. If the Captain reallyhad any idea of his own about my machine, it would be necessary to act atonce. Was a stranger to come stealing my hard-earned million? Hadn't Itoiled for it? I almost began to regret the gentleness of my letter toFalkenberg; I might have made it a good deal sharper; now, perhaps, hewould imagine I was too soft to stand up for myself. Why, he might eventake it into his head to bear witness against me, and say I hadn'tinvented the machine at all! Hoho, Master Falkenberg, just try it on! Inthe first place, 'twill cost you your eternal salvation; and if that's notenough, I'll have you up for perjury before my friend and patron, theLensmand. And you know what that'll mean. 

"Of course you must go, " said the Lensmand when I spoke to him about it. "And just come back here to me with your machine. You must look after yourinterests, of course; it may be a question of something considerable. "

The following day's post brought a piece of news that changed thesituation in a moment; there was a letter from Captain Falkenberg himselfin the paper, saying it was due to a misunderstanding that the new timbersaw had been stated as being of his invention. The apparatus had beendesigned by a man who had worked on his estate some time back. As to itsvalue, he would not express any opinion. --Captain Falkenberg. 

The Lensmand and I looked at each other. 

"Well, what do you say now?" he asked. 

"That the Captain, at any rate, is innocent. "

"Ho! D'you know what I think?"

Pause. The Lensmand playing Lensmand from top to toe, unravelling schemesand plots. 

"He is not innocent, " said he. 

"Really?"

"Ah, I've seen that sort of thing before. Drawing in his horns, that'sall. Your letter put him on his guard. Haha!"

At this I had to confess to the Lensmand that I had not written to theCaptain at all but had merely sent a bit of a note to one of the hands atØvrebø; and even that letter could not have reached there yet, seeing itwas only posted the night before. 

This left the Lensmand dumb, and he gave up unravelling things. On theother hand, he seemed from now onward to be greatly in doubt as to whetherthe whole thing had any value at all. 

"Quite likely the machine's no good at all, " he said. But then he addedkindly: "I mean, it may need touching up a bit, and improving. You've seenyourself how they're always altering things like warships andflying-machines. Are you still determined to go?"

No more was said about my coming back here and bringing the machine withme. But the Lensmand wrote me a very nice recommendation. He would gladlyhave kept me on longer, it said, but the work was interrupted by privateaffairs of my own elsewhere. .. . 

In the morning, when I was ready to start, a little girl stood in thecourtyard waiting for me to come out. It was Olga. Was there ever such achild? She must have been afoot since midnight to get here so early. Andthere she stood in her blue skirt and her jacket. 

"That you, Olga? Where are you going?"

She had come to see me. 

How did she know I was here?

She had asked about me and found out where I was. And please was it trueshe was to keep the sewing-machine? But of course it couldn't. .. . 

Yes, the machine was hers all right; hadn't I taken her picture inexchange? Did it work all right?

Yes, it worked all right. 

We did not talk much together; I wanted to get her away before theLensmand came out and began asking questions. 

"Well, run along home now, child; you've a long way to go. "

Olga gives me her hand--it is swallowed up completely in mine, and shelets it lie there as long as I will. Then she thanks me, and shamblesgaily off again. And her toes turning in and out all odd ways. 

XXXII

I am nearly at my goal. 

Sunday evening I lay in a watchman's hut not far from Øvrebø, so as to beon the place early Monday morning. By nine o'clock every one would be up, then surely I must be lucky enough to meet the one I sought. 

I had grown dreadfully nervous, and kept imagining ugly things. I hadwritten a nice letter to Falkenberg, using no sharp words, but the Captainmight after all have been offended at my fixing the date like that; givinghim so and so much time. .. . If only I had never written at all!

Coming up towards the house I stoop more and more, and make myself small, though indeed I had done no wrong. I turn off from the road up, and goround so as to reach the outbuildings first--and there I come uponFalkenberg. He is washing down the carriage. We gave each other greeting, and were the same good comrades as before. 

Was he going out with the carriage?

No, just come back the night before. Been to the railway station. 

Who had gone away, then?

Fruen. 

Fruen?

Fruen, yes. 

Pause. 

Really? And where was Fruen gone to?

Gone to stay in town for a bit. 

Pause. 

"Stranger man's been here writing in the papers about that machine ofyours, " says Falkenberg. 

"Is the Captain gone away too?"

"No, Captain's at home. You should have seen his face when your lettercame. "

I got Falkenberg to come up to the old loft. I had still two bottles ofwine in my sack, and I took them out and we started on them together; eh, those bottles that I had carried backward and forward, mile after mile, and had to be so careful with, they served me well just now. Save for themFalkenberg would never have said so much. 

"What was that about the Captain and my letter? Did he see it?"

"Well, it began like this, " said Falkenberg. "Fruen was in the kitchenwhen I came in with the post. 'What letter's that with all those stampson?' she says. I opened it, and said it was from you, to say you werecoming on the 11th. "

"And what did she say?"

"She didn't say any more. Yes, she asked once again, 'Coming on the 11th, is he?' And I said yes, he was. "

"And then, a couple of days after, you got orders to drive her to thestation?"

"Why, yes, it must have been about a couple of days. Well, then, Ithought, if Fruen knows about the letter, then Captain surely knows too. D'you know what he said when I brought it in?"

I made no answer to this, but thought and thought. There must be somethingbehind all this. Was she running away from me? Madman! the Captain's Ladyat Øvrebø would not run away from one of her labourers. But the wholething seemed so strange. I had hoped all along she would give me leave tospeak with her, since I was forbidden to write. 

Falkenberg went on, a little awkwardly:

"Well, I showed the Captain your letter, though you didn't say I was to. Was there any harm in that?"

"It doesn't matter. What did he say?"

"'Yes, look after the machine, do, ' he said, and made a face. 'In case anyone comes to steal it, ' he said. "

"Then the Captain's angry with me now?"

"Nay, I shouldn't think so. I've heard no more about it since that day. "

It mattered little after all about the Captain. When Falkenberg had takena deal of wine, I asked him if he knew where Fruen was staying in town. No, but Emma might, perhaps. We get hold of Emma, treat her to wine, talka lot of nonsense, and work gradually round to the point; at last askingin a delicate way. No, Emma didn't know the address. But Fruen had gone tobuy things for Christmas, and she was going with Frøken Elisabeth from thevicarage, so they'd know the address there. What did I want it for, by theway?

Well, it was only about a filigree brooch I had got hold of, and wanted toask if she'd care to buy it. 

"Let's look. "

Luckily I was able to show her the brooch; it was a beautiful piece of oldwork; I had bought it of one of the maids at Hersæt. 

"Fruen wouldn't have it, " said Emma. "I wouldn't have it myself. "

"Not if you got me into the bargain, Emma, what?" And I forced myself tojest again. 

Emma goes off. I try drawing out Falkenberg again. Falkenberg was sharpenough at times to understand people. 

Did he still sing for Fruen?

Lord, no; that was all over. Falkenberg wished he hadn't taken servicehere at all; 'twas nothing but trouble and misery about the place. 

Trouble and misery? Weren't they friends, then, the Captain and his Lady?

Oh yes, they were friends. In the same old way. Last Saturday she had beencrying all day. 

"Funny thing it should be like that, " say I, "when they're so upright andconsiderate towards each other. " And I watch to see what Falkenberg saysto that. 

"Eh, but they're ever weary, " says Falkenberg in his Valdres dialect. "Andshe's losing her looks too. Only in the time you've been gone, she's gotall pale and thin. "

I sat up in the loft for a couple of hours, keeping an eye on the mainbuilding from my window, but the Captain did not appear. Why didn't he goout? It was hopeless to wait any longer; I should have to go withoutmaking my excuses to the Captain. I could have found good grounds enough;I might have put the blame on to the first article in the paper, and saidit had rather turned my head for the moment--and there was some truth inthat. Well, all I had to do now was to tie up the machine in a bundle, cover it up as far as possible with my sack, and start off on mywanderings again. 

Emma stole some food for me before I went. 

It was another long journey this time; first to the vicarage--though thatwas but a little out of the way--and then on to the railway station. Alittle snow was falling, which made it rather heavy walking; and what wasmore, I could not take it easy now, but must get on as fast as I could. The ladies were only staying in town for their Christmas shopping, andthey had a good start already. 

On the following afternoon I came to the vicarage. I had reckoned out itwould be best to speak with Fruen. 

"I'm on my way into town, " I told her. "And I've this machine thing withme; if I might leave the heaviest of the woodwork here meanwhile?"

"Are you going into town?" says Fruen. "But you'll stay here tilltomorrow, surely?"

"No, thanks all the same. I've got to be in town tomorrow. "

Fruen thinks for a bit and then says:

"Elisabeth's in town. You might take a parcel in for her--something she'sforgotten. "

That gives me the address! I thought to myself. 

"But I've got to get it ready first. "

"Then Frøken Elisabeth might be gone again before I got there?"

"Oh no, she's with Fru Falkenberg, and they're staying in town for theweek. "

This was grand news, joyous news. Now I had both the address and the time. 

Fruen stands watching me sideways, and says:

"Well, then, you'll stay the night, won't you? You see, it's somethingI've got to get ready first. .. . "

I was given a room in the main building, because it was too cold to sleepin the barn. And when all the household had gone to rest that night, andeverything was quiet, came Fruen to my room with the parcel, and said:

"Excuse my coming so late. But I thought you might be going earlyto-morrow morning before I was up. "

XXXIII

So here I am once more in the crush and noise of a city, with itsnewspapers and people. I have been away from all this for many months now, and find it not unpleasant. I spend a morning taking it all in; get holdof some other clothes, and set off to find Frøken Elisabeth at heraddress. She was staying with some relatives. 

And now--should I be lucky enough to meet the other one? I am restless asa boy. My hands are vulgarly unused to gloves, and I pull them off; thengoing up the step I notice that my hands do not go at all well with theclothes I am wearing, and I put on my gloves again. Then I ring the bell. 

"Frøken Elisabeth? Yes, would you wait a moment?"

Frøken Elisabeth comes out. "_Goddag_. You wished to speak to. .. . Oh, is it you?"

I had brought a parcel from her mother. _Værsaagod_. 

She tears open the parcel and looks inside. "Oh, fancy Mama thinking ofthat. The opera-glasses! We've been to the theatre already. .. . I didn'trecognize you at first. "

"Really! It's not so very long since. .. . "

"No, but. .. . Tell me, isn't there any one else you'd like to inquireabout? Haha!"

"Yes, " said I. 

"Well, she's not here. I'm only staying here with my relations. No, she'sat the Victoria. "

"Well, the parcel was for you, " said I, trying to master mydisappointment. 

"Wait a minute. I was just going out again; we can go together. "

Frøken Elisabeth puts on some over-things, calls out through a door to sayshe won't be very long, and goes out with me. We take a cab and drive to aquiet café. Frøken Elisabeth says yes, she loves going to cafés. Butthere's nothing very amusing about this one. 

Would she rather go somewhere else?

"Yes. To the Grand. "

I hesitated; it might be hardly safe. I had been away for a long time now, and if we met any one I knew I might have to talk to them. But Frøkeneninsisted on Grand. She had had but a few days' practice in the capital, and had already gained a deal of self-assurance. But I liked her so muchbefore. 

We drove off again to Grand. It was getting towards evening. Frøkenenpicks out a seat right in the brightest spot, beaming all over herself atthe fun of it. I ordered some wine. 

"What fine clothes you're wearing now, " she says, with a laugh. 

"I couldn't very well come in here in a workman's blouse. "

"No, of course not. But, honestly, that blouse . .. Shall I tell you what Ithink?"

"Yes, do. "

"The blouse suited you better. "

There! Devil take these town clothes! I sat there with my head full ofother things, and did not care for this sort of talk. 

"Are you staying long in town?" I asked. 

"As long as Lovise does. We've finished our shopping. No, I'm sorry; it'sall too short. " Then she turns gay once more, and asks laughingly: "Didyou like being with us out in the country?"

"Yes. That was a pleasant time. "

"And will you come again soon? Haha!"

She seemed to be making fun of me. Trying, of course, to show she sawthrough me: that I hadn't played--my part well enough as a countrylabourer. Child that she was! I could teach many a labourer his business, and had more than one trade at my finger-ends. Though in my true calling Imanage to achieve just the next best of all I dream. .. . 

"Shall I ask Papa to put up a notice on the post next spring, to sayyou're willing to lay down water-pipes and so on?"

She closed her eyes and laughed--so heartily she laughed. 

I am torn with excitement, and her merriment pains me, though it is allgood-humoured enough. I glance round the place, trying to pull myselftogether; here and there an acquaintance nods to me, and I return it; itall seems so far away to me. I was sitting with a charming girl, and thatmade people notice us. 

"You know these people, it seems?"

"Yes, one or two of them. Have you enjoyed yourself in town?"

"Oh yes, immensely. I've two boy cousins here, and then there were theirfriends as well. "

"Poor young Erik, out in the country, " said I jestingly. 

"Oh, you with your young Erik. No, there's one here in town; his name'sBewer. But I'm not friends with him just now. "

"Oh, that won't last long. "

"Do you think so? Really, though, I'm rather serious about it. I've anidea he might be coming in here this evening. "

"You must point him out to me if he does. "

"I thought, as we drove out here, that you and I could sit here together, you know, and make him jealous. "

"Right, then, we will. "

"Yes, but. .. . No, you'd have to be a bit younger. I mean. .. . "

I forced myself to laugh. Oh, we would manage all right. Don't despise usold ones, us ancient ones, we can be quite surprisingly useful at times. "Only you'd better let me sit on the sofa beside you there, so he can'tsee I'm bald at the back. "

Eh, but it is hard to take that perilous transition to old age in anyquiet and beautiful way. There comes a forcedness, a play of jerky effortand grimaces, the fight against those younger than ourselves, and envy. 

"Frøken. .. . " I ask this of her now with all my heart. "Frøken, couldn'tyou ring up Fru Falkenberg and get her to come round here now?"

She thinks for a moment. 

"Yes, we will, " she says generously. 

We go out to the telephone, ring up the Victoria: Fruen is there. 

"Is that you, Lovise? You'd never guess who I'm with now? Won't you comealong? Oh, good! We're at the Grand. No, I can't tell you now. Yes, ofcourse it's a man--only he's a gentleman now--I won't say who it is. Areyou coming? Why, you said just now you would! Some people? Oh, well, do asyou like, of course, but I do think. .. . Yes, he's standing here. You arein a hurry. .. . "

Frøken Elisabeth rang off, and said shortly:

"She had to go and see some friends. "

We went back to our seat, and had some more wine; I tried to be cheerful, and suggested champagne. Yes, thanks. And then, as we're sitting there, Frøkenen says suddenly:

"Oh, there's Bewer! I'm so glad we're drinking champagne. "

But I have only one idea in my mind, and being now called upon to showwhat I can do, and charm this young lady to the ultimate advantage of someone else, I find myself saying one thing and thinking another. Which, ofcourse, leads to disaster. I cannot get that telephone conversation out ofmy head; she must have had an idea--have realized that it was I who waswaiting for her here. But what on earth had I done? Why had I beendismissed so suddenly from Øvrebø, and Falkenberg taken on in my place. Quite possibly the Captain and his wife were not always the best offriends, but the Captain had scented danger in my being there, and wishedto save his wife at least from such an ignominious fall. And now, here shewas, feeling ashamed that I had worked on her place, that she had used meto drive her carriage, and twice shared food with me by the way. And shewas ashamed, too, of my being no longer young. .. . 

"This will never do, " says Frøken Elisabeth. 

So I pull myself together again, and start saying all manner of foolishthings, to make her laugh. I drink a good deal and that helps; at last, she really seems to fancy I am making myself agreeable to her on her ownaccount. She looks at me curiously. 

"No, really, though, do you think I'm nice?"

"Oh, please--don't you understand?--I was speaking of Fru Falkenberg. "

"Sh!" says Frøken Elisabeth. "Of course it is Fru Falkenberg; I know thatperfectly well, but you need not say so. .. . I really think we're beginningto make an impression on him over there. Let's go on like we are doing, and look interested. "

So she hadn't imagined I was trying on my own account, after all. I wastoo old for that sort of thing, anyway. Devil take it, yes, of course. 

"But you can't get Fru Falkenberg, " she says, beginning again. "It'ssimply hopeless. "

"No, I can't get her. Nor you either. "

"Are you speaking to Fru Falkenberg now again?"

"No, it was to you this time. "

Pause. 

"Do you know I was in love with you? Yes, when I was at home. "

"This is getting quite amusing, " said I, shifting up on the sofa. "Oh, we'll manage Bewer, never fear. "

"Yes, only fancy, I used to go up to the churchyard to meet you in theevenings. But you, foolish person, you didn't see it a bit. "

"Now you're talking to Bewer, of course, " said I. 

"No, it's perfectly true. And I came over one day when you were working inthe potato fields. It wasn't your young Erik I came to see, not a bit. "

"Only think, that it should have been me, " I say, putting on a melancholyair. 

"Yes, of course you think it was strange. But really, you know, people wholive in the country must have some one to be fond of too. "

"Does Fru Falkenberg say the same?"

"Fru Falkenberg? No, she says she doesn't want to be fond of anybody, onlyplay her piano and that sort of thing. But I was speaking of myself. Doyou know what I did once? No, really, I can't tell you that. Do you wantto know?

"Yes, tell me. "

"Well, then . .. For, after all, I'm only a child compared to you, so itdoesn't matter. It was when you were sleeping in the barn; I went overthere one day and laid your rugs together properly, and made a properbed. "

"Was it you did that?" I burst out quite sincerely, forgetting to play mypart. 

"You ought to have seen me stealing in. Hahaha!"

But this young girl was--not artful enough, she changed colour at herlittle confession, and laughed forcedly to cover her confusion. 

I try to help her out, and say:

"You're really good-hearted, you know. Fru Falkenberg would never havedone a thing like that. "

"No; but then she's older. Did you think we were the same age?"

"Does Fru Falkenberg say she doesn't _want_ to be fond of anybody?"

"Yes. Oh no . .. Bother, I don't know. Fru Falkenberg's married, of course;she doesn't say anything. Now talk to me again a little. .. . Yes, and doyou remember the time we went up to the store to buy things, you know? AndI kept walking slower and slower for you to catch up. .. . "

"Yes . .. That was nice of you. And now I'll do something for you inreturn. "

I rose from my seat, and walked across to where young Bewer sat, and askedif he would not care to join us at our table. I brought him along; FrøkenElisabeth flushed hotly as he came up. Then I talked those two youngpeople well together, which done, I suddenly remembered I had somebusiness to do, and must go off at once. "I'm ever so sorry to leave justnow. Frøken Elisabeth, I'm afraid you've turned my head, bewitched mecompletely; but I realize it's hopeless to think of it. It's a marvel tome, by the way. .. . "

XXXIV

I shambled over to Raadhusgaten, and stood awhile by the cab stand, watching the entrance to the Victoria. But, of course, she had gone to seesome friends. I drifted into the hotel, and got talking to the porter. 

Yes, Fruen was in. Room No. 12, first floor. 

Then she was not out visiting friends?

No. 

Was she leaving shortly?

Fruen had not said so. 

I went out into the street again, and the cabmen flung up their aprons, inviting my patronage. I picked out a cab and got in. 

"Where to?"

"Just stay where you are. I'm hiring you by the hour. "

The cabmen walk about whispering, one suggesting this, another that: he'swatching the place; out to catch his wife meeting some commercialtraveller. 

Yes, I am watching the place. There is a light in one or two of the rooms, and suddenly it strikes me that she might stand at a window and see me. "Wait, " I say to the cabman, and go into the hotel again. 

"Whereabouts is No. 12?"

"First floor. "

"Looking out on to Raadhusgaten?"

"Yes. "

"Then it must have been my sister, " I say, inventing something in order toslip past the porter. 

I go up the stairs, and, to give myself no chance of turning back, I knockat the door the moment I have seen the number. No answer. I knock again. 

"Is it the maid?" comes a voice from within. 

I could not answer yes; my voice would have betrayed me. I tried thehandle--the door was locked. Perhaps she had been afraid I might come;possibly she had seen me outside. 

"No, it's not the maid, " I say, and I can hear how the words quiverstrangely. 

I stand listening a long while after that; I can hear someone movinginside, but the door remains closed. Then come two short rings from one ofthe rooms down to the hall. It must be she, I say to myself; she isfeeling uneasy, and has rung for the maid. I move away from her door, toavoid any awkwardness for her, and, when the maid comes, I walk past as ifgoing downstairs. Then the maid says, "Yes, the maid, " and the door isopened. 

"No, no. " says the maid; "only a gentleman going downstairs. "

I thought of taking a room at the hotel, but the idea was distasteful tome; she was not a runaway wife meeting commercial travellers. When I camedown, I remarked to the porter as I passed that Fruen seemed to be lyingdown. 

Then I went out and got into my cab again. The time passes, a whole hour;the cabman wants to know if I do not feel cold? Well, yes, a little. Was Iwaiting for some one? Yes. .. . He hands me down his rug from the box, and Itip him the price of a drink for his thoughtfulness. 

Time goes on; hour after hour. The cabmen talk unrestrainedly now, sayingopenly one to another that I'm letting the horse freeze to death. 

No, it was no good. I paid for the cab, went home, and wrote the followingletter:

"You would not let me write to you; will you not let me see you onceagain? I will ask for you at the hotel at five to-morrow afternoon. "

Should I have fixed an earlier hour? But the light in the forenoon was sowhite; if I felt moved and my mouth twitched, I should look a dreadfulsight. 

I took the letter round myself to the hotel, and went home again. 

A long night--oh, how long were those hours! Now, when I ought to sleepand stretch myself and feel refreshed, I could not. Day dawned, and I gotup. After a long ramble through the streets I came back home again, andslept. 

Hours pass. When I awake and come to my senses, I hurry anxiously to thetelephone to ask if Fruen had left. 

No, Fruen had not left. 

Thank Heaven then, it seemed she did not wish to run away from me; shemust have had my letter long since. No; I had called at an awkward hourthe evening before, that was all. 

I had something to eat, lay down, and slept again. When I woke it was pastnoon. I stumble in to the telephone again and ring up as before. 

No, Fruen had not left yet. But her things were packed. She was out justnow. 

I got ready at once, and hurried round to Raadhusgaten to stand on watch. In the course of half an hour I saw a number of people pass in and out, not the one I sought. It was five o'clock now, and I went in and spoke tothe porter. 

Fruen was gone. 

Gone?

"Was it you that rang up? She came just at that moment and took herthings. But I've a letter here. "

I took the letter, and, without opening it, asked about the train. 

"Train left at 4. 45, " says the porter, looking at his watch. "It's fivenow. "

I had thrown away half an hour keeping watch outside. 

I sit down on one of the steps, staring at the floor. 

The porter keeps on talking. He must be well aware it was not my sister. 

"I said to Fruen there was a gentleman had just rung up. But she only saidshe hadn't time, and would I give him this letter. "

"Was there another lady with her when she left?"

"No. "

I got up and went out. In the street I opened the letter and read:

"You _must_ not follow me about any more--"

Impassively I put the thing away. It had not surprised me, had made no newimpression. Thoroughly womanly, hasty words, written on impulse, withunderlining and a dash. .. . 

Then it occurred to me to go round to Frøken Elisabeth's address; therewas still a glimmer of hope. I heard the door bell ring inside the houseas I pressed, and stood listening as in a whirling desert. 

Frøken Elisabeth had left an hour before. 

Then wine, and then whisky. And then endless whisky. And altogether atwenty-one days' debauch, in the course of which a curtain falls and hidesmy earthly consciousness. In this state, it enters my head one day to sendsomething to a little cottage in the country. It is a mirror, in a gaygilt frame. And it was for a little maid, by name Olga, a creaturetouching and sweet to watch as a young calf. 

Ay, for I've not got over my neurasthenia yet. 

The timber saw is in my room. But I cannot put it together, for the bulkof the wooden parts I left behind at a vicarage in the country. It matterslittle now, my love for the thing is dulled. My neurasthenic friends, believe me, folk of our sort are useless as human beings, and we shouldnot even do for any kind of beast. 

One day I suppose I shall grow tired of this unconsciousness, and go outand live on an island once again. 

A WANDERER PLAYS ON MUTED STRINGS

INTRODUCTION

It looks to be a fine year for berries, yes; whortleberries, crowberries, and fintocks. A man can't live on berries; true enough. But it is good tohave them growing all about, and a kindly thing to see. And many a thirstyand hungry man's been glad to find them. 

I was thinking of this only yesterday evening. 

There's two or three months yet till the late autumn berries are ripe;yes, I know. But there are other joys than berries in the wilds. Springand summer they are still only in bloom, but there are harebells andladyslippers, deep, windless woods, and the scent of trees, and stillness. There is a sound as of distant waters from the heavens; never solong-drawn a sound in all eternity. And a thrush may be singing as high asever its voice can go, and then, just at its highest pitch, the notebreaks suddenly at a right angle; clear and clean as if cut with adiamond; then softly and sweetly down the scale once more. Along theshore, too, there is life; guillemot, oyster-catcher, tern are busy there;the wagtail is out in search of food, advancing in little spurts, trim andpert with its pointed beak and swift little flick of a tail; after a whileit flies up to perch on a fence and sing with the rest. But when the sunhas set, may come the cry of a loon from some hill-tarn; a melancholyhurrah. That is the last; now there is only the grasshopper left. Andthere's nothing to say of a grasshopper, you never see it; it doesn'tcount, only he's there gritting his resiny teeth, as you might say. 

I sit and think of all these things; of how summer has its joys for awanderer, so there's no sort of need to wait till autumn comes. 

And here I am writing cool words of these quiet things--for all the worldas if there were no violent and perilous happenings ahead. 'Tis a trick, and I learned it of a man in the southern hemisphere--of a Mexican calledRough. The brim of his huge hat was hung with tinkling sequins: that initself was a thing to remember. And most of all, I remember how calmly hetold the story of his first murder: "I'd a sweetheart once named Maria, "said Rough, with that patient look of his; "well, she was no more thansixteen, and I was nineteen then. She'd such little hands when you touchedthem; fingers thin and slight, you know the sort. One evening the mastercalled her in from the fields to do some sewing for him. No help for itthen; and it wasn't more than a day again before he calls her in same asbefore. Well, it went on like that a few weeks, and then stopped. Sevenmonths after Maria died, and they buried her, little hands and all. I wentto her brother Inez and said: 'At six tomorrow morning the master rides totown, and he'll be alone. ' 'I know, ' said he. 'You might lend me thatlittle rifle of yours to shoot him with. ' 'I shall be using it myself, 'said he. Then we talked for a bit about other things: the crops, and a bignew well we'd dug. And when I left, I reached down his rifle from the walland took it with me. In the timber I heard Inez at my heels, calling to meto stop. We sat down and talked a bit more this way and that; then Inezsnatched the rifle away from me and went home. Next morning I was upearly, and out at the gate ready to open it for the master; Inez was theretoo, hiding in the bushes. I told him he'd better go on ahead; we didn'twant to be two to one. 'He's pistols in his belt. ' said Inez; 'but whatabout you?' 'I know, ' said I; 'but I've a lump of lead here, and thatmakes no noise. ' I showed him the lump of lead, and he thought for a bit;then he went home. Then the master came riding up; grey and old he was, sixty at least. 'Open the gate!' he called out. But I didn't. He thought Imust be mad, no doubt, and lashed out at me with his whip, but I paid noheed. At last he had to get down himself to open the gate. Then I gave himthe first blow: it got him just by one eye and cut a hole. He said, '_Augh_!' and dropped. I said a few words to him, but he didn'tunderstand; after a few more blows he was dead. He'd a deal of money onhim; I took a little to help me on my way, then I mounted and rode off. Inez was standing in the doorway as I rode past his place. 'It's onlythree and a half days to the frontier, ' he said. "

So Rough told his story, and sat staring coolly in front of him when itwas ended. 

I have no murders to tell of, but joys and sufferings and love. And loveis no less violent and perilous than murder. 

Green in all the woods now, I thought to myself this morning as I dressed. The snow is melting on the hills, and everywhere the cattle in their shedsare eager and anxious to be out; in houses and cottages the windows areopened wide. I open my shirt and let the wind blow in upon me, and I markhow I grow starstruck and uncontrollable within; ah, for a moment it isall as years ago, when I was young, and a wilder spirit than now. And Ithink to myself: maybe there's a tract of woodland somewhere east or westof this, where an old man can find himself as well bested as a young. Iwill go and look for it. 

Rain and sun and wind by turns; I have been many days on the road already. Too cold yet to lie out in the open at night, but there is always shelterto be had at farmsteads by the way. One man thinks it strange that Ishould go tramping about like this for nothing; he takes me, no doubt, forsomebody in disguise, just trying to be original like Wergeland. [Footnote: A Norwegian poet. ]The man knows nothing of my plans, how I amon my way to a place I know, where live some people I have a fancy to seeagain. But he is a sensible fellow enough, and involuntarily I nod as ifto agree there is something in what he says. There's a theatrical touch inmost of us that makes us feel flattered at being taken for more than weare. Then up come his wife and daughter, good, ordinary souls, and carryall away with their kindly gossip; he's no beggar, they say; be paid forhis supper and all. And at last I turn crafty and cowardly and say never aword, and let the man lay more to my charge and still never a word. And wethree hearty souls outwin his reasoning sense, and he has to explain hewas only jesting all the time; surely we could see that. I stayed a nightand a day there, and greased my shoes with extra care, and mended myclothes. 

But then the man begins to suspect once more. "There'll be a handsomepresent for that girl of mine when you leave, I know, " says he. I made asif his words had no effect, and answered with a laugh: "You think so?""Yes, " says he; "and then when you're gone we'll sit thinking you musthave been somebody grand, after all. "

A detestable fellow this! I did the only thing I could: ignored hissarcasm and asked for work. I liked the place, I said, and he'd need ofhelp; I could turn my hand to anything now in the busy time. 

"You're a fool, " said he, "and the sooner you're off the place the betterI'll be pleased. "

Clearly he had taken a dislike to me, and there was none of the womenfolkat hand to take my part. I looked at the man, at a loss to understand whatwas in his mind. 

His glance was steady; it struck me suddenly that I had never seen suchwisdom in the eyes of man or woman. But he carried his ill-will too far, and made a false step. He asked: "What shall we say your name was?" "Noneed to say anything at all, " I answered. "A wandering Eilert Sundt?" hesuggested. And I entered into the jest and answered: "Yes, why not?" Butat that he fired up and snapped out sharply: "Then I'm sorry for FruSundt, that's all. " I shrugged my shoulders in return, and said: "You'rewrong there, my good man; I am not married. " And I turned to go. But withan unnatural readiness he called after me: "'Tis you that's wrong: I meantfor the mother that bore you. "

A little way down the road I turned, and saw how his wife and daughtertook him up. And I thought to myself: no, 'tis not all roses when one goesa-wandering. 

At the next place I came to I learned that he had been with the army, asquartermaster-sergeant; then he went mad over a lawsuit he lost, and wasshut up in an asylum for some time. Now in the spring his trouble brokeout again; perhaps it was my coming that had given the final touch. Butthe lightning insight in his eyes at the moment when the madness came uponhim! I think of him now and again; he was a lesson to me. 'Tis none soeasy to judge of men, who are wise or mad. And God preserve us all frombeing known for what we are!

 * * * * *

That day I passed by a house where a lad sat on the doorstep playing amouth-organ. He was no musician to speak of, but a cheerful soul he mustsurely be, to sit there playing to himself like that. I would not disturbhim, but simply raised one hand to my cap, and stood a little distanceoff. He took no notice of me, only wiped his mouth-organ and went onplaying. This went on for some time; then at last, waiting till he stoppedto wipe his instrument again, I coughed. 

"That you, Ingeborg?" he called out. I thought he must be speaking tosomeone in the house behind him, and made no answer. "You there, I mean, "he said again. 

I was confused at this. "Can't you see me?" I said. 

He did not answer, but fumbled with his hands to either side, as if tryingto get up, and I realized that he was blind, "Sit still; don't be afraidof me, " I said, and set myself down beside him. 

We fell into talk: been blind since he was fourteen, it seemed; he wouldbe eighteen now, and a big, strong fellow he was, with a thick growth ofdown on his chin. And, thank Heaven, he said, his health was good. But hiseyesight, I asked; could he remember what the world looked like? Yes, indeed; there were many pleasant things he could remember from the timewhen he could see. He was happy and content enough. He was going in toChristiania this spring, to have an operation; then perhaps he might atleast be able to see well enough to walk; ay, all would be well in time, no doubt. He was dull-witted, looked as if he ate a lot; was stout andstrong as a beast. But there was something unhealthy-looking, something ofthe idiot about him; his acceptance of his fate was too unreasonable. Tobe hopeful in that way implies a certain foolishness, I thought to myself;a man must be lacking in sense to some degree if he can go ahead feelingalways content with life, and even reckoning to get something new, somegood out of it into the bargain. 

But I was in the mood to learn something from all I chanced on in mywandering; even this poor creature on his doorstep made me the wiser byone little thing. How was it he could mistake me for a woman; the womanIngeborg he had called by name? I must have walked up too quietly. I hadforgotten the plodding cart-horse gait; my shoes were too light. I hadlived too luxuriously these years past; I must work my way back to thepeasant again. 

 * * * * *

Three more days now to the goal my curious fancy had set before me: toØvrebø, to Captain Falkenberg's. It was an opportune time to walk up therejust now and ask for work; there would be plenty to do on a big place likethat in the spring. Six years since I was there last; time had passed, andfor the last few weeks I had been letting my beard grow, so that noneshould recognize me now. 

It was in the middle of the week; I must arrange to get there on theSaturday evening. Then the Captain would let me stay over the Sunday whilehe thought about taking me on. On Monday he would come and say yes or no. 

Strangely enough, I felt no excitement at the thought of what was to come;nothing of unrest, no; calmly and comfortably I took my way by farmstead, wood, and meadow. I thought to myself how I had once, years ago, spentsome adventurous weeks at that same Øvrebø, even to being in love withFruen herself, with Fru Lovise. Ay, that I was. She had fair hair andgrey, dark eyes; like a young girl she was. Six years gone, ay, so long itis ago; would she be greatly changed? Time has had its wear on me; I amgrown dull and faded and indifferent; I look upon a woman now asliterature, no more. It has come to the end. Well, and what then?Everything comes to an end. When first I entered on this stage I had afeeling as if I had lost something; as if I had been favoured by thecaresses of a pickpocket. Then I set to and felt myself about, to see if Icould bear myself after this; if I could endure myself as I was now. Ohwell, yes, why not? Not the same as before, of course, but it all passedoff so noiselessly, but peacefully, but surely. Everything comes to anend. 

In old age one takes no real part in life, but keeps oneself on memories. We are like letters that have been delivered; we are no longer on the way, we have arrived. It is only a question whether we have whirled up joys andsorrows out of what was in us, or have made no impression at all. Thanksbe for life; it was good to live!

But Woman, she was, as the wise aforetime knew, infinitely poor in mind, but rich in irresponsibility, in vanity, in wantonness. Like a child inmany ways, but with nothing of its innocence. 

 * * * * *

I stand by the guide-post where the road turns off to Øvrebø. There is noemotion in me. The day lies broad and bright over meadow and woods; hereand there is ploughing and harrowing in the fields, but all moves slowly, hardly seems to move at all, for it is full noon and a blazing sun. I walka little way on beyond the post, dragging out the time before going up tothe house. After an hour, I go into the woods and wander about there for awhile; there are berries in flower and a scent of little green leaves. Acrowd of thrushes go chasing a crow across the sky, making a great to-do, like a clattering confusion of faulty castanets. I lie down on my back, with my sack under my head, and drop off to sleep. 

A little after I wake again, and walk over to the nearest ploughman. Iwant to find out something about the Falkenbergs, if they are still thereand all well. The man answers cautiously; he stands blinking, with hislittle, crafty eyes, and says: "All depends if Captain's at home. "

"Is he often away, then?"

"Nay, he'll be at home. "

"Has he got the field work done?"

The man smiled: "Nay, I doubt it's not finished yet. "

"Are there hands enough to the place?"

"That's more than I can say; yes, I doubt there's hands enough. And thefield work's done; leastways, the manure's all carted out. "

The man clicks to his horses and goes on ploughing; I walked on besidehim. There was not much to be got out of him; next time the horses stoppedfor a breathing space I worried out of him a few more contradictions as tothe family at Øvrebø. The Captain, it seemed was away on manoeuvres allthrough the summer, and Fruen was at home alone. Yes, they had always aheap of visitors, of course; but the Captain was away. That is to say, notbecause he wanted to; he liked best to stay at home, by all accounts, but, of course, he'd his duty as well. No, they'd no children as yet; didn'tlook as if Fruen was like to have any. What was I talking about? Theymight have children yet, of course; any amount of them for that. On again. 

We plough on to the next stop. I am anxious not to arrive at an awkwardtime, and ask the man, therefore, if he thinks there would be visitors oranything of that sort up at the house today. No, he thought not. They'dparties and visitors now and again, but. .. . Ay, and music and playing andfine goings-on as often as could be, but. .. . And well they might, for thatmatter, seeing they were fine folks, and rich and well-to-do as they were. 

He was a torment, was that ploughman. I tried to find out something aboutanother Falkenberg, who could tune pianos at a pinch. On this theploughman's information was more definite. Lars? Ay, he was here. Knowhim? Why, of course he knew Lars well enough. He'd finished with serviceat Øvrebø, but the Captain had given him a clearing of land to live on; hemarried Emma, that was maid at the house, and they'd a couple of children. Decent, hardworking folk, with feed for two cows already out of theirclearing. 

Here the furrow ended, and the man turned his team about. I thanked him, and went on my way. 

When I came to the house, I recognized all the buildings; they wantedpainting. The flagstaff I had helped to raise six years before, it stoodthere still; but there was no cord to it, and the knob at the top wasgone. 

Well, here I was, and that was four o'clock in the afternoon of the 26thday of April. 

Old folk have a memory for dates. 

I

It turned out otherwise than I had thought. Captain Falkenberg came out, heard what I had to say, and answered no on the spot. He had all the handshe wanted, and the field work was all but done. 

Good! Might I go over to the men's room and sit down and rest a while?

Certainly. 

No invitation to stay over Sunday. The Captain turned on his heel and wentindoors again. He looked as if he had only just got out of bed, for he waswearing a night-shirt tucked into his trousers, and had no waistcoat on;only a jacket flung on loosely and left unbuttoned. He was going greyabout the ears, and his beard as well. 

I sat down in the men's quarters and waited till the farmhands came in fortheir afternoon meal. There were only two of them--the foreman andanother. I got into talk with them, and it appeared the Captain had made amistake in saying the field work was all but done. Well, 'twas his ownaffair. I made no secret of the fact that I was looking for a place, and, as for being used to the work, I showed them the fine recommendation I hadgot from the Lensmand at Hersæt years ago. When the men went out again, Itook my sack and walked out with them, ready to go on my way. I peeped inat the stables and saw a surprising number of horses, looked at thecowshed, at the fowls, and the pigs. I noticed that there was dung in thepit from the year before that had not been carted out yet. 

I asked how that could be. 

"Well, what are we to do?" answered the foreman. "I looked to it from theend of the winter up till now, and nobody but myself on the place. Nowthere's two of us at least, in a sort of way, but now there's all theploughing and harrowing to be done. "

'Twas his affair. 

I bade him farewell, and went on my way. I was going to my good friend, Lars Falkenberg, but I did not tell them so. There are some new littlebuildings far up in the wood I can see, and that I take to be theclearing. 

But the man I had just left must have been inwardly stirred by the thoughtof getting an extra hand to help with the work. I saw him tramp across thecourtyard and up to the house as I went off. 

I had gone but a couple of hundred yards when he comes hurrying after meto say I am taken on after all. He had spoken to the Captain, and gotleave to take me on himself. "There'll be nothing to do now till Monday, but come in and have something to eat. "

He is a good fellow, this; goes with me up to the kitchen and tells themthere: "Here's a new man come to work on the place; see he gets somethingto eat. "

A strange cook and strange maids. I get my food and go out again. No signof master or mistress anywhere. 

But I cannot sit idle in the men's room all the evening; I walk up to thefield and talk to my two fellow-workers. Nils, the foreman, is from a farma little north of here, but, not being the eldest son, and having no farmof his own to run, he has been sensible enough to take service here atØvrebø for the time being. And, indeed, he might have done worse. TheCaptain himself was not paying more and more attention to his land, rather, perhaps, less and less, and he was away so much that the man hadto use his own judgment many a time. This last autumn, for instance, hehas turned up a big stretch of waste land that he is going to sow. Hepoints out over the ground, showing where he's ploughed and what's to lieover: "See that bit there how well it's coming on. "

It is good to hear how well this young man knows his work; I find apleasure in his sensible talk. He has been to one of the State schools, too, and learned how to keep accounts of stock, entering loads of hay inone column and the birth dates of the calves in another. His affair. Inthe old days a peasant kept such matters in his head, and the womenfolkknew to a day when each of their twenty or fifty cow was due to calve. 

But he is a smart young fellow, nevertheless, and not afraid of work, onlya little soured and spoiled of late by having more on his hands than a mancould do. It was plain to see how he brightened up now he had got a man tohelp with the work. And he settles there and then that I am to start onMonday with the harrow horse, carting out manure, the lad to take one ofthe Captain's carriage horses for the harrow; he himself would stick tothe ploughing. Ay, we would get our sowing done this year. 

 * * * * *

Sunday. 

I must be careful not to show any former knowledge of things about theplace here; as, for instance, how far the Captain's timber runs, or wherethe various out-houses and buildings are, or the well, or the roads. Itook some time getting things ready for tomorrow--greased the wheels ofthe cart, and did up the harness, and gave the horse an extra turn. In theafternoon I went for a four or five hours' ramble through the woods, passed by Lars Falkenberg's place without going in, and came right out towhere the Captain's land joined that of the neighbouring village before Iturned back. I was surprised to see the mass of timber that had been cut. 

When I got back, Nils asked: "Did you hear them singing and carrying onlast night?"

"Yes; what was it?"

"Visitors, " said he, with a laugh. 

Visitors! yes, there were always visitors at Øvrebø just now. 

There was an extremely fat but sprightly man among them; he wore hismoustache turned up at the ends, and was a captain in the same arm of theservice as the master. I saw him and the other guests come lounging out ofthe house in the course of the evening. There was a man they calledIngeniør, [Footnote: Engineer. Men are frequently addressed and referredto by the title of their occupation, with or without adding the name. ] hewas young, a little over twenty, fairly tall, brown-skinned and cleanshaven. And there was Elisabet from the vicarage. I remember Elisabet verywell, and recognized her now at once, for all she was six years older andmore mature. Little Elisabet of the old days was no longer a girl--herbreast stood out so, and gave an impression of exaggerated health. Ilearned she is married; she took Erik after all, a farmer's son she hadbeen fond of as a child. She was still friendly with Fru Falkenberg, andoften came to stay. But her husband never came with her. 

Elisabet is standing by the flagstaff, and Captain Falkenberg comes out. They talk a little, and are occupied with their own affairs. The Captainglances round every time he speaks; possibly he is not talking of trifles, but of something he must needs be careful with. 

Then comes the other Captain, the fat and jovial one; we can hear hislaugh right over in the servants' quarters. He calls out to CaptainFalkenberg to come along, but gets back only a curt answer. A few stonesteps lead down to the lilac shrubbery; the Captain goes down there now, amaid following after with wine and glasses. Last of all comes theengineer. 

Nils bursts out laughing: "Oh, that Captain! look at him!"

"What's his name?"

"They all call him Bror; [Footnote: Brother. Not so much a nickname as ageneral term of jovial familiarity. ] it was the same last year as well. Idon't know his proper name. "

"And the Engineer?"

"His name's Lassen, so I've heard. He's only been here once before in mytime. "

Then came Fru Falkenberg out on the steps; she stopped for a moment andglanced over at the two by the flagstaff. Her figure is slight and prettyas ever; but her face seems looser, as if she had been stouter once andsince grown thin. She goes down to the shrubbery after the others, and Irecognize her walk again--light and firm as of old. But little wonder iftime has taken something of her looks in all those years. 

More people come out from the house--an elderly lady wearing a shawl, andtwo gentlemen with her. 

Nils tells me it is not always there are so many guests in the house atonce; but it was the Captain's birthday two days ago, and two carriageloads of people had come dashing up; the four strange horses were in thestables now. 

Now voices are calling again for the couple by the flagstaff; the Captainthrows out an impatient "Yes!" but does not move. Now he brushes a speckof dust from Elisabet's shoulder; now, looking round carefully, he laysone hand on her arm and tells her something earnestly. 

Says Nils:

"They've always such a lot to talk about, those two. She never comes herebut they go off for long walks together. "

"And what does Fru Falkenberg say to that?"

"I've never heard she troubled about it any way. "

"And Elisabet, hasn't she any children either?"

"Ay, she's many. "

"But how can she get away so often with that big place and the children tolook after?"

"It's all right as long as Erik's mother's alive. She can get away all shewants. "

He went out as he spoke, leaving me alone. In this room I had sat onceworking out the construction of an improved timber saw. How earnest I wasabout it all! Petter, the farm-hand, lay sick in the room next door, and Iwould hurry out eagerly whenever I'd any hammering to do, and get it doneoutside. Now that patent saw's just literature to me, no more. So theyears deal with us all. 

Nils comes in again. 

"If the visitors aren't gone tomorrow, I'll take a couple of their horsesfor the ploughing, " says he, thinking only of his own affairs. 

I glanced out of the window; the couple by the flagstaff have moved awayat last. 

 * * * * *

In the evening things grew more and more lively down in the shrubbery. Themaids went backwards and forwards with trays of food and drink; the partywere having supper among the lilacs. "Bror! Bror!" cried one and another, but Bror himself was loudest of all. A chair had broken under his enormousweight, and a message comes out to the servants' quarters to find a good, solid, wooden chair that would bear him. Oh, but they were merry down inthe shrubbery! Captain Falkenberg walked up now and again in front of thehouse to show he was still steady on his legs, and was keeping a watchfuleye on things in general. "You mark my words, " said Nils, "he'll not bethe first to give over. I drove for him last year, and he was drinking allthe way, but never a sign was there to see. "

The sun went down. It was growing chilly, perhaps, in the garden; anyway, the party went indoors. But the big windows were thrown wide, and waves ofmelody from Fru Falkenberg's piano poured out. After a while it changed todance tunes; jovial Captain Bror, no doubt, was playing now. 

"Nice lot, aren't they?" said Nils. "Sit up playing and dancing all night, and stay in bed all day. I'm going to turn in. "

I stayed behind, looking out of the window, and saw my mate LarsFalkenberg come walking across the courtyard and go up into the house. Hehad been sent for to sing to the company. When he has sung for a while, Captain Bror and some of the others begin to chime in and help, making afine merry noise between them. After about an hour in comes LarsFalkenberg to the servants' quarters with a half-bottle of spirit in hispocket for his trouble. Seeing no one but me, a stranger, in the room, hegoes in to Nils in the bedroom next door, and they take a dram together;after a little they call to me to come in. I am careful not to say toomuch, hoping not to be recognized; but when Lars gets up to go home, heasks me to go part of the way with him. And then it appears that I amdiscovered already; Lars knows that I am his former mate of thewoodcutting days. 

The Captain had told him. 

Well and good, I think to myself. Then I've no need to bother about beingcareful any more. To tell the truth, I was well pleased at the way thingshad turned out; it meant that the Captain was completely indifferent as tohaving me about the place; I could do as I pleased. 

I walked all the way home with Lars, talking over old times, and of hisnew place, and of the people at Øvrebø. It seemed that the Captain was notlooked up to with the same respect as before; he was no longer thespokesman of the district, and neighbours had ceased to come and ask hishelp and advice. The last thing of any account he did was to have thecarriage drive altered down to the high road, but that was five years ago. The buildings needed painting, but he had put it off and never had itdone; the road across the estate was in disrepair, and he had felled toomuch timber by far. Drink? Oh, so folk said, no doubt, but it couldn't befairly said he drank--not that way. Devil take the gossiping fools. Hedrank a little, and now and again he would drive off somewhere and stayaway for a bit; but when he did come home again things never seemed to gowell with him, and that was the pity of it! An evil spirit seemed to havegot hold of him, said Lars. 

And Fruen?

Fruen! She went about the house as before, and played on her piano, andwas as pretty and neat as ever any one could wish. And they keep openhouse, with folk for ever coming and going; but taxes and charges on thisand that mount up, and it costs a deal to keep up the place, with all thebig buildings to be seen to. But it is a sin and a shame for the Captain, and Fruen as well, to be so dead-weary of each other, you'd never think. If they do say a word to each other, it's looking to the other side allthe time, and hardly opening their lips. They barely speak at all, exceptto other people month after month the same. And all summer the Captain'sout on manoeuvres, and never comes home to see how his wife and the placeare getting on. "No, they've no children; that's the trouble, " says Lars. 

Emma comes out and joins us. She looks well and handsome still, and I tellher so. 

"Emma?" says Lars. "Ay, well, she's none so bad. But she's for ever havingchildren, the wretch!" and, pouring out a drink from his half-bottle, heforces her to drink it off. Now Emma presses us to come in; we might justas well be sitting down indoors as standing about out here. 

"Oh, it's summer now!" says Lars, evidently none so anxious to have me in. Then, when I set off for home, he walks down again with me a bit of theway, showing me where he's dug and drained and fenced about his bit ofland. Small as it is, he has made good and sensible use of it. I find astrange sense of pleasure coming over me as I look at this cosy homesteadin the woods. There is a faint soughing of the wind in the forest behind;close up to the house are foliage trees, and the aspens rustle like silk. 

I walk back home. Night is deepening; all the birds are silent; the aircalm and warm, in a soft bluish gloom. 

 * * * * *

"Let us be young to-night!" It is a man's voice, loud and bright, frombehind the lilacs. "Let's go and dance, or do something wild. "

"Have you forgotten what you were like last year?" answers Fru Falkenberg. "You were nice and young then, and never said such things. "

"No, I never said such things. To think you should remember that! But youscolded me one evening last year too. I said how beautiful you were thatevening, and you said no, you weren't beautiful any more; and you calledme a child, and told me not to drink so much. "

"Yes, so I did, " says Fru Falkenberg, with a laugh. 

"So you did, yes. But as to your being beautiful or not, surely I ought toknow when I was sitting looking at you all the time?"

"Oh, you child!"

"And this evening you're lovelier still. "

"There's some one coming!"

Two figures rise up suddenly behind the lilacs. Fruen and the youngengineer. Seeing it is only me, they breathe more easily again, and go ontalking as if I did not exist. And mark how strange is human feeling; Ihad been wishing all along to be ignored and left in peace, yet now ithurt me to see these two making so little account of me. My hair and beardare turning grey, I thought to myself; should they not respect me at leastfor that?

"Yes, you're lovelier still tonight, " says the man again. I come upalongside them, touching my cap carelessly, and pass on. 

"I'll tell you this much: you'll gain nothing by it, " says Fruen. Andthen: "Here, you've dropped something, " she calls to me. 

Dropped something? My handkerchief lay on the path; I had dropped it onpurpose. I turned round now and picked it up, said thank you, and walkedon. 

"You're very quick to notice things of no account, " says the engineer. "Alout's red-spotted rag. .. . Come, let's go and sit in the summer-house. "

"It's shut up at night, " says Fruen. "I dare say there's somebody inthere. "

After that I heard no more. 

My bedroom is up in the loft in the servants' quarters, and the one openwindow looks out to the shrubbery. When I come up I can still hear voicesdown there among the bushes, but cannot make out what is said. I thoughtto myself: why should the summer-house be shut up at night, and whose ideacould it be? Possibly some very crafty soul, reckoning that, if the doorwere always kept locked, it would be less risky to slip inside one eveningin good company, take out the key, and stay there. 

Some way down along the way I had just come were two people walking up--Captain Bror and the old lady with the shawl. They had been sittingsomewhere among the trees, no doubt, when I passed by, and I fell towondering now if, by any chance, I could have been talking to myself as Iwalked, and been overheard. 

Suddenly I see the engineer get up from behind the bushes and walk swiftlyover to the summer-house. Finding it locked, he sets his shoulder againstthe door and breaks it open with a crash. 

"Come along, there's nobody here!" he cries. 

Fru Falkenberg gets up and says: "Madman! Whatever are you doing?"

But she goes towards him all the same. 

"Doing?" says he. "What else should I do? Love isn't glycerine--it'snitro-glycerine. "

And he takes her by the arm and leads her in. 

Well, 'tis their affair. .. . 

But the stout Captain and his lady are coming up; the pair in thesummer-house will hardly be aware of their approach, and Fru Falkenbergwould perhaps find it far from agreeable to be discovered sitting therewith a man just now. I look about for some means of warning them; here isan empty bottle; I go to the window and fling it as hard as I can overtowards the summer-house. There is a crash, bottle and tiles are broken, and the pieces go clattering down over the roof; a cry of dismay fromwithin, and Fru Falkenberg rushes out, her companion behind her stillgrasping her dress. They stop for a moment and look about them. "Bror!"cries Fru Falkenberg, and sets off at a run down the shrubbery. "No, don'tcome, " she calls back over her shoulder. "You _mustn't_, I tell you. "

But the engineer ran after her, all the same. Wonderfully young he was, and all inflexible. 

Now the stout Captain and his lady come up, and their talk is a marvel tohear. Love: there is nothing like it, so it seems. The stout cavalier mustbe sixty at the least, and the lady with him, say forty; their infatuationwas a sight to see. 

The Captain speaks:

"And up to this evening I've managed to hide it somehow, but now--well, it's more than any man can. You've bewitched me Frue, completely. "

"I didn't think you cared so much, really, " she answers gently, trying tohelp him along. 

"Well, I do, " he says. "And I can't stand it any longer, and that's thetruth. When we were up in the woods just now, I still thought I could getthrough one more night, and didn't say anything much at the time. But now;come back with me, say you will!"

She shook her head. 

"No; oh, I'd love to give you . .. Do what you. .. . "

"Ah!" he exclaims, and, throwing his arms about her, stands pressing hisround paunch against hers. There they stood, looking like tworecalcitrants that would not. Oh, that Captain!

"Let me go, " she implored him. 

He loosened his hold a trifle and pressed her to him again. Once more itlooked as if both were resisting. 

"Come back up into the wood, " he urged again and again. 

"Oh, it's impossible!" she answered. "And then it's all wet with the dew. "

But the Captain was full of passionate words--full and frothing over. 

"Oh, I used to think I didn't care much about eyes! Blue eyes--huh! Greyeyes--huh! Eyes any sort of colour--huh! But then you came with thosebrown eyes of yours. .. . "

"They are brown, yes. .. . "

"You burn me with them; you--you roast me up!"

"To tell the truth, you're not the first that's said nice things about myeyes. My husband now. .. . "

"Ah, but what about me!" cries the Captain. "I tell you, Frue, if I'd onlymet you twenty years ago, I wouldn't have answered for my reason. Come;there's no dew to speak of up in the wood. "

"We'd better go indoors, I think, " she suggests. 

"Go in? There's not a corner anywhere indoors where we can be alone. "

"Oh, we'll find somewhere!" she says. 

"Well, anyhow, we must have an end of it to-night, " says the Captaindecisively. 

And they go. 

I asked myself: was it to warn anybody I had thrown that empty bottle?

 * * * * *

At three in the morning I heard Nils go out to feed the horses. At four heknocked to rouse me out of bed. I did not grudge him the honour of beingfirst up, though I could have called him earlier myself, any hour of thatnight indeed, for I had not slept. 'Tis easy enough to go without sleep anight or two in this light, fine air; it does not make for drowsiness. 

Nils sets out for the fields, driving a new team. He has looked over thevisitors' horses, and chosen Elisabet's. Good country-breds, heavy in theleg. 

II

More visitors arrive, and the house-party goes on. We farm-hands are busymeasuring, ploughing, and sowing; some of the fields are sprouting greenalready after our work--a joy to see. 

But we've difficulties here and there, and that with Captain Falkenberghimself. "He's lost all thought and care for his own good, " says Nils. Andindeed an evil spirit must have got hold of him; he was half-drunk most ofthe time, and seemed to think of little else beyond playing the genialhost. For nearly a week past, he and his guests had played upside downwith day and night. But what with the noise and rioting after dark thebeasts in stable and shed could get no rest; the maids, too, were kept upat all hours, and, what was more, the young gentlemen would come over totheir quarters at night and sit on their beds talking, just to see themundressed. 

We working hands had no part in this, of course, but many a time we feltshamed instead of proud to work on Captain Falkenberg's estate. Nils gothold of a temperance badge and wore it in the front of his blouse. 

One day the Captain came out to me in the fields and ordered me to get outthe carriage and fetch two new visitors from the station. It was in themiddle of the afternoon; apparently he had just got up. But he put me inan awkward position here--why had he not gone to Nils? It struck me thathe was perhaps, after all, a little shy of Nils with his temperance badge. 

The Captain must have guessed my difficulty, for he smiled and said:

"Thinking what Nils might say? Well, perhaps I'd better talk to himfirst. "

But I wouldn't for worlds have sent the Captain over to Nils just then, for Nils was still ploughing with visitors' horses, and had asked me togive him warning if I saw danger ahead. I took out my handkerchief to wipemy face, and waved a little; Nils saw it, and slipped his team at once. What would he do now, I wondered? But Nils was not easily dismayed; hecame straight in with his horses, though it was in the middle of a workingspell. 

If only I could hold the Captain here a bit while he got in! Nils realizesthere is no time to be lost--he is already unfastening the harness on theway. 

Suddenly the Captain looks at me, and asks:

"Well, have you lost your tongue?"

"'Twas Nils, " I answer then. "Something gone wrong, it looks like; he'staken the horses out. "

"Well, and what then?"

"Nay, I was only thinking. .. . "

But there I stopped. Devil take it, was I to stand there playing thehypocrite? Here was my chance to put in a word for Nils; the next round hewould have to manage alone. 

"It's the spring season now, " I said, "and there's green showing alreadywhere we're done. But there's a deal more to do yet, and we. .. . "

"Well, and what then--what then?"

"There's two and a half acres here, and Nils with hard on three acres ofcorn land; perhaps Captain might give it another thought. "

At that the Captain swung on his heel and left me without a word. 

"That's my dismissal, " I thought to myself. But I walked up after him withmy cart and team, ready to do as he had said. 

I was in no fear now about Nils; he was close up to the stables by now. The Captain beckoned to him, but without avail. Then "Halt!" he cried, military fashion; but Nils was deaf. 

When we reached the stables the horses were back in their places already. The Captain was stiff and stern as ever, but I fancied he had beenthinking matters over a little on the way. 

"What have you brought the horses in for now?" he asked. 

"Plough was working loose, " answered Nils. "I brought them in just whileI'm setting it to rights again; it won't take very long. "

The Captain raps out his order:

"I want a man to drive to the station. "

Nils glances at me, and says half to himself:

"H'm! So that's it? A nice time for that sort of thing. "

"What's that you're muttering about?"

"There's two of us and a lad, " says Nils, "for the season's work thisspring. 'Tis none so much as leaves any to spare. "

But the Captain must have had some inkling as to the two brown horses Nilshad been in such a hurry to get in; he goes round patting the animals inturn, to see which of them are warm. Then he comes back to us, wiping hisfingers with his handkerchief. 

"Do you go ploughing with other people's horses, Nils?"

Pause. 

"I'll not have it here; you understand?"

"H'm! No, " says Nils submissively. Then suddenly he flares up: "We've moreneed of horses this spring than any season ever at Øvrebø: we're taking upmore ground than ever before. And here were these strange cattle standinghere day after day eating and eating, and doing never so much as the worthof the water they drank. So I took them out for a bit of a spell now andthen, just enough to keep them in trim. "

"I'll have no more of it. You hear what I say?" repeated the Captainshortly. 

Pause. 

"Didn't you say one of the Captain's plough horses was ailing yesterday?"I put in. 

Nils was quick to seize his chance. 

"Ay. So it was. Standing all a-tremble in its box. I couldn't have takenit out anyway. "

The Captain looked me coldly up and down. 

"What are you standing here for?" he asked sharply. 

"Captain said I was to drive to the station. "

"Well, then, be off and get ready. "

But Nils took him up on the instant. 

"That can't be done. "

"Bravo, Nils!" said I to myself. The lad was thoroughly in the right, andhe looked it, sturdily holding his own. And as for the horses, our own hadbeen sorely overdone with the long season's work, and the strange cattlestood there eating their heads off and spoiling for want of exercise. 

"Can't be done?" said the Captain, astounded. "What do you mean?"

"If Captain takes away the help I've got, then I've finished here, that'sall, " says Nils. 

The Captain walked to the stable door and looked out, biting his moustacheand thinking hard. Then he asked over his shoulder:

"And you can't spare the lad, either?"

"No, " said Nils; "he's the harrowing to do. "

This was our first real encounter with the Captain, and we had our way. There were some little troubles again later on, but he soon gave in. 

"I want a case fetched from the station, " he said one day. "Can the boy goin for it?"

"The boy's as ill to spare as a man for us now, " said Nils. "If he's todrive in to the station now, he won't be back till late tomorrow; that's aday and a half lost. "

"Bravo!" I said to myself again. Nils had spoken to me before about thatcase at the station; it was a new consignment of liquor; the maids hadheard about it. 

There was some more talk this way and that. The Captain frowned; he hadnever known a busy season last so long before. Nils lost his temper, andsaid at last: "If you take the boy off his field work, then I go. " Andthen he did as he and I had agreed beforehand, and asked me straight out:

"Will you go, too?"

"Yes, " said I. 

At that the Captain gave way, and said with a smile: "Conspiracy, I see. But I don't mind saying you're right in a way. And you're good fellows towork. "

But the Captain saw but little of our work, and little pleasure it gavehim. He looked out now and again, no doubt, over his fields, and saw howmuch was ploughed and sown, but that was all. But we farm-hands worked ourhardest, and all for the good of our master; that was our way. 

Ay, that was our way, no doubt. 

But maybe now and again we might have just a thought of question as tothat zeal of ours, whether it was so noble after all. Nils was a man fromthe village who was anxious to get his field work done at least as quicklyas any of his neighbours; his honour was at stake. And I followed him. Ay, even when he put on that temperance badge, it was, perhaps, as much asanything to get the Captain sober enough to see the fine work we had done. And here again I was with him. Moreover, I had perhaps a hope that Fruen, that Fru Falkenberg at least, might understand what good souls we were. Idoubt I was no better than to reckon so. 

The first time I saw Fru Falkenberg close to was one afternoon as I wasgoing out of the kitchen. She came walking across the courtyard, aslender, bareheaded figure. I raised my cap and looked at her; her facewas strangely young and innocent to see. And with perfect indifference sheanswered my "_Goddag_, " and passed on. 

It could not be all over for good between the Captain and his wife. Ibased this view upon the following grounds:

Ragnhild, the parlour-maid, was her mistress's friend and trusted spy. Shenoted things on Fruen's behalf, went last to bed, listened on the stairs, made a few swift, noiseless steps when she was outside and somebodycalled. She was a handsome girl, with very bright eyes, and fine andwarm-blooded into the bargain. One evening I came on her just by thesummer-house, where she stood sniffing at the lilacs; she started as Icame up, pointed warningly towards the summer-house, and ran off with hertongue between her teeth. 

The Captain was aware of Ragnhild's doings, and once said to his wife soall might hear--he was drunk, no doubt, and annoyed at something or other:

"That Ragnhild's an underhanded creature; I'd be glad to be rid of her. "

Fruen answered:

"It's not the first time you've wanted to get Ragnhild out of the way;Heaven knows what for! She's the best maid we've ever had. "

"For that particular purpose, I dare say, " he retorted. 

This set me thinking. Fruen was perhaps crafty enough to keep this girlspying, simply to make it seem as if she cared at all what her husbanddid. Then people could imagine that Fruen, poor thing, went about secretlylonging for him, and being constantly disappointed and wronged. And then, of course, who could blame her if she did the like in return, and went herown way? Heaven knows if that was the way of it!

One day later on the Captain changed his tactics. He had not managed tofree himself from Ragnhild's watchfulness; she was still there, to beclose at hand when he was talking to Elisabet in some corner, or makingtowards the summer-house late in the evening to sit there with some oneundisturbed. So he tried another way, and began making himself agreeableto that same Ragnhild. Oho! 'twas a woman's wit--no doubt, 'twasElisabet--had put him up to that!

We were sitting at the long dining-table in the kitchen, Nils and I andthe lad; Fruen was there, and the maids were busy with their own work. Then in comes the Captain from the house with a brush in his hand. 

"Give my coat a bit of a brush, d'you mind?" says he to Ragnhild. 

She obeyed. When she had finished, he thanked her, saying: "Thank you, mychild. "

Fruen looked a little surprised, and, a moment after, sent her maidupstairs for something. The Captain looked after her as she went, andsaid:

"Wonderfully bright eyes that girl has, to be sure. "

I glanced across at Fruen. Her eyes were blazing, her cheeks flushed, asshe moved to leave the room. But in the doorway she turned, and now herface was pale. She seemed to have formed her resolution already. Speakingover her shoulder, she said to her husband:

"I shouldn't be surprised if Ragnhild's eyes were a little too bright. "

"Eh?" says the Captain, in surprise. 

"Yes, " says Fruen, with a slight laugh, nodding over towards the tablewhere we sat. "She's getting a little too friendly with the men out here. "

Silence. 

"So perhaps she'd better go, " Fruen went on. 

It was incomparable audacity on Fruen's part, of course, to say such athing to our face, but we could not protest; we saw she was only using usto serve her need. 

When we got outside, Nils said angrily:

"I'm not sure but I'd better go back and say a word or two myself aboutthat. "

But I dissuaded him, saying it was not worth troubling about. 

A few days passed. Again the Captain found an opportunity of payingbarefaced compliments to Ragnhild: ". .. With a figure like yours, " hesaid. 

And the tone of everything about the house now--badly changed from of old. Gone down, grown poorer year by year, no doubt, drunken guests doing theirshare to help, and idleness and indifference and childlessness for therest. 

In the evening, Ragnhild came to me and told me she was given notice;Fruen had made some reference to me, and that was all. 

Once more a piece of underhand work. Fruen knew well I should not be longon the place; why not make me the scapegoat? She was determined to upsether husband's calculations, that was the matter. 

Ragnhild, by the way, took it to heart a good deal, and sobbed and dabbedher eyes. But after a while she comforted herself with the thought that, as soon as I was gone, Fruen would take back her dismissal and let herstay. I, for my part, was inwardly sure that Fruen would do nothing of thekind. 

Yes, the Captain and Elisabet might be content: the troublesomeparlour-maid was to be sent packing, surely enough. 

 * * * * *

But who was to know? I might be out in my reckoning after all. Newhappenings set me questioning anew; ay, forced me to alter my judgmentonce again. 'Tis a sorely difficult thing to judge the truth of humankind. 

I learned now, beyond doubt, that Fru Falkenberg was truly and honestlyjealous of her husband; not merely pretending to be, as so by way ofcovering her own devious ways. Far, indeed, from any pretence here. True, she did not really believe for a moment that he was interested in hermaid. But it suited her purpose to pretend she did; in her extremity, shewould use any means that came to hand. She had blushed during that scenein the kitchen; yes, indeed, but that was a sudden and natural indignationat her husband's ill-chosen words, nothing more. 

But she had no objections to her husband's imagining she was jealous ofthe girl. This was just what she wanted. Her meaning was clear enough. I'mjealous again, yes; you can see it's all the same as before with me: hereI am! Fru Falkenberg was better than I had thought. For many years now thepair had slipped farther and farther from each other through indifference, partly perhaps towards the last, in defiance; now she would take the firststep and show that she cared for him still. That was it, yes. But, in faceof the one she feared most of all, she would not show her jealousy forworlds--and that was Elisabet, this dangerous friend of hers who was somany years younger than herself. 

Yes, that was the way of it. 

And the Captain? Was he moved at all to see his wife flush at his words toher maid? Maybe a shadow of memory from the old days, a tingle of wonder, a gladness. But he said no word. Maybe he was grown prouder and moreobstinate with the years that had passed. It might well seem so from hislooks. 

Then it was there came the happenings I spoke of. 

III

Fru Falkenberg had been playing with her husband now for some little time. She affected indifference to his indifference, and consoled herself withthe casual attentions of men staying in the house. Now one and now anotherof them left, but stout Captain Bror and the lady with the shawl stayedon, and Lassen, the young engineer, stayed too. Captain Falkenberg lookedon as if to say: "Well and good, stay on by all means, my dear fellow, aslong as you please. " And it made no impression on him when his wife said"Du" to Lassen and called him Hugo. "Hugo!" she would call, standing onthe steps, looking out. And the Captain would volunteer carelessly:"Hugo's just gone down the road. "

One day I heard him answer her with a bitter smile and a wave of his handtowards the lilacs: "Little King Hugo is waiting for you in his kingdom. "I saw her start; then she laughed awkwardly to cover her confusion, andwent down in search of Lassen. 

At last she had managed to wring some expression of feeling out of him. She would try it again. 

This was on a Sunday. 

Later in the day Fruen was strangely restless; she said a few kindly wordsto me, and mentioned that both Nils and I had managed our work very well. 

"Lars has been to the post office today, " she said, "to fetch a letter forme. It's one I particularly want. Would you mind going up to his place andbringing it down for me?"

I said I would with pleasure. 

"Lars won't be home again till about eleven. So you need not start for along time yet. "

Very good. 

"And when you get back, just give the letter to Ragnhild. "

It was the first time Fru Falkenberg had spoken to me during my presentstay at Øvrebø; it was something so new, I went up afterwards to mybedroom and sat there by myself, feeling as if something had reallyhappened. I thought over one or two things a little as well. It was simplyfoolishness, I told myself to go on playing the stranger here andpretending nobody knew. And a full beard was a nuisance in the hotweather; moreover, it was grey, and made me look ever so old. So I set toand shaved it off. 

About ten o'clock I started out towards the clearing. Lars was not back. Istayed there a while with Emma, and presently he came in. I took theletter and went straight home. It was close on midnight. 

Ragnhild was nowhere to be seen, and the other maids had gone to bed. Iglanced in at the shrubbery. There sat Captain Falkenberg and Elisabet, talking together at the round stone table; they took no notice of me. There was a light in Fruen's bedroom upstairs. And suddenly it occurred tome that to-night I looked as I had done six years before, clean-shaven asthen. I took the letter out of my pocket and went in the main entrance togive it to Fruen myself. 

At the top of the stairs Ragnhild comes slipping noiselessly towards meand takes the letter. She is evidently excited. I can feel the heat of herbreath as she points along the passage. There is a sound of voices fromthe far end. 

It looked as if she had taken up her post here on guard, or had been setthere by some one to watch; however, it was no business of mine. And whenshe whispered: "Don't say a word; go down again quietly!" I obeyed, andwent to my room. 

My window was open. I could hear the couple down among the bushes: theywere drinking wine. And there was still light upstairs in Fruen's room. 

Ten minutes passed; then the light went out. 

A moment later I heard some one hurrying up the stairs in the house, andlooked down involuntarily to see if it was the Captain. But the Captainwas sitting as before. 

Now came the same steps down the stairs again, and, a little after, others. I kept watch on the main entrance. First comes Ragnhild, flying asif for her life over towards the servants' quarters; then comes FruFalkenberg with her hair down, and the letter in her hand showing white inthe gloom. After her comes the engineer. The pair of them move downtowards the high road. 

Ragnhild comes rushing in to me and flings herself on a chair, all out ofbreath and bursting with news. Such things had happened this evening, shewhispered. Shut the window! Fruen and that engineer fellow--never athought of being careful--'twas as near as ever could be but they'd havedone it. He was holding on to her when Ragnhild went in with the letter. Ugh! Up in Fruen's room, with the lamp blown out. 

"You're mad, " said I to Ragnhild. 

But the girl had both heard and seen well enough, it seemed. She was grownso used to playing the spy that she could not help spying on her mistressas well. An uncommon sort, was Ragnhild. 

I put on a lofty air at first and would have none of her tale-bearing, thank you, listening at keyholes. Fie!

But how could she help it, she replied. Her orders were to bring up theletter as soon as her mistress put out the light, and not before. ButFruen's windows looked out to the shrubbery, where the Captain was sittingwith Elisabet from the vicarage. No place for Ragnhild there. Better towait upstairs in the passage, and just take a look at the keyhole now andagain, to see if the light was out. 

This sounded a little more reasonable. 

"But only think of it, " said Ragnhild suddenly, shaking her head inadmiration. "What a fellow he must be, that engineer, to get as near asthat with Fruen. "

As near as what! Jealousy seized me; I gave up my lofty pose, andquestioned Ragnhild searchingly about it all. What did she say they weredoing? How did it all come about?

Ragnhild could not say how it began. Fruen had given her orders about aletter that was to be fetched from Lars Falkenberg's, and when it arrived, she was to wait till the light went out in Fruen's room, and then bring itup. "Very good, " said Ragnhild. "But not till I put out the light, youunderstand, " said Fruen again. And Ragnhild had set herself to wait forthe letter. But the time seemed endless, and she fell to thinking andwondering about it all; there was something strange about it. She went upinto the passage and listened. She could hear Fruen and the engineertalking easily and without restraint; stooping down to the keyhole, shesaw her mistress loosening her hair, with the engineer looking on andsaying how lovely she was. And then--ah, that engineer--he kissed her. 

"On the lips, was it?. .. "

Ragnhild saw I was greatly excited, and tried to reassure me. 

"Well, perhaps not quite. I won't be sure; but still . .. And he's not apretty mouth, anyway, to my mind. .. . I say, though, you've shaved allclean this evening. How nice! Let me see. .. . "

"But what did Fruen say to that? Did she slip away?"

"Yes, I think so; yes, of course she did--and screamed. "

"Did she, though?"

"Yes; out loud. And he said '_Sh_!' And every time she raised hervoice he said '_Sh_!' again. But Fruen said let them hear, it didn'tmatter; they were sitting down there making love in the shrubberythemselves. That's what she said, and it was the Captain and Elisabet fromthe vicarage she meant. 'There, you can see them, ' she said, and went tothe window. 'I know, I know, ' says the engineer; 'but, for Heaven's sake, don't stand there with your hair down!' and he went over and got her awayfrom the window. Then they said a whole heap of things, and every time hetried to whisper Fruen talked out loud again. 'If only you wouldn'tshout, ' he said. 'We could be ever so quiet up here. ' Then she was quietfor a bit, and just sat there smiling at him without a word. She was everso fond of him. "

"Was she?"

"Yes, indeed, I could see that much. Only fancy, a fellow like that! Heleaned over towards her, and put his hand so--there. "

"And Fruen sat still and let him?"

"Well, yes, a little. But then she went over to the window again, and cameback, and put out her tongue like that--and went straight up to him andkissed him. I can't think how she could. For his mouth's not a bit nice, really. Then he said, 'Now we're all alone, and we can hear if anybodycomes. ' 'What about Bror and his partner?' said she. 'Oh; they are outsomewhere, at the other end of the earth, ' said he. 'We're all alone;don't let me have to keep on asking you now!' And then he took hold of herand picked her up--oh, he was so strong, so strong! 'No, no; leave go!'she cried. "

"Go on!" I said breathlessly. "What next?"

"Why, it was just then you came up with the letter, and I didn't see whathappened next. And when I went back, they'd turned the key in the lock, soI could hardly see at all. But I heard Fruen saying: 'Oh, what are youdoing? No, no, we mustn't!' She must have been in his arms then. And thenat last she said: 'Wait, then; let me get down a minute. ' And he let hergo. 'Blow out the lamp, ' she said. And then it was all dark . .. Oh!. .. "

"But now I was at my wits' end what to do, " Ragnhild went on. "I stood aminute all in a flurry, and was just going to knock at the door all atonce--"

"Yes, yes; why didn't you? What on earth made you wait at all?"

"Why, if I had, then Fruen'd have known in a moment I'd been listeningoutside, " answered the girl. "No, I slipped away from the door and downthe stairs, then turned back and went up again, treading hard so Fruencould hear the way I came. The door was still fastened, but I knocked, andFruen came and opened it. But the engineer was just behind; he'd got holdof her clothes, and was simply wild after her. 'Don't go! don't go!' hekept on saying, and never taking the slightest notice of me. But then, when I turned to go, Fruen came out with me. Oh, but only think. It was asnear as could be!. .. "

 * * * * *

A long, restless night. 

At noon, when we men came home from the fields next day, the maids werewhispering something about a scene between the Captain and his wife. Ragnhild knew all about it. The Captain had noticed his wife with her hairdown the night before, and the lamp out upstairs, and laughed at her hairand said wasn't it pretty! And Fruen said nothing much at first, butwaited her chance, and then she said: "Yes, I know. I like to let my hairdown now and again, and why not? It isn't yours!" She was none so clever, poor thing, at answering back in a quarrel. 

Then Elisabet had come up and put in her word. And she was smarter--_prrr_! Fruen did manage to say: "Well, anyhow we were in the house, but you two were sitting out among the bushes!" And Elisabet turned sharpat that, and snapped out: "We didn't put out the light!" "And if we did, "said Fruen, "it made no difference; we came down directly after. "

Heavens! I thought to myself, why ever didn't she say they put the lightout _because_ they were going down?

That was the end of it for a while. But then, later on, the Captain saidsomething about Fruen being so much older than Elisabet. "You ought alwaysto wear your hair down, " he said. "On my word, it made you look quite agirl!" "Oh yes, I dare say I need it now, " answered Fruen. But seeingElisabet turn away laughing, she flared up all of a sudden and told her totake herself off. And Elisabet put her hands on her hips, and asked theCaptain to order her carriage. "Right!" says the Captain at that; "andI'll drive you myself!"

All this Ragnhild had heard for herself standing close by. 

I thought to myself they were jealous, the pair of them--she, of thissitting out in the shrubbery, and he, of her letting her hair down andputting out the light. 

As we came out of the kitchen, and were going across for a rest, there wasthe Captain busy with Elisabet's carriage. He called me up and said:

"I ought not to ask you now, when you're having your rest, but I wishyou'd go down and mend the door of the summer-house for me. "

"Right!" I said. 

Now that door had been wrong ever since the engineer burst it open severalnights before. What made the Captain so anxious to have it put right justat this moment? He'd have no use for the summerhouse while he was drivingElisabet home. Was it because he wanted to shut the place up so no oneelse should use it while he was away? It was a significant move, if so. 

I took some tools and things and went down to the shrubbery. 

And now I had my first look at the summer-house from inside. It wascomparatively new; it had not been there six years before. A roomy place, with pictures on the walls, and even an alarm clock--now run down--chairswith cushions, a table, and an upholstered settee covered with red plush. The blinds were down. 

I set a couple of pieces in the roof first, where I'd smashed it with myempty bottle; then I took off the lock to see what was wrong there. WhileI was busy with this the Captain came up. He had evidently been drinkingalready that day, or was suffering from a heavy bout the night before. 

"That's no burglary, " he said. "Either the door must have been left open, and slammed itself to bits, or some one must have stumbled up against itin the dark. One of the visitors, perhaps, that left the other day. "

But the door had been roughly handled, one could see: the lock was burstopen, and the woodwork on the inside of the frame torn away. 

"Let me see! Put a new bolt in here, and force the spring back in place, "said the Captain, examining the lock. He sat down in a chair. 

Fru Falkenberg came down the stone steps to the shrubbery, and called:

"Is the Captain there?"

"Yes, " said I. 

Then she came up. Her face was twitching with emotion. 

"I'd like a word with you, " she said. "I won't keep you long. "

The Captain answered, without rising:

"Certainly. Will you sit down, or would you rather stand? No, don't runaway, you! I've none too much time as it is, " he said sharply to me. 

This I took to mean that he wanted the lock mended so he could take thekey with him when he went. 

"I dare say it wasn't--I oughtn't to have said what I did, " Fruen began. 

The Captain made no answer. 

But his silence, after she had come down on purpose to try and make it up, was more than she could bear. She ended by saying: "Oh, well, it's all thesame; I don't care. "

And she turned to go. 

"Did you want to speak to me?" asked the Captain. 

"Oh no, it doesn't matter. Thanks, I shan't trouble. "

"Very well, " said the Captain. He smiled as he spoke. He was drunk, nodoubt, and angry about something. 

But Fruen turned as she passed by me in the doorway, and said:

"You ought not to drive down there today. There's gossip enough already. "

"You need not listen to it, " he answered. 

"It can't go on like this, you know, " she said again. "And you don't seemto think of the disgrace. .. . "

"We're both a little thoughtless in that respect, " he answered carelessly, looking round at the walls. 

I took the lock and stepped outside. 

"Here, don't go running away now!" cried the Captain. "I'm in a hurry!"

"Yes, you're in a hurry, of course, " repeated Fruen. "Going away again. But you'd do well to think it over just for once. I've been thinkingthings over myself lately; only you wouldn't see. .. . "

"What do you mean?" he asked, haughty and stiff as ever. "Was it yourfooling about at night with your hair down and lights out you thought Iwouldn't see? Oh yes, no doubt!"

"I'll have to finish this on the anvil, " said I, and hurried off. 

I stayed away longer than was needed, but when I came back Fruen was stillthere. They were talking louder than before. 

"And do you know what I have done?" said Fruen "I've lowered myself so faras to show I was jealous. Yes, I've done that. Oh, only about themaid . .. I mean. .. . "

"Well, and what then?" said the Captain. 

"Oh, won't you understand? Well, have it your own way, then. You'll haveto take the consequences later; make no mistake about that!"

These were her last words, and they sounded like an arrow striking ashield. She stepped out and strode away. 

"Manage it all right?" said the Captain as I came up. But I could see histhoughts were busy with other things; he was trying to appear unconcerned. A little after, he managed to yawn, and said lazily: "Ugh, it's a longdrive. But if Nils can't spare a hand I must go myself. "

I had only to fix the lock in its place, and set a new strip down theinside of the door-frame; it was soon done. The Captain tried the door, put the key in his pocket, thanked me for the work, and went off. 

A little later he drove away with Elisabet. 

"See you again soon, " he called to Captain Bror and Engineer Lassen, waving his hand to them both. "Mind that you have a good time while I'maway!"

IV

Evening came. And what would happen now? A great deal, as it turned out. 

It started early; we men were at supper while they were having dinner upat the house, and we could hear them carrying on as gaily as could be. Ragnhild was taking in trays of food and bottles, and waiting at table;once when she came out, she laughed to herself and said to the othergirls: "I believe Fruen's drunk herself tonight. "

I had not slept the night before, nor had my midday rest; I was troubledand nervous after all that had happened the last two days. So, as soon asI had finished my supper, I went out and up to the woods to be alone. Istayed there a long while. 

I looked down towards the house. The Captain away, the servants gone torest, the beasts in stable and shed fast asleep. Stout Captain Bror andhis lady, too, had doubtless found a quiet corner all to themselves afterdinner; he was simply wild about the woman, for all he was old and fat andshe herself no longer young. That left only Fru Falkenberg and the youngengineer. And where would they be now?

'Twas their affair. 

I sauntered home again, yawning and shivering a little in the cool night, and went up to my room. After a while Ragnhild came up, and begged me tokeep awake and be ready to help in case of need. It was horrible, shesaid; they were carrying on like mad things up at the house, walking aboutfrom one room to another, half undressed and drunk as well. Was Fruendrunk, too? Yes, she was. And was she walking about half undressed? No, but Captain Bror was, and Fruen clapped her hands and cried "Bravo!" Andthe engineer as well. It was one as bad as the other. And Ragnhild hadjust taken in two more bottles of wine, though they were drunk already. 

"Come over with me and you can hear them yourself, " said Ragnhild. "They're up in Fruen's room now. "

"No, " I said. "I'm going to bed. And you'd better go, too. "

"But they'll ring in a minute and be wanting something if I do. "

"Let them ring!"

And then it was Ragnhild confessed that the Captain himself had asked herto stay up that night in case Fruen should want her. 

This altered the whole aspect of affairs in a moment. Evidently theCaptain had feared something might happen, and set Ragnhild on guard incase. I put on my blouse again and went across with her to the house. 

We went upstairs and stood in the passage; we could hear them laughing andmaking a noise in Fruen's room. But Fruen herself spoke as clearly asever, and was not drunk at all. "Yes, she is, " said Ragnhild, "anyhow, she's not like herself tonight. "

I wished I could have seen her for a moment. 

We went back to the kitchen and sat down. But I was restless all the time;after a little I took down the lamp from the wall and told Ragnhild tofollow me. We went upstairs again. 

"No; go in and ask Fruen to come out here to me, " I said. 

"Why, whatever for?"

"I've a message for her. "

And Ragnhild knocked at the door and went in. 

It was only at the last moment I hit on any message to give. I couldsimply look her straight in the face and say: "The Captain sent his kindregards. " [Footnote: _Kapteinen bad mig hilse Dem_: literally, "TheCaptain bade me greet you. " Such a message would not seem quite souncalled for in Norway, such greetings (_Hilsen_) being given andsent more frequently, and on slighter occasions, than with us. ] Would thatbe enough? I might say more: "The Captain was obliged to drive himself, because Nils couldn't spare any one to go. "

But a moment can be long at times, and thought a lightning flash. I foundtime to reject both these plans and hatch out another before Fruen came. Though I doubt if my last plan was any better. 

Fruen asked in surprise:

"Well, what do you want?"

Ragnhild came up, too, and looked at me wonderingly. 

I turned the lamp towards Fruen's face and said:

"I beg pardon for coming up so late. I'll be going to the post first thingtomorrow; I thought if perhaps Fruen had any letters to go?"

"Letters? No, " she answered, shaking her head. 

There was an absent look in her eyes, but she did not look in the least asif she had been drinking. 

"No, I've no letters, " she said, and moved to go. 

"Beg pardon, then, " I said. 

"Was it the Captain told you to go to the post?" she asked. 

"No, I was just going for myself. "

She turned and went back to her room. Before she was well through the doorI heard her say to the others:

"A nice pretext, indeed. "

Ragnhild and I went down again. I had seen her. 

Oh, but I was humbled now indeed! And it did not ease my mind at all whenRagnhild incautiously let out a further piece of news. It seemed she hadbeen romancing before; it was not true about the Captain's having askedher to keep a look out. I grew more and more convinced in my own mind:Ragnhild was playing the spy on her own account, for sheer love of thegame. 

I left her, and, went up to my room. What had my clumsy intrusion gainedfor me, after all? A pretext, she had said; clearly she had seen throughit all. Disgusted with myself, I vowed that for the future I would leavethings and people to themselves. 

I threw myself down fully dressed on the bed. 

After a while I heard Fru Falkenberg's voice outside in front of thehouse; my window was open, and she spoke loudly enough. The engineer waswith her, putting in a word now and again. Fruen was in raptures over theweather, so fine it was, and such a warm night. Oh, it was lovely outnow--ever so much nicer than indoors!

But her voice seemed a trifle less clear now than before. 

I ran to the window, and saw the pair of them standing by the steps thatled down to the shrubbery. The engineer seemed to have something on hismind that he had not been able to get said before. "Do listen to me now, "he said. Then followed a brief and earnest pleading, which was answered--ay, and rewarded. He spoke as if to one hard of hearing, because she hadbeen deaf to his words so long; they stood there by the stone steps, neither of them caring for any one else in the world. Let any listen orwatch who pleased; the night was theirs, the world was theirs, and thespring-time was about them, drawing them together. He watched her like acat; every movement of her body set his blood tingling; he was ready tospring upon her in a moment. And when it came near to action there was apower of will in his manner towards her. Ay, the young spark!

"I've begged and prayed you long enough, " he said breathlessly. "Yesterdayyou all but would; today you're deaf again. You think you and Bror andTante [Footnote: "Auntie. " Evidently Captain Bror's lady is meant. ] andthe rest are to have a good time and no harm done, while I look on andplay the nice young man? But, by Heaven, you're wrong! Here's youyourself, a garden of all good things right in front of me, and a fence. .. Do you know what I'm going to do now with that silly fence?"

"What are you going to do? No, Hugo, you've had too much to drink thisevening. You're so young. We've both drunk more than we ought, " she said. 

"And then you play me false into the bargain, with your tricks. You send aspecial messenger for a letter that simply can't wait, and at the sametime you're cruel enough to let me think . .. To promise me. .. . "

"I'll never do it again, Hugo. "

"Never do it again? What do you mean by that? When you can go up to aman--yes, to me, and kiss me like you did. .. . What's the good of sayingyou'll never do it any more; it's done, and a kiss like that's not a thingto forget. I can feel it still, and it's a mad delight, and I thank youfor it You've got that letter in your dress; let me see it. "

"You're so excited, Hugo. No, it's getting late now. We'd better saygood-night. "

"Will you show me that letter?"

"Show you the letter? Certainly not!"

At that he made a half-spring, as if to take it by force, but checkedhimself, and snapped out:

"What? You won't? Well, on my word you are. .. . Mean's not the word for it. You're something worse. .. . "

"Hugo!"

"Yes, you are!"

"If you _will_ see the letter, here it is!" She thrust her hand intoher blouse, took out the letter, opened it, and waved it at him, flourishing her innocence. "Here's the letter--from my mother; there's hersignature--look. From mother--and now what have you to say?"

He quailed as if at a blow, and only said:

"From your mother. Why, then, it didn't matter at all?"

"No; there you are. Oh, but of course it did matter in a way, butstill. .. . "

He leaned up against the fence, and began to work it out:

"From your mother. .. . I see. A letter from your mother came andinterrupted us. Do you know what I think? You've been cheating. You'vebeen fooling me all along. I can see it all now. "

She tried again. 

"It was an important letter. Mama is coming--she's coming here to stayvery soon. And I was waiting to hear. "

"You were cheating all the time, weren't you?" he said again. "Let thembring in the letter just at the right moment, when we'd put out the light. Yes, that's it. You were just leading me on, to see how far I'd go, andkept your maid close at hand to protect you. "

"Oh, do be sensible! It's ever so late; we must go in. "

"Ugh! I had too much to drink up there, I think. Can't talk straight now. "

He could think of nothing but the letter, and went on about it again:

"For there was no need to have all that mystery about a letter from home. No; I see it all now. Want to go in, you say? Well then, go in, Fru, byall means. _Godnat, Frue_. My dutiful respects, as from a son. "

He bowed, and stood watching her with a sneering smile. 

"A son? Oh yes, " she replied, with sudden emotion. "I am old, yes. And youare so young, Hugo, that's true. And that's why I kissed you. But Icouldn't be your mother--no, it's only that I'm older, ever so much olderthan you. But I'm not quite an old woman yet, and that you should see ifonly . . . But I'm older than Elisabet and every one else. Oh, what am Italking about? Not a bit of it. I don't know what else the years may havedone to me, but they haven't made me an old woman yet. Have they? What doyou think yourself? Oh, but what do you know about it? . . . "

"No, no, " he said softly. "But is there any sense in going on like this?Here are you, young as you are, with nothing on earth to do all the timebut keep guard over yourself and get others to do the same. And the Lordin heaven knows you promised me a thing, but it means so little to you;you take a pleasure in putting me off and beating me down with your greatwhite wings. "

"Great white wings, " she murmured to herself. 

"Yes, you might have great red wings. Look at yourself now, standing thereall lovely as you are, and all for nothing. "

"Oh, I think the wine has gone to my head! All for nothing, indeed!"

Then suddenly she takes his hand and leads him down the steps. I can hearher voice: "Why should I care? Does he imagine Elisabet's so much better?"

They pass along the path to the summer-house. Here she hesitates, andstops. 

"Oh, where are we going?" she asks. "Haha, we must be mad! You wouldn'thave thought I was mad, would you? I'm not, either--that is to say, yes, Iam, now and again. There, the door's locked; very well, we'll go awayagain. But what a mean trick to lock the door, when we want to go in. "

Full of bitterness and suspicion, he answered:

"Now, you're cheating again. You knew well enough the door was locked. "

"Oh, must you always think the worst of me? But why should he lock thedoor so carefully and have the place all to himself? Yes, I _did_know it was locked, and that's why I came with you. I dare not. No, Hugo, I won't, I mean it. Oh, are you mad? Come back!"

She took his hand again and tried to turn back; they stood struggling alittle, for he would not follow. Then in his passion and strength he threwboth arms round her and kissed her again and again. And she weakened evermore and more, speaking brokenly between the kisses:

"I've never kissed any other man before--never! It's true--I swear it. I've never kissed. .. . "

"No, no, no, " he answers impatiently, drawing her step by step the way hewill. 

Outside the summer-house he looses his hold of her a moment, flingshimself, one shoulder forward, heavily against the door, and breaks itopen for the second time. Then in one stride he is beside her once more. Neither speaks. 

But even at the door, she checks again--stands clinging to the door-post, and will not move. 

"No, no, I've never been unfaithful to him yet. I won't; I've never--never. .. . "

He draws her to him suddenly, kisses her a full minute, two minutes, adeep, unbroken kiss; she leans back from the waist, her hand slips whereit holds, and she gives way. .. . 

A white mist gathers before my eyes. So . .. They have come to it now. Nowhe takes her, has his will and joy of her. .. . 

A melancholy weariness and rest comes over me. I feel miserable and alone. It is late; my heart has had its day. .. . 

Through the white mist comes a leaping figure; it is Ragnhild coming upfrom among the bushes, running with her tongue thrust out. 

 * * * * *

The engineer came up to me, nodded _Godmorgen_, and asked me to mendthe summer-house door. 

"Is it broken again?"

"Yes, it got broken last night. "

It was early for him to be about--no more than halfpast four; wefarm-hands had not yet started for the fields. His eyes showed small andglittering, as if they burned; likely enough he had not slept all night. But he said nothing as to how the door had got broken. 

Not for any thought of him, but for Captain Falkenberg's sake, I went downat once to the summer-house and mended the door once again. No need forsuch haste, maybe; the Captain had a long drive there and back, but it wasclose on twenty-four hours now since he started. 

The engineer came down with me. Without in the least perceiving how itcame about, I found myself thinking well of him; he had broken open thatdoor last night--quite so, but he was not the man to sneak out of itafter. He and no one other it was who had it mended. Eh, well, perhapsafter all 'twas only my vanity was pleased. I felt flattered at histrusting to my silence. That was it. That was how I came to think well ofhim. 

"I'm in charge of some timber-rafting on the rivers, " he said. "How longare you staying here?"

"Not for long. Till the field-work's over for the season. "

"I could give you work if you'd care about it. "

Now this was work I knew nothing of, and, what was more, I liked to beamong field and forest, not with lumbermen and proletariat. However, Ithanked him for the offer. 

"Very good of you to come and put this right. As a matter of fact, I brokeit open looking for a gun. I wanted to shoot something, and I thoughtthere might be a gun in there. "

I made no answer; it would have pleased me better if he had said nothing. 

"So I thought I'd ask you before you started out to work, " he said, tofinish off. 

I put the lock right and set it in its place again, and began nailing upthe woodwork, which was shattered as before. While I was busy with this, we heard Captain Falkenberg's voice; through the bushes we could see himunharnessing the horses and leading them in. 

The engineer gave a start; he fumbled for his watch, and got it out, buthis eyes had grown all big and empty--they could see nothing. Suddenly hesaid:

"Oh, I forgot, I must . . . "

And he hurried off far down the garden. 

"So he's going to sneak out of it, after all, " I thought to myself. 

A moment later the Captain himself came down. He was pale, and coveredwith dust, and plainly had not slept, but perfectly sober. He called to mefrom a distance:

"Hei! how did you get in there?"

I touched my cap, but said nothing. 

"Somebody been breaking in again?"

"It was only . . . I just remembered I'd left out a couple of nails hereyesterday. It's all right now. If Captain will lock up again . . . "

Fool that I was! If that was the best excuse I could find, he would seethrough it all at once. 

He stood for a few seconds looking at the door with half-closed eyes; hehad his suspicions, no doubt. Then he took out the key, locked up theplace, and walked off. What else could he do?

V

All the guests are gone--stout Captain Bror, the lady with the shawl, Engineer Lassen as well. And Captain Falkenberg is getting ready to startfor manoeuvres at last. It struck me that he must have applied for leaveon very special grounds, or he would have been away on duty long beforethis. 

We farm-hands have been hard at work in the fields the last few days--aheavy strain on man and beast. But Nils knew what he was doing; he wantedto gain time for something else. 

One day he set me to work cleaning up all round outside the house andbuildings. It took all the time gained and more, but it made the wholeplace look different altogether. And that was what Nils wanted--to cheerthe Captain up a little before he left home. And I turned to of my ownaccord and fixed up a loose pale or so in the garden fence, straightenedthe door of a shed that was wry on its hinges, and such-like. And the barnbridge, too, needed mending. I thought of putting in new beams. 

"Where will you be going when you leave here?" asked the Captain. 

"I don't know. I'll be on the road for a bit. "

"I could do with you here for a while; there's a lot of things that wantdoing. "

"Captain was thinking of paintwork, maybe?"

"Painting, too--yes. I'm not sure about that, though; it would be a costlybusiness, with the outbuildings and all. No, I was thinking of somethingelse. Do you know anything about timber, now? Could you mark down foryourself?"

It pleased him, then, to pretend he did not recognize me from the time Ihad worked in his timber before. But was there anything left now to fell?I answered him:

"Ay, I'm used to timber. Where would it be this year?"

"Anywhere. Wherever you like. There must be something left, surely. "

"Ay, well. "

I laid the new beams in the barn bridge, and when that was done, I tookdown the flagstaff and put on a new knob and line. Øvrebø was lookingquite nice already, and Nils said it made him feel better only to look atit. I got him to talk to the Captain and put in a word about thepaintwork, but the Captain had looked at him with a troubled air and said:"Yes, yes, I know. But paint's not the only thing we've got to thinkabout. Wait till the autumn and see how the crops turn out. We've sowed alot this year. "

But when the flagstaff stood there with the old paint all scraped off, anda new knob and halliards, the Captain could not help noticing it, andordered some paint by telegraph. Though, to be sure there was no suchhurry as all that; a letter by the post had been enough. 

Two days passed. The paint arrived, but was put aside for the time being;we had not done with the field-work yet by a long way, though we wereusing both the carriage horses for sowing and harrowing, and when it cameto planting potatoes, Nils had to ask up at the house for the maids tocome and help. The Captain gave him leave, said yes to all that was asked, and went off to manoeuvres. So we were left to ourselves. 

But there was a big scene between husband and wife before he went. 

Every one of us on the place knew there was trouble between them, andRagnhild and the dairymaid were always talking about it. The fields werecoming on nicely now, and you could see the change in the grassland fromday to day; it was fine spring weather, and all things doing well thatgrew, but there was trouble and strife at Øvrebø. Fruen could be seen attimes with a face that showed she had been crying; or other times with anair of exaggerated haughtiness, as if she cared nothing for any one. Hermother came--a pale, quiet lady with spectacles and a face like a mouse. She did not stay long--only a few days; then she went back toKristianssand--that was where she lived. The air here did not agree withher, she said. 

Ah, that great scene! A bitter final reckoning that lasted over an hour--Ragnhild told us all about it afterwards. Neither the Captain nor Fruenraised their voices, but the words came slow and strong. And in theirbitterness the pair of them agreed to go each their own way from now on. 

"Oh, you don't say so!" cried all in the kitchen, clasping their hands. 

Ragnhild drew herself up and began mimicking:

"'You've been breaking into the summer-house again with some one?' saidthe Captain. 'Yes, ' said Fruen. 'And what more?' he asked. 'Everything, 'said she. The Captain smiled at that and said: 'There's something frankand open about an answer like that; you can see what is meant almost atonce. ' Fruen said nothing to that. 'What you can see in that young puppy, I don't know--though he did help me once out of a fix. ' Fruen looked athim then, and said: 'Helped you?' 'Yes, ' said the Captain; 'backed a billfor me once. ' And Fruen asked: 'I didn't know that. ' Then the Captain:'Didn't he tell you that?' Fruen shook her head. 'Well, what then?' hesaid again. 'Would it have made any difference if he had?' 'Yes, ' saidFruen at first, and then, 'No. ' 'Are you fond of him?' he asked. And sheturned on him at once. 'Are you fond of Elisabet?' 'Yes, ' answered theCaptain; but he sat smiling after that. 'Well and good, ' said Fruensharply. Then there was a long silence. The Captain was the first tospeak, 'You were right when you said that about thinking over things. I'vebeen doing so. I'm not a vicious man, really; queerly enough, I've neverreally cared about drinking and playing the fool. And yet I suppose I did, in a way. But there's an end of it now. ' 'So much the better for you, ' sheanswered sullenly. 'Quite so, ' says he again. 'Though it would have beenbetter if you'd been a bit glad to hear it. ' 'You can get Elisabet to dothat, ' says she. 'Elisabet, ' says he--just that one word--and shakes hishead. Then they said nothing for quite a while. 'What are you going to donow?' asks the Captain. 'Oh, don't trouble yourself about me, ' said Fruenvery slowly. 'I can be a nurse, if you like, or cut my hair short and be aschool teacher, if you like. ' 'If I like, ' says he; 'no, decide foryourself. ' 'I want to know what you are going to do first, ' she says, 'I'mgoing to stay here where I am, ' he answered, 'but you've turned yourselfout of doors. ' And Fruen nodded and said: 'Very well. '"

"Oh, " from all in the kitchen. "Oh but, _Herregud_! it will comeright again surely, " said Nils, looking round at the rest of us to seewhat we thought. 

For a couple of days after the Captain had gone, Fruen sat playing thepiano all the time. On the third day Nils drove her to the station; shewas going to stay with her mother at Kristianssand. That left us morealone than ever. Fruen had not taken any of her things with her; perhapsshe felt they were not really hers; perhaps they had all come from himoriginally, and she did not care to have them now. Oh, but it was all amisery. 

Ragnhild was not to go away, her mistress had said. But it was cook thatwas left in charge of everything, and kept the keys, which was best forall concerned. 

On Saturday the Captain came back home on leave. Nils said he never usedto do that before. Fine and upright in his bearing he was, for all thathis wife was gone away, and he was sober as could be. He gave me orders, very short and clear, about the timber; came out with me and showed mehere and there. "Battens, down to smallest battens, a thousand dozen. Ishall be away three weeks this time, " he said. On the Sunday afternoon hewent off again. He was more determined in his manner now--more likehimself. 

We were through with the field-work at last, and the potato-planting wasdone; after that, Nils and the lad could manage the daily work bythemselves, and I went up to my new work among the timber. 

Good days these were for me, all through. Warm and rainy at first, makingthe woods all wet, but I went out all the same, and never stayed in onthat account. Then a spell of hot weather set in, and in the lightevenings, after I got home from work, it was a pleasure to go roundmending and seeing to little things here and there--a gutter-pipe, awindow, and the like. At last I got the escape ladder up and set toscraping the old paint from the north wall of the barn--it was flakingaway there of itself. It would be a neat piece of work if I could get thebarn done this summer after all, and the paint was there all ready. 

But there was another thing that made me weary at times of the work andthe whole place. It was not the same working there now as when the Captainand Fruen were home; I found here confirmation of the well-known truththat it is well for a man to have some one over him at his work, that is, if he is not himself in charge as leading man. Here were the maids now, going about the place with none to look after them. Ragnhild and thedairymaid were always laughing and joking noisily at meal-times andquarreling now and again between themselves; the cook's authority was notalways enough to keep the peace, and this often made things uncomfortable. Also, it seemed that some one must have been talking to Lars Falkenberg, my good old comrade that had been, and made him suspicious of me now. 

Lars came in one evening and took me aside; he had come to say he forbademe to show myself on his place again. His manner was comicallythreatening. 

Now, I had not been there more than a few times with washing--maybe half adozen times in all; he had been out, but Emma and I had talked a bit ofold things and new. The last time I was there Lars came home suddenly andmade a scene the moment he got inside the door, because Emma was sittingon a stool in her petticoat. "It's too hot for a skirt, " she said. "Ho, yes, and your hair all down your back--too hot to put it up, I suppose?"he retorted. Altogether he was in a rage with her. I said good-night tohim as I left, but he did not answer. 

I had not been there since. Then what made him come over like this all ofa sudden? I set it down as more of Ragnhild's mischievous work. 

When he had told me in so many words he forbade me to enter his house, Lars nodded and looked at me; to his mind, I ought now to be as one dead. 

"And I've heard Emma's been down here, " he went on. "But she'll come nomore, I fancy, after this. "

"She may have been here once or twice for the washing. "

"Ho, yes, the washing, of course. And you coming up yourself Heaven knowshow many times a week--more washing! Bring up a shirt one day and a pairof drawers the next, that's what you do. But you can get Ragnhild to doyour washing now. "

"Well and good. "

"Aha, my friend, I know you and your little ways. Going and visiting andmaking yourself sweet to folk when you find them all alone. But not forme, thank you!"

Nils comes up to us now, guessing, no doubt, what's the trouble, and readyto put in a word for me, like the good comrade he is. He catches the lastwords, and gives me a testimonial on the spot, to the effect that he'snever seen anything wrong about me all the time I've been on the place. 

But Lars Falkenberg bridles up at once and puts on airs, looking Nils upand down with contempt. He has a grudge against Nils already. For thoughLars had managed well enough since he got his own little place up in thewood, he had never equalled Nils' work here on the Captain's land. AndLars Falkenberg feels himself aggrieved. 

"What have you got to come cackling about?" he asks. 

"I'm saying what is the truth, that's all, " answers Nils. 

"Ho, are you, you goat? If you want me to wipe the floor with you, I'll doit on the spot!"

Nils and I walked away, but Lars still shouted after us. And there wasRagnhild, of course, sniffing at the lilacs as we passed. 

That evening I began to think about moving on again as soon as I hadfinished my work in the timber. When the three weeks were up, the Captaincame back as he had said. He noticed I had scraped the northern wall ofthe barn, and was pleased with me for that. "End of it'll be you'll haveto paint that again, too, " he said. I told him how far I had got with thetimber; there was not much left now. "Well, keep at it and do some more, "was all he said. Then he went back to his duty again for another threeweeks. 

But I did not care to stay another three weeks at Øvrebø as things werenow. I marked down a few score dozen battens, and reckoned it all out onmy paper--that would have to do. But it was still too early for a man tolive in the forests and hills; the flowers were come, but there were noberries yet. Song and twitter of birds at their mating, flies and midgesand moths, but no cloudberries, no angelica. 

 * * * * *

In town. 

I came in to Engineer Lassen, Inspector of rafting sections, and he tookme on as he had promised, though it was late in the season now. To beginwith, I am to make a tour of the water and see where the logs havegathered thickest, noting down the places on a chart. He is quite a goodfellow, the engineer, only still very young. He gives me over-carefulinstructions about things he fancies I don't know already. It makes himseem a trifle precocious. 

And so this man has helped Captain Falkenberg out of a mess? The Captainwas sorry for it now, no doubt, anxious to free himself from the debt--that was why he was cutting down his timber to the last lot of battens, Ithought. And I wished him free of it myself. I was sorry now I had notstayed on marking down a few more days, that he might have enough and tospare. What if it should prove too little, after all?

Engineer Lassen was a wealthy man, apparently. He lived at an hotel, andhad two rooms there. I never got farther than the office myself, but eventhere he had a lot of costly things, books and papers, silver things forthe writing-table, gilt instruments and things; a light overcoat, silk-lined, hung on the wall. Evidently a rich man, and a person ofimportance in the place. The local photographer had a large-sizedphotograph of him in the show-case outside. I saw him, too, out walking inthe afternoons with the young ladies of the town. Being in charge of allthe timber traffic, he generally walked down to the long bridge--it wasfour hundred and sixty feet--across the foss, halted there, and stoodlooking up and down the river. Just by the bridge piers, and on the flatrocks below them, was where the logs were most inclined to jam, and hekept a gang of lumbermen regularly at hand for this work alone. Standingon the bridge there, watching the men at work among the logs, he lookedlike an admiral on board a ship, young and strong, with power to command. The ladies with him stopped willingly, and stood there on the bridge, though the rush of water was often enough to make one giddy. And the roarof it was such that they had to put their heads together when they spoke. 

But just in this position, at his post on the bridge, standing there andturning this way and that, there was something smallish and unhandsomeabout his figure; his sports jacket, fitting tightly at the waist, seemedto pinch, and showed up over-heavy contours behind. 

The very first evening, after he'd given me my orders to start off up theriver next day, I met him out walking with two ladies. At sight of me hestopped, and kept his companions waiting there, too, while he gave me thesame instructions all over again. "Just as well I happened to meet you, "he said. "You'll start off early, then, tomorrow morning, take a hookingpole with you, and clear all the logs you can manage. If you come across abig jam, mark it down on the chart--you've got a copy of the chart, haven't you? And keep on up river till you meet another man coming down. But remember to mark in red, not blue. And let me see how well you canmanage. --A man I've got to work under me, " he explained to the ladies. "Ireally can't be bothered running up and down all the time. "

So serious he was about it all; he even took out a notebook and wrotesomething down. He was very young, and could not help showing off a littlewith two fair ladies to look on. 

Next morning I got away early. It was light at four, and by that time Iwas a good way up the river. I carried food with me, and my hooking pole--which is like a boat-hook really. 

No young, growing timber here, as on Captain Falkenberg's land; the groundwas stony and barren, covered with heather and pine needles for milesround. They had felled too freely here; the sawmills had taken over much, leaving next to no young wood. It was a melancholy country to be in. 

By noon I had cleared a few small jams, and marked down a big one. Then Ihad my meal, with a drink of water from the river. A bit of a rest, and Iwent on again, on till the evening. Then I came upon a big jam, where aman was already at work among the logs. This was the man I had been toldto look out for. I did not go straight up to him at first, but stopped tolook at him. He worked very cautiously, as if in terror of his life; hewas even afraid of getting his feet wet. It amused me to watch him for alittle. The least chance of being carried out into the stream on aloosened log was enough to make him shift at once. At last I went up closeand looked at him--why . .. Yes, it was my old friend, Grindhusen. 

Grindhusen, that I had worked with as a young man at Skreia--my partner inthe digging of a certain well six years before. 

And now to meet him here. 

We gave each other greeting, and sat down on the logs to talk, asking andanswering questions for an hour or more. Then it was too late to get anymore done that day. We got up and went back a little way up the river, where Grindhusen had a bit of a log hut. We crept in, lit a fire, madesome coffee, and had a meal. Then, going outside again, we lit our pipesand lay down in the heather. 

Grindhusen had aged, and was in no better case than I myself; he did notcare to think of the gay times in our youth, when we had danced the wholenight through. He it was that had once been as a red-haired wolf among thegirls, but now he was thoroughly cowed by age and toil, and had not even asmile. If I had only had a drop of spirits with me it might have livenedhim up a little, but I had none. 

In the old days he had been a stiff-necked fellow, obstinate as could be;now he was easy-going and stupid. "Ay, maybe so, " was his answer toeverything. "Ay, you're right, " he would say. Not that he meant it; onlythat life had taught him to seek the easiest way. So life does with all ofus, as the years go by--but it was an ill thing to see, meeting him so. 

Ay, he got along somehow, he said, but he was not the man he used to be. He'd been troubled with gout of late, and pains in the chest as well. Hispains in the chest were cardialgic. But it was none so bad as long as he'dthe work here for Engineer Lassen. He knew the river right up, and workedhere all spring and early summer in his hut. And as for clothes, he'dnothing to wear out save breeches and blouse all the year round. Had a bitof luck, though, last year, he said suddenly. Found a sheep with nobody toown it. Sheep in the forest? Up that way, he said, pointing. He'd had meaton Sundays half through the winter off that sheep. Then he'd his folks inAmerica as good as any one else: children married there and well-to-do. They sent him a little to help the first year or so, but now they'dstopped; it was close on two years now since he'd heard from them at all. Eyah! well, that's how things were now with him and his wife. And gettingold. .. . 

Grindhusen lapsed into thought. 

A dull, rushing sound from the forest and the river, like millions ofnothings flowing and flowing on. No birds here, no creatures hoppingabout, but if I turn up a stone, I may find some insect under it. 

"Wonder what these tiny things live on?" I say. 

"What tiny things?" says Grindhusen. "Those? That's only ants and things. "

"It's a sort of beetle, " I tell him. "Put one on the grass and roll astone on top of it, and it'll live. "

Grindhusen answers: "Ay, maybe so, " but thinking never a word of what I'vesaid, and I think the rest to myself; but put an ant there under the stoneas well, and very soon there'll be no beetle left. 

And the rush of the forest and river goes on: 'tis one eternity thatspeaks with another, and agrees. But in the storms and in thunder they areat war. 

"Ay, so it is, " says Grindhusen at last. "Two years come next fourteenthof August since the last letter came. There was a smart photograph in, from Olea, it was, that lives in Dakota, as they call it. A mighty finephotograph it was, but I never got it sold. Eyah, but we'll managesomehow, please the Lord, " says Grindhusen, with a yawn. "What was I goingto say now?. .. What is he paying for the work?"

"I don't know. "

But Grindhusen looks at me suspiciously, thinking it is only that I willnot say. 

"Ay, well, 'tis all the same to me, " he says. "I was only asking. "

To please him, I try to guess a wage. "I dare say he'll give me a coupleof Kroner a day, or perhaps three, d'you think?"

"Ay, dare say you may, " he answers enviously. "Two Kroner's all I get, andI'm an old hand at the work. "

Then fancying, perhaps, I may go telling of his grumbling, he starts offin praise of Engineer Lassen, saying what a splendid fellow he is in everyway. "He'll do what's fair by me, that I know. Trust him for that! Why, he's been as good as a father to me, and that's the truth!"

It sounds quaint, indeed, to hear Grindhusen, half his teeth gone withage, talking of the young engineer as a father. I felt pretty sure I couldfind out a good deal about my new employer from this quarter, but I didnot ask. 

"He didn't say anything about me coming down into town?" asked Grindhusen. 

"No. "

"He sends up for me now and again, and when I get there, it's not foranything particular--only wants to have a bit of a chat with me, that'sall. Ay, a fine fellow is the engineer!"

It is getting late. Grindhusen yawns again, creeps into the hut and liesdown. 

 * * * * *

Next morning we cleared the jam. "Come up with me my way a bit, " saysGrindhusen. And I went. After an hour's walking, we sighted the fields andbuildings of a hill farm up among the trees. And suddenly I recollect thesheep Grindhusen had found. 

"Was it up this way you found that sheep?" I ask. 

Grindhusen looks at me. 

"Here? No, that was ever so far away--right over toward Trovatn. "

"But Trovatn's only in the next parish, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's what I say. It's ever so far away from here. "

But now Grindhusen does not care to have my company farther; he stops, andthanks me for coming up so far. I might just as well go up to the farmwith him, and I say so; but Grindhusen, it seems, is not going up to thefarm at all--he never did. And I'd just have an easy day back into town, starting now. 

So I turned and went back the way I had come. 

VI

It was no sort of work this for a man; I was not satisfied. Nothing butwalk, walk up and down the river, clearing a few logs here and there, andthen on again. And after each trip, back to my lodging-house in the town. All this time I had but one man to talk to--the boots or porter at thehotel where the engineer was staying. He was a burly fellow, with hugefists, and eyes like a child's. He had fallen down and hurt his head as ayoungster, he said, and never got on in life beyond hauling things andcarrying heavy loads. I had a talk with him now and again, but found noone else to talk to in the town. 

That little town!

When the river is high, a mighty roar of sound goes rushing through theplace, dividing it in two. Folk live in their little wooden houses northor south of the roar, and manage, no doubt, to make ends meet from day today. Of all the many children crossing the bridge and running errands tothe shops, there are none that go naked, probably few that suffer want, and all are decent looking enough. And here are big, tall, half-growngirls, the quaintest of all, with their awkward movements, and theirlaughter, and their earnest occupation with their own little affairs. Nowand again they stop on the bridge to watch the lumbermen at work among thelogs below, and join in the song of the men as they haul--"_Hoi-aho!_"--and then they giggle and nudge one another and go on. 

But there are no birds here. 

Strange, that there should be no birds! On quiet evenings, at sunset-time, the great enclosed pool lies there with its deep waters unmoved; moths andmidges hover above it, the trees on the banks are reflected there, butthere are no birds in the trees. Perhaps it is because of the roar of thewater, that drowns all other sound; birds cannot thrive there, where nonecan hear another's song. And so it comes about that the only wingedcreatures here are flies and moths. But God alone knows why even the crowsand common birds shun us and our town. 

Every small town has its daily event that every one turns out for--and, asfor that, the big towns too, with their promenades. Out Vestland way it isthe postpacket. Living in Vestland, it's hard to keep away from the quaywhen the little vessel comes in. Here, in this inland town, with a dozenmiles or more to the sea, and nothing but rocks and hills all about, herewe have the river. Has the water risen or fallen in the night? Will theybe clearing logs from the booms today? Oh, we are all so interested! True, we have a little railway as well, but that doesn't count for much. Theline ends here; it runs as far as it can go, and then stops, like a corkin a bottle. And there's something cosy and pleasant about the tinycarriages on the trains; but folk seem ashamed of them, they are soridiculously old and worse for wear, and there's not even room to situpright with a hat on!

Not but what we've other things besides--a market, and a church, andschools, and post office, and all. And then there's the sawmills and worksby the riverside. But as for grocery shops and stores, there's more thanyou'd believe. 

We've so many things altogether. I am a stranger here myself--as indeed Iam everywhere--yet I could reckon up a host of things we have besides theriver. Was the town a big place once upon a time? No, it has been a littletown for two hundred and fifty years. But there was once a great man overall the smaller folk--one who rode lordly fashion with a servant behindhim--a great landowner. Now we are all equal; saving, perhaps, withEngineer Lassen, this something-and-twenty-year-old Inspector of raftingsections, who can afford two rooms at his hotel. 

I have nothing to do, and find myself pondering over the following matter:

Here is a big house, somewhere about a couple of hundred years old, thehouse of the wealthy Ole Olsen Ture. It is of enormous size, a house oftwo stories, the length of a whole block; it is used as a depot now. Inthe days when that house was built there was no lack of giant timberhereabouts; three beams together make the height of a man, and the wood ishard as iron; nothing can bite on it. And inside the building are hallsand cells as in a castle. Here Ture the Great ruled like a prince in hisday. 

But times changed. Houses were made not only big, not only to live in forshelter from cold and rain, but also to look on with pleasure to the eye. On the opposite side of the river stands an old archaic building withcarefully balanced verandah in the Empire style, pillars, fronton, andall. It is not faultless, but handsome all the same; it stands out like awhite temple on the green hillside. One other house I have seen andstopped to look at; one near the market-place. Its double street door hasold handles and carved rococo mirrors, but the frames cannelated in thestyle of Louis XVI. The cartouche above the doorway bears the date 1795 inArabic numerals--that was our transition period here! So there were folkhere at that time who kept in touch with the times, without the aid ofsteam and telegraph. 

But later on, again, houses were built to keep off rain and snow andnothing else. They were neither big nor beautiful to look at. The idea wasto put up some sort of a dwelling, Swiss fashion--a place to keep a wifeand children in, and that was all. And we learned from a miserable littlepeople up in the Alps, a people that throughout its history has never beenor done anything worth speaking of--we learned to pay no heed to what ahomestead really looked like, as long as it met with the approval ofloafing tourist. Is there something of the calm and beauty of a templeabout that white building on the hillside? And pray, what's the use of itif there is? And the great big house that dates from the time of Ole OlsenTure, why hasn't it been pulled down long ago? There would be room for ascore of cheap dwellings on the site. 

Things have gone downhill, gone to the depths. And now the littlecobbler-soul can rejoice--not because we're all grown equally great, butbecause we're all equally small. 'Tis our affair!

The long bridge is pleasant to walk on because it is paved with planks, and even as a floor; all the young ladies can walk gracefully here. Andthe bridge is light and open at the sides, making an excellent lookoutplace for us inquisitive folk. 

Down on the raft of tangled logs the men are shouting, as they strain tofree the timber that has caught and stuck fast among the rocks andboulders in the river-bed. Stick after stick comes floating down and joinsthe mass already gathered; the jam grows and grows; at times there may bea couple of hundred dozen balks hung up at one spot. But if all goes well, the gang can clear the jam in time. And if fate will have it ill, someunlucky lumberman may be carried down as well, down the rapids to hisdeath. 

There are ten men with boat-hooks on the jam, all more or less wet fromfalling in. The foreman points out the log next to be freed, but we, watching from the bridge, can see now and again that all the gang are notagreed. There is no hearing what is said, but we can see some of them areinclined to get another log out first; one of the old hands protests. Knowing his speech as I do, I fancy I can hear him say stubbornly andcalmly: "I doubt we'd better see and get _that_ one clear first. " Tenpairs of eyes are turned towards the stick he has chosen, tracing the lieof it in among its tangled fellows; if the men agree, ten boat-hooks arethrust into it. Then for a moment the poles stand out from the log likethe strings of a harp; a mighty "_Ho!_" from the gang, a short, tensehaul, and it moves a trifle forward. A fresh grip, another shout, andforward again. It is like watching half a score of ants about a twig. Andat last the freed log slides out and away down the foss. 

But there are logs that are almost immovable, and often it is just one ofthe worst that has to be cleared before anything else can be done. Thenthe men spread out and surround it, fixing their hooks wherever they canget a sight of it in the tangle, some hauling, others thrusting outward;if it is dry, they splash water over it to make it slippery. And here thepoles are nowise regularly set like harp-strings, but lie crosswise at allangles like a cobweb. 

Sometimes the shouting of the gang can be heard all day long from theriver, silenced only for meals; ay, it may happen that it goes on for daystogether. Then suddenly a new sound falls on the ear: the stroke of theax; some devil of a log has fixed itself so cunningly there is no haulingit free, and it has to be cut through. It does not take many strokes to doit, for the pressure on it already is enormous; soon it breaks, the greatconfused mass yields, and begins to move. All the men are on their guardnow, holding back to see what is coming next; if the part they arestanding on shows signs of breaking loose, they must leap with catlikeswiftness to a safer spot. Their calling is one of daily and hourly peril;they carry their lives in their hands. 

 * * * * *

But the little town is a living death. 

It is pitiful to see such a dead place, trying to pretend it is alive. Itis the same with Bruges, the great city of the past, and with many citiesin Holland, in South Germany, the north of France, the Orient. Standing inthe marketplace of such a town one cannot but think: "Once, once upon atime this was a living place; there are still human beings walking in thestreets!"

Strange, this town of ours is hidden away, shut in by the hills--and yetfor all that it has no doubt its local feminine beauty and its localmasculine ambition just as all other towns. Only it is such a queer, outlandish life that is lived here, with little crooked fingers, with eyesas of a mouse, and ears filled day and night with the eternal rushing ofthe waters. A beetle on its way in the heather, a stub of yellow grasssticks up here and there--huge trees they seem to the beetle's eye! Twolocal merchants walk across the bridge. Going to the post, no doubt. Theyhave this very day decided to go halves in a whole sheet of stamps, buyingthem all at once for the sake of the rebate on a quantity!

Oh, those local tradesmen!

Each day they hang out their stocks of ready-made clothes, and dress theirwindows with their stuffs and goods, but rarely do I see a customer go in. I thought to myself at first: But there must surely be some one now andthen--a peasant from somewhere up the valley, coming into town. And I wasright; I saw that peasant today, and it was strange and pleasant to seehim. 

He was dressed like the pictures in our folk-tales--a little short jacketwith silver buttons, and grey breeches with a black leather seat. He wasdriving a tiny little haycart with a tiny little horse, and up in the cartwas a little red-flanked cow--on its way to the butcher's, I suppose. Allthree--man, horse, and cow--were undersized; palaeolithic figures; dwarfcreatures from the underworld on a visit to the haunts of men. I almostlooked to see them vanish before my eyes. All of a sudden the cow in itsLilliputian cart utters a throaty roar--and even that unromantic sound waslike a voice from another world. 

A couple of hours later I come upon the man again, minus horse and cow: heis wandering round among the shops on his errands. I follow him to thesaddler's--saddler and harness-maker Vogt is also a glazier, and deals inleather as well. This merchant of many parts offers to serve me first, butI explain that I must look at a saddle, and some glass, and a trifle ofleather first, I am in no hurry. So he turns to the elfin countryman. 

The two are old acquaintances. 

"So here's you come to town?"

"Ay, that's the way of it. "

And so on through the whole rigmarole; wind and weather, and the state ofthe roads; wife and children getting on as usual; season and crops;river's fallen so much the last week; butchers' prices; hard timesnowadays, etc. Then they begin trying the leather, pinching and feelingand bending it about and talking it over. And when at last a strip is cutoff and weighed, the mannikin finds it a marvel, sure, that ever it couldweigh so much! Reckon it at a round figure, those little bits of weightsaren't worth counting! And the two of them argue and split over this for agood solid while, as is right and proper. When at last it comes to payingfor the goods, a fantastic leather purse is brought to light, a thing outof a fairy tale. Slowly and cautiously the heavy fist draws forth thecoins, one _skilling_ after another; both parties count the moneyover again and again, then the mannikin closes his purse with an anxiousmovement; that is all he has!

"Why, you've coin and paper too; I saw a note in there. "

"Nay, I'll not break the note. "

More reckoning and arguing--a long business this; each gives way a little, they split the difference--and the deal is over. 

"And a terrible heap to pay for a bit of leather, " says the purchaser. Andthe dealer answers:

"Nay, you've got it at a bargain. But don't forget me next time you're intown. "

Towards evening I meet the mannikin once more, driving home again afterhis venture into the world. The cow has been left behind at the butcher's. There are parcels and sacks in the cart, but the little man himself jogsalong behind, the leather seat of his breeches stretching to a triangle atevery step. And whether for thoughtlessness, or an overweight of thoughtafter all these doings and dealings, he wears a rolled-up strip of soleleather like a ring about one arm. 

So money has flowed into the town once more; a peasant has come in andsold his cow, and spent the price of it again in goods. The event isnoticed everywhere at once: the town's three lawyers notice it, the threelittle local papers notice it; money is circulating more freely of late. Unproductive--but it helps the town to live. 

Every week the little local papers advertise town properties for sale;every week a list is issued by the authorities of houses to be sold inliquidation of the unpaid tax. What then? Ah, but mark how many propertiescome on the market that way! The barren, rocky valley with its great rivercannot feed this moribund town; a cow now and again is not enough. And soit is that the properties are given up, the Swiss-pattern houses, thedwellings and shelters. Out Vestland way, if ever a house in one of thelittle towns should chance to come up for sale, it is a great event; theinhabitants flock together on the quay to talk it over. Here, in ourlittle town beyond all hope, it occasions no remark when another weariedhand leaves hold of what it had. My turn now--'twill be another's beforelong. And none finds it worth while sorrowing much for that. 

 * * * * *

Engineer Lassen came to my lodging and said:

"Put on your cap and come with me to the station to fetch a trunk. "

"No, " said I. "I'm not going to do that. "

"Not going to. .. . "

"No. There's a porter at the hotel for that sort of thing. Let him earnthe money. "

It was quite enough. The engineer was very young; he looked at me and saidnothing. But, being obstinate by nature, he would not give up at once; hechanged his tone. 

"I'd rather have you, " he said. "I've a reason for it, and I wish youwould. "

"That's a different matter. Then I will. "

I put on my cap, and I am ready; he walks on ahead, and I follow behind. Ten minutes waiting at the station, and the train comes in. It consists ofthree toy carriages, and a few passengers tumble out. In the rear carriageis a lady trying to alight; the engineer hurries to assist her. 

I paid no great heed to what was happening. The lady was veiled and woregloves; a light coat she handed to her escort. She seemed embarrassed atfirst, and said only a few words in a low voice, but he was quite thereverse, talking loudly and freely all the time. And, when he begged herto take off her veil, she grew bolder, and did as he said. 

"Do you know me now?" she said. And suddenly I pricked up my ears; it wasFru Falkenberg's voice. I turned round and looked her in the face. 

It is no easy matter to be old and done with and behave as such. Themoment I realized who it was standing there I could think of nothing butmy age-worn self, and how to stand and bow with ease and respect. Now, Ihad among my possessions a blouse, and breeches of brown corduroy such aslabourers wear in the south; an excellent, well-looking suit, and new. But, alas! I had not put it on today. And the lack of it at that momentirked me. I was down-hearted at the thought. And, while the two stoodthere talking, I fell to wondering why the engineer had wanted me soparticularly to come with him to the station. Could it be for the matterof a few _skilling_ to the porter? Or was it to show off with aservant at his heels? Or had he thought that Fruen would be pleased tohave some one she knew in attendance? If the last, then he was greatlymistaken; Fruen started in evident displeasure at finding me here, whereshe had thought, perhaps, to be safely concealed. I heard the engineersay: "I've got a man here, he'll take your luggage down. Have you theticket?" But I made no sign of greeting. I turned away. 

And afterwards I triumphed over him in my miserable soul, thinking howannoyed she would be with him for his want of tact. He brought up with hima man who had been in her employ when she had a home; but that man hadsome delicacy of feeling, he turned away, pretending not to know her! Lordknows what the woman found to run after in this tight-waisted youth withthe heavy contours behind. 

There are fewer people on the platform now; the little toy waggons arerolled away and shunted about to build another train; at last we are leftwith the whole place to ourselves. Fruen and the engineer stand talking. What has she come for? Heaven knows! Young Lovelace, perhaps, has had aspasm of longing and wants her again. Or is she come of her own accord totell him what has happened, and ask his advice? Like as not the end of itwill be they fix things up and get married some day. Mr. Hugo Lassen is, of course, a chivalrous gentleman, and she his one and only love. And thencomes the time when she should walk on roses and live happily ever after!

"No, really, it would never do!" he exclaims, with a laugh. "If you won'tbe my aunt, then you'll have to be my cousin. "

"S-sh!" whispers Fruen. "Can't you get rid of that man there?"

Whereupon the engineer comes up to me with the luggage receipt in hishand, and in his lordliest manner, as an Inspector of Waterways addressinga gang of lumbermen, he says:

"Bring this along to the hotel. "

"Very good, " I answered, touching my cap. 

I carried down the trunk, thinking as I went. He had actually invited herto pass as his aunt! Visibly older she might be than he; still, here againhe had shown himself wanting in tact. I would not have said such a thingmyself. I would have declared to all and sundry: "Behold, here is come abright angel to visit King Hugo; see how young and beautiful she is; markthe slow, heavy turn of her grey eyes; ay, a weighty glance! But there isa shimmer of sea-fire in her hair--I love her! Mark her, too, when shespeaks, a mouth good and fine, and with ever and again a little helplesslook and smile. I am King Hugo this day, and she is my love!"

The trunk was no heavier than many another burden, but there were bronzediron bands round, and one of them tore a hole in my blouse at the back. SoI thanked my stars I had not worn my better one. 

VII

Some days passed. I was growing tired of my empty occupation, whichconsisted in doing nothing but loaf about the place. I went to the foremanof the gang and asked him to take me on as a lumberman, but he refused. 

These gentlemen of the proletariat think a good deal of themselves; theylook down on farm-workers, and will have nothing to do with them. They areever on the move, going from one waterway to another, drawing their wagesin cash, and spending a fair part of the same in drink. Then, too, theyare more popular among the girls. It is the same with men working on theroads or railways, with all factory-hands; even the mechanic is lookeddown upon, and as for the farm-hand, he is a very slave!

Now, I knew I could be pretty sure of a place in the gang any day if Icared to ask the engineer. But, in the first place, I had no wish to befurther indebted to him, and in the second, I might be sure that if I did, my friends the lumbermen would make my life a misery until I had gonethrough all the trouble of making myself respected for my deserts. Andthat might take longer than I cared about. 

And then one day the engineer came to me with instructions that I was toobserve with care. He spoke politely and sensibly this time:

"We've had no rain for a long time now; the river's getting steadilylower, and the logs are piling up on the way down. I want you to tell theman above and the one below to be extra careful about their work just now, and you yourself, of course, will do the same. "

"We're sure to get rain before long, " I said, for the sake of sayingsomething. 

"That may be, " he answered, with the intense earnestness of youth, "but Imust act all the same as if there were never to be rain again. Nowremember every word I've said. I can't be everywhere at once myself, moreespecially now that I've a visitor. "

I answered him with a face as serious as his own that I would do my verybest. 

So I was still bound to my idling occupation after all, and wandered upand down the river as before with my boat-hook and my rations. For my ownsatisfaction I cleared away bigger and bigger jams unaided, sang to myselfas if I were a whole gang, and worked hard enough for many men; also Icarried the new instructions to Grindhusen, and frightened him properly. 

But then came the rain. 

And now the sticks went dancing down through channel and rapids, likehuge, pale serpents hurrying, hurrying on, now head, now tail in air. 

Easy days these for my engineer!

For myself, I was ill at ease in the town and in my lodging there. I had alittle room to myself, but one could hear every sound in the place, andthere was little rest or comfort. Moreover, I found myself outdone ineverything by the young lumbermen who lodged there. 

I patroled the river-bank regularly those days, though there was little ornothing for me to do there. I would steal away and sit in hiding under anover-hanging rock, hugging the thought of how I was old, and forsaken byall; in the evenings I wrote many letters to people I knew, just to havesome one to talk to; but I did not send the letters. 

Joyless days were these. My chief pleasure was to go about noticing everylittle trifle in the town, wherever it might be, and thinking a littleupon each. 

But was my engineer so free from care? I began to doubt it. 

Why was he no longer to be seen out early and late with this new cousin ofhis? He would even stop another young lady on the bridge and pass the timeof day--a thing he had not done this fortnight gone. I had seen him withFru Falkenberg once or twice; she looked so young and prettily dressed, and happy--a little reckless, laughing out loud. That's what it's likewhen a woman first steps aside, I thought to myself; but to-morrow or theday after it may be different! And when I saw her again later on I wasannoyed with her; there was something overbold about her dress and manner, the old charm and sweetness were gone. Where was the tenderness now in hereyes? Nothing but bravado! And furiously I told myself that her eyes shonelike a pair of lamps at the door of a music hall. 

By the look of things the couple had begun to weary of each other, sincehe had taken to going out alone, and she spend much of her time sittinglooking out of the window in the hotel. And this, no doubt, was why stoutCaptain Bror made his appearance once again; his mission was perhaps tobring jollity and mirth to others besides himself. And this jovial lump ofdeformity certainly did his best; his guffaws of laughter rang through thelittle town one whole night long. Then his leave expired, and he had to goback to drill and duty--Fru Falkenberg and her Hugo were left tothemselves once more. 

One day, while I was in a shop, I heard that there had been some slightdifference of opinion between Engineer Lassen and his cousin. A commercialtraveller was telling the shopkeeper all about it. But so great was thegeneral respect for the wealthy engineer throughout the town that theshopman would hardly believe the story, and questioned the scandal-mongerdoubtingly. 

"It must have been in fun, I'm sure. Did you hear it yourself? When wasit?"

The traveller himself did not dare to make more of it. 

"My room's next to his, " he said, "so I couldn't help hearing it lastnight. They were arguing; I don't say it was a quarrel--lord, no! asdelicate as could be. She only said he was different now from what he hadbeen; that he'd changed somehow. And he said it wasn't his fault, hecouldn't do as he liked here in town. Then she asked him to get rid ofsomebody she didn't like--one of his men, a lumberman, I suppose. And hepromised he would. "

"Well, there you are--just nothing at all, " said the shopkeeper. 

But the traveller had heard more, I fancy, than he cared to say. I couldtell as much by his looks. 

And had I not noticed myself how the engineer had changed? He had talkedout loud so cheerfully at the station that first day; now he could beobstinately silent when he did go so far as to take Fruen for a walk downto the bridge. I could see well enough how they stood looking each theirseparate ways. Lord God in heaven, but love is a fleeting thing!

All went well enough at first. She said, no doubt, that it was quite anice little place, with a great big river and the rapids, and so strangeto hear the roar of the waters all the time; and here was a real littletown with streets and people in--"And then you here, too!" And he ofcourse, would answer: "Yes, and you!" Oh, they were everything to eachother at first! But then they grew weary of good things; they took toomuch--took love in handfuls, such was their foolishness. And more and moreclearly he realized that things were getting awry; the town was such alittle place, and this cousin of his a stranger--he could not keep onbeing her attendant squire for ever. No, they must ease off a littlegradually; now and then, perhaps--only occasionally, of course--it wouldbe as well to have their meals at different times. If not, some of thosecommercial travellers would be getting ideas into their heads about theloving cousins. Remember, in a little place like this--and she . .. How_could_ she understand it? A little place--yes, but surely it was nosmaller now than it had been at first? No, no, my friend, it is you thathave changed!

 * * * * *

There had been plenty of rain, and the timber was coming down beautifully. Nevertheless, the engineer took to going off on little trips up or downthe river. It seemed as if he were glad to get away; he looked worried andmiserable altogether now. 

One day he asked me to go up and tell Grindhusen to come in to town. Wasit Grindhusen, I wondered, that was to be dismissed? But Fruen had neverso much as set eyes on Grindhusen since she came; what could he have doneto offend her?

I fetched Grindhusen in accordingly. He went up to the hotel at once toreport, and the engineer put on his things and went out with him. They setout up the river and disappeared. 

Later in the day Grindhusen came to my lodging, and was ready enough totell, but I asked him nothing. In the evening the lumberman gave him_Brændevin_, and the spirit loosened his tongue. What about thiscousin, or something, engineer has got with him? How much longer was shegoing to stay? As to this, nobody could say; and, anyhow, why shouldn'tshe stay? "'Tis naught but fooling and trouble with such-like cousinbusiness, " Grindhusen declared. "Why couldn't he bring along the girl he'sgoing to marry?--and I told him so to his face. "

"You told him?" asked one of the men. 

"Ay, I did that. You may not know it, but engineer and I we sit theretalking as it might be me and you, " said Grindhusen, looking mighty bigand proud. "What do you suppose he sent to fetch me for? You'd never guessif you sat there all night. Why, he sent for me just to have a talk overthings. Not that there's anything new or strange about that; he's done thesame before now; but, anyhow, that's what it was. "

"What'd he want to talk to you about?" asked one. 

Grindhusen swelled, and was not to be drawn at once. "Eh, I'm not such afool, but I know how to talk with a man. And it's not my way to becontrary neither. 'You know a thing or two, Grindhusen, ' says theInspector, 'and there's two Kroner for you, ' says he. Ay, that's what hesaid. And if you don't believe me, why, here's the money, and you can see. There!"

"But what was it all about?" asked several voices at once. 

"He'd better not say, if you ask me, " I said. 

It struck me that the engineer must have been miserable and desperate whenhe sent me to fetch Grindhusen. He was so little used to trouble that themoment anything went wrong he felt the need of some one to confide in. Andnow when he was going about day after day, thoroughly disheartened andfull of pity for himself, as if he wanted to know how miserable he was atbeing checked in his play. This sportsman, with his figure moulded in thewrong place, was a travesty of youth, a Spartan in tears. What sort ofupbringing could his have been?

Ah, well, if he had been an old man I had found reason and excuse for himenough; if the truth were known, it was perhaps but hatred of his youththat moved me now. Who can say? But I know I looked upon him as atravesty, a caricature. 

Grindhusen stared at me when I had spoken my few words; the others, too, looked wonderingly. 

"I'll not say, but it might be better not, " said Grindhusen submissively. 

But the men were not to be put off. 

"And why shouldn't he tell? We're not going to let it go farther. "

"No, that we shan't, " said another. "But you might be one of that sortyourself and go telling tales to the Inspector. "

Grindhusen took courage at this, and said:

"I'll say what I like, so don't you trouble yourself! Tell just as much asI please. For I'm saying no more than's true. And in case you'd care toknow, I can tell you the Inspector's got a word to say to you very soon. Ay, that he has, or hearing goes for nothing. So you've no call to beanyway stuck up yourself. And as for me telling or not telling things, I'msaying never a thing but what's the truth. Just remember that. And if youknew as much as I do, she's nothing but a plague and a burden to him allthe time, and won't let him out of her sight. D'you call that cousins, going on like that?"

"Nay, surely; nay, surely!" said the men encouragingly. 

"What d'you think he sent for me about? Ay, there's the pretty fellow hesent up with the message! But there'll be a message for him one of thesedays: I gathered as much from the Inspector himself. I'll say no more thanthat. And as for me telling things, here's Inspector's been like a fatherto me, and I'd be a stock and a stone to say otherwise. 'I'm all upset andworried these days, Grindhusen, ' says he to me. 'And what's a man to do;can you tell me that now?' 'No, ' says I, 'but Inspector knows himself, 'says I. Those very words I said. 'I wish to Heaven I did, ' says he again. 'But it's all these wretched women, ' says he. 'If it's women, ' says I, 'why, there's no doing anything with them, ' says I. 'No, indeed, you'reright there!' says he. 'The only way's to give them what they were madefor, and a good round slap on the backside into the bargain, ' says I. 'ByHeaven, I believe you're right there, Grindhusen, ' says the Inspector, andhe brightened up no end. I've never seen a man so brightened up andcheerful just for a word or so. It was a sight to see. And you can takeand drown me if it isn't gospel truth every single bit I've said. I satthere just as I'm sitting now, and Inspector as it might be there. .. . "

And Grindhusen rambled on. 

 * * * * *

Next morning early, before it was fairly light, Engineer Lassen stopped meon the street. It was only half-past three. I was all fitted out for atramp up the river, with my boat-hook and a store of food. Grindhusen washaving a drinking-bout in town, and I was going to do his beat as well asmy own. That would take me right up to the top of the hills, and I hadpacked a double stock of food accordingly. 

The engineer was evidently coming down from a party somewhere; he waslaughing and talking loudly with a couple of other men, all of them moreor less drunk. 

"Go on ahead a bit, " he said to the others. And then, turning to me, heasked: "Where are you off to?"

I told him what I had in mind. 

"H'm! I don't know about that, " said he. "No, I think you'd better not. Grindhusen can manage all right by himself. And, besides, I'm going toinspect myself. You've no business to go off doing things like thatwithout asking me first. "

Well, he was right of course, so far as that went, and I begged hispardon. And, indeed, knowing as I did how he was set on playing the masterand lording it over his men, I might have had more sense. 

But begging his pardon only seemed to egg him on; he felt deeply injured, and grew quite excited over it. 

"I'll have no more of this!" he said. "My men are here to carry out myorders; that's all they've got to do. I took you on to give you a chance, not because I'd any use for you myself. And I've no use for you now, anyhow. "

I stood there staring at him, and said never a word. 

"You can come round to the office today and get your wages, " he went on. And then he turned to go. 

So I was the one to be dismissed! Now I understood what Grindhusen hadmeant with his hints about me. Fru Falkenberg, no doubt, had come to hatethe sight of me by now, reminding her, as it must, of her home, and so shehad got him to turn me off. But hadn't I been the very one to showdelicacy of feeling towards her at the station, turning away instead ofrecognizing her? Had I ever so much as lifted my cap to her when I passedher in the street? Surely I had been considerate enough to deserveconsideration in return?

And now--here was this young engineer turning me off at a moment's notice, and that with unnecessary vehemence. I saw it all in my mind: he had beenworrying himself for days over this dismissal, shirking it all the time, until at last he managed to screw his courage up by drinking hard allnight. Was I doing him an injustice? It might be so; and I tried to combatthe thought myself. Once more I called to mind that he was young and I wasold, and my heart no doubt, full of envy on that account. So I gave him nosarcastic answer now, but simply said:

"Ay, well, then, I can unpack the things I was taking along. "

But the engineer was anxious to make the most of his chance now he wasfairly started; he dragged in the old story about the time he'd wanted meto go and fetch a trunk. 

"When I give an order, I don't expect the man to turn round and say no, hewon't. I'm not used to that sort of thing. And as there's no knowing itmay not occur again, you'd better go. "

"Well and good, " said I. 

I saw a figure in a white dress at a window in the hotel, and fancied itmust be Fru Falkenberg watching us, so I said no more. 

But then the engineer seemed suddenly to remember that he couldn't get ridof me once and for all on the spot; he would have to see me again tosettle up. So he changed his tone and said: "Well, anyhow, come upsometime to-day and get your money. Have you thought over how much itought to be?"

"No. That'll be for engineer himself to decide. "

"Well, well, " he said in a kindlier voice, "after all, you've been a goodman to have, I will say that for you. But, for various reasons--and it'snot only for myself: you know what women--that is, I mean the ladies--"

Oh, but he was young indeed. He stopped at nothing. 

"Well--good morning!" He nodded abruptly, and turned away. 

 * * * * *

But the day proved all too short for me; I went up into the woods, andstayed roaming about there all by myself so long that I didn't get to theoffice to draw my money. Well, there was no hurry; I had plenty of time. 

What was I to do now?

I had not cared much for the little town before, but now it began tointerest me; I would gladly have stayed on a while. There werecomplications arising between two people whom I had been followingattentively for some weeks past; something fresh might happen any momentnow, there was no saying. I thought of going as apprentice to ablacksmith, just for the sake of staying in the place, but then, if I did, I should be tied to the smithy all day and hampered in my movementsaltogether; apart from which, the apprenticeship would take too many yearsof my life. And years were the thing I least of all could spare. 

So I let the days pass, one after another; the weather changed round againto dry, sunny days. I stayed on at the lodging-house, mended my clothes, and got some new ones made at a shop. One of the maids in the house cameup one evening and offered to do some mending for me, but I was more inthe mood for fooling, and showed her how well I managed the work myself. 

"Look at that patch, there, now--and that!" After a while a man came upthe stairs and tried the door. "Open, you within!" he said. 

"It's Henrik, one of the lumbermen, " said the girl. 

"Is he your sweetheart?" I asked. 

"No, indeed, I should think not, " she answered. "I'd rather go withoutthan have a fellow like him. "

"Open the door, d'you hear!" cried the man outside. But the girl was notfrightened in the least. "Let him stay outside, " she said. And we let himstay outside. But that door of mine bent inwards in a great curve everynow and then, when he pushed his hardest. 

At last, when we'd finished making fun about my needlework and hersweethearts, I had to go out and see the passage was clear before shewould venture downstairs. But there was no man there. 

It was late now; I went down to the parlour for a bit, and there wasGrindhusen drinking with some of the gang. "There he is!" said one ofthem, as I came in. It was Henrik who spoke; he was trying to get hismates against me. Grindhusen, too, sided with the rest of them, and triedall he could to annoy me. 

Poor Grindhusen! He was stale-drunk all the time now, and couldn't getclear of it. He had had another meeting with Engineer Lassen; they hadwalked up the river as before and sat talking for an hour, and whenGrindhusen came back he showed a new two-Kroner piece he'd got. Then hewent on the drink again, and gabbled about being in the engineer'sconfidence. This evening, too, he was all high-and-mightiness, not to beoutdone by anybody. 

"Come in and sit down, " he said to me. 

But one or two of the other men demurred; they would have nothing to dowith me. And at this Grindhusen changed front; for sheer devilment he fellto again about the engineer and his cousin, knowing it would annoy me. 

"Well, has he turned you off?" he asked, with a side glance at the others, as if to bid them watch what was coming. 

"Yes, " said I. 

"Aha! I knew all about it days ago, but I never said a word. I don't mindsaying I knew about it before any other single soul in the world of ushere, but did I ever breathe a word of it? Inspector he says to me: 'Iwant to ask you something, Grindhusen, ' says he, 'and that is, if you'llcome down and work in the town instead of the man I've got there now. Iwant to get rid of him, ' says he. 'Why, as to that, ' says I, 'it's just asInspector's pleased to command. ' That was my very words, and neither morenor less. But did I ever breathe a syllable?"

"Has he turned you off?" asked one of the other men then. 

"Yes, " I answered. 

"But as for that cousin of his, " Grindhusen went on, "he asked me abouther, too. Ay, Inspector, he asks my advice about all sorts of things. Andnow, this last time we were up the river together, he slapped his kneewhen he talked of her. So there. And you can guess for yourselves tilltomorrow morning if you like. Everything of the best to eat and drink andevery way, and costing a heap of money each week; but she stays on and on. Fie and for shame, say I, and I mean it too. "

But now it seemed as if the scale had turned in my favour at the news ofmy dismissal; some of the men perhaps felt sorry for me, others were gladto learn that I was going. One of them offered me a drink from his ownbottle, and called to the maid for "another glass--a clean one, youunderstand!" Even Henrik no longer bore me any grudge, but drank with meand was friendly enough. And we sat there gossiping over our glasses quitea while. 

"But you'd better go up and see about that money of yours, " saidGrindhusen. "For from what I've heard, I don't fancy you'll get theInspector to come down here with it after you. He said as much. 'There'smoney owing to him, ' that was what he said, 'but if he thinks I'm going torun after him with it, you can tell him it's here, ' he said. "

VIII

But the engineer did come down after me, as it turned out, though it wasqueer it should be so. Anyhow, it was a triumph I had not sought, and Icared nothing for it. 

He came to the lodging-house to see me, and said: "I want you to come backwith me, if you please, and get your money. And there's a letter come foryou by the post. "

When we stepped into the office, Fru Falkenberg was there. I was takenaback at finding her there. I made a bow and stood over by the door. 

"Sit down, won't you?" said the engineer, going to the table for myletter. "Here you are. No, sit down and read your letter while I'mreckoning up your pay. "

And Fru Falkenberg herself motioned me to a chair. 

Now, what were they looking so anxious about? And what was the meaning ofthis sudden politeness and "Won't you sit down?" and all the rest? I hadnot to wait long to find out: the letter was from Captain Falkenberg. 

"Here, you can use this, " said Fruen very obligingly, handing me aletter-opener. 

A simple, ordinary letter, nothing more; indeed, it began almostjestingly: I had run away from Øvrebø before he knew I was going, andhadn't even waited for my money. If I imagined he was in difficulties andwould not be able to pay me before the harvest was in--if that was why Ihad left in such a hurry, why, he hoped I had found out I was mistaken. And now he would be very glad if I would come back and work for him if Iwasn't fixed up elsewhere. The house and outbuildings wanted painting, then there would be the harvesting, and, after that, he would like to haveme for work among the timber. Everything looking well here, fields niceand tall, meadows nice and thick. Glad to hear as soon as you can inanswer to this, --Yours, FALKENBERG. 

The engineer had finished his reckoning. He turned on his chair and lookedover at the wall. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he turnedsharply to the table again. Nervousness, that was all. Fruen stood lookingat her rings, but I had a feeling she was stealthily watching me all thetime--thoroughly nervous, the pair of them!

Then said the engineer:

"Oh, by the way, I noticed your letter was from Captain Falkenberg. Howare things going there? I knew the writing at once. "

"Would you like to read the letter?" I said promptly, offering it as Ispoke. 

"No--oh no. Thanks, all the same. Not in the least. I was only. .. . "

But he took the letter, all the same. And Fruen came across to him andstood looking over his shoulder as he read. 

"H'm!" said the engineer, with a nod. "Everything going on nicely, itseems. Thanks. " And he held out the letter to give it back. 

Fruen's manner was different. She took the letter from him and beganstudying it herself. Her hand shook a little. 

"Well, now about the money, " said the engineer. "Here you are; that's whatI make it. I hope you're satisfied all right?"

"Yes, thank you, " said I. 

He seemed relieved to find that Captain Falkenberg's letter was only aboutmyself and made no mention of anyone else. And again he tried to softendown my dismissal. 

"Well, well, " he said. "But if you should happen to be in these parts anytime, you know where to find me. We've all but finished now for thisyear--there's been too much drought just lately. "

Fruen was still holding the letter. Then I saw she had finished reading, for her eyes never moved; but she stood there, staring at the letter, thinking. What was in her mind, I wondered?

The engineer glanced at her impatiently. 

"Are you learning it by heart?" he said, with a half-smile. "Come, dear, he's waiting. "

"Oh, I beg your pardon, " said Fruen quickly. "I forgot. " And she handed methe letter. 

"So it seems, " observed the engineer. 

I bowed, and went out. 

 * * * * *

On a summer evening the bridge is crowded with people out walking--schoolteachers and tradespeople, young girls and children. I watch my time whenit is getting late, and the bridge is deserted; then I can lounge overthat way myself, and stay for an hour or so in the midst of the roar. Noneed to do anything really but listen; only my brain is so over-restedwith idleness and good sound sleep, it finds no end of things to busyitself about. Last evening I determined in all seriousness to go to FruFalkenberg and say:

"Go away from here, Frue; leave by the first train that goes. " Today Ihave been calling myself a fool for entertaining such a ridiculousthought, and set in its place another: "Get out of this yourself, my goodman, by the first train that goes. Are you her equal, her adviser? Verywell, then; see that what you do is not too utterly at variance with whatyou are!"

And this evening I am still treating myself as I deserve. I fall tohumming a little tune, but can scarcely hear it myself! the sound iscrushed to death in the roar of the water. "That's right, " I say to myselfscornfully. "You ought always to stand by a deafening foss when you feellike humming a tune. " And I laugh at myself again. With suchlike childishfancies do I pass the time. 

The noise of the rapids anywhere inland is as useful to the ear as thenoise of breakers on the shore. But the voice of the breakers is louderand fainter by turns. The roar of waters in a river-bed is like an audiblefog, a monotony of sound beyond reason, contrary to all sense, a miracleof idiocy. "What is the time, do you know?" "Yes, isn't it?" "Day ornight?" "Yes!" As if some one had laid a stone on six keys of an organ, and walked off and left it there. 

With such childish fancies do I while away the time. 

"_Godaften_!" says Fru Falkenberg, and there she is beside me. 

I hardly felt surprised; it was almost as if I had expected her. After herbehaviour with her husband's letter, she might well go a little farther. 

Now I could think two ways about her coming: either she had turnedthoroughly sentimental at being reminded so directly of her home oncemore, or she wanted to make her engineer jealous; he might perhaps bewatching us from his window that very moment, and I had been sent for togo back to Øvrebø. Possibly she was thoroughly calculating, and had beentrying to work on his jealousy even yesterday, when she studied the letterso attentively. 

It seemed, however, that none of my clever theories was to be confirmed. It was me she wanted to see, and that only to make a sort of apology forgetting me dismissed. That she should ever care about such a trifle! Wasshe so incapable of thinking seriously that she could not see what amiserable position she herself was in? What in the devil's name had she todo with my affairs?

I had thought to say a brief word or so and point to the train, butsomething made me gentle, as if I were dealing with an irresponsible, achild. 

"You'll be going back to Øvrebø now, I suppose?" she said. "And I thoughtI'd like. .. . H'm!. .. You're sorry to be leaving here, perhaps? No? No, no, of course not. But I must tell you something: It was I that got youdismissed. "

"It doesn't matter. "

"No, no. Only, I wanted to tell you. Now that you're going back to Øvrebø. You can understand it was a little unpleasant for me at times to. .. . "

She checked herself. 

"To have me about the place. Yes, it would be unpleasant. "

"To see you here. A _little_ unpleasant; I mean, because you knewabout me before. So I asked the engineer if he couldn't send you away. Notthat he wanted to himself, you understand. Quite the reverse, in fact, buthe did at last. I'm glad you're going back to Øvrebø. "

"So?" said I. "But when Fruen comes home again surely it will be just asunpleasant to see me then?"

"Home?" she repeated. "I'm not going home. "

Pause. She had frowned as she spoke. But now she nodded, and even smiled alittle, and turned to go. 

"Well, well, you'll pardon me, then, I know, " she said. 

"Have you any objection to my going back to Captain Falkenberg?" I asked. 

She stopped, and looked me full in the face. Now, what was the right thinghere? Three times she had spoken of Øvrebø. Was it with the idea that Imight put in a word for her if opportunity offered, when I got back there?Or was she unwilling to ask of me as a favour not to go?

"No, no, indeed I've not!" she answered. "Go there, by all means. "

And she turned and left me. 

Neither sentimental nor calculating, as far as I could see. But she mightwell have been both. And what had I gained by my attempt at a confidentialtone? I should have known better than to try, whether she stayed here orwent elsewhere. What business was it of mine? 'Twas her affair. 

You're playing and pretending, I said to myself. All very well to sayshe's literature and no more, but that withered soul of yours showed goodsigns of life when she was kind to you and began looking at you with thosetwo eyes of hers. I'm disappointed; I'm ashamed of you, and to-morrow yougo!

But I did not go. 

And true it is that I went about spying and listening everywhere foranything I could learn of Fru Falkenberg; and then at times, ay, many anight, I would call myself to account for that same thing, and torturemyself with self-contempt. From early morning I thought of her: is sheawake yet? Has she slept well? Will she be going back home to-day? And atthe same time all sorts of ideas came into my head. I might perhaps getwork at the hotel where she was staying. Or I might write home for someclothes, turn gentleman myself, and go and stay at that same hotel. Thislast, of course, would at once have cut the ground from under my feet andleft me farther removed from her than ever, but it was the one thatappealed to me most of all, fool that I was. I had begun to make friendswith the hotel porter, already, merely because he lived nearer to her thanI. He was a big, strong fellow, who went up to the station every day tomeet the trains and pick up a commercial traveller once a fortnight. Hecould give me no news; I did not ply him with questions, nor even lead himon to tell me things of his own accord; and, besides, he was far fromintelligent. But he lived under the same roof with Fruen--ah yes, that hedid. And one day it came about that this acquaintance of mine with thehotel porter brought me a piece of valuable information about FruFalkenberg, and that from her own lips. 

So they were not all equally fruitless, those days in the little town. 

One morning I came back with the porter from the station; he had picked upa traveller with a heap of luggage, and had to take horse and cart tofetch the heavy grey trunks. 

I had helped him to get them loaded up at the station, and now, as wepulled up at the hotel, he said: "You might lend a hand getting thesethings in; I'll stand you a bottle of beer this evening. "

So we carried in the trunks together. They were to be taken up at once tothe big luggage-room upstairs; the owner was waiting for them. It was aneasy job for the two of us big, strong fellows both. 

We had got them up all but one--that was still in the cart--when theporter was called back upstairs; the traveller was giving him instructionsabout something or other. Meantime, I went out, and waited in the passage;I did not belong to the place, and did not want to be seen hanging abouton the stairs by myself. 

Just then the door of Engineer Lassen's office opened, and he and FruFalkenberg came out. They looked as if they had just got up; they had nohats on; just going down to breakfast, no doubt. Now, whether they did notnotice me, or took me for the porter standing there, they went on withwhat they had been saying. 

"Quite so, " says the engineer. "And it won't be any different. I can't seewhat you've got to feel lonely about. "

"Oh, you know well enough!" she answered. 

"No, I don't, and I do think you might be a little more cheerful. "

"You wouldn't like it if I were. You'd rather have me stay as I am, miserable and wretched, because you don't care for me any more. "

He stopped on the stairs abruptly. "Really, I think you must be mad, " hesaid. 

"I dare say I am, " she answered. 

How poorly she held her own in a quarrel! It was always so with her. Whycould she not be careful of her words, and answer so as to wound him, crush him altogether?

He stood with one hand on the stair-rail and said:

"So you think it pleases me to have things going on like this? I tell youit hurts me desperately--has done for a long time past. "

"And me, " she answered. "But now I'll have no more of it. "

"Oh, indeed! You've said that before. You said it only a week ago. "

"Well, I am going now. "

He looked up at her. 

"Going away?"

"Yes. Very soon. "

But he saw that he had betrayed himself in grasping so eagerly, delightedly, at the suggestion, and tried now to smooth it over. 

"There, there!" he said. "Be a nice sensible cousin now, and don't talkabout going away. "

"I am going, " she said, and, slipping past him, went down the stairs byherself. He followed after. 

Then the porter came out and we went down together. The last box wassmaller than the others. I asked him to carry it up himself, pretending Ihad hurt my hand. I helped him to get it on his back, and went off home. Now I could go away the following day. 

That afternoon Grindhusen, too, was dismissed. The engineer had sent forhim, given him a severe talking to for doing no work and staying in townand getting drunk; in a word, his services were no longer needed. 

I thought to myself: It was strangely sudden, this new burst of courage onthe part of the engineer. He was so young, he had needed some one to backhim up and agree to everything he said; now, however, seeing that acertain troublesome cousin was going away, he had no further need ofcomfort there. Or was my withered soul doing him an injustice?

Grindhusen was greatly distressed. He had reckoned on staying in town allthe summer, as general handyman to the Inspector himself; but all hope ofthat was gone now. The Inspector was no longer as good as a father to him. And Grindhusen bore the disappointment badly. When they came to settle up, the Inspector had been going to deduct the two-Kroner pieces he had givenhim, saying they had only been meant as payment in advance. Grindhusen satin the general room at the lodging-house and told us all about it, addingthat the Inspector was pretty mean in the matter of wages after all. Atthis, one of the men burst out laughing, and said:

"No; did he, though? He didn't take them back, really?"

"Nay, " said Grindhusen. "He didn't dare take off more than the one. "

There was more laughter at this, and some one else asked:

"No, really? Which one was it? Did he knock off the first two-Kroner orthe second? Ha, ha, ha! That's the best I've heard for a long time. "

But Grindhusen did not laugh; he grew more and more sullen and despairing. What was he to do now? Farm labourers for the season's work would havebeen taken on everywhere by now, and here he was. He asked me where I wasgoing, and when I told him, he begged me to put in a word for him with theCaptain, and see if I couldn't get him taken on there for the summer. Meantime, he would stay on in the town, and wait till he heard from me. 

But I knew there would soon be an end of Grindhusen's money if he stayedon in the town. The end of it was, I took him along with me, as the bestthing to be done. He had been a smart hand at paint-work once, hadGrindhusen; I remembered how he had done up old Gunhild's cottage on theisland. He could come and help me now, for the time being; later on, wewould surely find something else for him to do; there would be plenty offield-work in the course of the summer where he might be useful. 

 * * * * *

The 16th July found me back at Øvrebø. I remember dates more and moredistinctly now, partly by reason of my getting old and acquiring theintensified interest of senility in such things, partly because of being alabourer, and obliged to keep account of my working days. But an old manmay keep his dates in mind and forget all about far more important things. Up to now, for instance, I have forgotten to mention that the letter I hadfrom Captain Falkenberg was addressed to me care of Engineer Lassen. Welland good. But the point appeared significant: the Captain, then, hadascertained whom I was working for. And it came into my mind that possiblythe Captain was also aware of who else had been in the care of EngineerLassen that summer!

The Captain was still away on duty when I arrived; he would be back in aweek. As it was, Grindhusen was very well received; Nils was quite pleasedto find I had brought my mate along, and refused to let me keep him tohelp with the painting, but sent him off on his own responsibility to workin the turnip and potato fields. There was no end of work--weeding andthinning out--and Nils was already in the thick of the hay-making. 

He was the same splendid, earnest farmer as ever. At the first rest, whilethe horses were feeding, he took me out over the ground to look at thecrops. Everything was doing well; but it had been a late spring that year, and the cat's-tail was barely forming as yet, while the clover had justbegun to show bloom. The last rain had beaten down a lot of the first-yeargrass, and it could not pick up again, so Nils had put on themowing-machine. 

We walked back home through waving grass and corn; there was a whisperingin the winter rye and the stout six-rowed barley. Nils, who had notforgotten his schooling, called to mind that beautiful line of Bjørnson's:

 "_Beginning like a whisper in the corn one summer day_. "

"Time to get the horses out again, " said Nils, stepping out a little. Andwaving his hand once more out over the fields, he said: "What a harvestwe'll have this year if we can only get it safely in!"

So Grindhusen went off to work in the fields, and I fell to on thepainting. I started with the barn, and all that was to be red; then I didover the flagstaff and the summer-house down among the lilacs with thefirst coat of oil. The house itself I meant to leave till the last. It wasbuilt in good old-fashioned country style, with rich, heavy woodwork and acarved border, _à la grecque_, above the doorway. It was yellow as itwas, and a new lot of yellow paint had come in to do with this time. Itook upon myself, however, to send the yellow back, and get another colourin exchange. In my judgment the house ought to be stone-grey, with doorsand window-frames and verge-boards white. But that would be for theCaptain to decide. 

But though every one on the place was as nice as could be, and the cook inauthority lenient, and Ragnhild as bright-eyed as ever, we all felt itdull with the master and mistress away. All save Grindhusen, honestfellow, who was quite content. Decent work and good food soon set him upagain, and in a few days he was happy and waxing fat. His one anxiety waslest the Captain should turn him off when he came home. But no suchthing--Grindhusen was allowed to stay. 

IX

The Captain arrived. 

I was giving the barn its second coat; at the sound of his voice I camedown from the ladder. He bade me welcome. 

"Running away from your money like that!" he said. And I fancied he lookedat me with some suspicion as he asked: "What did you do that for?"

I answered simply that I had no idea of presuming to make him a present ofmy work; the money could stand over, that was all. 

He brightened up at that. 

"Yes, yes, of course. Well, I'm very glad you came. We must have theflagstaff white, I suppose?"

I did not dare tell him at once all I wanted done in white, but simplysaid:

"Yes. I've got hold of some white paint. "

"Have you, though? That's good. You've brought another man up with you, Ihear?"

"Yes. I don't know what Captain thinks. .. . "

"He can stay. Nils has got him to work out in the fields already. Andanyhow, you all seem to do as you like with me, " he added jestingly. "Andyou've been working with the lumbermen, have you?"

"Yes. "

"Hardly the sort of thing for you, was it?" Then, as if anxious not toseem curious about my work with Engineer Lassen, he broke off abruptly andsaid: "When are you going to start painting the house?"

"I thought of beginning this afternoon. It'll need scraping a bit here andthere. "

"Good. And if you find the woodwork loose anywhere, you can put in a nailor so at the same time. Have you had a look at the fields?"

"Yes. "

"Everything's looking very nice. You men did good work last spring. Do noharm now if we had a little rain for the upper lands. "

"Grindhusen and I passed lots of places on the way up that needed rainmore than here. It's clay bottom here, and far up in the hills. "

"That's true. How did you know that, by the way?"

"I looked about when I was here in the spring, " I answered, "and I did alittle digging here and there. I'd an idea you'd be wanting to have waterlaid on to the house some time or other, so I went prospecting a bit. "

"Water laid on? Well, yes, I did think of it at one time, but. .. . Yes, Iwas going to have it done some years back; but I couldn't get everythingdone at once, and then it was held up. And just now I shall want the moneyfor other things. "

A wrinkle showed between his eyes for a moment; he stood looking down--inthought. 

"Well, well, that thousand dozen battens ought to do it, and leavesomething over, " he said suddenly. "Water? It would have to be laid on tothe outbuildings as well. A whole system of pipes. "

"There'd be no rock-work though, no blasting. "

"Eh? Oh, well, we'll see. What was I going to say? Did you have a goodtime down there in the town? Not a big place, but you do see more peoplethere. And the railway brings visitors now and again, no doubt. "

"Aha, " I thought to myself, "he knows well enough what visitor came tostay with Engineer Lassen this summer!" I answered that I did not caremuch for the place--which was perfectly true. 

"No, really?"

He seemed to find something to ponder over in that; he stared straight infront of him, whistling softly to himself. Then he walked away. 

The Captain was in good spirits; he had been more communicative than everbefore; he nodded to me as he went off. Just as of old he was now--quickand determined, taking an interest in his affairs once more, and sober aswater. I felt cheered myself to see him so. He was no wastrel; he had hada spell of foolishness and dissipation, but it needed only his ownresolution to put an end to that. An oar in the water looks broken to theeye, but it is whole. 

 * * * * *

It set in to rain, and I had to stop work on the painting. Nils had beenlucky enough to get in all the hay that was cut; we got to work now on thepotatoes, all hands out in the fields at once, with the women folk fromthe house as well. 

Meanwhile the Captain stayed indoors all alone; it was dull enough; nowand again he would touch the keys of Fruen's piano. He came out once ortwice to where we were at work, and he carried no umbrella, but lethimself get drenched to the skin. 

"Grand weather for the crops!" he would say; or again, "Looks like beingan extra special harvest this year!" But when he went back to the housethere was only himself and loneliness to meet him. "We're better offourselves than he is now, " said Nils. 

So we worked away at the potatoes, and when they were done there were theturnips. And by the time we were through with them the weather began toclear. Ideal weather, all that one could wish for. Nils and I were asproud of it all as if we owned the place. 

And now the haymaking began in earnest: the maids were out, spreading inthe wake of the machine, and Grindhusen was set to work with a scythe inthe corners and awkward parts where the machine could not go. And I gotout my stone-grey paint and set about the house. 

The Captain came up. "What colour's that you've got here?" he asked. 

What could I say to that? I was nervous, I know, but my greatest fear waslest I should not be allowed to paint it grey after all. As it was, Isaid:

"Oh, it's only some . .. I don't know . .. It doesn't matter what we put onfor the first coat. .. . "

That saved me for the time being, at any rate. The Captain said no moreabout it then. 

When I had done the house all grey, and doors and windows white, I wentdown to the summer-house and did that the same. But it turned out horribleto look at; the yellow underneath showed through and made it a ghastlycolour. The flagstaff I took down and painted a clean white. Then I put ina spell of field-work with Nils and was haymaking for some days. Early inAugust it was. 

Now, when I went back to my painting again I had settled in my mind tostart on the house as early as possible, so as to be well on the way withit before the Captain was up--too far, if I could manage it, to go back! Istarted at three in the morning; there was a heavy dew, and I had to rubthe woodwork over with a bit of sack. I worked away for an hour, and thenhad coffee, then on again till eight. I knew the Captain would be gettingup then, so I went off to help Nils for an hour and be out of the way. Ihad done as much as I wanted, and my idea now was to give the Captain timeto get over the shock of my grey, in case he should have got up in anirritable mood. 

After breakfast I went back to work, and stood there on my ladder paintingaway, as innocently as could be, when the Captain came up. 

"Are you doing it over with grey again?" he called up. 

"_Godmorgen_! Yes. I don't know if. .. . "

"Now what's the meaning of all this? Come down off that ladder at once!"

I clambered down. But I was not anxious now. I had thought out somethingto say that I fancied would prove effective at the right moment--unless myjudgment was altogether at fault. 

I tried first of all to make out it didn't matter really what colour weused for the second time either, but the Captain cut me short here andsaid:

"Nonsense! Yellow on top of that grey will look like mud; you can see thatfor yourself, surely. "

"Well, then, we might give it two coats of yellow, " I suggested. 

"Four coats of paint? No, thank you! And all that white you've beenwasting! It's ever so much dearer than the yellow. "

This was perfectly true, and the very argument I had been fearing allalong. I answered now straight-forwardly:

"Let me paint it grey. "

"What?"

"It would look better. There's something about the house . .. And with thegreen of the woods behind . .. The style of the place is. .. . "

"Is grey, you mean?" He swung off impatiently a few steps and came backagain. 

And then I faced him, more innocently than ever, with an inspirationsurely sent from above:

"Now I remember! Yes. .. . I've always seen it grey in my mind, ever sinceone day--it was Fruen that said so. .. . "

I was watching him closely; he gave a great start and stared at mewide-eyed for a moment; then he took out his handkerchief and beganfidgeting with it at one eye as if to get out a speck or something. 

"Indeed!" he said. "Did she say so?"

"Yes, I'm almost sure it was that. It's a long time back now, but. .. . "

"Oh, nonsense!" he broke out abruptly, and strode away. I heard himclearing his throat--hard--as he crossed the courtyard behind. 

I stood there limply for a while, feeling anything but comfortable myself. I dared not go on with the painting now, and risk making him angry again. I went round to the back and put in an hour cutting firewood. When I cameround again, the Captain looked out from an open window upstairs andcalled down:

"You may as well go on with it now you've got so far. I don't know whatpossessed you, I'm sure. But get on with it now. "

The window had been open before, but he slammed it to and I went on withthe work. 

A week passed. I spent my time between painting and haymaking. Grindhusenwas good enough at hoeing potatoes and using a rake here and there, butnot of much account when it came to loading hay. Nils himself was afirst-rate hand, and a glutton for work. 

I gave the house a third coat, and the delicate grey, picked out withwhite, made the place look nobler altogether. One afternoon I was at work, the Captain came walking up from the road. He watched me for a bit, thentook out his handkerchief as if the heat troubled him, and said:

"Yes, better go on with it now you've got so far. I must say she wasn'tfar wrong about the colour. All nonsense though, really! H'm!"

I made no answer. The Captain used his handkerchief again and said:

"Hot again today--puh! What was I going to say? . .. Yes, it doesn't lookso bad after all. No, she was right--that is, I mean, you were right aboutthe colour. I was looking at it from down there just now, and it makesquite a handsome place. And anyhow, it's too late to alter it now. "

"I thought so too, " I said. "It suits the house. "

"Yes, yes, it suits the house, as it were. And what was it she said aboutthe woods behind--my wife, I mean? The background, or something?"

"It's a long time ago now, but I'm almost sure. .. . "

"Yes, yes, never mind. I must say I never thought it would turn out likethat--turn out so well. Will you have enough white, though, to finish?"

"Well . .. Yes, I sent back the yellow and got some white instead. "

The Captain smiled, shook his head, and walked away. So I had been rightafter all!

Haymaking took up all my time now till it was done, but Nils lent me ahand in return, painting at the summer-house in the evening. EvenGrindhusen joined in and took a brush. He wasn't much of a painter, hesaid, but he reckoned he could be trusted to paint a bit of a wall. Grindhusen was picking up fast. 

At last the buildings were finished; hardly recognizable, they were, intheir new finery. And when we'd cleaned up a bit in the shrubbery and thelittle park--this was our own idea--the whole place looked differentaltogether. And the Captain thanked us specially for what we'd done. 

We started on the rye then, and at the same time the autumn rain set in;but we worked away all we knew, and there came a spell of sunshine inbetween whiles. There were big fields of thick, heavy rye, and big fieldsagain of oats and barley, not yet ripe. It was a rich landscape to workin. The clover was seeding, but the turnips were somewhat behindhand. Agood soaking would put them right, said Nils. 

The Captain sent me up to the post from time to time; once he gave me aletter for his wife. A whole bundle of letters there were, to differentpeople, and hers in the middle. It was addressed care of her mother inKristianssand. When I came back in the evening and took in the incomingpost, the Captain's first words were: "You posted the letters all right?"

"Yes, " I said. 

Time went on. On wet days, when there was little we could do out of doors, the Captain wanted me to paint a bit here and there about the houseinside. He showed me some fine enamels he had got in, and said:

"Now here's the staircase to begin with. I want that white, and I'veordered a dark red stair-carpet to put down. Then there'll be doors andwindows. But I want all this done as soon as possible really; it's beenleft too long as it is. "

I quite agreed that this was a good idea of the Captain's. He had livedcarelessly enough for years past now, never troubling about the look ofhis house; now he had begun to take an interest in it again; it was a sortof reawakening. He took me over the place, upstairs and down, and showedme what was to be done. I noticed the pictures and sculpture in the rooms;there was a big marble lion, and paintings by Askevold and the famousDahl. Heirlooms, I supposed they would be. Fruen's room upstairs lookedjust as if she were at home, with all sorts of little trifles neatly intheir places, and clothes hanging still on the pegs. It was a fine oldhouse, with moulded ceilings, and some of the walls done in costly style, but the paint-work everywhere was faded or flaking off. The staircase wasbroad and easy, with seats, and a mahogany handrail. 

I was painting indoors one day when the Captain came in. 

"It's harvest-time, I know, but this indoor work's important too. My wifewill be back soon. I don't know what we're to do, really! I'd like to havethe place thoroughly cleaned up. "

So that letter was asking her to come back! I thought to myself. But then, again, it was some days since he had written, and I had been to the postseveral times myself, after, but no answer had come. I knew Fruen'swriting. I had seen it six years before. But the Captain thought perhapsthat he had only to say "Come, " and she would obey. Well, well, he mightbe right; she was taking a little time to get ready, that was all. .. . Howwas I to know?

The painting had grown so important now, that the Captain went up himselfto the clearing and got Lars to come down and help with the field-work inmy place. Nils was by no means pleased with the exchange, for Lars was notover willing under orders on the place where he had been in charge himselfin days gone by. 

But there was no such need of hurry about the painting, as it turned out. The Captain sent the lad up twice to the post, but I watched for him onthe way back both times, and found he had no letter from Fruen. Perhapsshe was not coming after all! Ay, it might be as bad as that. Or she feltherself in a false position, and was too proud to say yes because herhusband called. It might be that. 

But the paint was on and had time to dry; the red stair-carpet came andwas laid down with brass rods; the staircase looked wonderfully fine;wonderfully fine, too, were the doors and windows in the rooms upstairs. But Fruen did not come--no. 

We got through with the rye, and set to work in good time on the barley;but Fruen did not come. The Captain went out and gazed down the road, whistling to himself; he was looking thinner now. Often and often he wouldcome out to where we were at work, and keep with us, looking on all thetime without a word. But if Nils happened to ask him anything, he did notstart as if his thoughts had been elsewhere, but was quick and ready ascould be. He did not seem dejected, and as for looking thin, that wasperhaps because he had got Nils to cut his hair. 

Then I was sent up to the post again, and this time there was a letter. Fruen's hand, and postmarked Kristianssand. I hurried back, laid theletter in among the rest of the post, and handed the whole bundle to theCaptain outside the house. He took it with a careless word of thanks, showing no eagerness to see what there was; he was used to beingdisappointed. 

"Corn coming in everywhere, I suppose?" he asked casually, glancing at theletters one after another. "What was the road like? All right?" While Iwas telling him, he came upon Fruen's letter, and at once packing up thewhole bundle together, he turned to me with a sudden intensified interestin other people's crops and the state of the roads. Keeping himself wellin hand; he was not going to show feeling openly. He nodded as he walkedoff, and said "Thank you" once more. 

Next day the Captain came out and washed and greased the carriage himself. But it was two days more before he used it. We were sitting at supper oneevening when the Captain came into the kitchen and said he wanted some oneto drive him to the station tomorrow. He could have driven himself, but hewas going to fetch his wife, who was coming home from abroad, and he wouldhave to take the landau in case it rained. Nils decided, then, thatGrindhusen had better drive, he being the one who could best be spared. 

The rest of us went on with our field-work while they were away. There wasplenty to do; besides the rye and barley not yet in, there were stillpotatoes to hoe and turnips to see to. But Ragnhild and the dairymaid bothlent a hand; all youth and energy they were. 

It might have been pleasant enough to work side by side with my old mateLars Falkenberg once more, but he and Nils could not get on together, andinstead of cheerful comradeship, a gloomy silence hung over the fields. Lars seemed to have got over his late ill-will towards me in some degree, but he was short and sullen with us all on account of Nils. 

At last Nils decided that Lars should take the pair of chestnuts and getto work on the autumn ploughing. Lars was offended, and said crossly: No. He'd never heard of doing things that way before, he said, starting toplough your land before you'd got the harvest off it. "That may be, " saidNils, "but I'll find you land that has been reaped enough to keep yougoing. "

There were more words over that. Lars found everything all wrong somehowat Øvrebø. In the old days he used to do his work and sing songs after forthe company at the house; now, it was all a mess and a muddle, and nosense in any way of doing things. Ploughing, indeed! Not if he knew it. 

"You don't know what you're talking about, " said Nils. "Nowadays you'llsee folk ploughing between the corn-poles and the hay-frames. "

"I've not seen it yet, " said Lars. "But it seems you've seen a lot. Of allthe silly goats. .. . "

But the end of it was that Lars gave way, Nils being head man there, andwent on ploughing till the Captain came home. 

It crossed my mind that I had left some washing behind with Emma when Iwent away, before. But I judged it best not to go up to the clearing afterit now, while Lars was in his present mood. 

X

The Captain and his wife came next day. Nils and I had talked over whetherto hoist the flag; I dared not myself, but Nils was less cautious, andsaid we must. So there it was, flapping broad and free from its whitestaff. 

I was close at hand when the carriage drove up and they got out. Fruenwalked out far across the courtyard, looked at the house, and clapped herhands. I heard her, too, loud in wonder as she entered the hall--at sightof the stairs, no doubt, and the new red carpet. 

Grindhusen had no sooner got the horses in than he came up to me, allagape with astonishment over something, and drew me aside to talk. 

"There must be something wrong, " he said. That's not Fru Falkenberg, surely? Is she married to him--the Captain, I mean?"

"Why, yes, Grindhusen, the Captain's wife is married to the Captain. Whatmakes you ask?"

"But it's that cousin girl! I'll stake my life on it if it's not the verysame one. The Inspector's cousin that was there. "

"Not a bit of it, Grindhusen. But it might be her sister. "

"But I'll stake my life on it. I saw her with him myself I don't know howmany times. "

"Well, well, she may be his cousin as far as that goes, but what's it todo with us?"

"I saw it the moment she got out of the train. And she looked at me, too, and gave a start. I could see her breathing quickly after. Don't cometelling me. .. . But I can't make out. .. . Is she from here?"

"Was Fruen pleased, or did she look unhappy?" I asked. 

"Nay, I don't know. Yes, I think she was. " Grindhusen shook his head, still marvelling how this could be the Captain's wife. "You must have seenher with the Inspector yourself, " he said. "Didn't you recognize heragain?"

"Was she pleased, did you say?"

"Pleased? Why, yes, I suppose so. I don't know. They talked such a lot ofqueer stuff the pair of them, driving home--began at the station, theminute she got out. There was a whole lot I couldn't make out at all. 'Idon't know what to say, ' said she, 'but I beg you so earnestly to forgiveme for it all. ' 'And so do I, ' says he. Now did you ever hear such athing? And they were both of them crying, I believe, in the carriageafter. 'I've had the place painted and done up a bit, ' said the Captain. 'Have you?' says she. And then he went on talking about all her things, and how they were still there and never been touched. I don't know whatthings he meant, but he thought she'd find everything still in its place, he said. Did you ever hear the like? 'All your things, ' he said. And thenhe went on about somebody Elisabet, and said he never gave her a thought, and never had, I think he said. And she cried like anything at that, andwas all upset. But she didn't say a word about being abroad, as theCaptain said. No, I'll stake my life she'd come from the Inspector. "

I began to fear I had made a grave mistake in bringing Grindhusen toØvrebø. It was done now, but I wished it undone. And I told Grindhusenhimself as much, and that pretty plainly. 

"Fruen here's the mistress of the place, and good and kind as could be toevery one, and the Captain as well, remember that. But you'll findyourself whipped out of here, and at once, if you go gossiping and tellingtales. Take my advice and be careful. You've got a good job here, withgood pay and decent food. Think of that, and keep quiet while you'rehere. "

"Yes, yes, you're right, " said Grindhusen meekly enough. "I don't say aword; only, that she's the very image of that cousin down there. And did Iever say more than that? I don't know what you've got to make such a fussabout, and as for that, maybe she's a bit fairer than the cousin. I won'tswear it's the same sort of hair. And I never said it was. But if you wantto know what I thought, I'll tell you straight out. I was thinking she wastoo good to be that cousin girl. That was my very thought. 'Twould be ashame for her to be cousin to a fellow like that, and I can't think howanybody ever could. I'm not thinking about the money now; you know as wellas I do I'm not the man to make a fuss over losing a two-Kroner piece, nomore than you yourself, but it was a mean thing to do, all the same, giving me the money one day and taking it back the next. Ay, that it was. I say no more than that. But I don't know what's the matter with youlately, flying out the least word a man says. And what have I said, anyway? A mean lot, that he was; paid me two Kroner a day and find my ownfood, and always niggling and haggling over every little thing. I've hadenough of your talk anyhow, but I'll tell you what was my very thought, ifyou want to know. .. . "

But all his flow of talk did not avail to hide the fact that he hadrecognized Fruen at once, and was still convinced that he was right. 

 * * * * *

All things in order now, the Captain and Fruen at home, bright days and arich harvest. What more could any wish for?

Fruen greets me with a kindly glance, and says:

"The place looks different altogether after the way you've painted it sonicely. The Captain's ever so pleased. "

She seemed calmer now than when I had seen her last, on the stairs of thehotel in the town. She did not start and breathe quickly at sight of me asshe had with Grindhusen, and that could only mean she was not displeasedat seeing me again! So I thought to myself, and was glad to think so. Butwhy had she not left off that unsteady glance, that flutter of the eyes, she had fallen into of late? If I were the Captain, now, I would speak toher about it. And her complexion, too, was not what it had been. Therewere some curious little spots about the temples. But what matter? She wasno less pretty for that. 

"I'm afraid, though, " she went on, "it wasn't my idea at all with thelovely grey for the house. You must have made a mistake in thinking I saidso. "

"Well, then, I can't make it out. But, anyhow, it's no matter; the Captainhimself decided to have it. "

"The staircase is simply splendid, and so are the rooms upstairs. It'stwice as bright as before. .. . "

'Twas Fruen herself was trying to be twice as bright and

"Why, yes, Grindhusen, the Captain's wife is married twice as good asbefore. " I knew that well enough. And she fancied she owed me these littlemarks of kindliness, for something or other. Well and good, but now it wasenough. Best let it be. 

Autumn drawing on, the scent of the jasmine all importunate down in theshrubbery, and red and yellow showing up long since on the wooded hills. Not a soul in the place but is glad to have Fruen at home again; the flag, too, does its part. 'Tis like a Sunday; the maids have put clean apronson, fresh from the ironing. 

In the evening I went down by the little stone steps to the shrubbery andsat there a while. The jasmines were pouring out waves of perfume afterthe heat of the day. After awhile Nils came down, looking for me. 

"No visitors here now, " says Nils. "And no high goings-on at nights. Haveyou heard anything of that sort at night now, since the Captain first cameback?"

"No. "

"And that's full ten weeks ago now. What d'you say if I tore off thisthing now?" And he pointed to his temperance badge. "Captain's given updrinking, here's Fruen home again, and no call to be unfriendly anyway toeither of them. "

He handed me a knife, and I cut the badge away. 

We talked for a bit about the farm-work--Nils thought of nothing else. "We'll have most of the corn under shelter by tomorrow night, " he says. "And thank goodness for that! Then we'll sow the winter rye. Queer thing, isn't it? Here's Lars went on year after year sowing by machine, andthought it good enough. Not if I know it! We'll sow ours by hand. "

"But why?"

"On land like ours! Now just take the man over there, for instance; hesowed by machine three weeks ago and some's come up and some not. No. Themachine goes too deep in the soil. "

"H'm! Don't the jasmines smell fine tonight?"

"Yes. There's been a big difference with the barley and oats these lastfew days. Getting on time for bed, though, now!"

He got up, but I did not move. "Looks like being fine again tomorrow, "says Nils, glancing at the sky. And then he went on about the grass in thegarden; worth cutting, he said it was. 

"You going to stay down here long?" he asked suddenly. 

"Yes, for a bit; why not? Oh, well, perhaps I'd better go up too. "

Nils walked off a few paces, then came back again. 

"Better not stay here any longer, " he said. "Come along up here with me. "

"Think so?" I said, and rose at once. Evidently Nils had something in hismind, and had come down here on purpose to fetch me. 

Had he found me out? But what was there to find out?

Did I know myself what I had gone down to the shrubbery for? I remembernow that I lay face downwards, chewing a stalk of grass. There was lightin a certain upstairs window of the house. I was looking at that. And thatwas all. 

"Not being inquisitive now, but what's the matter?" I asked. 

"Nothing, " said Nils. "The girls said you were down here, so I just camealong. Why, what else?"

So the maids had found me out, I thought to myself, and was ill pleased atthe thought. Ragnhild it must be, a devil of a girl, sharp as a needle;she must have said a lot more than Nils was willing to confess. And whatif Fruen herself had seen me from the window!

I resolved now to be cold and indifferent as ice henceforward all the daysof my life. 

 * * * * *

Ragnhild is properly in clover. The thick stair carpet muffles every step;she can run upstairs whenever she pleases and slip down again in a momentwithout a sound. 

"I can't make it out about Fruen, " says Ragnhild. 

"Here she's come back, and ought to be happy and good tempered as couldbe, and instead she's all tears and frowning. I heard the Captain tellingher today: 'Now do be a little reasonable, Lovise, ' he said. 'I'm sorry, Iwon't do it any more, ' says Fruen; and then she cried because she'd beenunreasonable. But that about never doing it any more--she's said that nowevery day since she came back, but she's done it again, all the same. Poordear, she'd a toothache today; she was simply crying out with thepain. .. . "

"Go and get on with the potatoes, Ragnhild, " said Nils quickly. "We've notime for gossiping now. "

We'd all of us our field-work now; there was much to be done. Nils wasafraid the corn would spoil if he left it too long at the poles; better toget it in as it was. Well and good; but that meant threshing the worst ofit at once, and spreading the grain over the floor of every shed andouthouse. Even in our own big living-room there was a large layer of corndrying on the floor. Any more irons in the fire? Ay, indeed, and all thewhile hot and waiting. Bad weather has set in, and all the work ought tobe done at once. When we've finished threshing, there's the fresh straw tobe cut up and salted down in bins to keep it from rotting. That all? Notby a long way: irons enough still glowing hot. Grindhusen and the maidsare pulling potatoes. Nils snatches the precious time after a couple ofdry days to sow a patch of rye and send the lad over it with the harrow. Lars Falkenberg is still ploughing; he has given way altogether and turnedout a fine ploughman since the Captain and Fruen came back. When thecorn-land's too soft he ploughs the meadows; then, when sun and wind havedried things a bit, he goes on to the corn-land again. 

The work goes on steadily and well; in the afternoon the Captain himselfcomes out to lend a hand. The last load of corn in being brought in. 

Captain Falkenberg is no child at the work, big and strong he is, and withthe right knack of it. See him loading up oats from the drying-frames: hissecond load now. 

Just then Fruen comes along down the road, and crosses over to where weare at work. Her eyes are bright. She seems pleased to watch her husbandloading up corn. 

"_Signe Arbejdet!_" [Footnote: "A blessing on the work. "] she says. 

"Thanks, " says the Captain. 

"That's what we used to say in Nordland. "

"What?"

"That's what we used to say in Nordland. "

"Oh yes. "

The Captain is busy with his work, and in the rustle of the straw he doesnot always hear what she says, but has to look up and ask again, and thisannoys them both. 

"Are the oats ripe?" she asks. 

"Yes, thank goodness!"

"But not dry, I suppose?"

"Eh? I can't hear what you say. "

"Oh, I didn't say anything. "

A long, uncomfortable silence after that. The Captain tries once or twicewith a good-humoured word, but gets no answer. 

"So you're out on a round of inspection, " he says jestingly. "Have youseen how the potatoes are getting on?"

"No, " she answers. "But I'll go over there, by all means, if you can'tbear the sight of me here. "

It was too dreadful to hear them going on like this. I must have frownedunconsciously--shown some such feeling. Then, suddenly remembering thatfor certain reasons I was to be cold as ice, I frowned the more. 

Freun looked straight at me and said:

"What are you scowling at?"

"Scowling, eh?" says the Captain, joining in, with a forced laugh. 

Fruen takes him up on the instant. 

"Ah! you managed to hear that time!"

"Really, Lovise. .. . "

Fruen's eyes dimmed suddenly; she stood a moment then ran, stoopingforward, round behind the frames, and sobbed. 

The Captain went over to her. "What is it, Lovise, tell me?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing! Go away. "

She was sick; we could hear it. And moaning and saying: "Heaven help me!"

"My wife's not very well just now, " says the Captain to me. "We can't makeout what it is. "

"There's sickness in the neighbourhood, " I suggested, for something tosay. "Sort of autumn fever. I heard about it up at the post office. "

"Is there, though? Why, there you are, Lovise, " he calls out. "There'ssome sort of fever about, it seems. That's all it is. "

Fruen made no answer. 

We went on loading up, and Fruen moved farther and farther away as we cameup. At last the frames were cleared, and she stood there guiltily, verypale after her trouble. 

"Shall I see you back to the house?" asked the Captain. 

"No, thank you, I'd rather not, " she answered, walking away. 

The Captain stayed out and worked with us till evening. 

 * * * * *

So here was everything gone wrong again. Oh, but it was hard for themboth!

And it was not just a little matter that could be got over by a littlegive and take on either side, as folk say; no, it was a thing insuperable, a trouble rooted deep. And now it had come to mutiny, no less: Fruen hadtaken to locking her door at night. Ragnhild had heard the Captain, highlyoffended, talking to her through the wall. 

But that evening the Captain had demanded to speak with her in her roombefore she went to bed. Fruen agreed, and there was a further scene. Eachwas willing and anxious, no doubt, to set matters right, but it washopeless now; it was too late. We sat in the kitchen, Nils and I, listening to Ragnhild's story. I had never seen Nils look so miserablebefore. 

"If things go wrong again now, it's all over, " he said. "I thought tomyself last summer that perhaps a good, sound thrashing would do her good. But that was just foolishness, I can see now. Did she talk about runningaway again?"

"She said something about it, " answered Ragnhild. And then she went onsomething like this: "It began with the Captain asking if she didn't thinkit was this local sickness she had got. Fruen answered it could hardly beany local sickness that had turned her against him so. 'Turned you againstme?' 'Yes. Oh, I could scream sometimes. At table, for instance, the wayyou eat and eat. .. . ' 'Do I?' says the Captain. 'Well, I can't see there'sanything very wrong in that; it's just natural. There's no rule for howmuch one ought to eat at a meal. ' 'But to have to sit and look at you--itmakes me sick. It's that that makes me ill. ' 'Well, anyhow, you can't sayI drink too much now, ' said he. 'So it's better than it was. ' 'No, indeed, it's worse!' Then says the Captain: 'Well, really, I do think you mightmake allowances for me a little, after I've--I mean, considering what youdid yourself this summer. ' 'Yes, you're right, ' says Fruen, beginning tocry. 'If you knew how it hurts and plagues me night and day, thinking ofthat. .. . But I've never said a word. ' 'No, I know, ' says she, crying allthe more. 'And I asked you myself to come back, ' he said. But at that sheseemed to think he was taking too much credit to himself; she stoppedcrying, and answered, with a toss of her head: 'Yes, and it would havebeen better if you'd never asked me back, if it was only to go on likethis. ' 'Like what?' says he. 'You've your own way in everything now. Thesame as before, only you don't care for anything at all. You never touchthe piano, even; only go about cross and irritable all the time; there'sno pleasing you with anything. And you shut your door at night and lock meout. Well and good; lock me out if you like!' 'It's you that are hard toplease, if you ask me, ' she said. 'There's never a night and never amorning but I'm worried out of my life lest you shall be thinking of--thissummer. You've never said a word about it, you say. Oh, don't you, though!I'm never left long in peace without you throwing it in my teeth. Ihappened to say "Hugo" one day, by a slip of the tongue, and what did youdo? You might have been nice and comforted me to help me over it, but youonly scowled and said you were not Hugo. No. I knew well enough, and I wasever so sorry to have said it. ' 'That's just the point, ' said the Captain. 'Were you really sorry?' 'Yes, indeed, ' said Fruen; 'it hurt me ever so. ''Well, I shouldn't have thought it; you don't seem very upset about it. ''Ah, but what about you? Haven't you anything to be sorry for?' 'You'vegot photos of Hugo on your piano still; I haven't seen you move them awayyet, though I've shown you not once but fifty times I wished you to--yes, and begged you to do it. ' 'Oh, what a fuss you make about those photos!'said she. 'Oh, don't make any mistake! I'm not asking you now. If you wentand shifted them now, it would make no difference. I've begged and prayedof you fifty times before. Only, I think it would have been a little moredecent if you'd burned them the day you came home. But, instead of that, you've books here lying about in your room with his name in. And there's ahandkerchief with his initials on, I see. ' 'Oh, it's all your jealousy, 'answered Fruen. 'I can't see what difference it makes. I can't kill him, as you'd like me to, and Papa and Mama say the same. After all, I've livedwith him and been married to him. ' 'Married to him?' 'Yes, that's what Isay. It isn't every one that looks at Hugo and me the way you do. ' TheCaptain sat a while, shaking his head. 'And it's all your own fault, really, ' Fruen went on, 'the way you drove off with Elisabet that time, though I came and asked you not to go. It was then it happened. And we'dbeen drinking that evening. I didn't quite know what I was doing. ' Still, the Captain said nothing for a while; then at last he said: 'Yes, I oughtnot to have gone off like that. ' 'No, but you did, ' said Fruen, andstarted crying again. 'You wouldn't hear a word. And you're alwaysthrowing it in my teeth about Hugo, but you never think of what you'vedone yourself. ' 'There's just this difference, ' says the Captain, 'thatI've never lived with the lady you mention, never been married to her, asyou call it. ' Fruen gave a little scornful laugh. 'Never!' said theCaptain, striking the table with his hand. Fruen gave a start, and satstaring at him. 'Then--I don't understand why you were always runningafter her and sitting out in the summer-house and lurking in corners, 'said she. 'It was you that sat out in the summer-house, ' he answered. 'Ohyes, it's always me, ' said she. 'Never you by any chance!' 'As for myrunning after Elisabet, ' said the Captain, 'it was solely and simply inthe hopes of getting you back. You'd drifted away from me, and I wantedyou. ' Fruen sat thinking over that for a minute, then she sprang up andthrew her arms around him and said: 'Oh, then you cared for me all thetime! And I thought it was all over. You'd drifted away from me, too; itwas years since. And it all seemed so hopeless. I never thought--I neverknew. .. . And then it was me you cared for all the time! Oh, my dear, thenit's all come right again. ' 'Sit down, ' said he. 'You seem to forget thatsomething else has happened since. ' 'Something else?' 'There you are, you've forgotten all about it. May I ask you, are you sorry enough forwhat's happened since?' At that Fruen turned hard again and said: 'Oh, youmean about Hugo? That's done and can't be altered. ' 'That doesn't answerthe question. ' 'If I'm sorry enough? What about you; are you so innocentyourself?' At this the Captain got up and began walking up and down. 'Thetrouble is that we've no children, ' said Fruen. 'I haven't a daughter thatI could teach and bring up to be better than I am, ' 'I've thought ofthat, ' said the Captain, 'perhaps you're right. ' Then he turned straighttowards her and said: 'It's a nasty crash that's come over us, Lovise--like a landslide. But don't you think now we might set to work and shiftaway all the wreckage that's been burying us for years, and get clear andbreathe again? You might have a daughter yet!' At that Fruen got up andmade as if to say something, but couldn't. 'Yes, ' was all she said, and'Yes, ' she said again. 'You're tired and nervous, I know, ' he said. 'Butthink a little over what I've said. Another time. ' 'Good-night, ' saidshe. "

XI

The Captain spoke to Nils about the timber; he thought of disposing of thewhole lot, or selling it standing. Nils took this to mean that he didn'tlike the idea of having more new folk about the place. "It looks likethings are as bad as ever with him and Fruen, " said Nils. 

We are getting in the potatoes now, and since we are thus far there isless hurry and anxiety about the work. But there is still much to be done. The ploughing is behindhand, and Lars Falkenberg and I are both at it, field and meadow land. 

Nils, queer creature that he was, began to find things intolerable atØvrebø again, and talked of throwing up his place and going offaltogether. But he couldn't bear the disgrace of leaving his service likethat. Nils had his own clear notions of honour, handed down through manygenerations. A young man from a big farm could not behave like a lad froma cottar's holding. And then he hadn't been here long enough yet; Øvrebøhad been sadly ill-managed before he came: it would take some years tobring it round again. It was only this year, when he'd had more help withthe work, that he'd been able to do anything properly. But from now onwardhe might begin to look for some result of his work; look at this year'sharvest, the fine heavy grain! The Captain, too, had looked at the cropswith wonder and thankfulness--the first time for many years. There wouldbe plenty to sell. 

All things considered, then, it was senseless for Nils to think of leavingØvrebø. But he must go home for a couple of days to his people--they liveda little way north of us. So he gave himself two days' leave as soon asthe potatoes were all out of the ground. No doubt he'd good reason forgoing--perhaps to see his sweetheart, we thought--and when he came back hewas bright and full of energy as ever, and took up work again at once. 

We were sitting at dinner in the kitchen one day when out comes Fruen fromthe front door of the house, and goes tearing down the road, all wild andexcited. Then the Captain came out, calling after her: "Lovise, what isit, Lovise? Where are you going?" But Fruen only called back: "Leave mealone!"

We looked at one another. Ragnhild rose from the table; she must go afterher mistress, she said. 

"That's right, " said Nils, calm as ever. "But go indoors first and see ifshe's moved those photographs. "

"They're still there, " said Ragnhild as she went out. 

Outside, we heard the Captain telling her to go and look after hermistress. 

There was no one but took thought for Fruen in her distress. 

We went out to the fields again. Said Nils to me:

"She ought to take away those photos; it's not right of her to leave themthere. I don't know what she can be thinking of to do it. "

What do you know about it? I thought to myself. Oh, I was so clever withmy knowledge of the world, and all I'd learned on my wanderings, I thoughtI would try him now; perhaps he was only showing off. 

"I can't understand why the Captain hasn't taken and burnt them long ago, "said I. 

"No, that's all wrong, " said Nils. "I wouldn't have done that either. "

"Oh, indeed!"

"It wouldn't be for me to do it, but for her. "

We walked on a little. And then Nils said a thing that showed his soundand right instinct. 

"Poor lady!" he said. "She's not got over that slip of hers this summer;it's troubling her still. From all I can see, there's some people pick upagain all right after a fall, and go on through life with no more than themark of a bruise. But there's some that never get over it. "

"Fruen seems to be taking it easy enough, " said I, still trying him. 

"How can we tell? She's been unlike herself, to my mind, ever since she'sbeen back, " he answered. "She's got to live, of course, but she's lost allharmony, perhaps. I don't know much about it, but harmony, that's what Imean. Oh yes, she can eat and laugh and sleep, no doubt, but . .. Ifollowed one such to the grave, but now. .. . "

And at that I was no longer cold and wise, but foolish and ashamed, andonly said:

"So it was that? She died, then?"

"Yes. She wished it so, " said Nils. And then suddenly: "Well, you and Larsget on with the ploughing. We ought soon to be through with things now. "

And we went each our separate way. 

I thought to myself: a sister of his, perhaps, that had gone wrong, andhe'd been home and followed her to the grave. _Herregud!_ there aresome that never get over it; it shakes them to their foundations; arevolution. All depends on whether they're coarse enough. Only the mark ofa bruise, said Nils. A sudden thought came to me, and I stopped: perhapsit was not his sister, but his sweetheart. 

Some association of ideas led me to think of my washing. I decided to sendthe lad up for it. 

 * * * * *

It was evening. 

Ragnhild came to me and begged me to keep awake again; there was dreadfultrouble up at the house. Ragnhild herself was greatly upset, and dared notsit anywhere now in the half-dark but upon my knees. It was always so withher; emotion made her frightened and tender--frightened and tender, yes. 

"But can you be away like this? Is there any one in your place in thekitchen?" I asked. 

"Yes. Cook's going to listen for the bell. You know, I side with theCaptain, " she declared. "I've sided with him all along. "

"Oh, that's only because he's a man. "

"No, it's not. "

"You'd much better side with Fruen. "

"You only say that because she's a woman, " answered Ragnhild in her turn. "But you don't know all I do. Fruen's so unreasonable. We didn't care abit about her, she said, and left her all to herself, whatever mighthappen. Did you ever hear such a thing, when I'd just gone after her. Andthen there's another dreadful thing. .. . "

"I don't want to hear any more, " I said. 

"But I haven't been listening outside--what are you thinking of? I wasthere in the same room, and heard them. "

"Did you? Well, well, stay here till you've calmed down a little; thenwe'll go and find Nils. "

And so frightened and tender was Ragnhild that she threw her arms round mebecause I was kind to her. A strange girl!

Then we went down to Nils. 

"Ragnhild thinks that somebody ought to keep awake for a bit, " I said. 

"Yes, " said Ragnhild. "Oh, it's so dreadful--worse than ever it's been!Heaven knows what the Captain'll do! Perhaps he won't go to bed at all. Oh, she's fond of him and he's fond of her, too; only, everything's allwrong! When she went running off like that today, the Captain was standingoutside the house, and said to me: 'Go and look after your mistress, Ragnhild, ' and I went after her, and there she was, standing behind a treedown the road, and she just stood there, crying, and smiled at me. I triedto get her to come in again, but she said we didn't care about her; itdidn't matter where she went. 'The Captain sent me after you, ' said I. 'Did he, though?' she asked. 'Now? Was it just now?' 'Yes, ' said I. 'Wait, then, ' she said, and stood quite a while. 'Take those hateful booksthat are lying in my room and burn them, ' she said; and then: 'Oh no, I'lldo it myself, but I'll ring for you after supper, and then you must comeup at once. ' 'I will, ' said I, and then I got her to come in. "

"And you know, " said Ragnhild suddenly, "she's going to have a child. "

We looked at one another. Nils' face grew, as it were, veiled beneath afilm of something indistinct. All expression faded, the eyes asleep. Butwhy should it affect him so? For the sake of saying something, I turned toRagnhild and asked:

"Fruen was going to ring for you, you said?"

"Yes, and so she did. There was something she wanted to tell the Captain, but she was afraid, and wanted to have me there. 'Light a candle and pickup all this host of buttons I've upset, ' she said. And then she called outto the Captain in his room. I lit the candle and began picking up buttons;dozens of them there were, all sorts. The Captain came in. 'I only wantedto tell you, ' says Fruen at once, 'that it was kind of you to sendRagnhild after me to-day. Heaven bless you for that!' 'Never mind aboutthat, my dear, ' says he. 'You were nervous, you know. ' 'Yes, I'm allnerves just now, ' she answered, 'but I hope it'll get better in time. No, the trouble is that I haven't a daughter I could bring up to be reallygood. There's nothing I can do!' The Captain sat down on a chair. 'Oh yes, there is, ' he said. 'Yes, you say? Oh, I know it says in that bookthere. .. . Oh, those hateful books!--Ragnhild take them away and burnthem, ' she says. 'No, wait, I'll tear them to bits now myself and put themin the stove here. ' And then she started pulling them to pieces, takingever so many pages at a time and throwing them in the stove. 'Don't be soexcited, Lovise, ' said the Captain. _'The Nunnery, '_ she said--thatwas one of the books. 'But I can't go into a nunnery. There's nothing Ican do. When I laugh, you think I'm laughing, ' she said to the Captain, 'but I'm miserable all the time and not laughing a bit. ' 'Is yourtoothache any better?' he asked. 'Oh, that toothache won't be better for along time to come!' she said; 'you know that well enough. ' 'No, indeed, Idon't. ' 'You don't know?' 'No. ' 'But, heavens! can't you see what's thematter with me?' said Fruen. The Captain only looked at her and did notanswer. 'I'm--oh, you said today I might have a daughter after all, don'tyou remember?' I happened to look up at the Captain just then. .. . "

Ragnhild smiled and shook her head; then she went on:

"Heaven forgive me for smiling, but the Captain's face was so queer; hestood there like a sheep. 'Didn't you guess as much before?' asked Fruen. The Captain looked over at me and said: 'What's that you're doing thereall this time?' 'I asked her to pick up those buttons for me, ' said Fruen. 'I've finished now, ' said I. 'Have you?' said Fruen, getting up. 'Let mesee. ' And she took the box and dropped them again all over the floor. Oh, they went rolling all over the place, under the table, under the bed andthe stove! 'There, now, did you ever see such a mess?' said Fruen. Butthen she went off again at once talking about herself, and said again:'But I can't understand you didn't you see I was--didn't see what was thematter with me. ' Can't those buttons wait till tomorrow?' said theCaptain. 'Why, yes, perhaps they can, ' said Fruen. 'But then I'll betreading on them everywhere. I can't . .. I'm rather afraid of stoopingjust now. .. . But, never mind, we'll leave them for now, ' she said, andstroked his hand. 'Oh, my dear, my dear!' she says. But he drew his handaway. 'Oh, so you're angry with me!' she said. 'But then, why did youwrite and ask me to come back?' 'My dear Lovise, we're not alone here, ' hesays. 'But surely you must know what made you write?' 'I suppose it wasbecause I hoped things would come right again. ' 'And they didn't?' 'Well, no!' 'But what was in your mind when you wrote? Were you thinking of me?Did you want me again? I can't make out what was in your mind. ''Ragnhild's finished, I see, ' said the Captain. 'Good-night, Ragnhild!'"

"And then you came away?"

"Yes, but I dare not go far because of Fruen. You may be sure it wasn'tnice for her when I was out of the room, so I had to be somewhere at hand. And if the Captain had come and found me and said anything, I'd have toldhim straight out I wasn't going farther away with Fruen in the state shewas. As it happened, he didn't come at all, but they began again in there. 'I know what you're thinking of, ' said Fruen--'that perhaps it's not . .. It wouldn't be your child. Oh yes, indeed it might be so! But, God knows, I can't find words this moment to make you forgive me!' she said, allcrying. 'Oh, my dear, forgive me, forgive me!' said Fruen, and went downon her knees on the floor. 'You've seen what I did with the books, andthat handkerchief with the initials on--I burnt that before, and thebooks, you know. .. . ' 'Yes, and--here's another handkerchief with the sameinitials on--' says the Captain. 'Oh, heavens! yes, you're ever soconsiderate, Lovise. ' Fruen was all upset at that. 'I'm sorry you shouldhave seen it, ' she said. 'It must be one I brought back with me when Icame home. I haven't looked through my things properly since. But does itreally matter so very much? Surely--' 'Oh no, ' said he. 'And if you'donly listen to me, ' she went on, I'm almost certain it's you that . .. Imean, that the child is yours. Why should it not be? Oh, I don't know howto say it!' 'Sit down again, ' said the Captain. But Fruen must havemisunderstood; she got up and said: 'There you are! You won't listen tome. Really, I can't make out why you ever wrote to me at all. You mightjust as well have left me alone. ' Then the Captain said something aboutbeing in prison; if a man grew up in a prison yard, he said, and you takehim out, he'll long to be back in his prison yard again, he said. It wassomething like that, anyway. 'Yes, but I was with Papa and Mama, and theyweren't hard like you; they said I had been married to him, and weren'tunkind to me at all. It isn't every one that looks at things like you do, ''You don't want that candle alight now Ragnhild's gone, do you?' said theCaptain. 'It looks so out of place to have it burning there beside thelamp--as if it were ashamed. ' 'Ashamed of me, ' she says quickly. 'Oh yes, that was what you meant. But you've been to blame as well. ' 'Don'tmisunderstand me, ' he says. 'I know I've been to blame. But that doesn'tmake your part any better. ' 'Oh, you think not? Well, of all the. .. . Soyours doesn't count, then?' 'Yes, I say I've been to blame, not in the wayyou mean, but in other ways--in old things and new. ' 'Oh, indeed!' 'Yes, but I don't come home bringing the fruits of it under my heart to you. ''No, ' says Fruen, 'but you know it was you all along that wouldn't . .. That didn't want us to have children. And I didn't want it, either, butyou ought to have known better. And they said the same thing at home. Ifonly I'd had a daughter. .. . ' 'Oh, don't let's go over all that again, 'says the Captain--he called it something or other--a romance, I think itwas. 'But it's true, ' says Fruen, 'and I can't think how you can deny it. ''I'm not denying anything. Do sit down, now, Lovise, and listen to me. Allthis about having children, and a daughter to bring up and so on, it'ssomething you've picked up lately. And, you snatched at the idea at once, to save yourself. But you never said a word about wanting childrenbefore--not that I ever heard. ' 'Yes, but you ought to have known better. ''There again, that's something you've heard, something new. But it doesn'tmatter: quite possibly things might have been different if we'd hadchildren. I can see that myself now, but now it's too late, more's thepity. And here you are now--like that. .. . ' 'Oh, heavens, yes! But I tellyou it may be yours after all--I don't know. .. . Oh!. .. ' 'Mine? said theCaptain, shaking his head. 'Well, the mother should be the one to know. But in this case, it seems, she doesn't. The woman I'm married to doesn'tknow--or do you?' But Fruen did not answer. _'Do_ you know? I askyou!' Oh, but again she could not answer, only slipped down to the flooragain and cried. Really, I don't know--but perhaps I'm on her side afterall; it was dreadful for her, poor thing. And then I was just going toknock at the door and go in, but then the Captain went on again. 'Youcan't say it, ' he said. 'But that's an answer in itself, and plainenough. ' 'I can't say more, ' said Fruen. She was still crying. 'I'm fondof you for lots of things, Lovise, ' says the Captain, 'and one of them'sbecause you're truthful. ' 'Thank you, ' she says. 'They haven't taught youto lie as yet. Get up, now. ' And he helped her up himself, and set her inthe chair. But it was pitiful to see her crying so. 'Don't cry, now, ' hesays. 'I want to ask you something. Shall we wait and see what it's likewhen it comes--what sort of eyes it has, and so on?' 'Oh, heaven blessyou, yes, if you would! Oh, my dear, God bless you, God bless you. ' 'AndI'll try to bear with things as they are. It's an aching misery all thetime, but I'll try. And I've been to blame as well. ' 'God bless you, Godbless you!' she said again. 'And you, ' he said. 'And now good-night untiltomorrow. ' Then Fruen leaned down over the table and cried and cried sodreadfully. 'What are you crying for now?' he asked. 'You're going, ' shesaid. 'Oh, I was afraid of you before, but now I can't bear to be withoutyou. Couldn't you stay a little?' 'Stay here, with you, now?' he asked. 'Oh no, I didn't mean . .. It wasn't that . .. Only, it's so lonely. Ididn't mean. .. . ' 'No, ' said the Captain. 'You can understand I don't feellike staying any longer now. Ring for the maid!'"

"And then I had to run, " Ragnhild concluded. 

Said Nils, after a while: "Have they gone to bed now?"

Ragnhild could not say. Yes. Perhaps. Anyhow, Cook was there in case. "But, only think of it, how dreadful! I don't suppose Fruen can sleep. "

"You'd better go and see if there's anything you can do. "

"Yes, " said Ragnhild, getting up. "But I side with the Captain after all, and no mistake, whatever you say. Yes, that I do. "

"It's none so easy to know what's right. "

"Only think of letting that engineer creature. .. . How she ever could, Idon't know! And then to go down and stay with him there, after, as shedid; what a thing to do! And she's all those handkerchiefs of his, ever somany, and a lot of her own are gone; I suppose they used each other'sanyhow. Lived with him, she said! And she with a husband of her own!"

XII

The Captain has done as he said about the timber; there's a cracking andcrashing in the woods already. And a mild autumn, too, with no frost inthe ground as yet to stop the ploughing; Nils grasps at the time like amiser, to save as much as possible next spring. 

Now comes the question whether Grindhusen and I are to work on the timber. It crosses my mind that I had intended really to go off for a tramp up inthe hills and over the moors while the berries were there; what about thatjourney now? And another thing, Grindhusen was no longer worth his keep asa wood-cutter; he could hold one end of a saw, but that was about all hewas good for now. 

No, for Grindhusen was changed somehow; devil knows how it had come about. He had not grown bald at all; his hair was there, and thick and red asever. But he had picked up a deal at Øvrebø, and went about bursting withhealth and good feeding; well off here? He had sent good sums of moneyhome to his family all that summer and autumn, and was full of praise forCaptain and Freun, who paid such good wages and treated their folk sowell. Not like the Inspector, that weighed and counted every miserableSkilling, and then, as true as God's in heaven, go and take off two Kronerthat he'd given as clear as could be . .. Ugh! He, Grindhusen, was not theman to make a fuss about a wretched two Kroner, as long as it was a matterof any sense or reason, but to go and take it off like that--_fyFan!_ Would you ever find the Captain doing such a thing?

But Grindhusen was grown so cautious now, and wouldn't even get properlyangry with any one. Even yet, perhaps, he might go back and work for theInspector on the river at two Kroner a day, and humbly agree with all hismaster said. Age, time, had overtaken him. 

It overtakes us all. 

Said the Captain:

"That water-supply you spoke about--is it too late to do anything with itthis year?"

"Yes, " I answered. 

The Captain nodded and walked away. 

I ploughed one day more, then the Captain came to me again. He was out andabout everywhere these days, working hard, keeping an eye on everything. He gave himself barely time for a proper meal, but was out again at once, in the fields, the barn, the cattle-sheds, or up in the woods where themen were at work. 

"You'd better get to work on that water-supply, " he said. "The ground'sworkable still, and may stay so for a long time yet. What help will youwant?"

"Grindhusen can help, " I said. "But. .. . "

"Yes, and Lars. What were you going to say?"

"The frost may set in any day now. "

"Well, and then it may snow and soften the ground again. We're notfrost-bound here every year, " said the Captain. "You'd better take a fewextra hands, and set some of them to digging, the rest to the masonrywork. You've done all this before, I think you said?"

"Yes. "

"And I've spoken to Nils myself, " he said, with a smile. "So you'll haveno trouble in that way. You can put the horses in now. "

So bravely cheerful he was, I could not help feeling the same, and wantedto begin at once; I hurried back with the horses, almost at a run. TheCaptain seemed quite eager about this water-supply, now that the placelooked so nice with its new paint, and after the fine harvest we'd had. And now he was cutting a thousand dozen battens in the woods, to pay offhis debts and leave something over!

So I went off up the rising ground, and found the old place I had markeddown long before for the reservoir, took the depth down to the house, pacing and measuring this way and that. There was a streamlet came downfrom the hillside far above, with such a depth and fall that it neverfroze in winter; the thing would be to build a small stone reservoir here, with openings at the sides for the overflow in autumn and spring. Oh, butthey should have their water-supply at Øvrebø! As for the masonry work, wecould break out our stone on the site itself; there was layer on layer ofgranite there. 

By noon next day we were hard at work, Lars Falkenberg digging the trenchfor the pipe-line, Grindhusen and I getting stone. We were both well usedto this work from the days when we had been road-making together atSkreia. 

Well and good. 

We worked four days; then it was Sunday. I remember that Sunday, the skyclear and far, the leaves all fallen in the woods, and the hillsideshowing only its calm winter green; smoke rose from the chimney up in theclearing. Lars had borrowed a horse and cart that afternoon to drive in tothe station; he had killed a pig and was sending it in to town. He was tofetch letters for the Captain on the way back. 

It occurred to me that this evening would be a good time to send the ladup to the clearing for my washing: Lars was away, and no one could takeoffence at that washing business now. 

Oh yes, I said to myself, you're very careful to do what's right andproper, sending the lad up to fetch that washing. But you'll find it isn'tthat at all. Right and proper, indeed; you're getting old, that's what itis. 

I bore with this reproach for an hour. Then--well, it was all nonsense, like as not, and here was a lovely evening, and Sunday into the bargain, nothing to do, no one to talk to down here. .. . Getting old, was I? Afraidof the walk uphill?

And I went up myself. 

Early next morning Lars Falkenberg came over again. He drew me aside, ashe had done once before, and with the same intent: I had been up to theclearing yesterday, it seemed; it was to be the last time, and would Iplease to make no mistake about that!

"It was the last of my washing, anyhow, " I said. 

"Oh, you and your washing! As if I couldn't have brought along yourmiserable shirt a hundred times since you've been here!"

Now, by what sort of magic had he got to know of my little walk up therealready? Ragnhild, of course, at her old tricks again--it could be no oneelse. There was no doing anything with that girl. 

But now, as it happened, Nils was at hand this time, as he had been thetime before. He came strolling over innocently from the kitchen, and in amoment Lars's anger was turned upon him instead. 

"Here's the other scarecrow coming up, too, " says Lars, "and he's a longsight worse than you. "

"What's that you say?" said Nils. 

"What's that you say!" retorted Lars. "You go home and rinse your mouthwith a mixture or something, and see if you can talk plain, " said he. 

Nils stopped short at this, and came up to see what it was all about. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, " said he. 

"No, of course not. You don't know anything that's any sense. But you knowall about ploughing in standing crops, don't you? There's not many canbeat you at that. "

But here Nils grew angry for once, and his cheeks paled. 

"What an utter fool you are, Lars! Can't you keep your mouth shut withthat nonsense?"

"Fool, eh? Hark at the silly goat!" said Lars, turning to me. "Thinkshimself mighty fine, doesn't he? 'Utter'" he says--and goes white aboutit. "I've been more years than you at Øvrebø, and asked in to sing up atthe house of an evening more than once, let me tell you. But things havechanged since then, and what have we got instead? You remember, " he said, turning to me, "what it was like in the old days. It was Lars here andLars there, and I never heard but the work got done all right. And afterme it was Albert, that was here for eighteen months. But then you, Nils, came along, and now it's toil and moil and ploughing and carting manureday and night, till a man's worn to a thread with it all. "

Nils and I could not help laughing at this. And Lars was in no wayoffended; he seemed quite pleased at having said something funny, and, forgetting his ill-will, joined in the laugh himself. 

"Yes, I say it straight out, " said he. "And if it wasn't for you being afriendly sort between whiles--no, friendly I won't say, but somewaysdecent and to get on with after a fashion . .. If it wasn't for that. .. . "

"Well, what then?"

Lars was getting more and more good humoured. "Oh, " he said, with a laugh, "I could just pick you up and stuff you down in your own long boots. "

"Like to feel my arm?" said Nils. 

"What's going on here?" asked the Captain, coming up. It was only sixo'clock, but he was out and about already. 

"Nothing, " said Lars and Nils as well. 

"How's the reservoir getting on?" asked the Captain. This was to me, butbefore I could answer he turned to Nils. "I shall want the boy to drive meto the station, " he said. "I'm going to Christiania. "

Grindhusen and I went off to our work on the reservoir, and Lars to hisdigging. But a shadow seemed to have fallen over us all. 

Grindhusen himself said openly: "Pity the Captain's going away. "

I thought so, too. But he was obliged to go in on business, no doubt. There were the crops as well as the timber to be sold. But why should hestart at that hour of the day? He couldn't catch the early train in anycase. Had there been trouble again? Was he anxious to be out of the waybefore Fruen got up?

 * * * * *

Trouble there was, often enough. 

It had gone so far by this time that the Captain and Fruen hardly spoke toone another, and whenever they did exchange a word it was in a carelesstone, and looking all the other way. Now and again the Captain would lookhis wife properly in the face, and say she ought to be out more in thelovely air; and once when she was outside he asked if she wouldn't come inand play a little. But this, perhaps, was only to keep up appearances, nomore. 

It was pitiful to see. 

Fruen was quiet and nice. Now and again she would stand outside on thesteps looking out towards the hills; so soft her features were, and herreddish yellow hair. But it was dull for her now--no visitors, no musicand entertaining, nothing but sorrow and shame. 

The Captain had promised to bear with things as they were, and surely hewas bearing all he could. But he could do no more. Disaster had come tothe home, and the best will in the world could not shoulder it off. IfFruen happened to be hasty, as she might now and then, and forgot to begrateful, the Captain would look down at the floor, and it would not belong before he put on his hat and went out. All the maids knew about it, and I had seen it myself once or twice. He never forgot what she haddone--how could he?--though he could keep from speaking of it. But couldhe keep from speaking of it when she forgot herself and said:

"You know I'm not well just now; you know I can't walk far like I usedto!"

"S--sh, Lovise!" he would say, with a frown. And then the mischief wasthere as bad as ever. 

"Oh, of course you must bring that up again!"

"No, indeed! It's you that brought it up yourself. You've lost all senseof modesty, I think; you seem to have no shame left. "

"Oh, I wish I'd never come back at all! I was better off at home!"

"Yes, or living with that puppy, I dare say. "

"You said he'd helped you once yourself. And I often wish I were backthere with him again. Hugo's a great deal better than you are. "

She was all irresponsible in her words, going, perhaps, further than shemeant. But she was changed out of knowledge to us all, and spoiled andshameless now. Fru Falkenberg shameless! Nay, perhaps not; who could say?Yet she was not ashamed to come out in the kitchen of an evening and saynice things to Nils about how young and strong he was. I was jealousagain, no doubt, and envied Nils for his youth, for I thought to myself:Is every one gone mad? Surely we older ones are far to be preferred! Wasit his innocence that attracted her? Or was she merely trying to keep upher spirits a little--trying to be younger than she was? But then one dayshe came up to the reservoir where Grindhusen and I were at work, and satwatching us for a while. It was easy work then for half an hour; thegranite turned pliable, and yielded to our will; we built away likegiants. Oh, but Fruen sat there irresponsible as ever, letting her eyesplay this way and that. Why could she not rid herself of this new habit ofhers? Her eyes were too earnest for such playing; it did not suit her. Ithought to myself, either she was trying to make up for her foolishnesstowards Nils by favouring us in turn, or starting a new game altogether--which would it be? I could not make it out, and as for Grindhusen, he sawnothing in it at all, but only said, when Fruen had gone: "Eh, she's astrange, kind-hearted soul, is Fruen. Almost like a mother. Only fancygoing and feeling if the water wasn't too cold for us!"

One day, when I was standing by the kitchen entrance, she said:

"Do you remember the old days here--when you first came?"

She had never once spoken of this till now, and I did not know what tosay. I stammered out: Yes, I remembered. 

"You drove me down to the Vicarage once, " she said. 

Then I half fancied that perhaps she was not disinclined to talk to me andoccupy her mind a little; I felt I must help her, make it easier for her. And perhaps I was a little touched myself at the thought. 

"Yes, " I said, "I remember. It was a glorious drive. But Fruen must havefound it cold towards the last. "

"It was you that must have felt cold, " she answered. "You lent me your ownrug from the box. Oh, you poor thing!"

I was even more moved at this, and foolish ideas came into my head. Ah, then she had not forgotten me! The few years that had passed since thenhad not made so much difference in me after all!

"Fruen must be mistaken about the rug, I think, " said I. "But I rememberwe stopped at a cottage to eat, and the woman made coffee, and you gave methings yourself. "

As I spoke, I leaned up against the fence, with my arms round a post. Perhaps this somehow offended her, looking as if I expected her to standgossiping there with me. And then I had said, "We stopped at a cottage, "as if we had been equals. It was a bad mistake on my part, of course, butI had got a little out of hand after all these vagabond months. 

I stood up straight again the moment I saw she was displeased, but it wastoo late. She was just as kind as ever, but she had grown suspicious andeasily hurt with all her trouble, and found rudeness in what was merelyawkwardness of mine. 

"Well, well, " she said, "I hope you find yourself as comfortable now atØvrebø as before. "

And she nodded and walked away. 

 * * * * *

Some days passed. The Captain had not come back, but he had sent a postcard, with a kind message, to Fruen: he hoped to be home again next week. He was also sending pipes, taps, and cement for the water supply. 

Fruen showed me that card. "Here, " she said, "the Captain has sent thesethings for your work. You had better get them down from the station. "

We stood there together, looking at the card; mid-day it was, and we werejust outside the house. I can't say how it was, but I was standing therequite close to her, with my head bent in towards hers, and it made me feelhappy all through. When she had finished reading she looked up at me. Noplay of her eyes now; but she must have caught some expression in my face, for she looked at me still. Did she feel my presence as I felt hers? Thosetwo heavy eyes raised towards mine and held there were loaded to the brimwith love. She could not be responsible for her actions now. There was apathological depth in her glance, an influence from far within, from thelife she bore under her heart. Her breath came heavily, her face flusheddark all over, then she swung round and walked slowly away. 

There I stood, with the card in my hand. Had she given it to me? Had Itaken it?

"Your card, " I said. "Shall I. .. . "

She held out her hand without looking round, and walked on. 

This little episode occupied my mind a great deal for some days. Ought Ito have gone after her when she walked away? Oh, I might have tried, mighthave made the attempt--her door was not far off. Pathological? But whathad she brought me the card for at all? She could have told me by word ofmouth what there was to say. I called to mind how six years before we hadstood in just that same way reading a telegram the Captain had sent her. Did she find pleasure in situations of that sort, and go out of her way toseek them?

Next time I saw her there was no trace of any embarassment in her manner--she was kind and cold. So I had to let it drop altogether. And, anyhow, what did I want with her at all? No, indeed!

Some visitors came to see her one day--a neighbour's wife, with herdaughter. They had heard, no doubt, that the Captain was away, and thoughtshe might be glad of a little society; or perhaps they had come out ofcuriosity. They were well received; Fru Falkenberg was amiable as ever, and even played the piano for them. When they left, she went with themdown to the road, talking sensibly of practical affairs, though she mightwell have had other things in her head than coops and killing pigs. Oh, she was full of kindly interest in it all! "Come again soon--or you, atany rate, Sofie. .. . " "Thanks, thanks. But aren't you ever coming over tous at Nedrebø?" "Oh, I? Of course--yes. I'd walk down with you now if itweren't so late. " "Well, tomorrow, then?" "Yes, perhaps I might come overtomorrow. --Oh, is that you?" This was to Ragnhild, who had come down witha shawl. "Oh, what an idea!--did you think I should catch cold?"

Altogether things were looking brighter now at Øvrebø; we no longer feltthat shadow of uneasiness over us all. Grindhusen and I worked away at ourfamous reservoir, and Lars was getting on farther every day with histrench. Seeing the Captain was away, I wanted to make the most of thetime, and perhaps have the work nearly done by the time he came back; itwould be a grand thing if we could get it finished altogether! He would beall the better for a pleasant little surprise, for--yes, there had beensomething of a scene the night before he left. Some new reminder, nodoubt, of the trouble that had come upon his house; a book, perhaps, stillunburnt, lying about in Fruen's room. He had ended up by saying: "Anyhow, I'm cutting timber now to pay it off. And the harvest we've got in means alot of money. So I hope the Lord will forgive me--as I do Him. Good-night, Lovise. "

When we had laid the last stone of the reservoir, and cement over all, Iwent down with Grindhusen to help Lars with the trench--we took a sectioneach. The work went on easily and with a will--here and there a stone hadto be blasted out, or a tree felled up in the woods; but the trench movedsteadily upwards, until we had a long black line from the house to thereservoir itself. Then we went back again and dug it out to the properdepth. This was no ornamental work, but a trench--an underground restingplace for some pipes that were to be buried on the spot. All we wereconcerned with was to get down below the reach of frost, and that beforethe frost itself came to hinder us. Already it was coating the fields atnight. Nils himself left all else now, and came to lend a hand. 

But masonry and digging trenches are but work for the hands; my brain inits idleness was busy all the while with every conceivable idea. As oftenas I thought of that episode with the post card, it sent, as it were, aglow all through me. Why should I think any more about it? No, of coursenot. And I had not followed her to the door after all. 

But there she stood, and you there. Her breath came towards you--a tasteof flesh. Out of a darkness she was, nay, not of earth. And her eyes--didyou mark her eyes?

And each time something in me turned at the thought--a nausea. Ameaningless succession of names poured in upon me, places of wild andtender sound, whence she might be: Uganda, Antananarivo, Honolulu, Venezuela, Atacama. Verse? Colours? I knew not what to do with the words. 

XIII

Fruen has ordered the carriage to drive her to the station. 

No sign of haste in her manner; she gives orders to the cook about packingup some food for the journey, and when Nils asks which carriage he is totake, she thinks for a moment, and decides to take the landau and pair. 

So she went away. Nils himself drove for her. 

They came back the same evening; they had turned back when half-way out. 

Had Fruen forgotten something? She ordered fresh horses, and anotherhamper of food; she was going off again at once. Nils was uneasy, and saidso; it was almost night, they would be driving in the dark; but Fruenrepeated her order. Meantime, she sat indoors and waited; she had notforgotten anything; she did nothing now but sit staring before her. Ragnhild went in and asked if there was anything she could do. No, thankyou. Fruen sat bowed forward as if weighted down by some deadly grief. 

The carriage was ready, and Fruen came out. 

Seeing Nils himself ready to drive again, she took pity on him, and saidshe would have Grindhusen to drive this time. And she sat on the stepstill he came. 

Then they drove off. It was a fine evening, and nice and cool for thehorses. 

"She's past making out now, " said Nils. "I can't think what's come to her. I'd no idea of anything, when suddenly she taps at the window and saysturn back. We were about half-way there. But never a word of starting outagain at once. "

"But she must have forgotten something, surely?"

"Ragnhild says no. She was indoors, and I thought for a moment of thosephotograph things, if she was going to burn them; but they're still there. No, she didn't do a single thing while she was back. "

We walked across the courtyard together. 

"No, " Nils went on, "Fruen's in a bad way; she's lost all harmony foreverything. Where's she going off to now, do you think? Heaven knows; shedoesn't seem to be altogether sure of it herself. When we stopped tobreathe the horses, she said something about being in such a hurry, andhaving to be in different places at once--and then she ought not really tobe away from home at all. 'Best for Fruen not to hurry about anything, ' Isaid, 'but just keep quiet. ' But you know how she is nowadays; there's nosaying a word to her. She just looked at her watch and said go on again. "

"Was this on the way to the station?"

"No, on the way back. She was quite excited, I thought. "

"Perhaps the Captain sent for her?"

Nils shook his head. "No. But perhaps--Lord knows. What was I going tosay--it's--tomorrow's Sunday, isn't it?"

"Yes; what then?"

"Oh, nothing. I was only thinking I'd use the day off to mark out firewoodfor the winter. I've been thinking of that a long while. And it's easiernow than when the snow's about. "

Always thinking of his work, was Nils. He took a pride in it, and wasanxious now, moreover, to show his gratitude for the Captain's havingraised his wages since the harvest. 

It is Sunday. 

I walked up to have a look at the trench and the reservoir; a few moregood days now, and we should have the pipes laid down. I was quite excitedabout it myself, and could hardly wait for tomorrow's working-day to beginagain. The Captain had not interfered in the arrangements, not with asingle word, but left all to me, so that it was no light matter to me ifthe frost came now and upset it all. 

When I got back, there was the landau outside the house--the horses hadbeen taken out. Grindhusen would about have had time to get back, Ithought; but why had he pulled up in front of the steps to the house?

I went into the kitchen. The maids came towards me; Fruen was in thecarriage, they said; 'she had come back once again. She had just been tothe station, but now she was going there again. Could I make out what wasthe matter with her, now?

"Nervous, I expect, " said I. "Where's Nils?"

"Up in the woods. Said he'd be away some time. There's only us here now, and we can't say more to her than we have. "

"And where's Grindhusen?"

"Changing the horses again. And Fruen's sitting there in the carriage andwon't get out. You go and speak to her. "

"Oh, well, there's no great harm in her driving about a bit. Don't worryabout that. "

I went out to the carriage, my heart beating fast. How miserable anddesperate she must be! I opened the carriage door, and asked respectfullyif Fruen would let me drive this time. 

She looked me calmly in the face. "No. What for?" she said. 

"Grindhusen might be a little done up, perhaps--I don't know. .. . "

"He promised to drive, " she said. "And he's not done up. Isn't he nearlyready?"

"I can't see him, " I answered. 

"Shut the door again, and tell him to come, " she commanded, wrappingherself more closely as she spoke. 

I went over to the stables. Grindhusen was harnessing a fresh pair ofhorses. 

"What's all this?" I asked. "Going off again, are you?"

"Yes--that is, I thought so, " said Grindhusen, stopping for a moment as ifin doubt. 

"It looks queer. Where's Fruen going to, do you know?"

"No. She wanted to drive back again last night as soon as we got to thestation, but I told her that it was too much for either of us to driveback then. So she slept at the hotel. But this morning it was home again, if you please. And now she wants to go to the station again, she says. Idon't know, I'm sure. .. . "

Grindhusen goes on harnessing up. 

"Fruen said you were to make haste, " I said. 

"All right, I'm coming. But these girths are the very devil. "

"Aren't you too tired to drive all that way again now?"

"No. You know well enough I can manage it all right. And she's given megood money, too. Extra. "

"Did she, though?"

"Ay, that she did. But she's a queer sort, is Fruen. "

Then said I: "I don't think you ought to go off again now. "

Grindhusen stopped short. "You think so? Well, now, I dare say you'reright. "

Just then came Fruen's voice from outside--she had come right over to thestable door. 

"Aren't you ready yet? How much longer am I to sit waiting?"

"Ready this minute, " answered Grindhusen, and turned to again, busier thanever. "It was only these girths. "

Fruen went back to the carriage. She ran, and the thick fur coat she hadon was too heavy for her, she had to balance with her arms. It was pitifulto see; like a hen trying to escape across the barnyard, and flapping itswings to help. 

I went over to the carriage again, politely, even humbly. I took off mycap, and begged Fruen to give up this new journey. 

"You are not driving me!" she answered. 

"No. But if Fruen would only give it up and stay at home. .. . "

At this she was offended; she stared at me, looked me up and down, andsaid:

"Excuse me, but this is no business of yours. Because I got you dismissedonce. .. . "

"No, no, it's not that!" I cried desperately, and could say no more. Whenshe took it that way I was helpless. 

Just for one moment a wave of fury came over me; I had only to put out myarms and I could lift her out of the carriage altogether, this child, thispitiful hen! My arms must have twitched at the thought, for she gave asudden frightened start, and shifted in her seat. Then all at once thereaction took me; I turned foolish and soft, and tried once more:

"It'll be so dismal for us all here if you go. Do let us try if we can'thit on something between us to pass the time for you! I can read a little, reading aloud, and there's Lars can sing. Perhaps I might tell stories--tell of something or other. Here's Grindhusen coming; won't you let metell him you're not going after all?"

She softened at this, and sat thinking for a little. Then she said:

"You must be making a mistake altogether, I think. I am going to thestation to meet the Captain. He didn't come the first day, or yesterdayeither, but he's sure to come some time. I'm driving over to meet him. "

"Oh!"

"There you are. Now go. Is Grindhusen there?"

It was like a slap in the face for me. She was right; it sounded sonatural--oh, I had made a fool of myself again!

"Yes, here he is, " I answered. There was no more to be said. 

And I put on my cap again, and helped Grindhusen myself with the harness. So confused and shamed was I that I did not even ask pardon, but onlyfretted this way and that way seeing to buckles and straps. 

"You are driving then, Grindhusen?" called Fruen from the carriage. 

"Me? Yes, surely, " he answered. 

Fruen pulled the door to with a bang, and the carriage drove off. 

 * * * * *

"Has she gone?" asked the maids, clasping their hands. 

"Gone--yes, of course. She's going to meet her husband. "

I strolled up to the reservoir again. Grindhusen away meant one man less;why, then, the rest of us must work so much the harder. 

But I had already come to realize that Fru Falkenberg had only silenced mewith a false excuse when she declared she was going to meet her husband. What matter? The horses were rested; they had done no work the days Nilshad been helping us with the trench. But I had been a fool. I could havegot up on the box myself without asking leave. Well, and what then? Why, then at least any later follies would have had to pass by way of me, moreor less, and I might have stopped them. He, he! infatuated old fool! Fruenknew what she was doing, no doubt; she wanted to pay off old scores, andbe away when her husband came home. She was all indecision, would andwould not, would and would not, all the time; but the idea was there. AndI, simple soul--I had not set out a-wandering on purpose to attend to theparticular interests of married folk in love or out of it. 'Twas theiraffair! Fru Falkenberg had changed for the worse. There was no denying it;she had suffered damage, and was thoroughly spoiled now; it hardlymattered any longer what she did. Ay, and she had taken to lying as well. First, music-hall tricks with her eyes, then on till it got to lying. Awhite lie today, tomorrow a blacker one, each leading to another. And whatof it? Life could afford to waste her, to throw her away. 

We put in three days' work at the trench; only a few feet left now. Theremight be three degrees of frost now at nights, but it did not stop us; wewent steadily on. Grindhusen had come back, and was set to tunnellingunder the kitchen where the pipes were to go; but the stable and cowshedwas more important, and I did the underground work for these myself. Nilsand Lars ran the last bit of trech up meanwhile, the last bit of way tothe reservoir. 

Today, at last, I questioned Grindhusen about Fruen. 

"So you didn't bring Fruen back with you again this last time?"

"No. She went off by train. "

"Off to her husband, I suppose?"

But Grindhusen has turned cautious with me; these two days past he hassaid never a word, and now he only answers vaguely:

"Ay, that would be it, no doubt. Ay, surely, yes. Why, you might reckonthat out yourself, she would. Her own husband and all. .. . "

"I thought perhaps she might have been going up to her own people atKristianssand. "

"Why, that might be, " says Grindhusen, thinking this a better way. "Lord, yes, that would be it, of course Just for a visit, like. Well, well, she'll be home again soon, for sure. "

"Did she tell you so?"

"Why, 'twas so I made out. And the Captain's not home himself yet, anyway. Eh, but she's a rare openhanded one, she is. 'Here's something for foodand drink for yourself and the horses, ' she says. 'And here's a littleextra, ' she says again. Eh, but there's never her like!"

But to the maids, with whom he felt less fear, Grindhusen had said itdidn't look as if they'd be seeing Fruen back again at all. She had beenasking him all the way, he said, about Engineer Lassen; she must have goneoff to him after all. And, surely, she'd be well enough with him, a manwith any amount of money and grand style and all. 

Then came another card for Fruen from the Captain, this time only to saywould she please send Nils to meet him at the station on Friday, and besure to bring his fur coat. The post card had been delayed--it wasThursday already. And this time it was fortunate, really, that Ragnhildhappened to look at the post card and see what it said. 

We stayed sitting in Nils's room, talking about the Captain--what he wouldsay when he got back, and what we should say, or if we ought to sayanything at all. All three of the maids were present at this council. Fruen would have had plenty of time to get to Kristiania herself by theday the Captain had written his card; she had not, it seemed--she had gonesomewhere else. It was more than pitiful altogether. 

Said Nils:

"Didn't she leave a note or anything when she went?"

But no, there was nothing. Ragnhild, however, had done a thing on her ownresponsibility which perhaps she ought not to have done--she had taken thephotos from the piano and thrown them in the stove. "Was it wrong, now?"

"No, no, Ragnhild! No!"

She told us, also, that she had been through Fruen's wardrobe and sortedout all handkerchiefs that were not hers. Oh, she had found lots of thingsup in her room--a bag with Engineer Lassen's initials worked on, a bookwith his full name in, some sweets in an envelope with his writing--andshe had burnt it all. 

A strange girl, Ragnhild--yes! Was there ever such an instinct as hers? Itwas like the devil turned monk. Ragnhild, who made such use herself of thethick red stair-carpet and the keyholes everywhere!

It suited me and my work well enough that the Captain had not ordered thecarriage before; we had got the trench finished now all the way up, and Icould manage without Nils for laying the pipes. I should want all hands, though, when it came to filling in again. It was rain again now, by theway; mild weather, many degrees of warmth. 

It was well for me, no doubt, these days that I had this work of mine tooccupy my thoughts as keenly as it did; it kept away many a fancy thatwould surely otherwise have plagued me. Now and again I would clench myfists as a spasm of pain came over me; and when I was all alone up at thereservoir I could sometimes cry aloud up at the woods. But there was nopossibility of my getting away. And where should I go if I did?

 * * * * *

The Captain arrived. 

He went all through the house at once--into the parlour, out into thekitchen, then to the rooms upstairs--in his fur coat and overboots. 

"Where's Fruen?" he asked. 

"Fruen went to meet Captain, " answered Ragnhild. "We thought she'd becoming back now as well. "

The Captain's head bowed forward a little. Then cautiously he beganquestioning. 

"You mean she drove with Nils to the station? Stupid of me not to havelooked about while I was there!"

"No, " said Ragnhild; "it was Sunday Fruen went. "

At this the Captain pulled himself together. "Sunday?" he said. "Then shemust have been going to meet me in Kristiania. H'm! We've managed to misseach other somehow. I had to make another little journey yesterday, out toDrammen--no, Frederikstad, I mean. Get me something to eat, will you?"

_"Værsaagod, _ it's already laid. "

"It was the day before yesterday, by the way, I went out there. Well, well, she'll have had a little outing, anyhow. And how's everything goingon? Are the men at work on the trench?"

"They've finished it, I think. "

The Captain went in, and Ragnhild came running at once to tell us what hehad said, that we might know what to go by now, and not make things worse. 

Later in the day he came out to where we were at work, greeted uscheerily, in military fashion, and was surprised to find the pipes alreadylaid; we had begun filling in now. 

"Splendid!" he said. "You fellows are quicker at your work than I am. "

He went off by himself up to the reservoir. When he came back his eyeswere not so keen; he looked a little weary. Maybe he had been sittingthere alone and thinking of many things. He stood watching us now with onehand to his chin. After a little he said to Nils:

"I've sold the timber now. "

"Captain's got a good price for it, maybe?"

"Yes, a good price. But I've been all this time about it. You've beenquicker here. "

"There are more of us here, " I said. "Four of us some times. "

And at that he tried to jest. "Yes, " he said; "I know you're an expensiveman to have about the place!"

But there was no jest in his face; his smile was hardly a smile at all. The weakness had gripped him now in earnest. After a little, he sat downon a stone we had just got out, all over fresh clay as it was, and watchedus. 

I took up my spade and went up, thinking of his clothes. 

"Hadn't I better scrape the stone a bit clean?"

"No, it doesn't matter, " he said. 

But he got up all the same, and let me clean it a little. 

It was then that Ragnhild came running up to us, following the line of thetrench. She had something in her hand--a paper. And she was running, running. The Captain sat watching her. 

"It's only a telegram!" she said breathlessly. "It came on by messenger. "

The Captain got up and strode quickly a few paces forward toward thistelegram that had come. Then he tore it open and read. 

We could see at once it must be something important. The Captain gave agreat gasp. Then he began walking down, running down, towards the house. Alittle way off he turned round and called to Nils:

"The carriage at once! I must go to the station!"

Then he ran on again. 

 * * * * *

So the Captain went away again. He had only been home a few hours. 

Ragnhild told us of his terrible haste and worry, poor man; he was gettinginto the carriage without his fur coat, and would have left the foodbehind him that was packed all ready. And the telegram that had come waslying all open on the stairs. 

"Accident, " it said. "Your wife. --Chief of Police. " What was all this?

"I thought as much, " said Ragnhild, "when they sent it on by messenger. "Her voice was strange, and she turned away. "Something serious, I daresay, " she said. 

"No, no!" said I, reading and reading again. "Look, it's not so very bad!Hear what it says. 'Request you come at once--accident to your wife. '"

It was an express telegram from the little town, the little dead town. Yes, that was it--a town with a roar of sound through it, and a longbridge, and foaming waters; all cries there died as they were uttered--none could hear. And there were no birds. 

But all the maids spoke now in changed voices; 'twas nothing but miseryamongst us now; I had to appear steady and confident myself, to reassurethem. Fruen might have had a fall, perhaps, she was not as active of late. But she could, perhaps, have got up again and walked on almost as well asever--just a little bleeding. .. . Oh, they were so quick with theirtelegrams, these police folk!

"No, no!" said Ragnhild. "You know well enough that when the Chief ofPolice sends a telegram it's pretty sure to mean Fruen's been found deadsomewhere! Oh, I can't--I can't--can't bear it!"

Miserable days! I worked away, harder than ever, but as a man in hissleep, without interest or pleasure. Would the Captain never come?

Three days later he came--quietly and alone. The body had been sent toKristianssand; he had only come back to fetch some clothes, then he wasgoing on there himself, to the funeral. 

He was home this time for an hour at most, then off again to catch theearly train. I did not even see him myself, being out at work. 

Ragnhild asked if he had seen Fruen alive. 

He looked at her and frowned. 

But the girl would not give up; she begged him, for Heaven's sake, to say. And the two other maids stood just behind, as desperate as she. 

Then the Captain answered, but in a low voice as if to himself:

"She had been dead some days when I got there. It was an accident; she hadtried to cross the river and the ice would not bear. No, no, there was noice, but the stones were slippery. There was ice as well, though. "

Then the maids began moaning and crying; but this was more than he couldstand. He got up from the chair where he was sitting, cleared his throathard, and said:

"There, there, it's all right, girls, go along now. Ragnhild, a minute. "And then to Ragnhild, when the others had gone: "What was I going to say, now? You haven't moved some photos, have you, that were on the piano here?I can't make out what's happened to them. "

Then Ragnhild spoke up well and with spirit--and may Heaven bless her forthe lie!

"I? No, indeed, 'twas Fruen herself one day. "

"Oh? Well, well. I only wondered how it was they had gone. "

Relieved--relieved the Captain was to hear it. 

As he was leaving he told Ragnhild to say I was not to go away from Øvrebøtill he returned. 

XIV

No, I didn't go away. 

I worked on, tramped through the weariest days of my life to their end, and finished laying the pipes. It was a bit of a change for us all on theplace the first time we could draw water from a tap, and we were none theworse for something new to talk about for a while. 

Lars Falkenberg had left us. He and I had got rid of all disagreementbetween us at the last, and were as we had been in the old days when wewere mates and tramped the roads together. 

He was better off than many another, was Lars; light of heart and empty ofhead; and thereto unconscionably sound and strong. True, there would be nomore singing up at the house for him now or ever after, but he seemed tohave grown a trifle doubtful of his voice himself the last few years, andcontented himself now for the most part with the things he had sung--onceupon a time--at dances and gentlefolk's parties. No, Lars Falkenberg wasnone so badly off. He'd his own little holding, with keep for two cows anda pig; and a wife and children he had as well. 

But what were Grindhusen and I to turn our hands to now? I could go offwandering anywhere, but Grindhusen, good soul, was no wanderer. All hecould do was to stay on at one place and work till he was dismissed. Andwhen the stern decision came, he was so upset that he could not take iteasily, but felt he was being specially hardly used. Then after a while hegrew confident again, and full of a childlike trust--not in himself, butin Fate, in Providence--sat down resignedly, and said: "Ay, well, 'twillbe all right, let's hope, with God's help. "

But he was happy enough. He settled down with marvellous ease at whateverplace he came to, and could stay there till he died if it rested withhimself. Home he need not go; the children were grown up now, and his wifenever troubled him. No, this red-haired old sinner of former days--all heneeded now was a place, and work. 

"Where are you going after this?" he asked me. 

"A long way, up in the hills, to Trovatn, to a forest. "

He did not believe me in the least, but he answered quickly and evasively:

"Ay, I dare say, yes. "

After we had finished the pipes, Nils sent Grindhusen and myself upcutting wood till the Captain returned. We cut up and stacked the top-endsthe woodmen had left; neat and steady work it was. 

"We'll be turned off, both of us, " said Grindhusen. "When Captain comes, eh?"

"You might get work here for the winter, " I said. "A thousand dozenbattens means a lot of small stuff left over that you could saw up for areasonable wage. "

"Well, talk to the Captain about it, " he said. 

And the hope of regular work for the winter made this man a contentedsoul. He could manage well enough. No, Grindhusen had nothing much totrouble about. 

But then there was myself. And I felt but little worth or use to myselfnow, Heaven help me!

 * * * * *

That Sunday I wandered restlessly about. I was waiting for the Captain; hewas to be back today. To make sure of things as far as I could, I went fora long walk up along the stream that fed our reservoir. I wanted to haveanother look at the two little waters up the hillside--"the sources of theNile. "

Coming down on the way back, I met Lars Falkenberg; he was going home. Thefull moon was just coming up, red and huge, and turned things light allround. A touch of snow and frost there was, too; it was easy breathing. Lars was in a friendly mood: he had been drinking _Brændevin_somewhere, and talked a great deal. But I was not altogether pleased atmeeting him. 

I had stood there long up on the wooded hillside, listening to thesoughing of earth and sky, and there was nothing else to hear. Then theremight come a faint little rustling, a curled and shrunken leaf rolling andrustling down over the frozen branches. It was like the sound of a littlespring. Then the soughing of earth and sky again. A gentleness came overme; a mute was set on all my strings. 

Lars Falkenberg wanted to know where I had been and where I was going. Reservoir? A senseless business that reservoir thing. As if peoplecouldn't carry water for themselves. The Captain went in too much forthese new-fangled inventions and ploughing over standing crops andsuch-like; he'd find himself landed one day. A rich harvest, they said. Ho, yes, but they never troubled to think what it must cost, with machinesfor this and that, and a pack of men to every machine again. What mustn'tit have cost, now, for Grindhusen and me that summer! And then himselfthis autumn. In the old days it had been music and plenty at Øvrebø, andsome of us had been asked into the parlour to sing. "I'll say no more, "said Lars. "And now there's hardly a sizeable stick of timber left in thewoods. "

"A few years' time and it'll be as thick as ever. "

"A few years! A many years, you mean. No, it's not enough to go aboutbeing Captain and commanding--brrrr! and there it is! And he's not evenspokesman for the neighbours now, and you never see folk coming up now toask him what he'd say was best to do in this or that. .. . "

"Did you see the Captain down below? Had he come back yet?" I broke in. 

"He's just come back. Looked like a skeleton, he did. What was I going tosay?. .. When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow, " I said. 

"So soon?" Lars was all friendliness, and wishing me good luck now; he hadnot thought I should be going off at once. 

"It's all a chance if I see you again this time, " he said. "But I'll tellyou this much, now: you'd do well to stop frittering your life away anymore, and never staying on a place for good. And I say as much here andnow, so mark my words. I dare say I haven't got on so grandly myself, butI don't know many of our likes have done better, and anyway not you. I'vea roof over my head at the least, and a wife and children, and two cows--one bears autumn and one spring--and then a pig, and that's all I can sayI own. So better not boast about that. But if you reckon it up, it amountsto a bit of a holding after all. "

"It's all very well for you, the way you've got on, " said I. 

Lars is friendlier than ever after this appreciation; he wishes me no endof good, and goes on:

"There's none could get on better than yourself, for that matter. With theknack you've got for all kinds of work, and writing and figuring into thebargain. But it's your own fault. You might have done as I told you thesesix, seven years ago, and taken one of the other girls on the place, likeI did with Emma, and settled down here for good. Then you wouldn't begoing about now from place to place. But I say the same again now. "

"It's too late, " I answered. 

"Ay, you're terribly grey. I don't know who you could reckon to get nowabout here. How old are you now?"

"Don't ask me!"

"Not exactly a young one, perhaps, but still--What was I going to say?Come up with me a little, and maybe I'll remember. "

I walked up, and Lars went on talking all the way. He offered to put in aword for me with the Captain, so I could get a clearing like he had. 

"Funny to go and forget a thing like that, " he said. "It's gone clean outof my head. But come up home now. I'll be sure to hit on it again. "

All friendliness he was now. But I had one or two things to do myself, andwould not go farther. 

"You won't see the Captain tonight, anyway. "

No, but it was late. Emma would be in bed, and would only be a trouble. 

"Not a bit of it, " said Lars. "And if she has gone to bed, what of it? Ishouldn't wonder, now, if there was a shirt of yours up there, too. Bettercome up and take it with you, and save Emma going all the way downherself. "

But I would not go up. I ventured, however, to send a greeting to Emmathis time. 

"Ay, surely, " said Lars. "And if so be as you haven't time to come up tomy bit of a place now, why, there it is. You'll be going off first thingtomorrow, I suppose?"

It slipped my mind for the moment that I should not be able to see theCaptain that evening, and I answered now that I should be leaving as earlyas could be. 

"Well, then, I'll send Emma down with that shirt of yours at once, " saidLars. "And good luck to you. And don't forget what I said. "

And that was farewell to Lars. 

A little farther down I slackened my pace. After all, there was no realhurry about the few things I had to pack and finish off. I turned back andwalked up again a little, whistling in the moonlight. It was a fineevening, not cold at all, only a soft, obedient calm all over the woods. Half an hour passed, and then to my surprise came Emma, bringing my shirt. 

 * * * * *

Next morning neither Grindhusen nor I went to the woods. Grindhusen wasuneasy. 

"Did you speak to the Captain about me?" he asked. 

"I haven't spoken to him. "

"Oh, I know he'll turn me off now, you see! If he had any sense, he'd letme stay on to cut up all that cord-wood. But what's he know about things?It's as much as he can manage to keep a man at all. "

"Why, what's this, Grindhusen? You seemed to like the Captain well enoughbefore. "

"Oh yes, you know! Yes, of course. He's good enough, I dare say. H'm! Iwonder, now, if the Inspector down on the river mightn't have some littlescrap of a job in my line. He's a man with plenty of money, is theInspector. "

I saw the Captain at eight o'clock, and talked with him a while; then acouple of neighbours came to call--offering sympathy in his bereavement, no doubt. The Captain looked fatigued, but he was not a broken man by anymeans; his manner was firm and steady enough. He spoke to me a littleabout a plan he had in mind for a big drying-house for hay and corn. 

No more of things awry now, Øvrebø, no more emotion, no soul gone off therails. I thought of it almost with sadness. No one to stick up impertinentphotographs on the piano, but no one to play on that piano, either; dumbnow, it stands, since the last note sounded. No, for Fru Falkenberg is nothere now; she can do no more hurt to herself or any other. Nothing of allthat used to be here now. Remains, then, to be seen if all will be flowersand joy at Øvrebø hereafter. 

"If only he doesn't take to drinking again, " I said to Nils. 

"No, surely, " he said. "And I don't believe he ever did. It was just a bitof foolery, if you ask me, his going on like that just for the time. Buttalking of something else--will you be coming back here in the spring?"

"No, " I answered. "I shall not come again now. "

Then Nils and I took leave of each other. Well I remember that man's calmand fairness of mind; I stood looking after him as he walked away acrossthe yard. Then he turned round and said:

"Were you up in the woods yesterday? Is there snow enough for me to take asledge up for wood?"

"Yes, " I answered. 

And he went off, relieved, to the stables, to harness up. 

Grindhusen, too, comes along, on the way to the stable. He stops for amoment to tell me that the Captain has himself offered him work cuttingwood. "'Saw up all the small stuff you can, ' he said; 'keep at it for awhile. I dare say we can agree all right about wages. ' 'Honoured and thankyou, Captain, ' says I. 'Right! Go and tell Nils, ' he says. Oh, but he's agrand open-handed sort, is the Captain! There's not many of his likeabout. "

A little while after, I was sent for up to the Captain's room. He thankedme for the work I had done both indoors, and out, and went on to settleup. And that was all, really. But he kept me there a little, asking one ortwo things about the drying-shed, and we talked over that for a bit. Anyhow it would have to wait till after Christmas, he said. But when thetime came, he'd be glad to see me back. He looked me in the face then, andwent on:

"But you won't come back here again now, I suppose?"

I was taken by surprise. But I faced him squarely in return, and answered:

"No. "

As I went down, I thought over what he had said. Had he seen through me, then? If so, he had shown a degree of trust in me that I was glad to thinkof. At least, he was a man of good feeling. 

Trust me? And why should he not? Played out and done with as I was. Suffered to go about and do and be as I pleased, by virtue of my eminentincapacity for harm. Yes, that was it. And, anyhow, there was nothing tosee through after all. 

I went round, upstairs and down, saying good-bye to them all, to Ragnhildand the maids. Then, as I was coming in front of the house with my pack onmy shoulder, the Captain called to me from the steps:

"Wait! I just thought--if you're going to the station, the lad could driveyou in. "

Thoughtful and considerate again! But I thanked him and declined. I wasnot so played out but that I could surely walk that way. 

 * * * * *

Back in my little town again. And if I have come here now, it is becausethe place lies on my way to Trovatn, up in the hills. 

All is as it was before here now, save for thin ice on the river above andbelow the rapids, and snow on the ice again. 

I take care to buy clothes and equipment here in the town, and, having gota good new pair of shoes, I take my old ones to the cobbler to behalf-soled. The cobbler is inclined to talk, and begs me to sit down. "Andwhere's this man from, now?" he asks. In a moment I am enveloped by thespirit of the town. 

I walk up to the churchyard. Here, too, care has been taken to provideequipment for the winter. Bundles of straw have been fastened round plantsand bushes; many a delicate monument is protected by a tall wooden hood. And the hoods again armoured with a coat of paint. As if some providentsoul had thought: Well, now, I have this funeral monument here; withproper care it may be made to last for generations!

There is a Christmas Fair on, too, and I stroll along to see. Here areskis and toboggans, butter scoops and log chairs from the underworld, rose-coloured mittens, clothes' rollers, foxes' skins. And here arehorse-dealers and drovers mingling with drunken folk from up the valley. Jews there are, too, anxious to palm off a gaudy watch or so, for allthere is no money in the town. And the watches come from that country upin the Alps, where Bocklin--did not come from; where nothing and nobodyever came from. 

But in the evening there is brave entertainment for all. Two dancing-hallsthere are, and the music is supplied by masters on the _hardingfele, _and wonderful music it is, to be sure. There are iron strings to it, andit utters no empty phrases, but music with a sting in its tail. It actsdifferently upon different people: some find it rich in nationalsweetness; some of us are rather constrained to grit our teeth and howl inmelancholy wise. Never was stinging music delivered with more effect. 

The dance goes on. 

In one of the intervals the schoolmaster sings touching verses about an

 "aged mother, worn with toil And sweating as 'twere blood. .. . "

But some of the wild youths insist on dancing and nothing else. What'sthis! Start singing, when they're standing here with the girls all readyto dance--it's not proper! The singer stops, and meets the protest inbroadest dialect: What? Not proper? Why, it's by Vinje himself! Heateddiscussion, _pro_ and _contra, _ arguing and shouting. Never wereverses sung with more effect. 

The dance goes on. 

The girls from the valley are armoured five layers thick, but who caresfor that! All are used to hard work. And the dance goes on--ay, thethunder goes on. _Brændevin_ helps things bravely along. The witches'cauldron is fairly steaming now. At three in the morning the local policeforce appears, and knocks on the floor with his stick. _Finis. _ Thedancers go off in the moonlight, and spread out near and far. And ninemonths later, the girls from the valley show proof that after all theywere one layer of armour short. Never was such an effect of being onelayer short. 

The river is quieter now--not much of a river to look at: the winter iscome upon it now. It drives the mills and works that stand on its banks, for, in spite of all, it is and will be a great river still, but it showsno life. It has shut down the lid on itself. 

And the rapids have suffered, too. And I who stood watching them once andlistening, and thought to myself if one lived down there in the roar of itfor ever, what would one's brain be like at last? But now the rapids aredwindled, and murmur faintly. It would be shame to call it a roar. _Herregud!_ 'tis no more than a ruin of what it was. Sunk intopoverty, great rocks thrust up all down the channel, with here and there astick of timber hung up thwart and slantwise; one could cross dry-shod byway of stick and stone. 

 * * * * *

I have done all I have to do in the town, and my pack is on my shoulders. It is Sunday, and a fine clear day. 

I look in at the hotel, to see the porter; he is going with me a bit ofthe way up the river. The great good-hearted fellow offers to carry mythings--as if I could not carry them myself. 

We go up along the right bank; but the road itself lies on the left; theway we are taking is only a summer path, trodden only by the lumbermen, and with some few fresh tracks in the snow. My companion cannot make outwhy we do not follow the road: he was always dull of wit; but I have beenup this path twice before these last few days, and I am going up it onceagain. It is my own tracks we can see all the time. 

I question him:

"That lady you told me about once--the one that was drowned--was itsomewhere about here?"

"Eh? Oh, the one that fell in! Yes. Ay, it was close by here. Dreadful itwas. There must have been twenty of us here, with the police, searchingabout. "

"Dragging the channel?"

"Yes. We got out planks and ladders, but they broke through under us; wecut up all the ice in the end. Here"--he stopped suddenly--"you can seethe way we went. "

I can see in the dark space where the boats had moved out and brokenthrough the ice to drag the depth; it was frozen over again now. 

The porter goes on:

"We found her at last. And a mercy it was, I dare say. The river was lowas it was. Gone right down at once, she had, and got stuck fast betweentwo stones. There was no current to speak of; if it had been spring, now, she'd have travelled a long way down. "

"Trying to cross to the other side, I suppose?"

"Ay. They're always getting out on the ice as soon as it comes; a nastyway it is. Somebody had been over already, but that was two days before. She just came walking down on this side where we are, and the engineer, hewas coming down the road on the other side--he'd been out on his bicyclesomewhere. Then they caught sight of each other and waved or made a signor something, for they were cousins or something, both of them. Then thelady must have mistaken him somehow, the engineer says, and thought he wasbeckoning, for she started to come across. He shouted at her not to, butshe didn't hear, and he'd got his bicycle and couldn't move, but, anyhow, some one had got across before. The engineer told the police all about howit happened, and it was written down, every word. Well, and then whenshe's half-way across, she goes down. A rotten piece of ice it must havebeen where she trod. And the engineer, he comes down like lightning on hisbicycle through the town and up to the hotel and starts ringing. I neverheard the like, the way he rang. 'There's someone in the river!' he criesout. 'My cousin's fallen in!' Out we went, and he came along with us. We'dropes and boat-hooks, but that was no use. The police came soon after, andthe fire brigade; they got hold of a boat up there and carried it betweenthem till they got to us; then they got it out and started searching aboutwith the drag. We didn't find her the first day, but the day after. Ay, anasty business, that it was. "

"And her husband came, you said. The Captain?"

"Yes, the Captain, he came. And you can reckon for yourself the state hewas in. And we were all the same for that matter, all the town was. Theengineer, he was out of his senses for a long while, so they told us atthe hotel, and when the Captain arrived, the engineer went off inspectingup the river, just because he couldn't bear to talk any more about it. "

"So the Captain didn't see him, then?"

"No. H'm! Nay, I don't know, " said the porter, looking around. "No, Idon't know anything about that--no. "

His answer was so confused, it was evident that he did know. But it was ofno importance, and I did not question him again. 

"Well, thanks for coming up with me, " I said, and shared a little moneywith him for a winter wrap or something of the sort. And I took leave ofhim, and wanted him to turn back. 

He seemed anxious, however, to go on with me a little farther. And, to getme to agree, he suddenly confesses that the Captain had seen the engineerwhile he was here--yes. The porter, good foolish creature, had understoodenough of the maids' gossip in the kitchen to make out that there wassomething wrong about the engineer and this cousin of his who had come tostay; more than this, however, he had not seen. But, as regards themeeting between the two men, it was he himself who had acted as guide tothe Captain on his way up to find the engineer. 

"He said he must find him, and so we went up together. And the Captain, heasked me on the way, what could there be to inspect up the river now itwas frozen over? And I couldn't see myself, I told him. And so we walkedup all day to about three or four in the afternoon. 'We might see if he'snot in the hut here, ' I said, for I'd heard the lumbermen used the place. Then the Captain wouldn't let me go on with him any farther, but told meto wait. And he walked up to the hut by himself, and went in. He'd notbeen in the place more than a bare couple of minutes, when out he comes, and the engineer with him. There was a word or so between them--I didn'thear; then all of a sudden the Captain flings up one arm like that, andlands out at the engineer, and down he goes. Lord! but he must have feltit pretty badly. And not content with that, he picks him up and lands outat him again as hard as before. Then he came back to me and said we'd begoing home. "

I grew thoughtful at this. It seemed strange that this porter, a creaturewho bore no grudge or ill-will to any one, should leave the engineer upthere at the hut without aid. And he had shown no disapproval in histelling of the thrashing. The engineer must have been miserly with him, too, I thought, and never paid him for his services, but only ordered himabout and laughed at him, puppy that he was. That would be it, no doubt. And this time, perhaps, I was not misled by jealous feelings of my own. 

"But the Captain--he was free with his money, if you like, " said theporter at last. "I paid off all my owings with what he gave me--ay, indeedI did. "

When at last I had got rid of the man, I crossed the river; the ice wasfirm enough. I was on the main road now. And I walked on, thinking overthe porter's story. That scene at the hut--what did it amount to, afterall? It merely showed that one of the two men was big and strong, theother a little, would-be sportsman heavily built behind. But the Captainwas an officer--it was something of that sort, perhaps, he had beenthinking. Perhaps he ought to have thought a little more in other wayswhile there was yet time--who can say? It was his wife! who had beendrowned. The Captain might do what he pleased now; she would never comeagain. 

But if she did, what then? She was born to her fate, no doubt. Husband andwife had tried to patch up the damage, but had failed. I remember her asshe was six or seven years back. She found life dull, and fell in love atrifle here and there perhaps, even then, but she was faithful anddelicate-minded. And time went on. She had no occupation, but had threemaid-servants to her house; she had no children, but she had a piano. Butshe had no children. 

And Life can afford to waste. 

Mother and child it was that went down. 

EPILOGUE

A wanderer plays with muted strings when he comes to fifty years. Then heplays with muted strings. 

Or I might put it in this way. 

If he comes too late for the harvest of berries in autumn, why, he is cometoo late, that is all; and if one fine day he finds he can no longer begay and laugh all over his face in delight of life, 'tis because he isold, no doubt; blame him not for that! And there can be no doubt that itrequires a certain vacuity of mind to go about feeling permanentlycontented with oneself and all else. But we have all our softer moments. A prisoner is being driven to the scaffold in a cart. A nail in the seatirks him; he shifts aside a little, and feels more at ease. 

A Captain should not pray that God may forgive him--as he forgives hisGod. It is simply theatrical. A wanderer who cannot reckon every day onfood and drink, clothes and boots, and house and home, feels just theright degree of privation when all these luxuries are lacking. If youcannot manage one way, why, there will be another. But if the other wayshould also fail, then one does not forgive one's God, but takes up theresponsibility oneself. Shoulder against what comes--that is, bow to it. A trifle hard for flesh and blood, and it greys a man's hair sadly. But awanderer thanks God for life; it was good to live!

I might put it that way. 

For why these high demands on life? What have we earned? All the boxes ofsweetmeats a sweet-tooth could wish for? Well and good. But have we nothad the world to look upon each day, and the soughing of the woods tohear? There is nothing so grand in all the world as that voice of thewoods. 

There was a scent of jasmine in a shrubbery, and one I know thrilled withjoy, not for the jasmine's scent but for all there was--for the light in awindow, a memory, the whole of life. He was called away from the jasminesafter, but he had been paid beforehand for that little mishap. 

And so it is; the mere grace that we are given life at all is generouspayment in advance for all the miseries of life--for every one of them. 

No, do not think we have the right to more sweetmeats than we get. Awanderer's advice: no superstition. What is life's? All. But what isyours? Is fame? Oh, tell us why! A man should not so insist on what is"his. " It is comical; a wanderer laughs at any one who can be so comical. I remember one who could not give up that "his. " He started to lay a firein his stove at noon, and by evening he got it to burn at last. Hecouldn't leave the comfortable warmth to go to bed, but sat there tillother people got up, lest it should be wasted. A Norwegian writer of stageplays, it was. 

I have wandered about a good deal in my time, and am grown foolish now, and out of bloom. But I do not hold the perverse belief of old mengenerally, that I am wiser than I was. And I hope I may never grow wise;'tis a sign of decrepitude. If I thank God for life, it is not by virtueof any riper wisdom that has come to me with age, but because I havealways taken a pleasure in life. Age gives no riper wisdom; age givesnothing but age. 

 * * * * *

I was too late for the berries this year, but I am going up that way allthe same. I am allowing myself this little treat, by way of reward forhaving worked well this summer. And I reach my goal on the 12th ofDecember. 

It is true, no doubt, that I might have stayed down among the villages. Icould have managed somehow, no doubt, as did all the others who had foundit time to settle down. And Lars Falkenberg, my colleague and mate, he hadurged me to take up a holding with keep for a wife and two cows and a pig. A friend's advice; _vox populi. _ And then, why, one of the cows mightbe an ox to ride, a means of transport for my shivering age! But it cameto naught--it came to naught! My wisdom has not come with age; here am Igoing up to Trovatn and the waste lands to live in a wooden hut!

What pleasure can there be in that? _Ai_, Lars Falkenberg, and_ai, _ every one else, have no fear; I have a man to come up withthings I need. 

 * * * * *

So I drift about and about by myself, looking after myself, living alone. I miss that seal of Bishop Pavel's. One of his descendants gave it to me, and I had it in my waistcoat pocket this summer, but, looking for it now, I find I have lost it. Well, well; but, anyhow, I have been paid inadvance for that mishap, in having owned it once. 

But I do not feel the want of books to read. 

The 12th of December--I can keep a date in mind and carelessly forgetthings more important. It is only just now I remember about the books--that Captain Falkenberg and his wife had many books in their house--novelsand plays--a whole bookcase full. I saw it one day when I was paintingwindows and doors at Øvrebø. Entire sets of authors they had, and authors'complete works--thirty books. Why the complete works? I do not know. Books--one, two, three, ten, thirty. They had come out each Christmas--novels, thirty volumes--the same novel. They read them, no doubt, the Captain andhis wife; knew every time what they should find in the poets of the home;there was always such a lot about all coming right in the end. So theyread them, no doubt. How should I know? Heavens, what a host of books! Twomen could not shift the bookcase when I wanted to paint behind; it tookthree men and a cook to move it. One of the men was Grindhusen; he flushedunder the weight of those poets of the home, and said: "I can't see whatfolk want with such a mighty crowd of books!"

Grindhusen! As if he knew anything about it! The Captain and his wife hadall those books, no doubt, that none should be lacking; there they wereall complete. It would make a gap to take away a single one; they werepaired each with the rest, uniform poetry, the same story throughout. 

 * * * * *

An elk-hunter has been up here with me in the hut. Nothing much; and hisdog was an ill-tempered brute. I was glad when he went on again. He tookdown my copper saucepan from the wall, and used it for his cooking, andleft it black with soot. 

It is not my copper saucepan, but was here in the hut, left by some onewho was here before. I only rubbed it with ashes and hung it up on thewall as a weather-guide for myself. I am rubbing it up again now, for itis a good thing to have; it turns dim unfailingly when there is rain orsnow coming on. 

If Ragnhild had been here, now, she would have polished up that saucepanherself. But then, again, I tell myself, I would rather see to my ownweather-guides; Ragnhild can find something else to do. And if this placeup in the woods were our clearing, then she would have the children, andthe cows, and the pig. But _my_ copper things I prefer to do myself, Ragnhild. 

I remember a lady, the mistress of a house: she did no work at all, andsaw to nothing, least of all to herself. And ill she fared in the end. Butsix or seven years back I had never believed any one could be so delicateand lovely to another as she. I drove her once, upon a journey, and shewas shy with me, although she was a lady, and above me. She blushed andlooked down. And the strange thing was that she made me feel a kind ofshyness myself, although I was only her servant. Only by looking at mewith her two eyes when she spoke to me, she showed me treasures and beautybeyond what I knew before; I remember it still. Ay, here I sit, remembering it yet, and I shake my head and say to myself how strange itwas--how strange! And then she died. And what more? Nothing more. I amstill here, but she is gone. But I should not grieve at her death. I hadbeen paid beforehand, surely, for that loss, in that she looked at me withher two eyes--a thing beyond my deserts. Ay, so it must be. 

Woman--what do the sages know of woman?

I know a sage, and he wrote of woman. Wrote of woman in thirty volumes ofuniform theatre-poetry: I counted the volumes once in a big bookcase. Andat last he wrote of the woman who left her own children to go in searchof--the wonderful! But what, then, were the children? Oh, it was comical:a wanderer laughs at anything so comical. 

What does the sage know of woman?

To begin with, he was not a sage at all till he grew old, and all he knewof woman then was from memory. But then, again, he can have no memory ofher, seeing he never knew her. The man who has an aptitude for wisdombusies himself jealously with his little aptitude and nothing else;cultivates and cherishes it; holds it forth and lives for it. 

We do not turn to woman for wisdom. The four wisest heads in the world, who have delivered their findings on the subject of woman, simply sat andinvented her out of their own heads--octogenarians young or old they were, that rode on oxen. They knew nothing of woman in holiness, woman insweetness, woman as an indispensable, but they wrote and wrote about her. Think of it! Without finding her. 

Heaven save me from growing wise! And I will mumble the same to my lastturn: Heaven save me from growing wise!

 * * * * *

Just cold enough now for a little outing I have had in mind: thesnow-peaks lie rosy in the sun, and my copper saucepan points to fair. Itis eight in the morning. 

Knapsack and a good stock of food, an extra lashing in my pocket in caseanything should break, and a note on the table for the man with suppliesin case he should come up while I am away. 

Oh, but I have been showing off nicely all to myself: pretending I wasgoing far, and needed to equip myself with care, had occasion for all mypresence of mind and endurance. A man can show off like that when he isgoing far; but I am not. I have no errand anywhere, and nothing calls me;I am only a wanderer setting forth from a hut, and coming back to itagain; it does not matter where I am. 

It is quiet and empty in the woods; all things deep in snow, holding theirbreath as I come. At noon, looking back from a hill, I can see Trovatn farbehind; white and flat it lies, a stretch of chalk, a desert of snow. After a meal I go on again, higher and higher, nearing the fjeld now, butslowly and thoughtfully, with hands in my pockets. There is no hurry; Ihave only to find a shelter for the night. 

Later on in the afternoon I sit down again to eat, as if I needed a mealand had earned it. But it is only for something to do; my hands are idle, and my brain inclined to fancies. It gets dark early: well to find asheltered cleft in the hillside here; there are fallen firs enough lyingabout for a fire. 

Such are the things I tell of now, playing with muted strings. 

I was out early next morning, as soon as it began to get light. A quiet, warm snowfall came on, and there was a soughing in the air. Bad weathercoming, I thought to myself; but who could have foreseen it? Neither I normy weather-guide looked for it twenty-four hours ago. 

I left my shelter and went on again over moor and heath; full day againnow, and snowing. It was not the best of shelters I had found for thenight: passably soft and dry, with branches of fir to lie on, and I hadnot felt the cold, but the smoke from my fire drifted in over me andtroubled my breathing. 

But now, this afternoon, I found a better place--a spacious and elegantcave with walls and roof complete. Room here for me and my fire, and thesmoke went up. I nodded at this, and decided to settle down here, thoughit was early yet, and still quite light; I could distinctly make out thehills and valleys and rocks on a naked fjeld straight ahead some fewhours' march away. But I nodded, as if I had reached my goal, and set towork gathering firewood and bedding for the night. 

I felt so thoroughly at home here. It was not for nothing I nodded andtook off my knapsack. "Was this the place you were making for?" I say, talking to myself in jest. "Yes, " I answer. 

The soughing in the air grew stronger; it was not snow that was fallingnow, but rain. Strange--a great wet rainfall down over the cave, over allthe trees outside, and yet it was the cold Christmas month--December. Aheat-wave had taken it into its head to visit us. 

It rained and rained that night, and there was a soughing all through thetrees outside. It was like spring; it filled my sleep at last with so richan ease, that I slept on sound and deep till it was broad day. 

Ten o'clock. 

The rain had ceased, but it is still warm. I sit looking out of the cave, and listening to the bend and whisper of the trees. Then a stone breaksloose on the fjeld opposite; it butts against a rock and brings that downas well; a few faint thuds are heard. Then a rumble: I see what ishappening, and the sound echoes within me; the rock loosened other rocks, an avalanche goes thundering down the mountain-side, snow and earth andboulders, leaving a smoky cloud in its wake. The stream of rubble seems ina living rage; it thrusts its way on, tearing down other masses with it--crowding, pouring, pouring, fills up a chasm in the valley--and stops. Thelast few boulders settle slowly into place, and then no more. The thunderover, there is silence, and within myself is only a breathing as of aslowly descending bass. 

And so I sit once more, listening to the soughing of the woods. Is it theheaving of the AEgean sea, or is it the ocean current Glimma? I grow weakfrom just listening. Recollections of my past life rise within me, joys bythe thousand, music and eyes, flowers. There is nothing more glorious thanthe soughing of the woods. It is like swinging, rocking--a madness:Uganda, Antananarivo, Honolulu, Atacama, Venezuela. 

But it is all the years, no doubt, that make me so weak, and my nervesthat join in the sounds I hear. I get up and stand by the fire to get overit; now I think of it, I feel I could talk to the fire a little, make aspeech to the dying fire. I am in a fire-proof house here, and theacoustic conditions are good. H'm!

Then the cave is darkened; it is the elk-hunter again with his dog. 

It begins to freeze as I trudge along homeward to my hut. The frost soonhardens the ground, moor and heath, making it easy walking. I trudge alongslowly and carelessly, hands in my pockets. There is no hurry now; itmatters little where I am.