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diff --git a/31496-h/31496-h.htm b/31496-h/31496-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..30123d4 --- /dev/null +++ b/31496-h/31496-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11725 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title>Ditte: Girl Alive!, by Martin Anderson Nexoe; an eBook from Project Gutenberg</title> + <style type="text/css"> + /* <![CDATA[ */ +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +.pagenum { + /*visibility: hidden;*/ + color: #999; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.center { text-align: center; } +.smcap { font-variant: small-caps; } + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br { display: none; } + +.poem .stanza { margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; } + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +/***/ + +.trnote { + font-family: sans-serif; + background-color: #ccc; + color: #000; + border: black 1px dotted; + margin: 2em 10% 2em 10%; + padding: 1.5em; +} +.trnote ul li { list-style-type: none; } + +.toc { margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 25%; padding-right: 2em; margin-top: 0; padding-top: 0; } +.toc li { list-style-type: upper-roman; } +.toc li p { margin-top: 0; padding-top: 0; } +.toc .num { position: absolute; right: 30%; top: auto; } +.tocchap { position: absolute; left: 26%; top: auto; } +html>/**/body .tocchap { left: 29%; } +p.toc { font-size: 60%; margin-bottom: 0; padding-bottom: 0; } + +hr.chapbreak { width: 25%; /*visibility: hidden;*/ } +hr.tb, .w65 { width: 65%; } +.w45 { width: 45%; } +.w25 { width: 25%; } + +.caps { text-transform: uppercase; } + +.smaller { font-size: smaller; } +.larger { font-size: larger; } +h2 .smaller { line-height: 150%; } + +a.corr { /*border-bottom: 1px dotted #333;*/ } + + /* ]]> */ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ditte: Girl Alive!, by Martin Andersen Nexo + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Ditte: Girl Alive! + +Author: Martin Andersen Nexo + +Release Date: March 4, 2010 [EBook #31496] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DITTE: GIRL ALIVE! *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="trnote"> +<h2>Transcriber's note</h2> +<p>Typographer's errors and obvious inconsistencies have been corrected + and a <a href="#trcorrections">list of corrections</a> can be found + after the book.</p> +<p>The author's name is correctly "Martin Andersen Nexø", but the + misspelling "Anderson" on the title page has been maintained.</p> +</div> + +<h1 class="caps">Ditte: Girl Alive!</h1> + +<h2 class="caps"><span class="smaller">By</span><br /> +Martin Anderson Nexö</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>Translated from the Danish</i></p> + +<p class="center caps">New York<br /> +Henry Holt and Company</p> + +<hr class="w25" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1920<br /> +<span class="caps">by<br /> +Henry Holt and Company</span></p> + +<hr class="w65" /> + + +<h2 class="caps"><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>Contents</h2> + +<h3 class="smcap">Part I</h3> + +<p class="toc"><span class="caps tocchap">Chapter</span> + <span class="num caps">Page</span></p> +<ol class="toc"> +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#I_CHAPTER_I">Ditte's Family Tree</a> + <span class="num">3</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#I_CHAPTER_II">Before the Birth</a> + <span class="num">10</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#I_CHAPTER_III">A Child Is Born</a> + <span class="num">22</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#I_CHAPTER_IV">Ditte's First Step</a> + <span class="num">26</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#I_CHAPTER_V">Grandfather Strikes Out Afresh</a> + <span class="num">33</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#I_CHAPTER_VI">The Death of Sören Man</a> + <span class="num">39</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#I_CHAPTER_VII">The Widow and the Fatherless</a> + <span class="num">47</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#I_CHAPTER_VIII">Wise Maren</a> + <span class="num">52</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#I_CHAPTER_IX">Ditte Visits Fairyland</a> + <span class="num">69</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#I_CHAPTER_X">Ditte Gets a Father</a> + <span class="num">79</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#I_CHAPTER_XI">The New Father</a> + <span class="num">87</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#I_CHAPTER_XII">The Rag and Bone Man</a> + <span class="num">103</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#I_CHAPTER_XIII">Ditte Has a Vision</a> + <span class="num">115</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#I_CHAPTER_XIV">At Home With Mother</a> + <span class="num">124</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#I_CHAPTER_XV">Rain and Sunshine</a> + <span class="num">138</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#I_CHAPTER_XVI">Poor Granny</a> + <span class="num">144</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#I_CHAPTER_XVII">When the Cat's Away</a> + <span class="num">151</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#I_CHAPTER_XVIII">The Raven Flies by Night</a> + <span class="num">163</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#I_CHAPTER_XIX">Ill Luck Follows the Raven's Call</a> + <span class="num">172</span></p></li> +</ol> + + +<hr class="w45" /> + +<h3 class="smcap">Part II</h3> + +<p class="toc"><span class="caps tocchap">Chapter</span> + <span class="num caps">Page</span></p> +<ol class="toc"> +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#II_CHAPTER_I">Morning at the Crow's Nest</a> + <span class="num">183</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#II_CHAPTER_II">The Highroad</a> + <span class="num">192</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#II_CHAPTER_III">Lars Peter Seeks the King</a> + <span class="num">203</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#II_CHAPTER_IV">Little Mother Ditte</a> + <span class="num">219</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#II_CHAPTER_V">The Little Vagabond</a> + <span class="num">230</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#II_CHAPTER_VI">The Knife-Grinder</a> + <span class="num">239</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#II_CHAPTER_VII">The Sausage-Maker</a> + <span class="num">250</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#II_CHAPTER_VIII">The Last of the Crow's Nest</a> + <span class="num">267</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#II_CHAPTER_IX">A Death</a> + <span class="num">284</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#II_CHAPTER_X">The New World</a> + <span class="num">291</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#II_CHAPTER_XI">Gingerbread House</a> + <span class="num">303</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#II_CHAPTER_XII">Daily Troubles</a> + <span class="num">311</span></p></li> + +<li><p><a class="smcap" href="#II_CHAPTER_XIII">Ditte's Confirmation</a> + <span class="num">320</span></p></li> +</ol> + + +<hr class="w65" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a> +<br /><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> +<h2>PART I</h2> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="I_CHAPTER_I" id="I_CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a><br /> +Ditte's Family Tree</span></h2> + + +<p>It has always been considered a sign of good birth +to be able to count one's ancestors for centuries +back. In consequence of this, Ditte Child o' Man +stood at the top of the tree. She belonged to one of +the largest families in the country, the family of Man.</p> + +<p>No genealogical chart exists, nor would it be easy +to work it out; its branches are as the sands of the +sea, and from it all other generations can be traced. +Here it cropped out as time went on—then twined +back when its strength was spent and its part played +out. The Man family is in a way as the mighty +ocean, from which the waves mount lightly towards the +skies, only to retreat in a sullen flow.</p> + +<p>According to tradition, the first mother of the family +is said to have been a field worker who, by resting on +the cultivated ground, became pregnant and brought +forth a son. And it was this son who founded the +numerous and hardy family for whom all things prospered. +The most peculiar characteristic of the Man +family in him was that everything he touched became +full of life and throve.</p> + +<p>This boy for a long time bore the marks of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +clinging earth, but he outgrew it and became an able +worker of the field; with him began the cultivation +of the land. That he had no father gave him much +food for thought, and became the great and everlasting +problem of his life. In his leisure he created a whole +religion out of it.</p> + +<p>He could hold his own when it came to blows; in his +work there was no one to equal him, but his wife had +him well in hand. The name Man is said to have +originated in his having one day, when she had driven +him forth by her sharp tongue, sworn threateningly +that he was master in his own house, "master" being +equivalent to "man." Several of the male members of +this family have since found it hard to bow their pride +before their women folk.</p> + +<p>A branch of the family settled down on the desert +coast up near the Cattegat, and this was the beginning +of the hamlet. It was in those times when forest and +swamp still made the country impassable, and the sea +was used as a highway. The reefs are still there on +which the men landed from the boats, carrying women +and children ashore; by day and by night white seagulls +take turns to mark the place—and have done so through +centuries.</p> + +<p>This branch had in a marked degree the typical +characteristics of the family: two eyes—and a nose in +the middle of their faces; one mouth which could both +kiss and bite, and a pair of fists which they could make +good use of. In addition to this the family was alike +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +in that most of its members were better than their +circumstances. One could recognize the Man family +anywhere by their bad qualities being traceable to +definite causes, while for the good in them there was +no explanation at all: it was inbred.</p> + +<p>It was a desolate spot they had settled upon, but +they took it as it was, and gave themselves up patiently +to the struggle for existence, built huts, chopped wood +and made ditches. They were contented and hardy, +and had the Man's insatiable desire to overcome difficulties; +for them there was no bitterness in work, and +before long the result of their labors could be seen. +But keep the profit of their work they could not; they +allowed others to have the spending of it, and thus it +came about, that in spite of their industry they remained +as poor as ever.</p> + +<p>Over a century ago, before the north part of the +coast was discovered by the land folk, the place still +consisted of a cluster of hunch-backed, mildewed huts, +which might well have been the originals, and on the +whole resembled a very ancient hamlet. The beach +was strewn with tools and drawn-up boats. The water +in the little bay stank of castaway fish, catfish and +others which, on account of their singular appearance, +were supposed to be possessed of devils, and therefore +not eaten.</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour's walk from the hamlet, out +on the point, lived Sören Man. In his young days he +had roamed the seas like all the others, but according +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +to custom had later on settled himself down as a fisherman. +Otherwise, he was really more of a peasant and +belonged to that branch of the family which had +devoted itself to the soil, and for this had won much +respect. Sören Man was the son of a farmer, but on +reaching man's estate, he married a fisher girl and +gave himself up to fishing together with agriculture—exactly +as the first peasant in the family had +done.</p> + +<p>The land was poor, two or three acres of downs +where a few sheep struggled for their food, and this +was all that remained of a large farm which had once +been there, and where now seagulls flocked screaming +over the white surf. The rest had been devoured +by the ocean.</p> + +<p>It was Sören's, and more particularly Maren's foolish +pride that his forefathers had owned a farm. It had +been there sure enough three or four generations back; +with a fairly good ground, a clay bank jutting out into +the sea. A strong four-winged house, built of oak—taken +from wrecks—could be seen from afar, a picture +of strength. But then suddenly the ocean began to +creep in. Three generations, one after the other, were +forced to shift the farm further back to prevent its +falling into the sea, and to make the moving easier, each +time a wing was left behind; there was, of course, no +necessity for so much house-room, when the land was +eaten by the sea. All that now remained was the +heavy-beamed old dwelling-house which had prudently +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +been placed on the landward side of the road, and a +few sandhills.</p> + +<p>Here the sea no longer encroached. Now the best +had gone, with the lands of Man, it was satiated and +took its costly food elsewhere; here, indeed, it gave +back again, throwing sand up on to the land, which +formed a broad beach in front of the slope, and on +windy days would drift, covering the rest of the field. +Under the thin straggling downs could still be traced +the remains of old plowland, broken off crudely on the +slope, and of old wheeltracks running outwards and +disappearing abruptly in the blue sky over the sea.</p> + +<p>For many years, after stormy nights with the sea at +high tide, it had been the Man's invariable custom each +morning to find out how much had again been taken by +the sea; burrowing animals hastened the destruction; +and it happened that whole pieces of field with their +crops would suddenly go; down in the muttering ocean +it lay, and on it the mark of harrow and plow and the +green reflection of winter crops over it.</p> + +<p>It told on a man to be witness of the inevitable. For +each time a piece of their land was taken by the sea with +all their toil and daily bread on its back, they themselves +declined. For every fathom that the ocean stole +nearer to the threshold of their home, nibbling at their +good earth, their status and courage grew correspondingly +less.</p> + +<p>For a long time they struggled against it, and clung +to the land until necessity drove them back to the sea. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +Sören was the first to give himself entirely up to it: +he took his wife from the hamlet and became a fisherman. +But they were none the better for it. Maren +could never forget that her Sören belonged to a family +who had owned a farm; and so it was with the children. +The sons cared little for the sea, it was in them to +struggle with the land and therefore they sought work +on farms and became day-laborers and ditchers, and +as soon as they saved sufficient money, emigrated to +America. Four sons were farming over there. They +were seldom heard of, misfortune seemed to have worn +out their feeling of relationship. The daughters went +out to service, and after a time Sören and Maren lost +sight of them, too. Only the youngest, Sörine, stayed +at home longer than was usual with poor folks' children. +She was not particularly strong, and her parents +thought a great deal of her—as being the only one they +had left.</p> + +<p>It had been a long business for Sören's ancestors to +work themselves up from the sea to the ownership of +cultivated land; it had taken several generations to +build up the farm on the Naze. But the journey down +hill was as usual more rapid, and to Sören was left the +worst part of all when he inherited; not only acres but +possessions had gone; nothing was left now but a poor +man's remains.</p> + +<p>The end was in many ways like the beginning. Sören +was like the original man in this also, that he too was +amphibious. He understood everything, farming, fishing +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +and handicraft. But he was not sharp enough to +do more than just earn a bare living, there was never +anything to spare. This was the difference between +the ascent and the descent. Moreover, he—like so +many of the family—found it difficult to attend to his +own business.</p> + +<p>It was a race which allowed others to gather the +first-fruits of their labors. It was said of them that +they were just like sheep, the more the wool was +clipped, the thicker it grew. The downfall had not +made Sören any more capable of standing up for himself.</p> + +<p>When the weather was too stormy for him to go to +sea, and there was nothing to do on his little homestead, +he sat at home and patched seaboots for his friends +down in the hamlet. But he seldom got paid for it. +"Leave it till next time," said they. And Sören had +nothing much to say against this arrangement, it was +to him just as good as a savings bank. "Then one has +something for one's old days," said he. Maren and the +girl were always scolding him for this, but Sören in +this as in everything else, did not amend his ways. +He knew well enough what women were; they never +put by for a rainy day.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="I_CHAPTER_II" id="I_CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a><br /> +Before The Birth</span></h2> + + +<p>The children were now out of their care—that +is to say, all the eight of them. Sören and +Maren were now no longer young. The wear and +tear of time and toil began to be felt; and it would +have been good to have had something as a stand-by. +Sörine, the youngest, was as far as that goes, also out +of their care, in that she was grown up and ought long +ago to have been pushed out of the nest; but there +was a reason for her still remaining at home supported +by her old parents.</p> + +<p>She was very much spoiled, this girl—as the youngest +can easily be; she was delicate and bashful with +strangers. But, as Maren thought, when one has given +so many children to the world, it was pleasant to keep +one of them for themselves; nests without young ones +soon become cold. Sören in the main thought just the +same, even if he did grumble and argue that one woman +in the house was more than enough. They were equally +fond of children. And hearing so seldom from the +others they clung more closely to the last one. So +Sörine remained at home and only occasionally took +outside work in the hamlet or at the nearest farms +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +behind the downs. She was supposed to be a pretty girl, +and against this Sören had nothing to say: but what he +could see was that she did not thrive, her red hair stood +like a flame round her clear, slightly freckled forehead, +her limbs were fragile, and strength in her there was +none. When speaking to people she could not meet +their eyes, her own wandered anxiously away.</p> + +<p>The young boys from the hamlet came wooing over +the downs and hung round the hut—preferably on the +warm nights; but she hid herself and was afraid of +them.</p> + +<p>"She takes after the bad side of the family," said +Sören, when he saw how tightly she kept her window +closed.</p> + +<p>"She takes after the fine side," said the mother +then. "Just you wait and see, she will marry a gentleman's +son."</p> + +<p>"Fool," growled Sören angrily and went his way: +"to fill both her own and the girl's head with such +rubbish!"</p> + +<p>He was fond enough of Maren, but her intellect +had never won his respect. As the children grew up +and did wrong in one way or another, Sören always +said: "What a fool the child is—it takes after its +mother." And Maren, as years went on, bore patiently +with this; she knew quite as well as Sören that it was +not intellect that counted.</p> + +<p>Two or three times in the week, Sörine went up +town with a load of fish and brought goods home again. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +It was a long way to walk, and part of the road went +through a pine wood where it was dark in the evening +and tramps hung about.</p> + +<p>"Oh, trash," said Sören, "the girl may just as well +try a little of everything, it will make a woman of her."</p> + +<p>But Maren wished to shelter her child, as long as +she could. And so she arranged it in this way, that her +daughter could drive home in the cart from Sands +farm which was then carrying grain for the brewery.</p> + +<p>The arrangement was good, inasmuch as Sörine need +no longer go in fear of tramps, and all that a timid +young girl might encounter; but, on the other hand, it +did not answer Maren's expectations. Far from having +taken any harm from the long walks, it was now proved +what good they had done her. She became even more +delicate than before, and dainty about her food.</p> + +<p>This agreed well with the girl's otherwise gentle +manners. In spite of the trouble it gave her, this new +phase was a comfort to Maren. It took the last remaining +doubt from her heart: it was now irrevocably +settled. Sörine was a gentlefolks' child, not by birth, +of course—for Maren knew well enough who was +father and who mother to the girl, whatever Sören +might have thought—but by gift of grace. It did happen +that such were found in a poor man's cradle, and +they were always supposed to bring joy to their parents. +Herrings and potatoes, flounders and potatoes and a +little bacon in between—this was no fare for what +one might call a young lady. Maren made little delicacies +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +for her, and when Sören saw it, he spat as if he +had something nasty in his mouth and went his way.</p> + +<p>But, after all one can be too fastidious, and when at +last the girl could not keep down even an omelet, it was +too much of a good thing for Maren. She took her +daughter up to a wise woman who lived on the common. +Three times did she try her skill on Sörine, with no +avail. So Sören had to borrow a horse and cart and +drove them in to the homeopathist. He did it very +unwillingly. Not because he did not care for the girl, +and it might be possible, as Maren said, that as she +slept, an animal or evil spirit might have found its +way into her mouth and now prevented the food from +going down. Such things had been heard of before. +But actually to make fools of themselves on this account—rushing +off with horse and cart to the doctor just as +the gentry did, and make themselves, too, the laughing +stock of the whole hamlet, when a draught of tansy +would have the same effect—this was what Sören could +not put up with.</p> + +<p>But, of course, although the daily affairs were settled +by Sören Man, there were occasions when Maren +insisted on having her way—more so when it seriously +affected <i>her</i> offspring. Then she could—as with witchcraft—suddenly +forget her good behavior, brush aside +Sören's arguments as endless nonsense, and would stand +there like a stone wall which one could neither climb +over, nor get round. Afterwards he would be sorry +that the magic word which should have brought Maren +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +down from her high and mightiness, failed him at the +critical moment. For she <i>was</i> a fool—especially when +it affected her offspring. But, whether right or wrong, +when she had her great moments, fate spoke through +her mouth, and Sören was wise enough to remain +silent.</p> + +<p>This time it certainly seemed as if Maren was in the +right; for the cure which the homeopathist prescribed, +effervescent powder and sweet milk, had a wonderful +effect. Sörine throve and grew fat, so that it was a +pleasure to see her.</p> + +<p>There can be too much of a good thing, and Sören +Man, who had to provide the food, was the first to +think of this. Sörine and her mother talked much +together and wondered what the illness could be, could +it be this or could it be that? There was a great to-do +and much talking with their heads together; but, as soon +as Sören appeared, they became silent.</p> + +<p>He had become quite unreasonable, going about muttering +and swearing. As though it was not hard +enough already, especially for the poor girl! He had +no patience with a sick person, beggar that he was; +and one day it broke out from him with bitterness and +rage: "She must be—it can be nothing else."</p> + +<p>But like a tiger, Maren was upon him.</p> + +<p>"What are you talking about, you old stupid? Have +<i>you</i> borne eight children, or has the girl told you what's +amiss? A sin and a shame it is to let her hear such +talk; but now it is done, you might just as well ask her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +yourself. Answer your father, Sörine—is it true, what +he says?"</p> + +<p>Sörine sat drooping by the fireplace, suffering and +scared. "Then it would be like the Virgin Mary," she +whispered, without looking up. And suddenly sank +down, sobbing.</p> + +<p>"There, you can see yourself, what a blockhead you +are," said Maren harshly. "The girl is as pure as an +unborn child. And here you come, making all this +racket in the house, while the child, perhaps, may be +on the point of death."</p> + +<p>Sören Man bowed his head, and hurried out on to +the downs. Ugh! it was just like thunder overhead. +Blockhead she had called him—for the first time in the +whole of their life together; he would have liked to +have forced that word home again and that, at once, +before it stuck to him. But to face a mad, old wife +and a howling girl—no, he kept out of it.</p> + +<p>Sören Man was an obstinate fellow; when once he +got a thing into his three-cornered head, nothing could +hammer it out again. He said nothing, but went about +with a face which said: "Ay, best not to come to words +with women folk!" Maren, however, did not misunderstand +him. Well, as long as he kept it to himself. +There was the girl torturing herself, drinking petroleum, +and eating soft soap as if she were mad, because +she had heard it was good for internal weakness. It +was too bad; it was adding insult to injury to be jeered +at—by her own father too. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<p>At that time he was as little at home as possible, and +Maren had no objection as it kept him and his angry +glare out of their way. When not at sea, he lounged +about doing odd jobs, or sat gossiping high up on the +downs, from where one could keep an eye on every +boat going out or coming in. Generally, he was allowed +to go in peace, but when Sörine was worse than usual, +Maren would come running—piteous to see in her +motherly anxiety—and beg him to take the girl in to +town to be examined before it was too late. Then he +would fall into a passion and shout—not caring who +might hear: "Confound you, you old nuisance—have +you had eight children yourself and still can't see what +ails the girl?"</p> + +<p>Before long he would repent, for it was impossible +to do without house and home altogether; but immediately +he put his foot inside the door the trouble began. +What was he to do? He had to let off steam, to +prevent himself from going mad altogether with all +this woman's quibbling. Whatever the result might +be, he was tempted to stand on the highest hill and +shout his opinion over the whole hamlet, just for the +pleasure of getting his own back.</p> + +<p>One day, as he was sitting on the shore weighting +the net, Maren came flying over the downs: "Now, you +had better send for the doctor," said she, "or the girl +will slip through our fingers. She's taking on so, it's +terrible to hear."</p> + +<p>Sören also had himself heard moans from the hut; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +he was beside himself with anger and flung a pebble +at her. "Confound you, are you deaf too, that you +cannot hear what that sound means?" shouted he. +"See and get hold of a midwife—and that at once; or +I'll teach you."</p> + +<p>When Maren saw him rise, she turned round and ran +home again. Sören shrugged his shoulders and fetched +the midwife himself. He stayed outside the hut the +whole afternoon without going in, and when it was +evening he went down to the inn. It was a place within +which he seldom set his foot; there was not sufficient +money for that; if house and home should have +what was due to it. With unaccustomed shaking +hand he turned the handle, opened the door with a +jerk and stood with an uncertain air in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"So, that was it, after all," said he with miserable +bravado. And he repeated the same sentence over and +over again the whole evening, until it was time to +stumble home.</p> + +<p>Maren was out on the down waiting for him; when +she saw the state he was in, she burst into tears. "So, +that was——" he began, with a look which should have +been full of withering scorn—but suddenly he stopped. +Maren's tears moved him strangely deep down under +everything else; he had to put his arms round her neck +and join in her tears.</p> + +<p>The two old people sat on the down holding each +other until their tears were spent. Already considerable +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +evil had fallen in the path of this new being; now +fell the first tears.</p> + +<p>When they had got home and busied themselves with +mother and child and had gone to rest in the big +double bed, Maren felt for Sören's hand. So she had +always fallen asleep in their young days, and now it was +as if something of the sweetness of their young days +rose up in her again—was it really owing to the little +lovechild's sudden appearance, or what?</p> + +<p>"Now, perhaps, you'll agree 'twas as I told you all +along," said Sören, just as they were falling asleep.</p> + +<p>"Ay, 'twas so," said Maren. "But how it could +come about ... for men folk...."</p> + +<p>"Oh, shut up with that nonsense," said Sören, and +they went to sleep.</p> + +<hr class="w45" /> + +<p>So Maren eventually had to give in. "Though," +as Sören said, "like as not one fine day she'd swear the +girl had never had a child." Womenfolk! Ugh! there +was no persuading them.</p> + +<p>Anyhow, Maren was too clever to deny what even a +blind man could see with a stick; and it was ever so +much easier for her to admit the hard truth; in spite +of the girl's innocent tears and solemn assurances, there +was a man in the case all the same, and he moreover, +the farmer's son. It was the son of the owner of +Sands farm, whom Sörine had driven home with from +the town—in fear of the dark forest.</p> + +<p>"Ay, you managed it finely—keeping the girl away +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +from vagabonds," said Sören, looking out of the +corners of his eyes towards the new arrival.</p> + +<p>"Rubbish! A farmer's son is better than a vagabond, +anyway," answered Maren proudly.</p> + +<p>After all it was she who was right; had she not +always said there was refinement in Sörine? There was +blue blood in the girl!</p> + +<p>One day, Sören had to put on his best clothes and +off he went to Sands farm.</p> + +<p>"'Twas with child she was, after all," said he, going +straight to the point. "'Tis just born."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is it," said the farmer's son who stood with +his father on the thrashing-floor shaking out some +straw. "Well, that's as it may be!"</p> + +<p>"Ay, but she says you're the father."</p> + +<p>"Oh, does she! Can she prove it, I'd like to +know."</p> + +<p>"She can take her oath on it, she can. So you had +better marry the girl."</p> + +<p>The farmer's son shouted with laughter.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you laugh, do you?" Sören picked up a hayfork +and made for the lad, who hid behind the threshing-machine, +livid with fear.</p> + +<p>"Look here," the boy's father broke in: "Don't +you think we two old ones had better go outside and +talk the matter over? Young folk nowadays are foolish. +Whatever the boy's share in the matter may be, +I don't believe he'll marry her," began he, as they +were outside. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That he shall, though," answered Sören, threateningly.</p> + +<p>"Look you, the one thing to compel him is the law—and +that she will not take, if I know anything about +her. But, I'll not say but he might help the girl to a +proper marriage—will you take two hundred crowns +once and for all?"</p> + +<p>Sören thought in his own mind that it was a large +sum of money for a poor babe, and hurried to close the +bargain in case the farmer might draw back.</p> + +<p>"But, no gossip, mind you, now. No big talk about +relationship and that kind of thing," said the farmer as +he followed Sören out of the gate. "The child must +take the girl's name—and no claim on us."</p> + +<p>"No, of course not!" said Sören, eager to be off. +He had got the two hundred crowns in his inner pocket, +and was afraid the farmer might demand them back +again.</p> + +<p>"I'll send you down a paper one of these days and +get your receipt for the money," said the farmer. "It +is best to have it fixed up all right and legal."</p> + +<p>He said the word "legal" with such emphasis +and familiarity that Sören was more than a little +startled.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," was all Sören said and slipped into the +porch with his cap between his hands. It was not +often he took his hat off to any one, but the two hundred +crowns had given him respect for the farmer. The +people of Sands farm were a race who, if they did +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +break down their neighbor's fence, always made good +the damage they had done.</p> + +<p>Sören started off and ran over the fields. The money +was more than he and Maren had ever before possessed. +All he had to do now was to lay out the notes +in front of her so as to make a show that she might +be impressed. For Maren had fixed her mind on the +farmer's son.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="I_CHAPTER_III" id="I_CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a><br /> +A Child Is Born</span></h2> + + +<p>There are a milliard and a half of stars in the +heavens, and—as far as we know—a milliard +and a half of human beings on the earth. Exactly +the same number of both! One would almost +think the old saying was right,—that every human +being was born under his own star. In hundreds of +costly observatories all over the world, on plain and +mountain, talented scientists are adjusting the finest +instruments and peering out into the heavens. They +watch and take photographic plates, their whole life +taken up with the one idea: to make themselves immortal +with having discovered a new star. Another +celestial body—added to the milliard and a half already +moving gracefully round.</p> + +<p>Every second a human soul is born into the world. +A new flame is lit, a star which perhaps may come to +shine with unusual beauty, which in any case has its own +unseen spectrum. A new being, fated, perhaps, to bestow +genius, perhaps beauty around it, kisses the earth; +the unseen becomes flesh and blood. No human being +is a repetition of another, nor is any ever reproduced; +each new being is like a comet which only once in all +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +eternity touches the path of the earth, and for a brief +time takes its luminous way over it—a phosphorescent +body between two eternities of darkness. No doubt +there is joy amongst human beings for every newly lit +soul! And, no doubt they will stand round the cradle +with questioning eyes, wondering what this new one +will bring forth.</p> + +<p>Alas, a human being is no star, bringing fame to him +who discovers and records it! More often, it is a +parasite which comes upon peaceful and unsuspecting +people, sneaking itself into the world—through months +of purgatory. God help it, if into the bargain it has +not its papers in order.</p> + +<p>Sörine's little one had bravely pushed itself into the +light of day, surmounting all obstacles, denial, tears +and preventatives, as a salmon springs against the +stream. Now she lay in the daylight, red and wrinkled, +trying to soften all hearts.</p> + +<p>The whole of the community had done with her, she +was a parasite and nothing else. A newly born human +being is a figure in the transaction which implies proper +marriage and settling down, and the next step which +means a cradle and perambulator and—as it grows up—an +engagement ring, marriage and children again. +Much of this procedure is upset when a child like +Sörine's little one is vulgar enough to allow itself to be +born without marriage.</p> + +<p>She was from the very first treated accordingly, without +maudlin consideration for her tender helplessness. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +"Born out of wedlock" was entered on her certificate +of birth which the midwife handed to the schoolmaster +when she had helped the little one into the world, and +the same was noted on the baptismal certificate. It was +as if they all, the midwife, the schoolmaster and the +parson, leaders of the community, in righteous vengeance +were striking the babe with all their might. +What matter if the little soul were begotten by the son +of a farmer, when he refused to acknowledge it, and +bought himself out of the marriage? A nuisance she +was, and a blot on the industrious orderly community.</p> + +<p>She was just as much of an inconvenience to her +mother as to all the others. When Sörine was up and +about again, she announced that she might just as well +go out to service as all her sisters had done. Her fear +of strangers had quite disappeared: she took a place +a little further inland. The child remained with the +grandparents.</p> + +<p>No one in the wide world cared for the little one, not +even the old people for that matter. But all the same +Maren went up into the attic and brought out an old +wooden cradle which had for many years been used +for yarn and all kinds of lumber; Sören put new rockers, +and once more Maren's old, swollen legs had to accustom +themselves to rocking a cradle again.</p> + +<p>A blot the little one was to her grandparents too—perhaps, +when all is said and done, on them alone. +They had promised themselves such great things of the +girl—and there lay their hopes—an illegitimate child +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +in the cradle! It was brought home to them by the +women running to Maren, saying: "Well, how do you +like having little ones again in your old days?" And +by the other fishermen when Sören Man came to the +harbor or the inn. His old comrades poked fun at him +good-naturedly and said: "All very well for him—strong +as a young man and all, Sören, you ought to +stand treat all round."</p> + +<p>But it had to be borne—and, after all, it could be +got over. And the child was—when one got one's hand +in again—a little creature who recalled so much that +otherwise belonged to the past. It was just as if one +had her oneself—in a way she brought youth to the +house.</p> + +<p>It was utterly impossible not to care for such a helpless +little creature.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="I_CHAPTER_IV" id="I_CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a><br /> +Ditte's First Step</span></h2> + + +<p>Strange how often one bears the child while +another cares for it. For old Maren it was not +easy to be a mother again, much as her heart was in +it. The girl herself had got over all difficulties, and +was right away in service in another county; and here +was the babe left behind screaming.</p> + +<p>Maren attended to it as well as she could, procured +good milk and gave it soaked bread and sugar, and did +all she could to make up for its mother.</p> + +<p>Her daughter she could not make out at all. Sörine +rarely came home, and preferably in the evening when +no one could see her; the child she appeared not +to care for at all. She had grown strong and erect, +not in the least like the slender, freckled girl who could +stand next to nothing. Her blood had thickened and +her manners were decided; though that, of course, has +happened before,—an ailing woman transformed by +having a child, as one might say, released from witchcraft.</p> + +<p>Ditte herself did not seem to miss a mother's tender +care: she grew well in spite of the artificial food, and +soon became so big that she could keep wooden shoes +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +on her small feet, and, with the help of old Sören's +hand, walk on the downs. And then she was well +looked after.</p> + +<p>However, at times things would go badly. For +Maren had quite enough of her own work to do, which +could not be neglected, and the little one was everywhere. +And difficult it was suddenly to throw up what +one had in hand—letting the milk boil over and the +porridge burn—for the sake of running after the little +one. Maren took a pride in her housework and found +it hard at times to choose between the two. Then, +God preserve her: the little one had to take her +chance.</p> + +<p>Ditte took it as it came and could be thankful that +she was with her grandparents. She was an inquisitive +little being, eager to meddle with everything; and a +miracle it was that the firewood did not fall down. +Hundreds of times in the day did she get into scrapes, +heedless and thoughtless as she was. She would rush +out, and lucky it was if there was anything to step +on, otherwise she would have fallen down. Her little +head was full of bruises, and she could never learn +to look after herself in spite of all the knocks she got. +It was too bad to be whipped into the bargain! When +the hurt was very bad, Grandfather had to blow it, or +Granny put the cold blade of the bread-knife on the +bruise to make it well again.</p> + +<p>"Better now," said she, turning a smiling face +towards her granny; the tears still hanging on the long +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +lashes, and her cheeks gradually becoming roughened +by them.</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear," answered Maren. "But, Girlie must +take care."</p> + +<p>This was her name in those days, and a real little +girlie she was, square and funny. It was impossible to +be angry with her, although at times she could make +it somewhat difficult for the old ones. Her little head +would not accept the fact that there were things one +was not allowed to do; immediately she got an idea, +her small hands acted upon it. "She's no forethought," +said Sören significantly, "she's a woman. Wonder if a +little rap over the fingers after all wouldn't——"</p> + +<p>But Maren ignored this. Took the child inside with +her and explained, perhaps for the hundredth time, +that Girlie must not do so. And one day she had a +narrow escape. Ditte had been up to mischief as usual +in her careless way. But when she had finished, she +offered her little pouting mouth to the two old ones: +"Kiss me then—and say 'beg pardon'," said she.</p> + +<p>And who could resist her?</p> + +<p>"Now, perhaps, you'll say that she can't be taught +what's right and wrong?" said Maren.</p> + +<p>Sören laughed: "Ay, she first does the thing, and +waits till after to think if it's right or wrong. She'll +be a true woman, right enough."</p> + +<p>At one time Ditte got into the habit of pulling down +and breaking things. She always had her little snub +nose into everything, and being too small to see what +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +was on the table, she pulled it down instead. Sören had +to get a drill and learn to mend earthenware to make up +for the worst of her depredations. A great many +things fell over Ditte without alarming her in the +least.</p> + +<p>"She'll neither break nor bend—she's a woman all +over," said Sören, inwardly rather proud of her power +of endurance. But Maren had to be ever on the watch, +and was in daily fear for the things and the child +herself.</p> + +<p>One day Ditte spilled a basin of hot milk over herself +and was badly scalded; that cured her of inquisitiveness. +Maren put her to bed and treated her burns with egg-oil +and slices of new potato; and it was some time +before Ditte was herself again. But when she was +again about, there was not so much as a scar to be +seen. This accident made Maren famous as a curer +of burns and people sought her help for their injuries. +"You're a wise one," said they, and gave her bacon +or fish by way of thanks. "But 'tis not to be wondered +at, after all."</p> + +<p>The allusion to the fact that her mother had been +a "wise woman" did not please Maren at all. But +the bacon and the herrings came to an empty cupboard, +and—as Sören said: "Beggars cannot be choosers and +must swallow their pride with their food."</p> + +<p>Ditte shot up like a young plant, day by day putting +forth new leaves. She was no sooner in the midst of +one difficult situation, and her troubled grandparents, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +putting their heads together, had decided to take strong +measures, than she was out of it again and into something +else. It was just like sailing over a flat bottom—thought +Sören—passing away under one and making +room for something new. The old ones could not help +wondering if they themselves and their children had +ever been like this. They had never thought of it +before, having had little time to spend on their offspring +beyond what was strictly necessary; the one had quite +enough to do in procuring food and the other in keeping +the home together. But now they could not <i>help</i> +thinking; however much they had to do, and they +marveled much over many things.</p> + +<p>"'Tis strange how a bit of a child can open a body's +eyes, for all one's old. Ay, there's a lot to learn," said +Maren.</p> + +<p>"Stupid," said Sören. From his tone it could be +gathered that he himself had been thinking the same.</p> + +<p>Ditte was indeed full of character. Little as she had +had to inherit, she nevertheless was richly endowed; +her first smile brought joy; her feeble tears, sorrow. A +gift she was, born out of emptiness, thrown up on the +beach for the wornout old couple. No one had done +anything to deserve her,—on the contrary, all had done +their utmost to put her out of existence. Notwithstanding, +there she lay one day with blinking eyes, blue +and innocent as the skies of heaven. Anxiety she +brought from the very beginning, many footsteps had +trodden round her cradle, and questioning thoughts +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +surrounded her sleep. It was even more exciting when +she began to take notice; when only a week old she +knew their faces, and at three she laughed to Sören. +He was quite foolish that day and in the evening had +to go down to the <a class="corr" name="TC_1" id="TC_1" title="taproom">tap-room</a> to tell them all about it. +Had any one ever known such a child? She could laugh +already! And when she first began to understand play, +it was difficult to tear oneself away—particularly for +Sören. Every other moment he had to go in and caress +her with his crooked fingers. Nothing was so delightful +as to have the room filled with her gurgling, and +Maren had to chase him away from the cradle, at least +twenty times a day. And when she took her first +toddling steps!—that little helpless, illegitimate child +who had come defiantly into existence, and who, in return +for life brightened the days of the two old wornout +people. It had become pleasant once more to wake +in the morning to a new day: life was worth living +again.</p> + +<p>Her stumbling, slow walk was in itself a pleasure; +and the contemplative gravity with which she crossed +the doorstep, both hands full, trotted down the road—straight +on as if there was nothing behind her, and +with drooping head—was altogether irresistible. Then +Maren would slink out round the corner and beckon to +Sören to make haste and come, and Sören would throw +down his ax and come racing over the grass of the +downs with his tongue between his lips. "Heaven only +knows what she is up to now," said he, and the two crept +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +after her down the road. When she had wandered a +little distance, in deep thought, she would suddenly +realize her loneliness, and begin to howl, a picture of +misery, left alone and forsaken. Then the two old +people would appear on the scene, and she would throw +herself into their arms overjoyed at finding them again.</p> + +<p>Then quite suddenly she got over it—the idea that +things were gone forever if she lost sight of them for +a moment. She began to look out and up into people's +faces: hitherto, she had only seen the feet of those who +came within her horizon. One day she actually went +off by herself, having caught sight of the houses down +in the hamlet. They had to look after her more seriously +now that the outside world had tempted her.</p> + +<p>"We're not enough for her, seems like," said Sören +despondently, "got a fancy for the unknown already."</p> + +<p>It was the first time she had turned away from +them, and Sören recognized in that something of what +he had experienced before, and for a moment a feeling +of loneliness came over him. But Maren, wise as she +had grown since the coming of the little one, again +found a way. She threw her kerchief over her head +and went down to the hamlet with Ditte, to let her +play with other children.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="I_CHAPTER_V" id="I_CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a><br /> +Grandfather Strikes Out Afresh</span></h2> + + +<p>All that Sören possessed—with the exception of +the house—was a third share in a boat and gear. +He had already, before Ditte came into the world, +let out his part of the boat to a young fisher boy +from the hamlet, who having no money to buy a share +in a boat repaid Sören with half of his catch. It +was not much, but he and Maren had frugal habits, +and as to Sören, she occasionally went out to work +and helped to make ends meet. They just managed to +scrape along with their sixth share of the catch, and +such odd jobs as Sören could do at home.</p> + +<p>Once again there was a little one to feed and clothe. +For the present, of course, Ditte's requirements were +small, but her advent had opened out new prospects. +It was no good now to be content with toiling the time +away, until one's last resting-place was reached, patiently +thinking the hut would pay for the burial. It +was not sufficient to wear out old clothes, eat dried fish, +and keep out of the workhouse until they were well +under the ground. Sören and Maren were now no +longer at the end of things, there was one in the cradle +who demanded everything from the beginning, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +spurred them on to new efforts. It would never do to +let their infirmity grow upon them or allow themselves +to become pensioners on what a sixth share of a boat +might happen to bring home. Duty called for a new +start.</p> + +<p>The old days had left their mark on them both. +They came into line with the little one, even her childish +cries under the low ceiling carried the old couple a +quarter of a century back, to the days when the weight +of years was not yet felt, and they could do their work +with ease. And once there, the way to still earlier +days was not so far—to that beautiful time when +tiredness was unknown, and Sören after a hard day's +work would walk miles over the common, to where +Maren was in service, stay with her until dawn, and +then walk miles back home again, to be the first man at +work.</p> + +<p>Inevitably they were young again! Had they not a +little one in the house? A little pouting mouth was +screaming and grunting for milk. Sören came out of +his old man's habit, and turned his gaze once more +towards the sea and sky. He took back his share in the +boat and went to sea again.</p> + +<p>Things went tolerably well to begin with. It was +summer time when Ditte had pushed him back to his +old occupation again; it was as if she had really given +the old people a second youth. But it was hard to keep +up with the others, in taking an oar and pulling up +nets by the hour. Moreover in the autumn when the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +herrings were deeper in the sea, the nets went right +down, and were often caught by the heavy undertow, +Sören had not strength to draw them up like the other +men, and had to put up with the offer of lighter work. +This was humiliating; and even more humiliating was +it to break down from night watches in the cold, when +he knew how strong he had been in days gone by.</p> + +<p>Sören turned to the memories of old days for support, +that he might assert himself over the others. Far +and wide he told tales of his youth, to all who would +listen.</p> + +<p>In those days implements were poor, and clothes +were thin, and the winter was harder than now. There +was ice everywhere, and in order to obtain food they +had to trail over the ice with their gear on a wooden +sledge right out to the great channel, and chop holes +to fish through. Woollen underclothing was unknown, +and oilskins were things none could afford; a pair of +thick leather trousers were worn—with stockings and +wooden shoes. Often one fell in—and worked on in +wet clothes, which were frozen so stiff that it was impossible +to draw them off.</p> + +<p>To Sören it was a consolation to dwell upon all this, +when he had to give up such strenuous work as the +rowing over to the Swedish coast, before he could get a +good catch. There he would sit in the stern feeling +small and useless, talking away and fidgeting with the +sails in spite of the lack of wind. His partners, toiling +with the heavy oars, hardly listened to him. It was all +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +true enough, they knew that from their fathers, but it +gained nothing in being repeated by Sören's toothless +mouth. His boasting did not make the boat any lighter +to pull; old Sören was like a stone in the net.</p> + +<p>Maren was probably the only one, who at her own +expense could afford to give a helping hand. She saw +how easily he became tired, try as he would to hide +it from her—and she made up her mind to trust in +Providence for food. It was hard for him to turn +out in the middle of the night, his old limbs were as +heavy as lead, and Maren had to help him up in bed.</p> + +<p>"'Tis rough tonight!" said she, "stay at home and +rest." And the next night she would persuade him +again, with another excuse. She took care not to +suggest that he should give up the sea entirely; Sören +was stubborn and proud. Could she only keep him at +home from time to time, the question would soon be +decided by his partners.</p> + +<p>So Sören remained at home first one day and then +another; Maren said that he was ill. He fell easily +into the trap, and when this had gone on for some +little time, his partners got tired of it, and forced him +to sell his part of the boat and implements. Now that +he was driven to remain at home, he grumbled and +scolded, but settled down to it after a while. He busied +himself with odd jobs, patched oilskins and mended +wooden shoes for the fishermen and became quite brisk +again. Maren could feel the improvement, when he +good-naturedly began to chaff her again as before. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<p>He was happiest out on the downs, with Ditte holding +his hand, looking after the sheep. Sören could +hardly do without the little one; when she was not +holding his hand, he felt like a cripple without his staff. +Was it not he whom she had chosen for her first smile, +when but three weeks old! And when only four or five +months old dropped her comforter and turned her +head on hearing his tottering steps.</p> + +<p>"'Tis all very well for you," said Maren half annoyed. +"'Tis you she plays with, while I've the looking +after and feeding of her; and that's another thing." +But in her heart she did not grudge him first place with +the little one; after all he was the man—and needed +a little happiness.</p> + +<p>There was no one who understood Ditte as did her +grandfather. They two could entertain each other by +the hour. They spoke about sheep and ships and trees, +which Ditte did not like, because they stood and made +the wind blow. Sören explained to her that it was +God who made the wind blow—so that the fishermen +need not toil with their oars so much. Trees on the +contrary did no work at all and as a punishment God +had chained them to the spot.</p> + +<p>"What does God look like?" asked Ditte. The +question staggered Sören. There he had lived a long +life and always professed the religion taught him in +childhood; at times when things looked dark, he had +even called upon God; nevertheless, it had never occurred +to him to consider what the good God really +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +looked like. And here he was confounded by the words +of a little child, exactly as in the Bible.</p> + +<p>"God?" began Sören hesitating on the word, to gain +time. "Well, He's both His hands full, He has. And +even so it seems to us others, that at times He's taken +more upon Himself than He can do—and that's what +He looks like!"</p> + +<p>And so Ditte was satisfied.</p> + +<p>To begin with Sören talked most, and the child listened. +But soon it was she who led the conversation, +and the old man who listened entranced. Everything +his girlie said was simply wonderful, and all of it +worth repetition, if only he could remember it. Sören +remembered a good deal, but was annoyed with himself +when some of it escaped his memory.</p> + +<p>"Never knew such a child," said he to Maren, when +they came in from their walk. "She's different from +our girls somehow."</p> + +<p>"Well, you see she's the child of a farmer's son," +answered Maren, who had never got over the greatest +disappointment of her life, and eagerly caught at anything +that might soften it.</p> + +<p>But Sören laughed scornfully and said: "You're a +fool, Maren, and that's all about it."</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="I_CHAPTER_VI" id="I_CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a><br /> +The Death Of Sören Man</span></h2> + + +<p>One day Sören came crawling on all fours over +the doorstep. Once inside, he stumbled to his +feet and moved with great difficulty towards the +fireplace, where he clung with both hands to the +mantelpiece, swaying to and fro and groaning pitifully +the while. He collapsed just as Maren came in from +the kitchen, she ran to him, got off his clothes and put +him to bed.</p> + +<p>"Seems like I'm done for now," said Sören, when he +had rested a little.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong with you, Sören?" asked Maren +anxiously.</p> + +<p>"'Tis naught but something's given inside," said +Sören sullenly.</p> + +<p>He refused to say more, but Maren got out of him +afterwards that it had happened when drawing the +tethering-peg out of the ground. Usually it was loose +enough. But today it was firm as a rock, as if some +one was holding it down in the earth. Sören put the +tethering-rope round his neck and pulled with all his +might, it did give way; but at the same time something +seemed to break inside him. Everything went dark, +and a big black hole appeared in the earth. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<p>Maren gazed at him with terror. "Was 't square?" +asked she.</p> + +<p>Sören thought it was square.</p> + +<p>"And what of Girlie?" asked Maren suddenly.</p> + +<p>She had disappeared when Sören fainted.</p> + +<p>Maren ran out on the hills with anxious eyes. She +found Ditte playing in the midst of a patch of wild +pansies, fortunately Maren could find no hole in the +ground. But the old rotten rope had parted. Sören, +unsteady on his feet, had probably fallen backwards +and hurt himself. Maren knotted the rope together +again and went towards the little one. "Come along, +dearie," said she, "we'll go home and make a nice cup +of coffee for Grandad." But suddenly she stood transfixed. +Was it not a cross the child had plaited of +grass, and set among the pansies? Quietly Maren took +the child by the hand and went in. Now she knew.</p> + +<p>Sören stayed in bed. There was no outward hurt to +be seen, but he showed no inclination to get up. He +hardly slept at all, but lay all day long gazing at the +ceiling, and fumbling with the bedclothes.</p> + +<p>Now and then he groaned, and Maren would hurry +to his side. "What ails you, Sören, can't you tell me?" +said she earnestly.</p> + +<p>"Ails me? Nothing ails me, Maren, but death," +answered Sören. Maren would have liked to try her +own remedies on him, but might just as well spare her +arts for a better occasion; Sören had seen a black hole +in the ground; there was no cure for that. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + +<p>So matters stood. Maren knew as well as he, that +this was the end; but she was a sturdy nature, and never +liked to give in. She would have wrestled with God +himself for Sören, had there been anything definite to +fight about. But he was fading away, and for this there +was no cure; though if only the poison could be got out +of his blood, he might even yet be strong again.</p> + +<p>"Maybe 'tis bleeding you want."</p> + +<p>But Sören refused to be bled. "Folks die quickly +enough without," said he, incredulous as he had always +been. Maren was silent and went back to her work +with a sigh. Sören never did believe in anything, he +was just as unbelieving as he had been in his young days—if +only God would not be too hard on him.</p> + +<p>At first Sören longed to have the child with him +always, and every other minute Maren had to bring her +to the bedside. The little one did not like to sit quietly +on a chair beside Grandad's bed, and as soon as she +saw a chance of escape, off she would run. This was +hardest of all to Sören, he felt alone and forsaken, +all was blackness and despair.</p> + +<p>Before long, however, he lost all interest in the child, +as he did in everything else. His mind began to wander +from the present back to bygone days; Maren knew +well what it meant. He went further and still further +back to his youth and childhood. Strange it was how +much he could remember things which otherwise had +been forgotten. And it was not rambling nonsense +that he talked, but all true enough; people older than he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +who came from the hamlet to visit him confirmed it, +and wondered at hearing him speak of events that +must have happened when he was but two or three +years old. Sören forgot the latter years of his life, +indeed he might never have lived them so completely +had they faded from his mind.</p> + +<p>This saddened Maren. They had lived a long life, +and gone through so much together, and how much +more pleasant it would have been, if they could have +talked of the past together once more before they +parted. But Sören would not listen, when it came to +their mutual memories. No, the garden on the old +farm—where Sören lived when five years old—that he +could remember! Where this tree stood, and that—and +what kind of fruit it bore.</p> + +<p>And when he had gone as far back as he could +remember, his mind would wander forward again, +and in his delirium he would rave of his days as a +shepherd boy or sailor boy and heaven knows +what.</p> + +<p>In his uneasy dreams he mixed up all his experiences, +the travels of his youth, his work and difficulties. At +one minute he would be on the sea furling sail in the +storm, the next he would struggle with the ground. +Maren who stood over him listened with terror to all +that he toiled with; he seemed to be taking his life in +one long stride. Many were the tribulations he had +been through, and of which she now heard for the +first time. When his mind cleared once more, he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +would be worn out with beads of perspiration standing +on his forehead.</p> + +<p>His old partners came to see him, and then they went +through it again—Sören <i>had</i> to talk of old times. He +could only say a few words, weak as he was; but then +the others would continue. Maren begged them not +to speak too much, as it made him restless, and he +would struggle with it in his dreams.</p> + +<p>It was worst when he imagined himself on the old +farm; pitiful to see how he fought against the sea's +greedy advance, clutching the bedclothes with his +wasted fingers. It was a wearisome leave-taking with +existence, as wearisome as existence itself had been to +him.</p> + +<p>One day when Maren had been to the village shop, +Ditte ran out screaming, as she came back. "Grandad's +dead!" she burst out sobbing. Sören lay bruised +and senseless across the doorstep to the kitchen. He +had been up on the big chest, meddling with the hands +of the clock. Maren dragged him to bed and bathed +his wounds, and when it was done he lay quietly following +her movements with his eyes. Now and then he +would ask in a low voice what the time was, and from +this Maren knew that he was nearing his end.</p> + +<p>On the morning of the day he died he was altogether +changed again. It was as if he had come home to take +a last farewell of everybody and everything; he was +weak but quite in his senses. There was so much he +wanted to touch upon once again. His talk jumped +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +from one thing to another and he seemed quite happy. +For the first time for many months he could sit on the +edge of the bed drinking his morning coffee, chatting to +Maren whenever she came near. He was exactly like a +big child, and Maren could not but put his old head +to hers and caress it. "You've worn well, Sören," +said she, stroking his hair—"your hair's as soft as +when we were young."</p> + +<p>Sören fell back, and lay with her hand in his, gazing +silently at her with worship in his faded eyes. "Maren, +would you let down your hair for me?" he whispered +bashfully at last. The words came with some difficulty.</p> + +<p>"Nay, but what nonsense!" said Maren, hiding her +face against his chest; "we're old now, you know, +dear."</p> + +<p>"Let down your hair for me!" whispered he, persisting, +and tried with shaking fingers to loosen it himself. +Maren remembered an evening long ago, an +evening behind a drawn-up boat on the beach, and with +sobs she loosened her gray hair and let it fall down over +Sören's head, so that it hid their faces. "It's long and +thick," he whispered softly, "enough to hide us both." +The words came as an echo from their bygone youth.</p> + +<p>"Nay, nay," said Maren, crying, "it's gray and thin +and rough. But how fond you were of it once."</p> + +<p>With closed eyes Sören lay holding Maren's hand. +There was much to do in the kitchen, and she tried +again and again to draw her hand away, but he opened +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +his eyes each time, so she sat down, letting the things +look after themselves, and there she was with the +tears running down her furrowed face, while her +thoughts ran on. She and Sören had <a class="corr" name="TC_2" id="TC_2" title="live">lived</a> happily +together; they had had their quarrels, but if anything +serious happened, they always faced it together; neither +of them had lived and worked for themselves only. It +was so strange that they were now to be separated, +Maren could not understand it. Why could they not +be taken together? Where Sören went, Maren felt she +too should be. Perhaps in the place where he was +going he needed no one to mend his clothes and to +see that he kept his feet dry, but at least they might +have walked hand in hand in the Garden of Eden. +They had often talked about going into the country +to see what was hidden behind the big forest. But it +never came to anything, as one thing or another always +kept Maren at home. How beautiful it would have +been to go with Sören now; Maren would willingly have +made the journey with him, to see what was on the +other side—had it not been for Ditte. A child had +always kept her back, and thus it was now. Maren's +own time was not yet; she must wait, letting Sören go +alone.</p> + +<p>Sören now slept more quietly, and she drew her +hand gently out of his. But as soon as she rose, he +opened his eyes, gazing at Maren's loosened hair and +tear-stained face.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, Maren," said he, "you and Ditte'll get +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +on all right. But do this for me, put up your hair as +you did at our wedding, will you, Maren?"</p> + +<p>"But I can't do it myself, Sören," answered the old +woman, overwhelmed and beginning to cry again. But +Sören held to his point.</p> + +<p>Then Maren gave in, and as she could not leave +Sören alone for long, she ran as fast as she could to the +hamlet, where one of the women dressed her thin gray +hair in bridal fashion. On her return she found Sören +restless, but he soon calmed down; he looked at her a +long time, as she sat crying by the bed with his hand +in hers. He was breathing with much difficulty.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly he spoke in a stronger voice than he +had done for many days.</p> + +<p>"We've shared good and bad together, Maren—and +now it's over. Will you be true to me for the +time you have left?" He rose on his elbow, looking +earnestly into her face.</p> + +<p>Maren dried her bleared eyes, and looked faithfully +into his. "Ay," she said slowly and firmly—"no one +else has ever been in my thought nor ever shall be. +'Tis Christ Himself I take as a witness, you can trust +me, Sören."</p> + +<p>Sören then fell back with closed eyes, and after a +while his hand slipped out of hers.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="I_CHAPTER_VII" id="I_CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a><br /> +The Widow And The Fatherless</span></h2> + + +<p>After Sören's death there were hard days in +store for the two in the hut on the Naze. +Feeble as he had been, yet he had always +earned something, and had indeed been their sheet +anchor. They were now alone, with no man to work +for them. Not only had Maren to make things go as +far as possible, but she had to find the money as well. +This was a task she had never done before.</p> + +<p>All they had once received for their share in the +boat and its fittings had gone too; and the funeral took +what was left. Their affairs could be settled by every +one, and at the time of Sören's death there was much +multiplying and subtracting in the homes round about +on Maren's behalf. But to one question there was no +answer; what had become of the two hundred crowns +paid for Ditte for once and for all? Ay, where had +they gone? The two old people had bought nothing +new at that time, and Sören had firmly refused to invest +in a new kind of fishing-net—an invention tried in other +places and said to be a great success. Indeed, there +were cases where the net had paid for itself in a single +night. However, Sören would not, and as so much +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +money never came twice to the hamlet in one generation, +they carried on with their old implements as usual.</p> + +<p>The money had certainly not been used, nor had it +been eaten up, that was understood. The two old folk +had lived exactly as before, and it would have been +known if the money had gone up through the chimney. +There was no other explanation, than that Maren had +put it by; probably as something for Ditte to fall back +upon, when the two old ones had gone.</p> + +<p>There was a great deal of talking in the homes, +mostly of how Maren and Ditte were to live. But with +that, their interest stopped. She had grown-up children +of her own, who were her nearest, and ought to +look after her affairs. One or two of them turned up +at the funeral, more to see if there was anything to be +had, and as soon as Sören was well underground they +left, practically vanishing without leaving a trace, and +with no invitation to Maren, who indeed hardly found +out where they lived. Well, Maren was not sorry to +see the last of them. She knew, in some measure, the +object of her children's homecoming; and for all she +cared they might never tread that way again—if only +she might keep Ditte. Henceforth they were the only +two in the world.</p> + +<p>"They might at least have given you a helping +hand," said the women of the hamlet—"after all, +you're their mother."</p> + +<p>"Nay, why so," said Maren. They had used her as +a pathway to existence—and it had not always been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +easy; perhaps they did not thank her for their being +here on earth, since they thought they owed her nothing. +One mother can care for eight children if necessary, but +has any one ever heard of eight children caring for +one mother? No, Maren was thankful they kept away, +and did not come poking round their old home.</p> + +<p>She tried to sell the hut and the allotment in order to +provide means, but as no buyers offered for either, she +let the hut to a workman and his family, only keeping +one room and an end of the kitchen for herself. After +settling this she studded her own and the child's wooden +shoes with heavy nails. She brought forth Sören's +old stick, wrapped herself and the little one well up—and +wandered out into the country.</p> + +<p>Day after day, in all weathers, they would set out in +the early morning, visiting huts and farms. Maren +knew fairly well for whom Sören had worked, and it +was quite time they paid their debts. She never asked +directly for the money, but would stand just inside the +door with the child in front of her, rattling a big leather +purse such as fisher folk used, and drone:</p> + +<p>"God bless your work and your food—one and +all for sure! Times is hard—ay, money's scarce—ay, +'tis dear to live, and folks get old! And all's to be +bought—fat and meat and bread, ay, every scrap!—faith, +an old wife needs the money!"</p> + +<p>Although Maren only asked for what was her due, +it was called begging, when she went on this errand, and +she and the child were treated accordingly. They often +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +stood waiting in the scullery or just inside the living +room, while every one ran to and fro to their work +without appearing to notice them. People must be +taught their proper place, and nothing is so good as +letting them stand waiting, and that without any reason. +If they are not crushed by this, something must be +wrong.</p> + +<p>Maren felt the slight, and the smart went deep; but +in no way shook her purpose—inwardly she was furious, +though too wise to show it, and, old as she was, +quietly added experience to experience. Perhaps after +all it was the child who made it easier for her to submit +to circumstances. So that was how she was treated +when she needed help! But when they themselves +needed help, it was a different matter; they were not +too proud to ask <i>her</i> advice. Then they would hurry +down to her, often in the middle of the night, knocking +at the window with the handle of a whip; she <i>must</i> +come, and that at once.</p> + +<p>Maren was not stupid, and could perfectly well put +two and two together, only neglecting what she had no +use for. As long as Sören was by her side and held the +reins, she had kept in the background, knowing that +one master in the house was quite enough; and only on +special occasions—when something of importance was +at stake—would she lend a guiding hand, preferably +so unostentatiously that Sören never noticed it.</p> + +<p>Blockhead, he used to call her—right up to his +illness. About a week before his death they had spoken +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +of the future, and Sören had comforted Maren by saying: +"'Twill all be right for you, Maren—if but you +weren't such a blockhead."</p> + +<p>For the first time Maren had protested against this, +and Sören, as was his wont, referred to the case of +Sörine: "Ay, and did you see what was wrong with +the girl, what all saw who set eyes on her? And was +it not yourself that fed her with soft soap and paraffin?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe 'twas," answered Maren, unmoved.</p> + +<p>Sören looked at her with surprise: well to be sure—but +behind her look of innocence gleamed something +which staggered him for once. "Ay, ay," said he. +"Ay, ay! 'twas nigh jail that time."</p> + +<p>Maren good-naturedly blinked her heavy eyelids. +"'Tis too good some folks are to be put there," +answered she.</p> + +<p>Sören felt as if cold water were running down his +back; here had he lived with Maren by his side for +forty-five years, and never taken her for anything else +but a good-natured blockhead—and he had nearly gone +to his grave with that opinion. And perhaps after all it +was she who had mastered him, and that by seeming a +fool herself.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="I_CHAPTER_VIII" id="I_CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a><br /> +Wise Maren</span></h2> + + +<p>The heavy waves crashed on the shore. Large +wet flakes of snow hurled themselves on bushes +and grass; what was not caught by the high cliffs +was frozen to ice in the air and chased before the +storm.</p> + +<p>The sea was foaming. The skies were all one great +dark gray whirl, with the roaring breakers beneath. +It was as if the abyss itself threw out its inexhaustible +flood of cold and wickedness. Endlessly it mounted +from the great deep; dense to battle against, and as +fire of hell to breathe.</p> + +<p>Two clumsy figures worked their way forward over +the sandhills, an old grandmother holding a little girl +by the hand. They were so muffled up, that they +could hardly be distinguished in the thick haze.</p> + +<p>Their movements were followed by watchful eyes, in +the huts on the hills women stood with faces pressed +flat against the window-panes! "'Tis wise Maren +battling against the storm," they told the old and the +sick within. And all who could, crawled to the window. +They must see for themselves. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Tis proper weather for witches to be out," said +youth, and laughed. "But where is her broomstick?"</p> + +<p>The old ones shook their heads. Maren ought not +to be made fun of; she had the <i>Gift</i> and did much good. +Maybe that once or twice she had misused her talents—but +who would not have done the same in her place? +On a day like this she would be full of power; it would +have been wise to consult her.</p> + +<p>The two outside kept to the path that ran along the +edge of the steep cliff, hollowed out in many places by +the sea. Beneath them thundered the surf, water and +air and sand in one yellow ferment, and over it seagulls +and other sea birds, shrieking and whipping the +air with their wings. When a wave broke they would +swoop down and come up again with food in their +beaks—some fish left stunned by the waves to roll about +in the foam.</p> + +<p>It seemed foolish of the two keeping just inside the +edge of the cliff, against which the storm was throwing +itself with all its might, to fall down well inland. The +old woman and the child clung to each other, gasping +for breath.</p> + +<p>At one place the path went through a thicket of +thorns, bent inland by the strong sea wind, and here +they took shelter from the storm to regain their breath. +Ditte whimpered, she was tired and hungry.</p> + +<p>"Be a big girl," said the old one, "we'll soon be +home now." She drew the child towards her under +the shawl, with shaking hands brushing the snow from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +her hair, and blowing her frozen fingers. "Ay, just +big," she said encouragingly, "and you'll get cakes +and nice hot coffee when we get home. I've the coffee +beans in the bag—ah, just smell!"</p> + +<p>Granny opened the bag, which she had fastened +round her waist underneath her shawl. Into it went +all that she was given, food and other odds and ends.</p> + +<p>The little one poked her nose down into the bag, +but was not comforted at once.</p> + +<p>"We've nothing to warm it with," said she sulkily.</p> + +<p>"And haven't we then? Granny was on the beach +last night, and saw the old boat, she did. But Ditte +was in the land of Nod, and never knew."</p> + +<p>"Is there more firewood?"</p> + +<p>"Hush, child, the coastguard might hear us. He's +long ears—and the Magistrate pays him for keeping +poor folks from getting warm. That's why he himself +takes all that's washed ashore."</p> + +<p>"But you're not frightened of him, Granny, you're +a witch and can send him away."</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, of course Granny can—and more too, if he +doesn't behave. She'll strike him down with rheumatism, +so that he can't move, and have to send for wise +Maren to rub his back. Ah me, old Granny's legs are +full of water, and aches and pains in every limb; a +horrid witch they call her, ay—and a thieving woman +too! But there must be some of both when an old +worn woman has to feed two mouths; and you may +be glad that Granny's the witch she is. None but she +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +cares for you—and lazy, no folks shall ever call her +that. She's two-and-seventy years now, and 'tis for +others her hands have toiled all along. But never a +hand that's lifted to help old Maren."</p> + +<p>They sat well sheltered, and soon Ditte became +sleepy, and they started out again. "We'll fall asleep +if we don't, and then the black man'll come and take +us," said Granny as she tied her shawl round the little +one.</p> + +<p>"Who's the black man?" Ditte stopped, clinging to +her grandmother from very excitement.</p> + +<p>"The black man lives in the churchyard under the +ground. 'Tis he who lets out the graves to the dead +folks, and he likes to have a full house."</p> + +<p>Ditte had no wish to go down and live with a black +man, and tripped briskly along hand in hand with the +old one. The path now ran straight inland, and the +wind was at their back—the storm had abated somewhat.</p> + +<p>When they came to the Sand farm, she refused to go +further. "Let's go in there and ask for something," +said she, dragging her grandmother. "I'm so hungry."</p> + +<p>"Lord—are you mad, child! We daren't set foot +inside there."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll go alone," declared Ditte firmly. She +let go her granny's hand and ran towards the entrance. +When there, however, she hesitated. "And why +daren't we go in there?" she shouted back.</p> + +<p>Maren came and took her hand again: "Because +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +your own father might come and drive us away with a +whip," said she slowly. "Come now and be a good +girl."</p> + +<p>"Are you afraid of him?" asked the little one persistently. +She was not accustomed to seeing her granny +turned aside for anything.</p> + +<p>Afraid, indeed no—the times were too bad for that! +Poor people must be prepared to face all evils and +accept them too. And why should they go out of their +way to avoid the Sand farm as if it were holy ground. +If he did not care to take the chance of seeing his own +offspring occasionally, he could move his farm elsewhere. +They two had done nothing to be shamed into +running away, that was true enough. Perhaps there +was some ulterior motive behind the child's obstinacy? +Maren was not the one to oppose Providence—still less +if it lent her a helping hand.</p> + +<p>"Well, come then!" said she, pushing the gate +open. "They can but eat us."</p> + +<p>They went through the deep porch which served +as wood and tool house as well. At one side turf was +piled neatly up right to the beams. Apparently they +had no thought of being cold throughout the winter. +Maren looked at the familiar surroundings as they +crossed the yard towards the scullery. Once in her +young days she had been in service here—for the sake +of being nearer the home of her childhood and Sören. +It was some years ago, that! The grandfather of the +present young farmer reigned then—a real Tartar who +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +begrudged his servant both food and sleep. But he +made money! The old farmer, who died about the +same time as Sören, was young then, and went with +stocking feet under the servants' windows! He and +Sören cared nought for each other! Maren had +not been here since—Sören would not allow it. +And he himself never set foot inside, since that +dreary visit about Sörine. A promise was a +promise.</p> + +<p>But now it was <i>so</i> long ago, and two hundred crowns +could not last forever. Sören was dead, and Maren +saw things differently in her old days. Cold and hardship +raised her passion, as never before, against those +sitting sheltered inside, who had no need to go hunting +about like a dog in all weathers, and against those who +for a short-lived joy threw years of heavy burden on +poor old shoulders. Why had she waited so long in +presenting his offspring to the farmer? Perhaps they +were longing for it. And why should not the little +one have her own way? Perhaps it was the will of +Providence, speaking through her, in her obstinate +desire to enter her father's house.</p> + +<p>All the same, Maren's conscience was not quite clear +while standing with Ditte beside her, waiting for some +one to come. The farmer apparently was out, and for +that she was thankful. She could hear the servant milking +in the shed, they would hardly have a man at this +time of the year.</p> + +<p>The cracked millstone still lay in front of the door, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +and in the middle of the floor was a large flat tombstone +with ornaments in the corners, the inscription quite +worn away.</p> + +<p>A young woman came from the inner rooms. Maren +had not seen her before. She was better dressed than +the young wives of the neighborhood, and had a kind +face and gentle manners. She asked them into the +living room, took off their shawls, which she hung by +the fire to dry. She then made them sit down and gave +them food and drink, speaking kindly to them all the +while; to Ditte in particular, which softened Maren's +heart.</p> + +<p>"And where do you come from?" asked she, seating +herself beside them.</p> + +<p>"Ay, where do folk come from?" answered Maren +mumblingly. "Where's there room for poor people +like us? Some have plenty—and for all that go where +they have no right to be; others the Lord's given +naught but a corner in the churchyard. But you don't +belong to these parts, since you ask."</p> + +<p>No, the young woman came from Falster; her voice +grew tender as she spoke of her birthplace.</p> + +<p>"Is't far from here?" said Maren, glancing at her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it takes a whole day by train and by coach, and +from the town too!"</p> + +<p>"Has it come to that, that the men of the Sand +farm must travel by train to find wives for themselves? +But the hamlet is good enough for sweethearts." +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<p>The young woman looked uncertainly at her. "We +met each other at the Continuation School," said she.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, has he been to Continuation School +too? Ay, 'tis fine all must be nowadays. Anyway, +'twas time he got settled."</p> + +<p>The young woman flushed. "You speak so +strangely," said she.</p> + +<p>"Belike you'll tell me how an old wife should speak? +'Tis strange indeed that a father sits sheltered at home +while his little one runs barefoot and begs."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" whispered the young woman +anxiously!</p> + +<p>"What the Lord and every one knows, but no-one's +told you. Look you at the child <i>there</i>—faces don't tell +lies, she's the image of her father. If all was fair, +'twould be my daughter sitting here in your stead—ay, +and no hunger and cold for me."</p> + +<p>As she spoke, Maren sucked a ham bone. She had +no teeth, and the fat ran down over her chin and +hands.</p> + +<p>The young woman took out her handkerchief. +"Let me help you, mother," said she, gently drying +her face. She was white to the lips, and her hands +shook.</p> + +<p>Maren allowed herself to be cared for. Her sunken +mouth was set and hard. Suddenly she grasped the +young woman by the hips with her earth-stained hands. +"'Tis light and pure!" she mumbled, making signs +over her. "In childbirth 'twill go badly with you." +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +The woman swayed in her hands and fell to the ground +without a sound; little Ditte began to scream.</p> + +<p>Maren was so terrified by the consequence of her +act, that she never thought of offering help. She tore +down the shawls from the fire and ran out, dragging +the child after her. It was not until they reached the +last house in the hamlet, the lifeboat shed, that she +stopped to wrap themselves up.</p> + +<p>Ditte still shook. "Did you kill her?" asked she.</p> + +<p>The old woman started, alarmed at the word. "Nay, +but of course not. 'Tis nothing to prate about: come +along home," said she harshly, pushing the child. Ditte +was unaccustomed to be spoken to in this manner, and +she hurried along.</p> + +<p>The house was cold as they entered it, and Maren put +the little one straight to bed. Then having gathered +sticks for the fire, she put on water for the coffee, +talking to herself all the while. "Ugh, just so; but +who's to blame? The innocent must suffer, to make +the guilty speak."</p> + +<p>"What did you say, Granny?" asked Ditte from +the alcove.</p> + +<p>"'Twas only I'm thinking your father'll soon find +his way down here after this."</p> + +<p>A trap came hurrying through the dark and stopped +outside. In burst the owner of the Sand farm. There +was no good in store for them; his face was red with +anger and he started abusing them almost before he got +inside the door. Maren had her head well wrapped +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +up against the cold, and pretended to hear nothing. +"Well, well, you're a sight for sore eyes," said she, +smilingly inviting him in.</p> + +<p>"Don't suppose that I've come to make a fuss of +you, you crafty old hag!" stormed Anders Olsen in his +thin cracked voice. "No, I've come to fetch you, I +have, and that at once. So you'd better come!" seizing +her by the arm.</p> + +<p>Maren wrenched herself out of his grasp. "What's +wrong with you?" asked she, staring at him in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Wrong with me?—you dare to ask that, you old +witch, you. Haven't you been up to the farm this +afternoon—dragging the brat with you? though you +were bought and paid to keep off the premises. Made +trouble you have, you old hag, and bewitched my wife, +so she's dazed with pain. But I'll drag you to justice +and have you burned at the stake, you old devil!" +He foamed at the mouth and shook his clenched fist in +her face.</p> + +<p>"So you order folks to be burnt, do you?" said +Maren scornfully. "Then you'd best light up and +stoke up for yourself as well. Seemingly you've taken +more on your back than you can carry."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?" hissed the farmer, +gesticulating, as if prepared at any moment to pounce +upon Maren and drag her to the trap. "Maybe it's a +lie, that you've been to the farm and scared my wife?" +He went threateningly round her, but without touching +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +her. "What have you to do with my back?" shouted +he loudly, with fear in his eyes. "D'you want to bewitch +me too, what?"</p> + +<p>"'Tis nothing with your back I've to do, or yourself +either. But all can see that the miser's cake'll be eaten, +ay, even by crow and raven if need be. Keep your +strength for your young wife—you might overstrain +yourself on an old witch like me. And where'd she be +then, eh?"</p> + +<p>Anders Olsen had come with the intention of throwing +the old witch into the trap and taking her home with +him—by fair means or foul—so that she could undo her +magic on the spot. And there he sat on the woodbox, +his cap between his hands, a pitiful sight. Maren +had judged him aright, there was nothing manly about +him, he fought with words instead of fists. The men +of the Sand farm were a poor breed, petty and grasping. +This one was already bald, the muscles of his +neck stood sharply out, and his mouth was like a tightly +shut purse. It was no enviable position to be his wife; +the miser was already uppermost in him! Already he +was shivering with cold down his back—having forgotten +his fear for his wife in his thought for himself.</p> + +<p>Maren put a cup of coffee on the kitchen table, then +sat down herself on the steps leading to the attic with +a cracked cup between her fingers. "Just you drink +it up," said she, as he hesitated—"there's no-one here +that'll harm you and yours."</p> + +<p>"But you've been home and made mischief," he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +mumbled, stretching out his hand for the cup; he seemed +equally afraid of drinking or leaving the coffee.</p> + +<p>"We've been at the farm we two, 'tis true enough. +The bad storm drove us in, 'twas sore against our +will." Maren spoke placidly and with forbearance. +"And as to your wife, belike it made her ill, and +couldn't bear to hear what a man she's got. A kind and +good woman she is—miles too good for you. She gave +us nought but the best, while you're just longing to burn +us. Ay, ay, 'twould be plenty warm enough then! +For here 'tis cold, and there's no-one to bring a load +of peat to the house."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you'd like <i>me</i> to bring you a load?" +snapped the farmer, closing his mouth like a trap.</p> + +<p>"The child's yours for all that; she's cold and +hungry, work as I may."</p> + +<p>"Well, she was paid for once and for all."</p> + +<p>"Ay, 'twas easy enough for you! Let your own +offspring want; 'tis the only child, we'll hope, the Lord'll +trust you with."</p> + +<p>The farmer started, as if awakened to his senses. +"Cast off your spell from my wife!" he shouted, striking +the table with his hands.</p> + +<p>"I've nought against your wife. But just you see, if +the Lord'll put a child in your care. 'Tis not likely to +me."</p> + +<p>"You leave the Lord alone—and cast off the spell," +he whispered hoarsely, making for the old woman, +"or I'll throttle you, old witch that you are." He was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +gray in the face, and his thin, crooked fingers clutched +the air.</p> + +<p>"Have a care, your own child lies abed and can hear +you." Maren pushed open the door to the inner room. +"D'you hear that, Ditte, your father's going to throttle +me."</p> + +<p>Anders Olsen turned away from her and went +towards the door. He stood a moment fumbling with +the door handle, as if not knowing what he did; then +came back, and sank down on the woodbox, gazing at +the clay floor. He looked uncommonly old and had +always done so ever since his childhood, it was said +people of the Sand farm were always born toothless.</p> + +<p>Maren came and placed herself in front of him. +"Maybe you're thinking of the son your wife should +bear? And maybe seeing him already running by your +side in the fields, just like a little foal, and learning +to hold the plow. Ay! many a one's no son to save +for, but enjoys putting by for all that. And often 'tis +a close-fisted father has a spendthrift son; belike 'tis +the Lord punishing them for their greedy ways. You +may fight on till you break up—like many another one. +Or sell the farm to strangers, when there's no more +work in you—and shift in to the town to a fine little +house! For folks with money there's many a way!"</p> + +<p>The farmer lifted his head. "Cast off your spell +from my wife," he said beseechingly, "and I'll make it +worth your while."</p> + +<p>"On the Sand farm we'll never set foot again, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +neither me nor the child. But you can send your wife +down here—'tis no harm she'll come to, but don't forget +if good's to come of it, on a load of peat she must +ride!"</p> + +<p>Early next morning the pretty young wife from the +Sand farm, could be seen driving through the hamlet +seated on top of a swinging cartload of peat. Apparently +the farmer did not care to be seen with his +wife like this, for he himself was not there; a lad drove +the cart. Many wondered where they were going, +and with their faces against the window-panes watched +them pass. From one or another hut, with no outlook, +a woman would come throwing a shawl over her head as +she hurried towards the Naze. As the lad carried the +peat into Maren's woodshed, and the farmer's wife +unpacked eggs, ham, cakes, butter and many other +good things on the table in the little sitting room, they +came streaming past, staring through the window—visiting +the people in the other part of the house with +one or other foolish excuse. Maren knew quite well +why they came, but it did not worry her any longer. +She was accustomed to people keeping an eye on her +and using her neighbors as a spying ground.</p> + +<p>A few days afterwards the news ran round the +neighborhood that the farmer had begun to take notice +of his illegitimate child—not altogether with a good +will perhaps. Maren was supposed to have had a +hand in the arrangement. No-one understood her long +patience with him; especially as she had right on her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +side. But now it would seem she had tired of it and +had begun casting spells over the farmer's young wife—first +charmed a child into her, and then away again, +according to her will. Some declared Ditte was used +for this purpose—by conjuring her backwards, right +back to her unborn days, so that the child was obliged +to seek a mother, and it was because of this she never +grew properly. Ditte was extraordinarily small for her +age, for all she was never really ill. Probably she +was not allowed to grow as she should do, or she +would be too big to will away to nothing.</p> + +<p>There was much to be said both for and against +having such as wise Maren in the district. That she +was a witch was well known; but as they went she was +in the main a good woman. She never used her talents +in the service of the Devil, that is as far as any one +knew—and she was kind to the poor; curing many a +one without taking payment for it. And as to the +farmer of the Sand farm, he only got what he deserved.</p> + +<p>Maren's fame was established after this. People +have short memories, when it is to their own advantage, +and Anders Olsen was seldom generous to them. There +would be long intervals in between his visits, then suddenly +he would take to coming often. The men of +the Sand farm had always been plagued by witchcraft. +They might be working in the fields, and bending down +to pick up a stone or a weed, when all of a sudden +some unseen deviltry would strike them with such +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +excruciating pains in the back, that they could not +straighten themselves, and had to crawl home on all +fours. There they would lie groaning for weeks, suffering +greatly from doing nothing, and treated by cupping, +leeches and good advice, till one day the pain +would disappear as quickly as it had come. They themselves +put it down to the evil eye of women, who +perhaps felt themselves ignored and took their revenge +in this mean fashion; others thought it was a punishment +from Heaven for having too fat a back. At all +events this was their weak spot, and whenever the +farmer felt a twinge of pain in his back he would hurry +to propitiate wise Maren.</p> + +<p>This was not sufficient to live on, but her fame +increased, and with it her circle of patients.</p> + +<p>Maren herself never understood why she had become +so famous; but she accepted the fact as it was, +and turned it to the best account she could. She took +up one thing or another of what she remembered from +her childhood of her mother's good advice—and left +the rest to look after itself; generally she was guided +by circumstances as to what to say and do.</p> + +<p>Maren had heard so often that she was a witch, +and occasionally believed it herself. Other times she +would marvel at people's stupidity. But she always +thought with a sigh of the days when Sören still lived +and she was nothing more than his "blockhead"—those +were happy days.</p> + +<p>Now she was lonely. Sören lay under the ground, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +and every one else avoided her like the plague, when +they did not require her services. Others met and +enjoyed a gossip, but no one thought of running in to +Maren for a cup of coffee. Even her neighbors kept +themselves carefully away, though they often required +a helping hand and got it too. She had but one living +friend, who looked to her with confidence and who was +not afraid of her—Ditte.</p> + +<p>It was a sad and sorry task to be a wise woman—only +more so as it was not her own choice; but it gave +her a livelihood.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="I_CHAPTER_IX" id="I_CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a><br /> +Ditte Visits Fairyland</span></h2> + + +<p>Ditte was now big enough to venture out alone, +and would often run away from home, without +making Maren uneasy. She needed some one to +play with, and sought for playmates in the hamlet and +the huts at the edge of the forest. But the parents +would call their children in when they saw her coming. +Eventually the children themselves learned to beware +of her; they would throw stones at her when she came +near, and shout nicknames: bastard and witch's brat. +Then she tried children in other places and met the +same fate; at last it dawned upon her that she stood +apart. She was not even sure of the children at home; +just as she was playing with them on the sandhills, making +necklaces and rings of small blue scabious, the +mother would run out and tear the children away.</p> + +<p>She had to learn to play alone and be content with +the society of the things around her; which she did. +Ditte quickly invested her playthings with life; sticks +and stones were all given a part and they were wonderfully +easy to manage. Almost too well behaved, and +Ditte herself sometimes had to put a little naughtiness +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +into them; or they would be too dull. There was an +old wornout wooden shoe of Sören's; Maren had +painted a face on it and given it an old shawl as a +dress. In Ditte's world it took the part of a boy—a +rascal of a boy—always up to mischief and in some +scrape or other. It was constantly breaking things, and +every minute Ditte had to punish it and give it a good +whipping.</p> + +<p>One day she was sitting outside in the sun busily +engaged in scolding this naughty boy of a doll, in a voice +deep with motherly sorrow and annoyance. Maren, +who stood inside the kitchen door cleaning herrings, +listened with amusement. "If you do it once more," +said the child, "we'll take you up to the old witch, and +she'll eat you all up."</p> + +<p>Maren came quickly out. "Who says that?" asked +she, her furrowed face quivering.</p> + +<p>"The Bogie-man says it," said Ditte cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"Rubbish, child, be serious. Who's taught you that? +Tell me at once."</p> + +<p>Ditte tried hard to be solemn. "Bogie-doggie said +it—tomorrow!" bubbling over with mirth.</p> + +<p>No-one could get the better of her; she was bored, +and just invented any nonsense that came into her head. +Maren gave it up and returned to her work quietly and +in deep thought.</p> + +<p>She stood crying over her herrings, with the salt +tears dropping down into the pickle. She often cried +of late, over herself and over the world in general; the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +people treated her as if she were infected with the +plague, poisoning the air round her with their meanness +and hate, while as far as she knew she had always +helped them to the best of her ability. They did not +hesitate in asking her advice when in trouble, though at +the same time they would blame <i>her</i> for having brought +it upon them—calling her every name they could think +of when she had gone. Even the child's <i>innocent</i> lips +called her a witch.</p> + +<p>Since Sören's death sorrow and tears had reddened +Maren's eyes with inflammation and turned her eyelids, +but her neighbors only took it as another sign of her +hardened witchcraft. Her sight was failing too, and +she often had to depend upon Ditte's young eyes; and +then it would happen that the child took advantage of +the opportunity and played pranks.</p> + +<p>Ditte was not bad—she was neither bad nor good. +She was simply a little creature, whose temperament required +change. And so little happened in her world, +that she seized on whatever offered to prevent herself +from being bored to death.</p> + +<p>One day something did happen! From one of the +big farms, lying at the other side of the common, with +woods bounding the sandhills, Maren had received +permission to gather sticks in the wood every Tuesday. +There was not much heat in them, but they were good +enough for making a cup of coffee.</p> + +<p>These Tuesdays were made into picnics. They took +their meals with them, which they enjoyed in some +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +pleasant spot, preferably by the edge of the lake, and +Ditte would sit on the wheelbarrow on both journeys. +When they had got their load, they would pick berries +or—in the autumn—crab-apples and sloes, which were +afterwards cooked in the oven.</p> + +<p>Now Granny was ill, having cried so much that she +could no longer see—which Ditte quite understood—but +the extraordinary part of it was that the water +seemed to have gone to her legs, so that she could not +stand on them. The little one had to trudge all alone +to the forest for the sticks. It was a long way, but to +make up for it, the forest was full of interest. Now +she could go right in, where otherwise she was not +allowed to go, because Granny was afraid of getting +lost, and always kept to the outskirts. There were +singing birds in there, their twittering sounded wonderful +under the green trees, the air was like +green water with rays of light in it, and it +hummed and seethed in the darkness under the +bushes.</p> + +<p>Ditte was not afraid, though it must be admitted she +occasionally shivered. Every other minute she stopped +to listen, and when a dry stick snapped, she started, +thrilled with excitement. She was not bored here, her +little body was brimming over with the wonder of it; +each step brought her fresh experiences full of unknown +solemnity. Suddenly it would jump out at her with a +frightful: pshaw!—exactly as the fire did when Granny +poured paraffin over it—and she would hurry away, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +as quickly as her small feet would carry her, until she +came to an opening in the wood.</p> + +<p>On one of these flights she came to a wide river, with +trees bending over it. It was like a wide stream of +greenness flowing down, and Ditte stood transfixed, in +breathless wonder. The green of the river she quickly +grasped, for this was the color poured down on all +trees—and the river here was the end of the world. +Over on the other side the Lord lived; if she looked +very hard she could just catch a glimpse of his gray +bearded face in a thicket of thorns. But how was all +this greenness made?</p> + +<p>She ran for some distance along the edge of the river, +watching it, until she was stopped by two ladies, so +beautiful that she had never seen anything like them +before. Though there was no rain, and they were +walking under the trees in the shadow, they held parasols, +on which the sun gleamed through the green leaves, +looking like glowing coins raining down on to their +parasols. They kneeled in front of Ditte as if she were +a little princess, lifting her bare feet and peeping under +the soles, as they questioned her.</p> + +<p>Well, her name was Ditte. Ditte Mischief and +Ditte Goodgirl—and Ditte child o' Man!</p> + +<p>The ladies looked at each other and laughed, and +asked her where she lived.</p> + +<p>In Granny's house, of course.</p> + +<p>"What Granny?" asked the stupid ladies again.</p> + +<p>Ditte stamped her little bare foot on the grass: +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Granny! that's blind sometimes 'cos she cries +so much. Ditte's own Granny."</p> + +<p>Then they pretended to be much wiser, and asked her +to go home with them for a little while. Ditte gave +her little hand trustingly to one of them and trotted +along; she did not mind seeing if they lived on the +other side of the river—with the Lord. Then it would +be angels she had met.</p> + +<p>They went along the river; Ditte, impatient with +excitement, thought it would never end. At last they +came to a footbridge, arched across the river. At the +end of the bridge was a barred gate with railings on +each side, which it was impossible to climb over or +under. The ladies opened the gate with a key and +carefully locked it again, and Ditte found herself in +a most beautiful garden. By the path stood +lovely flowers in clusters, red and blue, swaying +their pretty heads; and on low bushes were delicious +large red berries such as she had never tasted +before.</p> + +<p>Ditte knew at once that this was Paradise. She +threw herself against one of the ladies, her mouth red +with the juice of the berries, looking up at her with an +unfathomable expression in her dark blue eyes and +said: "Am I dead now?"</p> + +<p>The ladies laughed and took her into the house, +through beautiful rooms where one walked on thick +soft shawls with one's boots on. In the innermost room +a little lady was sitting in an armchair. She was white-haired +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +and wrinkled and had spectacles on her nose; +and wore a white nightcap in spite of it being the middle +of the day. "This is our Granny!" said one of the +ladies.</p> + +<p>"Grandmother, look, we have caught a little wood +goblin," they shouted into the old lady's ear. Just +think, this Granny was deaf—her own was only +blind.</p> + +<p>Ditte went round peeping inquisitively into the different +rooms. "Where's the Lord?" asked she suddenly.</p> + +<p>"What is the child saying?" exclaimed one of the +ladies. But the one who had taken Ditte by the hand, +drew the little one towards her and said: "The Lord +does not live here, he lives up in Heaven. She thinks +this is Paradise," she added, turning to her sister.</p> + +<p>It worried them to see her running about barefooted, +and they carefully examined her feet, fearing +she might have been bitten by some creeping thing in +the wood. "Why does not the child wear boots?" +said the old lady. Her head shook so funnily when +she spoke, all the white curls bobbed—just like bluebells.</p> + +<p>Ditte had no boots.</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens! do you hear that, Grandmother, +the child has no boots. Have you nothing at all to put +on your feet?"</p> + +<p>"Bogie-man," burst out Ditte, laughing roguishly.</p> + +<p>She was tired now of answering all their questions. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +However, they dragged out of her that she had a pair +of wooden shoes, which were being kept for winter.</p> + +<p>"Then with the help of God she shall have a pair of +my cloth ones," said the old lady. "Give her a pair, +Asta; and take a fairly good pair."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Grandmother," answered one of the +young women—the one Ditte liked best.</p> + +<p>So Ditte was put into the cloth boots. Then she +was given different kinds of food, such as she had never +tasted before, and did not care for either; she kept to +the bread, being most familiar with that—greatly to +the astonishment of the three women.</p> + +<p>"She is fastidious," said one of the young ladies.</p> + +<p>"It can hardly be called that, when she prefers bread +to anything else," answered Miss Asta eagerly. "But +she is evidently accustomed to very plain food, and yet +see how healthy she is." She drew the little one to her +and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"Let her take it home with her," said the old lady, +"such children of nature never eat in captivity. My +husband once captured a little wild monkey down on +the Gold Coast, but was obliged to let it go again +because it refused to eat."</p> + +<p>Then Ditte was given the food packed into a pretty +little basket of red and white straw; a Leghorn hat +was put upon her head, and a large red bow adorned +her breast. She enjoyed all this very much—but suddenly, +remembering her Granny, wanted to go home. +She stood pulling the door handle, and they had to let +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +this amusing little wood goblin out again. Hurriedly +a few strawberries were put into the basket, and off +she disappeared into the wood.</p> + +<p>"I hope she can find her way back again," said Miss +Asta looking after her with dreaming eyes.</p> + +<p>Ditte certainly found her way home. It was fortunate +that in her longing to be there, she entirely forgot +what was in the basket. Otherwise old Maren +would have gone to her grave without ever having +tasted strawberries.</p> + +<p>After that Ditte often ran deep into the forest, in +the hope that the adventure would repeat itself. It had +been a wonderful experience, the most wonderful in her +life. Old Maren encouraged her too. "You just go +right into the thicket," she said. "Naught can harm +you, for you're a Sunday child. And when you get +to the charmed house, you must ask for a pair of +cloth boots for me too. Say that old Granny has water +in her legs and can hardly bear shoes on her feet."</p> + +<p>The river was easily found, but she did not meet +the beautiful ladies again, and the footbridge with the +gate had disappeared. There were woods on the +other side of the river just as on this, the Lord's face +she could no longer find either, look as she might; +Fairyland was no more.</p> + +<p>"You'll see, 'twas naught but a dream," said old +Maren.</p> + +<p>"But, Granny, the strawberries," answered Ditte.</p> + +<p>Ay, the strawberries—that was true enough! Maren +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +had eaten some of them herself, and she had never +tasted anything so delicious either. Twenty times +bigger than wild strawberries, and satisfying too—so +unlike other berries, which only upset one.</p> + +<p>"The dream goblin, who took you to Fairyland, +gave you those so that other folks might taste them +too," said the old one at last.</p> + +<p>And with this explanation they were satisfied.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="I_CHAPTER_X" id="I_CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a><br /> +Ditte Gets A Father</span></h2> + + +<p>On getting up one morning, Maren found her +tenants had gone, they had moved in the middle +of the night. "The Devil has been and fetched them," +she said cheerfully. She was not at all sorry that they +had vanished; they were a sour and quarrelsome +family! But the worst of it was that they owed her +twelve weeks' rent—twelve crowns—which was all she +had to meet the winter with.</p> + +<p>Maren put up a notice and waited for new tenants, +but none offered themselves; the old ones had spread +the rumor that the house was haunted.</p> + +<p>Maren felt the loss of the rent so much more as she +had given up her profession. She would no longer be a +wise woman, it was impossible to bear the curse. "Go +to those who are wiser, and leave me in peace," she +answered, when they came for advice or to fetch her, +and they had to go away with their object unaccomplished, +and soon it was said that Maren had lost her +witchcraft.</p> + +<p>Yes, her strength diminished, her sight was almost +gone, and her legs refused to carry her. She spun and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +knitted for people and took to begging again, Ditte +leading her from farm to farm. They were weary +journeys; the old woman always complaining and leaning +heavily on the child's shoulder. Ditte could not +understand it at all, the flowers in the ditches and a +hundred other things called her, she longed to shake +off the leaden arm and run about alone, Granny's everlasting +wailing filled her with a hopeless loathing. Then +a mischievous thought would seize her. "I can't find +the way, Granny," she would suddenly declare, refusing +to go a step further, or she would slip away, hiding +herself nearby. Maren scolded and threatened for +a while, but as it had no effect, she would sit down +on the edge of the ditch crying; this softened Ditte and +she would hurry back, putting her arms around her +grandmother's neck. Thus they cried together, in +sorrow over the miserable world and joy at having +found each other again.</p> + +<p>A little way inland lived a baker, who gave them a +loaf of bread every week. The child was sent for it +when Maren was ill in bed. Ditte was hungry, and this +was a great temptation, so she always ran the whole +way home to keep the tempter at bay; when she succeeded +in bringing the bread back untouched, she and +her Granny were equally proud. But it sometimes happened +that the pangs of hunger were too strong, and +she would tear out the crump from the side of the warm +bread as she ran. It was not meant to be seen, and +for that reason she took it from the side of the bread—just +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +a little, but before she knew what had happened +the whole loaf was hollowed out. Then she would be +furious, at herself and Granny and everything.</p> + +<p>"Here's the bread, Granny," she would say in an +offhand voice, throwing the bread on the table.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, dear, is it new?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Granny," and Ditte disappeared.</p> + +<p>Thereupon the old woman would sit gnawing the +crust with her sore gums, all the while grumbling at +the child. Wicked girl—she should be whipped. She +should be turned out, to the workhouse.</p> + +<p>To their minds there was nothing worse than the +workhouse; in all their existence, it had been as a sword +over their heads, and when brought forth by Maren, +Ditte would come out from her hiding-place, crying +and begging for pardon. The old woman would cry +too, and the one would soothe the other, until both were +comforted.</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, 'tis hard to live," old Maren would say. +"If you'd but had a father—one worth having. Maybe +you'd have got the thrashings all folks need, and poor +old Granny'd have lived with you instead of begging +her food!"</p> + +<p>Maren had barely finished speaking, when a cart with +a bony old nag in the shafts stopped outside on the +road. A big stooping man with tousled hair and beard +sprang down from the cart, threw the reins over the +back of the nag, and came towards the house. He +looked like a coalheaver. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He's selling herrings," said Ditte, who was kneeling +on a stool by the window. "Shall I let him in?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, just open the door."</p> + +<p>Ditte unbolted the door, and the man came staggering +in. He wore heavy wooden boots, into which his +trousers were pushed; and each step he took rang +through the room, which was too low for him to stand +upright in. He stood looking round just inside the +door; Ditte had taken refuge behind Granny's spinning +wheel. He came towards the living room, holding out +his hand.</p> + +<p>Ditte burst into laughter at his confusion when the +old woman did not accept it. "Why, Granny's blind!" +she said, bubbling over with mirth.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's it? Then it's hardly to be expected that +you could see," he said, taking the old woman's hand. +"Well, I'm your son-in-law, there's news for you." +His voice rang with good-humor.</p> + +<p>Maren quickly raised her head. "Which of the girls +is it?" asked she.</p> + +<p>"The mother of this young one," answered he, aiming +at Ditte with his big battered hat. "It's not what +you might call legal yet; we've done without the +parson till he's needed—so much comes afore that. +But a house and a home we've got, though poor it may +be. We live a good seven miles inland on the other +side of the common—on the <i>sand</i>—folks call it the +'Crow's Nest'!"</p> + +<p>"And what's your name?" asked Maren again. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Lars Peter Hansen, I was christened."</p> + +<p>The old woman considered for a while, then shook +her head. "I've never heard of you."</p> + +<p>"My father was called the hangman. Maybe you +know me now?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, 'tis a known name—if not of the best."</p> + +<p>"Folks can't always choose their own names, or character +either, and must just be satisfied with a clear +conscience. But as I was passing I thought I'd just look +in and see you. When we're having the parson to give +us his blessing, Sörine and me, I'll come with the trap +and fetch the two of you to church. That's if you don't +care to move down to us at once—seems like that would +be best."</p> + +<p>"Did Sörine send the message?" asked Maren suspiciously.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter Hansen mumbled something, which +might be taken for either yes or no.</p> + +<p>"Ay, I thought so, you hit on it yourself, and +thanks to you for your kindness; but we'd better stay +where we are. Though we'd like to go to the wedding. +'Tis eight children I've brought into the world, and nigh +all married now, but I've never been asked to a wedding +afore." Maren became thoughtful. "And +what's your trade?" she asked soon after.</p> + +<p>"I hawk herrings—and anything else to be got. Buy +rags and bones too when folks have any."</p> + +<p>"You can hardly make much at that—for folks wear +their rags as long as there's a thread left—and there's +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +few better off than that. Or maybe they're more well-to-do +in other places?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, 'tis the same there as here, clothes worn out +to the last thread, and bones used until they crumble," +answered the man with a laugh. "But a living's to be +made."</p> + +<p>"Ay, that's so, food's to be got from somewhere! +But you must be hungry? 'Tisn't much we've got to +offer you, though we can manage a cup of coffee, if +that's good enough—Ditte, run along to the baker and +tell him what you've done to the bread, and that we've +got company. Maybe he'll scold you and give you +another—if he doesn't, we'll have to go without next +week. But tell the truth. Hurry up now—and don't +pull out the crump."</p> + +<p>With lingering feet Ditte went out of the door. It +was a hard punishment, and she hung back in the hope +that Granny would relent and let her off fetching the +bread. Pull out the crump—no, never again, today or +as long as she lived. Her ears burned with shame at +the thought that her new father should know her +misdeeds, the baker too would know what a wicked +girl she was to Granny. She would not tell an untruth, +for Granny always said to clear oneself with a lie was +like cutting thistles: cut off the head of one and half a +dozen will spring up in its place. Ditte knew from experience +that lies always came back on one with redoubled +trouble; consequently she had made up her +little mind, that it did not pay to avoid the truth. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lars Peter Hansen sat by the window gazing after +the child, who loitered along the road, and as she +suddenly began to run, he turned to the old woman, +asking: "Can you manage her?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, she's good enough," said Maren from the +kitchen, fumbling with the sticks in trying to light the +fire. "I've no one better to lean on—and don't want it +either. But she's a child, and I'm old and troublesome—so +the one makes up for the other. The foal will +kick backwards, and the old horse will stand. But +'tis dull to spend one's childhood with one that's old and +weak and all."</p> + +<p>Ditte was breathless when she reached the baker's, +so quickly had she run in order to get back as soon as +possible to the big stooping man with the good-natured +growl.</p> + +<p>"Now I've got a father, just like other children," +she shouted breathlessly. "He's at home with Granny—and +he's got a horse and cart."</p> + +<p>"Nay, is that so?" said they, opening their eyes, +"and what's his name?"</p> + +<p>"He's called the rag and bone man!" answered +Ditte proudly.</p> + +<p>And they knew him here! Ditte saw them exchange +glances.</p> + +<p>"Then you belong to a grand family," said the +baker's wife, laying the loaf of bread on the counter—without +realizing that the child had already had her +weekly loaf, so taken up was she with the news. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<p>And Ditte, who was even more so, seized the bread +and ran. Not until she was halfway home did she +remember what she ought to have confessed; it was +too late then.</p> + +<p>Before Lars Peter Hansen left, he presented them +with a dozen herrings, and repeated his promise of +coming to fetch them to the wedding.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="I_CHAPTER_XI" id="I_CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a><br /> +The New Father</span></h2> + + +<p>When Ditte was six months old, she had the bad +habit of putting things into her mouth—everything +went that way. This was the proof whether they +could be eaten or not.</p> + +<p>Ditte laughed when Granny told about it, because +she was so much wiser now. There were things one +could not eat and yet get pleasure from, and other +things which could be eaten, but gave more enjoyment +if one left them alone, content in the thought of how +they would taste if——Then one hugged oneself with +delight at keeping it so much longer. "You're foolish," +said Granny, "eat it up before it goes bad!" +But Ditte understood how to put by. She would dream +over one or other thing she had got: a red apple, for +instance, she would press to her cheek and mouth and +kiss. Or she would hide it and go about thinking of it +with silent devotion. Should she return and find it +spoiled, well, in imagination she had eaten it over and +over again. This was beyond Granny; her helplessness +had made her greedy, and she could never get +enough to eat; now it was she who put everything into +her mouth. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + +<p>But then they had watched the child, for fear she +should eat something which might harm her. More +so Sören. "Not into your mouth!" he often said. +Whereupon the child would gaze at him, take the thing +out of her own mouth and try to put it into his. Was it +an attempt to get an accomplice, or did the little one +think it was because he himself wanted to suck the +thing, that he forbade her? Sören was never quite +clear on this point.</p> + +<p>At all events, Ditte had learned at an early age to +reckon with other people's selfishness. If they gave +good advice or corrected her, it was not so much out +of consideration for her as for their own ends. Should +she meet the bigger girls on the road, and happen to +have an apple in her hand, they would say to her: +"Fling that horrible apple away, or you'll get worms!" +But Ditte no longer threw the apple away; she had +found out that they only picked it up as soon as she had +gone, to eat it themselves. Things were not what they +appeared to be, more often than not there was something +behind what one saw and heard.</p> + +<p>Some people declared, that things really meant for +one were put behind a back—a stick, for instance; it +was always wise to be on the watch.</p> + +<p>With Granny naturally it was not like this. She was +simply Granny through all their ups and downs, and +one need never beware of her. She was only more +whining than she used to be, and could no longer earn +their living. Ditte had to bear the greatest share of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +the burden, and was already capable of getting necessities +for the house; she knew when the farmers were +killing or churning, and would stand barefooted begging +for a little for Granny. "Why don't you get poor +relief?" said some, but gave all the same; the needy +must not be turned away from one's door, if one's +food were to be blessed. But under these new conditions +it was impossible to have any respect for Granny, +who was treated more as a spoiled child, and often corrected +and then comforted.</p> + +<p>"Ay, 'tis all very well for you," said the old woman—"you've +got sight and good legs, the whole world's +afore you. But I've only the grave to look forward +to."</p> + +<p>"Do you want to die?" asked Ditte, "and go to +old Grandfather Sören?"</p> + +<p>Indeed, no, Granny did not wish to die. But she +could not help thinking of the grave; it drew her and +yet frightened her. Her tired limbs were never really +rested, and a long, long sleep under the green by Sören's +side was a tempting thought, if only one could be sure +of not feeling the cold. Yes, and that the child was +looked after, of course.</p> + +<p>"Then I'll go over to my new father," declared +Ditte whenever it was spoken of. Granny need have +no fear for her. "But do you think Grandfather +Sören's still there?"</p> + +<p>Yes, that was what old Maren was not quite sure +of herself. She could so well imagine the grave as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +the end of everything, and rest peacefully with that +thought; oh! the blissfulness of laying one's tired +head where no carts could be heard, and to be free for +all eternity from aches and pains and troubles, and +only rest. Perhaps this would not be allowed—there +was so much talking: the parson said one thing and +the lay preacher another. Sören might not be there any +longer, and she would have to search for him till she +found him, which would be difficult enough if after +death he had been transformed to youth again. Sören +had been wild and dissipated. Where he was, Maren +must also be, there was no doubt about that. But she +preferred to have it arranged so that she could have +a long rest by Sören's side, as a reward for all those +weary years.</p> + +<p>"Then I'll go to my new father!" repeated Ditte. +This had become her refrain.</p> + +<p>"Ay, just as ye like!" answered Maren harshly. +She did not like the child taking the subject so calmly.</p> + +<p>But Ditte needed some one who could secure her +future. Granny was no good, she was too old and +helpless, and she was a woman. There ought to be a +man! And now she had found him. She lay down to +sleep behind Granny with a new feeling now; she had +a real father, just like other children, one who was +married to her mother, and in addition possessed a +horse and cart. The bald young owner of the Sand +farm, who was so thin and mean that he froze everybody +near him, she never took to, he was too cold +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +for that. But the rag and bone man had taken her +on his knee and shouted in her ear with his big blustering +voice. They might shout "brat" after her as +much as they liked, for all she cared. She had a father +taller than any of theirs, he had to bend his head when +he stood under the beams in Granny's sitting room.</p> + +<p>The outlook was so much better now, one fell asleep +feeling richer and woke again—not disappointed as +when one had dreamt—but with a feeling of security. +Such a father was much better to depend upon, than an +old blind Granny, who was nothing but a bundle of +rags. Every night when Granny undressed, Ditte was +equally astonished at seeing her take off skirt after +skirt, getting thinner and thinner until, as if by witchcraft, +nothing was left of the fat grandmother but a +skeleton, a withered little crone, who wheezed like the +leaky bellows by the fireplace.</p> + +<p>They looked forward to the day when the new father +would come and fetch them to the wedding. Then of +course it would be in a grand carriage—the other one +was only a cart. It would happen when they were most +wearied with life, not knowing where to turn for food +or coffee. Suddenly they would hear the cheerful crack +of a whip outside, and there he would stand, saluting +with his whip, the rascal; and as they got into the carriage, +he would sit at attention with his whip—like the +coachman on the estate.</p> + +<p>Maren, poor soul, had never seen a carriage at her +door; she was almost more excited than the child, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +described it all to her. "And little I thought any +carriage would ever come for me, but the one that took +me to the churchyard," she would say each time. "But +your mother, she always had a weakness for what is +grand."</p> + +<p>There had come excitement into their poor lives. +Ditte was no longer bored, and did not have to invent +mischief to keep her little mind occupied. She had also +developed a certain feeling of responsibility towards +her grandmother, now that she was dependent on her—they +got on much better together. "You're very +good to your old Granny, child," Maren would often +say, and then they would cry over each other without +knowing why.</p> + +<p>The little wide-awake girl now had to be eyes for +Granny as well, and old Maren had to learn to see +things through Ditte. And as soon as she got used to +it and put implicit faith in the child, all went well. +Whenever Ditte was tempted to make fun, Maren had +only to say: "You're not playing tricks, are you, +child?" and she would immediately stop. She was intelligent +and quick, and Maren could wish for no better +eyes than hers, failing the use of her own. There she +would sit fumbling and turning her sightless eyes +towards every sound without discovering what it could +be. But thanks to Ditte she was able by degrees to take +up part of her old life again.</p> + +<p>Perhaps after all she missed the skies more than +anything else. The weather had always played a great +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +part in Maren's life; not so much the weather that was, +as that to come. This was the fishergirl in her; she +took after her mother—and her mother again—from +the time she began to take notice she would peer at the +skies early and late. Everything was governed by +them, even their food from day to day, and when they +were dark—it cleared the table once and for all by +taking the bread-winner. The sky was the first thing +her eyes sought for in the morning, and the last to +dwell upon at night. "There'll be a storm in the +night," she would say, as she came in, or: "It'll be a +good day for fishing tomorrow!" Ditte never understood +how she knew this.</p> + +<p>Maren seldom went out now, so it did not matter to +her what the weather was, but she was still as much +interested in it. "What's the sky like?" she would +often ask. Ditte would run out and peer anxiously +at the skies, very much taken up with her commission.</p> + +<p>"'Tis red," she announced on her return, "and +there's a man riding over it on a wet, wet horse. Is it +going to rain then?"</p> + +<p>"Is the sun going down into a sack?" asked Granny. +Ditte ran out again to see.</p> + +<p>"There's no sun at all," she came in and announced +with excitement.</p> + +<p>But Granny shook her head, there was nothing to +be made of the child's explanation; she was too imaginative. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Have you seen the cat eat grass today?" asked +Maren after a short silence.</p> + +<p>No, Ditte had not seen it do that. But it had jumped +after flies.</p> + +<p>Maren considered for a while. Well, well, it probably +meant nothing good. "Go and see if there are +stars under the coffee kettle," said she.</p> + +<p>Ditte lifted the heavy copper kettle from the fire—yes, +there were stars of fire in the soot, they swarmed +over the bottom of the kettle in a glittering mass.</p> + +<p>"Then it'll be stormy," said Granny relieved. "I've +felt it for days in my bones." Should there be a storm, +Maren always remembered to say: "Now, you see, I +was right." And Ditte wondered over her Granny's +wisdom.</p> + +<p>"Is that why folks call you 'wise Maren'?" asked +she.</p> + +<p>"Ay, that's it. But it doesn't need much to be wiser +than the others—if only one has sight. For folks are +stupid—most of them."</p> + +<p>Lars Peter Hansen they neither saw nor heard of +for nearly a year. When people drove past, who +they thought might come from his locality, they would +make inquiries; but were never much wiser for all they +heard. At last they began to wonder whether he really +did exist; it was surely not a dream like the fairy-house +in the wood?</p> + +<p>And then one day he actually stood at the door. +He did not exactly crack his whip—a long hazel-stick +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +with a piece of string at the end—but he tried to do it, +and the old nag answered by throwing back its head +and whinnying. It was the same cart as before, but a +seat with a green upholstered back, from which the +stuffing protruded, had been put on. His big battered +hat was the same too, it was shiny from age and full of +dust, and with bits of straw and spiders' webs in the +dents. From underneath it his tousled hair showed, so +covered with dust and burrs and other things that the +birds of the air might be tempted to build their nests +in it.</p> + +<p>"Now, what do you say to a little drive today?" he +shouted gaily, as he tramped in. "I've brought fine +weather with me, what?"</p> + +<p>He might easily do that, for even yesterday Granny +had seen to it that the weather should be fine, although +she knew nothing of this. Last evening she touched the +dew on the window-pane with her hand and had said: +"There's dew for the morning sun to sparkle on."</p> + +<p>Lars Peter Hansen had to wait, while Ditte lit the +fire and made coffee for him. "What a clever girl you +are," he burst out, as she put it in front of him, "you +must have a kiss." He took her in his arms and kissed +her; Ditte put her face against his rough cheek and +did not speak a word. Suddenly he realized his cheek +was wet, and turned her face toward his. "Have I +hurt you?" he asked alarmed, and put her down.</p> + +<p>"Nay, never a bit," said the old woman. "The +child has been looking forward to a kiss from her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +father, and now it has come to pass—little as it is. +You let her have her cry out; childish tears only wet +the cheeks."</p> + +<p>But Lars Peter Hansen went into the peat shed, +where he found Ditte sobbing. Gently raising her, he +dried her cheeks with his checked handkerchief, which +looked as if it had been out many times before +today.</p> + +<p>"We'll be friends sure enough, we two—we'll be +friends sure enough," he repeated soothingly. His +deep voice comforted the child, she took his hand and +followed him back again.</p> + +<p>Granny, who was very fond of coffee, though she +would never say so, had seized the opportunity to take +an extra cup while they were out. In her haste to pour +it out, some had been spilt on the table, and now she +was trying to wipe it up in the hope it might not be +seen. Ditte helped her to take off her apron, and +washed her skirt with a wet cloth, so that it should not +leave a mark; she looked quite motherly. She herself +would have no coffee, she was so overwhelmed with +happiness, that she could not eat.</p> + +<p>Then the old woman was well wrapped up, and +Lars Peter lifted them into the cart. Granny was put +on the seat by his side, while Ditte, who was to have sat +on the fodder-bag at the back, placed herself at their +feet, for company. Lars took up the reins, pulled +them tightly, and loosened them again; having done this +several times, the old nag started with a jerk, which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +almost upset their balance, and off they went into the +country.</p> + +<p>It was glorious sunshine. Straight ahead the rolling +downs lay bathed in it—and beyond, the country with +forest and hill. It all looked so different from the cart, +than when walking with bare feet along the road; +all seemed to curtsey to Ditte, hills and forests and +everything. She was not used to driving, and this was +the first time she had driven in state and looked down +on things. All those dreary hills that on other days +stretched so heavily and monotonously in front of her, +and had often been too much for her small feet, today +lay down and said: "Yes, Ditte, you may drive over us +with pleasure!" Granny did not share in all this, but +she could feel the sun on her old back and was quite in +holiday mood.</p> + +<p>The old nag took its own time, and Lars Peter +Hansen had no objection. He sat the whole time +lightly touching it with his whip, a habit of his, and one +without which the horse could not proceed. Should he +stop for one moment, while pointing with his whip at +the landscape, it would toss its head with impatience +and look back—greatly to Ditte's enjoyment.</p> + +<p>"Can't it gallop at all?" asked she, propping herself +up between his knees.</p> + +<p>"Rather, just you wait and see!" answered Lars +Peter Hansen proudly. He pulled in the reins, but the +nag only stopped, turned round, and looked at him with +astonishment. For each lash of the whip, it threw up +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +its tail and sawed the air with its head. Ditte's little +body tingled with enjoyment.</p> + +<p>"'Tisn't in the mood today," said Lars Peter Hansen, +when he had at last got it into its old trot again. "It +thinks it's a fraud to expect it to gallop, when it's been +taking such long paces all the time."</p> + +<p>"Did it say that?" asked Ditte, her eyes traveling +from the one to the other.</p> + +<p>"That's what it's supposed to mean. It's not far +wrong."</p> + +<p>Long paces it certainly did take—about that there +was no mistake—but never two of equal length, and +the cart was rolling in a zigzag all the time. What a +funny horse it was. It looked as if it was made of odd +parts, so bony and misshapen was it. No two parts +matched, and its limbs groaned and creaked with every +movement.</p> + +<p>They drove past the big estate, where the squire +lived, over the common, and still further out into the +country which Granny had never seen before.</p> + +<p>"But you can't see it now either," corrected Ditte +pedantically.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you always want to split hairs, 'course I can +see it! When I hear you two speak, I see everything +quite plainly. 'Tis a gift of God, to live through all this +in my old days. But I smell something sweet, what is +it?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe 'tis the fresh water, Granny," said Lars +Peter. "Two or three miles down to the left is the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +big lake. Granny has a sharp nose for anything that's +wet." He chuckled over his little joke.</p> + +<p>"'Tis water folks can drink without harm," said +Maren thoughtfully; "Sören's told me about it. We +were going to take a trip down there fishing for eels, but +we never did. Ay, they say 'tis a pretty sight over the +water to see the glare of the fires on the summer +nights."</p> + +<p>In between Lars Peter told them about conditions +in his home. It was not exactly the wedding they were +going to, for they had married about nine months ago—secretly. +"'Twas done in a hurry," he apologetically +explained, "or you two would have been there."</p> + +<p>Maren became silent; she had looked forward to +being present at the wedding of one of her girls at +least, and nothing had come of it. Otherwise, it was +a lovely trip.</p> + +<p>"Have you any little ones then?" she asked shortly +after.</p> + +<p>"A boy," answered Lars Peter, "a proper little +monkey—the image of his mother!" He was quite +enthusiastic at the thought of the child. "Sörine's +expecting another one soon," he added quietly.</p> + +<p>"You're getting on," said Maren. "How is she?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite so well this time. 'Tis the heartburn, +she says."</p> + +<p>"Then 'twill be a long-haired girl," Maren declared +definitely. "And well on the way she must be, for the +hair to stick in the mother's throat." +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was a beautiful September day. Everything smelt +of mold, and the air was full of moisture, which could +be seen as crystal drops over the sunlit land; a blue +haze hung between the trees sinking to rest in the undergrowth, +so that meadow and moor looked like a glimmering +white sea.</p> + +<p>Ditte marveled at the endlessness of the world. +Constantly something new could be seen: forests, villages, +churches; only the end of the world, which she +expected every moment to see and put an end to everything, +failed to appear. To the south some towers +shone in the sun; it was a king's palace, said her father—her +little heart mounted to her throat when he said +that. And still further ahead——</p> + +<p>"What's that I smell now?" Granny suddenly said, +sniffing the air. "'Tis salt! We must be near the +sea."</p> + +<p>"Not just what one would call near, 'tis over seven +miles away. Can you really smell the sea?"</p> + +<p>Ay, ay, no-one need tell Maren that they neared the +sea; she had spent all her life near it and ought to +know. "And what sea is that?" asked she.</p> + +<p>"The same as yours," answered Lars Peter.</p> + +<p>"That's little enough to drive through the country +for," said Maren laughingly.</p> + +<p>And then they were at the end of their journey. It +was quite a shock to them, when the nag suddenly +stopped and Lars Peter sprang down from the cart. +"Now, then," said he, lifting them down. Sörine +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +came out with the boy in her arms; she was big and +strong and had rough manners.</p> + +<p>Ditte was afraid of this big red woman, and took +refuge behind Granny. "She doesn't know you, that's +why," said Maren, "she'll soon be all right."</p> + +<p>But Sörine was angry. "Now, no more nonsense, +child," said she, dragging her forward. "Kiss your +mother at once."</p> + +<p>Ditte began to howl, and tore herself away from her. +Sörine looked as if she would have liked to use a +parent's privilege and punish the child then and there. +Her husband came between by snatching the child from +her and placing her on the back of the horse. "Pat +the kind horse and say thank you for the nice drive," +said he. Thus he quieted Ditte, and carried her to +Sörine. "Kiss mother," he said, and Ditte put forth +her little mouth invitingly. But now Sörine refused. +She looked at the child angrily, and went to get water +for the horse.</p> + +<p>Sörine had killed a couple of chickens in their honor, +and on the whole made them comfortable, as far as +their food and drink went; but there was a lack of +friendliness which made itself felt. She had always +been cold and selfish, and had not improved with years. +By the next morning old Maren saw it was quite time +for them to return home, and against this Sörine did +not demur. After dinner Lars Peter harnessed the +old nag, lifted them into the cart, and off they set homewards, +relieved that it was over. Even Lars Peter was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +different out in the open to what he was at home. He +sang and cracked jokes, while home he was quiet and +said little.</p> + +<p>They were thankful to be home again in the hut on +the Naze. "Thank the Lord, 'tis not your mother +we've to look to for our daily bread," said Granny, +when Lars Peter Hansen had taken leave; and Ditte +threw her arms round the old woman's neck and kissed +her. Today she realized fully Granny's true worth.</p> + +<p>It had been somewhat of a disappointment. Sörine +was not what they had expected her to be, and her +home was not up to much. As far as Granny found +out from Ditte's description, it was more like a mud-hut, +which had been given the name of dwelling-house, +barn, etc. In no way could it be compared with the hut +on the Naze.</p> + +<p>But the drive had been beautiful.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="I_CHAPTER_XII" id="I_CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a><br /> +The Rag And Bone Man</span></h2> + + +<p>All who knew Lars Peter Hansen agreed that he +was a comical fellow. He was always in a good +temper, and really there was no reason why he +should be—especially where he was concerned. He +belonged to a race of rag and bone men, who as far +back as any one could remember, had traded in what +others would not touch, and had therefore been given +the name of rag and bone folk. His father drove +with dogs and bought up rags and bones and other +unclean refuse; when a sick or tainted animal had to be +done away with he was always sent for. He was a +fellow who never minded what he did, and would bury +his arms up to the elbows in the worst kind of carrion, +and then go straight to his dinner without even rinsing +his fingers in water; people declared that in the +middle of the night he would go and dig up the dead +animals and strip them of their skin. His father, it was +said, had gone as a boy to give his uncle a helping +hand. As an example of the boy's depravity, it was +said that when the rope would not tighten round the +neck of a man who was being hung, he would climb up +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +the gallows, drop down on to the unfortunate man's +shoulder, and sit there.</p> + +<p>There was not much to inherit, and there was absolutely +nothing to be proud of. Lars Peter had probably +felt this, for when quite young he had turned his back +on the home of his childhood. He crossed the water +and tried for work in North Sea land—his ambition was +to be a farmer. He was a steady and respectable +fellow, and as strong as a horse, any farmer would +willingly employ him.</p> + +<p>But if he thought he could run away from things, +he was mistaken. Rumors of his origin followed faithfully +at his heels, and harmed him at every turn. He +might just as well have tried to fly from his own +shadow.</p> + +<p>Fortunately it did not affect him much. He was +good-natured—wherever he had got it from—there +was not a bad thought in his mind. His strength and +trustworthiness made up for his low origin, so that he +was able to hold his own with other young men; it even +happened, that a well-to-do girl fell in love with his +strength and black hair, and wanted him for a husband. +In spite of her family's opposition they became engaged; +but very soon she died, so he did not get hold of her +money.</p> + +<p>So unlucky was he in everything, that it seemed as if +the sins of his fathers were visited upon him. But Lars +Peter took it as the way of the world. He toiled and +saved, till he had scraped together sufficient money to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +clear a small piece of land on the Sand—and once +again looked for a wife. He met a girl from one of +the fishing-hamlets; they took to each other, and he +married her.</p> + +<p>There are people, upon whose roof the bird of misfortune +always sits flapping its black wings. It is generally +invisible to all but the inmates of the house; but +it may happen, that all others see it, except those whom +it visits.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter was one of those whom people always +watched for something to happen. To his race stuck +the two biggest mysteries of all—the blood and the +curse; that he himself was good and happy made it no +less exciting. Something surely was in store for him; +every one could see the bird of misfortune on his +roof.</p> + +<p>He himself saw nothing, and with confidence took his +bride home. No one told him that she had been engaged +to a sailor, who was drowned; and anyway, what +good would it have done? Lars Peter was not the +man to be frightened away by the dead, he was at +odds with no man. And no one can escape his +fate.</p> + +<p>They were as happy together as any two human +beings can be; Lars Peter was good to her, and when +he had finished his own work, would help her with +the milking, and carry water in for her. Hansine was +happy and satisfied; every one could see she had got a +good husband. The bird that lived on their roof could +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +be none other than the stork, for before long Hansine +confided in Lars Peter that she was with child.</p> + +<p>It was the most glorious news he had ever had in his +life, and if he had worked hard before he did even +more so now. His evenings were spent in the woodshed; +there was a cradle to be made, and a rocking-chair, +and small wooden shoes to be carved. As he +worked he would hum, something slightly resembling +a melody, but always the same tune; then suddenly +Hansine would come running out throwing herself into +his arms. She had become so strange under her pregnancy, +she could find no rest, and would sit for hours +with her thoughts far away—as if listening to distant +voices—and could not be roused up again. Lars +Peter put it down to her condition, and took it all good-humoredly. +His even temperament had a soothing +effect upon her, and she was soon happy again. But +at times she was full of anxiety, and would run out to +him in the fields, almost beside herself. It was almost +impossible to persuade her to return to the house, he +only succeeded after promising to keep within sight. +She was afraid of one thing or another at home, but +when he urged her to tell him the reason, she would +look dumbly at him.</p> + +<p>After the child's birth, she was her old self again. +Their delight was great in the little one, and they were +happier even than before.</p> + +<p>But this strange phase returned when she again +became pregnant, only in a stronger degree. There +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +were times, when her fear forced her out of the house, +and she would run into the fields, wring her hands in +anguish. The distracted husband would fetch the +screaming child to her, thus tempting her home again. +This time she gave in and confided in him, that she had +been engaged to a sailor, who had made her promise +that she would remain faithful, if anything happened to +him at sea.</p> + +<p>"Did he never come back then?" asked Lars Peter +slowly.</p> + +<p>Hansine shook her head. And he had threatened to +return and claim her, if she broke her word. He had +said, he would tap on the trap-door in the ceiling.</p> + +<p>"Did you promise of your own free will?" Lars +Peter said ponderously.</p> + +<p>No, Hansine thought he had pressed her.</p> + +<p>"Then you're not bound by it," said he. "My +family, maybe, are not much to go by, scum of the +earth as we are. But my father and my grandfather +always used to say, there's no need to fear the dead; +they were easier to get away from than the living." +She sat bending over the babe, which had cried itself to +sleep on her knees, and Lars Peter stood with his arms +round her shoulder, softly rocking her backwards and +forwards, as he tried to talk her to reason. "You +must think of the little one here—and the other little +one to come! The only thing which can't be forgiven, +is unkindness to those given to us."</p> + +<p>Hansine took his hand and pressed it against her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +tearful eyes. Then rising herself she put the child to +bed; she was calm now.</p> + +<p>The rag and bone man had no superstition of any +kind, or fear either, it was the only bright touch in the +darkness of his race that they possessed; this property +caused them to be outcasts—and decided their trade. +Those who are not haunted, haunt others.</p> + +<p>The only curse he knew, was the curse of being an +outcast and feared; and this, thank the Lord, had been +removed where he was concerned. He did not believe +in persecution from a dead man. But he understood the +serious effect it had upon Hansine, and was much +troubled on her account. Before going to bed, he took +down the trap-door and hid it under the roof.</p> + +<p>Thus they had children one after the other, and with +it trouble and depression. Instead of becoming better +it grew worse with each one; and as much as Lars +Peter loved his children, he hoped each one would be +the last. The children themselves bore no mark of having +been carried under a heart full of fear. They +were like small shining suns, who encircled him all day +long from the moment they could move. They added +enjoyment to his work, and as each new one made its +appearance, he received it as a gift of God. His huge +fists entirely covered the newly born babe, when handed +to him by the midwife—looking in its swaddling clothes +like the leg of a boot—as he lifted it to the ceiling. His +voice in its joy was like the deep chime of a bell, and +the babe's head rolled from side to side, while blinking +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +its eyes at the light. Never had any one been so grateful +for children, wife and everything else as Lars Peter. +He was filled with admiration for them all, it was a +glorious world.</p> + +<p>He did not exactly make headway on his little farm. +It was poor land, and Lars Peter was said to be unlucky. +Either he lost an animal or the crop was spoiled +by hail. Other people kept an account of these accidents, +Lars Peter himself had no feeling of being +treated badly. On the contrary he was thankful for his +farm, and toiled patiently on it. Nothing affected +him.</p> + +<p>When Hansine was to have her fifth child, she was +worse than ever. She had made him put up the trap-door +again, on the pretense that she could not stay in +the kitchen for the draught, and she would be nowhere +else but there—she was waiting for the tap. She complained +no longer nor on the whole was she anxious +either. It was as if she had learned to endure what +could not be evaded; she was absent-minded, and Lars +Peter had the sad feeling that she no longer belonged +to him. In the night he would suddenly realize that she +was missing from his side—and would find her in the +kitchen stiff with cold. He carried her back to bed, +soothing her like a little child, and she would fall asleep +on his breast.</p> + +<p>Her condition was such, that he never dared go from +home, and leave her alone with the children; he had to +engage a woman to keep an eye on her, and look after +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +the house. She now neglected everything and looked +at the children as if they were the cause of her +trouble.</p> + +<p>One day when he was taking a load of peat to town, +an awful thing happened. What Hansine had been +waiting for so long, now actually took place. She sent +the woman, who was supposed to be with her, away +on some excuse or other; and when Lars Peter returned, +the animals were bellowing and every door +open. There was no sign of wife or children. The +poultry slipped past him, as he went round calling. +He found them all in the well. It was a fearful sight to +see the mother and four children lying in a row, first +on the cobble-stoned yard, wet and pitiful, and afterwards +on the sitting-room table dressed for burial. +Without a doubt the sailor had claimed his right! The +mother had jumped down last, with the youngest in +her arms; they found her like this, tightly clasping the +child, though she had not deserved it.</p> + +<p>Every one was deeply shocked by this dreadful occurrence. +They would willingly have given him a comforting +and helping hand now; but it seemed that nothing +could be done to help him in his trouble. He did +not easily accept favors.</p> + +<p>He busied himself round and about the dead, until +the day of the funeral. No one saw him shed a single +tear, not even when the earth was thrown on to the +coffins, and people wondered at his composure; he had +clung so closely to them. He was probably one of those +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +who were cursed with inability to cry, thought the +women.</p> + +<p>After the funeral, he asked a neighbor to look after +his animals; he had to go to town, said he. With that +he disappeared, and for two years he was not seen; +it was understood that he had gone to sea. The farm +was taken over by the creditors; there was no more +than would pay what he owed, so that at all events, +he did not lose anything by it.</p> + +<p>One day he suddenly cropped up again, the same old +Lars Peter, prepared, like Job, to start again from the +beginning. He had saved a little money in the last two +years, and bought a partly ruined hut, a short distance +north of his former farm. With the hut went a bit of +marsh, and a few acres of poor land, which had never +been under the plow. He bought a few sheep and +poultry, put up an outhouse of peat and reeds taken +from the marsh—and settled himself in. He dug peat +and sold it, and when there was a good catch of herrings, +would go down to the nearest fishing hamlet with +his wheelbarrow and buy a load, taking them from +hut to hut. He preferred to barter them, taking in +exchange old metal, rags and bones, etc. It was the +trade of his race he took up again, and although he +had never practised it before, he fell into it quite easily. +One day he took home a big bony horse, which he had +got cheap, because no-one else had any use for it; +another day he brought Sörine home. Everything +went well for him. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + +<p>He had met Sörine at some gathering down in one +of the fishing huts, and they quickly made a match of it. +She was tired of her place and he of being alone; so +they threw in their lot together.</p> + +<p>He was out the whole day long, and often at night +too. When the fishing season was in full swing, he +would leave home at one or two o'clock in the night, +to be at the hamlet when the first boats came in. On +these occasions Sörine stayed up to see that he did not +oversleep himself. This irregular life came as naturally +to her as to him, and she was a great help to +him. So now once more he had a wife, and one who +could work too. He possessed a horse, which had no +equal in all the land—and a farm! It was not what +could be called an estate, the house was built of hay, +mud and sticks; people would point laughingly at it as +they passed. Lars Peter alone was thankful for it.</p> + +<p>He was a satisfied being—rather too much so, +thought Sörine. She was of a different nature, always +straining forward, and pushing him along so that her +position might be bettered. She was an ambitious +woman. When he was away, she managed everything; +and the first summer helped him to build a proper outhouse, +of old beams and bricks, which she made herself +by drying clay in the sun. "Now we've a place for +the animals just like other people," said she, when it +was finished. But her voice showed that she was not +satisfied.</p> + +<p>At times Lars Peter Hansen would suggest that they +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +ought to take Granny and Ditte to live with them. +"They're so lonely and dull," said he, "and the Lord +only knows where they get food from."</p> + +<p>But this Sörine would not hear of. "We've enough +to do without them," answered she sharply, "and +Mother's not in want, I'm sure. She was always clever +at helping herself. If they come here, I'll have the +money paid for Ditte. 'Tis mine by right."</p> + +<p>"They'll have eaten that up long ago," said Lars +Peter.</p> + +<p>But Sörine did not think so; it would not be like her +father or her mother. She was convinced that her +mother had hidden it somewhere or other. "If she +would only sell the hut, and give the money to us," said +she. "Then we could build a new house."</p> + +<p>"Much wants more!" answered Lars Peter smilingly. +In his opinion the house they lived in was quite +good enough. But he was a man who thought anything +good enough for him, and nothing too good for +others. If he were allowed to rule they would soon +end in the workhouse!</p> + +<p>So Lars Peter avoided the question, and after +Granny's visit, and having seen her and Sörine together, +he understood they would be best apart. They +did not come to his home again, but when he was buying +up in their part of the country, he would call in at +the hut on the Naze and take a cup of coffee with them. +He would then bring a paper of coffee and some cakes +with him, so as not to take them unawares, and had +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +other small gifts too. These were days of rejoicing +in the little hut. They longed for him, from one +visit to another, and could talk of very little else. +Whenever there were sounds of wheels, Ditte would +fly to the window, and Granny would open wide her +sightless eyes. Ditte gathered old iron from the shore +as a surprise for her father; and when he drove home, +she would go with him as far as the big hill, behind +which the sun went down.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter said nothing of these visits when he got +home.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="I_CHAPTER_XIII" id="I_CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a><br /> +Ditte Has A Vision</span></h2> + + +<p>Before losing her sight Maren had taught Ditte +to read, which came in very useful now. They +never went to church; their clothes were too shabby, +and the way too long. Maren was not particularly +zealous in her attendance, a life-long experience +had taught her to take what the parson said with a +grain of salt. But on Sundays, when people streamed +past on their way to church, they were both neatly +dressed, Ditte with a clean pinafore and polished +wooden shoes, and Granny with a stringed cap. Then +Granny would be sitting in the armchair at the table, +spectacles on her nose and the Bible in front of her, +and Ditte standing beside her reading the scriptures +for the day. In spite of her blindness, Maren insisted +upon wearing her spectacles and having the holy book +in front of her, according to custom, otherwise it was +not right.</p> + +<p>Ditte was nearly of school age, but Maren took no +notice of it, and kept her home. She was afraid of the +child not getting on with the other children—and could +not imagine how she herself could spare her the whole +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +day long. But at the end of six months they were found +out, and Maren was threatened, that unless the child +was sent to school, she would be taken from her altogether.</p> + +<p>Having fitted out Ditte as well as she could, she sent +her off with a heavy heart. The birth certificate she +purposely omitted giving her; as it bore in the corner +the fateful: born out of wedlock. Maren could not +understand why an innocent child should be stamped as +unclean; the child had enough to fight against without +that. But Ditte returned with strict injunctions to bring +the certificate the next day, and Maren was obliged to +give it to her. It was hopeless to fight against injustice.</p> + +<p>Maren knew well that magistrates were no institution +of God's making—she had been born with this +knowledge! They only oppressed her and her kind; +and with this end in view used their own hard method, +which was none of God's doing at all. He, on the contrary, +was a friend of the poor; at least His only son, +who was sitting on His right hand, whispered good +things of the poor, and it was reasonable to expect that +He would willingly help. But what did it help when +the mighty ones would have it otherwise? It was the +squire and his like, who had the power! It was towards +them the parson turned when preaching, letting the +poor folks look after themselves, and towards them the +deacon glanced when singing. It was all very fine for +them, with the magistrate carrying their trains, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +opening their carriage door, with a peasant woman always +ready to lay herself on all fours to prevent them +wetting their feet as they stepped in. No "born out of +wedlock" on <i>their</i> birth certificate; although one often +might question their genuineness!</p> + +<p>"But why does the Lord let it be like that?" asked +Ditte wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"He has to, or there'd be no churches built nor no +fuss made of Him," answered Maren. "Grandfather +Sören always said, that the Lord lived in the pockets of +the mighty, and it seems as if he's right."</p> + +<hr class="w45" /> + +<p>Ditte now went three times a week to school, which +lay an hour's journey away, over the common. She +went together with the other children from the hamlet, +and got on well with them.</p> + +<p>Children are thoughtless, but not wicked; this they +learn from their elders. They had only called after her +what they had heard at home; it was their parents' +gossip and judgment they had repeated. They meant +nothing by it; Ditte, who was observant in this respect, +soon found out that they treated each other just in the +same way. They would shout witch's brat, at her one +minute and the next be quite friendly; they did not +mean to look down upon her. This discovery took the +sting from the abusive word—fortunately she was not +sensitive. And the parents no longer, in superstition, +warned their children against her; the time when Maren +rode about as a witch was entirely forgotten. Now she +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +was only a poor old woman left alone with an illegitimate +child.</p> + +<p>To the school came children just as far in the opposite +direction, from the neighborhood of Sand. And +it happened, that from them Maren and Ditte could +make inquiries about Sörine and Lars Peter. They +had not seen Ditte's father for some time, and he might +easily have met with an accident, being on the roads +night and day in all sorts of weather. It was fortunate +that Ditte met children from those parts, who could +assure her that all was well. Sörine had never been any +good to her mother, although she was her own flesh and +blood.</p> + +<p>One day Ditte came home with the news that she was +to go to her parents; one of the children had brought +the message.</p> + +<p>Old Maren began to shake, so that her knitting +needles clinked.</p> + +<p>"But they said they didn't want you!" she broke +out, her face quivering.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but now they want me—you see, I've to help +with the little ones," answered Ditte proudly, gathering +her possessions together and putting them on the table. +Each time she put a thing down was like a stab to the +old woman; then she would comfort and stroke +Granny's shaking hand, which was nothing but blue +veins. Maren sat dumbly knitting; her face was +strangely set and dead-looking.</p> + +<p>"Of course I'll come home and see you; but then +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +you must take it sensibly. Can't you understand that +I couldn't stay with you always? I'll bring some coffee +when I come, and we'll have a lovely time. But +you must promise not to cry, 'cause your eyes can't +stand it."</p> + +<p>Ditte stood talking in a would-be wise voice, as she +tied up her things.</p> + +<p>"And now I must go, or I shan't get there till night, +and then mother will be angry." She said the word +"mother" with a certain reverence as if it swept away +all objections. "Good-by, dear, <i>dear</i> Granny!" She +kissed the old woman's cheek and hurried off with her +bundle.</p> + +<p>As soon as the door had closed on her Maren began +crying, and calling for her; in a monotonous undertone +she poured out all her troubles, sorrow and want and +longing for death. She had had so many heavy burdens +and had barely finished with one when another appeared. +Her hardships had cut deeply—most of them; +and it did her good to live through them again and +again. She went on for some time, and would have +gone on still longer had she not suddenly felt two +arms round her neck and a wet cheek against her own. +It was the mischievous child, who had returned, saying +that after all she was not leaving her.</p> + +<p>Ditte had gone some distance, as far as the baker's, +who wondered where she was going with the big parcel +and stopped her. Her explanation, that she was going +home to her parents, they refused to believe; her father +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +had said nothing about it when the baker had met him +at the market the day before, indeed he had sent his +love to them. Ditte stood perplexed on hearing all +this. A sudden doubt flashed through her mind; she +turned round with a jerk—quick as she was in all her +movements—and set off home for the hut on the Naze. +How it had all happened she did not bother to think, +such was her relief at being allowed to return to +Granny.</p> + +<p>Granny laughed and cried at the same time, asked +questions and could make no sense of it.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you going at all, then?" she broke out, +thanking God, and hardly able to believe it.</p> + +<p>"Of course I'm not going. Haven't I just told you, +the baker said I wasn't to."</p> + +<p>"Ay, the baker, the baker—what's he got to do +with it? You'd got the message to go."</p> + +<p>Ditte was busily poking her nose into Granny's cheek.</p> + +<p>Maren lifted her head: "Hadn't you, child? +Answer me!"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Granny," said Ditte, hiding her face +against her.</p> + +<p>Granny held her at an arm's length: "Then you've +been playing tricks, you bad girl! Shame on you, to +treat my poor old heart like this." Maren began sobbing +again and could not stop; it had all come so unexpectedly. +If only one could get to the bottom of it; +but the child had declared that she had not told a lie. +She was quite certain of having had the message, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +was grieved at Granny not believing her. She never +told an untruth when it came to the point, so after all +must have had the message. On the other side the +child herself said that she was not going—although +the baker's counter orders carried no authority. They +had simply stopped her, because her expedition seemed +so extraordinary. It was beyond Maren—unless the +child had imagined it all.</p> + +<p>Ditte kept close to the old woman, constantly taking +hold of her chin. "Now I know how sorry you'll be to +lose me altogether," she said quietly.</p> + +<p>Maren raised her face: "Do you think you'll soon +be called away?"</p> + +<p>Ditte shook her head so vehemently that Granny +felt it.</p> + +<p>Old Maren was deep in thought; she had known before +that the child understood, that it was bound to +come.</p> + +<p>"Whatever it may be," said she after a few moments, +"you've behaved like the great man I once read +about, who rehearsed his own funeral—with four black +horses, hearse and everything. All his servants had to +pretend they were the procession, dressed in black, they +had even to cry. He himself was watching from an +attic window, and when he saw the servants laughing +behind their handkerchiefs instead of crying, he took it +so to heart that he died. 'Tis dangerous for folks to +make fun of their own passing away—wherever they +may be going!" +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wasn't making fun, Granny," Ditte assured her +again.</p> + +<p>From that day Maren went in daily dread of the +child being claimed by her parents. "My ears are burning," +she often said, "maybe 'tis your mother talking +of us."</p> + +<p>Sörine certainly did talk of them in those days. Ditte +was now old enough to make herself useful; her mother +would not mind having her home to look after the little +ones. "She's nearly nine years old now and we'll +have to take her sooner or later," she explained.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter demurred; he thought it was a shame +to take her from Granny. "Let's take them both +then," said he.</p> + +<p>Sörine refused to listen, and nagged for so long that +she overcame his opposition.</p> + +<p>"We've been expecting you," said Maren when at +last he came to fetch the child. "We've known for +long that you'd come on this errand."</p> + +<p>"'Tisn't exactly with my good will. But in a way +a mother has a right to her own child, and Sörine thinks +she'd like to have her," answered Lars Peter. He +wanted to smooth it down for both sides.</p> + +<p>"I know you've done your best. Well, it can't be +helped. And how's every one at home? There's another +mouth to feed, I've heard."</p> + +<p>"Ay, he's nearly six months old now." Lars Peter +brightened up, as he always did when speaking of his +children. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + +<p>They got into the cart. "We shan't forget you, +either of us," said Lars Peter huskily, while trying to +get the old nag off.</p> + +<p>Then the old woman stumbled in, they saw her feeling +her way over the doorstep with her foot and +closing the door behind her.</p> + +<p>"'Tis lonely to be old and blind," said Lars Peter, +lashing his whip as usual.</p> + +<p>Ditte heard nothing; she was sitting with her face in +one big smile. She was driving towards something +new; she had no thought for Granny just then.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="I_CHAPTER_XIV" id="I_CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a><br /> +At Home With Mother</span></h2> + + +<p>The rag and bone man's property—the Crow's +Nest—stood a little way back from the road, +and the piece up towards the road he had planted +with willows, partly to hide the half-ruined abode, +and partly to have material for making baskets during +the winter, when there was little business to be +done. The willows grew quickly, and already made a +beautiful place for playing hide and seek. He made +the house look as well as it could, with tar and whitewash, +but miserable looking it ever would be, leaking +and falling to pieces; it was the dream of Sörine's life, +that they should build a new dwelling-house up by the +road, using this as outhouse. The surroundings were +desolate and barren, and a long way from neighbors. +The view towards the northwest was shut off by +a big forest, and on the opposite side was the big lake, +which reflected all kinds of weather. On the dark +nights could be heard the quacking of the ducks in +the rushes on its banks, and on rainy days, boats would +glide like shadows over it, with a dark motionless figure +in the bow, the eel-fisher. He held his eel-fork slantingly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +in front of him, prodded the water sleepily now +and then, and slid past. It was like a dream picture, +and the whole lake was in keeping. When Ditte felt +dull she would pretend that she ran down to the banks, +hid herself in the rushes, and dream herself home to +Granny. Or perhaps away to something still better; +something unknown, which was in store for her +somewhere or other. Ditte never doubted but +that there was something special in reserve for +her, so glorious that it was impossible even to +imagine it.</p> + +<p>In her play too, her thoughts would go seawards, +and when her longing for Granny was too strong, she +would run round the corner of the house and gaze over +the wide expanse of water. Now she knew Granny's +true worth.</p> + +<p>She had not yet been down to the sea; as a matter of +fact there was no time to play. At six o'clock in the +morning, the youngest babe made himself heard, as +regularly as clockwork, and she had to get up in a +hurry, take him from his mother and dress him. Lars +Peter would be at his morning jobs, if he had not +already gone to the beach for fish. When he was at +home, Sörine would get up with the children; but otherwise +she would take a longer nap, letting Ditte do the +heaviest part of the work for the day. Then her morning +duties would be left undone, the two animals bellowed +from the barn, the pigs squealed over their +empty trough, and the hens flocked together at the hen-house +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +door waiting to be let out. Ditte soon found out +that her mother was more industrious when the father +was at home than when he was out; then she would trail +about the whole morning, her hair undone and an old +skirt over her nightdress, and a pair of down-trodden +shoes on her bare feet, while everything was allowed +to slide.</p> + +<p>Ditte thought this was a topsy-turvy world. She +herself took her duties seriously, and had not yet been +sufficiently with grown-up people to learn to shirk work. +She washed and dressed the little ones. They were full +of life, mischievous and unmanageable, and she had +as much as she could do in looking after the three of +them. As soon as they saw an opportunity, the two +eldest would slip away from her, naked as they were; +then she had to tie up the youngest while she went after +them.</p> + +<p>The days she went to school she felt as a relief. She +had just time to get the children ready, and eat her +porridge, before leaving. At the last moment her +mother would find something or other, which had to be +done, and she had to run the whole way.</p> + +<p>She was often late, and was scolded for it, yet she +loved going to school. She enjoyed sitting quietly in +the warm schoolroom for hours at a stretch, resting +body and mind; the lessons were easy, and the schoolmaster +kind. He often let them run out for hours, +when he would work in his field, and it constantly happened +that the whole school helped him to gather in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +his corn or dig up his potatoes. This was a treat +indeed. The children were like a flock of screaming +birds, chattering, making fun and racing each other at +the work. And when they returned, the schoolmaster's +wife would give them coffee.</p> + +<p>More than anything else Ditte loved the singing-class. +She had never heard any one but Granny sing, +and she only did it when she was spinning—to prevent +the thread from being uneven, and the wheel from +swinging, said she. It was always the same monotonous, +gliding melody; Ditte thought she had composed +it herself, because it was short or long according to +her mood.</p> + +<p>The schoolmaster always closed the school with a +song, and the first time Ditte heard the full chorus, she +burst into tears with emotion. She put her head on the +desk, and howled. The schoolmaster stopped the singing +and came down to her.</p> + +<p>"She must have been frightened," said the girls +nearest to her.</p> + +<p>He comforted her, and she stopped crying. "Have +you never heard singing before, child?" he asked wonderingly, +when she had calmed down.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the spinning-song," sniffed Ditte.</p> + +<p>"Who sang it to you then?"</p> + +<p>"Granny——" Ditte suddenly stopped and began +to choke again, the thought of Granny was too much +for her. "Granny used to sing it when she was spinning," +she managed at last to say. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That must be a good old Granny, you have. Do +you love her?"</p> + +<p>Ditte did not answer, but the face she turned to him +was like sunshine after the storm.</p> + +<p>"Will you sing us the spinning-song?"</p> + +<p>Ditte looked from the one to the other; the whole +class gazed breathlessly at her; she felt something +was expected of her. She threw a hasty glance at the +schoolmaster's face; then fixed her eyes on her desk +and began singing in a delicate little voice, which vibrated +with conflicting feelings; shyness, the solemnity +of the occasion, and sorrow at the thought of Granny, +who might now sit longing for her. Unconsciously she +moved one foot up and down as she sang, as one who +spins. One or two attempted to giggle, but one look +from the master silenced them.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now we spin for Ditte for stockings and for vest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spin, spin away, Oh, and spin, spin away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some shall be of silver and golden all the rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fal-de-ray, fal-de-ray, de-ray, ray, ray!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ditte went awalking, so soft and round and red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spin, spin away, Oh, and spin, spin away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Met a little princeling who doff'd his cap and said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fal-de-ray, fal-de-ray, de-ray, ray, ray!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, come with me, fair maiden, to father's castle fine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spin, spin away, Oh, and spin, spin away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll play the livelong day and have a lovely time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fal-de-ray, fal-de-ray, de-ray, ray, ray!<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas, dear little prince, your question makes me grieve,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spin, spin away, Oh, and spin, spin away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's Granny waits at home for me, and her I cannot leave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fal-de-ray, fal-de-ray, de-ray, ray, ray!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She's blind, poor old dear, 'tis sad to see, alack!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spin, spin away, Oh, and spin, spin away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She's water in her legs and pains all down her back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fal-de-ray, fal-de-ray, de-ray, ray, ray!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—If 'tis but for a child, she's cried her poor eyes out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spin, spin away, Oh, and spin, spin away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then she shall never want of that there is no doubt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fal-de-ray, fal-de-ray, de-ray, ray, ray!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When toil and troubles tell and legs begin to ache,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spin, spin away, Oh, and spin, spin away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll dress her up in furs and drive her out in state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fal-de-ray, fal-de-ray, de-ray, ray, ray!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now Granny spins once more for sheet and bolster long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spin, spin away, Oh, and spin, spin away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Ditte and the prince to lie and rest upon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fal-de-ray, fal-de-ray, de-ray, ray, ray!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>When she had finished her song, there was stillness +for a few moments in the schoolroom.</p> + +<p>"She thinks she's going to marry a prince," said +one of the girls.</p> + +<p>"And that she probably will!" answered the schoolmaster. +"And then Granny can have all she wants," +he added, stroking her hair. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>Without knowing it, Ditte at one stroke had won +both the master's and the other children's liking. She +had sung to the whole class, quite alone, which none of +the others dared do. The schoolmaster liked her for +her fearlessness, and for some time shut his eyes whenever +she was late. But one day it was too much for +him, and he ordered her to stay in. Ditte began to cry.</p> + +<p>"'Tis a shame," said the other girls, "she runs the +whole way, and she's whipped if she's late home. Her +mother stands every day at the corner of the house +waiting for her—she's so strict."</p> + +<p>"Then we'll have to get hold of your mother," said +the schoolmaster. "This can't go on!" Ditte escaped +staying in, but was given a note to take home.</p> + +<p>This having no effect, the schoolmaster went with +her home to speak to her mother. But Sörine refused +to take any responsibility. If the child arrived late at +school, it was simply because she loitered on the way. +Ditte listened to her in amazement; she could not make +out how her mother could look so undisturbed when +telling such untruths.</p> + +<p>Ditte, to help herself, now began acting a lie too. +Each morning she seized the opportunity of putting the +little Swiss clock a quarter of an hour forward. It +worked quite well in the morning, so that she was in +time for school; but she would be late in arriving home.</p> + +<p>"You're taking a quarter of an hour longer on the +road now," scolded her mother.</p> + +<p>"We got out late today," lied Ditte, trying to copy +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +her mother's unconcerned face, as she had seen it +when <i>she</i> lied. Her heart was in her mouth, but all +went well—wonderful to relate! How much wiser she +was now! During the day she quietly put the clock +back again.</p> + +<p>One day, in the dusk, as she stood on the chair +putting the clock back, her mother came behind her. +Ditte threw herself down from the chair, quickly picking +up little Povl from the floor, where he was crawling; +in her fear, she tried to hide behind the little one. +But her mother tore him from her, and began thrashing +her.</p> + +<p>Ditte had had a rap now and then, when she was +naughty, but this was the first time she had been really +whipped. She was like an animal, kicking and biting, +and shrieking, so that it was all her mother could do to +manage her. The three little ones' howls equaled hers.</p> + +<p>When Sörine thought she had had enough, she +dragged her to the woodshed and locked her in. "Lie +there and howl, maybe it'll teach you not to try those +tricks again!" she shouted, and went in. She was so +out of breath that she had to sit down; that wicked child +had almost got the better of her.</p> + +<p>Ditte, quite beyond herself, went on screaming and +kicking for some time. Her cries gradually quietened +down to a despairing wail of: "Granny, Granny!" It +was quite dark in the woodshed, and whenever she +called for Granny, she heard a comforting rustling +sound from the darkness at the back of the shed. She +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +gazed confidently towards it, and saw two green fire-balls +shining in the darkness, which came and went by +turns. Ditte was not afraid of the dark. "Puss, puss," +she whispered. The fire-balls disappeared, and the +next moment she felt something soft touching her. And +now she broke down again, this caress was too much +for her, and she pitied herself intensely. Puss, little +puss! There was after all one who cared for her! +Now she would go home to Granny.</p> + +<p>She got up, dazed and bruised, and felt her way to +the shutter. When Sörine thought that she had been +locked in long enough, and came to release her, she had +vanished.</p> + +<hr class="w45" /> + +<p>Ditte ran into the darkness, sobbing; it was cold and +windy, and the rain was beating on her face. She +wore no knickers under her dress—these her mother +had taken for the little ones, together with the thick +woollen vest Granny had knitted for her—the wet edge +of her skirt cut her bare legs, which were swollen from +the lash of the cane. But the silent rain did her good. +Suddenly something flew up from beside her; she heard +the sound of rushes standing rustling in the water—and +knew that she had got away from the road. She +collapsed, and crawled into the undergrowth, and lay +shivering in a heap, like a sick puppy.</p> + +<p>There she lay groaning without really having any +more pain; the cold had numbed her limbs and deadened +the smart. It was distress of soul which made her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +wince now and then; it was wrung by the emptiness and +meaninglessness of her existence. She needed soothing +hands, a mother first of all, who would fondle her—but +she got only hard words and blows from that +quarter. Yet it was expected that she should give what +she herself missed most of all—a mother's long-suffering +patience and tender care to the three tiresome little +ones, who were scarcely more helpless than she was.</p> + +<p>Her black despair little by little gave place to numbness. +Hate and anger, feebleness and want, had all +fought in her mind and worn her out. The cold did the +rest, and she fell into a doze.</p> + +<p>A peculiar, grinding, creaking and jolting noise came +from the road. Only one cart in all the world could +produce that sound. Ditte opened her eyes, and a feeling +of joy went through her—her father! She tried +to call, but no sound came, and each time she tried to +rise her legs gave way under her. She crawled up +with difficulty over the edge of the ditch, out into the +middle of the road, and there collapsed.</p> + +<p>As the nag neared that spot, it stopped, threw up its +head, snorted, and refused to go on. Lars Peter +jumped down and ran to the horse's head to see what +was wrong; there he found Ditte, stiff with cold and +senseless.</p> + +<p>Under his warm driving cape she came to herself +again, and life returned to the cold limbs. Lars Peter +thawed them one by one in his huge fists. Ditte lay +perfectly quiet in his arms; she could hear the beat of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +his great heart underneath his clothes, throb, throb! +Each beat was like the soft nosing of some animal, +and his deep voice sounded to her like an organ. His +big hands, which took hold of so much that was hard +and ugly, were the warmest she had ever known. Just +like Granny's cheek—the softest thing in all the world—were +they.</p> + +<p>"Now we must get out and run a little," said the +father suddenly. Ditte was unwilling to move, she was +so warm and comfortable. There was no help for it +however. "We must get the blood to run again," said +he, lifting her out of the cart. Then they ran for some +time by the side of the nag, which threw out its big +hoofs in a jog-trot, so as not to be outdone.</p> + +<p>"Shall we soon be home?" asked Ditte, when she +was in the cart again, well wrapped up.</p> + +<p>"Oh-h, there's a bit left—you've run seven miles, +child! Now tell me what's the meaning of your running +about like this."</p> + +<p>Then Ditte told him about the school, the injustice +she had had to bear, the whipping and everything. In +between there were growls from Lars Peter, as he +stamped his feet on the bottom of the cart—he could +hardly tolerate to listen to this tale. "But you won't +tell Sörine, will you?" she added with fear. "Mother, +I mean," she hastily corrected herself.</p> + +<p>"You needn't be afraid," was all he said.</p> + +<p>He was silent for the rest of the journey, and was +very slow in unharnessing; Ditte kept beside him. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +Sörine came out with a lantern and spoke to him, +but he did not answer. She cast a look of fear +at him and the child, hung up the lantern, and hurried +in.</p> + +<p>Soon after he came in, holding Ditte by the hand, her +little hand shaking in his. His face was gray; in his +right hand was a thick stick. Sörine fled from his +glance; right under the clock; pressing herself into the +corner, gazing at them with perplexity.</p> + +<p>"Ay, you may well gaze at us," said he, coming forward—"'tis +a child accusing you. What's to be done +about it?" He had seated himself under the lamp, and +lifting Ditte's frock, he carefully pressed his palm +against the blue swollen weals, which smarted with the +slightest touch. "It still hurts—you're good at thrashing! +let's see if you're equally good at healing. Come +and kiss the child, where you've struck her, a kiss for +each stroke!"</p> + +<p>He sat waiting. "Well——"</p> + +<p>Sörine's face was full of disgust.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you think your mouth's too good to kiss what +your hand's struck." He reached out for the stick.</p> + +<p>Sörine had sunk down on the ground, she put out her +hands beseechingly. But he looked inexorably at her, +not at all like himself. "Well——"</p> + +<p>Sörine lingered a few moments longer, then on her +knees went and kissed the child's bruised limbs.</p> + +<p>Ditte threw her arms violently round her mother's +neck. "Mother," said she. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Sörine got up and went out to get the supper. +She never looked at them the whole evening.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter was his old self the next morning. He +woke Sörine with a kiss as usual, humming as he +dressed. Sörine still looked at him with malice, but he +pretended not to notice it. It was quite dark, and as he +sat eating his breakfast, with the lantern in front of +him on the table, he kept looking at the three little +ones, in bed. They were all in a heap—like young +birds. "When Povl has to join them, we'll have to +put two at each end," he said thoughtfully. "Better +still, if we could afford another bed."</p> + +<p>There was no answer from Sörine.</p> + +<p>When ready to leave, he bent over Ditte, who lay +like a little mother with the children in her arms. +"That's a good little girl, you've given us," said he, +straightening himself.</p> + +<p>"She tells lies," answered Sörine from beside the +fireplace.</p> + +<p>"Then it's because she's had to. My family's not +thought much of, Sörine—and maybe they don't deserve +it either. But never a hand was laid on us children, +I'll tell you. I remember plainly my father's +death-bed, how he looked at his hands, and said: +'These have dealt with much, but never has the rag +and bone man's hands been turned against the helpless!' +I'd like to say that when my time comes, and +I'd advise you to think of it too."</p> + +<p>Then he drove away. Sörine put the lantern in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +window, to act as a guide to him, and crept back to +bed, but could not sleep. For the first time Lars Peter +had given her something to think of. She had found +that in him which she had never expected, something +strange which warned her to be careful. A decent soul, +she had always taken him for—just as the others. And +how awful he could be in his rage—it made her flesh +creep, when thinking of it. She certainly would be careful +not to come up against him again.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="I_CHAPTER_XV" id="I_CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a><br /> +Rain And Sunshine</span></h2> + + +<p>On the days when Ditte did not go to school, +there were thousands of things for her to do. +She had to look after the little ones, care for the +sheep and hens too, and gather nettles in a sack for +the pigs. At times Lars Peter came home early, having +been unlucky in selling his fish. Then she would sit +up with her parents until one or two o'clock in the +night, cleaning the fish, to prevent it spoiling. Sörine +was one of those people who fuss about without doing +much. She could not bear the child resting for a moment, +and drove her from one task to another. Often +when Ditte went to bed, she was so tired that she could +not sleep. Sörine had the miserable habit of making +the day unhappy for the children. She was rough with +them should they get in her way; and always left children's +tears like streams of water behind her. When +Ditte went to gather sticks, or pick berries, she always +dragged the little ones with her, so as not to leave +them to their mother's tender mercy. There were days +when Sörine was not quite so bad—she was never quite +happy and kind, but at other times she was almost mad +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +with anger, and the only thing to do was to keep out +of her way. Then they would all hide, and only appear +when their father came home.</p> + +<p>Sörine was careful not to strike Ditte, and sent her +off to school in good time—she had no wish to see +Lars Peter again as he was that evening. But she had +no love for the child, she wanted to get on in life; +it was her ambition to build a new dwelling-house, get +more land and animals—and be on the same footing +with the other women on the small farms round about. +The child was a blot on her. Whenever she looked at +Ditte, she would think: Because of that brat, all the +other women look down on me!</p> + +<p>The child certainly was a good worker, even Sörine +grudgingly admitted it to Lars Peter. It was Ditte +who made butter, first in a bottle, which had to be +shaken, often by the hour, before the butter would +come—and now in the new churn. Sörine herself could +not stand the hard work of churning. Ditte gathered +berries and sold them in the market, ran errands, +fetched water and sticks, and looked after the sheep, +carrying fat little Povl wherever she went. He cried +if she left him behind, and she was quite crooked with +carrying him.</p> + +<p>Autumn was the worst time for the children. It was +the herring season, and their father would stay down at +the fishing hamlet—often for a month at a time—helping +with the catch. Sörine was then difficult to get on +with; the only thing which kept her within bounds was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +Ditte's threat of running away. There were not many +men left in the neighborhood in the autumn, and Sörine +went in daily dread of tramps. Should they knock at +the door in the evening, she would let Ditte answer it.</p> + +<p>Ditte was not afraid. This and her cleverness gave +her moral power over her mother; she had no fear of +answering her back now. She was quicker with her +fingers than her mother, both in making baskets and +brooms, and did better work too.</p> + +<p>What money they made in this way, Sörine had permission +to keep for herself. She never spent a penny +of it, but put it by, shilling by shilling, towards building +the new house. They must try hard to make +enough, so that Lars Peter could work at home instead +of hawking his goods on the road. As long as the +people had the right to call him rag and bone man, it +was natural they should show no respect. Land they +must have, and for this, money was necessary.</p> + +<p>Money! money! That word was always in Sörine's +mind and humming in her ears. She scraped together +shilling after shilling, and yet the end was far from +being in sight, unless something unexpected happened. +And what could happen to shorten the wearisome way +to her goal, only one thing—that her mother should +die. She had really lived long enough and been a +burden to others. Sörine thought it was quite time she +departed, but no such luck.</p> + +<p>It happened that Lars Peter returned one day in the +middle of the afternoon. The shabby turn-out could be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +seen from afar. The cart rocked with every turn of +the wheels, creaking and groaning as it was dragged +along. It was as if all the parts of the cart spoke and +sang at once, and when the children heard the well-known +noise along the road, they would rush out, full +of excitement. The old nag, which grew more and +more like a wandering bag of bones, snorted and puffed, +and rumbled, as if all the winds from the four corners +of the earth were locked in its belly. And Lars Peter's +deep hum joined the happy chorus.</p> + +<p>When the horse saw the little ones, it whinnied; Lars +Peter raised himself from his stooping position and +stopped singing, and the cart came to a standstill. He +lifted them up in the air, all three or four together in +a bunch, held them up to the sky for a moment, and +put them into the cart as carefully as if they were made +of glass. The one who had seen him first was allowed +to hold the reins.</p> + +<p>When Lars Peter came home and found Sörine in +a temper and the house upside down, he was not disturbed +at all, but soon cheered them all up. He always +brought something home with him, peppermints for +the children, a new shawl for mother—and perhaps +love from Granny to Ditte, whispering it to her so +that Sörine could not hear. His good humor was infectious; +the children forgot their grievances, and even +Sörine had to laugh whether she wanted to or not. +And if the children were fond of him, so too were the +animals. They would welcome him with their different +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +cries and run to meet him; he could let the pig out and +make it follow him in the funniest gallop round the +field.</p> + +<p>However late he was in returning, and however tired, +he never went to bed without having first been the +round to see that the animals wanted for nothing. +Sörine easily forgot them and they were often hungry. +Then the hens flew down from their perch on hearing +his step, the pigs came out and grunted over their +trough, and a soft back rubbed itself up against his +legs—the cat.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter brought joy with him home, and a happier +man than he could hardly be found for miles. He +loved his wife for what she was, more sharp than really +clever. He admired her for her firmness, and thought +her an exceedingly capable woman, and was truly thankful +for the children she gave him, for those he was +father to—and for Ditte. Perhaps if anything he +cared most for her.</p> + +<p>Such was Lars Peter's nature that he began where +others ended. All his troubles had softened instead of +hardening him; his mind involuntarily turned to what +was neglected, perhaps it was because of this that +people thought nothing throve for him.</p> + +<p>His ground was sour and sandy, none but he would +think of plowing it. No-one grudged him his wife, +and most of the animals he had saved from being killed, +on his trips round the farms. He could afford to be +happy with his possessions, thinking they were better +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +than what others had. He was jealous of no-one, and +no exchange would tempt him.</p> + +<p>On Sundays the horse had to rest, and it would not +do either to go on his rounds that day. Therefore Lars +Peter would creep up to the hayloft to have a sleep. +He would sleep on until late in the afternoon, having +had very little during the week, and Ditte had her work +cut out to keep the little ones from him; they made as +much noise as they possibly could, hoping to waken +him so that he might play with them, but Ditte watched +carefully, that he had his sleep in peace.</p> + +<p>Twice a year they all drove to the market at +Hilleröd, on top of the loaded cart. The children were +put into the baskets which were stacked in the back +of the cart, the brooms hung over the sides, under the +seat were baskets of butter and eggs, and in front—under +Lars' and Sörine's feet, were a couple of sheep +tied up. These were the great events of the year, from +which everything was dated.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="I_CHAPTER_XVI" id="I_CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a><br /> +Poor Granny</span></h2> + + +<p>On rare occasions Ditte was permitted to go and +stay with Granny for a few days. It was the +father who managed this, and he arranged his round +so that he could either bring or fetch her home.</p> + +<p>Granny was always in bed when she arrived—she +never got up now. "Why should I trudge on, when +you're not here? If I stay in bed, then sometimes kind +folks remember me and bring me a little food and +clean up for me. Oh, dear! 'twould be much better +to die; nobody wants me," she complained. But she +got up all the same, and put on water for the coffee; +Ditte cleaned the room, which was in a deplorable condition, +and they enjoyed themselves together.</p> + +<p>When the time was up and Ditte had to go, the old +woman cried. Ditte stood outside listening to her +wailings; she held on to the doorpost trying to pull +herself together. She <i>had</i> to go home, and began +running with closed eyes the first part of the way, until +she could hear Granny's cries no longer, then——But +she got more and more sick at heart, and knew no +more, until she found herself with her arms round +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +Granny's neck. "I'm allowed to stay until tomorrow," +said she.</p> + +<p>"You're not playing tricks, child?" said the old +woman anxiously. "For then Sörine'll be angry. Ay, +ay," said she shortly afterwards, "stay until tomorrow +then. The Lord'll make it all right for you—for the +sake of your good heart. We don't have much chance +of seeing each other, we two."</p> + +<p>The next day it was no better; Maren had not the +strength to send the child away. There was so much +to tell her, and what was one day after the accumulation +of months of sorrow and longing? And Ditte +listened seriously to all her woes; she understood now +what sorrow and longing meant. "You've quite +changed," said Granny. "I notice it from the way +you listen to me. If only the time would pass quickly +so that you might go out to service."</p> + +<p>And one day it was all over; Lars Peter had come +to fetch her. "You'd better come home now," said +he, wrapping her up, "the little ones are crying for +you."</p> + +<p>"Ay, you're not to be feared," said old Maren. +"But it seems like Sörine might be kinder to her."</p> + +<p>"I think it's better now—and the little ones are fond +of her. She's quite a little mother to them."</p> + +<p>Yes, there were the children! Ditte's heart warmed +at the thought of them. They had gained her affection +in their own peculiar way; by adding burdens to her +little life they had wound themselves round her heart. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How's Povl?" asked she, when they had driven +over the big hill, and Granny's hut was out of sight.</p> + +<p>"Well, you know, he's always crying when you're +not at home," said the father quietly.</p> + +<p>Ditte knew this. He was cutting his teeth just now, +and needed nursing, his cheeks were red with fever, and +his mouth hot and swollen. He would hang on to his +mother's skirt, only to be brushed impatiently aside, +and would fall and hurt himself. Who then was there +to take him on their knee and comfort him? It was +like an accusation to Ditte's big heart; she was sorry +she had deserted him, and longed to have him in her +arms again. It hurt her back to carry him—yes, and +the schoolmaster scolded her for stooping. "It's your +own fault," the mother would say; "stop dragging that +big child about! He can walk if he likes, he can." +But when he was in pain and cried, Ditte knew all too +well from her own experience the child's need of being +held against a beating heart. She still had that longing +herself, though a mother's care had never been offered +her.</p> + +<p>Sörine was cross when Lars Peter returned with +Ditte, and ignored her for several days. But at last +curiosity got the upper hand. "How's the old woman—is +she worse?" asked she.</p> + +<p>Ditte, who thought her mother asked out of sympathy, +gave full details of the miserable condition that +Granny was in. "She's always in bed, and only gets +food when any one takes it to her." +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then she can't last much longer," thought the +mother.</p> + +<p>At this Ditte began to cry. Then her mother scolded +her:</p> + +<p>"Stupid girl, there's nothing to cry for. Old folks +can't live on forever, being a burden to others. +And when Granny dies we'll get a new dwelling-house."</p> + +<p>"No, 'cause Granny says, what comes from the +house is to be divided equally. And the rest——" +Ditte broke off suddenly.</p> + +<p>"What rest?" Sörine bent forward with distended +nostrils.</p> + +<p>But Ditte closed her lips firmly. Granny had strictly +forbidden her to mention the subject—and here she +had almost let it out.</p> + +<p>"Stupid girl! don't you suppose I know you're thinking +of the two hundred crowns that was paid for you? +What's to be done with it?"</p> + +<p>Ditte looked with suspicion at her mother. "I'm +to have it," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"Then the old woman should let us keep it for you, +instead of hanging on to it herself," said Sörine.</p> + +<p>Ditte was terrified. That was exactly what Granny +was afraid of, that Sörine should get hold of it. +"Granny has hidden it safely," said she.</p> + +<p>"Oh, has she, and where?—in the eiderdown of +course!"</p> + +<p>"No!" Ditte assured her, shaking her head vehemently. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +But any one could see that was where it was +hidden.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's lucky, for that eiderdown I'm going to +fetch some day. That you can tell Granny, with my +love, next time you see her. Each of my sisters when +they married was given an eiderdown, and I claim mine +too."</p> + +<p>"Granny only has one eiderdown!" Ditte protested—perhaps +for the twentieth time.</p> + +<p>"Then she'll just have to take one of her many +under-quilts. She lies propped up nearly to the ceiling, +with all those bedclothes."</p> + +<p>Yes, Granny's bed was soft, Ditte knew that better +than any one else. Granny's bedclothes were heavy, +and yet warmer than anything else in the whole world, +and there was a straw mat against the wall. It had +been so cosy and comfortable sleeping with Granny.</p> + +<p>Ditte was small for her age, all the hardships she +had endured had stunted her growth. But her mind +was above the average; she was thoughtful by nature, +and her life had taught her not to shirk, but to take up +her burden. She had none of the carelessness of childhood, +but was full of forethought and troubles. She +<i>had</i> to worry—for her little sisters and brothers the +few days she was with Granny, and for Granny all the +time she was not with her.</p> + +<p>As a punishment, for having prolonged her visit +to Granny without permission, Sörine for a long time +refused to let her go again. Then Ditte went about +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +thinking of the old woman, worrying herself into a +morbid self-reproach; most of all at night, when she +could not sleep for cold, would her sorrows overwhelm +her, and she would bury her head in the eiderdown, so +that her mother should not hear her sobs.</p> + +<p>She would remember all the sweet ways of the old +woman, and bitterly repent the tricks and mischief she +had played upon her. This was her punishment; she +had repaid Granny badly for all her care, and now she +was alone and forsaken. She had never been really +good to the old woman; she would willingly be so now—but +it was too late! There were hundreds of ways +of making Granny happy, and Ditte knew them all, but +she had been a horrid, lazy girl. If she could only go +back now, she certainly would see that Granny always +had a lump of sugar for her second cup of coffee—instead +of stealing it herself. And she would remember +every evening to heat the stone, and put it at the foot of +the bed, so Granny's feet should not be cold. "You've +forgotten the stone again," said Granny almost every +night, "my feet are like ice. And what are yours like? +Why, they're quite cold, child." Then Granny would +rub the child's feet until they were warm; but nothing +was done to her own—it was all so hopeless to think +of it now.</p> + +<p>She thought, if she only promised to be better in +the future, something must happen to take her back to +Granny again. But nothing did happen! And one +day she could stand it no longer, and set off running +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +over the fields. Sörine wanted her brought home at +once; but Lars Peter took it more calmly.</p> + +<p>"Just wait a few days," said he, "'tis a long time +since she's seen the old woman." And he arranged his +round so that Ditte could spend a few days with her +grandmother.</p> + +<p>"Bring back the eiderdown with you," said Sörine. +"It's cold now, and it'll be useful for the children."</p> + +<p>"We'll see about it," answered Lars Peter. When +she got a thing into her head, she would nag on and on +about it, so that she would have driven most people +mad. But Lars Peter did not belong to the family of +Man; all her haggling had no effect on his good-natured +stubbornness.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="I_CHAPTER_XVII" id="I_CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a><br /> +When The Cat's Away</span></h2> + + +<p>Ditte was awakened by the sound of iron being +struck, and opened her eyes. The smoking +lamp stood on the table, and in front of the fire was +her mother hammering a ring off the kettle with a +poker. She was not yet dressed; the flames from the +fire flickered over her untidy red hair and naked throat. +Ditte hastily closed her eyes again, so that her mother +should not discover that she was awake. The room +was cold, and through the window-panes could be seen +the darkness of the night.</p> + +<p>Then her father came tramping in with the lantern, +which he put out and hung it up behind the door. He +was already dressed, and had been out doing his morning +jobs. There was a smell of coffee in the room. +"Ah!" said he, seating himself by the table. Ditte +peeped out at him; when he was there, there was no +fear of being turned out of bed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, there you are, little wagtail," said he. "Go +to sleep again, it's only five o'clock—-but maybe you're +thinking of a cup of coffee in bed?"</p> + +<p>Ditte glanced at her mother, who stood with her +back to her. Then she nodded her head eagerly. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lars Peter drank half of his coffee, put some more +sugar in the cup, and handed it to the child.</p> + +<p>Sörine was dressing by the fireplace. "Now keep +quiet," said she, "while I tell you what to do. There's +flour and milk for you to make pancakes for dinner; +but don't dare to put an egg in."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord, what's an egg or two," Lars Peter +tried to say.</p> + +<p>"You leave the housekeeping to me," answered +Sörine, "and you'd better get up at once before we +leave, and begin work."</p> + +<p>"What's the good of that?" said Lars Peter again. +"Leave the children in bed till it's daylight. I've fed +the animals, and it's no good wasting oil."</p> + +<p>This last appealed to Sörine. "Very well, then, but +be careful with the fire—and don't use too much sugar."</p> + +<p>Then they drove away. Lars Peter was going to the +shore to fetch fish as usual, but would first drive Sörine +into town, where she would dispose of the month's collection +of butter and eggs, and buy in what could not +be got from the grocer in the hamlet. Ditte listened to +the cart until she dropped asleep again.</p> + +<p>When it was daylight, she got up and lit the fire +again. The others wanted to get up too, but by promising +them coffee instead of their usual porridge and milk +she kept them in bed until she had tidied up the room. +They got permission to crawl over to their parents' +bed, and thoroughly enjoyed themselves there, while +Ditte put wet sand on the floor, and swept it. Kristian, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +who was now five years old, told stories in a deep voice +of a dreadful cat that went about the fields eating up +all the moo-cows; the two little ones lay across him, +their eyes fixed on his lips, and breathless with excitement. +They could see it quite plainly—the pussy-cat, +the moo-cow and everything—and little Povl, out of +sheer eagerness to hurry up the events, put his fat little +hand right down Kristian's throat. Ditte went about +her duties smiling in her old-fashioned way at their +childish talk. She looked very mysterious as she gave +them their coffee; and when the time came for them +to be dressed, the surprise came out. "Oh, we're going +to have our best clothes on—hip, hip, hooray!" shouted +Kristian, beginning to jump up and down on the +bed. Ditte smacked him, he was spoiling the bedclothes!</p> + +<p>"If you'll be really good and not tell any one, I'll +take you out for a drive," said Ditte, dressing them +in their best clothes. These were of many colors, their +mother having made them from odd scraps of material, +taken from the rag and bone man's cart.</p> + +<p>"Oh—to the market?" shouted Kristian, beginning +to jump again.</p> + +<p>"No, to the forest," said the little sister, stroking +Ditte's cheeks beseechingly with her dirty little hands, +which were blue with cold. She had seen it from afar, +and longed to go there.</p> + +<p>"Yes, to the forest. But you must be good; it's a +long way." +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p>"May we tell pussy?" Söster looked at Ditte with +her big expressive eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and papa," Kristian joined in with.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but not any one else," Ditte impressed upon +them. "Now remember that!"</p> + +<p>The two little ones were put into the wheelbarrow, +and Kristian held on to the side, and thus they set off. +There was snow everywhere, the bushes were weighted +down with it, and on the cart track the ice cracked under +the wheel. It was all so jolly, the black crows, the +magpies which screamed at them from the thorn-bushes, +and the rime which suddenly dropped from the trees, +right on to their heads.</p> + +<p>It was three miles to the forest, but Ditte was used to +much longer distances, and counted this as nothing. +Kristian and Söster took turns in walking, Povl wanted +to walk in the snow too, but was told to stay where he +was and be good.</p> + +<p>All went well until they had got halfway. Then the +little ones began to tire of it, asking impatiently for +the forest. They were cold, and Ditte had to stop +every other moment to rub their fingers. The sun had +melted the snow, making it dirty and heavy under foot, +and she herself was getting tired. She tried to cheer +them up, and trailed on a little further; but outside the +bailiff's farm they all came to a hopeless standstill. A +big fierce dog thought their hesitation suspicious and +barred their way.</p> + +<p>Per Nielsen came out on the porch to see why the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +dog barked so furiously; he at once saw what had happened, +and took the children indoors. It was dinner-time, +the wife was in the kitchen frying bacon and +apples together. It smelt delicious. She thawed their +frozen fingers in cold water; when they were all right +again, all three stood round the fire. Ditte tried to get +them away, but they were hungry.</p> + +<p>"You shall have some too," said the bailiff's wife, +"but sit down on that bench and be good; you're in my +way." They were each given a piece of cake, and then +seated at the scoured table. They had never been out +before, their eyes went greedily from one thing to +another, as they were eating; on the walls hung copperware, +which shone like the sun, and on the fire was +a big bright copper kettle with a cover to the spout. +It was like a huge hen sitting on eggs.</p> + +<p>When they had finished their meal, Per Nielsen took +them out and showed them the little pigs, lying like rolls +of sausages round the mother. Then they went into +the house again, and the wife gave them apples and +cakes, but the best of all came last, when Per Nielsen +harnessed the beautiful spring-cart to drive them home. +The wheelbarrow was put in the back, so that too got a +drive. The little ones laughed so much that it caught +in their throats.</p> + +<p>"Stupid children, coming out like that all alone," +said the bailiff's wife, as she stood wrapping them up. +"Fortunately 'twas more good luck than management +that you came here." And they all agreed that the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +return to the Crow's Nest was much grander than the +set-off.</p> + +<p>The trip had been glorious, but now there was work +to be done. The mother had not taken picnics into +account, and had put a large bundle of rags out on the +threshing-floor to be sorted, all the wool to be separated +from the cotton. Kristian and Söster could give a helping +hand if they liked; but they would not be serious +today. They were excited by the trip, and threw the +rags at each other's heads. "Now, you mustn't fight," +repeated Ditte every minute, but it did no good.</p> + +<p>When darkness fell, they had only half finished. +Ditte fetched the little lamp, in which they used half +oil and half petroleum, and went on working; she +cried despairingly when she found that they could not +finish by the time her parents would return. At the +sight of her tears the children became serious, and for +a while the work went on briskly. But soon they were +on the floor again chasing each other; and by accident +Kristian kicked the lamp, which fell down and broke. +This put an end to their wildness; the darkness fixed +them to the spot; they dared not move. "Ditte take +me," came wailingly from each corner.</p> + +<p>Ditte opened the trap-door. "Find your own way +out!" said she harshly, fumbling about for Povl, who +was sleeping on a bundle of rags; she was angry. +"Now you shall go to bed for punishment," said she.</p> + +<p>Kristian was sobbing all the time. "Don't let +mother whip me, don't let her!" he said over and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +over again. He put his arms round Ditte's neck as if +seeking refuge there. And this put an end to her anger.</p> + +<p>When she had lit the lantern she helped them to +undress. "Now if you'll be good and go straight to +sleep, then Ditte will run to the store and buy a lamp." +She dared not leave the children with the light burning, +and put it out before she left. As a rule they were +afraid of being left alone in the dark; but under the +present conditions it was no good making a fuss.</p> + +<p>Ditte had a sixpence! Granny had given it to her +once in their well-to-do-days, and she had kept it faithfully +through all temptations up to now. It was to have +bought her so many beautiful things, and now it had to +go—to save little Kristian from a whipping. Slowly +she kneeled down in front of the hole at the foot of +the wall where it was hidden, and took the stone away; +it really hurt her to do it. Then she got up and ran +off to the store as quickly as she could—before she +could repent.</p> + +<p>On her return the little ones were asleep. She lit the +lantern and began to peel off the withered leaves from +the birches which were to be made into brooms; she +was tired after the long eventful day, but could not +idle. The strong fragrance from the birches was penetrating, +and she fell asleep over her work. Thus her +parents found her.</p> + +<p>Sörine's sharp eyes soon saw that everything was +not as it should be. "Why've you got the lantern lit?" +asked she, as she unbuttoned her coat. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ditte had to own up, "but I've bought another!" +she hastened to add.</p> + +<p>"Oh—and where is it?" said the mother, looking +round the room.</p> + +<p>The next moment Sörine stood in the doorway. +"Who gave you permission to get things on credit?" +asked she.</p> + +<p>"I bought it with my own money," Ditte whispered.</p> + +<p>Own money—then began a cross-examination, which +looked as if it would never end. Lars Peter had to +interfere.</p> + +<p>There was no fire in the room, so they went early +to bed; Ditte had forgotten the fire. "She's had +enough to do," said Lars Peter excusingly. And +Sörine had nothing to say—she had no objection when +it meant saving.</p> + +<p>There was a hard frost. Ditte was cold and could +not sleep, she lay gazing at her breath, which showed +white, and listening to the crackling of the frost on the +walls. Outside it was moonlight, and the beams shone +coldly over the floor and the chair with the children's +clothes. If she lifted her head, she could peep out +through the cracks in the wall, catching glimpses of +the white landscape; the cold blew in her face.</p> + +<p>The room got colder and colder. She had to lie with +one arm outstretched, holding the eiderdown over the +others, and the cold nipped her shoulders. Söster began +to be restless, she was the most thin-blooded of the +three and felt the cold. It was an eiderdown which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +was little else than a thick cover, the feathers having +disappeared, and those they got when killing poultry +were too good to be used—the mother wanted them +turned into money.</p> + +<p>Now Povl began to whimper. Ditte took the children's +clothes from the chair and spread them over the +bed. From their parents' bed came the mother's voice. +"You're to be quiet," said she. The father got up, +fetched his driving-cape, and spread it over them; it +was heavy with dust and dirt, but it warmed them!</p> + +<p>"'Tis dreadful the way the wind blows through +these walls," said he when again in bed; "the air's +like ice in the room! I must try to get some planks to +patch up the walls."</p> + +<p>"You'd better be thinking of building; this rotten +old case isn't worth patching up."</p> + +<p>Lars Peter laughed: "Ay, that's all very well; but +where's the money to come from?"</p> + +<p>"We've got a little. And then the old woman'll die +soon—I can feel it in my bones."</p> + +<p>Ditte's heart began to jump—was Granny going to +die? Her mother had said it so decidedly. She listened +breathlessly to the conversation.</p> + +<p>"And what of that?" she heard her father say, +"that won't alter matters."</p> + +<p>"I believe the old woman's got more than we think," +answered Sörine in a low voice. "Are you asleep, +Ditte?" she called out, raising herself on her elbow +listening. Ditte lay perfectly still. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you know?" Sörine began again, "I'm sure the +old woman has sewn the money up in the quilt. That's +why she won't part with it."</p> + +<p>Lars Peter yawned loudly; "What money?" It +could be gathered from the sound of his voice, that he +wanted to sleep now.</p> + +<p>"The two hundred crowns, of course."</p> + +<p>"What's that to do with us?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't she my mother? But the money'll go to the +child, and aren't we the proper ones to look after it for +her. If the old woman dies and there's an auction—there'll +be good bids for it, and whoever buys the quilt'll +get the two hundred crowns as well. You'd better go +over and have a talk with her, and make her leave +everything to us."</p> + +<p>"Why not you?" said Lars Peter, and turned round +towards the wall.</p> + +<p>Then everything was quiet. Ditte lay in a heap, with +hands pressed against mouth, and her little heart throbbing +with fear; she almost screamed with anxiety. Perhaps +Granny would die in the night! It was some time +since she had visited her, and she had an overpowering +longing for Granny.</p> + +<p>She crept out of bed and put on her shoes.</p> + +<p>Her mother raised herself; "Where're you going?"</p> + +<p>"Just going outside," answered Ditte faintly.</p> + +<p>"Put a skirt on, it's very cold," said Lars Peter—"we +might just as well have kept the new piece of furniture +in here," he growled shortly afterwards. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + +<p>What a long time the child took—Lars Peter got +up and peeped out. He caught sight of her far down +the moonlit road. Hastily throwing on some clothes, +he rushed after her. He could see her ahead, tearing +off for all she was worth. He ran and shouted, ran and +shouted, his heavy wooden shoes echoing on the road. +But the distance between them only increased; at last +she disappeared altogether from view. He stood a +little longer shouting; his voice resounded in the stillness +of the night; and then turned round and went home.</p> + +<p>Ditte tore on through the moonlit country. The +road was as hard as stone, and the ice cut through her +cloth shoes; from bog and ditch came the sound, crack, +crack, crack; and the sea boomed on the shore. But +Ditte did not feel the cold, her heart was beating wildly. +Granny's dying, Granny's dying! went continuously +through her mind.</p> + +<p>By midnight she had reached the end of her journey, +she was almost dropping with fatigue. She stopped at +the corner of the house to gain breath; from inside +could be heard Granny's hacking cough. "I'm coming, +Granny!" she cried, tapping on the window, sobbing +with joy.</p> + +<p>"How cold you are, child!" said the old woman, +when they were both under the eiderdown. "Your +feet are like lumps of ice—warm them on me." Ditte +nestled in to her, and lay there quietly.</p> + +<p>"Granny! mother knows you've hidden the money in +the eiderdown," she said suddenly. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I guessed that, my child. Feel!" The old woman +guided Ditte's hand to her breast, where a little packet +was hidden. "Here 'tis, Maren can take care of what's +trusted to her. Ay, ay, 'tis <a class="corr" name="TC_3" id="TC_3" title="said">sad</a> to be like us two, no-one +to care for us, and always in the way—to our own folks +most of all. They can't make much use of you yet, +and they're finished with me—I'm worn out. That's +how it is."</p> + +<p>Ditte listened to the old woman's talk. It hummed +in her ears and gave her a feeling of security. She +was now comfortable and warm, and soon fell asleep.</p> + +<p>But old Maren for some time continued pouring out +her grievances against existence.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="I_CHAPTER_XVIII" id="I_CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a><br /> +The Raven Flies By Night</span></h2> + + +<p>It was a hard winter. All through December the +snow swept the fields, drifting into the willows in +front of the Crow's Nest, the only place in the +neighborhood where a little shelter was to be found.</p> + +<p>The lake was entirely frozen; one could walk across +it from shore to shore. When there was a moon, the +rag and bone man would go down and with his wooden +shoe break the ice round the seagulls and wild ducks, +which were frozen in the lake, and then carry them +home under his snow-covered cape. He would put +them on the peat beside the fireplace, where for days +they stood on one leg gazing sickly into the embers, until +Sörine at last took them into the kitchen and wrung +their necks.</p> + +<p>In spite of there being a fire day and night, the cold +was felt intensely in the Crow's Nest; it was impossible +to heat the room. Sörine, with the bread-knife, stuffed +old rags into the cracks in the wall; but one day when +doing this, a big piece of the wall collapsed. She filled +up the hole with the eiderdown, and when Lars Peter +came home at night, he patched it up and nailed planks +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +across to keep it in place. The roof was not up too +much either; the rats and house-martens had worked +havoc in it, so that it was like a sieve, and the snow +drifted into the loft. It was all bad.</p> + +<p>Every day Sörine tried to rouse Lars Peter to do +something.</p> + +<p>But what could he do? "I can't work harder than +I do, and steal I won't," said he.</p> + +<p>"What do the others do, who live in a pretty and +comfortable house?"</p> + +<p>Yes, how did other people manage? Lars Peter +could not imagine. He had never envied any one, nor +drawn comparisons, so had never faced the question +before.</p> + +<p>"You toil and toil, but never get any further, that +I can see," Sörine continued.</p> + +<p>"Do you really mean that?" Lars Peter looked at +her with surprise and sorrow.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do. What have you done? Aren't we just +where we started?"</p> + +<p>Lars Peter bent his head on hearing her hard words. +But it was all quite true; except for strict necessities, +they had never money to spare.</p> + +<p>"There's so much wanted, and everything's so +dear," said he excusingly. "There's no trade either! +We must just have patience, till it comes round +again."</p> + +<p>"You with your patience and patience—maybe we +can live on your being patient and content? D'you +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +know why folk call this the Crow's Nest? Because +nothing thrives for us, they say."</p> + +<p>Lars Peter took his big hat from the nail behind +the door and went out. He was depressed, and sought +comfort with the animals; they and the children he +understood, but grown-up people he could not. After +all, there must be something lacking in him, since all +thought him a peculiar fellow, just because he was +happy and patient.</p> + +<p>As soon as he had left the kitchen, the nag recognized +his footstep, and welcomed him with a whinny. +He went into the stall and stroked its back; it was like +a wreck lying keel upwards. It certainly was a skeleton, +and could not be called handsome. People smiled when +they saw the two of them coming along the road—he +knew it quite well! But they had shared bad and good +together, and the nag was not particular; it took everything +as it came, just as he did.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter had never cared for other people's +opinion; but now his existence was shaken, and it was +necessary to defend himself and his own. In the stall +beside the horse lay the cow. True enough, if taken to +market now it would not fetch much; it was weak on +its legs and preferred to lie down. But with spring, +when it got out to grass, this would right itself. And it +was a good cow for a small family like his; it did not +give much milk at a time, but to make up for it gave milk +all the year round. And rich milk too! When uncomplimentary +remarks were made about it, Lars Peter would +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +chaffingly declare that he could skim the milk three +times, and then there was nothing but cream left. He +was very fond of it, and more so for the good milk it +had given the little ones.</p> + +<p>One corner of the outhouse was boarded off for the +pig. It too had heard him, and stood waiting for him +to come and scratch its neck. It suffered from intestinal +hernia; it had been given to Lars Peter by a farmer +who wanted to get rid of it. It was not a pretty sight, +but under the circumstances had thriven well, he +thought, and would taste all right when salted. Perhaps +it was this Sörine wanted?</p> + +<p>The snow lay deep on the fields, but he recognized +every landmark through the white covering. It was +sandy soil, and yielded poor crops, yet for all that Lars +Peter was fond of it. To him it was like a face with +dear living features, and he would no more criticize it +than he would his own mother. He stood at the door +of the barn gazing lingeringly at his land. He was not +happy—as he usually was on Sundays when he went +about looking at his possessions. Today he could +understand nothing!</p> + +<p>Every day Sörine would return to the same subject, +with some new proposal. They would buy her mother's +house and move over there; the beams were of oak, +and the hut would last for many years. Or they would +take her as a pensioner, while there was time—in return +for getting all she owned. Her thoughts were ever with +her mother and her possessions. "Suppose she goes to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +some one else as a pensioner, and leaves everything to +them! or fritters away Ditte's two hundred crowns!" +said she. "She's in her second childhood!"</p> + +<p>She was mad on the subject, but Lars Peter let her +talk on.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it true, Ditte, that Granny would be much +better with us?" Sörine would continue. She quite +expected the child to agree with her, crazy as she was +over her grandmother.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," answered Ditte sullenly. Her +mother lately had done her best to get her over to her +side, but Ditte was suspicious of her. She would love +to be with Granny again, but not in that way. She +would only be treated badly. Ditte had no faith in her +mother's care. It was more for her own wicked ends +than for daughterly love, Granny herself had said.</p> + +<p>Sörine was beyond comprehension. One morning +she would declare that before long they would hear +sad news about Granny, because she had heard the +raven screaming in the willows during the night. "I'd +better go over and see her," said she.</p> + +<p>"Ay, that's right, you go," answered Lars Peter. +"I'll drive you over. After all, the nag and I have +nothing to do."</p> + +<p>But Sörine wouldn't hear of it. "You've your own +work to do at home," said she. However, she did not +get off that day—something or other prevented her. +She had grown very restless.</p> + +<p>The next morning she was unusually friendly to the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +children. "I'll tell you something, Granny will soon be +coming here—I dreamed it last night," said she, as she +helped Ditte to dress them. "She can have the alcove, +and father and I'll move into the little room. And then +you won't be cold any longer."</p> + +<p>"But yesterday you said that Granny was going to +die soon," objected Ditte.</p> + +<p>"Ay, but that was only nonsense. Hurry up home +from school. I've some shopping to do, and likely +won't be home till late." She put sugar on the bread +Ditte took to school, and sent her off in good time.</p> + +<p>Ditte set out, with satchel hanging from her arm, +and her hands rolled up in the ends of her muffler. The +father had driven away early, and she followed the +wheel-tracks for some distance, and amused herself by +stepping in the old nag's footprints. Then the trail +turned towards the sea.</p> + +<p>She could not follow the lessons today, she was perplexed +in mind. Her mother's friendliness had roused +her suspicions. It was so contrary to the conviction +which the child from long experience had formed as to +her mother's disposition. Perhaps she was not such +a bad mother when it came to the point. The sugar on +the bread almost melted Ditte's heart.</p> + +<p>But at the end of the school hour, a fearful anxiety +overwhelmed her; her heart began to flutter like a +captured bird, and she pressed her hand against her +mouth, to keep herself from screaming aloud. When +leaving the school, she started running towards the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +Naze. "That's the wrong way, Ditte!" shouted the +girls she used to go home with. But she only ran on.</p> + +<p>It was thick with snow, and the air was still and +heavy-laden. It had been like twilight all day long. +As she neared the hill above the hut on the Naze, darkness +began to fall. She had run all the way and only +stopped at the corner of the house, to get her breath. +There was a humming in her ears, and through the +hum she heard angry voices: Granny's crying, and her +mother's hard and merciless.</p> + +<p>She was about to tap on the window-pane, but hesitated, +her mother's voice made her creep with fear. +She shivered as she crept round the house towards the +woodshed, opened the door, and stood in the kitchen, +listening breathlessly. Her mother's voice drowned +Granny's; it had often forced Ditte to her knees, but +so frightful she had never heard it before. She was +stiff with fear, and she had to squat on the ground, +shivering with cold.</p> + +<p>Through the keyhole she caught a glimpse of her +mother's big body standing beside the alcove. She +was bent over it, and from the movement of her back, +it could be seen that she had got hold of the old woman. +Granny was defending herself.</p> + +<p>"Come out with it at once," Sörine shouted hoarsely. +"Or I'll pull you out of bed."</p> + +<p>"I'll call for some one," groaned Granny, hammering +on the wall.</p> + +<p>"Call for help if you like," ridiculed Sörine, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +"there's no-one to hear you. Maybe you've got it in +the eiderdown, since you hold it so tightly."</p> + +<p>"Oh, hold your mouth, you thief," moaned Granny. +Suddenly there was a scream, Sörine must have got hold +of the packet on the old woman's breast.</p> + +<p>Ditte jumped in and lifted the latch. "Granny," +she shrieked, but she was not heard in the fearful noise. +They fought, Granny's screams were like those of +a dying animal. "I'll make you shut up, you witch!" +shouted Sörine, and the old woman's scream died away +to an uncanny rattle; Ditte wanted to assist her grandmother, +but could not move, and suddenly fell unconscious +to the ground. When she came to herself again, +she was lying face downwards on the floor; her forehead +hurt. She stumbled to her feet. The door stood +open, and her mother had gone. Large white flakes +of snow came floating in, showing white in the darkness.</p> + +<p>Ditte's first thought was that it would be cold for +Granny. She closed the door and went towards the +bed. Old Maren lay crouched together among the +untidy bedclothes. "Granny," called Ditte and crying +groped for the sunken face. "It's only me, dear little +Granny."</p> + +<p>She took the old woman's face entreatingly between +her thin toil-worn hands, crying over it for a while; then +undressed herself and crept into bed beside her. She +had once heard Granny say about some one she had +been called to: "There is nothing to be done for him, +he's quite cold!" And she was obsessed with that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +thought, Granny must not be allowed to get cold, or she +would have no Granny left. She crept close to the +body, and worn out by tears and exhaustion soon fell +asleep.</p> + +<p>Towards morning she woke feeling cold; Granny +was dead and cold. Suddenly she understood the awfulness +of it all, and hurrying into her clothes, she fled.</p> + +<p>She ran across the fields in the direction of home, +but when she reached the road leading to the sea, she +went along it to Per Nielsen's farm. There they picked +her up, benumbed with misery. "Granny's dead!" +she broke out over and over again, looking from one +to the other with terror in her eyes. That was all they +could get out of her. When they proposed taking her +home to the Crow's Nest, she began to scream, so they +put her to bed, to rest.</p> + +<p>When she woke later in the day, Per Nielsen came in +to her. "Well, I suppose you'd better be thinking of +getting home," said he. "I'll go with you."</p> + +<p>Ditte gazed at him with fear in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Are you afraid of your stepfather?" asked he. +She did not answer. The wife came in.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what we're to do," said he, "she's +afraid to go home. The stepfather can't be very good +to her."</p> + +<p>Ditte turned sharply towards him. "I want to go +home to Lars Peter," she said, sobbing.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="I_CHAPTER_XIX" id="I_CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a><br /> +Ill Luck Follows The Raven's Call</span></h2> + + +<p>On receiving information of old Maren's death, +four of her children assembled at the hut on +the Naze, to look after their own interests, and +watch that no-one ran off with anything. The other +four on the other side of the globe, could of course +not be there.</p> + +<p>There was no money—not as much as a farthing was +to be found, in spite of their searching, and the splitting +up of the eiderdown—and the house was mortgaged +up to the hilt. They then agreed to give Sörine +and her husband what little there was, on condition that +they provided the funeral. On this occasion, Sörine did +not spare money, she wanted the funeral to be talked +about. Old Maren was put into the ground with more +grandeur than she had lived.</p> + +<p>Ditte was at the funeral—naturally, as she was the +only one who had ever cared for the dead woman. But +in the churchyard she so lost control over herself, that +Lars Peter had to take her aside, to prevent her disturbing +the parson. She had such strong feelings, +every one thought. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + +<p>But in this respect Ditte changed entirely. After +Granny's death, she seemed to quieten. She went about +doing her work, was not particularly lively, but not depressed +either. Lars Peter observed that she and her +mother quarreled no longer. This was a pleasant step +in the right direction!</p> + +<p>Ditte resigned herself to her lot. It cost her an +effort to remain under the same roof as her mother; +she would rather have left home. But this would have +reflected on her stepfather, and her sense of justice +rebelled against this. Then too the thought of her +little brothers and sisters kept her back; what would +become of them if she left?</p> + +<p>She remained—and took up a definite position +towards her mother. Sörine was kind and considerate +to her, so much so that it was almost painful, but Ditte +pretended not to notice it. All advances from her +mother glanced off her. She was stubborn and determined, +carrying through what she set her mind on—the +mother was nothing to her.</p> + +<p>Sörine's eyes constantly followed her when unobserved—she +was afraid of her. Had the child been in +the hut when it happened, or had she only arrived later? +Sörine was not sure whether she herself had overturned +the chair that evening in the darkness? How much did +Ditte know? That she knew something her mother +could tell from her face. She would have given much +to find out, and often touched upon the question—with +her uncertain glance at the girl. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Tis terrible to think that Granny should die +alone," she would say, hoping the child would give herself +away. But Ditte was obstinately silent.</p> + +<p>One day Sörine gave Lars Peter a great surprise, by +putting a large sum of money on the table in front of +him. "Will that build the house, d'you think?" asked +she.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter looked at her; he was astounded.</p> + +<p>"I've saved it by selling eggs and butter and wool," +said she; "and by starving you," she added with an +uncertain smile. "I know that I've been stingy and a +miser; but in the end it pays you as well."</p> + +<p>It was so seldom she smiled. "How pretty it made +her!" thought Lars Peter, looking lovingly at her. +She had lately been happier and more even tempered—no +doubt the prospect of getting a better home.</p> + +<p>He counted the money—over three hundred crowns! +"That's a step forward," said he. The next evening +when returning home he had bricks on the cart; and +every evening he continued bringing home materials +for building.</p> + +<p>People who passed the Crow's Nest saw the erection +of beams and bricks shoot up, and rumors began to +float round the neighborhood. It began with a whisper +that the old woman had left more than had been +spoken of. Then it was said that perhaps, after all, +old Maren had not died a natural death. And some +remembered having seen Sörine on her way from the +Crow's Nest towards the hamlet, on the same afternoon +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +as her mother's death; little by little more was +added to this, until it was declared that Sörine had +strangled her own mother. Ditte was probably—with +the exception of the mother—the only one who knew +the real facts, and nothing could be got out of her +when it affected her family—least of all on an occasion +like this. But it was strange that she should happen +to arrive just at the critical moment; and still more +remarkable that she should run to Per Nielsen's and not +home with the news of her grandmother's death.</p> + +<p>Neither Sörine herself nor Lars Peter heard a word +of these rumors. Ditte heard it at school through the +other children, but did not repeat it. When her mother +was more than usually considerate, her hate would seethe +up in her—"Devil!" it whispered inside her, and suddenly +she would feel an overwhelming desire to shout +to her father: "Mother stifled Granny with the eiderdown!" +It was worst of all when hearing her speak +lovingly about the old woman. But the thought of his +grief stopped her. He went about now like a great +child, seeing nothing, and was more than ever in love +with Sörine; he was overjoyed by the change for the +better. Ditte and the others loved him as never before.</p> + +<p>When Sörine was too hard on the children, they +would hide from her outside the house, and only appear +when their father returned at night. But since Granny's +death there had been no need for this. The mother +was entirely changed; when her temper was about to +flare up, an unseen hand seemed to hold it back. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> + +<p>But it happened at times that Ditte could not bear +to stay in the same room with her mother, and then she +would go back to her old way and hide herself.</p> + +<p>One evening she lay crouching in the willows. +Sörine came time after time to the door, calling her in +a friendly voice, and at each call a feeling of disgust +went through the girl. "Ugh!" said she; it made her +almost sick. After having searched for her round the +house, Sörine went slowly up to the road and back +again, peering about all the time: passing so close to +Ditte that her dress brushed her face: then she went in.</p> + +<p>Ditte was cold, and tired of hiding, but in she would +not go—not till her father came home. He might not +return until late, or not at all. Ditte had experienced +this before, but then there had been a reason for it. +It was no whipping she expected now!</p> + +<p>No, but how lovely it had been to walk in holding her +father's hand. He asked no question now, but only +looked at the mother accusingly, and could not do +enough for one. Perhaps he would make an excuse for +a trip over to ... no ... this ... Ditte +began to cry. It was terrible that however much she +mourned for Granny—suddenly she would find she had +forgotten Granny was dead. "Granny's dead, dear +little Granny's dead," she would repeat to herself, so +that it should not happen again, but the next minute it +was just the same. It was so disloyal!</p> + +<p>Now that it was too late, she was sorry she had not +gone in when her mother called. She drew her feet +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +up under her dress and began pulling up the grass to +keep herself awake. Hearing a sound from the distance +she jumped up—wheels approaching! but alas, it +was not the well-known rumbling of her father's +cart.</p> + +<p>The cart turned from the road down in the direction +of the Crow's Nest. Two men got out and went into +the house; both wore caps with gold braid on. Ditte +crept down to the house, behind the willows; her heart +was beating loudly. The next moment they reappeared +with her mother between them; she was struggling and +shrieking wildly. "Lars Peter!" she cried heartrendingly +in the darkness; they had to use force to get +her into the cart. Inside the house the children could +be heard crying in fear.</p> + +<p>This sound made Ditte forget everything else, and +she rushed forward. One of the men caught her by the +arm, but let her go at a sign from the other man. +"D'you belong to the house?" asked he.</p> + +<p>Ditte nodded.</p> + +<p>"Then go in to the little ones and tell them not to +be afraid.... Drive on!"</p> + +<p>Quick as lightning, Sörine put both legs over the side +of the cart, but the policemen held her back. "Ditte, +help me!" she screamed, as the cart swung up the road +and disappeared.</p> + +<hr class="w45" /> + +<p>Lars Peter was about three miles from the Crow's +Nest, turning into the road beside the grocer's, when +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +a cart drove past; in the light from the shop windows +he caught sight of gold-braided caps. "The police are +busy tonight!" said he, and shrugged his shoulders. He +proceeded up the road and began humming again, +mechanically flicking the nag with the whip as usual. +He sat bent forward, thinking of them all at home, of +what Sörine would have for him tonight—he was starving +with hunger—and of the children. It was a shame +that he was so late—it was pleasant when they all four +rushed to meet him. Perhaps, after all, they might not +be in bed.</p> + +<p>The children stood out on the road, all four of them, +waiting for him; the little ones dared not stay in the +house. He stood as though turned to stone, holding on +to the cart for support, while Ditte with tears told what +had happened; it looked as if the big strong man would +collapse altogether. Then he pulled himself together +and went into the house with them, comforting them +all the time; the nag of its own accord followed with +the cart.</p> + +<p>He helped Ditte put the children to bed. "Can you +look after the little ones tonight?" he asked, when they +had finished. "I must drive to town and fetch mother—it's +all a misunderstanding."</p> + +<p>His voice sounded hollow.</p> + +<p>Ditte nodded and followed him out to the cart.</p> + +<p>He turned and set the horse in motion, but suddenly +he stopped.</p> + +<p>"You know all about it, better than any one else, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +Ditte," said he. "You can clear your mother." He +waited quietly, without looking at her, and listened. +There was no answer.</p> + +<p>Then he turned the cart slowly round and began to +unharness.</p> + + + + +<hr class="w65" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a> +<br /><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a> +<br /><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> +<h2>PART II</h2> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="II_CHAPTER_I" id="II_CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a><br /> +Morning At The Crow's Nest</span></h2> + + +<p>Klavs was munching busily in his stall, with a +great deal of noise. He had his own peculiar way +of feeding; always separating the corn from the straw, +however well Lars Peter had mixed it. He would first +half empty the manger—so as to lay a foundation. +Then, having still plenty of room for further operations, +he would push the whole together in the middle +of the manger, blowing vigorously, so that the straw +flew in all directions, and proceed to nuzzle all the +corn. This once devoured, he would scrape his hoofs +on the stone floor and whinny.</p> + +<p>Ditte laughed. "He's asking for more sugar," said +she. "Just like little Povl when he's eating porridge; +he scrapes the top off too."</p> + +<p>But Lars Peter growled. "Eat it all up, you old +skeleton," said he. "These aren't times to pick and +choose."</p> + +<p>The nag would answer with a long affectionate +whinny, and go on as before.</p> + +<p>At last Lars Peter would get up and go to the +manger, mixing the straw together in the middle. "Eat +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +it up, you obstinate old thing!" said he, giving the +horse a slap on the back. The horse, smelling the +straw, turned its head towards Lars Peter; and looked +reproachfully at him as though saying: "What's the +matter with you today?" And nothing else would +serve, but he must take a handful of corn and mix it +with the straw. "But no tricks now," said he, letting +his big hand rest on the creature's back. And this time +everything was eaten up.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter came back and sat under the lantern +again.</p> + +<p>"Old Klavs is wise," said Ditte, "he knows exactly +how far to go. But he's very faddy all the same."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you, he knows that we're going on a long +trip; and wants a big feed beforehand," answered Lars +Peter as if in excuse. "Ay, he's a wise rascal!"</p> + +<p>"But pussy's much sharper than that," said Ditte +proudly, "for she can open the pantry door herself. +I couldn't understand how she got in and drank the +milk; I thought little Povl had left the door open, and +was just going to smack him for it. But yesterday I +came behind pussy, and can you imagine what she +did? Jumped up on the sink, and flew against the +pantry door, striking the latch with one paw so it +came undone. Then she could just stand on the floor +and push the door open."</p> + +<p>They sat under the lantern, which hung from one +of the beams, sorting rags, which lay round them in +bundles; wool, linen and cotton—all carefully separated. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +Outside it was cold and dark, but here it was +cosy. The old nag was working at his food like a +threshing machine, the cow lay panting with well-being +as it chewed the cud, and the hens were cackling +sleepily from the hen-house. The new pig was probably +dreaming of its mother—now and again a sucking +could be heard. It had only left its mother a few days +ago.</p> + +<p>"Is this wool?" asked Ditte, holding out a big rag.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter examined it, drew out a thread and put +it in the flame of the lantern.</p> + +<p>"It should be wool," said he at last, "for it melts +and smells of horn. But Heaven knows," he felt the +piece of cloth again meditatively. "Maybe 'tis some +of those new-fashioned swindles; 'tis said they can make +plant stuff, so folks can't see the difference between it +and wool. And they make silk of glass too, I'm +told."</p> + +<p>Ditte jumped up and opened the shutter, listening, +then disappeared across the yard. She returned shortly +afterwards.</p> + +<p>"Was anything wrong with the children?" asked +Lars Peter.</p> + +<p>"'Twas only little Povl crying; but how can they +make silk of glass?" asked she suddenly, "glass is so +brittle!"</p> + +<p>"Ay, 'tis the new-fashioned silk though, and may be +true enough. If you see a scrap of silk amongst the +rags 'tis nearly always broken." +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And what queer thing's glass made of?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, you may well ask that—if I could only tell you. +It can't be any relation to ice, as it doesn't melt even +when the sun shines on it. Maybe—no, I daren't try +explaining it to you. 'Tis a pity not to have learned +things properly; and think things out oneself."</p> + +<p>"Can any folks do that?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, there <i>must</i> be some, or how would everything +begin—if no one hit on them. I used to think and +ask about everything; but I've given it up now, I never +got to the bottom of it. This with your mother doesn't +make a fellow care much for life either." Lars Peter +sighed.</p> + +<p>Ditte bent over her work. When this topic came up, +it was better to be silent.</p> + +<p>For a few minutes neither spoke. Lars Peter's hands +were working slowly, and at last stopped altogether. +He sat staring straight ahead without perceiving anything; +he was often like this of late. He rose abruptly, +and went towards the shutter facing east, and opened +it; it was still night, but the stars were beginning to pale. +The nag was calling from the stall, quietly, almost unnoticeably. +Lars Peter fastened the shutter, and stumbled +out to the horse. Ditte followed him with her +eyes.</p> + +<p>"What d'you want now?" he asked in a dull voice, +stroking the horse. The nag pushed its soft nose into +his shoulder. It was the gentlest caress Lars Peter +knew, and he gave it another supply of corn. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ditte turned her head towards them—she felt +anxious over her father's present condition. It was no +good going about hanging one's head.</p> + +<p>"Is it going to have another feed?" said she, trying +to rouse him. "That animal'll eat us out of house and +home!"</p> + +<p>"Ay, but it's got something to do—and we've a long +journey in front of us." Lars Peter came back and +began sorting again.</p> + +<p>"How many miles is it to Copenhagen then?"</p> + +<p>"Six or seven hours' drive, I should say; we've got +a load."</p> + +<p>"Ugh, what a long way." Ditte shivered. "And +it's so cold."</p> + +<p>"Ay, if I'm to go alone. But you might go with +me! 'Tisn't a pleasant errand, and the time'll go slowly +all that long way. And one can't get away from sad +thoughts!"</p> + +<p>"I can't leave home," answered Ditte shortly.</p> + +<p>For about the twentieth time Lars Peter tried to +talk her over. "We can easily get Johansens to keep +an eye on everything—and can send the children over +to them for a few days," said he.</p> + +<p>But Ditte was not to be shaken. Her mother was +nothing to her, people could say what they liked; she +<i>would</i> not go and see her in prison. And her father +ought to stop talking like that or she would be angry; +it reminded her of Granny. She hated her mother +with all her heart, in a manner strange for her years. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +She never mentioned her, and when the others spoke +of her, she would be dumb. Good and self-sacrificing +as she was in all other respects, on this point she was +hard as a stone.</p> + +<p>To Lars Peter's good-natured mind this hatred was +a mystery. However much he tried to reconcile her, in +the end he had to give up.</p> + +<p>"Look and see if there's anything you want for +the house," said he.</p> + +<p>"I want a packet of salt, the stuff they have at the +grocer's is too coarse to put on the table. And I must +have a little spice. I'm going to try making a cake myself, +bought cakes get dry so quickly."</p> + +<p>"D'you think you can?" said Lars Peter admiringly.</p> + +<p>"There's more to be got," Ditte continued undisturbed, +"but I'd better write it down; or you'll forget +half the things like you did last time."</p> + +<p>"Ay, that's best," answered Lars Peter meekly. +"My memory's not as good as it used to be. I don't +know—I used to do hundreds of errands without forgetting +one. Maybe 'tis with your mother. And then +belike—a man gets old. Grandfather, he could remember +like a printed book, to the very last."</p> + +<p>Ditte got up quickly and shook out her frock.</p> + +<p>"There!" said she with a yawn. They put the rags +in sacks and tied them up.</p> + +<p>"This'll fetch a little money," said Lars Peter dragging +the sacks to the door, where heaps of old iron and +other metals lay in readiness to be taken to the town. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +"And what's the time now?—past six. Ought to be +daylight soon."</p> + +<p>As Ditte opened the door the frosty air poured in. +In the east, over the lake, the skies were green, with +a touch of gold—it was daybreak. In the openings in +the ice the birds began to show signs of life. It was +as if the noise from the Crow's Nest had ushered in +the day for them, group after group began screaming +and flew towards the sea.</p> + +<p>"It'll be a fine day," said Lars Peter as he dragged +out the cart. "There ought to be a thaw soon." He +began loading the cart, while Ditte went in to light the +fire for the coffee.</p> + +<p>As Lars Peter came in, the flames from the open +fireplace were flickering towards the ceiling, the room +was full of a delicious fragrance, coffee and something +or other being fried. Kristian was kneeling in front +of the fire, feeding it with heather and dried sticks, +and Ditte stood over a spluttering frying-pan, stirring +with all her might. The two little ones sat on the end +of the bench watching the operations with glee, the +reflection of the fire gleaming in their eyes. The daylight +peeped in hesitatingly through the frozen window-panes.</p> + +<p>"Come along, father!" said Ditte, putting the +frying-pan on the table on three little wooden supports. +"'Tis only fried potatoes, with a few slices of bacon, +but you're to eat it all yourself!"</p> + +<p>Lars Peter laughed and sat down at the table. He +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +soon, however, as was his wont, began giving some to +the little ones; they got every alternate mouthful. +They stood with their faces over the edge of the table, +and wide open mouths—like two little birds. Kristian +had his own fork, and stood between his father's knees +and helped himself. Ditte stood against the table looking +on, with a big kitchen knife in her hand.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you going to have anything?" asked Lars +Peter, pushing the frying-pan further on to the table.</p> + +<p>"There's not a scrap more than you can eat yourself; +we'll have something afterwards," answered Ditte, +half annoyed. But Lars Peter calmly went on feeding +them. He did not enjoy his food when there were no +open mouths round him.</p> + +<p>"'Tis worth while waking up for this, isn't it?" +said he, laughing loudly; his voice was deep and +warm again.</p> + +<p>As he drank his coffee, Söster and Povl hurried into +their clothes; they wanted to see him off. They ran +in between his and the nag's legs as he was harnessing.</p> + +<p>The sun was just rising. There was a red glitter +over the ice-covered lake and the frosted landscape, the +reeds crackled as if icicles were being crushed. From +the horse's nostrils came puffs of air, showing white +in the morning light, and the children's quick short +breaths were like gusts of steam. They jumped round +the cart in their cloth shoes like two frolicsome young +puppies. "Love to Mother!" they shouted over and +over again. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lars Peter bent down from the top of the load, +where he was half buried between the sacks. "Shan't +I give her your love too?" asked he. Ditte turned +away her head.</p> + +<p>Then he took his whip and cracked it. And slowly +Klavs set off on his journey.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="II_CHAPTER_II" id="II_CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a><br /> +The Highroad</span></h2> + + +<p>"He's even more fond of the highroad than a +human being," Lars Peter used to say of +Klavs, and this was true; the horse was always +in a good temper whenever preparations were +being made for a long journey. For the short trips +Klavs did not care at all; it was the real highroad trips +with calls to right and left, and stopping at night in +some stable, which appealed to him. What he found to +enjoy in it would be difficult to say; hardly for the sake +of a new experience—as with a man. Though God +knows—'twas a wise enough rascal! At all events Klavs +liked to feel himself on the highroad, and the longer the +trip the happier he would be. He took it all with the +same good temper—up hills where he had to strain +in the shafts, and downhill where the full weight of +the cart made itself felt. He would only stop when +the hill was unusually steep—to give Lars Peter an +opportunity of stretching his legs.</p> + +<p>To Lars Peter the highroad was life itself. It gave +daily bread to him and his, and satisfied his love of +roaming. Such a piece of highroad between rows of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +trimmed poplars with endless by-ways off to farms and +houses was full of possibilities. One could take this +turning or that, according to one's mood at the moment, +or leave the choice of the road to the nag. It always +brought forth something.</p> + +<p>And the highroad was only the outward sign of an +endless chain. If one liked to wander straight on, +instead of turning off, ay, then one would get far out +in the world—as far as one cared. He did not do it +of course; but the thought that it could be done was +something in itself.</p> + +<p>On the highroad he met people of his own blood: +tramps who crawled up without permission on to his +load, drawing a bottle from their pocket, offering it to +him, and talking away. They were people who traveled +far; yesterday they had come from Helsingör; in a +week's time they would perhaps be over the borders in +the south and down in Germany. They wore heavily +nailed boots, and had a hollow instead of a stomach, a +handkerchief round their throat and mittens on their +red wrists—and were full of good humor. Klavs +knew them quite well, and stopped of his own accord.</p> + +<p>Klavs also stopped for poor women and school-children; +Lars Peter and he agreed that all who cared +to drive should have that pleasure. But respectable +people they passed by; they of course would not condescend +to drive with the rag and bone man.</p> + +<p>They both knew the highroad with its by-ways +equally well. When anything was doing, such as a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +thrashing-machine in the field, or a new house being +built, one or other of them always stopped. Lars +Peter pretended that it was the horse's inquisitiveness. +"Well, have you seen enough?" he growled when +they had stood for a short while, and gathered up the +reins. Klavs did not mind the deception in the least, +and in no way let it interfere with his own inclinations; +Klavs liked his own way.</p> + +<p>Things must be black indeed, if the highroad did not +put the rag and bone man into a good temper. The +calm rhythmic trot of the nag's hoofs against the firm +road encouraged him to hum. The trees, the milestones +with the crown above King Christian the Fifth's +initials, the endless perspective ahead of him, with +all its life and traffic—all had a cheering effect on +him.</p> + +<p>The snow had been trodden down, and only a thin +layer covered with ice remained, which rang under the +horse's big hoofs. The thin light air made breathing +easy, and the sun shone redly over the snow. It was +impossible to be anything but light-hearted. But then +he remembered the object of the drive, and all was dark +again.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter had never done much thinking on his own +account, or criticized existence. When something or +other happened, it was because it could not be otherwise—and +what was the good of speculating about it? +When he was on the cart all these hours, he only +hummed a kind of melody and had a sense of well-being. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +"I wonder what mother'll have for supper?" +he would think, or "maybe the kiddies'll come to meet +me today." That was all. He took bad and good +trade as it came, and joy and sorrow just the same; he +knew from experience that rain and sunshine come by +turns. It had been thus in his parents' and grandparents' +time, and his own had confirmed it. Then why +speculate? If the bad weather lasted longer than +usual, well, the good was so much better when it +came.</p> + +<p>And complaints were no good. Other people beside +himself had to take things as they came. He had never +had any strong feeling that there was a guiding hand +behind it all.</p> + +<p>But now he <i>had</i> to think, however useless he found it. +Suddenly something would take him mercilessly by the +neck, and always face him with the same hopeless: +<i>Why</i>? A thousand times the thought of Sörine would +crop up, making everything heavy and sad.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter had been thoroughly out of luck before—and +borne it as being part of his life's burden. He +had a thick skull and a broad back—what good were +they but for burdens; it was not his business to whimper +or play the weakling. And fate had heaped troubles +upon him: if he could bear that, then he can bear this!—till +at last he would break down altogether under the +burden. But his old stolidness was gone.</p> + +<p>He had begun to think of his lot—and could fathom +nothing: it was all so meaningless, now he compared +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +himself with others. As soon as ever he got into the +cart, and the nag into its old trot, these sad thoughts +would reappear, and his mind would go round and +round the subject until he was worn out. He could not +unravel it. Why was he called the rag and bone man, +and treated as if he were unclean? He earned his +living as honestly as any one else. Why should his +children be jeered at like outcasts—and his home called +the Crow's Nest? And why did the bad luck follow +him?—and fate? There was a great deal now that he +did not understand, but which must be cleared up. Misfortune, +which had so often knocked at his door without +finding him at home, had now at last got its foot +well inside the door.</p> + +<p>However much Lars Peter puzzled over Sörine, he +could find no way out of it. It was his nature to look on +the bright side of things; and should it be otherwise +they were no sooner over than forgotten. He had only +seen her good points. She had been a clever wife, +good at keeping the home together—and a hard +worker. And she had given him fine children, that +alone made up for everything. He had been fond of +her, and proud of her firmness and ambition to get +on in the world. And now as a reward for her pride +she was in prison! For a long time he had clung to the +hope that it must be a mistake. "Maybe they'll let +her out one day," he thought. "Then she'll be standing +in the doorway when you return, and it's all been +a misunderstanding." It was some time now since the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +sentence had been pronounced, so it must be right. But +it was equally difficult to understand!</p> + +<p>There lay a horseshoe on the road. The nag +stopped, according to custom, and turned its head. +Lars Peter roused himself from his thoughts and peered +in front of the horse, then drove on again. Klavs could +not understand it, but left it at that: Lars Peter could +no longer be bothered to get off the cart to pick up an +old horseshoe.</p> + +<p>He began whistling and looked out over the landscape +to keep his thoughts at bay. Down in the marsh +they were cutting ice for the dairies—it was high time +too! And the farmer from Gadby was driving off in his +best sledge, with his wife by his side. Others could +enjoy themselves! If only he had his wife in the cart—driving +in to the Capital. There now—he was beginning +all over again! Lars Peter looked in the opposite +direction, but what good was that. He could not get +rid of his thoughts.</p> + +<p>A woman came rushing up the highroad, from a +little farm. "Lars Peter!" she cried. "Lars Peter!" +The nag stopped.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to town?" she asked breathlessly, +leaning on the cart.</p> + +<p>"Ay, that I am," Lars Peter answered quietly, as if +afraid of her guessing his errand.</p> + +<p>"Oh! would you mind buying us a chamber?"</p> + +<p>"What! you're getting very grand!" Lars Peter's +mouth twisted in some semblance of a smile. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ay, the child's got rheumatic fever, and the doctor +won't let her go outside," the woman explained excusingly.</p> + +<p>"I'll do that for you. How big d'you want it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, as we must have it, it might as well be a big +one. Here's sixpence, it can't be more than that." She +gave him the money wrapped in a piece of paper, and +the nag set off again.</p> + +<p>When they had got halfway, Lars Peter turned off +to an inn. The horse needed food, and something enlivening +for himself would not come amiss. He felt +downhearted. He drove into the yard, partly unharnessed, +and put on its nosebag.</p> + +<p>The fat inn-keeper came to the door, peering out +with his small pig's eyes, which were deeply embedded +in a huge expanse of flesh, like two raisins in rising +dough. "Why, here comes the rag and bone man +from Sand!" he shouted, shaking with laughter. +"What brings such fine company today, I +wonder?"</p> + +<p>Lars Peter had heard this greeting before, and +laughed at it, but today it affected him differently. He +had come to the end of his patience. His blood began +to rise. The long-suffering, thoughtful, slothful Lars +Peter turned his head with a jerk—showing a gleam of +teeth. But he checked himself, took off his cape, and +spread it over the horse.</p> + +<p>"'Tis he for sure," began the inn-keeper again. +"His lordship of the Crow's Nest, doing us the honor." +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> + +<p>But this time Lars Peter blazed out.</p> + +<p>"Hold your mouth, you beer-swilling pig!" he thundered, +stepping towards him with his heavy boots, +"or I'll soon close it for you!"</p> + +<p>The inn-keeper's open mouth closed with a snap. +His small pig's eyes, which almost disappeared when +he laughed, opened widely in terror. He turned round +and rushed in. When Lars Peter, with a frown on his +face, came tramping into the tap-room, he was bustling +about, whistling softly with his fat tongue between his +teeth and looking rather small.</p> + +<p>"A dram and a beer," growled the rag and bone +man, seating himself by the table and beginning to +unpack his food.</p> + +<p>The inn-keeper came towards him with a bottle and +two glasses. He glanced uncertainly at Lars Peter, +and poured out two brimming glassfuls. "Your health, +old friend," said he ingratiatingly. The rag and bone +man drank without answering his challenge; he had +given the fat lump a fright, and now he was making up +to him. It was odd to be able to make people shiver—quite +a new feeling. But he rather liked it. And it +did him good to give vent to his anger; he had a feeling +of well-being after having let off steam. Here sat this +insolent landlord trying to curry favor, just because +one would not put up with everything. Lars Peter +felt a sudden inclination to put his foot upon his neck, +and give him a thorough shock. Or bend him over so +that head and heels met. Why should he not use his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +superior strength once in a while? Then perhaps +people would treat him with something like respect.</p> + +<p>The inn-keeper sank down on a chair in front of him. +"Well, Lars Peter Hansen, so you've become a socialist?" +he began, blinking his eyes.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter dropped his heavy fist on the table so +that everything jumped—the inn-keeper included. +"I'm done with being treated like dirt—do you understand! +I'm just as good as you and all the rest of them. +And if I hear any more nonsense, then to hell with +you all."</p> + +<p>"Of course, of course! 'twas only fun, Lars Peter +Hansen. And how's every one at home? Wife and +children well?" He still blinked whenever Lars Peter +moved.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter did not answer him, but helped himself to +another dram. The rascal knew quite well all about +Sörine.</p> + +<p>"D'you know—you should have brought the wife +with you. <a class="corr" name="TC_4" id="TC_4" title="Women-folk">Womenfolk</a> love a trip to town," the inn-keeper +tried again. Lars Peter looked suspiciously at +him.</p> + +<p>"What d'you mean by this tomfoolery?" he said +darkly. "You know quite well that she's in there."</p> + +<p>"What—is she? Has she run away from you +then?"</p> + +<p>Lars Peter took another glass. "She's locked up, +and you know it—curse you!" He put the glass down +heavily on the table. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> + +<p>The landlord saw it was no good pretending ignorance. +"I think I do remember hearing something +about it," said he. "How was it—got into trouble +with the law somehow?"</p> + +<p>The rag and bone man gave a hollow laugh. "I +should think so! She killed her own mother, 'tis said." +The spirit was beginning to affect him.</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear! was it so bad as that?" sighed the +inn-keeper, turning and twisting as if he had a pain +inside. "And now you're going to the King, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>Lars Peter lifted his head. "To the King?" he +asked. The thought struck him, perhaps this was the +miracle he had been hoping for.</p> + +<p>"Ay, the King decides whether it's to be life or +death, you know. If there's any one he can't stand +looking at, he only says: 'Take that fellow and chop +off his head!' And he can let folk loose again too, if +he likes."</p> + +<p>"And how's the likes of me to get near the King?" +The rag and bone man laughed hopelessly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's easily done," said the inn-keeper airily. +"Every one in the country has the right to see the King. +When you get in there, just ask where he lives, any one +can tell you."</p> + +<p>"Hm, I know that myself," said Lars Peter with +assurance. "I was once nearly taken for the guards +myself—for the palace. If it hadn't been for having +flat feet, then——" +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, it isn't quite as easy as you think; he's got +so many mansions. The King's got no-one to associate +with, you see, as there's only one King in every land, +and talk to his wife always, no man could stand—the +King as little as we others. That's why he gets bored, +and moves from one castle to another, and plays at +making a visitor of himself. So you'd better make +inquiries. 'Twouldn't come amiss to get some one to +speak for you either. You've got money, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"I've got goods on the cart for over a hundred +crowns," said Lars Peter with pride.</p> + +<p>"That's all right, because in the Capital nearly all +the doors need oiling before they are opened. Maybe +the castle gate will creak a little, but then——" The +inn-keeper rubbed one palm against the other.</p> + +<p>"Then we'll oil it," said Lars Peter, with a wave +of his arm as he got up.</p> + +<p>He had plenty of courage now, and hummed as he +harnessed the horse and got into the cart. Now he +knew what to do, and he was anxious to act. Day and +night he had been faced with the question of getting +Sörine out of prison, but how? It was no good trying +to climb the prison wall at night, and fetch her out, as +one read of in books. But he could go to the King! +Had he not himself nearly been taken into the King's +service as a guardsman? "He's got the height and +the build," they had said. Then they had noticed his +flat feet and rejected him; but still he had said he +almost——</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="II_CHAPTER_III" id="II_CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a><br /> +Lars Peter Seeks The King</span></h2> + + +<p>Lars Peter Hansen knew nothing of the Capital. +As a boy he had been there with his father, +but since then no opportunity had arisen for a trip to +Copenhagen. He and Sörine had frequently spoken of +taking their goods there and selling direct to the big +firms, instead of going the round of the small provincial +dealers, but nothing had ever come of it beyond talk. +But today the thing was to be done. He had seen +posters everywhere advertising: "The largest house +in Scandinavia for rags and bones and old metals," +and "highest prices given." It was the last statement +which had attracted him.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter sat reckoning up, as he drove along the +Lyngby road towards the eastern end of the city. Going +by prices at home he had a good hundred crowns' +worth of goods on the cart; and here it ought to fetch +at least twenty-five crowns more. That would perhaps +pay for Sörine's release. This was killing two birds +with one stone, getting Sörine out—and making money +on the top of it! All that was necessary was to keep +wide awake. He lifted his big battered hat and ran +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +his hand through his tousled mop of hair—he was in +a happy mood.</p> + +<p>At Trianglen he stopped and inquired his way. Then +driving through Blegdamsvej he turned into a side +street. Over a high wooden paling could be seen mountains +of old rusty iron: springs and empty tins, bent +iron beds, dented coal-boxes red with rust, and pails. +This must be the place. On the signboard stood: +<i>Levinsohn & Sons, Export</i>.</p> + +<p>The rag and bone man turned in through the gateway +and stopped bewildered as he came into the yard. Before +him were endless erections of storing-places and +sheds, one behind the other, and inclosures with masses +of rags, dirty cotton-wool and rusty iron and tin-ware. +From every side other yards opened out, and beyond +these more again. If he and Klavs went gathering rags +until Doomsday, they would never be able to fill one +yard. He sat and gazed, overwhelmed. Involuntarily +he had taken his hat off, but then, gathering himself +together, he drove into one of the sheds and jumped +down from the cart. Hearing voices, he opened the +door. In the darkness sat some young girls sorting +some filth or other, which looked like blood-stained +rags.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, what a dove-cote to land in," broke out +Lars Peter in high spirits. "What's that you're doing, +sorting angels' feathers?" The room was filled with +his good-humored chuckles.</p> + +<p>As quick as lightning one of the girls grasped a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +bundle and threw it at him. He only just escaped it +by bending his head, and the thing brought up against +the door-post. It was cotton-wool covered with blood +and matter—from the hospital dust-bins. He knew +that there was a trade in this in the Capital. "Puh!" +he said in disgust, and hurried out. "Filthy, pish!" +A shout of laughter went up from the girls.</p> + +<p>From the head-office a little spectacled gentleman +came tripping towards him. "What—what are you +doing here?" he barked from afar, almost falling over +himself in his eagerness. "It—it's no business of yours +prying in here!" He was dreadfully dirty and unshaven, +his collar and frock-coat looked as if they had +been fished up from a ragbag. No, the trade never +made Lars Peter as dirty as that; why, the dirt was in +layers on this old man. But of course—this business +was ever so much bigger than his own! Good-naturedly, +he took off his hat.</p> + +<p>"Are you Mr. Levinsohn?" asked he, when the old +man had finished. "I've got some goods."</p> + +<p>The old man stared at him speechless with surprise +that any one could be so impudent as to take him for +the head of the firm. "Oh, you're looking for Mr. +Levinsohn," he said searchingly, "indeed?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, I've got some goods I want to sell."</p> + +<p>Now the old man understood. "And you must see +him, himself—it's a matter of life and death—eh? No +one else in the whole world can buy those goods from +you, or the shaft'll break and the rags'll fall out and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +break to pieces, and Heaven knows what! So you must +see Mr. Levinsohn himself." He looked the rag +and bone man up and down, almost bursting with +scorn.</p> + +<p>"Well, I shouldn't mind seeing him himself," Lars +Peter patiently said.</p> + +<p>"Then you'd better drive down to the Riviera with +your dust-cart, my good man."</p> + +<p>"What, where?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, to the Riviera!" The old man rubbed his +hands. He was enjoying himself immensely. "It's +only about fourteen hundred miles from here—over +there towards the south. The best place to find him is +Monte Carlo—between five and seven. And his wife +and daughters—I suppose you want to see them too? +Perhaps a little flirtation? A little walk—underneath +the palm-trees, what?"</p> + +<p>"Good Lord! is he a grand sort like that," said +Lars Peter, crestfallen. "Well—maybe I can trade +with you?"</p> + +<p>"At your service, Mr. Jens Petersen from—Sengelöse; +if you, sir, will condescend to deal with a +poor devil like me."</p> + +<p>"I may just as well tell you that my name is Lars +Peter Hansen—from Sand."</p> + +<p>"Indeed—the firm feels honored, highly honored, I +assure you!" The old man bustled round the cartload, +taking in the value at a glance, and talking all the +time. Suddenly he seized the nag by the head, but +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +quickly let go, as Klavs snapped at him. "We'll drive +it down to the other yard," said he.</p> + +<p>"I think we'd better leave the goods on the cart, +until we've agreed about the price," Lars Peter +thought; he was beginning to be somewhat suspicious.</p> + +<p>"No, my man, we must have the whole thing emptied +out, so that we can see what we're buying," said the +old man in quite another tone. "That's not our +way."</p> + +<p>"And I don't sell till I know my price. It's all +weighed and sorted, Lars Peter's no cheat."</p> + +<p>"No, no, of course not. So it's really you? Lars +Peter Hansen—and from Sand too—and no cheat. +Come with me into the office then."</p> + +<p>The rag and bone man followed him. He was a little +bewildered, was the man making a fool of him, or did +he really know him? Round about at home Lars Peter +of Sand was known by every one; had his name as a +buyer preceded him?</p> + +<p>He had all the weights in his head, and gave the +figures, while the old man put them down. In the +midst of this he suddenly realized that the cart had +disappeared. He rushed out, and down in the other +yard found two men engaged in unloading the cart. +For the second time today Lars Peter lost his temper. +"See and get those things on to the cart again," he +shouted, picking up his whip. The two men hastily +took his measure; then without a word reloaded the +cart. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> + +<p>He was no longer in doubt that they would cheat him. +The cursed knaves! If they had emptied it all out +on to the heap, then he could have whistled for his own +price. He drove the cart right up to the office door, +and kept the reins on his arm. The old fox stood by his +desk, looking at him out of the corners of his eyes. +"Were they taking your beautiful horse from you?" +he asked innocently.</p> + +<p>"No, 'twas something else they wanted to have their +fingers in," growled Lars Peter; he would show them +that he could be sarcastic too. "Now then, will you +buy the goods or not?"</p> + +<p>"Of course we'll buy them. Look here, I've +reckoned it all up. It'll be exactly fifty-six crowns—highest +market price."</p> + +<p>"Oh, go to the devil with your highest market +price!" Lars Peter began mounting the cart again.</p> + +<p>The old man looked at him in surprise through his +spectacles: "Then you won't sell?"</p> + +<p>"No, that I won't. I'd rather take it home again—and +get double the price."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you say so of course—Lars Peter Hansen's +no cheat. But what are we to do, my man? My conscience +won't allow me to send you dragging those +things home again—it would be a crime to this beautiful +horse." He approached the nag as if to pat it, +but Klavs laid back his ears and lashed his tail. This +praise of his horse softened Lars Peter, and the end +of it was that he let the load go for ninety crowns. A +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +cigar was thrown into the bargain. "It's from the +cheap box, so please don't light it until you get outside +the gate," said the impudent old knave. "Come again +soon!"</p> + +<p>Thanks! It would be some time before he came here +again—a pack of robbers! He asked the way to an inn +in Vestergade, where people from his neighborhood +generally stayed, and there he unharnessed.</p> + +<p>The yard was full of vehicles. Farmers with pipes +hanging from their lips and fur-coats unbuttoned were +loading their wagons. Here and there between the +vehicles were loiterers, with broad gold chains across +their chest and half-closed eyes. One of them came +up to Lars Peter. "Are you doing anything tonight?" +said he. "There's a couple of us here—retired +farmers—going to have a jolly evening together. We +want a partner." He drew a pack of cards from his +breast-pocket, and began shuffling them.</p> + +<p>No, Lars Peter had no time. "All the same, +thanks." "Who are those men?" he asked the stable-boy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they help the farmers to find their way about +town, when it's dark," answered the man, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Are they paid for that then?" asked Lars Peter +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes—and sometimes a good deal. But then +they fix up other things besides—lodging for the night +and everything. Even a wife they'll get for you, if +you like." +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, I don't care about that. If they'd only help +a man to get hold of his own wife!"</p> + +<p>"I don't think they do that. But you can try."</p> + +<p>No, Lars Peter would not do that. He realized +these were folk it was better to avoid. Then he sauntered +out into the town. At Hauserplads there was an +inn kept by a man he knew—he would look him up. +Maybe he could give him a little help in managing the +affair.</p> + +<p>The street-lamps were just being lit, although it was +not nearly dark; evidently there was no lack of money +here. Lars Peter clattered in his big boots down +towards Frue Plads, examining the houses as he went. +This stooping giant, with faded hat and cape, looked +like a wandering piece of the countryside. When he +asked the way his voice rang through the street—although +it was not loud for him. People stopped and +laughed. Then he laughed back again and made some +joke or other, which, though he did not mean it, +sounded like a storm between the rows of houses. +Gradually a crowd of children and young people +gathered and followed in his wake. When they shouted +after him he took it with good humor, but was not +altogether at his ease until he reached the tavern. Here +he took out his red pocket handkerchief and wiped the +perspiration from his forehead.</p> + +<p>"Hullo! Hans Mattisen," he shouted down into +the dark cellar. "D'you know an old friend again, +what?" His joy over having got so far made his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +voice sound still more overpowering than usual; there +was hardly room for it under the low ceiling.</p> + +<p>"Not so fast, not so fast!" came from a jolly voice +behind the counter, "wait until I get a light."</p> + +<p>When the gas was lit, they found they did not know +each other at all. Hans Mattisen had left years ago. +"Don't you worry about that," said the inn-keeper, +"sit down." After Lars Peter had seated himself, he +was given some lobscouse and a small bottle of wine, +and soon felt at peace with the world.</p> + +<p>The inn-keeper was a pleasant man with a keen sense +of humor. Lars Peter was glad of a talk with him, +and before he was aware of it, had poured out all his +troubles. Well, he had come down here to get advice; +and he had not gone far wrong either.</p> + +<p>"Is that all?" said the inn-keeper, "we'll soon put +that right. We've only to send a message to the Bandmaster."</p> + +<p>"Who's that?" asked Lars Peter.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he has the cleverest head in the world; there's +not a piece of music but he can manage it. Curious +fellow—never met one like him. For example, he can't +bear dogs, because once a police-dog took him for an +ordinary thief. He never can forget that. Therefore, +if he asks, you've only to say that dogs are a damned +nuisance—almost as loathsome as the police. He can't +stand them either. Hi! Katrine," he called into the +kitchen, "get hold of the Bandmaster quick, and tell +him to come along—give him plenty of drink too, for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +he must be thawed before you get anything out of +him."</p> + +<p>"No fear about that," said Lars Peter airily, putting +a ten-crown piece on the table, which the inn-keeper +quickly pocketed. "That's right, old man—that's doing +the thing properly," said he appreciatively. "I'll +see to the whiskey. You're a gentleman, that's +certain—you've got a well-filled pocketbook, I +suppose?"</p> + +<p>"I've got about a hundred crowns," answered Lars +Peter, fearing it would not suffice.</p> + +<p>"You shall see your wife!" shouted the inn-keeper, +shaking Lars Peter's hand violently. "You shall see +your wife as certain as I'm your friend! Perhaps she'll +be with you tonight. What do you think of that, eh, old +man?" He put his arm round Lars Peter's shoulders, +shaking him jovially.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter laughed and was moved—he almost had +tears in his eyes. He was a little overcome by the +warmth of the room and the whiskey.</p> + +<p>A tall thin gentleman came down into the cellar. +He wore a black frock-coat, but was without waistcoat +and collar—perhaps because he had been sent for +in such a hurry. He had spectacles on, and looked on +the whole a man of authority. He had a distinguished +appearance, somewhat like a town-crier or a conjurer +from the market-place. His voice was shrill and +cracked, and he had an enormous larynx.</p> + +<p>The inn-keeper treated him with great deference. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +"G'day, sir," said he, bowing low—"here's a man +wants advice. He's had an accident, his wife's having a +holiday at the King's expense."</p> + +<p>The conductor glanced rather contemptuously at the +rag and bone man's big shabby figure. But the inn-keeper +winked one eye, and said, "I mustn't forget the +beer-man." He went behind the desk and wrote on a +slate, "100." The Bandmaster glanced at the figure +and nodded to himself, then sat down and began to +question Lars Peter—down to every detail. He considered +for a few minutes, and then said, turning +towards the <a class="corr" name="TC_5" id="TC_5" title="innkeeper">inn-keeper</a>, "Alma must tackle this—she's +playing with the <i>princess</i>, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course!" shouted the inn-keeper, delightedly. +"Of course Alma can put it right, but tonight——?" +He looked significantly at the Bandmaster.</p> + +<p>"Leave it to me, my dear friend. Just you leave it +to me," said the other firmly.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter tried hard to follow their conversation. +They were funny fellows to listen to, although the case +itself was serious enough. He began to feel drowsy +with the heat of the room—after his long day in the +fresh air.</p> + +<p>"Well, my good man, you wish to see the King?" +said the Bandmaster, taking hold of the lapel of his +coat. Lars Peter pulled himself together.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to try that way, yes," he answered with +strained attention. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Very well, then listen. I'll introduce you to my +niece, who plays with the princess. This is how it +stands, you see—but it's between ourselves—the +<i>princess</i> rather runs off the lines at times, she gets so +sick of things, but it's incognito, you understand—unknowingly, +we say—and then my niece is always by +her side. You'll meet her—and the rest you must do +yourself."</p> + +<p>"H'm, I'm not exactly dressed for such fine society," +said Lars Peter, looking down at himself. "And I'm +out of practice with the womenfolk—if it had been in +my young days, now——!"</p> + +<p>"Don't worry about that," said his friend, "people +of high degree often have the most extraordinary taste. +It would be damned strange if the <i>princess</i> doesn't fall +in love with you. And if she once takes a fancy to you, +you may bet your last dollar that your case is in good +hands."</p> + +<p>The inn-keeper diligently refilled their glasses, and +Lars Peter looked more and more brightly at things. +He was overcome by the Bandmaster's grand connections, +and his ability in finding ways and means—exceedingly +clever people he had struck upon. And when +Miss Alma came, full-figured and with a curled fringe, +his whole face beamed. "What a lovely girl," said +he warmly, "just the kind I'd have liked in the old +days."</p> + +<p>Miss Alma at once wanted to sit on his knee, but Lars +Peter kept her at arms' length. "I've got a wife," said +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +he seriously. Sörine should have no grounds for complaint. +A look from the Bandmaster made Alma draw +herself up.</p> + +<p>"Just wait until the <i>princess</i> comes, then you'll see +a lady," said he to Lars Peter.</p> + +<p>"She's not coming. She's at a ball tonight," said +Miss Alma with resentment.</p> + +<p>"Then we'll go to the palace and find her." The +Bandmaster took his hat, and they all got up.</p> + +<p>Outside in the street, a half-grown girl ran up and +whispered something to him.</p> + +<p>"Sorry, but I must go," said he to Lars Peter—"my +mother-in-law is at death's door. But you'll have +a good time all right."</p> + +<p>"Come along," cried Miss Alma, taking the rag and +bone man by the arm. "We two are going to see +life!"</p> + +<p>"Hundred—er—kisses, Alma! don't forget," called +the Bandmaster after them. His voice sounded like a +market crier's.</p> + +<p>"All right," answered Miss Alma, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"What's that he says?" asked Lars Peter wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"Don't you bother your head about that fool," she +answered, and drew him along.</p> + +<hr class="w45" /> + +<p>Next morning Lars Peter woke early—as usual. +There was a curious illumination in the sky, and with +terror he tumbled quickly out of bed. Was the barn on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +fire? Then suddenly he remembered that he was not +at home; the gleam of light on the window-panes came +from the street lamps, which struggled with the dawn +of day.</p> + +<p>He found himself in a dirty little room, at the top +of the house—as far as he could judge from the roofs +all round him. How in the name of goodness had he +got here?</p> + +<p>He seated himself on the edge of the bed, and began +dressing. Slowly one thing after another began to +dawn on him. His head throbbed like a piston rod—headache! +He heard peculiar sounds: chattering +women, hoarse rough laughter, oaths—and from outside +came the peal of church bells. Through all the +noise and tobacco smoke came visions of a fair fringe, +and soft red lips—the <i>princess</i>! But how did he come +to be here, in an iron bed with a lumpy mattress, and +ragged quilt?</p> + +<p>He felt for his watch to see the time—the old silver +watch had vanished! Anxiously he searched his inner +pocket—thank Heaven! the pocketbook was there alright. +But what had happened to his watch? Perhaps +it had fallen on the floor. He hurried into his clothes, +to look for it—the big leather purse felt light in his +pocket. It was empty! He opened his pocketbook—that +too was empty!</p> + +<p>Lars Peter scrambled downstairs, dreading lest any +one should see him, slipped out into one of the side +streets, and stumbled to the inn, harnessed the nag and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> +set off. He began to long for the children at home—yes, +and for the cows and pigs too.</p> + +<p>Not until he was well outside the town, with a cold +wind blowing on his forehead, did he remember Sörine. +And, suddenly realizing the full extent of his disaster, +he broke down and sobbed helplessly.</p> + +<p>He halted at the edge of the wood—just long enough +for Klavs to have a feed. He himself had no desire for +food then. He was on the highroad again, and sat +huddled up in the cart, while the previous evening's +debauch sang through his head.</p> + +<p>At one place a woman came running towards him. +"Lars Peter!" she shouted, "Lars Peter!" The nag +stopped. Lars Peter came to himself with a jerk; +without a word he felt in his waistcoat pocket, +gave her back her coin, and whipped up the +horse.</p> + +<p>On the highroad, some distance from home, a group +of children stood waiting. Ditte had not been able to +manage them any longer. They were cold and in tears. +Lars Peter took them up into the cart, and they gathered +round him, each anxious to tell him all the +news. He took no notice of their chatter. Ditte +sat quietly, looking at him out of the corners of her +eyes.</p> + +<p>When he was seated at his meal, she said, +"Where're all the things you were to buy for me?" +He looked up startled, and began stammering something +or other—an excuse—but stopped in the middle. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How was mother getting on?" asked Ditte then. +She was sorry for him, and purposely used the word +"mother" to please him.</p> + +<p>For a few moments his features worked curiously. +Then he buried his face in his hands.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="II_CHAPTER_IV" id="II_CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a><br /> +Little Mother Ditte</span></h2> + + +<p>At first, Lars Peter told them nothing of his visit +to the Capital. But Ditte was old enough to +read between the lines, and drew her own conclusions. +At all events, her commission had not been +executed. Sörine, for some reason or other, he had not +seen either, as far as she could understand; and no +money had been brought home. Apparently it had all +been squandered—spent in drink no doubt.</p> + +<p>"Now he'll probably take to getting drunk, like +Johansen and the others in the huts," she thought with +resignation. "Come home and make a row because +there is nothing to eat—and beat us."</p> + +<p>She was prepared for the worst, and watched him +closely. But Lars Peter came home steady as usual. +He returned even earlier than before. He longed for +children and home when he was away. And, as was his +custom, he gave an account of what he had made and +spent. He would clear out the contents of his trouser-pockets +with his big fist, spreading the money out over +the table, so that they could count it together and lay +their plans accordingly. But now he liked a glass with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +his meals! Sörine had never allowed him this, there +was no need for it—said she—it was a waste of money. +Ditte gave it willingly, and took care to have it ready +for him—after all, he was a man!</p> + +<p>Lars Peter was really ashamed of his trip to town, +and not least of all that he had been made such a fool +of. The stupid part of it was that he remembered so +little of what had happened. Where had he spent the +night—and in what society? From a certain time in the +evening until he woke the following morning in that +filthy bedroom, all was like a vague dream—good or +bad, he knew not. But in spite of his shame he felt a +secret satisfaction in having for once kicked over the +traces. He had seen life. How long had he been +out? Jolting round from farm to farm, he would +brood on the question, would recall some parts of the +evening and suppress others—to get as much pleasure +out of it as possible. But in the end he was none the +wiser.</p> + +<p>However, it was impossible for him to keep any +secret for long. First one thing, then another, came +out, and eventually Ditte had a pretty good idea of +what had happened, and would discuss it with him. +In the evenings, when the little ones were in bed, they +would talk it over.</p> + +<p>"But don't you think she was a real princess?" +asked Ditte each time. She always came back to this—it +appealed to her vivid imagination and love of +adventure. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The Lord only knows," answered her father +thoughtfully. He could not fathom how he could have +been such a fool; he had managed so well with the Jews +in the stable-yard. "Ay, the Lord only knows!"</p> + +<p>"And the Bandmaster," said Ditte eagerly, "he +must have been a wonderful man."</p> + +<p>"Ay, that's true—a conjurer! He made I don't +know how many drinks disappear without any one seeing +how it was done. He held the glass on the table +in his left hand, slapped his elbow with his right—and +there it was empty."</p> + +<p>To Ditte it was a most exciting adventure, and incidents +that had seemed far from pleasant to Lars Peter +became wonders in Ditte's version of the affair. Lars +Peter was grateful for the child's help, and together +they spoke of it so long, that slowly, and without his +being aware of it, the whole experience assumed quite +a different aspect.</p> + +<p>It certainly had been a remarkable evening. And the +princess—yes, she must have been there in reality, +strange though it sounded that a beggar like him should +have been in such company. But the devil of a woman +she was to drink and smoke. "Ay, she was real enough—or +I wouldn't have been so taken with her," admitted +he.</p> + +<p>"Then you've slept with a real princess—just like +the giant in the fairy tale," broke out Ditte, clapping her +hands in glee. "You have, father!" She looked +beamingly at him. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lars Peter was silent with embarrassment, and sat +blinking at the lamp—he had not looked upon it in the +innocent light of a fairy tale. To him it seemed—well, +something rather bad—it was being unfaithful to +Sörine.</p> + +<p>"Ay, that's true," said he. "But then, will Mother +forgive it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind!" answered Ditte. "But it was +a good thing you didn't cut yourself!"</p> + +<p>Lars Peter lifted his head, looking uncertainly at her.</p> + +<p>"Ay, because there must have been a drawn sword +between you—there always is. You see, princesses are +too grand to be touched."</p> + +<p>"Oh—ay! that's more than likely." Lars Peter +turned this over in his mind. The explanation pleased +him, and he took it to himself; it was a comforting idea. +"Ay, 'tis dangerous to have dealings with princesses, +even though a man doesn't know it at the time," +said he.</p> + +<hr class="w45" /> + +<p>Lars Peter thought no more of visiting Sörine in +prison. He would have liked to see her and clasp her +hand, even though it were only through an iron grating; +but it was not to be. He must have patience until she +had served her time.</p> + +<p>To him the punishment was that they had to live +apart in the coming years. He lacked imagination to +comprehend Sörine's life behind prison walls, and +therefore he could not think of her for long at a time. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +But unconsciously he missed her, so much so that he felt +depressed.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter was no longer eager to work—the motive +power was lacking. He was too easily contented with +things as they were; there was no-one to taunt him with +being poorer than others. Ditte was too good-natured; +she was more given to taking burdens on her own +shoulders.</p> + +<p>He had grown quieter, and stooped more than ever. +He played less with the children, and his voice had lost +some of its ring. He never sang now, as he drove up +to the farms to trade; he felt that people gossiped about +him and his affairs, and this took away his confidence. +It made itself felt when housewives and maids no longer +smiled and enjoyed his jokes or cleared out all their +old rubbish for him. He was never invited inside now—he +was the husband of a murderess! Trade +dwindled away—not that he minded—it gave him more +time with the children at home.</p> + +<p>At the same time there was less to keep house on. +But, thanks to Ditte, they scraped along; little as she +was, she knew how to make both ends meet, so they +did not starve.</p> + +<p>There was now plenty of time for Lars Peter to +build. Beams and stones lay all round as a silent reproach +to him.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you going to do anything with it?" +Ditte would ask. "Folk say it's lying there wasting." +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Where did you hear that?" asked Lars Peter +bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Oh—at school!"</p> + +<p>So they talked about that too! There was not much +where he was concerned which was not torn to pieces. +No, he had no desire to build. "We've got a roof over +our heads," said he indifferently. "If any one thinks +our hut's not good enough, let them give us another." +But the building materials remained there as an accusation; +he was not sorry when they were overgrown with +grass.</p> + +<p>What good would it do to build? The Crow's Nest +was, and would remain, the Crow's Nest, however +much they tried to polish it up. It had not grown in +esteem by Sörine's deed. She had done her best to give +them a lift up in the world—and had only succeeded in +pushing them down to the uttermost depth. Previously, +it had only been misfortune which clung to the house, +and kept better people away; now it was crime. No-one +would come near the house after dusk, and by day +they had as little as possible to do with the rag and +bone man. The children were shunned; they were the +offspring of a murderess, and nothing was too bad to be +thought of them.</p> + +<p>The people tried to excuse their harshness, and justified +their behavior towards the family, by endowing +them with all the worst qualities. At one time it was +reported that they were thieves. But that died down, +and then they said that the house was haunted. Old +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> +Maren went about searching for her money; first one, +then another, had met her on the highroad at night, +on her way to the Crow's Nest.</p> + +<p>The full burden of all this fell on the little ones. It +was mercilessly thrown in their faces by the other children +at school; and when they came home crying, Lars +Peter of course had to bear his share too. No-one +dared say anything to him, himself—let them try if +they dared! The rag and bone man's fingers tingled +when he heard all this backbiting—why couldn't he and +his be allowed to go in peace. He wouldn't mind catching +one of the rogues red-handed. He would knock him +down in cold blood, whatever the consequences might +be.</p> + +<p>Kristian now went to school too, in the infants' class. +The classes were held every other day, and his did not +coincide with Ditte's, who was in a higher class. He +had great difficulty in keeping up with the other children, +and could hardly be driven off in the mornings. +"They call me the young crow," he said, +crying.</p> + +<p>"Then call them names back again," said Ditte; +and off he had to go.</p> + +<p>But one day there came a message from the schoolmaster +that the boy was absent too often. The message +was repeated. Ditte could not understand it. She had +a long talk with the boy, and got out of him that he +often played truant. He made a pretense of going to +school, hung about anywhere all day long, and only +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +returned home when school-time was over. She said +nothing of this to Lars Peter—it would only have made +things worse.</p> + +<p>The unkindness from outside made them cling more +closely to one another. There was something of the +hunted animal in them; Lars Peter was reserved in +his manner to people, and was ready to fly out if attacked. +The whole family grew shy and suspicious. +When the children played outside the house, and saw +people approaching on the highroad, they would rush +in, peeping at them from behind the broken window-panes. +Ditte watched like a she-wolf, lest other children +should harm her little brothers and sister; when +necessary, she would both bite and kick, and she could +hurl words at them too. One day when Lars Peter was +driving past the school, the schoolmaster came out +and complained of her—she used such bad language. +He could not understand it; at home she was always +good and saw that the little ones behaved properly. +When he spoke of this, Ditte hardened.</p> + +<p>"I won't stand their teasing," said she.</p> + +<p>"Then stay at home from school, and then we'll +see what they'll do."</p> + +<p>"We'll only be fined for every day; and then one +day they'll come and fetch me," said Ditte bitterly.</p> + +<p>"They won't easily take you away by force. Somebody +else would have something to say to that." Lars +Peter nodded threateningly.</p> + +<p>But Ditte would not—she would take her chance. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +"I've just as much right to be there as the others," she +said stubbornly.</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, that's so. But it's a shame you should +suffer for other people's wickedness."</p> + +<p>Lars Peter seldom went out now, but busied himself +cultivating his land, so that he could be near the children +and home. He had a feeling of insecurity; people had +banded themselves together against him and his family, +and meant them no good. He was uneasy when away +from home, and constantly felt as if something had +happened. The children were delighted at the change.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to stay at home tomorrow too, +Father?" asked the two little ones every evening, gazing +up at him with their small arms round his huge legs. +Lars Peter nodded.</p> + +<p>"We must keep together here in the Crow's Nest," +said he to Ditte as if in excuse. "We can't get rid of +the 'rag and bone man'—or the other either; but no-one +can prevent us from being happy together."</p> + +<p>Well, Ditte did not object to his staying at home. +As long as they got food, the rest was of no consequence.</p> + +<p>Yes, they certainly must keep together—and get all +they could out of one another, otherwise life would +be too miserable to bear. On Sundays Lars Peter +would harness the nag and drive them out to Frederiksvaerk, +or to the other side of the lake. It was pleasant +to drive, and as long as they possessed a horse and +cart, they could not be utterly destitute. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> + +<p>Their small circle of acquaintances had vanished, but +thanks to Klavs they found new friends. They were a +cottager's family by the marsh—people whom no-one +else would have anything to do with. There were +about a dozen children, and though both the man and +his wife went out as day laborers, they could not keep +them, and the parish had to help. Lars Peter had frequently +given them a hand with his cart, but there had +never been much intercourse as long as Sörine was in +command of the Crow's Nest. But now it came quite +naturally. Birds of a feather flock together—so people +said.</p> + +<p>To the children it meant play-fellows and comrades +in disgrace. It was quite a treat to be asked over to +Johansens on a Sunday afternoon, or even more so to +have them at the Crow's Nest. There was a certain +satisfaction in having visitors under their roof, and +giving them the best the house could provide. For days +before they came Ditte would be busy making preparations: +setting out milk for cream to have with the coffee, +and buying in all they could afford. On Sunday morning +she would cut large plates of bread-and-butter, to +make it easier for her in the afternoon. As soon as the +guests arrived, they would have coffee, bread-and-butter +and home-made cakes. Then the children would play +"Touch," or "Bobbies and Thieves." Lars Peter +allowed them to run all over the place, and there would +be wild hunting in and outside the Crow's Nest. In the +meanwhile the grown-ups wandered about in the fields, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +looking at the crops. Ditte went with them, keeping +by the side of Johansen's wife, with her hands under +her apron, just as she did.</p> + +<p>At six o'clock they had supper, sandwiches with beer +and brandy; then they would sit for a short time talking, +before going home. There was the evening work +to be done, and every one had to get up early the next +morning.</p> + +<p>They were people even poorer than themselves. +They came in shining wooden shoes, and in clean blue +working clothes. They were so poor that in the winter +they never had anything to eat but herrings and potatoes, +and it delighted Ditte to give them a really good +meal: sandwiches of the best, and bottles of beer out +of which the cork popped and the froth overflowed.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="II_CHAPTER_V" id="II_CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a><br /> +The Little Vagabond</span></h2> + + +<p>Lars Peter stood by the water-trough where +Klavs was drinking his fill. They had been for +a long trip, and both looked tired and glad to +be home again.</p> + +<p>At times a great longing for the highroad came over +the rag and bone man, and he would then harness the +nag and set off on his old rounds again. The road +seemed to ease his trouble, and drew him further and +further away, so that he spent the night from home, returning +the following day. There was not much made +on these trips, but he always managed to do a little—and +his depression would pass off for the time being.</p> + +<p>He had just returned from one of these outings, and +stood in deep thought, happy to be home again, and to +find all was well. Now there should be an end to these +fits of wandering. Affairs at home required a man.</p> + +<p>Povl and his sister Else hurried out to welcome him; +they ran in and out between his legs, which to them were +like great thick posts, singing all the while. Sometimes +they would run between the nag's legs too, and the +wise creature would carefully lift its hoofs, as though +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +afraid of hurting them—they could stand erect between +their father's legs.</p> + +<p>Ditte came out from the kitchen door with a basket +on her arm. "Now, you're thinking again, father," +said she laughingly, "take care you don't step on the +children."</p> + +<p>Lars Peter pulled himself together and tenderly +stroked the rough little heads. "Where are you off +to?" asked he.</p> + +<p>"Oh, to the shop. I want some things for the +house."</p> + +<p>"Let Kristian go, you've quite enough to do without +that."</p> + +<p>"He hasn't come home from school yet—most likely +I'll meet him on the way."</p> + +<p>"Not home yet?—and it's nearly supper-time." +Lars Peter looked at her in alarm. "D'you think he +can be off on the highroad again?"</p> + +<p>Ditte shook her head. "I think he's been kept in—I'm +sure to meet him. It's a good thing too—he can +help me to carry the things home," she added tactfully.</p> + +<p>But Lars Peter could no longer be taken in. He had +just been thanking his stars that all was well on his +return, and had silently vowed to give up his wanderings—and +now this! The boy was at his old tricks +again, there was no doubt about that—he could see it +in the girl's eyes. It was in his children's blood, it +seemed, and much as he cared for them—his sins would +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +be visited on them. For the little ones' sake he was +struggling to overcome his own wandering bent, and +now it cropped out in them. It was like touching an +open wound—he felt sick at heart.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter led the horse into its stall, and gave it +some corn. He did not take off the harness. Unless +the boy returned soon, he would go and look for him. +It had happened before that Lars Peter and Klavs had +spent the night searching. And once Ditte had nearly +run herself off her legs looking for the boy, while all +the time he was quite happy driving round with his +father on his rounds. He had been waiting for Lars +Peter on the highroad, telling him he had a holiday—and +got permission to go with his father. There was +no trusting him.</p> + +<p>When Ditte got as far as the willows, she hid the +basket in them. She had only used the shop as an +excuse to get away from home and look for the boy, +without the father knowing anything was wrong. A +short distance along the highroad lived some of Kristian's +school-fellows, and she went there to make inquiries. +Kristian had not been at school that day. She +guessed as much—he had been in such a hurry to get +off in the morning! Perhaps he was in one of the fields, +behind a bush, hungry and wornout; it would be just +like him to lie there until he perished, if no-one found +him in the meanwhile.</p> + +<p>She ran aimlessly over the fields, asking every one she +met if they had seen her brother. "Oh, is it the young +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +scamp from the Crow's Nest?" people asked. "Ay, +he's got vagabond's blood in him."</p> + +<p>Then she ran on, as quickly as she could. Her legs +gave way, but she picked herself up and stumbled on. +She couldn't think of going home without the boy; +it would worry her father dreadfully! And Kristian +himself—her little heart trembled at the thought of his +being out all night.</p> + +<p>A man on a cart told her he had seen a boy seven or +eight years old, down by the marsh. She rushed down—and +there was Kristian. He stood outside a hut, +howling, the inhabitants gathered round him, and a man +holding him firmly by his collar.</p> + +<p>"Come to look for this young rascal?" said he. +"Ay, we've caught him, here he is. The children told +he'd shirked his school, and we thought we'd better +make sure of him, to keep him out of mischief."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's all right," said Ditte, bristling, "he +wouldn't do any harm." She pushed the man's hand +away, and like a little mother drew the boy towards her. +"Don't cry, dear," said she, drying his wet cheeks with +her apron. "Nobody'll dare to touch you."</p> + +<p>The man grinned and looked taken aback. "Do him +harm?" said he loudly. "And who is it sets fire to +other folk's houses and sets on peaceful womenfolk, +but vagabonds. And that's just the way they +begin."</p> + +<p>But Ditte and Kristian had rushed off. She held him +by his hand, scolding him as they went along. "There, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +you can hear yourself what the man says! And that's +what they'll think you are," said she. "And you know +it worries Father so. Don't you think he's enough +trouble without that?"</p> + +<p>"Why did Mother do it?" said Kristian, beginning +to cry.</p> + +<p>He was worn out, and as soon as they got home +Ditte put him quickly to bed. She gave him camomile +tea and put one of her father's stockings—the left one—round +his throat.</p> + +<p>During the evening she and her father discussed what +had happened. The boy lay tossing feverishly in bed. +"It's those mischievous children," said Ditte with passion. +"If I were there, they wouldn't dare to touch +him."</p> + +<p>"Why does the boy take any notice of it?" growled +Lars Peter. "You've been through it all yourself."</p> + +<p>"Ay, but then I'm a girl—boys mind much more +what's said to them. I give it them back again, but +when Kristian's mad with rage, he can't find anything +to say. And then they all shout and laugh at him—and +he takes off his wooden shoe to hit them."</p> + +<p>Lars Peter sat silent for a while. "We'd better see +and get away from here," said he.</p> + +<p>Kristian popped his head over the end of the bed. +"Yes, far, far away!" he shouted. This at all events +he had heard.</p> + +<p>"We'll go to America then," said Ditte, carefully +covering him up. "Go to sleep now, so that you'll be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +quite well for the journey." The boy looked at her +with big, trusting eyes, and was quiet.</p> + +<p>"'Tis a shame, for the boy's clever enough," whispered +Lars Peter. "'Tis wonderful how he can think +a thing out in his little head—and understand the ins +and outs of everything. He knows more about wheels +and their workings than I do. If only he hadn't got my +wandering ways in his blood."</p> + +<p>"That'll wear off in time!" thought Ditte. "At +one time I used to run away too."</p> + +<p>The following day Kristian was out again, and went +singing about the yard. A message had been sent to +school that he was ill, so that he had a holiday for a +few days—he was in high spirits. He had got hold of +the remains of an old perambulator which his father +had brought home, and was busy mending it, for the +little ones to ride in. Wheels were put on axles, now +only the body remained to be fixed. The two little +ones stood breathlessly watching him. Povl chattered +away, and wanted to help, every other moment his little +hands interfered and did harm. But sister Else stood +dumbly watching, with big thoughtful eyes. "She's +always dreaming, dear little thing," said Ditte, "the +Lord only knows what she dreams about."</p> + +<p>Ditte, to all appearance, never dreamed, but went +about wide awake from morning till night. Life had +already given her a woman's hard duties to fulfil, and +she had met them and carried them out with a certain +sturdiness. To the little ones she was the strict house-wife +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +and mother, whose authority could not be questioned, +and should the occasion arise, she would give +them a little slap. But underneath the surface was her +childish mind. About all her experiences she formed +her own opinions and conclusions, but never spoke of +them to any one.</p> + +<p>The most difficult of all for her to realize was that +Granny was dead, and that she could never, never, run +over to see her any more. Her life with Granny had +been her real childhood, the memory of which remained +vivid—unforgettable, as happy childhood is +when one is grown up. In the daytime the fact was +clear enough. Granny was dead and buried, and would +never come back again. But at night when Ditte was in +bed, dead-beat after a hard day, she felt a keen desire +to be a child again, and would cuddle herself up in the +quilt, pretending she was with Granny. And, as she +dropped off, she seemed to feel the old woman's arm +round her, as was her wont. Her whole body ached +with weariness, but Granny took it away—wise Granny +who could cure the rheumatism. Then she would remember +Granny's awful fight with Sörine. And Ditte +would awaken to find Lars Peter standing over her bed +trying to soothe her. She had screamed! He did not +leave her until she had fallen asleep again—with his +huge hand held against her heart, which fluttered like +that of a captured bird.</p> + +<p>At school, she never played, but went about all alone. +The others did not care to have her with them, and she +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +was not good at games either. She was like a hard +fruit, which had had more bad weather than sunshine. +Songs and childish rhymes sounded harsh on her lips, +and her hands were rough with work.</p> + +<p>The schoolmaster noticed all this. One day when +Lars Peter was passing, he called him in to talk of +Ditte. "She ought to be in entirely different surroundings," +said he, "a place where she can get new school-fellows. +Perhaps she has too much responsibility at +home for a child of her age. You ought to send her +away."</p> + +<p>To Lars Peter this was like a bomb-shell. He had +a great respect for the schoolmaster—he had passed +examinations and things—but how was he to manage +without his clever little housekeeper? "All of us ought +to go away," he thought. "There're only troubles and +worries here."</p> + +<p>No, there was nothing to look forward to here—they +could not even associate with their neighbors! He had +begun to miss the fellowship of men, and often thought +of his relations, whom he had not seen, and hardly +heard of, for many years. He longed for the old +homestead, which he had left to get rid of the family +nickname, and seriously thought of selling the little he +had, and turning homewards. Nicknames seemed to +follow wherever one went. There was no happiness to +be found here, and his livelihood was gone. "Nothing +seems to prosper here," thought he, saving of course the +blessed children—and they would go with him. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> + +<p>The thought of leaving did not make things better. +Everything was at a standstill. It was no good doing +anything until he began his new life—whatever that +might be.</p> + +<p>He and Ditte talked it over together. She would be +glad to leave, and did not mind where they went. She +had nothing to lose. A new life offered at least the +chance of a more promising future. Secretly, she had +her own ideas of what should come—but not here; the +place was accursed. Not exactly the prince in Granny's +spinning-song, she was too old for that—princes only +married princesses. But many other things might happen +besides that, given the opportunity. Ditte had no +great pretensions, but "forward" was her motto. "It +must be a place where there're plenty of people," said +she. "Kind people," she added, thinking most of her +little brothers and sister.</p> + +<p>Thus they talked it over until they agreed that it +would be best to sell up as soon as possible and leave. +In the meantime, something happened which for a +time changed their outlook altogether, and made them +forget their plans.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="II_CHAPTER_VI" id="II_CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a><br /> +The Knife-grinder</span></h2> + + +<p>One afternoon, when the children were playing +outside in the sunshine, Ditte stood just inside +the open kitchen door, washing up after dinner. Suddenly +soft music was heard a short distance away—a +run of notes; even the sunshine seemed to join in. +The little ones lifted their heads and gazed out into +space; Ditte came out with a plate and a dishcloth in +her hands.</p> + +<p>Up on the road just where the track to the Crow's +Nest turned off stood a man with a wonderful-looking +machine; he blew, to draw attention—on a flute or +clarionet, whatever it might be—and looked towards +the house. When no-one <a class="corr" name="TC_6" id="TC_6" title="apepared">appeared</a> in answer to his +call, he began moving towards the house, pushing the +machine in front of him. The little ones rushed indoors. +The man left his machine beside the pump and +came up to the kitchen door. Ditte stood barring the +way.</p> + +<p>"Anything want grinding, rivetting or soldering, +anything to mend?" he gabbled off, lifting his cap an +inch from his forehead. "I sharpen knives, scissors, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +razors, pitchforks or plowshares! Cut your corns, stick +pigs, flirt with the mistress, kiss the maids—and never +say no to a glass and a crust of bread!" Then he +screwed up his mouth and finished off with a song.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Knives to grind, knives to grind!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Any scissors and knives to grind?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knives and scissors to gri-i-ind!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>he sang at the top of his voice.</p> + +<p>Ditte stood in the doorway and laughed, with the +children hanging on to her skirt. "I've got a bread-knife +that won't cut," said she.</p> + +<p>The man wheeled his machine up to the door. It +was a big thing: water-tank, grindstone, a table for +rivetting, a little anvil and a big wheel—all built upon +a barrow. The children forgot their fear in their desire +to see this funny machine. He handled the bread-knife +with many flourishes, whistled over the edge to see how +blunt it was, pretended the blade was loose, and put it +on the anvil to rivet it. "It must have been used to +cut paving-stories with," said he. But this was absurd; +the blade was neither loose nor had it been misused. +He was evidently a mountebank.</p> + +<p>He was quite young; thin, and quick in his movements; +he rambled on all the time. And such nonsense +he talked! But how handsome he was! He had black +eyes and black hair, which looked quite blue in the sunshine.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter came out from the barn yawning; he had +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +been having an after-dinner nap. There were bits of +clover and hay in his tousled hair. "Where do you +come from?" he cried gaily as he crossed the yard.</p> + +<p>"From Spain," answered the man, showing his white +teeth in a broad grin.</p> + +<p>"From Spain—that's what my father always said +when any one asked him," said Lars Peter thoughtfully. +"Don't come from Odsherred by any chance?"</p> + +<p>The man nodded.</p> + +<p>"Then maybe you can give me some news of an +Amst Hansen—a big fellow with nine sons?... +The rag and bone man, he was called." The last was +added guiltily.</p> + +<p>"I should think I could—that's my father."</p> + +<p>"No!" said Lars Peter heartily, stretching out his +big hand. "Then welcome here, for you must be +Johannes—my youngest brother." He held the youth's +hand, looking at him cordially. "Oh, so that's what +you look like now; last time I saw you, you were only +a couple of months old. You're just like mother!"</p> + +<p>Johannes smiled rather shyly, and drew his hand +away; he was not so pleased over the meeting as was +his brother.</p> + +<p>"Leave the work and come inside," said Lars Peter, +"and the girl will make us a cup of coffee. Well, well! +To think of meeting like this. Ay, just like mother, you +are." He blinked his eyes, touched by the thought.</p> + +<p>As they drank their coffee, Johannes told all the news +from home. The mother had died some years ago and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> +the brothers were gone to the four corners of the earth. +The news of his mother's death was a great blow to +Lars Peter. "So she's gone?" said he quietly. "I've +not seen her since you were a baby. I'd looked forward +to seeing her again—she was always good, was +mother."</p> + +<p>"Well," Johannes drawled, "she was rather +grumpy."</p> + +<p>"Not when I was at home—maybe she was ill a +long time."</p> + +<p>"We didn't get on somehow. No, the old man for +me, he was always in a good temper."</p> + +<p>"Does he still work at his old trade?" asked Lars +Peter with interest.</p> + +<p>"No, that's done with long ago. He lives on his +pension!" Johannes laughed. "He breaks stones on +the roadside now. He's as hard as ever and will rule +the roost. He fights with the peasants as they pass, +and swears at them because they drive on his heap of +stones."</p> + +<p>Johannes himself had quarreled with his master and +had given him a black eye; and as he was the only +butcher who would engage him over there, he had left, +crossing over at Lynoes—with the machine which he +had borrowed from a sick old scissor-grinder.</p> + +<p>"So you're a butcher," said Lars Peter. "I thought +as much. You don't look like a professional grinder. +You're young and strong; couldn't you work for the +old man and keep him out of the workhouse?" +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, he's difficult to get on with—and he's all right +where he is. If a fellow wants to keep up with the +rest—and get a little fun out of life—there's only +enough for one."</p> + +<p>"I dare say. And what do you think of doing now? +Going on again?"</p> + +<p>Yes, he wanted to see something of life—with the +help of the machine outside.</p> + +<p>"And can you do all you say?"</p> + +<p>Johannes made a grimace. "I learned a bit from +the old man when I was a youngster, but it's more by +way of patter than anything else. A fellow's only to +ramble on, get the money, and make off before they've +time to look at the things. It's none so bad, and the +police can't touch you so long as you're working."</p> + +<p>"Is that how it is?" said Lars Peter. "I see you've +got the roving blood in you too. 'Tis a sad thing to +suffer from, brother!"</p> + +<p>"But why? There's always something new to be +seen! 'Tis sickening to hang about in the same place, +forever."</p> + +<p>"Ay, that's what I used to think; but one day a +man finds out that it's no good thinking that way! +Nothing thrives when you knock about the road to earn +your bread. No home and no family, nothing worth +having, however much you try to settle down."</p> + +<p>"But you've got both," said Johannes.</p> + +<p>"Ay, but it's difficult to keep things together. Living +from hand to mouth and nothing at your back—'tis +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +a poor life. And the worst of it is, we poor folk <i>have</i> +to turn that way; it seems better not to know where +your bread's to come from day by day and go hunting +it here, there and everywhere. It's that that makes us +go a-roving. But now you must amuse yourself for +a couple of hours; I've promised to cart some dung +for a neighbor!"</p> + +<p>During Lars Peter's absence Ditte and the children +showed their uncle round the farm. He was a funny +fellow and they very soon made friends. He couldn't +be used to anything fine, for he admired everything he +saw, and won Ditte's confidence entirely. She had +never heard the Crow's Nest and its belongings admired +before.</p> + +<p>He helped her with her evening work, and when +Lars Peter returned the place was livelier than it had +been for many a day. After supper Ditte made coffee +and put the brandy bottle on the table, and the brothers +had a long chat. Johannes told about home; he had a +keen sense of humor and spared neither home nor +brothers in the telling, and Lars Peter laughed till he +nearly fell off his chair.</p> + +<p>"Ay, that's right enough!" he cried, "just as it +would have been in the old days." There was a great +deal to ask about and many old memories to be refreshed; +the children had not seen their father so +genial and happy for goodness knows how long. It was +easy to see that his brother's coming had done him +good. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> + +<p>And they too had a certain feeling of well-being—they +had got a relation! Since Granny's death they had +seemed so alone, and when other children spoke of their +relations they had nothing to say. They had got an +uncle—next after a granny this was the greatest of all +relations. And he had come to the Crow's Nest in the +most wonderful manner, taking them unawares—and +himself too! Their little bodies tingled with excitement; +every other minute they crept out, meddling with +the wonderful machine, which was outside sleeping in +the moonlight. But Ditte soon put a stop to this and +ordered them to bed.</p> + +<p>The two brothers sat chatting until after midnight, +and the children struggled against sleep as long as they +possibly could, so as not to lose anything. But sleep +overcame them at last, and Ditte too had to give in. +She would not go to bed before the men, and fell asleep +over the back of a chair.</p> + +<p>Morning came, and with it a sense of joy; the children +opened their eyes with the feeling that something +had been waiting for them by the bedside the whole +night to meet them with gladness when they woke—what +was it? Yes, over there on the hook by the +door hung a cap—Uncle Johannes was here! He and +Lars Peter were already up and doing.</p> + +<p>Johannes was taken with everything he saw and was +full of ideas. "This might be made a nice little property," +he said time after time. "'Tis neglected, that's +all." +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ay, it's had to look after itself while I've been +out," answered Lars Peter in excuse. "And this +trouble with the wife didn't make things better either. +Maybe you've heard all about it over there?"</p> + +<p>Johannes nodded. "That oughtn't to make any +difference to you, though," said he.</p> + +<p>That day Lars Peter had to go down to the marsh +and dig a ditch, to drain a piece of the land. Johannes +got a spade and went with him. He worked with such +a will that Lars Peter had some difficulty in keeping +up with him. "'Tis easy to see you're young," said he, +"the way you go at it."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you ditch the whole and level it out? +'Twould make a good meadow," said Johannes.</p> + +<p>Ay, why not? Lars Peter did not know himself. +"If only a fellow had some one to work with," said he.</p> + +<p>"Do you get any peat here?" asked Johannes once +when they were taking a breathing space.</p> + +<p>"No, nothing beyond what we use ourselves; 'tis a +hard job to cut it."</p> + +<p>"Ay, when you use your feet! But you ought to +get a machine to work with a horse; then a couple of +men can do ever so many square feet in a day."</p> + +<p>Lars Peter became thoughtful. Ideas and advice +had been poured into him and he would have liked to +go thoroughly through them and digest them one by +one. But Johannes gave him no time.</p> + +<p>The next minute he was by the clay-pit. There was +uncommonly fine material for bricks, he thought. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ay, Lars Peter knew it all only too well. The first +summer he was married, Sörine had made bricks to +build the outhouse and it had stood all kinds of weather. +But one pair of hands could not do everything.</p> + +<p>And thus Johannes went from one thing to the other. +He was observant and found ways for everything; there +was no end to his plans. Lars Peter had to attend; it +was like listening to an old, forgotten melody. Marsh, +clay-pit and the rest had said the same year after year, +though more slowly; now he had hardly time to follow. +It was inspiriting, all at once to see a way out of all difficulties.</p> + +<p>"Look here, brother," said he, as they were at +dinner, "you put heart into a man again. How'd +you like to stay on here? Then we could put the place +in order together. There's not much in that roving +business after all."</p> + +<p>Johannes seemed to like the idea—after all, the highroad +was unsatisfactory as a means of livelihood!</p> + +<p>During the day they talked it over more closely and +agreed how to set about things; they would share as +brothers both the work and what it brought in. "But +what about the machine?" said Lars Peter. "That +must be returned."</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind that," said Johannes. "The man +can't use it; he's ill."</p> + +<p>"Ay, but when he gets up again, then he'll have +nothing to earn his living; we can't have that on our +conscience. I'm going down to the beach tomorrow +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> +for a load of herrings, so I'll drive round by Hundested +and put it off there. There's sure to be a fisherman +who'll take it over with him. I'd really thought of +giving up the herring trade; but long ago I bound myself +to take a load, and there should be a good catch +these days."</p> + +<p>At three o'clock next morning Lars Peter was ready +in the yard to drive to the fishing village; at the back +of the cart was the wonderful machine. As he was +about to start, Johannes came running up, unwashed +and only half awake; he had just managed to put on +his cap and tie a handkerchief round his neck. "I think +I'll go with you," he said with a yawn.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter thought for a minute—it came as a +surprise to him. "Very well, just as you like," said +he at last, making room. He had reckoned on his +brother beginning the ditching today; there was so little +water in the meadow now.</p> + +<p>"Do me good to get out a bit!" said Johannes as he +clambered into the cart.</p> + +<p>Well—yes—but he had only just come in. "Don't +you want an overcoat?" asked Lars Peter. "There's +an old one of mine you can have."</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind—I can turn up my collar."</p> + +<p>The sun was just rising; there was a white haze on +the shores of the lake, hanging like a veil over the +rushes. In the green fields dewdrops were caught by +millions in the spiders' webs, sparkling like diamonds in +the first rays of sunshine. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lars Peter saw it all, and perhaps it was this which +turned his mind; at least, today, he thought the Crow's +Nest was a good and pretty little place; it would be a +sin to leave it. He had found out all he wanted to +know about his relations and home and what had +happened to every one in the past years and his longing +for home had vanished; now he would prefer to stay +where he was. "Just you be thankful that you're +away from it all!" Johannes had said. And he was +right—it wasn't worth while moving to go back to the +quarreling and jealousies of relations. As a matter +of fact there was no inducement to leave: no sense in +chasing your luck like a fool, better try to keep what +there was.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter could not understand what had happened +to him—everything looked so different today. It was +as if his eyes had been rubbed with some wonderful ointment; +even the meager lands of the Crow's Nest looked +beautiful and promising. A new day had dawned for +him and his home.</p> + +<p>"'Tis a glorious morning," said he, turning towards +Johannes.</p> + +<p>Johannes did not answer. He had drawn his cap +down over his eyes and gone to sleep. He looked somewhat +dejected and his mouth hung loosely as if he had +been drinking. It was extraordinary how he resembled +his mother! Lars Peter promised himself that he +would take good care of him.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="II_CHAPTER_VII" id="II_CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a><br /> +The Sausage-maker</span></h2> + + +<p>Nothing was done to the land round the Crow's +Nest this time; it was a fateful moment when +Johannes, instead of taking his spade and beginning +the ditching, felt inclined to go with his brother carting +herrings. On one of the farms where they went +to trade, a still-born calf lay outside the barn; Johannes +caught sight of it at once. With one jump he was out +of the cart and beside it.</p> + +<p>"What do you reckon to do with it?" asked he, +turning it over with his foot.</p> + +<p>"Bury it, of course," answered the farm-lad.</p> + +<p>"Don't folks sell dead animals in these parts?" +asked Johannes when they were in the cart again.</p> + +<p>"Why, who could they sell them to?" answered +Lars Peter.</p> + +<p>"The Lord preserve me, you're far behind the times. +D'you know what, I've a good mind to settle down here +as a cattle-dealer."</p> + +<p>"And buy up all the still-born calves?" Lars Peter +laughed.</p> + +<p>"Not just that. But it's not a bad idea, all the same; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +the old butcher at home often made ten to fifteen crowns +out of a calf like that."</p> + +<p>"I thought we were going to start in earnest at +home," said Lars Peter.</p> + +<p>"We'll do that too, but we shall want money! Your +trade took up all your time, so everything was left to +look after itself, but cattle-dealing's another thing. A +hundred crowns a day's easily earned, if you're lucky. +Let me drive round once a week, and I'll promise it'll +give us enough to live on. And then we've the rest of +the week to work on the land."</p> + +<p>"Sounds all right," said Lars Peter hesitatingly. +"There's trader's blood in you too, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"You may be sure of that, I've often earned hundreds +of crowns for my master at home in Knarreby."</p> + +<p>"But how'd you begin?" said Peter. "I've got +fifty crowns at the most, and that's not much to buy +cattle with. It's put by for rent and taxes, and really +oughtn't to be touched."</p> + +<p>"Let me have it, and I'll see to the rest," said +Johannes confidently.</p> + +<p>The very next day he set off in the cart, with the +whole of Lars Peter's savings in his pocket. He was +away for two days, which was not reassuring in itself. +Perhaps he had got into bad company, and had the +money stolen from him—or frittered it away in poor +trade. The waiting began to seem endless to Lars +Peter. Then at last Johannes returned, with a full +load and singing at the top of his voice. To the back +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +of the cart was tied an old half-dead horse, so far gone +it could hardly move.</p> + +<p>"Well, you seem to have bought something young!" +shouted Lars Peter scoffingly. "What've you got +under the sacks and hay?"</p> + +<p>Johannes drove the cart into the porch, closed the +gates, and began to unload. A dead calf, a half-rotten +pig and another calf just alive. He had bought them +on the neighboring farms, and had still some money +left.</p> + +<p>"Ay, that's all very well, but what are you going to +do with it all?" broke out Lars Peter amazed.</p> + +<p>"You'll see that soon enough," answered Johannes, +running in and out.</p> + +<p>There was dash and energy in him, he sang and +whistled, as he bustled about. The big porch was +cleared, and a tree-stump put in as a block; he lit a +wisp of hay to see if there was a draught underneath +the boiler. The children stood open-mouthed gazing +at him, and Lars Peter shook his head, but did not +interfere.</p> + +<p>He cut up the dead calf, skinned it, and nailed the +skin up in the porch to dry. Then it was the sick calf's +turn, with one blow it was killed, and its skin hung up +beside the other.</p> + +<p>Ditte and Kristian were set to clean the guts, which +they did very unwillingly.</p> + +<p>"Good Lord, have you never touched guts before?" +said Johannes. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A-a-y. But not of animals that had died," answered +Ditte.</p> + +<p>"Ho, indeed, so you clean the guts while they're +alive, eh? I'd like to see that!"</p> + +<p>They had no answer ready, and went on with their +work—while Johannes drew in the half-dead horse, and +went for the ax. As he ran across the yard, he threw +the ax up into the air and caught it again by the handle; +he was in high spirits.</p> + +<p>"Takes after the rest of the family!" thought Lars +Peter, who kept in the barn, and busied himself there. +He did not like all this, although it was the trade his +race had practised for many years, and which now +took possession of the Crow's Nest; it reminded +him strongly of his childhood. "Folk may well +think us the scum of the earth now," thought he +moodily.</p> + +<p>Johannes came whistling into the barn for an old +sack.</p> + +<p>"Don't look so grumpy, old man," said he as he +passed. Lars Peter had not time to answer before he +was out again. He put the sack over the horse's head, +measured the distance, and swung the ax backwards; +a strange long-drawn crash sounded from behind the +sack, and the horse sank to the ground with its skull +cracked. The children looked on, petrified.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to give me a hand now, to lift it," +shouted Johannes gaily. Lars Peter came lingeringly +across the yard, and gave a helping hand. Shortly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> +afterwards the horse hung from a beam, with its head +downwards, the body was cut up and the skin folded +back like a cape.</p> + +<p>Uncle Johannes' movements became more and more +mysterious. They understood his care with the skins, +these could be sold; but what did he want with the +guts and all the flesh he cut up? That evening he lit +the fire underneath the boiler, and he worked the whole +night, filling the place with a disgusting smell of bones, +meat and guts being cooked.</p> + +<p>"He must be making soap," thought Lars Peter, "or +cart grease."</p> + +<p>The more he thought of it the less he liked the whole +proceeding, and wished that he had let his brother go +as he had come. But he could do nothing now, but +let him go on.</p> + +<p>Johannes asked no one to help him; he kept the +door of the outhouse carefully closed and did his +work with great secrecy. He was cooking the whole +night, and the next morning at breakfast he ordered the +children not to say a word of what he had been doing. +During the morning he disappeared and returned with +a mincing-machine, he took the block too into the outhouse. +He came to his meals covered with blood, fat +and scraps of meat. He looked dreadful and smelled +even worse. But he certainly worked hard; he did not +even allow himself time to sleep.</p> + +<p>Late in the afternoon he opened the door of the +outhouse wide: the work was done. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Here you are, come and look!" he shouted. From +a stick under the ceiling hung a long row of sausages, +beautiful to look at, bright and freshly colored; no-one +would guess what they were made of. On the big +washing-board lay meat, cut into neat joints and bright +red in color—this was the best part of the horse. And +there was a big pail of fat, which had not quite stiffened. +"That's grease," said Johannes, stirring it, "but as a +matter of fact it's quite nice for dripping. Looks quite +tasty, eh?"</p> + +<p>"It shan't come into our kitchen," said Ditte, making +a face at the things.</p> + +<p>"You needn't be afraid, my girl; sausage-makers +never eat their own meat," answered Johannes.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do with it now?" asked +Lars Peter, evidently knowing what the answer would +be.</p> + +<p>"Sell it, of course!" Johannes showed his white +teeth, as he took a sausage. "Just feel how firm and +round it is."</p> + +<p>"If you think you can sell them here, you're very +much mistaken. You don't know the folks in these +parts."</p> + +<p>"Here? of course not! Drive over to the other side +of the lake where no-one knows me, or what they're +made of. We often used to make these at my old +place. All the bad stuff we bought in one county, we +sold in another. No-one ever found us out. Simple +enough, isn't it?" +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll have nothing to do with it," said Lars Peter +determinedly.</p> + +<p>"Don't want you to—you're not the sort for this +work. I'm off <a class="corr" name="TC_7" id="TC_7" title="tomorrw">tomorrow</a>, but you must get me another +horse. If I have to drive with that rusty old threshing-machine +in there, I shan't be back for a whole week. +Never saw such a beast. If he was mine I'd make him +into sausages."</p> + +<p>"That you shall never do," answered Lars Peter +offendedly. "The horse is good enough, though maybe +he's not to your liking."</p> + +<p>The fact was they did not suit each other—Johannes +and Klavs; they were like fire and water. Johannes +preferred to fly along the highroad; but soon found out +it wouldn't do. Then he expected that the nag—since +it could no longer gallop and was so slow to set going—should +keep moving when he jumped off. As a butcher +he was accustomed to jump off the cart, run into a +house with a piece of meat, catch up with the cart +and jump on again—without stopping the horse. But +Klavs did not feel inclined for these new tricks. The +result was they clashed. Johannes made up his mind to +train the horse, and kept striking it with the thick end of +the whip. Klavs stopped in amazement. Twice he kicked +up his hind legs—warningly, then turned round, broke +the shafts, and tried to get up into the cart. He showed +his long teeth in a grin, which might mean: Just let me +get you under my hoofs, you black rascal! This happened +on the highroad the day he had gone out to buy +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> +cattle. Lars Peter and the children knew that the +two were enemies. When Johannes entered the barn, +Klavs at once laid back his ears and was prepared to +both bite and fight. There was no mistaking the signs.</p> + +<p>Next morning, before Johannes started out, Kristian +was sent over with the nag to a neighbor who lived +north of the road, and got their horse in exchange.</p> + +<p>"It belonged to a butcher for many years, so you +ought to get on with it," said Lars Peter as they +harnessed it.</p> + +<p>It was long and thin, just the sort for Johannes. As +soon as he was in the cart, the horse knew what kind of +man held the reins. It set off with a jerk, and passed +the corner of the house like a flash of lightning. The +next minute they were up on the highroad, rushing +along in a whirl of dust. Johannes bumped up and +down on the seat, shouted and flourished his whip, and +held the reins over his head. They seemed possessed +by the devil.</p> + +<p>"He shan't touch Klavs again," mumbled Lars Peter +as he went in.</p> + +<p>The next day Johannes came back with notes in his +pocketbook and a mare running behind the cart. It was +the same kind of horse as the one he drove, only a little +more stiff in its movements; he had bought it for next to +nothing—to be killed.</p> + +<p>"But it would be a sin to kill it; it's not too far gone +to enjoy life yet, eh, old lady?" said he, slapping its +back. The mare whinnied and threw up its hind legs. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Tis nigh on thirty," said Lars Peter, peering into +its mouth.</p> + +<p>"It may not be up to much, but the will's there +right enough, just look at it!" He cracked his whip +and the old steed threw its head back and started off. +It didn't get very far, however, its movements were +jerky and painful.</p> + +<p>"Quite a high flier," said Lars Peter laughingly, "it +looks as if a breath of air would blow it up to heaven. +But are you sure it's not against the law to use it, when +it's sold to be killed?"</p> + +<p>Johannes nodded. "They won't know it when I've +finished with it," said he.</p> + +<p>As soon as he had had a meal, and got into his working +clothes, he started to remodel the horse. He +clipped its mane and tail, and cropped the hair round +its hoofs.</p> + +<p>"It only wants a little brown coloring to dye the +gray hair—and a couple of bottles of arsenic, and +then you'll see how smart and young she'll be. The +devil himself wouldn't know her again."</p> + +<p>"Did you learn these tricks from your master?" +asked Lars Peter.</p> + +<p>"No, from the old man. Never seen him at it?"</p> + +<p>Lars Peter could not remember. "It must have +been after my time," said he, turning away.</p> + +<p>"'Tis a good old family trick," said Johannes.</p> + +<hr class="w45" /> + +<p>That there was money to be made from the new +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +business was soon evident, and Lars Peter got over his +indignation. He let Johannes drive round buying and +selling, while he himself remained at home, making +sausages, soap and grease from the refuse. He had +been an apt pupil, it was the old family trade.</p> + +<p>The air round the Crow's Nest stank that summer. +People held their noses and whipped up their horses as +they passed by. Johannes brought home money in +plenty and they lacked for nothing. But neither Lars +Peter nor the children were happy. They felt that the +Crow's Nest was talked about more even than before. +And the worst of it was, they no longer felt this to be +an injustice. People had every right to look down on +them now; there was not the consolation that their +honor was unassailable.</p> + +<p>Johannes did not care. He was out on the road most +of the time. He made a lot of money, and was proud +of it too. He often bought cattle and sold them again. +He was dissipated, so it was said—played cards with +fellows of his own kidney, and went to dances. Sometimes +after a brawl, he would come home with a wounded +head and a black eye. Apparently he spent a +great deal of money; no-one could say how much he +made. That was his business, but he behaved as if he +alone kept things going, and was easily put out. Lars +Peter never interfered, he liked peace in the house.</p> + +<p>One day, however, they quarreled in earnest. +Johannes had always had his eye on the nag, and one +day when Lars Peter was away, he dragged it out of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +the stall and tied it up, he was going to teach it to +behave, he said to the children. With difficulty he +harnessed it to the cart, it lashed its tail and showed its +teeth, and when Johannes wanted it to set off, refused +to stir, however much it was lashed. At last, beside +himself with temper, he jumped off the cart, seized a +shaft from the harrow, and began hitting at its legs +with all <a class="corr" name="TC_8" id="TC_8" title="its">his</a> might. The children screamed. The horse +was trembling, bathed in perspiration, its flanks heaving +violently. Each time he jumped up to it, the nag +kicked up its hind legs, and at last giving up the fight, +Johannes threw away his weapon and went into his +room.</p> + +<p>Ditte had tried to throw herself between them, but +had been brushed aside; now she went up to the horse. +She unharnessed it, gave it water to drink, and put a wet +sack over its wounds, while the little ones stood round +crying and offering it bread. Shortly afterwards +Johannes came out; he had changed his clothes. +Quickly, without a look at any one, he harnessed and +drove off. The little ones came out from their hiding-place +and gazed after him.</p> + +<p>"Is he going away now?" asked sister Else.</p> + +<p>"I only wish he would, or the horse bolt, so he could +never find his way back again, nasty brute," said Kristian. +None of them liked him any longer.</p> + +<p>A man came along the footpath down by the marsh, +it was their father. The children ran to meet him, and +all started to tell what had happened. Lars Peter +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> +stared at them for a moment, as if he could not take +in what they had said, then set off at a run; Ditte +followed him into the stable. There stood Klavs, looking +very miserable; the poor beast still trembled when +they spoke to it; its body was badly cut. Lars Peter's +face was gray.</p> + +<p>"He may thank the Lord that he's not here now!" +he said to Ditte. He examined the horse's limbs to +make sure no bones were broken; the nag carefully +lifted one leg, then the other, and moaned.</p> + +<p>"Blood-hound," said Lars Peter, softly stroking its +legs, "treating poor old Klavs like that."</p> + +<p>Klavs whinnied and scraped the stones with his +hoofs. He took advantage of his master's sympathy +and begged for an extra supply of corn.</p> + +<p>"You should give him a good beating," said Kristian +seriously.</p> + +<p>"I've a mind to turn him out altogether," answered +the father darkly. "'Twould be best for all of us."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and d'you know, Father? Can you guess why +the Johansens haven't been to see us this summer? +They're afraid of what we'll give them to eat; they say +we make food from dead animals."</p> + +<p>"Where did you hear that, Ditte?" Lars Peter +looked at her in blank despair.</p> + +<p>"The children shouted it after me today. They +asked if I wouldn't like a dead cat to make sausages."</p> + +<p>"Ay, I thought as much," he laughed miserably. +"Well, we can do without them,—what the devil do I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> +want with them!" he shouted so loudly that little Povl +began to cry.</p> + +<p>"Hush now, I didn't mean to frighten you," Lars +Peter took him in his arms. "But it's enough to make +a man lose his temper."</p> + +<p>Two days afterwards, Johannes returned home, looking +as dirty and rakish as he possibly could. Lars Peter +had to help him out of the cart, he could hardly stand +on his legs. But he was not at loss for words. Lars +Peter was silent at his insolence and dragged him into +the barn, where he at once fell asleep. There he lay +like a dead beast, deathly white, with a lock of black +hair falling over his brow, and plastered on his forehead—he +looked a wreck. The children crept over to +the barn-door and peered at him through the half dark; +when they caught sight of him they rushed out with +terror into the fields. It was too horrible.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter went to and fro, cutting hay for the +horses. As he passed his brother, he stopped, and +looked at him thoughtfully. That was how a man +should look to keep up with other people: smooth and +polished outside, and cold and heartless inside. No-one +looked down on him just because he had impudence. +Women admired him, and made some excuse to pass on +the highroad in the evenings, and as for the men—his +dissipation and his fights over girls probably overwhelmed +them.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter put his hand into his brother's pocket and +took out the pocketbook—it was empty! He had taken +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> +150 crowns with him from their joint savings—to be +used for buying cattle, it was all the money there was +in the house; and now he had squandered it all.</p> + +<p>His hands began to tremble. He leant over his +brother, as if to seize him; but straightened himself and +left the barn. He hung about for two or three hours, to +give his brother time to sleep off the drink, then went in +again. This time he would settle up. He shook his +brother and wakened him.</p> + +<p>"Where's the money to buy the calf?" asked he.</p> + +<p>"What's that to you?" Johannes threw himself on +his other side.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter dragged him to his feet. "I want to +speak to you," said he.</p> + +<p>"Oh, go to hell," mumbled Johannes. He did not +open his eyes, and tumbled back into the hay.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter brought a pail of ice-cold water from the +well.</p> + +<p>"I'll wake you, whether you like it or not!" said he, +throwing the pailful of water over his head.</p> + +<p>Like a cat Johannes sprang to his feet, and drew his +knife. He turned round, startled by the rude awakening; +caught sight of his brother and rushed at him. +Lars Peter felt a stab in his cheek, the blade of the +knife struck against his teeth. With one blow he +knocked Johannes down, threw himself on him, +wrestling for the knife. Johannes was like a cat, strong +and quick in his movements; he twisted and turned, +used his teeth, and tried to find an opening to stab +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +again. He was foaming at the mouth. Lars Peter +warded off the attacks with his hands, which were +bleeding already from several stabs. At last he got his +knee on his brother's chest.</p> + +<p>Johannes lay gasping for breath. "Let me go!" +he hissed.</p> + +<p>"Ay, if you'll behave properly," said Lars Peter, +relaxing his grip a little. "You're my youngest +brother, and I'm loth to harm you; but I'll not be +knocked down like a pig by you."</p> + +<p>With a violent effort Johannes tried to throw off his +brother. He got one arm free, and threw himself to +one side, reaching for the knife, which lay a good +arm's length away.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's your game!" said Lars Peter, forcing +him down on to the floor of the barn with all his +weight, "I'd better tie you up. Bring a rope, children!"</p> + +<p>The three stood watching outside the barn-door; one +behind the other. "Come on!" shouted the father. +Then Kristian rushed in for Ditte, and she brought a +rope. Without hesitation she went up to the two struggling +men, and gave it to her father. "Shall I help +you?" said she.</p> + +<p>"No need for that, my girl," said Lars Peter, and +laughed. "Just hold the rope, while I turn him over."</p> + +<p>He bound his brother's hands firmly behind his back, +then set him on his feet and brushed him. "You look +like a pig," said he, "you must have been rolling on the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +muddy road. Go indoors quietly or you'll be sorry for +it. No fault of yours that you're not a murderer +today."</p> + +<p>Johannes was led in, and set down in the rush-bottomed +armchair beside the fire. The children were sent +out of doors, and Ditte and Kristian ordered to harness +Uncle Johannes' horse.</p> + +<p>"Now we're alone, I'll tell you that you've behaved +like a scoundrel," said Lars Peter slowly. "Here have +I been longing for many a year to see some of my own +kin, and when you came it was like a message from +home. I'd give much never to have had it now. All of +us saw something good in you; we didn't expect much, +so there wasn't much for you to live up to. But what +have you done? Dragged us into a heap of filth and +villainy and wickedness. We've done with you here—make +no mistake about that. You can take the one +horse and cart and whatever else you can call your own, +and off you go! There's no money to be got; you've +wasted more than you've earned."</p> + +<p>Johannes made no answer, and avoided his brother's +eyes.</p> + +<p>The cart was driven up outside. Lars Peter led him +out, and lifted him like a child on to the seat. He +loosened the rope with his cut and bleeding hands; the +blood from the wound on his cheek ran down on to his +chin and clothes. "Get off with you," said he threateningly, +wiping the blood from his chin, "and be smart +about it." +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p> + +<p>Johannes sat for a moment swaying in the cart, as if +half asleep. Suddenly he pulled himself together, and +with a shout of laughter gathered up the reins and +quickly set off round the corner of the house up to the +highroad.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter stood gazing after the horse and cart, +then went in and washed off the blood. Ditte bathed +his wounds in cold water and put on sticking-plaster.</p> + +<p>For the next few days they were busy getting rid of +all traces of that summer's doings. Lars Peter dug +down the remainder of the refuse, threw the block +away, and cleaned up. When some farmer or other +at night knocked on the window-panes with his whip, +shouting: "Lars Peter, I've got a dead animal for +you!" he made no answer. No more sausage-making, +no more trading in carrion for him!</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="II_CHAPTER_VIII" id="II_CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a><br /> +The Last Of The Crow's Nest</span></h2> + + +<p>Ditte went about singing at her work; she had +no-one to help her, and ran about to and fro. +One eye was bound up, and each time she crossed +the kitchen she lifted the bandage and bathed +her eye with something brown in a cup. The eye was +bloodshot, and hurt, and showed the colors of the +rainbow, but all the same she was happy. Indeed, it +was the sore eye which put her in such a happy mood. +They were going away from the Crow's Nest, right +away and forever, and it was all on account of her +eye.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter came home; he had been out for a walk. +He hung up his stick behind the kitchen door. "Well, +how's the eye getting on?" he asked, as he began to +take off his boots.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's much better now. And what did the schoolmaster +say?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, what did he say? He thought it good and +right that you should stand up for your little brothers +and sister. But he did not care to be mixed up in the +affair, and after all 'tis not to be wondered at." +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why not? He knows how it all happened—and +he's so truthful!"</p> + +<p>"Hm—well—truthful! When a well-to-do farmer's +son's concerned, then——. He's all right, but he's got +his living to make. He's afraid of losing his post, if +he gets up against the farmers, and they hang together +like peas in a pod. He advised me to let it drop—especially +as we're leaving the place. Nothing would +come of it but trouble and rows again. And maybe it's +likely enough. They'd get their own back at the auction—agree +not to bid the things up, or stay away altogether."</p> + +<p>"Then you didn't go to the police about it?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, but I did. But he thought too there wasn't +much to be made of the case. Oh, and the schoolmaster +said you needn't go to school for the rest of +the time—he'd see it was all right. He's a kind man, +even if he is afraid of his skin."</p> + +<p>Ditte was not satisfied. It would have done the big +boy good to be well punished. He had been the first +to attack Kristian, and had afterwards kicked her in her +eye with his wooden shoe, because she had stood up +for her brother. And she had been certain in her +childish mind that this time they would get compensation—for +the law made no difference whoever the +people were.</p> + +<p>"If I'd been a rich farmer's daughter, and he had +come from the Crow's Nest, what then?" she asked +hoarsely. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, he'd have got a good thrashing—if not +worse!" said the father. "That's the way we poor +people are treated, and can only be thankful that we +don't get fined into the bargain."</p> + +<p>"If you meet the boy, won't you give him a good +thrashing?" she asked shortly afterwards.</p> + +<p>"I'd rather give it to his father—but it's better to +keep out of it. We're of no account, you see!"</p> + +<p>Kristian came in through the kitchen door. "When +I'm bigger, then I'll creep back here at night and set +fire to his farm," said he, with flashing eyes.</p> + +<p>"What's that you say, boy—d'you want to send +us all to jail?" shouted Lars Peter, aghast.</p> + +<p>"'Twould do them good," said Ditte, setting to work +again. She was very dissatisfied with the result of her +father's visit.</p> + +<p>"When're you going to arrange about the auction?" +she said stiffly.</p> + +<p>"They'll see to that," answered Lars Peter quickly, +"I've seen the clerk about it. He was very kind." +Lars Peter was grateful for this, he did not care to go +to the magistrate.</p> + +<p>"Ay, he's glad to get rid of us," said Ditte harshly. +"That's what they all are. At school they make a ring +and sing about a crow and an owl and all ugly birds! +and the crow and his young steal the farmer's chickens, +but then the farmer takes a long stick and pulls down +the Crow's Nest. Do you think I don't know what they +mean?" +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lars Peter was silent, and went back to his work. +He too felt miserable now.</p> + +<p>But in the evening, as they sat round the lamp, talking +of the future, all unpleasantness was forgotten. +Lars Peter had been looking round for a place to settle +down in, and had fixed on the fishing-hamlet where he +used to buy fish in the old days. The people seemed to +like him, and had often asked him why he didn't settle +down there. "And there's a jolly fellow there, the +inn-keeper, he can do anything. He's rough till you +get to know him, but he's got a kind heart. He's +promised to find me a couple of rooms, until we can +build a place for ourselves—and help me to a share in +a boat. What we get from the auction ought to be +enough to build a house."</p> + +<p>"Is that the man you told us about, who's like a +dwarf?" asked Ditte with interest.</p> + +<p>"Ay, he's like a giant and a dwarf mixed together—so +to say—he might well have had the one for a +father and the other for a mother. He's hunch-backed +in front and behind, and his face as black as a crow's, +but he can't help that, and otherwise he's all right. +He's a finger in everything down there."</p> + +<p>Ditte shuddered. "Sounds like a goblin!" said she.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter was going in for fishing now. He had +had a great deal to do in this line during his life, but +he himself had never gone out; his fingers itched to be +at it. Ditte too liked the thought of it. Then she +would be near the sea again, which she dimly remembered +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +from her childhood with Granny. And they +would have done with everything here, and perhaps get +rid of the rag and bone name, and shake off the curse.</p> + +<p>Then they had to decide what to take with them. +Now that it came to the point, it was dreadful to part +with one's possessions. When they had gone through +things together, and written on Kristian's slate what +was to be sold, there wasn't much put down. They +would like to take it all with them.</p> + +<p>"We must go through it again—and have no nonsense," +said Lars Peter. "We can't take the whole +bag of tricks with us. Money'll be needed too—and +not so little either."</p> + +<p>So they went over the things again one by one. Klavs +was out of the question. It would be a shame to send +him to strangers in his old age; they could feed him +on the downs. "It's useful to have," thought Lars +Peter; "it gives a man a better standing. And we +can make a little money by him too." This was only +said by way of comfort. Deep down in his heart, he +was very anxious about the nag. But no-one could face +the thought of being parted from it.</p> + +<p>The cow, on the other hand, there was quite a battle +about. Lars Peter wished to take it too. "It's served +us faithfully all this while," said he, "and given the +little ones their food and health. And it's good to +have plenty of milk in the house." But here Ditte was +sensible. If they took the cow, they would have to take +a field as well. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lars Peter laughed: Ay, that was not a bad idea, if +only they could take a lump of meadow on the cart—and +piece of the marsh. Down there, there was nothing +but sand. Well, he would give up the cow. "But the +pig we'll keep—and the hens!"</p> + +<p>Ditte agreed that hens were useful to keep, and the +pig could live on anything.</p> + +<p>The day before the auction they were busily engaged +in putting all in order and writing numbers on the +things in chalk. The little ones helped too, and were +full of excitement.</p> + +<p>"But they're not all matched," said Ditte, pointing +at the different lots Lars Peter had put up +together.</p> + +<p>"That doesn't matter," answered Lars Peter—"folks +see there's a boot in one lot, bid it up and then +buy the whole lot. Well, then they see the other boot +in another lot—and bid that up as well. It's always like +that at auctions; folks get far more than they have use +for—and most of it doesn't match."</p> + +<p>Ditte laughed: "Ay, you ought to know all about +it!" Her father himself had the bad habit of going to +auctions and bringing home a great deal of useless +rubbish. It could be bought on credit, which was a +temptation.</p> + +<p>How things collected as years went by, in attics and +outhouses! It was a relief to get it all cleared away. +But it was difficult to keep it together. The children +had a use for it all—as soon as they saw their opportunity, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> +they would run off with something or other—just +like rats.</p> + +<hr class="w45" /> + +<p>The day of the auction arrived—a mild, gray, damp +October day. The soft air hung like a veil over everything. +The landscape, with its scattered houses and +trees, lay resting in the all-embracing wet.</p> + +<p>At the Crow's Nest they had been early astir. Ditte +and Lars Peter had been running busily about from +the house to the barn and back again. Now they had +finished, and everything was in readiness. The children +were washed and dressed, and went round full of expectation, +with well-combed heads and faces red from +scrubbing and soap. Ditte did not do things by halves, +and when she washed their ears, and made their eyes +smart with the soap, weeping was unavoidable. But +now the disagreeable task was over, and there would +be no more of it for another week; childish tears dry +quickly, and their little faces beamingly met the day.</p> + +<p>Little Povl was last ready. Ditte could hardly keep +him on the chair, as she put the finishing touches—he +was anxious to be out. "Well, what d'you say to +sister?" she asked, when he was done, offering her +mouth.</p> + +<p>"Hobble!" said he, looking roguishly at her; he was +in high spirits. Kristian and Else laughed.</p> + +<p>"No, now answer properly," said Ditte seriously; +she did not allow fun when correcting them. "Say, +'thank you, dear'—well?" +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Thank you, dear lump!" said the youth, laughing +immoderately.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're mad today," said Ditte, lifting him +down. He ran out into the yard to the father, and continued +his nonsense.</p> + +<p>"What's that he says?" shouted Lars Peter from +outside.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's only something he's made up himself—he +often does that. He seems to think it's something +naughty."</p> + +<p>"You, lumpy, lump!" said the child, taking hold +of his father's leg.</p> + +<p>"Mind what you're doing, you little monkey, or I'll +come after you!" said Lars Peter with a terrible roar.</p> + +<p>The boy laughed and hid behind the well.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter caught him and put him on one shoulder, +and his sister on the other. "We'll go in the fields," +said he.</p> + +<p>Ditte and Kristian went with him, it would be their +last walk there; involuntarily they each took hold of +his coat. Thus they went down the pathway to the +clay-pit, past the marsh and up on the other side. It +was strange how different everything looked now they +were going to lose it. The marsh and the clay-pit could +have told their own tale about the children's play and +Lars Peter's plans. The brambles in the hedges, the +large stone which marked the boundary, the stone behind +which they used to hide—all spoke to them in their +own way today. The winter seed was in the earth, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +everything ready for the new occupier, whoever he +might be. Lars Peter did not wish his successor to +have anything to complain of. No-one should say that +he had neglected his land, because he was not going to +reap the harvest.</p> + +<p>"Ay, our time's up here," said he, when they were +back in the house again. "Lord knows what the new +place'll be like!" There was a catch in his voice as he +spoke.</p> + +<p>A small crowd began to collect on the highroad. +They stood in groups and did not go down to the +Crow's Nest, until the auctioneer and his clerk arrived. +Ditte was on the point of screaming when she saw who +the two men were; they were the same who had come +to fetch her mother. But now they came on quite a +different errand, and spoke kindly.</p> + +<p>Behind their conveyance came group after group +of people, quite a procession. It looked as if no-one +wanted to be the first to put foot on the rag and bone +man's ground. Where the officials went, they too could +follow, but the auctioneer and his clerk were the only +ones to shake hands with Lars Peter; the others hung +aimlessly about, and put their heads together, keeping +up a whispering conversation.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter summed up the buyers. There were one +or two farmers among them, mean old men, who had +come in the hope of getting a bargain. Otherwise they +were nearly all poor people from round about, cottagers +and laborers who were tempted by the chance of buying +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +on credit. They took no notice of him, but rubbed up +against the farmers—and made up to the clerk; they +did not dare to approach the auctioneer.</p> + +<p>"Ay, they behave as if I were dirt," thought Lars +Peter. And what were they after all? Most of them +did not even own enough ground to grow a carrot in. +A good thing he owed them nothing! Even the cottagers +from the marsh, whom he had often helped in +their poverty, followed the others' example and looked +down on him today. There was no chance now of +getting anything more out of him.</p> + +<p>After all, it was comical to go round watching people +fight over one's goods and chattels. They were not +too grand to take the rag and bone man's leavings—if +only they could get it on credit and make a good +bargain.</p> + +<p>The auctioneer knew most of them by name, and +encouraged them to bid. "Now, Peter Jensen Hegnet, +make a good bid. You haven't bought anything from +me for a whole year!" said he suddenly to one of the +cottagers. Or, "Here's something to take home to +your wife, Jens Petersen!" Each time he named them, +the man he singled out would laugh self-consciously and +make a bid. They felt proud at being known by the +auctioneer.</p> + +<p>"Here's a comb, make a bid for it!" shouted the +auctioneer, when the farm implements came to be sold. +A wave of laughter went through the crowd; it was an +old harrow which was put up. The winnowing-machine +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +he called a coffee-grinder. He had something funny +to say about everything. At times the jokes were such +that the laughter turned on Lars Peter, and this was +quickly followed up. But Lars Peter shook himself, +and took it as it came. It was the auctioneer's profession +to say funny things—it all helped on the sale!</p> + +<p>The poor silly day laborer, Johansen, was there too. +He stood behind the others, stretching his neck to see +what was going on—in ragged working clothes and +muddy wooden shoes. Each time the auctioneer made +a remark, he laughed louder than the rest, to show that +he joined in the joke. Lars Peter looked at him +angrily. In his house there was seldom food, except +what others were foolish enough to give him—his +earnings went in drink. And there he stood, stuck-up +idiot that he was! And bless us, if he didn't make a +bid too—for Lars Peter's old boots. No-one bid +against him, so they were knocked down to him for a +crown. "You'll pay at once, of course," said the auctioneer. +This time the laugh was against the buyer; +all knew he had no money.</p> + +<p>"I'll pay it for him," said Lars Peter, putting the +crown on the table. Johansen glared at him for a +few minutes; then sat down and began putting on the +boots. He had not had leather footwear for years +and years.</p> + +<p>Indoors, a table was set out with two large dishes of +sandwiches and a bottle of brandy, with three glasses +round. At one end of the table was a coffee-pot. Ditte +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> +kept in the kitchen; her cheeks were red with excitement +in case her preparations should not be appreciated. +She had everything ready to cut more sandwiches as +soon as the others gave out; every other minute she +peeped through the door to see what was going on, her +heart in her mouth. Every now and then a stranger +strolled into the room, looking round with curiosity, +but passed out without eating anything. A man entered—he +was not from the neighborhood, and Ditte did not +know him. He stepped over the bench, took a sandwich, +and poured himself out a glass of brandy. Ditte +could see by his jaws that he was enjoying himself. +Then in came a farmer's wife, drew him away by his +arm, whispering something to him. He got up, spat +the food out into his hand, and followed her out of +doors.</p> + +<p>When Lars Peter came into the kitchen, Ditte lay +over the table, crying. He lifted her up. "What's the +matter now?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's nothing," sniffed Ditte, struggling to get +away. Perhaps she wanted to spare him, or perhaps +to hide her shame even from him. Only after much +persuasion did he get out of her that it was the food. +"They won't touch it!" she sobbed.</p> + +<p>He had noticed it himself.</p> + +<p>"Maybe they're not hungry yet," said he, to comfort her. +"And they haven't time either."</p> + +<p>"They think it's bad!" she broke out, "made from +dog's meat or something like that." +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't talk nonsense!" Lars Peter laughed +strangely. "It's not dinner-time either."</p> + +<p>"I heard a woman telling her husband myself—not +to touch it," she said.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter was silent for a few minutes. "Now, +don't worry over it," said he, stroking her hair. "Tomorrow +we're leaving, and then we shan't care a fig for +them. There's a new life ahead of us. Well, I +must go back to the auction; now, be a sensible +girl."</p> + +<p>Lars Peter went over to the barn, where the auction +was now being held. At twelve o'clock the auctioneer +stopped. "Now we'll have a rest, good people, and +get something inside us!" he cried. The people +laughed. Lars Peter went up to the auctioneer. Every +one knew what he wanted; they pushed nearer to see +the rag and bone man humiliated. He lifted his dented +old hat, and rubbed his tousled head. "I only wanted +to say"—his big voice rang to the furthermost corners—"that +if the auctioneer and his clerk would take us +as we are, there's food and beer indoors—you are welcome +to a cup of coffee too." People nudged one another—who +ever heard such impudence—the rag and +bone man to invite an auctioneer to his table, and his +wife a murderess into the bargain! They looked on +breathlessly; one farmer was even bold enough to warn +him with a wink.</p> + +<p>The auctioneer thanked him hesitatingly. "We've +brought something with us, you and your clever little +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> +girl have quite enough to do," said he in a friendly +manner. Then, noticing Lars Peter's crestfallen appearance, +and the triumphant faces of those around, he +understood that something was going on in which he +was expected to take part. He had been here before—on +an unpleasant errand—and would gladly make matters +easier for these honest folk who bore their misfortune +so patiently.</p> + +<p>"Yes, thanks very much," said he jovially, "strangers' +food always tastes much nicer than one's own! +And a glass of brandy—what do you say, Hansen?" +They followed Lars Peter into the house, and sat down +to table.</p> + +<p>The people looked after them a little taken aback, +then slunk in one by one. It would be fun to see how +such a great man enjoyed the rag and bone man's +food. And once inside, for very shame's sake they had +to sit down at the table. Appetite is infectious, and +the two of them set to with a will. Perhaps people +did not seriously believe all the tales which they themselves +had both listened to and spread. Ditte's sandwiches +and coffee quickly disappeared, and she was sent +for by the auctioneer, who praised her and patted her +cheeks. This friendly act took away much of her bitterness +of mind, and was a gratifying reward for all her +trouble.</p> + +<p>"I've never had a better cup of coffee at any sale," +said the auctioneer.</p> + +<p>When they began again, a stranger had appeared. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> +He nodded to the auctioneer, but ignored everybody +else, and went round looking at the buildings and land. +He was dressed like a steward, with high-laced boots. +But any one could see with half an eye that he was no +countryman. It leaked out by degrees that he was a +tradesman from the town, who wished to buy the +Crow's Nest—probably for the fishing on the lake—and +use it as a summer residence.</p> + +<p>Otherwise, there was little chance of many bids for +the place, but his advent changed the outlook. It +really could be made into a good little property, +once all was put in order. When the Crow's Nest +eventually was put up for sale, there was some competition, +and Lars Peter got a good price for the +place.</p> + +<p>At last the auction was over, but the people waited +about, as if expecting something to happen. A stout +farmer's wife went up to Lars Peter and shook his +hand. "I should like to say good-by to you," said she, +"and wish you better luck in your new home than +you've had here. You've not had much of a time, +have you?"</p> + +<p>"No, and the little good we've had's no thanks to +any one here," said Lars Peter.</p> + +<p>"Folks haven't treated you as they ought to have +done, and I've been no better than the rest, but 'tis our +way. We farmers can't bear the poor. Don't think +too badly of us. Good luck to you!" She said good-by +to all the children with the same wish. Many of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> +the people made off, but one or two followed her example, +and shook hands with them.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter stood looking after them, the children by +his side. "After all, folk are often better than a man +gives them credit for," said he. He was not a little +moved.</p> + +<p>They loaded the cart with their possessions, so as to +make an early start the next morning. It was some +distance to the fishing-hamlet, and it was better to get +off in good time, to settle down a little before night. +Then they went to bed; they were tired out after their +long eventful day; they slept on the hay in the barn, as +the bedclothes were packed.</p> + +<p>The next morning was a wonderful day to waken up +to. They were dressed when they wakened, and had +only to dip their faces in the water-trough in the yard. +Already they felt a sensation of something new and +pleasant. There was only the coffee to be drunk, and +the cow to be taken to the neighbor's, and they were +ready to get into the cart. Klavs was in the shafts, and +on top of the high load they put the pig, the hens and +the three little ones. It was a wonderful beginning to +the new life.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter was the only one who felt sad. He made +an excuse to go over the property again, and stood behind +the barn, gazing over the fields. Here he had +toiled and striven through good and bad; every ditch +was dear to him—he knew every stone in the fields, +every crack in the walls. What would the future bring? +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> +Lars Peter had begun afresh before, but never with +less inclination than now. His thoughts turned to bygone +days.</p> + +<p>The children, on the contrary, thought only of the +future. Ditte had to tell them about the beach, as +she remembered it from her childhood with Granny, +and they promised themselves delightful times in their +new home.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="II_CHAPTER_IX" id="II_CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a><br /> +A Death</span></h2> + + +<p>The winter was cold and long. Lars Peter had +counted on getting a share in a boat, but there +seemed to be no vacancy, and each time he reminded +the inn-keeper of his promise, he was put off +with talk. "It'll come soon enough," said the inn-keeper, +"just give it time."</p> + +<p>Time—it was easy to say. But here he was waiting, +with his savings dwindling away—and what was he +really waiting for? That there might be an accident, +so he could fill the place—it was not a pleasant thought. +It had been arranged that the inn-keeper should help +Lars Peter to get a big boat, and let him manage it; +at least, so Lars Peter had understood before he moved +down to the hamlet. But it had evidently been a great +misunderstanding.</p> + +<p>He went about lending a hand here and there, and +replacing any one who was ill. "Just wait a little +longer," said the inn-keeper. "It'll be all right in the +end! You can get what you want at the store." It +was as if he were keeping Lars Peter back for some +purpose of his own. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> + +<p>At last the spring came, heralded by furious storms +and accidents round about the coast. One morning +Lars Jensen's boat came in, having lost its master; a +wave had swept him overboard.</p> + +<p>"You'd better go to the inn-keeper at once," said +his two partners to Lars Peter.</p> + +<p>"But wouldn't it be more natural to go to Lars +Jensen's widow?" asked Lars Peter. "After all, 'tis +she who owns the share now."</p> + +<p>"We don't want to be mixed up in it," said they cautiously. +"Go to whoever you like. But if you've +money in the house, you should put it into the bank—the +hut might easily catch fire." They looked meaningly +at each other and turned away.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter turned this over in his mind—could that +be the case? He took the two thousand crowns he +had put by from the sale to build with, and went up to +the inn-keeper.</p> + +<p>"Will you take care of some money for me?" he +said in a low voice. "You're the savings bank for us +down here, I've been told."</p> + +<p>The inn-keeper counted the money, and locked it up +in his desk. "You want a receipt, I suppose?" said +he.</p> + +<p>"No-o, it doesn't really matter," Lars Peter said +slowly. He would have liked a written acknowledgment, +but did not like to insist on it. It looked as if he +mistrusted the man.</p> + +<p>The inn-keeper drew down the front of the desk—it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> +sounded to Lars Peter like earth being thrown on a +coffin. "We can call it a deposit on the share in the +boat," said he. "I've been thinking you might take +Lars Jensen's share."</p> + +<p>"Oughtn't I to have arranged it with Lars Jensen's +widow, and not with you?" said Lars Peter. "She +owns the share."</p> + +<p>The inn-keeper turned towards him. "You seem to +know more about other people's affairs in the hamlet +than I do, it appears to me," said he.</p> + +<p>"No, but that's how I understood it to be," mumbled +Lars Peter.</p> + +<p>Once outside, he shrugged his shoulders. Curse it, +a fellow was never himself when with that hunch-backed +dwarf. That he had no neck—and that huge +head! He was supposed to be as strong as a lion, +and there was brain too. He made folk dance to his +piping, and got his own way. There was no getting +the better of <i>him</i>. Just as he thought of something +cutting which would settle him, the inn-keeper's face +would send his thoughts all ways at once. He was not +satisfied with the result of his visit, but was glad to +get out again.</p> + +<p>He went down to the beach, and informed the two +partners of what he had done. They had no objection; +they liked the idea of getting Lars Peter as a +third man: he was big and strong, and a good fellow. +"Now, you'll have to settle with the widow," said +they. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What, that too?" broke out Lars Peter. "Good +Lord! has the share to be paid for twice?"</p> + +<p>"You must see about that yourself," they said; "we +don't want to be mixed up in it!"</p> + +<p>He went to see the widow, who lived in a little hut +in the southern part of the hamlet. She sat beside the +fireplace eating peas from a yellow bowl; the tears ran +down her cheeks, dropping into the food. "There's +no-one to earn money for me now," she sobbed.</p> + +<p>"Ay, and I'm afraid I've put my foot in it," said +Lars Peter, crestfallen. "I've paid the inn-keeper two +thousand crowns for the share of the boat, and now I +hear that it's yours."</p> + +<p>"You couldn't help yourself," said she, and looked +kindly at him.</p> + +<p>"Wasn't it yours then?"</p> + +<p>"My husband took it over from the inn-keeper +about a dozen years ago, and paid for it over and +over again, he said. But it's hard for a poor widow +to say anything, and have to take charity from others. +It's hard to live, Lars Peter! Who'll shelter me now? +and scold me and make it up again?" She began to +cry afresh.</p> + +<p>"We'll look you up as often as we can, and as to +food, we'll get over that too. I shouldn't like to be +unfair to any one, and least of all to one who's lost her +bread-winner. Poor folks must keep together."</p> + +<p>"I know you won't let me want as long as you have +anything yourself. But you've got your own family +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +to provide for, and food doesn't grow on the downs +here. If only it doesn't happen here as it generally does—that +there's the will but not the means."</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay—one beggar must help the other. You +shan't be forgotten, if all goes well. But you must +spit three times after me when I've gone."</p> + +<p>"Ay, that I will," said the widow, "and I wish you +luck."</p> + +<hr class="w45" /> + +<p>Here was an opportunity for him to work. A little +luck with the catch, and all would be well. He was +glad Lars Jensen's widow wished him no ill in his new +undertaking. The curse of widows and the fatherless +was a heavy burden on a man's work.</p> + +<p>Now that Lars Peter was in the hamlet, he found it +not quite what he had imagined it to be; he could easily +think of many a better place to settle down in. The +whole place was poverty-stricken, and no-one seemed to +have any ambition. The fishermen went to sea because +they were obliged to. They seized on any excuse to +stay at home. "We're just as poor whether we work +hard or not," said they.</p> + +<p>"Why, what becomes of it all?" asked Lars Peter +at first, laughing incredulously.</p> + +<p>"You'll soon see yourself!" they answered, and +after a while he began to understand.</p> + +<p>That they went to work unwillingly was not much +to be wondered at. The inn-keeper managed everything. +He arranged it all as he liked. He paid for all +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +repairs when necessary, and provided all new implements. +He took care that no-one was hungry or cold, +and set up a store which supplied all that was needed—on +credit. It was all entered in the books, no doubt, but +none of them ever knew how much he owed. But +they did not care, and went on buying until he stopped +their credit for a time. On the other hand, if anything +were really wrong in one of the huts, he would step in +and help.</p> + +<p>That was why they put up with the existing condition +of things, and even seemed to be content—they +had no responsibilities. When they came ashore with +their catch, the inn-keeper took it over, and gave them +what he thought fit—just enough for a little pocket-money. +The rest went to pay off their debts—he said. +He never sent in any bills. "We'd better not go into +that," he would say with a smile, "do what you can." +One and all of them probably owed him money; it +would need a big purse to hold it all.</p> + +<p>They did not have much to spend. But then, on the +other hand, they had no expenses. If their implements +broke or were lost at sea, the inn-keeper provided +new ones, and necessaries had only to be fetched from +the store. It was an extraordinary existence, thought +Lars Peter; and yet it appealed to one somehow. It +was hard to provide what was needed when a man was +on his own, and tempting to become a pensioner as it +were, letting others take the whole responsibility.</p> + +<p>But it left no room for ambition. It was difficult for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> +him to get his partners to do more than was strictly +necessary; what good was it exerting themselves? They +went about half asleep, and with no spirit in their +work. Those who did not spend their time at the inn +drinking and playing cards had other vices; there was +no home life anywhere.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter had looked forward to mixing with his +fellow-men, discussing the events of the day, and learning +something new. Many of the fishermen had been +abroad in their young days, on merchant vessels or in +the navy, and there were events happening in other +countries which affected both him and them. But all +their talk was of their neighbors' affairs—the inn-keeper +always included. He was like a stone wall surrounding +them all. The roof of his house—a solid +building down by the coast, consisting of inn, farm and +store—could be seen from afar, and every one involuntarily +glanced at it before anything was said or +done. With him, all discussions ended.</p> + +<p>No-one had much good to say for him. All their +earnings went to him in one way or other—some spent +theirs at the inn, others preferred to take it out in +food—and all cursed him in secret.</p> + +<p>Well, that was their business. In the end, people +are treated according to their wisdom or stupidity. +Lars Peter did not feel inclined to sink to the level of +the others and be treated like a dumb animal. His +business was to see that the children lacked for nothing +and led a decent life.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="II_CHAPTER_X" id="II_CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a><br /> +The New World</span></h2> + + +<p>Ditte stood in the kitchen, cutting thick slices +of bread and dripping for the three hungry +little ones, who hung in the doorway following +her movements eagerly with their eyes. She +scolded them: it was only an hour since dinner, and +now they behaved as if they had not tasted food for a +week. "Me first, me first!" they shouted, stretching +out their hands. It stopped her washing up, and might +waken her father, who was having a nap up in the +attic—it was ridiculous. But it was the sea that gave +them such enormous appetites.</p> + +<p>The more she hushed them, the more noise they +made, kicking against the door with their bare feet. +They could not wait; as soon as one got a slice of bread, +he made off to the beach to play. They were full of +spirits—almost too much so indeed. "You mind the +king of the cannibal islands doesn't catch sight of you," +she shouted after them, putting her head out of the +door, but they neither heard nor saw.</p> + +<p>She went outside, and stood gazing after them, as +they tore along, kicking up the sand. Oh dear, Povl +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> +had dropped his bread and dripping in the sand—but +he picked it up again and ran on, eating as he went. +"It'll clean him inside," said Ditte, laughing to herself. +They were mad, simply mad—digging in the sand +and racing about! They had never been like this +before.</p> + +<p>She was glad of the change herself. Even if there +had been any opportunity, she could not play; all +desires had died long ago. But there was much of +interest. All these crooked, broken-down moss-grown +huts, clustered together on the downs under the high +cliffs, each surrounded by its dust-heap and fish-refuse +and implements, were to Ditte like so many different +worlds; she would have liked to investigate them all.</p> + +<p>It was her nature to take an interest in most things, +though, unlike Kristian, she didn't care to roam about. +He was never still for a moment; he had barely found +out what was behind one hill, before he went on to the +next. He always wanted to see beyond the horizon, +and his father always said, he might travel round the +whole world that way, for the horizon was always +changing. Lars Peter often teased him about this; it +became quite a fairy tale to the restless Kristian, who +wanted to go over the top of every new hill he saw, +until at last he fell down in the hamlet again—right +down into Ditte's stew-pan. He had often been punished +for his roaming—but to no good. Povl wanted +to pick everything to pieces, to see what was inside, or +was busy with hammer and nails. He was already +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> +nearly as clever with his hands as Kristian. Most of +what he made went to pieces, but if a handle came off a +brush, he would quickly mend it again. "He only pulls +things to pieces so as to have something to mend again," +said his father. Sister stood looking on with her big +eyes.</p> + +<p>Ditte was always doing something useful, otherwise +she was not happy. With Granny's death, all her interest +in the far-off had vanished; that there was something +good in store for her she never doubted, it acted +as a star and took away the bitterness of her gloomy +childhood. She was not conscious of what it would +be, but it was always there like a gleam of light. The +good in store for her would surely find her. She stayed +at home; the outside world had no attractions for her.</p> + +<p>Her childhood had fallen in places where neighbors +were few and far between. The more enjoyment it was +to her now to have the society of others.</p> + +<p>Ditte took a keen interest in her fellow-beings, and +had not been many days in the hamlet before she knew +all about most people's affairs—how married people +lived together, and who were sweethearts. She could +grasp the situation at a glance—and see all that lay +behind it; she was quick to put two and two together. +Her dull and toilsome life had developed that sense, +as a reward for all she had gone through. There +was some spite in it too—a feeling of vengeance against +all who looked down on the rag and bone man, although +they themselves had little to boast about. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p> + +<p>The long, hunch-backed hut, one end of which the +inn-keeper had let off to them, lay almost in the midst +of the hamlet, just above the little bay. Two other +families beside lived in the little hut, so they only had +two small rooms and a kitchen to call their own, and +Lars Peter had to sleep in the attic. It was only a +hovel, "the workhouse" it was generally called, but it +was the only place to be had, and they had to make the +best of it, until Lars Peter could build something himself—and +they might thank the inn-keeper that they +had a roof above their heads. Ditte was not satisfied +with the hut—the floors were rotten, and would not +dry when she had washed them. It was no better than +the Crow's Nest—and there was much less room. She +looked forward to the new house that was to be built. +It should be a real house, with a red roof glistening in +the sun, and an iron sink that would not rot away.</p> + +<p>But in spite of this she was quite happy. When she +stood washing up inside the kitchen door, she could see +the downs, and eagerly her eyes followed all who went +to and fro. Her little brain wondered where they were +going, and on what errand. And if she heard voices +through the wall, or from the other end of the hut, she +would stop in her work and listen breathlessly. It was +all so exciting; the other families in the hut were always +bustling and moving about—the old grandmother, who +lay lame in bed on the other side of the wall, cursing +existence, while the twins screamed at the top of their +voices, and the Lord only knew where the daughter-in-law +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> +was, and Jacob the fisherman and his daughter in +the other end of the hut. Suddenly, as one stood thinking +of nothing at all, the inn-keeper would come strolling +over the downs, looking like a goblin, to visit the +young wife next door; then the old grandmother +thumped on the floor with her crutch, cursing everything +and everybody.</p> + +<p>There was much gossip in the hamlet—of sorrow +and shame and crime; Ditte could follow the stories herself, +often to the very end. She was quick to find the +thread, even in the most difficult cases.</p> + +<p>Her life was much happier now: there was little to +do in the house, and no animals to look after, so she had +more time of her own. Her schooldays were over, and +she was soon to be confirmed. Even the nag, whom at +first she had been able to keep her eye on from the +kitchen window, needed no looking after now. The inn-keeper +had forbidden them to let it feed on the downs, +and had taken it on to his own farm. There it had been +during the winter, and they only saw it when it was +carting sea-weed or bringing a load of fish from the +beach for the inn-keeper. It was not well-treated in its +present home, and had all the hard tasks given it, so as +to spare the inn-keeper's own animals. Tears came +into Ditte's eyes when she thought of it. It became +like a beast of burden in the fairy tale, and no-one there +to defend it. It was long since it had pulled crusts of +bread from her mouth with its soft muzzle.</p> + +<p>Ditte lost her habit of stooping, and began to fill +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> +out as she grew up. She enjoyed the better life and +the children's happiness—the one with the other added +to her well-being. Her hair had grown, and allowed +itself the luxury of curling over her forehead, and her +chin was soft and round. No-one could say she was +pretty, but her eyes were beautiful—always on the +alert, watching for something useful to do. Her hands +were red and rough—she had not yet learned how to +take care of them.</p> + +<p>Ditte had finished in the kitchen, and went into the +living room. She sat down on the bench under the +window, and began patching the children's clothes; at +the same time she could see what was happening on the +beach and on the downs.</p> + +<p>Down on the shore the children were digging with all +their might, building sand-gardens and forts. To the +right was a small hut, neat and well cared for, outside +which Rasmus Olsen, the fisherman, stood shouting in +through the window. His wife had turned him out—it +always sounded so funny when he had words with his +wife, he mumbled on loudly and monotonously as a +preacher—it made one feel quite sleepy. There was +not a scrap of bad temper in him. Most likely his wife +would come out soon, and she would give it him in another +fashion.</p> + +<p>They were always quarreling, those two—and always +about the daughter. Both spoiled her, and each tried +to get her over to their side—and came to blows over it. +And Martha, the wretch, sided first with one and then +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> +with the other—whichever paid her best. She was a +pretty girl, slim but strong enough to push a barrow +full of fish or gear through the loose sand on the downs, +but she was wild—and had plenty to say for herself. +When she had had a sweetheart for a short time, she +always ended by quarreling with him.</p> + +<p>The two old people were deaf, and always came outside +to quarrel—as if they needed air. They themselves +thought they spoke in a low voice, all the time +shouting so loudly that the whole hamlet knew what +the trouble was about.</p> + +<p>Ditte could see the sea from the window—it glittered +beneath the blazing sun, pale blue and wonderful. +It was just like a big being, softly caressing—and then +suddenly it would flare up! The boats were on the +beach, looking like cattle in their stalls, side by side. +On the bench, two old fishermen sat smoking.</p> + +<p>Now all the children from the hamlet came rushing +up from the beach, like a swarm of frightened bees. +They must have caught sight of the inn-keeper! He +did not approve of children playing; they ought to be +doing something useful. They fled as soon as he +appeared, imagining that he had the evil eye. The +swarm spread over the downs in all directions, and +suddenly vanished, as if the earth had swallowed them.</p> + +<p>Then he came tramping in his heavy leather boots. +His long arms reached to his knees. When he went +through the loose sand, his great bony hands on his +thighs, he looked as if he were walking on all fours. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> +His misshapen body was like a pair of bellows, his head +resting between his broad shoulders, moved up and +down like a buoy; every breath sounded like a steam-whistle, +and could be heard from afar. Heavens, +how ugly he looked! He was like a crouching goblin, +who could make himself as big as he pleased, and see +over all the huts in his search for food. The hard +shut mouth was so big that it could easily swallow a +child's head—and his eyes! Ditte shut her own, and +shivered.</p> + +<p>She quickly opened them, however; she must find out +what his business was, taking care not to be seen herself.</p> + +<p>The ogre, as the children called him, mainly because +of his big mouth, came to a standstill at Rasmus Olsen's +house. "Well, are you two quarreling again?" he +shouted jovially. "What's wrong now—Martha, I +suppose?"</p> + +<p>Rasmus Olsen was silent, and shuffled off towards the +beach. But his wife was not afraid, and turned her +wrath on to the inn-keeper. "What's it to do with +you?" she cried. "Mind your own business!" The +inn-keeper passed on without taking any notice of her, +and entered the house. Most likely he wanted to see +Martha; she followed on his heels. "You can save +yourself the trouble, there's nothing for you to pry +into!" she screamed. Shortly afterwards he came out +again, with the woman still scolding at his heels, and +went across the downs. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p> + +<p>The fisherman's wife stood looking round, then +catching sight of Ditte, she came over. She had not +finished yet, and needed some object to go on with. +"Here he goes round prying, the beastly hunch-back!" +she screamed, still beside herself with rage, "walking +straight into other people's rooms as if they were his +own. And that doddering old idiot daren't throw him +out, but slinks off. Ay, they're fine men here on the +downs; a woman has to manage it all, the food and the +shame and everything! If only the boy had lived." +And throwing her apron over her head, she began to +cry.</p> + +<p>"Was he drowned?" asked Ditte sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"I think of it all day long; I shall never forget him; +there'll be no happiness in life for me. Maybe it's +stupid to cry, but I can't help it—it's the mean way he +met his death. If he had been struck down by illness, +and the Lord had had a finger in it—'twould be quite +another thing! But that he was strong and well—'twas +his uncle wanted him to go out shooting wild +duck. I tried to stop him, but the boy <i>would</i> go, and +there was no peace until he did. 'But, Mother,' he +said, 'you know I can handle a gun; why, I shoot every +day.' Then they went out in the boat with two guns, +and not ten minutes afterwards he was back again, lying +dead in a pool of blood. That's why I can't bear to see +wild ducks, or taste 'em either. Whenever I sit by the +window, I can see them bringing him in—there they are +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> +again. That's why my eyes are dimmed, I'm always +crying: 'tis all over with me now."</p> + +<p>The woman was overcome by grief. Her hands +trembled, and moved aimlessly over the table and +back again.</p> + +<p>Ditte looked at her from a new point of view. +"Hush, hush, don't cry any more," said she, putting +her arms round her and joining in her tears. "Wait—I'll +make a cup of coffee." And gradually she succeeded +in comforting her.</p> + +<p>"You've good hands," said the old woman, taking +Ditte's hand gratefully. "They're rough and red because +your heart's in the right place."</p> + +<p>As they were having their coffee, Lars Peter returned. +He had been to see the inn-keeper, to hear +how the nag was being treated, and was out of humor. +Ditte asked what was troubling him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's the nag—they'll finish it soon," said he +miserably.</p> + +<p>The fisherman's wife looked at him kindly. "At +least I can hear your voice, even though you're talking +to some one else," said she. "Ay, he's taken your +horse—and cart too! He can find a use for everything, +honor and money—and food too! D'you go to +the tap-room?"</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't been there yet," said Lars Peter, +"and I don't think to go there every day."</p> + +<p>"No, that's just it: you're not a drinker, and such +are treated worse than the others. He likes folks to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> +spend their money in the tap-room more than in the +store—that's his way. He wants your money, and +there's no getting out of it."</p> + +<p>"How did he come to lord it over the place? It +hasn't always been like this," said Lars Peter.</p> + +<p>"How—because the folk here are no good—at all +events here in the hamlet. If we've no-one to rule us, +then we run about whining like dogs without a master +until we find some one to kick us. We lick his boots +and choose him for our master, and then we're satisfied. +In my childhood it was quite different here, everybody +owned their own hut. But then he came and got hold +of everything. There was an inn here of course, and +when he found he couldn't get everything his own way, +he started all these new ideas with costly fishing-nets +and better ways and gear, and God knows what. He +gave them new-fangled things—and grabbed the catch. +The fishermen get much more now, but what's the +good, when he takes it all! I'd like to know what made +you settle down here?"</p> + +<p>"Round about it was said that he was so good to +you fisher-people, and as far as I could see there was +no mistake about it either. But it looks rather different +now a man's got into the thing."</p> + +<p>"Heavens! <i>good</i>, you say! He helps and helps, +until a man hasn't a shirt left to his back. Just you +wait; you'll be drawn in too—and the girl as well +if she's pretty enough for him. At present he's only +taking what you've got. Afterwards he'll help you till +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> +you're so deep in debt that you'd like to hang yourself. +Then he'll talk to you about God and Holy Scripture. +For he can preach too—like the devil!"</p> + +<p>Lars Peter stared hopelessly. "I've heard that he +and his wife hold some kind of meetings, but we've +never been; we don't care much for that sort of thing. +Not that we're unbelievers, but so far we've found it +best to mind our own affairs, and leave the Lord to look +after His."</p> + +<p>"We don't go either, but then Rasmus drinks—ay, +ay, you'll go through it all yourself. And here am I +sitting gossiping instead of getting home." She went +home to get supper ready for the doddering idiot.</p> + +<p>They sat silent for a few minutes. Then Ditte said: +"If only we'd gone to some other place!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, things are never as black as they're painted! +And I don't feel inclined to leave my money and everything +behind me," answered Lars Peter.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="II_CHAPTER_XI" id="II_CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a><br /> +Gingerbread House</span></h2> + + +<p>Now that the children were surrounded by +people, they felt as if they lived in an ant-hill. +The day was full of happenings, all equally +exciting—and the most exciting of it all was their +fear of the "ogre." Suddenly, when they were playing +hide-and-seek amongst the boats, or sat riding +on the roof of the engine-house, he would appear, his +long arms grasping the air, and if he caught hold of +one of them, they would get something else to add to +their fear. His breath smelt of raw meat, the children +declared; they did not make him out better than he +was. To run away from him, with their hearts thumping, +gave zest to their existence.</p> + +<p>And when they lay in bed at night listening, they +heard sounds in the house, which did not come from any +of their people. Then came steps in stocking-feet up +in the attic, and they would look towards Ditte. Kristian +knew what it meant, and they buried their heads +underneath the bedclothes, whispering. It was Jacob, +the fisherman, creeping about upstairs, listening to what +they said. He always stole about, trying to find out +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> +from the talk a certain <i>word</i> he could use to drive the +devil out of the inn-keeper. The children worried over +the question, because he had promised them sixpence +if they could discover the word. And from the other +side of the wall, they could hear the old grandmother's +cough. She had dropsy, which made her fatter and +fatter outside, but was hollow within. She coughed up +her inside.</p> + +<p>The son was on a long voyage, and seldom came +home; but each time he returned, he found one of the +children dead and his wife with a new baby to make +up for it. She neglected her children, and in consequence +they died. "Light come, light go!" said folk, +and laughed. Now only the twins remained: there they +lay in the big wooden cradle, screaming day and night, +with a crust of bread as a comforter. The mother was +never at home. Ditte looked after them, or they +would have perished.</p> + +<p>A short distance away on the downs, was a little +house, quite different from the others. It was the most +beautiful house the little ones had ever seen: the door +and the window-panes were painted blue; the beams +were not tarred as in the other huts, but painted brown; +the bricks were red with a blue stripe. The ground +round the house was neat: the sand was raked, and +by the well it was dry and clean. A big elder—the only +tree in the whole hamlet—grew beside the well. On +the window-sill were plants, with red and blue flowers, +and behind them sat an old woman peeping out. She +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> +wore a white cap, and the old man had snow-white +hair. When the weather was fine he was always pottering +round the house. And occasionally the old +woman appeared at the door, admiring his handiwork. +"How nice you've made everything look, little +father!" said she. "Ay, it's all for you, little mother," +he answered, and they laughed at each other. Then he +took hold of her hand, and they tripped towards the +elder tree and sat down in the shade; they were like a +couple of children, but she soon wanted to go back to +her window, and it was said that she had not gone beyond +the well for many a year.</p> + +<p>The old people kept to themselves, and did not mix +with the other inhabitants of the hamlet, but when +Lars Peter's children passed, the old woman always +looked out and nodded and smiled. They made some +excuse to pass the house several times a day: there +was something in the pretty little place and the two old +people which attracted them. The same cleanness and +order that ruled their house was apparent in their lives; +no-one in the hamlet had anything but good to say of +them.</p> + +<p>Amongst themselves, the children called it Gingerbread +House, and imagined wonderful things inside +it. One day, hand in hand, the three went up and +knocked on the door. The old man opened it. "What +do you want, children?" he asked kindly, but blocking +the door. Yes, what did they want—none of them +knew. And there they stood open-mouthed. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Let them come inside, father," a voice said. +"Come in then, children." They entered a room that +smelt of flowers and apples. Everything was painted: +ceiling, beams and walls; it all shone; the floor was +painted white, and the table was so brightly polished +that the window was reflected in it. In a softly cushioned +armchair a cat lay sleeping.</p> + +<p>The children were seated underneath the window, +each with a plate of jelly. A waterproof cloth was put +on the table, in case they spilled anything. The old +couple trotted round them anxiously; their eyes gleamed +with pleasure at the unexpected visit, but they were +uneasy about their furniture. They were not accustomed +to children, and Povl nearly frightened their +lives out of them, the way he behaved. He lifted his +plate with his little hands, nearly upsetting its contents, +and said: "Potatoes too!" He thought it was jam. +But sister helped him to finish, and then it was happily +over. Kristian had gulped his share in a couple of +spoonfuls, and stood by the door, ready to run off to +the beach—already longing for something new. They +were each given a red apple, and shown politely to the +door; the old couple were tired. Povl put his cheek on +the old woman's skirt. "Me likes you!" said he.</p> + +<p>"God bless you, little one! Did you hear that, +father?" she said, nodding her withered old head.</p> + +<p>Kristian thought he too ought to show his appreciation. +"If you want any errands done, only tell me," +said he, throwing back his head. "I can run ever so +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> +fast." And to show how clever he was on his legs, +he rushed down the path. A little way down, he turned +triumphantly. "As quick as that," he shouted.</p> + +<p>"Yes, thanks, we'll remember," nodded the two old +people.</p> + +<p>This little visit was the introduction to a pleasant +acquaintance. The old people liked the children, and +even fetched them in when passing, and bore patiently +with all their awkwardness. Not that they were allowed +to tumble about—they could do that on the +downs. The old man would tell them a story, or get his +flute and play to them. The children came home with +sparkling eyes, and quieter than usual, to tell Ditte all +about it.</p> + +<p>The following day, Ditte went about pondering how +she could do the old people a service for their kindness +towards the children, and, as she could think of nothing, +she took Kristian into her confidence. He was so clever +in finding ways out of difficulties.</p> + +<p>It was the fisher-people's custom to put aside some +of the catch before it was delivered to the inn-keeper, +and one day Ditte took a beautiful thick plaice, and told +Kristian to run with it to the old couple. "But they +mustn't know that it is from us," said she. "They'll +be having their after-dinner nap, so you can easily +leave it without their seeing you." Kristian put it down +on the little bench underneath the elder; but when later +on he crept past, to see if it had been taken, only the +tail and the fins remained—the cat had eaten it up. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> +Ditte scolded him well, and Kristian had to puzzle his +brains once more.</p> + +<p>"Father might get Klavs, and take them for a drive +on Sunday," said he. "They never get anywhere—their +legs are too old."</p> + +<p>"You silly!—we've nothing to do with Klavs now," +Ditte said sharply.</p> + +<p>But now she knew what to do! She would scrub out +the <i>little house</i> for them every night; the old woman +had to kneel down to do it every morning. It was a +sin she should have to do it. After the old people had +gone to bed—they went to rest early—Ditte took a pail +of water and a scrubbing brush, and some sand in her +pinafore, and crept up. Kristian stood outside at home, +waiting for her. He was not allowed to go with her, +for fear of disturbing the old couple—he was so +noisy.</p> + +<p>"What d'you think they'll say when they come down +in the morning and find it all so clean?" cried he, +hopping first <a class="corr" name="TC_9" id="TC_9" title="one">on</a> one foot and then the other. He +would have liked to stay up all night to see their +surprise.</p> + +<p>Next time the children visited the old people, the old +man told them a story about a little fairy who came +every night to scour and scrub, to save his little mother. +Then Kristian laughed—he knew better.</p> + +<p>"It was Ditte!" he burst out. He put his hand to +his mouth next moment, but it was too late.</p> + +<p>"But Ditte isn't a fairy!" broke out sister Else, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> +offended. They all three laughed at her until she began +to cry, and had to be comforted with a cake.</p> + +<p>On their way home, whom should they meet but +Uncle Johannes, who was looking for their house. He +was rigged out very smartly, and looked like a well-to-do +tradesman. Lars Peter was pleased to see him. +They had not met since their unfortunate parting in the +Crow's Nest, and now all was forgotten. He had +heard one or two things about him—Johannes kept the +gossips busy. The two brothers shook hands as if no +unpleasantness had come between them. "Sit down +and have something to eat," said Lars Peter. "There's +boiled cod today."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, but I'm feeding up at the inn later on; +we're a few tradesmen up there together."</p> + +<p>"That'll be a grand dinner, I suppose?" Lars +Peter's eyes shone; he had never been to a dinner party +himself.</p> + +<p>"Ay, that it will—they do things pretty well up +there. He's a good sort, the inn-keeper."</p> + +<p>"Some think so; others don't. It all depends how +you look at him. You'd better not tell them you're +my brother—it'll do you no good to have poor relations +down here."</p> + +<p>Johannes laughed: "I've told the inn-keeper—he +spoke well of you. You were his best fisherman, he +said."</p> + +<p>"Really, did he say that?" Lars Peter flushed +with pride. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But a bit close, he said. You thought codfish +could talk reason."</p> + +<p>"Well, now—what the devil did he mean by it? +What nonsense! Of course codfish can't speak!"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. But he's a clever man—he might +have been one of the learned sort."</p> + +<p>"You're getting on well, I hear," said Lars Peter, +to change the subject. "Is it true you're half engaged +to a farmer's daughter?"</p> + +<p>Johannes smiled, stroking his woman-like mouth, +where a small mustache was visible. "There's a deal +of gossip about," was all he said.</p> + +<p>"If only you keep her—and don't have the same bad +luck that I had. I had a sweetheart who was a farmer's +daughter, but she died before we were married."</p> + +<p>"Is that true, Father?" broke out Ditte, proud of +her father's standing.</p> + +<hr class="w45" /> + +<p>"What do you think of him, my girl?" asked Lars +Peter, when his brother had gone. "Picked up a bit, +hasn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, he looks grand," admitted Ditte. "But I +don't like him all the same."</p> + +<p>"You're so hard to please." Lars Peter was offended. +"Other folks seem to like him. He'll marry +well."</p> + +<p>"Ay, that may be. It's because he's got black hair—we +women are mad on that. But I don't think he's +good."</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="II_CHAPTER_XII" id="II_CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a><br /> +Daily Troubles</span></h2> + + +<p>It was getting on towards Christmas, a couple of +months after they had come to the hamlet, when +one day Lars Peter was mad enough to quarrel +with the inn-keeper. He was not even drunk and it +was a thing unheard of in the hamlet for a sober man +to give the inn-keeper a piece of his mind. But he had +been more than stupid, every one agreed, and he himself +too.</p> + +<p>It was over the nag. Lars Peter could not get used +to seeing the horse work for others, and it cut him to +the heart that it should have to work so hard. It +angered him, too, to be idle himself, in spite of the +inn-keeper's promises—and there were many other +things besides. One day he declared that Klavs +should come home, and he would begin to drive round +again. He went up to the farm and demanded his +horse.</p> + +<p>"Certainly!" The inn-keeper followed him out and +ordered the horse to be harnessed. "Here's your +horse, cart and everything belonging to it—is there anything +more of yours?" +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lars Peter was somewhat taken aback. He had expected +opposition and here was the inn-keeper quite +friendly, in fact almost fawning on him. "I wanted +to cart some things home," said he, rather crestfallen.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Lars Peter Hansen," said the inn-keeper, +preceding him into the shop. He weighed out all Lars +Peter ordered, reminded him of one thing after another, +laying the articles in a heap on the counter. +"Have you raisins for the Christmas cakes?" he asked. +"Ditte bakes herself." He knew every one's doings +and was thoughtful in helping them.</p> + +<p>When Lars Peter was about to carry the things out +to the cart, he said smilingly, "That will be—let me +see, how much do you owe for last time?"</p> + +<p>"I'd like to let it wait a bit—till I get settled up +after the auction!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm afraid it can't. I don't know anything +about you yet."</p> + +<p>"Oh, so you're paying me out." Lars Peter began +to fume.</p> + +<p>"Paying you out? Not at all. But I like to know +what sort of a man I'm dealing with before I can trust +him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed! It's easy enough to see what sort of +a fellow you are!" shouted Lars Peter and rushed out.</p> + +<p>The inn-keeper followed him out to the cart. +"You'll have a different opinion of me some day," said +he gently, "then we can talk it over again. Never +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> +mind. But another thing—where'll you get food for +the horse?"</p> + +<p>"I'll manage somehow," answered Lars Peter +shortly.</p> + +<p>"And stabling? It's setting in cold now."</p> + +<p>"You leave that to me!"</p> + +<p>Lars Peter drove off at a walking pace. He knew +perfectly well that he could find neither food nor stabling +for the horse without the inn-keeper's help. Two +or three days afterwards he sent Kristian with the +horse and cart back to the farm.</p> + +<p>He had done this once, but he was wiser now—or at +all events more careful. When occasionally he felt a +longing for the road and wanted to spend a day on it +in company with Klavs, he asked politely for the loan +of it, and he was allowed to have it. Then he and the +horse were like sweethearts who seldom saw each +other.</p> + +<p>He was no wiser than before. The inn-keeper he +couldn't make out—with his care for others and his +desire to rule.</p> + +<p>His partners and the other men he didn't understand +either. He had spent his life in the country where +people kept to themselves—where he had often longed +for society. It looked cosy—as seen from the lonely +Crow's Nest—people lived next door to each other; +they could give a helping hand occasionally and chat +with each other. But what pleasure had a man here? +They toiled unwillingly, pushing responsibilities and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> +troubles on to others, getting only enough for a meager +meal from day to day and letting another man run off +with their profits. It was extraordinary how that +crooked devil scraped in everything with his long arms, +without any one daring to protest. He must have an +enormous hold on them somehow.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter did not think of rebelling again. When +his anger rose he had only to think of fisher-Jacob, +who was daily before his eyes. Every one knew how +he had become the wreck he was. He had once owned +a big boat, and had hired men to work with him, so he +thought it unnecessary to submit to the inn-keeper. +But the inn-keeper licked him into shape. He refused +to buy his fish, so that they had to sail elsewhere with +it, but this outlet he closed for them too. They could +buy no goods nor gear in the village—they were +shunned like lepers, no one dared help them. Then his +partners turned against him, blaming him for their +ill-luck. He tried to sell up and moved to another +place, but the inn-keeper would not buy his possessions +and no-one else dared; he had to stay on—and learn to +submit. Although he owned a boat and gear, he had to +hire it from the inn-keeper. It told so heavily on him +that he lost his reason; now he muddled about looking +for a magic word to fell the inn-keeper; at times he +went round with a gun, declaring he would shoot him. +But the inn-keeper only laughed.</p> + +<p>Ditte talked a great deal with the women. They all +agreed that the inn-keeper had the evil eye. He was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> +always in her mind; she went in an everlasting dread +of him. When she saw him on the downs she almost +screamed; Lars Peter tried to reason her out +of it.</p> + +<p>Little Povl came home from the beach one morning +feeling ill. He was sick, and his head ached, he was +hot one moment and cold the next. Ditte undressed +him and put him to bed; then called her father, who +was asleep in the attic.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter hurried down. He had been out at sea +the whole night and stumbled as he walked.</p> + +<p>"Why, Povl, little man, got a tummy-ache?" asked +he, putting his hand on the boy's forehead. It +throbbed, and was burning hot. The boy turned his +head away.</p> + +<p>"He looks really bad," he said, seating himself on +the edge of the bed, "he doesn't even know us. It's +come on quickly, there was nothing the matter with +him this morning."</p> + +<p>"He came home a few minutes ago—he was all +gray in the face and cold, and he's burning hot now. +Just listen to the way he's breathing."</p> + +<p>They sat by the bedside, looking at him in silence; +Lars Peter held his little hand in his. It was black, +with short stumpy fingers, the nails almost worn down +into the flesh. He never spared himself, the little +fellow, always ready; wide awake from the moment +he opened his eyes. Here he lay, gasping. It was a +sad sight! Was it serious? Was there to be trouble +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> +with the children again? The accident with his first +children he had shaken off—but he had none to spare +now! If anything happened to them, he had nothing +more to live for—it would be the end. He understood +now that they had kept him up—through the business +with Sörine and all that followed. It was the children +who gave him strength for each new day. All his +broken hopes, all his failures, were dimmed in the +cheery presence of the children; that was perhaps why +he clung to them, as he did.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Povl jumped up and wanted to get out of +bed. "Povl do an' play, do an' play!" he said over +and over again.</p> + +<p>"He wants to go out and play," said Ditte, looking +questioningly at her father.</p> + +<p>"Then maybe he's better already," broke out Lars +Peter cheerily. "Let him go if he wants to."</p> + +<p>Ditte dressed him, but he drooped like a withered +flower, and she put him to bed again.</p> + +<p>"Shall I fetch Lars Jensen's widow?" she asked. +"She knows about illness and what to do."</p> + +<p>No—Lars Peter thought not. He would rather +have a proper doctor. "As soon as Kristian comes +home from school, he can run up to the inn, and ask for +the loan of the nag," said he. "They can hardly refuse +it when the child's ill."</p> + +<p>Kristian came back without the horse and cart, but +with the inn-keeper at his heels. He came in without +knocking at the door, as was his custom. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I hear your little boy's ill," he said kindly. "I +thought I ought to come and see you, and perhaps give +you a word of comfort. I've brought a <a class="corr" name="TC_10" id="TC_10" title="botttle">bottle</a> of something +to give him every half hour; it's mixed with +prayers, so at all events it can't do him any harm. +Keep him well wrapped up in bed." He leaned over +the bed, listening to the child's breathing. Povl's eyes +were stiff with fear.</p> + +<p>"You'd better keep away from the bed," said Lars +Peter. "Can't you see the boy's afraid of you?" His +voice trembled with restrained fury.</p> + +<p>"There's many that way," answered the inn-keeper +good-naturedly, moving away from the bed. "And +yet I live on, and thrive—and do my duty as far as I +can. Well, I comfort myself with the thought that +the Lord has some reward in store. Perhaps it does +folks no harm to be afraid of something, Lars Peter! +But give him the mixture at once."</p> + +<p>"I'd rather fetch the doctor," said Lars Peter, reluctantly +giving the child the medicine. He would have +preferred to throw it out of the window—and the inn-keeper +with it.</p> + +<p>"Ay, so I understood, but I thought I'd just have +a talk to you first. What good's a doctor? It's only +an expense, and he can't change God's purpose. Poor +people should learn to save."</p> + +<p>"Ay, of course, when a man's poor he must take +things as they come!" Lars Peter laughed bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Up at the inn we never send for the doctor. We +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> +put our lives in God's keeping. If so be it's His will, +then——"</p> + +<p>"It seems to me there's much that happens that's +not His will at all—and in this place too," said Lars +Peter defiantly.</p> + +<p>"And yet I'll tell you that not even the smallest +cod is caught—in the hamlet either—without the will +of the Father." The inn-keeper's voice was earnest; +it sounded like Scripture itself, but there was a look in +his eyes, which made Lars Peter uncomfortable all the +same. He was quite relieved when this unpleasant +guest took his departure and disappeared over the +downs.</p> + +<p>Ditte came down from the attic, where she had hidden. +"What d'you want to hide from that hunch-back +for?" shouted Lars Peter. He needed an outlet for +his temper. Ditte flushed and turned away her face.</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards a knock sounded on the wall. It +was their lame neighbor. The daughter-in-law was at +home, and sat with the twins in her arms.</p> + +<p>"I heard he was in your house," said the old one—"his +strong voice sounded through the walls. You be +careful of him!"</p> + +<p>"He was very kind," said Ditte evasively. "He +spoke kindly to father, and brought something for little +Povl."</p> + +<p>"So he brought something—was it medicine? Pour +it into the gutter at once. It can't do any harm there."</p> + +<p>"But Povl's had some." +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></p> + +<p>The old woman threw up her hands. "For the love +of Jesus! for the love of Jesus! Poor child!" she +wailed. "Did he say anything about death? They say +in the village here every family owes him a death! +Did he say he'd provide the coffin? He manages everything—he's +always so good and helpful when anything's wrong. Ay, +maybe he was good-tempered—and the child'll be allowed to live."</p> + +<p>Ditte burst into tears; she thought it looked bad for +little Povl, if his life depended on the inn-keeper. He +was vexed with them because the little ones were not +sent to Sunday-school—perhaps he was taking his revenge.</p> + +<p>But in a few days Povl recovered, and was as lively +as ever, running about and never still for a minute, +until suddenly he would fall asleep in the midst of his +play. Lars Peter was cheerful again, and went about +humming. Ditte sang at her washing up, following the +little lad's movements with her motherly eyes. But +for safety's sake she sent the children to Sunday-school.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chapbreak" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span></p> +<h2><span class="caps smaller"><a name="II_CHAPTER_XIII" id="II_CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a><br /> +Ditte's Confirmation</span></h2> + + +<p>That autumn Ditte was to be confirmed. She +found it very hard to learn by rote all the +psalms and hymns. She had not much time for +preparation, and her little brain had been trained +in an entirely different direction than that of learning +by heart; when she had finished her work, and +brought out her catechism, it refused to stay in her +mind.</p> + +<p>One day she came home crying. The parson had +declared that she was too far behind the others and +must wait for the next confirmation; he dared not take +the responsibility of presenting her. She was in the +depths of despair; it was considered a disgrace to be +kept back.</p> + +<p>"Well,—there's no end of our troubles, it seems," +broke out Lars Peter bitterly. "They can do what +they like with folks like us. I suppose we should be +thankful for being allowed to live."</p> + +<p>"I know just as much as the others, it's not fair," +sobbed Ditte.</p> + +<p>"Fair—as if that had anything to do with it! If +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> +you did not know a line of your catechism, I'd like to +see the girl that's better prepared to meet the Lord +than you. You could easily take his housekeeping on +your shoulders; and He would be pretty blind if He +couldn't see that His little angels could never be better +looked after. The fact is we haven't given the parson +enough, they're like that—all of them—and it's the +likes of them that have the keys of Heaven! Well, it +can't be helped, it won't kill us, I suppose."</p> + +<p>Ditte refused to be comforted. "I <i>will</i> be confirmed," +she cried. "I won't go to another class and +be jeered at."</p> + +<p>"Maybe if we tried oiling the parson a little," Lars +Peter said thoughtfully. "But it'll cost a lot of +money."</p> + +<p>"Go to the inn-keeper then—he can make it all +right."</p> + +<p>"Ay, that he can—there's not much he can't put +right, if he's the mind to. But I'm not in his good +books, I'm afraid."</p> + +<p>"That doesn't matter. He treats every one alike +whether he likes them or not."</p> + +<p>Lars Peter did not like his errand; he was loth to +ask favors of the man; however, it must be done for the +sake of the child. Much to his surprise the inn-keeper +received him kindly. "I'll certainly speak to the parson +and have it seen to," said he. "And you can send +the girl up here some day; it's the custom in the hamlet +for <i>the ogre's</i> wife to provide clothes for girls going to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> +be confirmed." His big mouth widened in a grin. +Lars Peter felt rather foolish.</p> + +<p>So Ditte was confirmed after all. For a whole week +she wore a long black dress, and her hair in a thin +plait down her back. In the church she had cried; +whether it was the joy of feeling grown-up, or because +it was the custom to cry, would be difficult to say. But +she enjoyed the following week, when Lars Jensen's +widow came and did her work, while she made calls +and received congratulations. She was followed by a +crowd of admiring girls, and small children of the +hamlet rushed out to her shouting: "Hi, give us a ha'penny!" +Lars Peter had to give all the halfpennies he could +gather together.</p> + +<p>The week over, she returned to her old duties. Ditte +discovered that she had been grown-up for several +years; her duties were neither heavier nor lighter. She +soon got accustomed to her new estate; when they were +invited out, she would take her knitting with her and sit +herself with the grown-ups.</p> + +<p>"Won't you go with the young people?" Lars Peter +would say. "They're playing on the green tonight." +She went, but soon returned.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter was getting used to things in the hamlet; +at least he only grumbled when he had been to the tap-room +and was a little drunk. He no longer looked after +the house so well; when Ditte was short of anything +she had always to ask for it—and often more +than once. It was not the old Lars Peter of the Crow's +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> +Nest, who used to say, "Well, how goes it, Ditte, got +all you want?" Having credit at the store had made +him careless. When Ditte reproached him, he answered: +"Well, what the devil, a man never sees +a farthing now, and must take things as they +come!"</p> + +<p>The extraordinary thing about the inn-keeper was, +that he seemed to know everything. As long as Lars +Peter had a penny left, the inn-keeper was unwilling +to give him credit, and made him pay up what he owed +before starting a new account. In this way he had +stripped him of one hundred-crown note after the other, +until by Christmas nothing was left.</p> + +<p>"There!" said Lars Peter when the last note went, +"that's the last of the Crow's Nest. Maybe now +we'll have peace! And he can treat us like the others +in the hamlet—or I don't know where the food's to +come from."</p> + +<p>But the inn-keeper thought differently. However +often the children came in with basket and list, they +returned empty-handed. "He seems to think +there's still something to get out of us," said Lars +Peter.</p> + +<p>It was a sad lookout. <a class="corr" name="TC_11" id="TC_11" title="Dite">Ditte</a> had promised herself +that they should have a really good time this +Christmas; she had ordered flour, and things for cakes, +and a piece of pork to be stuffed and cooked like a +goose. Here she was empty-handed; all her beautiful +plans had come to nothing. Up in the attic was the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> +Christmas tree which the little ones had taken from +the plantation; what good was it now, without candles +and ornaments?</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said Lars Peter, "we'll get over that +too. We've got fish and potatoes, so we shan't +starve!" But the little ones cried.</p> + +<p>Ditte made the best of a bad job, and went down to +the beach, where she got a pair of wild ducks that had +been caught in the nets: she cleaned and dressed them—and +thus their Christmas dinner was provided. A +few red apples—which from time to time had been +given her by the old couple at the Gingerbread House, +and which she had not eaten because they were so +beautiful—were put on the Christmas tree. "We'll +hang the lantern on the top, and then it'll look quite +fine," she explained to the little ones. She had borrowed +some coffee and some brandy—her father should +not be without his Christmas drink.</p> + +<p>She had scrubbed and cleaned the whole day, to +make everything look as nice as possible; now she went +into the kitchen and lit the fire. Lars Peter and the +children were in the living room in the dusk—she could +hear her father telling stories of when he was a boy. +Ditte hummed, feeling pleased with everything.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she screamed. The upper half of the +kitchen door had opened. Against the evening sky +she saw the head and shoulders of a deformed body, +a goblin, in the act of lifting a parcel in over the door. +"Here's a few things for you," he said, panting, pushing +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> +the parcel along the kitchen-table. "A happy +Christmas!" And he was gone.</p> + +<p>They unpacked the parcel in the living room. It +contained everything they had asked for, and many +other things beside, which they had often wished for +but had never dreamt of ordering: a calendar with +stories, a pound of cooking chocolate, and a bottle of +old French wine. "It's just like the Lord," said Ditte +in whose mind there were still the remains of the +parson's teaching—"when it looks blackest He always +helps."</p> + +<p>"Ah, the inn-keeper's a funny fellow, there we've +been begging for things and got nothing but kicks in +return; and then he brings everything himself! He's +up to something, I'm afraid. Well, whatever it may +be—the things'll taste none the worse for it!" Lars +Peter was not in the least touched by the gift.</p> + +<p>Whatever it might be—at all events it did not end +with Christmas. They continued to get goods from +the store. The inn-keeper often crossed off things from +the list, which he considered superfluous, but the children +never returned with an empty basket. Ditte still +thought she saw the hand of Providence in this, but +Lars Peter viewed it more soberly.</p> + +<p>"The devil, he can't let us starve to death, when +we're working for him," said he. "You'll see the +rascal's found out that there's nothing more to be got +out of us, he's a sharp nose, he has."</p> + +<p>The explanation was not entirely satisfactory—even +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> +to Lars Peter himself. There was something about the +inn-keeper which could not be reckoned as money. He +was anxious to rule, and did not spare himself in any +way. He was always up and doing; he had every +family's affairs in his head, knew them better than they +did themselves, and interfered. There was both good +and bad in his knowledge; no-one knew when to expect +him.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter was to feel his fatherly care in a new +direction. One day the inn-keeper said casually: +"that's a big girl, you've got there, Lars Peter; she +ought to be able to pay for her keep soon."</p> + +<p>"She's earned her bread for many a year, and +more too!" answered Lars Peter. "I don't know +what I'd have done without her."</p> + +<p>The inn-keeper went on his way, but another time +when Lars Peter was outside chopping wood he came +again and began where he left off. "I don't like to see +children hanging about after they've been confirmed," +said he. "The sooner they get out the quicker they +learn to look after themselves."</p> + +<p>"Poor people learn that soon enough whether they +are at home or out at service," answered Lars Peter. +"We couldn't do without our little housekeeper."</p> + +<p>"They'd like to have Ditte at the hill-farm next +May—it's a good place. I've been thinking Lars Jensen's +widow could come and keep house for you; she's +a good worker and she's nothing to do. You might do +worse than marry her." +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I've a wife that's good enough for me," answered +Lars Peter shortly.</p> + +<p>"But she's in prison—and you're not obliged to stick +to her if you don't want to."</p> + +<p>"Ay, I've heard that, but Sörine'll want somewhere +to go when she comes out."</p> + +<p>"Well, that's a matter for your own conscience, Lars +Peter. But the Scriptures say nothing about sharing +your home with a murderess. What I wanted to +say was, that Lars Jensen's wife takes up a whole +house."</p> + +<p>"Then perhaps we could move down to her?" said +Lars Peter brightly. "It's not very pleasant living here +in the long run." He had given up all hope of building +himself.</p> + +<p>"If you marry her, you can consider the house your +own."</p> + +<p>"I'll stick to Sörine, I tell you," shouted Lars +Peter, thumping his ax into the block. "Now, you +know it."</p> + +<p>The inn-keeper went off, as quietly and kindly as he +had come. Jacob the fisherman stood behind the house +pointing at him with his gun; it was loaded with salt, +he was only waiting for the <i>word</i> to shoot. The inn-keeper +looked at him as he passed and said, "Well, are +you out with your gun today?" Jacob shuffled out of +the way.</p> + +<p>The inn-keeper's new order brought sorrow to the +little house. It was like losing a mother. What would +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> +they do without their house-wife, Ditte, who looked +after them all?</p> + +<p>Ditte herself took it more quietly. She had always +known that sooner or later she would have to go out +to service—she was born to it. And all through her +childhood it ran like a crimson thread; she must prepare +herself for a future master and mistress. "Eat, +child," Granny had said, "and grow big and strong and +able to make the most of yourself when you're out +amongst strangers!" And Sörine—when her turn came—had +made it a daily saying: "You'd better behave, or +no-one'll have you." The schoolmaster had interwoven +it with his teachings, and the parson involuntarily +turned to her when speaking of faithful service. She +had performed her daily tasks with the object of becoming +a clever servant—and she thought with a mixture +of fear and expectation of the great moment when +she should enter service in reality.</p> + +<p>The time was drawing near. She was sorry, and +more so for those at home. For herself—it was something +that could not be helped.</p> + +<p>She prepared everything as far as possible beforehand, +taught sister Else her work, and showed her +where everything was kept. She was a thoughtful +child, easily managed. It was more difficult with Kristian. +Ditte was troubled at the thought of what would +happen, when she was not there to keep him in order. +Every day she spoke seriously to him.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to give up your foolish ways, and running +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> +off when you're vexed with any one," said she. +"Remember, you're the eldest; it'll be your fault if +Povl and sister turn out badly! They've nobody but +you to look to now. And stop teasing old Jacob, it's +a shame to do it."</p> + +<p>Kristian promised everything—he had the best will +in the world. Only he could never remember to keep +his good resolutions.</p> + +<p>There was no need to give Povl advice, he was too +small. And good enough as he was. Dear, fat, little +fellow! It was strange to think that she was going to +leave him; several times during the day Ditte would +hug him.</p> + +<p>"If only Lars Jensen's widow'll be good to the children—and +understand how to manage them!" she said +to her father. "You see, she's never had children of +her own. It must be strange after all!"</p> + +<p>Lars Peter laughed.</p> + +<p>"It'll be all right," he thought, "she's a good +woman. But we shall miss you sorely."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you will," answered Ditte seriously. +"But she's not wasteful—that's one good thing."</p> + +<p>In the evening, when she had done her daily tasks +and the children were in bed, Ditte went through +drawers and cupboards so as to leave everything in +order for her successor. The children's clothes were +carefully examined—and the linen; clean paper was +put in the drawers and everything tidied up. Ditte +lingered over her work: it was like a silent devotion. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> +The child was bidding farewell to her dear troublesome +world, feeling grateful even for the toil and trouble +they had given her.</p> + +<p>When Lars Peter was not out fishing she would sit +beside him under the lamp with some work or other +in her hands, and they spoke seriously about the future, +giving each other good advice.</p> + +<p>"When you get amongst strangers you must listen +carefully to everything that's said to you," Lars Peter +would say. "Nothing vexes folks more than having to +say a thing twice. And then you must remember that +it doesn't matter so much how you do a thing, as to do +it as they like it. They've all got their own ways, and +it's hard to get into sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll get on all right," answered Ditte—rather +more bravely than she really felt.</p> + +<p>"Ay, you're clever enough for your age, but it's not +always that. You must always show a good-tempered +face—whether you feel it or not. It's what's expected +from folks that earn their bread."</p> + +<p>"If anything happens, I'll just give them a piece of +my mind."</p> + +<p>"Ay, but don't be too ready with your mouth! The +truth's not always wanted, and least of all from a servant: +the less they have to say the better they get on. +Just you keep quiet and think what you like—that no-one +can forbid you. And then you know, you've always +got a home here if you're turned out of your place. +You must never leave before your term is up; it's a bad +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> +thing to do—whatever you do it for. Rather bear a +little unfairness."</p> + +<p>"But can't I stand up for my rights?" Ditte did +not understand.</p> + +<p>"Ay, so you ought—but what is your right? Anyone +that's got the power gets the right on his side, +that's often proved. But you'll be all right if you're +sensible and put your back to the wall."</p> + +<hr class="w45" /> + +<p>Then came the last night. Ditte had spent the day +saying good-by in the different huts. She could have +found a better way to spend these last precious hours, +but it was a necessary evil, and if she did not do it they +would talk of it behind her back. The three little ones +followed close at her heels.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't come in," said she. "We can't all go, +there's too many, they'll think we want to be treated +to something."</p> + +<p>So they hid themselves nearby, while she was inside, +and went with her to the next house; today they <i>would</i> +be near her. And they had been so the whole day +long. The walk along the beach out to the Naze, where +they could see the hill-farm had come to nothing. It +was too late, and Ditte had to retract her promise. +It cost some tears. The farm where Ditte was going +out to service played a strong part in their imagination. +They were only comforted, when their father promised +that on Sunday morning he would take them for a row.</p> + +<p>"Out there you can see the hill-farm and all the land +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> +round about it, and maybe Ditte'll be standing there and +waving to us," he said.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it really further off than that?" asked Ditte.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's about fourteen miles, so of course you'd +have to have good eyes," answered Lars Peter, trying +to smile. He was not in the humor for fun.</p> + +<p>Now at last the three little ones were in the big bed, +sleeping peacefully, Povl at one end, sister and Kristian +at the other. There was just room for Ditte, who +had promised to sleep with them the last night. Ditte +busied herself in the living room, Lars Peter sat by the +window trying to read Sörine's last letter. It was only +a few words. Sörine was not good at writing; he read +and re-read it, in a half-whisper. There was a feeling +of oppression in the room.</p> + +<p>"When's Mother coming out?" asked Ditte, suddenly +coming towards him.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter took up a calendar. "As far as I can +make out, there's still another year," he said quietly. +"D'you want to see her too?"</p> + +<p>Ditte made no answer. Shortly afterwards she +asked him: "D'you think she's altered?"</p> + +<p>"You're thinking of the little ones, I suppose. I +think she cares a little more for them now. Want +makes a good teacher. You must go to bed now, you'll +have to be up early in the morning, and it's a long way. +Let Kristian go with you—and let him carry your +bundle as far as he goes. It'll be a tiresome way for +you. I'm sorry I can't go with you!" +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, I shall be all right," said Ditte, trying to speak +cheerfully, but her voice broke, and suddenly she threw +her arms round him.</p> + +<p>Lars Peter stayed beside her until she had fallen +asleep, then went up to bed himself. From the attic he +could hear her softly moaning in her sleep.</p> + +<p>At midnight he came downstairs again, he was in +oilskins and carried a lantern. The light shone on the +bed—all four were asleep. But Ditte was tossing restlessly, +fighting with something in her dreams. "Sister +must eat her dinner," she moaned, "it'll never do +... she'll get so thin."</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay," said Lars Peter with emotion. "Father'll +see she gets enough to eat."</p> + +<p>Carefully he covered them up, and went down to the +sea.</p> + + +<div class="trnote"> +<h2><a name="trcorrections" id="trcorrections"></a>Transcriber's corrections</h2> +<ul> +<li><a href="#TC_1">p. 31</a>: to go down to the tap-room[taproom] to tell them all about it.</li> +<li><a href="#TC_2">p. 45</a>: thoughts ran on. She and Sören had lived[live] happily</li> +<li><a href="#TC_3">p. 162</a>: trusted to her. Ay, ay, 'tis sad[said] to be like us two, no-one</li> +<li><a href="#TC_4">p. 200</a>: with you. Womenfolk[Women-folk] love a trip to town," the inn-keeper</li> +<li><a href="#TC_5">p. 213</a>: towards the inn-keeper[innkeeper], "Alma must tackle this—she's</li> +<li><a href="#TC_6">p. 239</a>: the house. When no-one appeared[apepared] in answer to his</li> +<li><a href="#TC_7">p. 256</a>: work. I'm off tomorrow[tomorrw], but you must get me another</li> +<li><a href="#TC_8">p. 260</a>: with all his[its] might. The children screamed. The horse</li> +<li><a href="#TC_9">p. 308</a>: hopping first on[one] one foot and then the other. He</li> +<li><a href="#TC_10">p. 317</a>: you a word of comfort. I've brought a bottle[botttle] of something</li> +<li><a href="#TC_11">p. 323</a>: It was a sad lookout. Ditte[Dite] had promised herself</li> +</ul> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Ditte: Girl Alive!, by Martin Andersen Nexo + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DITTE: GIRL ALIVE! *** + +***** This file should be named 31496-h.htm or 31496-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/4/9/31496/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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