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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 18:47:59 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 18:47:59 -0700 |
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diff --git a/44630-h/44630-h.htm b/44630-h/44630-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e0c3b6 --- /dev/null +++ b/44630-h/44630-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13172 @@ +<!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> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of From a Swedish Homestead, by Selma Lagerlöf, translated by Jessie Brochner. + </title> + <link rel="coverpage" href="images/front_cover.jpg" /> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3,h4 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +h1 {letter-spacing: .25em;} +h2 {font-size: 155%;} +h3 {font-size: 145%;} +h4 {font-size: 130%;} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%} + +table { + table-layout:fixed; + width: 100%; +} + .tdl +{ + text-align: left; + text-indent:-2em; + padding-left: 2em; + padding-right: 2em; + width: 85%; +} + .tdl_in +{ + text-align: left; + text-indent:-2em; + padding-left: 4em; + padding-right: 2em; + width: 85%; +} + .tdr +{ + text-align: right; + width: 15%; + vertical-align: bottom; +} + .tdl_head +{ + text-align: left; + padding-left: 2em; + padding-right: 2em; + width: 85%; +} + .tdr_head +{ + text-align: right; + font-size: smaller; + width: 15%; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.story_head {font-size: 155%; + text-align: center; + font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figcenter_crest { + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 6em; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-right: 0em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ + +.correction { + text-decoration: none; + border-bottom: thin dotted gray; +} + +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:smaller; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; } + + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + +/* Title page */ + +.title_page p { + text-align: center; +} +.story_title_page p { + text-align: center; + font-size:150%; +} +.story_title_page h2 { + visibility: hidden; + font-size:0.1%; +} + +p.title1 { font-size:2em; + letter-spacing: .3em; + margin-bottom: 0.2%;} +p.title2 { font-size:3em; + letter-spacing: .35em; + margin-top: 0em;} +p.by { font-size:1.5em; + letter-spacing: .35em; + margin-top: 1.5em;} +p.author { font-size:2em; + letter-spacing: .2em; + margin-top: 0em;} +p.trans_by { font-size:1.3em; + margin-top: 1.5em;} +p.translator { font-size:1.5em; + letter-spacing: .2em; + margin-top: 0em;} +p.publisher { font-size:1.5em; + margin-top: 0em;} +p.pub_places { font-size:1.5em;; + margin-bottom: 0.2%;} +p.story_no {margin-top: 1.5em;} +p.quote {text-align: center;} + +.dec_italic {font-style:italic;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44630 ***</div> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/front_cover.jpg" alt="Front Cover" title="Front Cover" width="381" height="597" /> +</div> +<hr class="chap" /> +<h1 title="From a Swedish Homestead, by Selma Lagerlöf, translated by Jessie Brochner"><span class="dec_italic">From a Swedish</span><br /> +<span class="dec_italic">Homestead</span></h1> +<hr class="chap" /> +<div class="title_page"> +<p class="title1"><span class="dec_italic">From a SWEDISH</span></p> + +<p class="title2"><span class="smcap">Homestead</span></p> + +<p class="by"><span class="dec_italic">By</span></p> + +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">Selma Lagerlöf</span></p> + +<p class="trans_by"><span class="dec_italic">Translated by</span></p> + +<p class="translator"><span class="smcap">Jessie Brochner</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter_crest"> + <img src="images/crest.jpg" alt="Publisher's logo" title="Publisher's logo" width="97" height="103" /> +</div> + +<p class="pub_places"><span class="smcap">Garden City</span> <span class="smcap">New York</span></p> +<p class="publisher">DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY<br /> +1916 +</p> +</div> +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="dec_italic">Copyright, 1901, by</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Doubleday, Page & Company</span> +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2><span class="dec_italic">A</span> LIST <span class="dec_italic">of the</span> STORIES</h2> + +<table summary="Contents"> +<tr><th class="tdl_head"></th><th class="tdr_head"><span class="dec_italic">Page</span></th></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Story_of_a_Country_House" title="The Story of a Country House"><span class="dec_italic">The</span> <span class="smcap">Story</span> <span class="dec_italic">of a</span> <span class="smcap">Country House</span></a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1" title="Page 1">1</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Queens_at_Kungahalla" title="Queens at Kungahälla"><span class="dec_italic">Queens at</span> <span class="smcap">Kungahälla</span></a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_135" title="Page 135">135</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl_in"><a href="#Site" title="On the Site of the Great Kungahälla"><span class="dec_italic">On the</span> <span class="smcap">Site</span> <span class="dec_italic">of the Great</span> <span class="smcap">Kungahälla</span></a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_135" title="Page 135">135</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl_in"><a href="#Forest" title="The Forest Queen"><span class="dec_italic">The Forest</span> <span class="smcap">Queen</span></a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_141" title="Page 141">141</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl_in"><a href="#Sigrid" title="Sigrid Storräde"><span class="smcap">Sigrid Storräde</span></a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_157" title="Page 157">157</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl_in"><a href="#Astrid" title="Astrid"><span class="smcap">Astrid</span></a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_172" title="Page 172">172</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Old_Agnete" title="Old Agnete"><span class="dec_italic">Old</span> <span class="smcap">Agnete</span></a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_219" title="Page 219">219</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#The_Fishermans_Ring" title="The Fisherman's Ring"><span class="dec_italic">The Fisherman's</span> <span class="smcap">Ring</span></a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_231" title="Page 231">231</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Santa_Caterina_of_Siena" title="Santa Caterina of Siena"><span class="dec_italic" lang="it" xml:lang="it">Santa</span> <span class="smcap">Caterina</span> <span class="dec_italic">of</span> <span class="smcap">Siena</span></a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_257" title="Page 257">257</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Money-Chest" title="The Empress's Money-Chest"><span class="dec_italic">The Empress's</span> <span class="smcap">Money-Chest</span></a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_277" title="Page 277">277</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Peace" title="The Peace of God"><span class="dec_italic">The</span> <span class="smcap">Peace</span> <span class="dec_italic">of</span> <span class="smcap">God</span></a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_291" title="Page 291">291</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Story" title="Story from Halstanäs"><span class="dec_italic">A</span> <span class="smcap">Story</span> <span class="dec_italic">from</span> <span class="smcap">Halstanäs</span></a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_309" title="Page 309">309</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Inscription" title="The Inscription on the Grave"><span class="dec_italic">The</span> <span class="smcap">Inscription</span> <span class="dec_italic">on the</span> <span class="smcap">Grave</span></a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_323" title="Page 323">323</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl"><a href="#Brothers" title="The Brothers"><span class="dec_italic">The</span> <span class="smcap">Brothers</span></a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_339" title="Page 339">339</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<div class="story_title_page"> +<h2 title="The Story of a Country House">I.<a name="The_Story_of_a_Country_House" id="The_Story_of_a_Country_House"><span class="dec_italic">The</span> <span class="smcap">Story</span> <span class="dec_italic">of a</span> <span class="smcap">Country House</span></a></h2> +<p><span class="dec_italic">From a Swedish</span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">Homestead</span></p> +<p class="story_no">I</p> +<p><span class="dec_italic">The</span> <span class="smcap">Story</span> <span class="dec_italic">of a</span> <span class="smcap">Country House</span></p> +</div> +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<p class="story_head"><span class="dec_italic">The</span> <span class="smcap">Story</span> <span class="dec_italic">of a</span> <span class="smcap">Country House</span></p> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>It was a beautiful autumn day towards the +end of the thirties. There was in Upsala at +that time a high, yellow, two-storied house, +which stood quite alone in a little meadow on the +outskirts of the town. It was a rather desolate +and dismal-looking house, but was rendered less +so by the Virginia-creepers which grew there in +profusion, and which had crept so high up the +yellow wall on the sunny side of the house that +they completely surrounded the three windows +on the upper story.</p> + +<p>At one of these windows a student was sitting, +drinking his morning coffee. He was a tall, +handsome fellow, of distinguished appearance. +His hair was brushed back from his forehead; it +curled prettily, and a lock was continually falling +into his eyes. He wore a loose, comfortable suit, +but looked rather smart all the same.</p> + +<p>His room was well furnished. There was a +good sofa and comfortable chairs, a large writing-table, +a capital bookcase, but hardly any +books.</p> + +<p>Before he had finished his coffee another student +entered the room. The new-comer was a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +totally different-looking man. He was a short, +broad-shouldered fellow, squarely built and +strong, ugly, with a large head, thin hair, and +coarse complexion.</p> + +<p>'Hede,' he said, 'I have come to have a serious +talk with you.'</p> + +<p>'Has anything unpleasant happened to you?'</p> + +<p>'Oh no, not to me,' the other answered; 'it is +really you it concerns.' He sat silent for a while, +and looked down. 'It is so awfully unpleasant +having to tell you.'</p> + +<p>'Leave it alone, then,' suggested Hede.</p> + +<p>He felt inclined to laugh at his friend's solemnity.</p> + +<p>'I can't leave it alone any longer,' said his +visitor. 'I ought to have spoken to you long ago, +but it is hardly my place. You understand? I +can't help thinking you will say to yourself: +"There's Gustaf Alin, son of one of our cottagers, +thinks himself such a great man now that he can +order me about."'</p> + +<p>'My dear fellow,' Hede said, 'don't imagine I +think anything of the kind. My father's father +was a peasant's son.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, but no one thinks of that now,' Alin answered. +He sat there, looking awkward and +stupid, resuming every moment more and more +of his peasant manners, as if that could help him +out of his difficulty. 'When I think of the difference +there is between your family and mine, I feel +as if I ought to keep quiet; but when I remember +that it was your father who, by his help in days +gone by, enabled me to study, then I feel that I +must <span class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: Punctuation added">speak.</span>'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + +<p>Hede looked at him with a pleasant smile.</p> + +<p>'You had better speak out and have done with +it,' he said.</p> + +<p>'The thing is,' Alin said, 'I have heard people +say that you don't do any work. They say you +have hardly opened a book during the four terms +you have been at the University. They say you +don't do anything but play on the violin the +whole day; and that I can quite believe, for you +never wanted to do anything else when you were +at school in Falu, although there you were +obliged to work.'</p> + +<p>Hede straightened himself a little in his chair. +Alin grew more and more uncomfortable, but he +continued with stubborn resolution:</p> + +<p>'I suppose you think that anyone owning an +estate like Munkhyttan ought to be able to do as +he likes—work if he likes, or leave it alone. If he +takes his exam., good; if he does not take his +exam., what does it matter? for in any case you +will never be anything but a landed proprietor +and iron-master. You will live at Munkhyttan +all your life. I understand quite well that is what +you must think.'</p> + +<p>Hede was silent, and Alin seemed to see him +surrounded by the same wall of distinction which +in Alin's eyes had always surrounded his father, +the Squire, and his mother.</p> + +<p>'But, you see, Munkhyttan is no longer what it +used to be when there was iron in the mine,' he +continued cautiously. 'The Squire knew that +very well, and that was why it was arranged before +his death that you should study. Your poor +mother knows it, too, and the whole parish knows<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +it. The only one who does not know anything +is you, Hede.'</p> + +<p>'Don't you think I know,' Hede said a little +irritably, 'that the iron-mine cannot be worked +any longer?'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes,' Alin said, 'I dare say you know that +much, but you don't know that it is all up with +the property. Think the matter over, and you +will understand that one cannot live from farming +alone at Vesterdalarne. I cannot understand +why your mother has kept it a secret from you. +But, of course, she has the sole control of the +estate, so she need not ask your advice about anything. +Everybody at home knows that she is +hard up. They say she drives about borrowing +money. I suppose she did not want to disturb +you with her troubles, but thought that she could +keep matters going until you had taken your degree. +She will not sell the estate before you have +finished, and made yourself a new home.'</p> + +<p>Hede rose, and walked once or twice up and +down the floor. Then he stopped opposite Alin.</p> + +<p>'But what on earth are you driving at, Alin? +Do you want to make me believe that we are not +rich?'</p> + +<p>'I know quite well that, until lately, you have +been considered rich people at home,' Alin said. +'But you can understand that things must come +to an end when it is a case of always spending and +never earning anything. It was a different thing +when you had the mine.'</p> + +<p>Hede sat down again.</p> + +<p>'My mother would surely have told me if there +were anything the matter,' he said. 'I am grateful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +to you, Alin; but you have allowed yourself +to be frightened by some silly stories.'</p> + +<p>'I thought that you did not know anything,' +Alin continued obstinately. 'At Munkhyttan +your mother saves and works in order to get +the money to keep you at Upsala, and to make +it cheerful and pleasant for you when you are at +home in the vacations. And in the meantime you +are here doing nothing, because you don't know +there is trouble coming. I could not stand any +longer seeing you deceiving each other. Her +ladyship thought you were studying, and you +thought she was rich. I could not let you destroy +your prospects without saying anything.'</p> + +<p>Hede sat quietly for a moment, and meditated. +Then he rose and gave Alin his hand with rather +a sad smile.</p> + +<p>'You understand that I feel you are speaking +the truth, even if I <em>will</em> not believe you? +Thanks.'</p> + +<p>Alin joyfully shook his hand.</p> + +<p>'You must know, Hede, that if you will only +work no harm is done. With your brains, you +can take your degree in three or four years.'</p> + +<p>Hede straightened himself.</p> + +<p>'Do not be uneasy, Alin,' he said; 'I am +going to work hard now.'</p> + +<p>Alin rose and went towards the door, but hesitated. +Before he reached it he turned round.</p> + +<p>'There was something else I wanted,' he said. +He again became embarrassed. 'I want you to +lend me your violin until you have commenced +reading in earnest.'</p> + +<p>'Lend you my violin?'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Yes; pack it up in a silk handkerchief, and +put it in the case, and let me take it with me, +or otherwise you will read to no purpose. You +will begin to play as soon as I am out of the +room. You are so accustomed to it now you +cannot resist if you have it here. One cannot +get over that kind of thing unless someone helps +one; it gets the mastery over one.'</p> + +<p>Hede appeared unwilling.</p> + +<p>'This is madness, you know,' he said.</p> + +<p>'No, Hede, it is not. You know you have inherited +it from the Squire. It runs in your blood. +Ever since you have been your own master here +in Upsala you have done nothing else but play. +You live here in the outskirts of the town simply +not to disturb anyone by your playing. You +cannot help yourself in this matter. Let me have +the violin.'</p> + +<p>'Well,' said Hede, 'before I could not help +playing, but now Munkhyttan is at stake; I am +more fond of my home than of my violin.'</p> + +<p>But Alin was determined, and continued to ask +for the violin.</p> + +<p>'What is the good of it?' Hede said. 'If I +want to play, I need not go many steps to borrow +another violin.'</p> + +<p>'I know that,' Alin replied, 'but I don't think +it would be so bad with another violin. It is +your old Italian violin which is the greatest danger +for you. And besides, I would suggest your +locking yourself in for the first few days—only +until you have got fairly started.'</p> + +<p>He begged and begged, but Hede resisted; he +would not stand anything so unreasonable as being +a prisoner in his own room.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<p>Alin grew crimson.</p> + +<p>'I must have the violin with me,' he said, 'or +it is no use at all.' He spoke eagerly and excitedly. +'I had not intended to say anything +about it, but I know that it concerns more than +Munkhyttan. I saw a young girl at the Promotion +Ball in the spring who, people said, was engaged +to you. I don't dance, you know, but I +liked to watch her when she was dancing, looking +radiant like one of the lilies of the field. And +when I heard that she was engaged to you, I felt +sorry for her.'</p> + +<p>'Why?'</p> + +<p>'Because I knew that you would never succeed +if you continued as you had begun. And +then I swore that she should not have to spend +her whole life waiting for one who never came. +She should not sit and wither whilst waiting for +you. I did not want to meet her in a few years +with sharpened features and deep wrinkles round +her mouth——'</p> + +<p>He stopped suddenly; Hede's glance had +rested so searchingly upon him.</p> + +<p>But Gunnar Hede had already understood +that Alin was in love with his <em><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">fiancée</span></em>. It moved +him deeply that Alin under these circumstances +tried to save him, and, influenced by this feeling, +he yielded and gave him the violin.</p> + +<p>When Alin had gone, Hede read desperately +for a whole hour, but then he threw away his +book.</p> + +<p>It was not of much good his reading. It would +be three or four years before he could be finished, +and who could guarantee that the estate would +not be sold in the meantime?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> + +<p>He felt almost with terror how deeply he loved +the old home. It was like witchery. Every +room, every tree, stood clearly before him. He +felt he could not part with any of it if he were +to be happy. And he was to sit quietly with his +books whilst all this was about to pass away from +him.</p> + +<p>He became more and more restless; he felt +the blood beating in his temples as if in a fever. +And then he grew quite beside himself because +he could not take his violin and play himself calm +again.</p> + +<p>'My God!' he said, 'Alin will drive me mad. +First to tell me all this, and then to take away +my violin! A man like I must feel the bow between +his fingers in sorrow and in joy. I must +do something; I must get money, but I have not +an idea in my head. I cannot think without my +violin.'</p> + +<p>He could not endure the feeling of being +locked in. He was so angry with Alin, who had +thought of this absurd plan, that he was afraid +he might strike him the next time he came.</p> + +<p>Of course he would have played, if he had had +the violin, for that was just what he needed. His +blood rushed so wildly, that he was nearly going +out of his mind.</p> + +<p>Just as Hede was longing most for his violin +a wandering musician began to play outside. It +was an old blind man. He played out of tune +and without expression, but Hede was so overcome +by hearing a violin just at this moment +that he listened with tears in his eyes and with +his hands folded.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<p>The next moment he flung open the window +and climbed to the ground by the help of the +creepers. He had no compunction at leaving +his work. He thought the violin had simply +come to comfort him in his misfortune.</p> + +<p>Hede had probably never before begged so +humbly for anything as he did now, when he +asked the old blind man to lend him his violin. +He stood the whole time with his cap in his hand, +although the old man was blind.</p> + +<p>The musician did not seem to understand what +he wanted. He turned to the young girl who +was leading him. Hede bowed to the poor girl +and repeated his request. She looked at him, as +if she must have eyes for them both. The glance +from her big eyes was so steady that Hede +thought he could feel where it struck him. It +began with his collar, and it noticed that the frills +of his shirt were well starched, then it saw that +his coat was brushed, next that his boots were +polished.</p> + +<p>Hede had never before been subjected to such +close scrutiny. He saw clearly that he would not +pass muster before those eyes.</p> + +<p>But it was not so, all the same. The young +girl had a strange way of smiling. Her face +was so serious, that one had the impression when +she smiled that it was the first and only time she +had ever looked happy; and now one of these +rare smiles passed over her lips. She took the +violin from the old man and handed it to +Hede.</p> + +<p>'Play the waltz from "Freischütz," then,' she +said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>Hede thought it was strange that he should +have to play a waltz just at that moment, but, as +a matter of fact, it was all the same to him what +he played, if he could only have a bow in his +hand. That was all he wanted. The violin at +once began to comfort him; it spoke to him in +faint, cracked tones.</p> + +<p>'I am only a poor man's violin,' it said; 'but +such as I am, I am a comfort and help to a poor +blind man. I am the light and the colour and +the brightness in his life. It is I who must comfort +him in his poverty and old age and blindness.'</p> + +<p>Hede felt that the terrible depression that had +cowed his hopes began to give way.</p> + +<p>'You are young and strong,' the violin said to +him. 'You can fight and strive; you can hold +fast that which tries to escape you. Why are you +downcast and without courage?'</p> + +<p>Hede had played with lowered eyes; now he +threw back his head and looked at those who +stood around him. There was quite a crowd of +children and people from the street, who had +come into the yard to listen to the music. It appeared, +however, that they had not come solely +for the sake of the music. The blind man and +his companion were not the only ones in the +troupe.</p> + +<p>Opposite Hede stood a figure in tights and +spangles, and with bare arms crossed over his +chest. He looked old and worn, but Hede +could not help thinking that he looked a devil of +a fellow with his high chest and long moustaches. +And beside him stood his wife, little and fat, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +not so very young either, but beaming with joy +over her spangles and flowing gauze skirts.</p> + +<p>During the first bars of the music they stood +still and counted, then a gracious smile passed +over their faces, and they took each other's +hands and began to dance on a small carpet. +And Hede saw that during all the equilibristic +tricks they now performed the woman stood almost +still, whilst her husband did all the work. +He sprang over her, and twirled round her, and +vaulted over her. The woman scarcely did +anything else but kiss her hand to the spectators.</p> + +<p>But Hede did not really take much notice of +them. His bow began to fly over the strings. +It told him that there was happiness in fighting +and overcoming. It almost deemed him happy +because everything was at stake for him. Hede +stood there, playing courage and hope into himself, +and did not think of the old tight-rope +dancers.</p> + +<p>But suddenly he saw that they grew restless. +They no longer smiled; they left off kissing their +hands to the spectators; the acrobat made mistakes, +and his wife began to sway to and fro in +waltz time.</p> + +<p>Hede played more and more eagerly. He left +off 'Freischütz' and rushed into an old 'Nixie +Polka,' one which generally sent all the people +mad when played at the peasant festivals.</p> + +<p>The old tight-rope dancers quite lost their +heads. They stood in breathless astonishment, +and at last they could resist no longer. They +sprang into each other's arms, and then they began +to dance a waltz in the middle of the carpet.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<p>How they danced! dear me, how they danced! +They took small, tripping steps, and whirled +round in a small circle; they hardly went outside +the carpet, and their faces beamed with joy +and delight. There was the happiness of youth +and the rapture of love over these two old people.</p> + +<p>The whole crowd was jubilant at seeing them +dance. The serious little companion of the blind +man smiled all over her face, and Hede grew +much excited.</p> + +<p>Just fancy what an effect his violin could have! +It made people quite forget themselves. It was +a great power to have at his disposal. Any moment +he liked he could take possession of his +kingdom. Only a couple of years' study abroad +with a great master, and he could go all over the +world, and by his playing earn riches and honour +and fame.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Hede that these acrobats must +have come to tell him this. That was the road +he should follow; it lay before him clear and +smooth. He said to himself: 'I will—I <em>will</em> become +a musician! I <em>must</em> be one! This is better +than studying. I can charm my fellow-men with +my violin; I can become rich.'</p> + +<p>Hede stopped playing. The acrobats at once +came up and complimented him. The man said +his name was Blomgren. That was his real +name; he had other names when he performed. +He and his wife were old circus people. Mrs. +Blomgren in former days had been called Miss +Viola, and had performed on horseback; and +although they had now left the circus, they were +still true artists—artists body and soul. That he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +had probably already noticed; that was why they +could not resist his violin.</p> + +<p>Hede walked about with the acrobats for a +couple of hours. He could not part with the +violin, and the old artists' enthusiasm for their +profession appealed to him. He was simply testing +himself. 'I want to find out whether there +is the proper stuff for an artist in me. I want to +see if I can call forth enthusiasm. I want to +see whether I can make children and idlers follow +me from house to house.'</p> + +<p>On their way from house to house Mr. Blomgren +threw an old threadbare mantle around him, +and Mrs. Blomgren enveloped herself in a brown +cloak. Thus arrayed, they walked at Hede's side +and talked.</p> + +<p>Mr. Blomgren would not speak of all the +honour he and Mrs. Blomgren had received during +the time they had performed in a real circus; +but the <em><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">directeur</span></em> had given Mrs. Blomgren her +dismissal under the pretence that she was getting +too stout. Mr. Blomgren had not been dismissed: +he had himself resigned his position. +Surely no one could think that Mr. Blomgren +would remain with a <em><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">directeur</span></em> who had dismissed +his wife!</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blomgren loved her art, and for her sake +Mr. Blomgren had made up his mind to live as a +free artist, so that she could still continue to perform. +During the winter, when it was too cold +to give performances in the street, they performed +in a tent. They had a very comprehensive +repertoire. They gave pantomimes, and +were jugglers and conjurers.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<p>The circus had cast them off, but Art had not, +said Mr. Blomgren. They served Art always. +It was well worth being faithful to Art, even unto +death. Always artists—always. That was Mr. +Blomgren's opinion, and it was also Mrs. Blomgren's.</p> + +<p>Hede walked quietly and listened. His +thoughts flew restlessly from plan to plan. Sometimes +events happen which become like symbols, +like signs, which one must obey. There must be +some meaning in what had now happened to +him. If he could only understand it rightly, it +might help him towards arriving at a wise resolution.</p> + +<p>Mr. Blomgren asked the student to notice the +young girl who was leading the blind man. Had +he ever before seen such eyes? Did he not think +that such eyes must mean something? Could +one have those eyes without being intended for +something great?</p> + +<p>Hede turned round and looked at the little pale +girl. Yes, she had eyes like stars, set in a sad +and rather thin face.</p> + +<p>'Our Lord knows always what He is about,' +said Mrs. Blomgren; 'and I also believe that He +has some reason for letting such an artist as Mr. +Blomgren perform in the street. But what was +He thinking about when He gave that girl those +eyes and that smile?'</p> + +<p>'I will tell you something,' said Mr. Blomgren; +'she has not the slightest talent for Art. +And with those eyes!'</p> + +<p>Hede had a suspicion that they were not talking +to him, but simply for the benefit of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +young girl. She was walking just behind them, +and could hear every word.</p> + +<p>'She is not more than thirteen years old, and +not by any means too old to learn something; +but, impossible—impossible, without the slightest +talent! If one does not want to waste one's +time, sir, teach her to sew, but not to stand on +her head. Her smile makes people quite mad +about her,' Mr. Blomgren continued. 'Simply +on account of her smile she has had many offers +from families wishful to adopt her. She could +grow up in a well-to-do home if she would only +leave her grandfather. But what does she want +with a smile that makes people mad about her, +when she will never appear either on horseback +or on a trapeze?'</p> + +<p>'We know other artists,' said Mrs. Blomgren, +'who pick up children in the street and train them +for the profession when they cannot perform any +longer themselves. There is more than one who +has been lucky enough to create a star and obtain +immense salaries for her. But Mr. Blomgren +and I have never thought of the money; we have +only thought of some day seeing Ingrid flying +through a hoop whilst the whole circus resounded +with applause. For us it would have +been as if we were beginning life over again.'</p> + +<p>'Why do we keep her grandfather?' said Mr. +Blomgren. 'Is he an artist fit for us? We +could, no doubt, have got a previous member of +a Hofkapell if we had wished. But we love that +child; we cannot do without her; we keep the +old man for her sake.'</p> + +<p>'Is it not naughty of her that she will not allow +us to make an artist of her?' they said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + +<p>Hede turned round. The little girl's face wore +an expression of suffering and patience. He +could see that she knew that anyone who could +not dance on the tight-rope was a stupid and +contemptible person.</p> + +<p>At the same moment they came to another +house, but before they began their performance +Hede sat down on an overturned wheelbarrow +and began to preach. He defended the poor +little girl. He reproached Mr. and Mrs. Blomgren +for wishing to hand her over to the great, +cruel public, who would love and applaud her +for a time, but when she grew old and worn out, +they would let her trudge along the streets in +rain and cold. No; he or she was artist enough, +who made a fellow-being happy. Ingrid should +only have eyes and smiles for one, should keep +them for one only; and this one should never +leave her, but give her a safe home as long as he +lived.</p> + +<p>Tears came into Hede's eyes whilst he spoke. +He spoke more to himself than to the others. +He felt it suddenly as something terrible to be +thrust out into the world, to be severed from the +quiet home-life. He saw that the great, star-like +eyes of the girl began to sparkle. It seemed as +if she had understood every single word. It +seemed as if she again felt the right to live.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Blomgren and his wife had become +very serious. They pressed Hede's hand and +promised him that they would never again try +and persuade the little girl to become an artist. +She should be allowed to lead the life she wished. +He had touched them. They were artists—artists<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +body and soul; they understood what he +meant when he spoke of love and faithfulness.</p> + +<p>Then Hede parted from them and went home. +He no longer tried to find any secret meaning +in his adventure. After all, it had meant nothing +more than that he should save this poor sorrowful +child from always grieving over her incapacity.</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>Munkhyttan, the home of Gunnar Hede, was +situated in a poor parish in the forests of Vesterdalarne. +It was a large, thinly-populated parish, +with which Nature had dealt very stingily. There +were stony, forest-covered hills, and many +small lakes. The people could not possibly +have earned a livelihood there had they not had +the right to travel about the country as pedlars. +But to make up for it, the whole of this poor +district was full of old tales of how poor peasant +lads and lassies had gone into the world with a +pack of goods on their backs, to return in gilded +coaches, with the boxes under the seats filled +with money.</p> + +<p>One of the very best stories was about Hede's +grandfather. He was the son of a poor musician, +and had grown up with his violin in his +hand, and when he was seventeen years old he +had gone out into the world with his pack on +his back. But wherever he went his violin had +helped him in his business. He had by turns +gathered people together by his music and sold +them silk handkerchiefs, combs, and pins. All<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +his trading had been brought about with music +and merriment, and things had gone so well with +him that he had at last been able to buy Munkhyttan, +with its mine and ironworks, from the +poverty-stricken Baron who then owned the +property. Then he became the Squire, and the +pretty daughter of the Baron became his wife.</p> + +<p>From that time the old family, as they were +always called, had thought of nothing else but +beautifying the place. They removed the main +building on to the beautiful island which lay on +the edge of a small lake, round which lay their +fields and their mines. The upper story had +been added in their time, for they wanted to have +plenty of room for their numerous guests; and +they had also added the two large flights of +steps outside. They had planted ornamental +trees all over the fir-covered island. They had +made small winding pathways in the stony soil, +and on the most beautiful spots they had built +small pavilions, hanging like large birds'-nests +over the lake. The beautiful French roses that +grew on the terrace, the Dutch furniture, the +Italian violin, had all been brought to the house +by them. And it was they who had built the +wall protecting the orchard from the north wind, +and the conservatory.</p> + +<p>The old family were merry, kind-hearted, old-fashioned +people. The Squire's wife certainly +liked to be a little aristocratic; but that was not at +all in the old Squire's line. In the midst of all +the luxury which surrounded him he never +forgot what he had been, and in the room where +he transacted his business, and where people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +came and went, the pack and the red-painted, +home-made violin were hung right above the +old man's desk.</p> + +<p>Even after his death the pack and the violin +remained in the same place. And every time +the old man's son and grandson saw them their +hearts swelled with gratitude. It was these two +poor implements that had created Munkhyttan, +and Munkhyttan was the best thing in the world.</p> + +<p>Whatever the reason might be—and it was +probably because it seemed natural to the place +that one lived a good, genial life there, free from +trouble—Hede's family clung to the place with +greater love than was good for it. And more +especially Gunnar Hede was so strongly attached +to it that people said that it was incorrect +to say of him that he owned an estate. +On the contrary, it was an old estate in Vesterdalarne +that owned Gunnar Hede.</p> + +<p>If he had not made himself a slave of an old +rambling manor-house and some acres of land +and forest, and some stunted apple-trees, he +would probably have continued his studies, or, +better still, gone abroad to study music, which, +after all, was no doubt his proper vocation in +this world. But when he returned from Upsala, +and it became clear to him that they really would +have to sell the estate if he could not soon earn +a lot of money, he decided upon giving up all +his other plans, and made up his mind to go +out into the world as a pedlar, as his grandfather +before him had done.</p> + +<p>His mother and his <em><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">fiancée</span></em> besought him +rather to sell the place than to sacrifice himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +for it in this manner, but he was not to be moved. +He put on peasant's attire, bought goods, and +began to travel about the country as a pedlar. +He thought that if he only traded a couple of +years he could earn enough to pay the debt and +save the estate.</p> + +<p>And as far as the latter was concerned he +was successful enough. But he brought upon +himself a terrible misfortune.</p> + +<p>When he had walked about with his pack for +a year or so he thought that he would try and +earn a large sum of money at one stroke. He +went far north and bought a large flock of +goats, about a couple of hundred. And he +and a comrade intended to drive them down to +a large fair in Vermland, where goats cost twice +as much as in the north. If he succeeded in +selling all his goats, he would do a very good +business.</p> + +<p>It was in the beginning of November, and +there had not yet been any snow, when Hede +and his comrade set out with their goats. The +first day everything went well with them, but +the second day, when they came to the great +Fifty-Mile Forest, it began to snow. Much +snow fell, and it stormed and blew severely. It +was not long before it became difficult for the +animals to make their way through the snow. +Goats are certainly both plucky and hardy animals, +and the herd struggled on for a considerable +time; but the snow-storm lasted two days +and two nights, and it was terribly cold.</p> + +<p>Hede did all he could to save the animals, +but after the snow began to fall he could get<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +them neither food nor water. And when they +had worked their way through deep snow for +a whole day they became very footsore. Their +feet hurt them, and they would not go any +longer. The first goat that threw itself down +by the roadside and would not get up again +and follow the herd Hede lifted on to his +shoulder so as not to leave it behind. But when +another and again another lay down he could +not carry them. There was nothing to do but +to look the other way and go on.</p> + +<p>Do you know what the Fifty-Mile Forest is +like? Not a farmhouse, not a cottage, mile after +mile, only forest; tall-stemmed fir-trees, with +bark as hard as wood, and high branches; no +young trees with soft bark and soft twigs that +the animals could eat. If there had been no +snow, they could have got through the forest +in a couple of days; now they could not get +through it at all. All the goats were left there, +and the men too nearly perished. They did +not meet a single human being the whole time. +No one helped them.</p> + +<p>Hede tried to throw the snow to one side +so that the goats could eat the moss; but the +snow fell so thickly, and the moss was frozen +fast to the ground. And how could he get food +for two hundred animals in this way?</p> + +<p>He bore it bravely until the goats began to +moan. The first day they were a lively, rather +noisy herd. He had had hard work to make +them all keep together, and prevent them from +butting each other to death. But when they +seemed to understand that they could not be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +saved their nature changed, and they completely +lost their courage. They all began to bleat and +moan, not faintly and peevishly, as goats usually +do, but loudly, louder and louder as the danger +increased. And when Hede heard their cries he +felt quite desperate.</p> + +<p>They were in the midst of the wild, desolate +forest; there was no help whatever obtainable. +Goat after goat dropped down by the roadside. +The snow gathered round them and covered +them. When Hede looked back at this row of +drifts by the wayside, each hiding the body of +an animal, of which one could still see the projecting +horns and the hoofs, then his brain began +to give way.</p> + +<p>He rushed at the animals, which allowed +themselves to be covered by the snow, swung +his whip over them, and hit them. It was the +only way to save them, but they did not stir. +He took them by the horns and dragged them +along. They allowed themselves to be dragged, +but they did not move a foot themselves. When +he let go his hold of their horns, they licked +his hands, as if beseeching him to help them. +As soon as he went up to them they licked his +hands.</p> + +<p>All this had such a strong effect upon Hede +that he felt he was on the point of going out +of his mind.</p> + +<p>It is not certain, however, that things would +have gone so badly with him had he not, after +it was all over in the forest, gone to see one +whom he loved dearly. It was not his mother, +but his sweetheart. He thought himself that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +he had gone there because he ought to tell +her at once that he had lost so much money +that he would not be able to marry for many +years. But no doubt he went to see her solely +to hear her say that she loved him quite as +much in spite of his misfortunes. He thought +that she could drive away the memory of the +Fifty-Mile Forest.</p> + +<p>She could, perhaps, have done this, but she +would not. She was already displeased because +Hede went about with a pack and looked like +a peasant; she thought that for that reason +alone it was difficult to love him as much as +before. Now, when he told her that he must +still go on doing this for many years, she said +that she could no longer wait for him. This +last blow was too much for Hede; his mind +gave way.</p> + +<p>He did not grow quite mad, however; he retained +so much of his senses that he could attend +to his business. He even did better than others, +for it amused people to make fun of him; he +was always welcome at the peasants' houses. +People plagued and teased him, but that was +in a way good for him, as he was so anxious +to become rich. And in the course of a few +years he had earned enough to pay all his debts, +and he could have lived free from worry on his +estate. But this he did not understand; he +went about half-witted and silly from farm to +farm, and he had no longer any idea to what +class of people he really belonged.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>Raglanda was the name of a parish in the +north of East Vermland, near the borders of +Dalarne, where the Dean had a large house, +but the pastor only a small and poor one. But +poor as they were at the small parsonage, they +had been charitable enough to adopt a poor +girl. She was a little girl, Ingrid by name, +and she had come to the parsonage when she +was thirteen years old.</p> + +<p>The pastor had accidentally seen her at a +fair, where she sat crying outside the tent of +some acrobats. He had stopped and asked her +why she was crying, and she had told him that +her blind grandfather was dead, and that she +had no relatives left. She now travelled with +a couple of acrobats, and they were good to +her, but she cried because she was so stupid +that she could never learn to dance on the tight-rope +and help to earn any money.</p> + +<p>There was a sorrowful grace over the child +which touched the pastor's heart. He said at +once to himself that he could not allow such a +little creature to go to the bad amongst these +wandering tramps. He went into the tent, where +he saw Mr. and Mrs. Blomgren, and offered to +take the child home with him. The old acrobats +began to weep, and said that although the girl +was entirely unfitted for the profession, they +would so very much like to keep her; but at +the same time they thought she would be happier +in a real home with people who lived in the same +place all the year round, and therefore they were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +willing to give her up to the pastor if he would +only promise them that she should be like one +of his own children.</p> + +<p>This he had promised, and from that time the +young girl had lived at the parsonage. She was +a quiet, gentle child, full of love and tender care +for those around her. At first her adopted +parents loved her very dearly, but as she grew +older she developed a strong inclination to lose +herself in dreams and fancies. She lived in a +world of visions, and in the middle of the day +she could let her work fall and be lost in dreams. +But the pastor's wife, who was a clever and +hard-working woman, did not approve of this. +She found fault with the young girl for being +lazy and slow, and tormented her by her severity +so that she became timid and unhappy.</p> + +<p>When she had completed her nineteenth year, +she fell dangerously ill. They did not quite +know what was the matter with her, for this +happened long ago, when there was no doctor +at Raglanda, but the girl was very ill. They +soon saw she was so ill that she could not live.</p> + +<p>She herself did nothing but pray to God that +He would take her away from this world. She +would so like to die, she said.</p> + +<p>Then it seemed as if our Lord would try +whether she was in earnest. One night she felt +that she grew stiff and cold all over her body, +and a heavy lethargy fell upon her. 'I think +this must be death,' she said to herself.</p> + +<p>But the strange thing was that she did not +quite lose consciousness. She knew that she lay +as if she were dead, knew that they wrapped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +her in her shroud and laid her in her coffin, +but she felt no fear of being buried, although +she was still alive. She had but the one thought +that she was happy because she was about to +die and leave this troublesome life.</p> + +<p>The only thing she was uneasy about was +lest they should discover that she was not really +dead and would not bury her. Life must have +been very bitter to her, inasmuch as she felt +no fear of death whatever.</p> + +<p>But no one discovered that she was living. +She was conveyed to the church, carried to the +churchyard, and lowered into the grave.</p> + +<p>The grave, however, was not filled in; she +had been buried before the service on Sunday +morning, as was the custom at Raglanda. The +mourners had gone into church after the funeral, +and the coffin was left in the open grave; but +as soon as the service was over they would +come back, and help the grave-digger to fill +in the grave.</p> + +<p>The young girl knew everything that happened, +but felt no fear. She had not been able +to make the slightest movement to show that +she was alive, even if she had wanted to; but +even if she had been able to move, she would +not have done so; the whole time she was happy +because she was as good as dead.</p> + +<p>But, on the other hand, one could hardly say +that she was alive. She had neither the use of +her mind nor of her senses. It was only that +part of the soul which dreams dreams during +the night that was still living within her.</p> + +<p>She could not even think enough to realize<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +how terrible it would be for her to awake when +the grave was filled in. She had no more power +over her mind than has one who dreams.</p> + +<p>'I should like to know,' she thought, 'if there +is anything in the whole wide world that could +make me wish to live.'</p> + +<p>As soon as that thought rushed through her +it seemed to her as if the lid of the coffin, and +the handkerchief which had been placed over +her face, became transparent, and she saw before +her riches and beautiful raiment, and lovely +gardens with delicious fruits.</p> + +<p>'No, I do not care for any of these things,' +she said, and she closed her eyes for their +glories.</p> + +<p>When she again looked up they had disappeared, +but instead she saw quite distinctly a +little angel of God sitting on the edge of the +grave.</p> + +<p>'Good-morning, thou little angel of God,' she +said to him.</p> + +<p>'Good-morning, Ingrid,' the angel said. +'Whilst thou art lying here doing nothing, I +would like to speak a little with thee about days +gone by.'</p> + +<p>Ingrid heard distinctly every word the angel +said; but his voice was not like anything she +had ever heard before. It was more like a +stringed instrument; it was not like singing, +but like the tones of a violin or the clang of +a harp.</p> + +<p>'Ingrid,' the angel said, 'dost thou remember, +whilst thy grandfather was still living, that thou +once met a young student, who went with thee<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +from house to house playing the whole day on +thy grandfather's violin?'</p> + +<p>The girl's face was lighted by a smile.</p> + +<p>'Dost thou think I have forgotten this?' she +said. 'Ever since that time no day has passed +when I have not thought of him.'</p> + +<p>'And no night when thou hast not dreamt +of him?'</p> + +<p>'No, not a night when I have not dreamt of +him.'</p> + +<p>'And thou wilt die, although thou rememberest +him so well,' said the angel. 'Then thou +wilt never be able to see him again.'</p> + +<p>When he said this it was as if the dead girl +felt all the happiness of love, but even that could +not tempt her.</p> + +<p>'No, no,' she said; 'I am afraid to live; I +would rather die.'</p> + +<p>Then the angel waved his hand, and Ingrid +saw before her a wide waste of desert. There +were no trees, and the desert was barren and +dry and hot, and extended in all directions +without any limits. In the sand there lay, here +and there, objects which at the first glance +looked like pieces of rock, but when she examined +them more closely, she saw they were +the immense living animals of fairy tales, with +huge claws and great jaws, with sharp teeth; +they lay in the sand, watching for prey. And +between these terrible animals the student came +walking along. He went quite fearlessly, without +suspecting that the figures around him were +living.</p> + +<p>'But warn him! do warn him!' Ingrid said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +to the angel in unspeakable fear. 'Tell him that +they are living, and that he must take care.'</p> + +<p>'I am not allowed to speak to him,' said the +angel with his clear voice; 'thou must thyself +warn him.'</p> + +<p>The apparently dead girl felt with horror that +she lay powerless, and could not rush to save +the student. She made one futile effort after +the other to raise herself, but the impotence of +death bound her. But then at last, at last, she +felt her heart begin to beat, the blood rushed +through her veins, the stiffness of death was +loosened in her body. She arose and hastened +towards him.</p> + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>It is quite certain the sun loves the open +places outside the small village churches. Has +no one ever noticed that one never sees so +much sunshine as during the morning service +outside a small, whitewashed church? Nowhere +else does one see such radiant streams of light, +nowhere else is the air so devoutly quiet. The +sun simply keeps watch that no one remains +on the church hill gossiping. It wants them all +to sit quietly in church and listen to the sermon—that +is why it sends such a wealth of sunny +rays on to the ground outside the church wall.</p> + +<p>Perhaps one must not take it for granted +that the sun keeps watch outside the small +churches every Sunday; but so much is certain, +that the morning Ingrid had been placed +in the grave in the churchyard at Raglanda,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +it spread a burning heat over the open space +outside the church. Even the flint stones +looked as if they might take fire as they lay +and sparkled in the wheel-ruts. The short, +down-trodden grass curled, so that it looked +like dry moss, whilst the yellow dandelions +which grew amongst the grass spread themselves +out on their long stems, so that they +became as large as asters.</p> + +<p>A man from Dalarne came wandering along +the road—one of those men who go about selling +knives and scissors. He was clad in a +long, white sheep-skin coat, and on his back +he had a large black leather pack. He had +been walking with this burden for several hours +without finding it too hot, but when he had +left the highroad, and came to the open place +outside the church, he stopped and took off +his hat in order to dry the perspiration from +his forehead.</p> + +<p>As the man stood there bare-headed, he +looked both handsome and clever. His forehead +was high and white, with a deep wrinkle +between the eyebrows; the mouth was well +formed, with thin lips. His hair was parted +in the middle; it was cut short at the back, +but hung over his ears, and was inclined to +curl. He was tall, and strongly, but not coarsely, +built; in every respect well proportioned. But +what was wrong about him was his glance, +which was unsteady, and the pupils of his eyes +rolled restlessly, and were drawn far into the +sockets, as if to hide themselves. There was +something drawn about the mouth, something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +dull and heavy, which did not seem to belong +to the face.</p> + +<p>He could not be quite right, either, or he +would not have dragged that heavy pack about +on a Sunday. If he had been quite in his +senses, he would have known that it was of +no use, as he could not sell anything in any +case. None of the other men from Dalarne +who walked about from village to village bent +their backs under this burden on a Sunday, +but they went to the house of God free and +erect as other men.</p> + +<p>But this poor fellow probably did not know +it was a holy day until he stood in the sunshine +outside the church and heard the singing. +He was sensible enough at once to understand +that he could not do any business, and +then his brain began to work as to how he +should spend the day.</p> + +<p>He stood for a long time and stared in front +of him. When everything went its usual course, +he had no difficulty in managing. He was not +so bad but that he could go from farm to farm +all through the week and attend to his business, +but he never could get accustomed to +the Sunday—that always came upon him as a +great, unexpected trouble.</p> + +<p>His eyes became quite fixed, and the muscles +of his forehead swelled.</p> + +<p>The first thought that took shape in his brain +was that he should go into the church and +listen to the singing, but he would not accept +this suggestion. He was very fond of singing, +but he dared not go into the church. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +was not afraid of human beings, but in some +churches there were such quaint, uncanny pictures, +which represented creatures of which he +would rather not think.</p> + +<p>At last his brain worked round to the thought +that, as this was a church, there would probably +also be a churchyard, and when he could +take refuge in a churchyard all was well. One +could not offer him anything better. If on his +wanderings he saw a churchyard, he always went +in and sat there awhile, even if it were in the +middle of a workaday week.</p> + +<p>Now that he wanted to go to the churchyard +a new difficulty suddenly arose. The +burial-place at Raglanda does not lie quite +near the church, which is built on a hill, but +on the other side of the road; and he could +not get to the entrance of the churchyard without +passing along the road where the horses +of the church-goers were standing tied up.</p> + +<p>All the horses stood with their heads deep +in bundles of hay and nosebags, chewing. There +was no question of their being able to do the +man any harm, but he had his own ideas as +to the danger of going past such a long row of +animals.</p> + +<p>Two or three times he made an attempt, but +his courage failed him, so that he was obliged +to turn back. He was not afraid that the +horses would bite or kick. It was quite enough +for him that they were so near that they could +see him. It was quite enough that they could +shake their bridles and scrape the earth with +their hoofs.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<p>At last a moment came when all the horses +were looking down, and seemed to be eating +for a wager. Then he began to make his way +between them. He held his sheepskin cloak +tightly around him so that it should not flap +and betray him, and he went on tiptoe as lightly +as he could. When a horse raised its eyelid +and looked at him, he at once stopped and +curtsied. He wanted to be polite in this great +danger, but surely animals were amenable to +reason, and could understand that he could not +bow when he had a pack full of hardware upon +his back; he could only curtsy.</p> + +<p>He sighed deeply, for in this world it was +a sad and troublesome thing to be so afraid of +all four-footed animals as he was. He was +really not afraid of any other animals than +goats, and he would not have been at all afraid +of horses and dogs and cats had he only been +quite sure that they were not a kind of transformed +goats. But he never was quite sure of +that, so as a matter of fact it was just as bad +for him as if he had been afraid of all kinds of +four-footed animals.</p> + +<p>It was no use his thinking of how strong he +was, and that these small peasant horses never +did any harm to anyone: he who has become +possessed of such fears cannot reason with himself. +Fear is a heavy burden, and it is hard for +him who must always carry it.</p> + +<p>It was strange that he managed to get past +all the horses. The last few steps he took in +two long jumps, and when he got into the +churchyard he closed the gate after him, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +began to threaten the horses with his clenched +fist.</p> + +<p>'You wretched, miserable, accursed goats!'</p> + +<p>He did that to all animals. He could not +help calling them goats, and that was very stupid +of him, for it had procured him a name which +he did not like. Everyone who met him called +him the 'Goat.' But he would not own to this +name. He wanted to be called by his proper +name, but apparently no one knew his real name +in that district.</p> + +<p>He stood a little while at the gate, rejoicing +at having escaped from the horses, but he soon +went further into the churchyard. At every +cross and every stone he stopped and curtsied, +but this was not from fear: this was simply +from joy at seeing these dear old friends. All +at once he began to look quite gentle and mild. +They were exactly the same crosses and stones +he had so often seen before. They looked just +as usual. How well he knew them again! He +must say 'Good-morning' to them.</p> + +<p>How nice it was in the churchyard! There +were no animals about there, and there were +no people to make fun of him. It was best +there, when it was quite quiet as now; but +even if there were people, they did not disturb +him. He certainly knew many pretty meadows +and woods which he liked still better, but there +he was never left in peace. They could not by +any means compare with the churchyard. And +the churchyard was better than the forest, for +in the forest the loneliness was so great that +he was frightened by it. Here it was quiet, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +in the depths of the forest; but he was not +without company. Here people were sleeping +under every stone and every mound; just the +company he wanted in order not to feel lonely +and strange.</p> + +<p>He went straight to the open grave. He +went there partly because there were some +shady trees, and partly because he wanted company. +He thought, perhaps, that the dead who +had so recently been laid in the grave might +be a better protection against his loneliness than +those who had passed away long ago.</p> + +<p>He bent his knees, with his back to the great +mound of earth at the edge of the grave, and +succeeded in pushing the pack upwards, so that +it stood firmly on the mound, and he then +loosened the heavy straps that fastened it. It +was a great day—a holiday. He also took off +his coat. He sat down on the grass with a +feeling of great pleasure, so close to the grave +that his long legs, with the stockings tied under +the knee, and the heavy laced shoes dangled over +the edge of the grave.</p> + +<p>For a while he sat still, with his eyes steadily +fixed upon the coffin. When one was possessed +by such fear as he was, one could not +be too careful. But the coffin did not move +in the least; it was impossible to suspect it of +containing any snare.</p> + +<p>He was no sooner certain of this than he put +his hand into a side-pocket of the pack and took +out a violin and bow, and at the same time he +nodded to the dead in the grave. As he was +so quiet he should hear something pretty.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p>This was something very unusual for him. +There were not many who were allowed to hear +him play. No one was ever allowed to hear +him play at the farms, where they set the dogs +at him and called him the 'Goat'; but sometimes +he would play in a house where they +spoke softly, and went about quietly, and did +not ask him if he wanted to buy any goat-skins. +At such places he took out his violin +and treated them to some music; and this was +a great favour—the greatest he could bestow +upon anybody.</p> + +<p>As he sat there and played at the edge of +the grave it did not sound amiss; he did not +play a wrong note, and he played so softly and +gently that it could hardly be heard at the next +grave. The strange thing about it was that it +was not the man who could play, but it was +his violin that could remember some small +melodies. They came forth from the violin as +soon as he let the bow glide over it. It might +not, perhaps, have meant so much to others, +but for him, who could not remember a single +tune, it was the most precious gift of all to possess +such a violin that could play by itself.</p> + +<p>Whilst he played he sat with a beaming +smile on his face. It was the violin that +spoke and spoke; he only listened. Was it not +strange that one heard all these beautiful things +as soon as one let the bow glide over the strings? +The violin did that. It knew how it ought to +be, and the Dalar man only sat and listened. +Melodies grew out of that violin as grass grows +out of the earth. No one could understand how +it happened. Our Lord had ordered it so.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Dalar man intended to remain sitting +there the whole day, and let the dear tunes grow +out of the violin like small white and many-coloured +flowers. He would play a whole +meadowful of flowers, play a whole long valleyful, +a whole wide plain.</p> + +<p>But she who lay in the coffin distinctly heard +the violin, and upon her it had a strange effect. +The tones had made her dream, and what she +had seen in her dreams caused her such emotion +that her heart began to beat, her blood to flow, +and she awoke.</p> + +<p>But all she had lived through while she lay +there, apparently dead, the thoughts she had had, +and also her last dream—everything vanished +in the same moment she awoke to consciousness. +She did not even know that she was lying +in her coffin, but thought she was still lying ill +at home in her bed. She only thought it strange +that she was still alive. A little while ago, before +she fell asleep, she had been in the pangs of +death. Surely, all must have been over with +her long ago. She had taken leave of her +adopted parents, and of her brothers and sisters, +and of the servants. The Dean had been there +himself to administer the last Communion, for +her adopted father did not think he could bear +to give it to her himself. For several days she +had put away all earthly thoughts from her mind. +It was incomprehensible that she was not dead.</p> + +<p>She wondered why it was so dark in the room +where she lay. There had been a light all the +other nights during her illness. And then they +had let the blankets fall off the bed. She was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +lying there getting as cold as ice. She raised +herself a little to pull the blankets over her. +In doing so she knocked her head against the +lid of the coffin, and fell back with a little scream +of pain. She had knocked herself rather severely, +and immediately became unconscious +again. She lay as motionless as before, and it +seemed as if life had again left her.</p> + +<p>The Dalar man, who had heard both the +knock and the cry, immediately laid down his +violin and sat listening; but there was nothing +more to be heard—nothing whatever. He began +again to look at the coffin as attentively +as before. He sat nodding his head, as if he +would say 'Yes' to what he was himself thinking +about, namely, that nothing in this world +was to be depended upon. Here he had had +the best and most silent of comrades, but had +he not also been disappointed in him?</p> + +<p>He sat and looked at the coffin, as if trying +to see right through it. At last, when it continued +quite still, he took his violin again and +began to play. But the violin would not play +any longer. However gently and tenderly he +drew his bow, there came forth no melody. This +was so sad that he was nearly crying. He had +intended to sit still and listen to his violin the +whole day, and now it would not play any more.</p> + +<p>He could quite understand the reason. The +violin was uneasy and afraid of what had moved +in the coffin. It had forgotten all its melodies, +and thought only of what it could be that had +knocked at the coffin-lid. That is how it is +one forgets everything when one is afraid. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +saw that he would have to quiet the violin if he +wanted to hear more.</p> + +<p>He had felt so happy, more so than for many +years. If there was really anything bad in the +coffin, would it not be better to let it out? Then +the violin would be glad, and beautiful flowers +would again grow out of it.</p> + +<p>He quickly opened his big pack, and began +to rummage amongst his knives and saws and +hammers until he found a screw-driver. In +another moment he was down in the grave on +his knees and unscrewing the coffin-lid. He +took out one screw after the other, until at last +he could raise the lid against the side of the +grave; at the same moment the handkerchief +fell from off the face of the apparently dead girl. +As soon as the fresh air reached Ingrid, she +opened her eyes. Now she saw that it was +light. They must have removed her. Now +she was lying in a yellow chamber with a green +ceiling, and a large chandelier was hanging from +the ceiling. The chamber was small, but the +bed was still smaller. Why had she the sensation +of her arms and legs being tied? Was +it because she should lie still in the little narrow +bed? It was strange that they had placed a +hymn-book under her chin; they only did that +with corpses. Between her fingers she had a +little bouquet. Her adopted mother had cut +a few sprigs from her flowering myrtle, and +laid them in her hands. Ingrid was very much +surprised. What had come to her adopted +mother? She saw that they had given her a +pillow with broad lace, and a fine hem-stitched<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +sheet. She was very glad of that; she liked to +have things nice. Still, she would rather have +had a warm blanket over her. It could surely +not be good for a sick person to lie without a +blanket. Ingrid was nearly putting her hands +to her eyes and beginning to cry, she was so +bitterly cold. At the same moment she felt +something hard and cold against her cheek. +She could not help smiling. It was the old, +red wooden horse, the old three-legged Camilla, +that lay beside her on the pillow. Her little +brother, who could never sleep at night without +having it with him in his bed, had put it in +her bed. It was very sweet of her little brother. +Ingrid felt still more inclined to cry when she +understood that her little brother had wanted +to comfort her with his wooden horse.</p> + +<p>But she did not get so far as crying. The +truth all at once flashed upon her. Her little +brother had given her the wooden horse, and +her mother had given her her white myrtle flowers, +and the hymn-book had been placed under +her chin, because they had thought she was dead.</p> + +<p>Ingrid took hold of the sides of the coffin +with both hands and raised herself. The little +narrow bed was a coffin, and the little narrow +chamber was a grave. It was all very difficult +to understand. She could not understand that +this concerned her, that it was she who had +been swathed like a corpse and placed in the +grave. She must be lying all the same in her +bed, and be seeing or dreaming all this. She +would soon find out that this was no reality, +but that everything was as usual.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<p>All at once she found the explanation of the +whole thing—'I often have such strange dreams. +This is only a vision'—and she sighed, relieved +and happy. She laid herself down in her coffin +again; she was so sure that it was her own +bed, for that was not very wide either.</p> + +<p>All this time the Dalar man stood in the +grave, quite close to the foot of the coffin. He +only stood a few feet from her, but she had not +seen him; that was probably because he had +tried to hide himself in the corner of the grave +as soon as the dead in the coffin had opened +her eyes and begun to move. She could, perhaps, +have seen him, although he held the coffin-lid +before him as a screen, had there not been +something like a white mist before her eyes so +that she could only see things quite near her +distinctly. Ingrid could not even see that there +were earthen walls around her. She had taken +the sun to be a large chandelier, and the shady +lime-trees for a roof. The poor Dalar man stood +and waited for the thing that moved in the coffin +to go away. It did not strike him that it would +not go unrequested. Had it not knocked because +it wanted to get out? He stood for a long time +with his head behind the coffin-lid and waited, +that it should go. He peeped over the lid when +he thought that now it must have gone. But +it had not moved; it remained lying on its bed +of shavings.</p> + +<p>He could not put up with it any longer; he +must really make an end of it. It was a long +time since his violin had spoken so prettily as +to-day, he longed to sit again quietly with it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +Ingrid, who had nearly fallen asleep again, suddenly +heard herself addressed in the sing-song +Dalar dialect:</p> + +<p>'Now, I think it is time you got up.'</p> + +<p>As soon as he had said this he hid his head. +He shook so much over his boldness that he +nearly let the lid fall.</p> + +<p>But the white mist which had been before +Ingrid's eyes disappeared completely when she +heard a human being speaking. She saw a man +standing in the corner, at the foot of the coffin, +holding a coffin-lid before him. She saw at +once that she could not lie down again and think +it was a vision. Surely he was a reality, which +she must try and make out. It certainly looked +as if the coffin were a coffin, and the grave a +grave, and that she herself a few minutes ago +was nothing but a swathed and buried corpse. +For the first time she was terror-stricken at what +had happened to her. To think that she could +really have been dead that moment! She could +have been a hideous corpse, food for worms. +She had been placed in the coffin for them to +throw earth upon her; she was worth no more +than a piece of turf; she had been thrown aside +altogether. The worms were welcome to eat +her; no one would mind about that.</p> + +<p>Ingrid needed so badly to have a fellow-creature +near her in her great terror. She had +recognized the Goat directly he put up his head. +He was an old acquaintance from the parsonage; +she was not in the least afraid of him. She +wanted him to come close to her. She did not +mind in the least that he was an idiot. He was,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +at any rate, a living being. She wanted him to +come so near to her that she could feel she belonged +to the living and not to the dead.</p> + +<p>'Oh, for God's sake, come close to me!' she +said, with tears in her voice.</p> + +<p>She raised herself in the coffin and stretched +out her arms to him.</p> + +<p>But the Dalar man only thought of himself. +If she were so anxious to have him near her, he +resolved to make his own terms.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' he said, 'if you will go away.'</p> + +<p>Ingrid at once tried to comply with his request, +but she was so tightly swathed in the +sheet that she found it difficult to get up.</p> + +<p>'You must come and help me,' she said.</p> + +<p>She said this, partly because she was obliged +to do it, and partly because she was afraid that +she had not quite escaped death. She must be +near someone living.</p> + +<p>He actually went near her, squeezing himself +between the coffin and the side of the grave. +He bent over her, lifted her out of the coffin, +and put her down on the grass at the side of +the open grave.</p> + +<p>Ingrid could not help it. She threw her arms +round his neck, laid her head on his shoulder +and sobbed. Afterwards she could not understand +how she had been able to do this, and +that she was not afraid of him. It was partly +from joy that he was a human being—a living +human being—and partly from gratitude, because +he had saved her.</p> + +<p>What would have become of her if it had not +been for him? It was he who had raised the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +coffin-lid, who had brought her back to life. +She certainly did not know how it had all happened, +but it was surely he who had opened +the coffin. What would have happened to her +if he had not done this? She would have +awakened to find herself imprisoned in the +black coffin. She would have knocked and +shouted; but who would have heard her six +feet below the ground? Ingrid dared not think of +it; she was entirely absorbed with gratitude +because she had been saved. She must have +someone she could thank. She must lay her +head on someone's breast and cry from gratitude.</p> + +<p>The most extraordinary thing, almost, that +happened that day was, that the Dalar man did +not repulse her. But it was not quite clear to +him that she was alive. He thought she was +dead, and he knew it was not advisable to offend +anyone dead. But as soon as he could manage, +he freed himself from her and went down into +the grave again. He placed the lid carefully on +the coffin, put in the screws and fastened it as +before. Then he thought the coffin would be +quite still, and the violin would regain its peace +and its melodies.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Ingrid sat on the grass and +tried to collect her thoughts. She looked +towards the church and discovered the horses +and the carriages on the hillside. Then she +began to realize everything. It was Sunday; +they had placed her in the grave in the morning, +and now they were in church.</p> + +<p>A great fear now seized Ingrid. The service<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +would, perhaps, soon be over, and then all the +people would come out and see her. And she +had nothing on but a sheet! She was almost +naked. Fancy, if all these people came and saw +her in this state! They would never forget the +sight. And she would be ashamed of it all her +life.</p> + +<p>Where should she get some clothes? For a +moment she thought of throwing the Dalar +man's fur coat round her, but she did not think +that that would make her any more like other +people.</p> + +<p>She turned quickly to the crazy man, who +was still working at the coffin-lid.</p> + +<p>'Oh,' she said, 'will you let me creep into +your pack?'</p> + +<p>In a moment she stood by the great leather +pack, which contained goods enough to fill a +whole market-stall, and began to open it.</p> + +<p>'You must come and help me.'</p> + +<p>She did not ask in vain. When the Dalar +man saw her touching his wares he came up at +once.</p> + +<p>'Are you touching my pack?' he asked threateningly.</p> + +<p>Ingrid did not notice that he spoke angrily; +she considered him to be her best friend all +the time.</p> + +<p>'Oh, dear good man,' she said, 'help me to +hide, so that people will not see me. Put your +wares somewhere or other, and let me creep +into the pack, and carry me home. Oh, do do +it! I live at the Parsonage, and it is only a +little way from here. You know where it is.'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<p>The man stood and looked at her with stupid +eyes. She did not know whether he had understood +a word of what she said. She repeated +it, but he made no sign of obeying her. She +began again to take the things out of the pack. +Then he stamped on the ground and tore the +pack from her.</p> + +<p>However should Ingrid be able to make him +do what she wanted?</p> + +<p>On the grass beside her lay a violin and a +bow. She took them up mechanically—she did +not know herself why. She had probably been +so much in the company of people playing the +violin that she could not bear to see an instrument +lying on the ground.</p> + +<p>As soon as she touched the violin he let go +the pack, and tore the violin from her. He was +evidently quite beside himself when anyone +touched his violin. He looked quite malicious.</p> + +<p>What in the world could she do to get away +before people came out of church?</p> + +<p>She began to promise him all sorts of things, +just as one promises children when one wants +them to be good.</p> + +<p>'I will ask father to buy a whole dozen of +scythes from you. I will lock up all the dogs +when you come to the Parsonage. I will ask +mother to give you a good meal.'</p> + +<p>But there was no sign of his giving way. She +bethought herself of the violin, and said in her +despair:</p> + +<p>'If you will carry me to the Parsonage, I will +play for you.'</p> + +<p>At last a smile flashed across his face. That +was evidently what he wanted.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<p>'I will play for you the whole afternoon; I +will play for you as long as you like.'</p> + +<p>'Will you teach the violin new melodies?' +he asked.</p> + +<p>'Of course I will.'</p> + +<p>But Ingrid now became both surprised and +unhappy, for he took hold of the pack and pulled +it towards him. He dragged it over the graves, +and the sweet-williams and southernwood that +grew on them were crushed under it as if it +were a roller. He dragged it to a heap of +branches and wizened leaves and old wreaths +lying near the wall round the churchyard. There +he took all the things out of the pack, and hid +them well under the heap. When it was empty +he returned to Ingrid.</p> + +<p>'Now you can get in,' he said.</p> + +<p>Ingrid stepped into the pack, and crouched +down on the wooden bottom. The man fastened +all the straps as carefully as when he went about +with his usual wares, bent down so that he nearly +went on his knees, put his arms through the +braces, buckled a couple of straps across his +chest, and stood up. When he had gone a few +steps he began to laugh. His pack was so light +that he could have danced with it.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>It was only about a mile from the church to +the Parsonage. The Dalar man could walk it +in twenty minutes. Ingrid's only wish was that +he would walk so quickly that she could get +home before the people came back from church. +She could not bear the idea of so many people +seeing her. She would like to get home when +only her mother and the maid-servants were there.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ingrid had taken with her the little bouquet +of flowers from her adopted mother's myrtle. +She was so pleased with it that she kissed it +over and over again. It made her think more +kindly of her adopted mother than she had ever +done before. But in any case she would, of +course, think kindly of her now. One who has +come straight from the grave must think kindly +and gently of everything living and moving on +the face of the earth.</p> + +<p>She could now understand so well that the +Pastor's wife was bound to love her own children +more than her adopted daughter. And +when they were so poor at the Parsonage that +they could not afford to keep a nursemaid, she +could see now that it was quite natural that +she should look after her little brothers and +sisters. And when her brothers and sisters +were not good to her, it was because they had +become accustomed to think of her as their +nurse. It was not so easy for them to remember +that she had come to the Parsonage to be +their sister.</p> + +<p>And, after all, it all came from their being +poor. When father some day got another living, +and became Dean, or even Rector, everything +would surely come right. Then they would love +her again, as they did when she first came to +them. The good old times would be sure to +come back again. Ingrid kissed her flowers. +It had not been mother's intention, perhaps, to +be hard; it was only worry that had made her +so strange and unkind.</p> + +<p>But now it would not matter how unkind they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +were to her. In the future nothing could hurt +her, for now she would always be glad, simply +because she was alive. And if things should +ever be really bad again, she would only think +of mother's myrtle and her little brother's horse.</p> + +<p>It was happiness enough to know that she was +being carried along the road alive. This morning +no one had thought that she would ever again +go over these roads and hills. And the fragrant +clover and the little birds singing and the beautiful +shady trees, which had all been a source of +joy for the living, had not even existed for her. +But she had not much time for reflection, for in +twenty minutes the Dalar man had reached the +Parsonage.</p> + +<p>No one was at home but the Pastor's wife and +the maid-servants, just as Ingrid had wished. +The Pastor's wife had been busy the whole +morning cooking for the funeral feast. She soon +expected the guests, and everything was nearly +ready. She had just been into the bedroom to +put on her black dress. She glanced down the +road to the church, but there were still no carriages +to be seen. So she went once again into +the kitchen to taste the food.</p> + +<p>She was quite satisfied, for everything was as +it ought to be, and one cannot help being glad +for that, even if one is in mourning. There was +only one maid in the kitchen, and that was the +one the Pastor's wife had brought with her from +her old home, so she felt she could speak to her +in confidence.</p> + +<p>'I must confess, Lisa,' she said, 'I think anyone +would be pleased with having such a funeral.'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<p>'If she could only look down and see all the +fuss you make of her,' Lisa said, 'she would be +pleased.'</p> + +<p>'Ah!' said the Pastor's wife, 'I don't think she +would ever be pleased with me.'</p> + +<p>'She is dead now,' said the girl, 'and I am not +the one to say anything against one who is hardly +yet under the ground.'</p> + +<p>'I have had to bear many a hard word from +my husband for her sake,' said the mistress.</p> + +<p>The Pastor's wife felt she wanted to speak with +someone about the dead girl. Her conscience +had pricked her a little on her account, and this +was why she had arranged such a grand funeral +feast. She thought her conscience might leave +her alone now she had had so much trouble over +the funeral, but it did not do so by any means. +Her husband also reproached himself, and said +that the young girl had not been treated like one +of their own children, and that they had promised +she should be when they adopted her; and +he said it would have been better if they had +never taken her, when they could not help letting +her see that they loved their own children more. +And now the Pastor's wife felt she must talk to +someone about the young girl, to hear whether +people thought she had treated her badly.</p> + +<p>She saw that Lisa began to stir the pan violently, +as if she had difficulty in controlling her +anger. She was a clever girl, who thoroughly +understood how to get into her mistress's good +books.</p> + +<p>'I must say,' Lisa began, 'that when one has +a mother who always looks after one, and takes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +care that one is neat and clean, one might at +least try to obey and please her. And when one +is allowed to live in a good Parsonage, and to +be educated respectably, one ought at least to +give some return for it, and not always go idling +about and dreaming. I should like to know what +would have happened if you had not taken the +poor thing in. I suppose she would have been +running about with those acrobats, and have died +in the streets, like any other poor wretch.'</p> + +<p>A man from Dalarne came across the yard; +he had his pack on his back, although it was Sunday. +He came very quietly through the open +kitchen-door, and curtsied when he entered, but +no one took any notice of him. Both the mistress +and the maid saw him, but as they knew +him, they did not think it necessary to interrupt +their conversation.</p> + +<p>The Pastor's wife was anxious to continue it; +she felt she was about to hear what she needed to +ease her conscience.</p> + +<p>'It is perhaps as well she is gone,' she said.</p> + +<p>'Yes, ma'am,' the servant said eagerly; 'and +I am sure the Pastor thinks just the same. In +any case he soon will. And the mistress will +see that now there will be more peace in the +house, and I am sure the master needs it.'</p> + +<p>'Oh!' said the Pastor's wife, 'I was obliged +to be careful. There were always so many +clothes to be got for her, that it was quite dreadful. +He was so afraid that she should not get as +much as the others that she sometimes even had +more. And it cost so much, now that she was +grown up.'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<p>'I suppose, ma'am, Greta will get her muslin +dress?'</p> + +<p>'Yes; either Greta will have it, or I shall use +it myself.'</p> + +<p>'She does not leave much behind her, poor +thing!'</p> + +<p>'No one expects her to leave anything,' said +her adopted mother. 'I should be quite content +if I could remember ever having had a kind word +from her.'</p> + +<p>This is only the kind of thing one says when +one has a bad conscience, and wants to excuse +one's self. Her adopted mother did not really +mean what she said.</p> + +<p>The Dalar man behaved exactly as he always +did when he came to sell his wares. He stood +for a little while looking round the kitchen; then +he slowly pushed the pack on to a table, and unfastened +the braces and the straps; then he +looked round to see if there were any cats or +dogs about. He then straightened his back, and +began to unfasten the two leather flaps, which +were fastened with numerous buckles and knots.</p> + +<p>'He need not trouble about opening his pack +to-day,' Lisa said; 'it is Sunday, and he knows +quite well we don't buy anything on Sundays.'</p> + +<p>She, however, took no notice of the crazy fellow, +who continued to unfasten his straps. She +turned round to her mistress. This was a good +opportunity for insinuating herself.</p> + +<p>'I don't even know whether she was good to +the children. I have often heard them cry in +the nursery.'</p> + +<p>'I suppose it was the same with them as it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +was with their mother,' said the Pastor's wife; +'but now, of course, they cry because she is +dead.'</p> + +<p>'They don't understand what is best for them,' +said the servant; 'but the mistress can be certain +that before a month is gone there will be no one +to cry over her.'</p> + +<p>At the same moment they both turned round +from the kitchen range, and looked towards the +table, where the Dalar man stood opening his +big pack. They had heard a strange noise, something +like a sigh or a sob. The man was just +opening the inside lid, and out of the pack rose +the newly-buried <span class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: Original has birl">girl</span>, exactly the same as when +they laid her in the coffin.</p> + +<p>And yet she did not look quite the same. She +looked almost more dead now than when she was +laid in her coffin. Then she had nearly the same +colour as when she was alive; now her face was +ashy-gray, there was a bluish-black shadow +round her mouth, and her eyes lay deep in her +head. She said nothing, but her face expressed +the greatest despair, and she held out beseechingly, +and as if to avert their anger, the bouquet +of myrtle which she had received from her +adopted mother.</p> + +<p>This sight was more than flesh and blood could +stand. Her mother fell fainting to the ground; +the maid stood still for a moment, gazing at the +mother and daughter, covered her eyes with her +hands, and rushed into her own room and locked +the door.</p> + +<p>'It is not me she has come for; this does not +concern me.'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Ingrid turned round to the Dalar man.</p> + +<p>'Put me in your pack again, and take me away. +Do you hear? Take me away. Take me back to +where you found me.'</p> + +<p>The Dalar man happened to look through the +window. A long row of carts and carriages was +coming up the avenue and into the yard. Ah, +indeed! then he was not going to stay. He did +not like that at all.</p> + +<p>Ingrid crouched down at the bottom of the +pack. She said not another word, but only +sobbed. The flaps and the lids were fastened, +and she was again lifted on to his back and carried +away. Those who were coming to the funeral +feast laughed at the Goat, who hastened away, +curtsying and curtsying to every horse he met.</p> + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>Anna Stina was an old woman who lived in +the depths of the forest. She gave a helping hand +at the Parsonage now and then, and always +managed opportunely to come down the hillside +when they were baking or washing. She was a +nice, clever old woman, and she and Ingrid were +good friends. As soon as the young girl was able +to collect her thoughts, she made up her mind to +take refuge with her.</p> + +<p>'Listen,' she said to the Dalar man. 'When +you get onto the highroad, turn into the forest; +then go straight on until you come to a gate; there +you must turn to the left; then you must go +straight on until you come to the large gravel-pit.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +From there you can see a house: take me there, +and I will play to you.'</p> + +<p>The short and harsh manner in which she gave +her orders jarred upon her ears, but she was +obliged to speak in this way in order to be obeyed; +it was the only chance she had. What right had +she to order another person about—she who had +not even the right to be alive?</p> + +<p>After all this she would never again be able to +feel as if she had any right to live. This was the +most dreadful part of all that had happened to +her: that she could have lived in the Parsonage +for six years, and not even been able to make herself +so much loved that they wished to keep her +alive. And those whom no one loves have no +right to live. She could not exactly say how she +knew it was so, but it was as clear as daylight. +She knew it from the feeling that the same moment +she heard that they did not care about her +an iron hand seemed to have crushed her heart as +if to make it stop. Yes, it was life itself that had +been closed for her. And the same moment she +had come back from death, and felt the delight of +being alive burn brightly and strongly within her, +just at that moment the one thing that gave her +the right of existing had been torn from her.</p> + +<p>This was worse than sentence of death. It was +much more cruel than an ordinary sentence of +death. She knew what it was like. It was like +felling a tree—not in the usual manner, when the +trunk is cut through, but by cutting its roots and +leaving it standing in the ground to die by itself. +There the tree stands, and cannot understand why +it no longer gets nourishment and support. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +struggles and strives to live, but the leaves get +smaller and smaller, it sends forth no fresh shoots, +the bark falls off, and it must die, because it is severed +from the spring of life. Thus it is it must die.</p> + +<p>At last the Dalar man put down his pack on the +stone step outside a little house in the midst of the +wild forest. The door was locked, but as soon as +Ingrid had got out of the pack she took the key +from under the doorstep, opened the door, and +walked in.</p> + +<p>Ingrid knew the house thoroughly and all it +contained. It was not the first time she had come +there for comfort; it was not the first time she had +come and told old Anna Stina that she could not +bear living at home any longer—that her adopted +mother was so hard to her that she would not go +back to the Parsonage. But every time she came +the old woman had talked her over and quieted +her. She had made her some terrible coffee from +roasted peas and chicory, without a single coffee-bean +in it, but which had all the same given her +new courage, and in the end she had made her +laugh at everything, and encouraged her so much, +that she had simply danced down the hillside on +her way home.</p> + +<p>Even if Anna Stina had been at home, and had +made some of her terrible coffee, it would probably +not have helped Ingrid this time. But the +old woman was down at the Parsonage to the +funeral feast, for the Pastor's wife had not forgotten +to invite any of those of whom Ingrid had +been fond. That, too, was probably the result of +an uneasy conscience.</p> + +<p>But in Anna's room everything was as usual.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +And when Ingrid saw the sofa with the wooden +seat, and the clean, scoured table, and the cat, and +the coffee-kettle, although she did not feel comforted +or cheered, she felt that here was a place +where she could give vent to her sorrow. It was +a relief that here she need not think of anything +but crying and moaning.</p> + +<p>She went straight to the settle, threw herself on +the wooden seat, and lay there crying, she did not +know for how long.</p> + +<p>The Dalar man sat outside on the stone step; +he did not want to go into the house on account of +the cat. He expected that Ingrid would come +out and play to him. He had taken the violin out +long ago. As it was such a long time before she +came, he began to play himself. He played softly +and gently, as was his wont. It was barely possible +for the young girl to hear him playing.</p> + +<p>Ingrid had one fit of shivering after the other. +This was how she had been before she fell ill. +She would no doubt be ill again. It was also best +that the fever should come and put an end to her +in earnest.</p> + +<p>When she heard the violin, she rose and looked +round with bewildered glance. Who was that +playing? Was that her student? Had he come +at last? It soon struck her, however, that it was +the Dalar man, and she lay down again with a +sigh. She could not follow what he was playing. +But as soon as she closed her eyes the violin assumed +the student's voice. She also heard what +he said; he spoke with her adopted mother and +defended her. He spoke just as nicely as he had +done to Mr. and Mrs. Blomgren. Ingrid needed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +love so much, he said. That was what she +had missed. That was why she had not always +attended to her work, but allowed dreams to +fill her mind. But no one knew how she could +work and slave for those who loved her. For +their sake she could bear sorrow and sickness, and +contempt and poverty; for them she would be as +strong as a giant, and as patient as a slave.</p> + +<p>Ingrid heard him distinctly and she became +quiet. Yes, it was true. If only her adopted +mother had loved her, she would have seen what +Ingrid was worth. But as she did not love her, +Ingrid was paralyzed in her efforts. Yes, so it +had been.</p> + +<p>Now the fever had left her, she only lay and +listened to what the student said. She slept a +little now and then; time after time she thought +she was lying in her grave, and then it was always +the student who came and took her out of the coffin. +She lay and disputed with him.</p> + +<p>'When I am dreaming it is you who come,' she +said.</p> + +<p>'It is always I who come to you, Ingrid,' he +said. 'I thought you knew that. I take you out +of the grave; I carry you on my shoulders; I +play you to sleep. It is always I.'</p> + +<p>What disturbed and awoke her was the thought +that she had to get up and play for the Dalar man. +Several times she rose up to do it, but could not. +As soon as she fell back upon the settle she began +to dream. She sat crouching in the pack and the +student carried her through the forest. It was +always he.</p> + +<p>'But it was not you,' she said to him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Of course it was I,' he said, smiling at her +contradicting him. 'You have been thinking +about me every day for all these years; so you +can understand I could not help saving you when +you were in such great danger.'</p> + +<p>Of course she saw the force of his argument; +and then she began to realize that he was right, +and that it was he. But this was such infinite bliss +that she again awoke. Love seemed to fill her +whole being. It could not have been more real +had she seen and spoken with her beloved.</p> + +<p>'Why does he never come in real life?' she +said, half aloud. 'Why does he only come in my +dreams?'</p> + +<p>She did not dare to move, for then love would +fly away. It was as if a timid bird had settled on +her shoulder, and she was afraid of frightening +it away. If she moved, the bird would fly away, +and sorrow would overcome her.</p> + +<p>When at last she really awoke, it was twilight. +She must have slept the whole afternoon and evening. +At that time of the year it was not dark until +after ten o'clock. The violin had ceased playing, +and the Dalar man had probably gone away.</p> + +<p>Anna Stina had not yet come back. She would +probably be away the whole night. It did not +matter to Ingrid; all she wanted was to lie down +again and sleep. She was afraid of all the sorrow +and despair that would overwhelm her as soon as +she awoke. But then she got something new to +think about. Who could have closed the door? +who had spread Anna Stina's great shawl over +her? and who had placed a piece of dry bread +beside her on the seat? Had he, the Goat, done<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +all this for her? For a moment she thought she +saw dream and reality standing side by side, trying +which could best console her. And the dream +stood joyous and smiling, showering over her all +the bliss of love to comfort her. But life, poor, +hard, and bitter though it was, also brought its +kindly little mite to show that it did not mean to +be so hard upon her as perhaps she thought.</p> + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>Ingrid and Anna Stina were walking through +the dark forest. They had been walking for four +days, and had slept three nights in the Säter huts. +Ingrid was weak and weary; her face was transparently +pale; her eyes were sunken, and shone +feverishly. Old Anna Stina now and then secretly +cast an anxious look at her, and prayed to God +that He would sustain her so that she might not +die by the wayside. Now and then the old +woman could not help looking behind her with +uneasiness. She had an uncomfortable feeling +that the old man with his scythe came stealthily +after them through the forest to reclaim the +young girl who, both by the word of God and the +casting of earth upon her, had been consecrated +to him.</p> + +<p>Old Anna Stina was little and broad, with a +large, square face, which was so intelligent that +it was almost good-looking. She was not superstitious—she +lived quite alone in the midst of the +forest without being afraid either of witches or +evil spirits—but as she walked there by the side<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +of Ingrid she felt as distinctly as if someone had +told her that she was walking beside a being who +did not belong to this world. She had had that +sensation ever since she had found Ingrid lying in +her house that Monday morning.</p> + +<p>Anna Stina had not returned home on the Sunday +evening, for down at the Parsonage the Pastor's +wife had been taken very ill, and Anna Stina, +who was accustomed to nurse sick people, had +stayed to sit up with her. The whole night she +had heard the Pastor's wife raving about Ingrid's +having appeared to her; but that the old woman +had not believed. And when she returned home +the next day and found Ingrid, the old woman +would at once have gone down to the Parsonage +again to tell them that it was not a ghost they had +seen; but when she had suggested this to Ingrid, +it had affected her so much that she dared not do +it. It was as if the little life which burnt in her +would be extinguished, just as the flame of a candle +is put out by too strong a draught. She could +have died as easily as a little bird in its cage. +Death was prowling around her. There was +nothing to be done but to nurse her very tenderly +and deal very gently with her if her life was to be +preserved.</p> + +<p>The old woman hardly knew what to think of +Ingrid. Perhaps she was a ghost; there seemed +to be so little life in her. She quite gave up trying +to talk her to reason. There was nothing else for +it but giving in to her wishes that no one should +hear anything about her being alive. And then +the old woman tried to arrange everything as +wisely as possible. She had a sister who was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +housekeeper on a large estate in Dalarne, and she +made up her mind to take Ingrid to her, and persuade +her sister, Stafva, to give the girl a situation +at the Manor House. Ingrid would have to be +content with being simply a servant. There was +nothing else for it.</p> + +<p>They were now on their way to the Manor +House. Anna Stina knew the country so well +that they were not obliged to go by the highroad, +but could follow the lonely forest paths. But they +had also undergone much hardship. Their shoes +were worn and in pieces, their skirts soiled and +frayed at the bottom, and a branch had torn a +long rent in Ingrid's sleeve.</p> + +<p>On the evening of the fourth day they came to a +hill from which they could look down into a deep +valley. In the valley was a lake, and near the +edge of the lake was a high, rocky island, upon +which stood a large white building. When Anna +Stina saw the house, she said it was called Munkhyttan, +and that it was there her sister lived.</p> + +<p>They made themselves as tidy as they could on +the hillside. They arranged the handkerchiefs +which they wore on their heads, dried their shoes +with moss, and washed themselves in a forest +stream, and Anna Stina tried to make a fold in Ingrid's +sleeve so that the rent could not be seen.</p> + +<p>The old woman sighed when she looked at +Ingrid, and quite lost courage. It was not only +that she looked so strange in the clothes she had +borrowed from Anna Stina, and which did not at +all fit her, but her sister Stafva would never take +her into her service, she looked so wretched and +pitiful. It was like engaging a breath of wind.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +The girl could be of no more use than a sick +butterfly.</p> + +<p>As soon as they were ready, they went down the +hill to the lake. It was only a short distance. +Then they came to the land belonging to the +Manor House.</p> + +<p>Was that a country house?</p> + +<p>There were large neglected fields, upon which +the forest encroached more and more. There +was a bridge leading on to the island, so shaky +that they hardly thought it would keep together +until they were safely over. There was an avenue +leading from the bridge to the main building, +covered with grass, like a meadow, and a tree +which had been blown down had been left lying +across the road.</p> + +<p>The island was pretty enough, so pretty that a +castle might very well have been built there. But +nothing but weeds grew in the garden, and in the +large park the trees were choking each other, and +black snakes glided over the green, wet walks.</p> + +<p>Anna Stina felt uneasy when she saw how neglected +everything was, and went along mumbling +to herself: 'What does all this mean? Is Stafva +dead? How can she stand everything looking +like this? Things were very different thirty years +ago, when I was last here. What in the world +can be the matter with Stafva?' She could not +imagine that there could be such neglect in any +place where Stafva lived.</p> + +<p>Ingrid walked behind her, slowly and reluctantly. +The moment she put her foot on the +bridge she felt that there were not two walking +there, but three. Someone had come to meet her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +there, and had turned back to accompany her. +Ingrid heard no footsteps, but he who accompanied +them appeared indistinctly by her side. +She could see there was someone.</p> + +<p>She became terribly afraid. She was just going +to beg Anna Stina to turn back and tell her that +everything seemed so strange here that she dare +not go any further. But before she had time to +say anything, the stranger came quite close to her, +and she recognised him. Before, she only saw +him indistinctly; now she saw him so clearly +that she could see it was the student.</p> + +<p>It no longer seemed weird and ghost-like that +he walked there. It was only strangely delightful +that he came to receive her. It was as if it were +he who had brought her there, and would, by +coming to welcome her, show that it was.</p> + +<p>He walked with her over the bridge, through +the avenue, quite up to the main building.</p> + +<p>She could not help turning her head every +moment to the left. It was there she saw his face, +quite close to her cheek. It was really not a face +that she saw, only an unspeakably beautiful smile +that drew tenderly near her. But if she turned +her head quite round to see it properly, it was no +longer there. No, there was nothing one could +see distinctly. But as soon as she looked straight +before her, it was there again, quite close to +her.</p> + +<p>Her invisible companion did not speak to her, +he only smiled. But that was enough for her. It +was more than enough to show her that there was +one in the world who kept near her with tender +love.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>She felt his presence as something so real, that +she firmly believed he protected her and watched +over her. And before this happy consciousness +vanished all the despair which her adopted mother's +hard words had called forth.</p> + +<p>Ingrid felt herself again given back to life. She +had the right to live, as there was one who loved +her.</p> + +<p>And this was why she entered the kitchen at +Munkhyttan with a faint blush on her cheeks, and +with radiant eyes, fragile, weak, and transparent, +but sweet as a newly-opened rose.</p> + +<p>She still went about as if in a dream, and did not +know much about where she was; but what surprised +her so much that it nearly awakened her +was to see a new Anna Stina standing by the fireplace. +She stood there, little and broad, with a +large, square face, exactly like the other. But +why was she so fine, with a white cap with strings +tied in a large bow under her chin, and with a +black bombazine dress? Ingrid's head was so +confused, that it was some time before it occurred +to her that this must be Miss Stafva.</p> + +<p>She felt that Anna Stina looked uneasily at her, +and she tried to pull herself together and say +'Good-day.' But the only thing her mind could +grasp was the thought that he had come to her.</p> + +<p>Inside the kitchen there was a small room, with +blue-checked covering on the furniture. They +were taken into that room, and Miss Stafva gave +them coffee and something to eat.</p> + +<p>Anna Stina at once began to talk about +their errand. She spoke for a long time; said +that she knew her sister stood so high in her ladyship's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +favour that she left it to her to engage the +servants. Miss Stafva said nothing, but she gave +a look at Ingrid as much as to say that it would +hardly have been left with her if she had chosen +servants like her.</p> + +<p>Anna Stina praised Ingrid, and said she was a +good girl. She had hitherto served in a parsonage, +but now that she was grown up she wanted +really to learn something, and that was why Anna +Stina had brought her to one who could teach her +more than any other person she knew.</p> + +<p>Miss Stafva did not reply to this remark either. +But her glance plainly showed that she was surprised +that anyone who had had a situation in a +parsonage had no clothes of her own, but was +obliged to borrow old Anna Stina's.</p> + +<p>Then old Anna Stina began to tell how she lived +quite alone in the forest, deserted by all her relatives. +And this young girl had come running up +the hill many an evening and many an early +morning to see her. She had therefore thought +and hoped that she could now help her to get a +good situation.</p> + +<p>Miss Stafva said it was a pity that they had gone +such a long way to find a place. If she were a +clever girl, she could surely get a situation in +some good family in their own neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>Anna Stina could now clearly see that Ingrid's +prospects were not good, and therefore she began +in a more solemn vein:</p> + +<p>'Here you have lived, Stafva, and had a good, +comfortable home all your life, and I have had to +fight my way in great poverty. But I have never +asked you for anything before to-day. And now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +you will send me away like a beggar, to whom +one gives a meal and nothing more.'</p> + +<p>Miss Stafva smiled a little; then she said:</p> + +<p>'Sister Anna Stina, you are not telling me the +truth. I, too, come from Raglanda, and I should +like to know at what peasant's house in that +parish grow such eyes and such a face.'</p> + +<p>And she pointed at Ingrid, and continued:</p> + +<p>'I can quite understand, Anna Stina, that you +would like to help one who looks like that. But I +do not understand how you can think that your +sister Stafva has not more sense than to believe +the stories you choose to tell her.'</p> + +<p>Anna Stina was so frightened that she could not +say a word, but Ingrid made up her mind to confide +in Miss Stafva, and began at once to tell her +whole story in her soft, beautiful voice.</p> + +<p>And Ingrid had hardly told of how she had +been lying in the grave, and that a Dalar man had +come and saved her, before old Miss Stafva grew +red and quickly bent down to hide it. It was only +a second, but there must have been some cause for +it, for from that moment she looked so kind.</p> + +<p>She soon began to ask full particulars about it; +more especially she wanted to know about the +crazy man, whether Ingrid had not been afraid of +him. Oh no, he did no harm. He was not mad, +Ingrid said; he could both buy and sell. He was +only frightened of some things.</p> + +<p>Ingrid thought the hardest of all was to tell +what she had heard her adopted mother say. But +she told everything, although there were tears in +her voice.</p> + +<p>Then Miss Stafva went up to her, drew back the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +handkerchief from her head, and looked into her +eyes. Then she patted her lightly on the cheek.</p> + +<p>'Never mind that, little miss,' she said. 'There +is no need for me to know about that. Now sister +and Miss Ingrid must excuse me,' she said soon +after, 'but I must take up her ladyship's coffee. I +shall soon be down again, and you can tell me +more.'</p> + +<p>When she returned, she said she had told her +ladyship about the young girl who had lain in the +grave, and now her mistress wanted to see her.</p> + +<p>They were taken upstairs, and shown into her +ladyship's boudoir.</p> + +<p>Anna Stina remained standing at the door of +the fine room. But Ingrid was not shy; she went +straight up to the old lady and put out her hand. +She had often been shy with others who looked +much less aristocratic; but here, in this house, +she did not feel embarrassed. She only felt so +wonderfully happy that she had come there.</p> + +<p>'So it is you, my child, who have been buried,' +said her ladyship, nodding friendlily to her. 'Do +you mind telling me your story, my child? I sit +here quite alone, and never hear anything, you +know.'</p> + +<p>Then Ingrid began again to tell her story. But +she had not got very far before she was interrupted. +Her ladyship did exactly the same as +Miss Stafva had done. She rose, pushed the +handkerchief back from Ingrid's forehead and +looked into her eyes.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' her ladyship said to herself, 'that I can +understand. I can understand that he must obey +those eyes.'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + +<p>For the first time in her life Ingrid was praised +for her courage. Her ladyship thought she had +been very brave to place herself in the hands of a +crazy fellow.</p> + +<p>She <em>was</em> afraid, she said, but she was still more +afraid of people seeing her in that state. And he +did no harm; he was almost quite right, and then +he was so good.</p> + +<p>Her ladyship wanted to know his name, but +Ingrid did not know it. She had never heard of +any other name but the Goat. Her ladyship asked +several times how he managed when he came to +do business. Had she not laughed at him, and did +she not think that he looked terrible—the Goat? +It sounded so strange when her ladyship said 'the +Goat.' There was so much bitterness in her voice +when she said it, and yet she said it over and over +again.</p> + +<p>No; Ingrid did not think so, and she never +laughed at unfortunate people. The old lady +looked more gentle than her words sounded.</p> + +<p>'It appears you know how to manage mad people, +my child,' she said. 'That is a great gift. +Most people are afraid of such poor creatures.' +She listened to all Ingrid had to say, and sat meditating. +'As you have not any home, my child,' +she said, 'will you not stay here with me? You +see, I am an old woman living here by myself, and +you can keep me company, and I shall take care +that you have everything you want. What do +you say to it, my child? There will come a time, +I suppose,' continued her ladyship, 'when we +shall have to inform your parents that you are still +living; but for the present everything shall remain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +as it is, so that you can have time to rest +both body and mind. And you shall call me +"Aunt"; but what shall I call you?'</p> + +<p>'Ingrid—Ingrid Berg.'</p> + +<p>'Ingrid,' said her ladyship thoughtfully. 'I +would rather have called you something else. As +soon as you entered the room with those star-like +eyes, I thought you ought to be called Mignon.'</p> + +<p>When it dawned upon the young girl that here +she would really find a home, she felt more sure +than ever that she had been brought here in some +supernatural manner, and she whispered her +thanks to her invisible protector before she +thanked her ladyship, Miss Stafva, and Anna +Stina.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Ingrid slept in a four-poster, on luxurious +featherbeds three feet high, and had hem-stitched +sheets, and silken quilts embroidered with Swedish +crowns and French lilies. The bed was so +broad that she could lie as she liked either way, +and so high that she must mount two steps to get +into it. At the top sat a Cupid holding the +brightly-coloured hangings, and on the posts sat +other Cupids, which held them up in festoons.</p> + +<p>In the same room where the bed stood was an +old curved chest of drawers inlaid with olive-wood, +and from it Ingrid might take as much +sweetly-scented linen as she liked. There was +also a wardrobe containing many gay and pretty +silk and muslin gowns that only hung there and +waited until it pleased her to put them on.</p> + +<p>When she awoke in the morning there stood by +her bedside a tray with a silver coffee-set and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +old Indian china. And every morning she +set her small white teeth in fine white bread and +delicious almond-cakes; every day she was +dressed in a fine muslin gown with a lace fichu. +Her hair was dressed high at the back, but round +her forehead there was a row of little light curls.</p> + +<p>On the wall between the windows hung a mirror, +with a narrow glass in a broad frame, where +she could see herself, and nod to her picture, and +ask:</p> + +<p>'Is it you? Is it really you? How have you +come here?'</p> + +<p>In the daytime, when Ingrid had left the chamber +with the four-poster, she sat in the drawing-room +and embroidered or painted on silk, and +when she was tired of that, she played a little on +the guitar and sang, or talked with the old lady, +who taught her French, and amused herself by +training her to be a fine lady.</p> + +<p>But she had come to an enchanted castle—she +could not get away from that idea. She had +had that feeling the first moment, and it was +always coming back again. No one arrived at +the house, no one left it. In this big house only +two or three rooms were kept in order; in the +others no one ever went. No one walked in the +garden, no one looked after it. There was only +one man-servant, and an old man who cut the firewood. +And Miss Stafva had only two servants, +who helped her in the kitchen and in the dairy.</p> + +<p>But there was always dainty food on the +table, and her ladyship and Ingrid were always +waited upon and dressed like fine ladies of rank.</p> + +<p>If nothing thrived on the old estate, there was,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +at any rate, fertile soil for dreams, and even if +they did not nurse and cultivate flowers there, Ingrid +was not the one to neglect her dream-roses. +They grew up around her whenever she was +alone. It seemed to her then as if red dream-roses +formed a canopy over her.</p> + +<p>Round the island where the trees bent low over +the water, and sent long branches in between the +reeds, and where shrubs and lofty trees grew luxuriantly, +was a pathway where Ingrid often +walked. It looked so strange to see so many letters +carved on the trees, to see the old seats and +summer-houses; to see the old tumble-down pavilions, +which were so worm-eaten that she dared +not go into them; to think that real people had +walked here, that here they had lived, and longed, +and loved, and that this had not always been an +enchanted castle.</p> + +<p>Down here she felt even more the witchery of +the place. Here the face with the smile came to +her. Here she could thank him, the student, because +he had brought her to a home where she +was so happy, where they loved her, and made +her forget how hardly others had treated her. +If it had not been he who had arranged all this +for her, she could not possibly have been allowed +to remain here; it was quite impossible.</p> + +<p>She knew that it must be he. She had never +before had such wild fancies. She had always +been thinking of him, but she had never felt that +he was so near her that he took care of her. The +only thing she longed for was that he himself +should come, for of course he would come some +day. It was impossible that he should not come.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +In these avenues he had left behind part of his +soul.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Summer went, and autumn; Christmas was +drawing near.</p> + +<p>'Miss Ingrid,' said the old housekeeper one +day, in a rather mysterious manner, 'I think I +ought to tell you that the young master who owns +Munkhyttan is coming home for Christmas. In +any case, he generally comes,' she added, with a +sigh.</p> + +<p>'And her ladyship, who has never even mentioned +that she has a son,' said Ingrid.</p> + +<p>But she was not really surprised. She might +just as well have answered that she had known +it all along.</p> + +<p>'No one has spoken to you about him, Miss +Ingrid,' said the housekeeper, 'for her ladyship +has forbidden us to speak about him.'</p> + +<p>And then Miss Stafva would not say any +more.</p> + +<p>Neither did Ingrid want to ask any more. Now +she was afraid of hearing something definite. +She had raised her expectations so high that she +was herself afraid they would fail. The truth +might be well worth hearing, but it might also +be bitter, and destroy all her beautiful dreams. +But from that day he was with her night and day. +She had hardly time to speak to others. She +must always be with him.</p> + +<p>One day she saw that they had cleared the +snow away from the avenue. She grew almost +frightened. Was he coming now?</p> + +<p>The next day her ladyship sat from early morn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>ing +in the window looking down the avenue. Ingrid +had gone further into the room. She was +so restless that she could not remain at the window.</p> + +<p>'Do you know whom I am expecting to-day, +Ingrid?'</p> + +<p>The young girl nodded; she dared not depend +upon her voice to answer.</p> + +<p>'Has Miss Stafva told you that my son is peculiar?'</p> + +<p>Ingrid shook her head.</p> + +<p>'He is very peculiar—he—I cannot speak +about it. I cannot—you must see for yourself.'</p> + +<p>It sounded heartrending. Ingrid grew very +uneasy. What was there with this house that +made everything so strange? Was it something +terrible that she did not know about? Was her +ladyship not on good terms with her son? What +was it, what was it?</p> + +<p>The one moment in an ecstasy of joy, the next +in a fever of uncertainty, she was obliged to call +forth the long row of visions in order again to +feel that it must be he who came. She could not +at all say why she so firmly believed that he must +be the son just of this house. He might, for the +matter of that, be quite another person. Oh, +how hard it was that she had never heard his +name!</p> + +<p>It was a long day. They sat waiting in silence +until evening came.</p> + +<p>The man came driving a cartload of Christmas +logs, and the horse remained in the yard +whilst the wood was unloaded.</p> + +<p>'Ingrid,' said her ladyship in a commanding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +and hasty tone, 'run down to Anders and tell him +that he must be quick and get the horse into the +stable. Quick—quick!'</p> + +<p>Ingrid ran down the stairs and on to the veranda; +but when she came out she forgot to call +to the man. Just behind the cart she saw a tall +man in a sheepskin coat, and with a large pack +on his back. It was not necessary for her to see +him standing curtsying and curtsying to recognise +him. But, but——She put her hand to her +head and drew a deep breath. How would all +these things ever become clear to her? Was it +for that fellow's sake her ladyship had sent her +down? And the man, why did he pull the horse +away in such great haste? And why did he take +off his cap and salute? What had that crazy man +to do with the people of this house?</p> + +<p>All at once the truth flashed upon Ingrid so +crushingly and overwhelmingly that she could +have screamed. It was not her beloved who had +watched over her; it was this crazy man. She +had been allowed to remain here because she had +spoken kindly of him, because his mother wanted +to carry on the good work which he had commenced.</p> + +<p>The Goat—that was the young master.</p> + +<p>But to her no one came. No one had brought +her here; no one had expected her. It was all +dreams, fancies, illusions! Oh, how hard it was! +If she had only never expected him!</p> + +<p>But at night, when Ingrid lay in the big bed +with the brightly-coloured hangings, she dreamt +over and over again that she saw the student +come home. 'It was not you who came,' she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +said. 'Yes, of course it was I,' he replied. And +in her dreams she believed him.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>One day, the week after Christmas, Ingrid sat +at the window in the boudoir embroidering. Her +ladyship sat on the sofa knitting, as she always +did now. There was silence in the room.</p> + +<p>Young Hede had been at home for a week. +During all that time Ingrid had never seen him. +In his home, too, he lived like a peasant, slept in +the men-servants' quarters, and had his meals in +the kitchen. He never went to see his mother.</p> + +<p>Ingrid knew that both her ladyship and Miss +Stafva expected that she should do something +for Hede, that at the least she would try and persuade +him to remain at home. And it grieved her +that it was impossible for her to do what they +wished. She was in despair about herself and +about the utter weakness that had come over her +since her expectations had been so shattered.</p> + +<p>To-day Miss Stafva had just come in to say +that Hede was getting his pack ready to start. +He was not even staying as long as he generally +did at Christmas, she said with a reproachful look +at Ingrid.</p> + +<p>Ingrid understood all they had expected from +her, but she could do nothing. She sewed and +sewed without saying anything.</p> + +<p>Miss Stafva went away, and there was again +silence in the room. Ingrid quite forgot that she +was not alone; a feeling of drowsiness suddenly +came over her, whilst all her sad thoughts wove +themselves into a strange fancy.</p> + +<p>She thought she was walking up and down the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +whole of the large house. She went through a +number of rooms and salons; she saw them before +her with gray covers over the furniture. The +paintings and the chandeliers were covered with +gauze, and on the floors was a layer of thick dust, +which whirled about when she went through the +rooms. But at last she came to a room where she +had never been before; it was quite a small chamber, +where both walls and ceiling were black. +But when she came to look more closely at them, +she saw that the chamber was neither painted +black, nor covered with black material, but it was +so dark on account of the walls and the ceiling being +completely covered with bats. The whole room +was nothing but a huge nest for bats. In one of +the windows a pane was broken, so one could +understand how the bats had got in in such incredible +numbers that they covered the whole +room. They hung there in their undisturbed +winter sleep; not one moved when she entered. +But she was seized by such terror at this sight +that she began to shiver and shake all over. It +was dreadful to see the quantity of bats she so distinctly +saw hanging there. They all had black +wings wrapped around them like cloaks; they all +hung from the walls by a single long claw in undisturbable +sleep. She saw it all so distinctly that +she wondered if Miss Stafva knew that the bats +had taken possession of a whole room. In her +thoughts she then went to Miss Stafva and asked +her whether she had been into that room and seen +all the bats.</p> + +<p>'Of course I have seen them,' said Miss Stafva. +'It is their own room. I suppose you know, Miss<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +Ingrid, that there is not a single old country +house in all Sweden where they have not to give +up a room to the bats?'</p> + +<p>'I have never heard that before,' Ingrid said.</p> + +<p>'When you have lived as long in the world as I +have, Miss Ingrid, you will find out that I am +speaking the truth,' said Miss Stafva.</p> + +<p>'I cannot understand that people will put up +with such a thing,' Ingrid said.</p> + +<p>'We are obliged to,' said Miss Stafva. 'Those +bats are Mistress Sorrow's birds, and she has +commanded us to receive them.'</p> + +<p>Ingrid saw that Miss Stafva did not wish to +say anything more about that matter, and she began +to sew again; but she could not help speculating +over who that Mistress Sorrow could be +who had so much power here that she could compel +Miss Stafva to give up a whole room to the +bats.</p> + +<p>Just as she was thinking about all this, she saw +a black sledge, drawn by black horses, pull up +outside the veranda. She saw Miss Stafva come +out and make a low curtsy. An old lady in a +long black velvet cloak, with many small capes +on the shoulders, alighted from the sledge. She +was bent, and had difficulty in walking. She +could hardly lift her feet sufficiently to walk up +the steps.</p> + +<p>'Ingrid,' said her ladyship, looking up from +her knitting, 'I think I heard Mistress Sorrow +arrive. It must have been her jingle I heard. +Have you noticed that she never has sledge-bells +on her horses, but only quite a small jingle? But +one can hear it—one can hear it! Go down into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +the hall, Ingrid, and bid Mistress Sorrow welcome.'</p> + +<p>When Ingrid came down into the front hall, +Mistress Sorrow stood talking with Miss Stafva +on the veranda. They did not notice her.</p> + +<p>Ingrid saw with surprise that the round-backed +old lady had something hidden under all her +capes which looked like crape; it was put well +up and carefully hidden. Ingrid had to look very +closely before she discovered that they were two +large bat's wings which she tried to hide. The +young girl grew still more curious and tried to +see her face, but she stood and looked into the +yard, so it was impossible. So much, however, +Ingrid did see when she put out her hand to the +housekeeper—that one of her fingers was much +longer than the others, and at the end of it was a +large, crooked claw.</p> + +<p>'I suppose everything is as usual here?' she +said.</p> + +<p>'Yes, honoured Mistress Sorrow,' said Miss +Stafva.</p> + +<p>'You have not planted any flowers, nor pruned +any trees? You have not mended the bridge, +nor weeded the avenue?'</p> + +<p>'No, honoured mistress.'</p> + +<p>'This is quite as it should be,' said the honoured +mistress. 'I suppose you have not had the +audacity to search for the vein of ore, or to cut +down the forest which is encroaching on the +fields?'</p> + +<p>'No, honoured mistress.'</p> + +<p>'Or to clean the wells?'</p> + +<p>'No, nor to clean the wells.'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<p>'This is a nice place,' said Mistress Sorrow; +'I always like being here. In a few years things +will be in such a state that my birds can live all +over the house. You are really very good to my +birds, Miss Stafva.'</p> + +<p>At this praise the housekeeper made a deep +curtsy.</p> + +<p>'How are things otherwise at the house?' said +Mistress Sorrow. 'What sort of a Christmas +have you had?'</p> + +<p>'We have kept Christmas as we always do,' +said Miss Stafva. 'Her ladyship sits knitting in +her room day after day, thinks of nothing but her +son, and does not even know that it is a festival. +Christmas Eve we allowed to pass like any other +day—no presents and no candles.'</p> + +<p>'No Christmas tree, no Christmas fare?'</p> + +<p>'Nor any going to church; not so much as a +candle in the windows on Christmas morning.'</p> + +<p>'Why should her ladyship honour God's Son +when God will not heal her son?' said Mistress +Sorrow.</p> + +<p>'No, why should she?'</p> + +<p>'He is at home at present, I suppose? Perhaps +he is better now?'</p> + +<p>'No, he is no better. He is as much afraid +of things as ever.'</p> + +<p>'Does he still behave like a peasant? Does +he never go into the rooms?'</p> + +<p>'We cannot get him to go into the rooms; +he is afraid of her ladyship, as the honoured mistress +knows.'</p> + +<p>'He has his meals in the kitchen, and sleeps +in the men-servants' room?'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Yes, he does.'</p> + +<p>'And you have no idea how to cure him?'</p> + +<p>'We know nothing, we understand nothing.'</p> + +<p>Mistress Sorrow was silent for a moment; +when she spoke again there was a hard, sharp +ring in her voice:</p> + +<p>'This is all right as far as it goes, Miss Stafva; +but I am not quite satisfied with you, all the +same.'</p> + +<p>The same moment she turned round and +looked sharply at Ingrid.</p> + +<p>Ingrid shuddered. Mistress Sorrow had a little, +wrinkled face, the under part of which was +so doubled up that one could hardly see the +lower jaw. She had teeth like a saw, and thick +hair on the upper lip. Her eyebrows were one +single tuft of hair, and her skin was quite +brown.</p> + +<p>Ingrid thought Miss Stafva could not see what +she saw: Mistress Sorrow was not a human +being; she was only an animal.</p> + +<p>Mistress Sorrow opened her mouth and +showed her glittering teeth when she looked at +Ingrid.</p> + +<p>'When this girl came here,' she said to Miss +Stafva, 'you thought she had been sent by God. +You thought you could see from her eyes that +she had been sent by Our Lord to save him. +She knew how to manage mad people. Well, +how has it worked?'</p> + +<p>'It has not worked at all. She has not done +anything.'</p> + +<p>'No, I have seen to that,' said Mistress Sorrow. +'It was my doing that you did not tell her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +why she was allowed to stay here. Had she +known that, she would not have indulged in +such rosy dreams about seeing her beloved. If +she had not had such expectations, she would +not have had such a bitter disappointment. Had +disappointment not paralyzed her, she could perhaps +have done something for this mad fellow. +But now she has not even been to see him. She +hates him because he is not the one she expected +him to be. That is my doing, Miss Stafva, my +doing.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; the honoured mistress knows her business,' +said Miss Stafva.</p> + +<p>Mistress Sorrow took her lace handkerchief +and dried her red-rimmed eyes. It looked as if +it were meant for an expression of joy.</p> + +<p>'You need not make yourself out to be any +better than you are, Miss Stafva,' she said. 'I +know you do not like my having taken that room +for my birds. You do not like the thought of +my having the whole house soon. I know that. +You and your mistress had intended to cheat +me. But it is all over now.'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' said Miss Stafva, 'the honoured mistress +can be quite easy. It is all over. The +young master is leaving to-day. He has packed +up his pack, and then we always know he is +about to leave. Everything her ladyship and I +have been dreaming about the whole autumn is +over. Nothing has been done. We thought she +might at least have persuaded him to remain at +home, but in spite of all we have done for her, +she has not done anything for us.'</p> + +<p>'No, she has only been a poor help, I know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +that,' said Mistress Sorrow. 'But, all the same, +she must be sent away now. That was really +what I wanted to see her ladyship about.'</p> + +<p>Mistress Sorrow began to drag herself up the +steps on her tottering legs. At every step she +raised her wings a little, as if they should help +her. She would, no doubt, much rather have +flown.</p> + +<p>Ingrid went behind her. She felt strangely +attracted and fascinated. If Mistress Sorrow +had been the most beautiful woman in the world, +she could not have felt a greater inclination to +follow her.</p> + +<p>When she went into the boudoir she saw Mistress +Sorrow sitting on the sofa by the side of +her ladyship, whispering confidentially with her, +as if they were old friends.</p> + +<p>'You must be able to see that you cannot +keep her with you,' said Mistress Sorrow impressively. +'You, who cannot bear to see a +flower growing in your garden, can surely not +stand having a young girl about in the house. +It always brings a certain amount of brightness +and life, and that would not suit you.'</p> + +<p>'No; that is just what I have been sitting and +thinking about.'</p> + +<p>'Get her a situation as lady's companion +somewhere or other, but don't keep her here.'</p> + +<p>She rose to say good-bye.</p> + +<p>'That was all I wanted to see you about,' she +said. 'But how are you yourself?'</p> + +<p>'Knives and scissors cut my heart all day +long,' said her ladyship. 'I only live in him as +long as he is at home. It is worse than usual,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +much worse this time. I cannot bear it much +longer.'. . .</p> + +<p>Ingrid started; it was her ladyship's bell that +rang. She had been dreaming so vividly that +she was quite surprised to see that her ladyship +was alone, and that the black sledge was not +waiting before the door.</p> + +<p>Her ladyship had rung for Miss Stafva, but +she did not come. She asked Ingrid to go down +to her room and call her.</p> + +<p>Ingrid went, but the little blue-checked room +was empty. The young girl was going into the +kitchen to ask for the housekeeper, but before +she had time to open the door she heard Hede +talking. She stopped outside; she could not +persuade herself to go in and see him.</p> + +<p>She tried, however, to argue with herself. It +was not his fault that he was not the one she had +been expecting. She must try to do something +for him; she must persuade him to remain at +home. Before, she had not had such a feeling +against him. He was not so very bad.</p> + +<p>She bent down and peeped through the keyhole. +It was the same here as at other places. +The servants tried to lead him on in order to +amuse themselves by his strange talk. They +asked him whom he was going to marry. Hede +smiled; he liked to be asked about that kind of +thing.</p> + +<p>'She is called Grave-Lily—don't you know +that?' he said.</p> + +<p>The servant said she did not know that she +had such a fine name.</p> + +<p>'But where does she live?'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Neither has she home nor has she farm,' +Hede said. 'She lives in my pack.'</p> + +<p>The servant said that was a queer home, and +asked about her parents.</p> + +<p>'Neither has she father nor has she mother,' +Hede said. 'She is as fine as a flower; she has +grown up in a garden.'</p> + +<p>He said all this with a certain amount of clearness, +but when he wanted to describe how beautiful +his sweetheart was he could not get on at +all. He said a number of words, but they were +strangely mixed together. One could not follow +his thoughts, but evidently he himself derived +much pleasure from what he said. He sat +smiling and happy.</p> + +<p>Ingrid hurried away. She could not bear it +any longer. She could not do anything for him. +She was afraid of him. She disliked him. But +she had not got further than the stairs before +her conscience pricked her. Here she had received +so much kindness, and she would not +make any return.</p> + +<p>In order to master her dislike she tried in her +own mind to think of Hede as a gentleman. She +wondered how he had looked when he wore good +clothes, and had his hair brushed back. She +closed her eyes for a moment and thought. No, +it was impossible, she could not imagine him as +being any different from what he was. The +same moment she saw the outlines of a beloved +face by her side. It appeared at her left side +wonderfully distinct. This time the face did not +smile. The lips trembled as if in pain, and unspeakable +suffering was written in sharp lines +round the mouth.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ingrid stopped half-way up the stairs and +looked at it. There it was, light and fleeting, as +impossible to grasp and hold fast as a sun-spot +reflected by the prism of a chandelier, but just +as visible, just as real. She thought of her recent +dream, but this was different—this was reality.</p> + +<p>When she had looked a little at the face, the +lips began to move; they spoke, but she could +not hear a sound. Then she tried to see what +they said, tried to read the words from the lips, +as deaf people do, and she succeeded.</p> + +<p>'Do not let me go,' the lips said; 'do not let +me go.'</p> + +<p>And the anguish with which it was said! If a +fellow-creature had been lying at her feet begging +for life, it could not have affected her more. +She was so overcome that she shook. It was +more heart-rending than anything she had ever +heard in her whole life. Never had she thought +that anyone could beg in such fearful anguish. +Again and again the lips begged, 'Do not let +me go!' And for every time the anguish was +greater.</p> + +<p>Ingrid did not understand it, but remained +standing, filled with unspeakable pity. It seemed +to her that more than life itself must be at stake +for one who begged like this, that his very soul +must be at stake.</p> + +<p>The lips did not move any more; they stood +half open in dull despair. When they assumed +this expression she uttered a cry and stumbled. +She recognised the face of the crazy fellow as +she had just seen it.</p> + +<p>'No, no, no!' she said. 'It cannot be so! It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +must not! it cannot! It is not possible that it +is he!'</p> + +<p>The same moment the face vanished. She +must have sat for a whole hour on the cold staircase, +crying in helpless despair. But at last hope +sprang up in her, strong and fair. She again +took courage to raise her head. All that had +happened seemed to show that she should save +him. It was for that she had come here. She +should have the great, great happiness of saving +him.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>In the little boudoir her ladyship was talking +to Miss Stafva. It sounded so pitiful to hear her +asking the housekeeper to persuade her son to +remain a few days longer. Miss Stafva tried to +appear hard and severe.</p> + +<p>'Of course, I can ask him,' she said; 'but +your ladyship knows that no one can make him +stay longer than he wants.'</p> + +<p>'We have money enough, you know. There +is not the slightest necessity for him to go. Can +you not tell him that?' said her ladyship.</p> + +<p>At the same moment Ingrid came in. The +door opened noiselessly. She glided through +the room with light, airy steps; her eyes were radiant, +as if she beheld something beautiful afar off.</p> + +<p>When her ladyship saw her she frowned a +little. She also felt an inclination to be cruel, to +give pain.</p> + +<p>'Ingrid,' she said, 'come here; I must speak +with you about your future.'</p> + +<p>The young girl had fetched her guitar and +was about to leave the room. She turned round +to her ladyship.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<p>'My future?' she said, putting her hand to her +forehead. 'My future is already decided, you +know,' she continued, with the smile of a martyr; +and without saying any more she left the room.</p> + +<p>Her ladyship and Stafva looked in surprise at +each other. They began to discuss where they +should send the young girl. But when Miss +Stafva came down to her room she found Ingrid +sitting there, singing some little songs and playing +on the guitar, and Hede sat opposite her, +listening, his face all sunshine.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Ever since Ingrid had recognised the student +in the poor crazy fellow, she had no other +thought but that of trying to cure him; but this +was a difficult task, and she had no idea whatever +as to how she should set about it. To begin +with, she only thought of how she could persuade +him to remain at Munkhyttan; and this +was easy enough. Only for the sake of hearing +her play the violin or the guitar a little every day +he would now sit patiently from morning till +evening in Miss Stafva's room waiting for her.</p> + +<p>She thought it would be a great thing if she +could get him to go into the other rooms, but +that she could not. She tried keeping in her +room, and said she would not play any more for +him if he did not come to her. But after she +had remained there two days, he began to pack +up his pack to go away, and then she was obliged +to give in.</p> + +<p>He showed great preference for her, and distinctly +showed that he liked her better than +others; but she did not make him less frightened. +She begged him to leave off his sheep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>skin +coat, and wear an ordinary coat. He consented +at once, but the next day he had it on +again. Then she hid it from him; but he then +appeared in the man-servant's skin coat. So +then they would rather let him keep his own. +He was still as frightened as ever, and took great +care no one came too near him. Even Ingrid +was not allowed to sit quite close to him.</p> + +<p>One day she said to him that now he must +promise her something: he must give over curtsying +to the cat. She would not ask him to do +anything so difficult as give up curtsying to +horses and dogs, but surely he could not be +afraid of a little cat.</p> + +<p>Yes, he said; the cat was a goat.</p> + +<p>'It can't be a goat,' she said; 'it has no horns, +you know.'</p> + +<p>He was pleased to hear that. It seemed as if +at last he had found something by which he could +distinguish a goat from other animals.</p> + +<p>The next day he met Miss Stafva's cat.</p> + +<p>'That goat has no horns,' he said; and laughed +quite proudly.</p> + +<p>He went past it, and sat down on the sofa to +listen to Ingrid playing. But after he had sat a +little while he grew restless, and he rose, went +up to the cat, and curtsied.</p> + +<p>Ingrid was in despair. She took him by his +arm and shook him. He ran straight out of the +room, and did not appear until the next day.</p> + +<p>'Child, child,' said her ladyship, 'you do exactly +as I did; you try the same as I did. It will +end by your frightening him so that he dare not +see you any more. It is better to leave him in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +peace. We are satisfied with things as they are +if he will only remain at home.'</p> + +<p>There was nothing else for Ingrid to do but +wring her hands in sorrow that such a fine, +lovable fellow should be concealed in this crazy +man.</p> + +<p>Ingrid thought again and again, had she +really only come here to play her grandfather's +tunes to him? Should they go on like that all +through life? Would it never be otherwise?</p> + +<p>She also told him many stories, and in the +midst of a story his face would lighten up, and +he would say something wonderfully subtle and +beautiful. A sane person would never have +thought of anything like it. And no more was +needed to make her courage rise, and then she +began again with these endless experiments.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>It was late one afternoon, and the moon was +just about to rise. White snow lay on the +ground, and bright gray ice covered the lake. +The trees were blackish-brown, and the sky was +a flaming red after the sunset.</p> + +<p>Ingrid was on her way to the lake to skate. +She went along a narrow path where the snow +was quite trodden down. Gunnar Hede went +behind her. There was something cowed in his +bearing that made one think of a dog following +its master.</p> + +<p>Ingrid looked tired; there was no brightness +in her eyes, and her complexion was gray.</p> + +<p>As she walked along she wondered whether +the day, which was now so nearly over, was +content with itself—if it were from joy it had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +lighted the great flaming red sunset far away in +the west.</p> + +<p>She knew she could light no bonfire over this +day, nor over any other day. In the whole +month that had passed since she recognised Gunnar +Hede she had gained nothing.</p> + +<p>And to-day a great fear had come upon her. +It seemed to her as if she might perhaps lose +her love over all this. She was nearly forgetting +the student, only for thinking of the poor fellow. +All that was bright and beautiful and youthful +vanished from her love. Nothing was left but +dull, heavy earnest.</p> + +<p>She was quite in despair as she walked towards +the lake. She felt she did not know what ought +to be done—felt that she must give it all up. +Oh, God, to have him walking behind her apparently +strong and hale, and yet so helplessly, +incurably sick!</p> + +<p>They had reached the lake, and she was putting +on her skates. She also wanted him to +skate, and helped him to put on his skates; but +he fell as soon as he got on to the ice. He +scrambled to the bank and sat down on a stone, +and she skated away from him.</p> + +<p>Just opposite the stone upon which Gunnar +Hede was sitting was an islet overgrown with +birches and poplars, and behind it the radiant +evening sky, which was still flaming red. And +the fine, light, leafless tops of the trees stood +against the glorious sky with such beauty that it +was impossible not to notice it.</p> + +<p>Is it not a fact that one always recognises a +place by a single feature? One does not exactly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +know how even the most familiar spot looks from +all sides. And Munkhyttan one always knew +by the little islet. If one had not seen the place +for many years, one would know it again by this +islet, where the dark tree-tops were lifted towards +the sunset.</p> + +<p>Hede sat quite still, and looked at the islet and +at the branches of the trees and at the gray ice +which surrounded it.</p> + +<p>This was the view he knew best of all; there +was nothing on the whole estate he knew so well, +for it was always this islet that attracted the eye. +And soon he was sitting looking at the islet +without thinking about it, just as one does with +things one knows so well. He sat for a long +time gazing. Nothing disturbed him, not a +human being, not a gust of wind, no strange object. +He could not see Ingrid; she had skated +far away on the ice.</p> + +<p>A rest and peace fell upon Gunnar Hede such +as one only feels in home surroundings. Security +and peace came to him from the little islet; it +quieted the everlasting unrest that <span class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: Original has tormened">tormented</span> +him.</p> + +<p>Hede always imagined he was amongst +enemies, and always thought of defending himself. +For many years he had not felt that peace +which made it possible for him to forget himself. +But now it came upon him.</p> + +<p>Whilst Gunnar Hede was sitting thus and not +thinking of anything, he happened mechanically +to make a movement as one may do when one +finds one's self in accustomed circumstances. As +he sat there with the shining ice before him and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +with skates on his feet, he got up and skated on +to the lake, and he thought as little of what he +was doing as one thinks of how one is holding +fork or spoon when eating.</p> + +<p>He glided over the ice; it was glorious skating. +He was a long way off the shore before he realized +what he was doing.</p> + +<p>'Splendid ice!' he thought. 'I wonder why I +did not come down earlier in the day. It is a +good thing I was more here yesterday,' he said. +'I will really not waste a single day during the +rest of my vacation.'</p> + +<p>No doubt it was because Gunnar Hede happened +to do something he was in the habit of +doing before he was ill that his old self awakened +within him.</p> + +<p>Thoughts and associations connected with his +former life began to force themselves upon his +consciousness, and at the same time all the +thoughts connected with his illness sank into oblivion.</p> + +<p>It had been his habit when skating to take a +wide turn on the lake in order to see beyond a +certain point. He did so now without thinking, +but when he had turned the point he knew he +had skated there to see if there was a light in +his mother's window.</p> + +<p>'She thinks it is time I was coming home, but +she must wait a little; the ice is too good.'</p> + +<p>But it was mostly vague sensations of pleasure +over the exercise and the beautiful evening that +were awakened within him. A moonlight evening +like this was just the time for skating; he +was so fond of this peaceful transition from day<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +to night. It was still light, but the stillness of +night was already there, the best both of day and +of night.</p> + +<p>There was another skater on the ice; it was a +young girl. He was not sure if he knew her, but +he skated towards her to find out. No; it was +no one he knew, but he could not help making a +remark when he passed her about the splendid +ice.</p> + +<p>The stranger was probably a young girl from +the town. She was evidently not accustomed to +be addressed in this unceremonious manner; she +looked quite frightened when he spoke to her. +He certainly was queerly dressed; he was +dressed quite like a peasant.</p> + +<p>Well, he did not want to frighten her away. +He turned off and skated further up the lake; the +ice was big enough for them both.</p> + +<p>But Ingrid had nearly screamed with astonishment. +He had come towards her skating elegantly, +with his arms crossed, the brim of his +hat turned up, and his hair thrown back, so that +it did not fall over his ears.</p> + +<p>He had spoken with the voice of a gentleman, +almost without the slightest Dalar accent. She +did not stop to think about it. She skated quickly +towards the shore. She came breathless into the +kitchen. She did not know how to say it shortly +and quickly enough.</p> + +<p>'Miss Stafva, the young master has come +home!'</p> + +<p>The kitchen was empty; neither the housekeeper +nor the servants were there. Nor was +there anybody in the housekeeper's room. In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>grid +rushed through the whole house, went into +rooms where no one ever went. The whole +time she cried out, 'Miss Stafva, Miss Stafva! +the young master has come home!'</p> + +<p>She was quite beside herself, and went on calling +out, even when she stood on the landing upstairs, +surrounded by the servants, Miss Stafva, +and her ladyship herself. She said it over and +over again. She was too much excited to stop. +They all understood what she meant. They +stood there quite as much overcome as she was.</p> + +<p>Ingrid turned restlessly from the one to the +other. She ought to give explanations and +orders, but about what? That she could so lose +her presence of mind! She looked wildly questioning +at her ladyship.</p> + +<p>'What was it I wanted?'</p> + +<p>The old lady gave some orders in a low, +trembling voice. She almost whispered.</p> + +<p>'Light the candles and make a fire in the +young master's room. Lay out the young master's +clothes.'</p> + +<p>It was neither the place nor the time for Miss +Stafva to be important. But there was all the +same a certain superior ring in her voice as she +answered:</p> + +<p>'There is always a fire in the young master's +room. The young master's clothes are always in +readiness for him.'</p> + +<p>'Ingrid had better go up to her room,' said her +ladyship.</p> + +<p>The young girl did just the opposite. She +went into the drawing-room, placed herself at +the window, sobbed and shook, but did not her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>self +know that she was not still. She impatiently +dried the tears from her eyes, so that she could +see over the snowfield in front of the house. If +only she did not cry, there was nothing she could +miss seeing in the clear moonlight. At last he +came.</p> + +<p>'There he is! there he is!' she cried to her +ladyship. 'He walks quickly! he runs! Do +come and see!'</p> + +<p>Her ladyship sat quite still before the fire. She +did not move. She strained her ears to hear, +just as much as the other strained her eyes to +see. She asked Ingrid to be quiet, so that she +could hear how he walked. Ah, yes, she would +be quiet. Her ladyship should hear how he +walked. She grasped the window-sill, as if that +could help her.</p> + +<p>'You <em>shall</em> be quiet,' she whispered, 'so that +her ladyship can hear how he walks.'</p> + +<p>Her ladyship sat bending forward, listening +with all her soul. Did she already hear his steps +in the court-yard? She probably thought he +would go towards the kitchen. Did she hear +that it was the front steps that creaked? Did +she hear that it was the door to the front hall that +opened? Did she hear how quickly he came up +the stairs, two or three steps at a time? Had his +mother heard that? It was not the dragging step +of a peasant, as it had been when he left the +house.</p> + +<p>It was almost more than they could bear, to +hear him coming towards the door of the drawing-room. +Had he come in then, they would no +doubt both have screamed. But he turned down +the corridor to his own rooms.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<p>Her ladyship fell back in her chair, and her +eyes closed. Ingrid thought her ladyship would +have liked to die at that moment. Without opening +her eyes, she put out her hand. Ingrid went +softly up and took it; the old lady drew her +towards her.</p> + +<p>'Mignon, Mignon,' she said; 'that was the +right name after all. But,' she continued, 'we +must not cry. We must not speak about it. Take +a stool and come and sit down by the fire. We +must be calm, my little friend. Let us speak +about something else. We must be perfectly calm +when he comes in.'</p> + +<p>Half an hour afterwards Hede came in; the +tea was on the table, and the chandelier was +lighted. He had dressed; every trace of the +peasant had disappeared. Ingrid and her ladyship +pressed each other's hands.</p> + +<p>They had been sitting trying to imagine how +he would look when he came in. It was impossible +to say what he might say or do, said her +ladyship. One never had known what he might +do. But in any case they would both be quite +calm. A feeling of great happiness had come +over her, and that had quieted her. She was +resting, free from all sorrow, in the arms of +angels carrying her upwards, upwards.</p> + +<p>But when Hede came in, there was no sign of +confusion about him.</p> + +<p>'I have only come to tell you,' he said, 'that I +have got such a headache, that I shall have to go +to bed at once. I felt it already when I was on +the ice.'</p> + +<p>Her ladyship made no reply. Everything was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +so simple; she had never thought it would be +like that. It took her a few moments to realize +that he did not know anything about his illness, +that he was living somewhere in the past.</p> + +<p>'But perhaps I can first drink a cup of tea,' +he said, looking a little surprised at their silence.</p> + +<p>Her ladyship went to the tea-tray. He looked +at her.</p> + +<p>'Have you been crying, mother? You are so +quiet.'</p> + +<p>'We have been sitting talking about a sad +story, I and my young friend here,' said her +ladyship, pointing to Ingrid.</p> + +<p>'I beg your pardon,' he said. 'I did not see +you had visitors.'</p> + +<p>The young girl came forward towards the +light, beautiful as one would be who knew that +the gates of heaven the next moment would open +before her.</p> + +<p>He bowed a little stiffly. He evidently did not +know who she was. Her ladyship introduced +them to each other. He looked curiously at Ingrid.</p> + +<p>'I think I saw Miss Berg on the ice,' he said.</p> + +<p>He knew nothing about her—had never +spoken to her before.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>A short, happy time followed. Gunnar Hede +was certainly not quite himself; but those around +him were happy in the belief that he soon would +be. His memory was partly gone. He knew +nothing about certain periods of his life; he +could not play the violin; he had almost forgotten +all he knew; and his power of thinking was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +weak; and he preferred neither to read nor to +write. But still he was very much better. He +was not frightened; he was fond of his mother; +he had again assumed the manners and habits +of a gentleman. One can easily understand that +her ladyship and all her household were delighted.</p> + +<p>Hede was in the best of spirits—bright and +joyous all day long. He never speculated over +anything, put to one side everything he could +not understand, never spoke about anything that +necessitated mental exertion, but talked merrily +and cheerfully. He was most happy when he +was engaged in bodily exercise. He took Ingrid +out with him sledging and skating. He did not +talk much to her, but she was happy to be with +him. He was kind to Ingrid, as he was to everyone +else, but not in the least in love with her. +He often wondered about his <em><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">fiancée</span></em>—wondered +why she never wrote. But after a short time +that trouble, too, left him. He always put away +from him anything that worried him.</p> + +<p>Ingrid thought that he would never get really +well by doing like this. He must some time be +made to think—to face his own thoughts, which +he was afraid of doing now. But she dared not +compel him to do this, and there was no one else +who dared. If he began to care for her a little, +perhaps she might dare. She thought all they +now wanted, every one of them, was a little happiness.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>It was just at that time that a little child died +at the Parsonage at Raglanda where Ingrid had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +been brought up; and the grave-digger was +about to dig the grave.</p> + +<p>The man dug the grave quite close to the spot +where the previous summer he had dug the +grave for Ingrid. And when he had got a few +feet into the ground he happened to lay bare a +corner of her coffin. The grave-digger could not +help smiling a little to himself. Of course he had +heard that the dead girl lying in this coffin had +appeared. She was supposed to have unscrewed +her coffin-lid on the very day of her funeral, risen +from the grave, and appeared at the Parsonage. +The Pastor's wife was not so much liked but that +people in the parish rather enjoyed telling this +story about her. The grave-digger thought that +people should only know how securely the dead +were lying in the ground, and how fast the coffin-lids. . . .</p> + +<p>He interrupted himself in the midst of this +thought. On the corner of the coffin which was +exposed the lid was not quite straight, and one +of the screws was not quite fast. He did not +say anything, he did not think anything, but +stopped digging and whistled the whole reveille +of the Vermland Regiment—for he was an old +soldier. Then he thought he had better examine +the thing properly. It would never do for a +grave-digger to have thoughts about the dead +which might come and trouble him during the +dark autumn nights. He hastily removed some +more earth. Then he began to hammer on the +coffin with his shovel. The coffin answered quite +distinctly that it was empty—empty.</p> + +<p>Half an hour after the grave-digger was at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +Parsonage. There was no end to the questionings +and surmises. So much they were all +agreed upon—that the young girl had been in +the Dalar man's pack. But what had become of +her afterwards?</p> + +<p>Anna Stina stood at the oven in the Parsonage +and looked after the baking, for of course there +was baking to be done for the new funeral. She +stood for a long time listening to all this talk +without saying a word. All she took care of +was that the cakes were not burnt. She put +sheet-tins in and took sheet-tins out, and it was +dangerous to approach her as she stood there +with the long baker's shovel. But suddenly she +took off her kitchen-apron, wiped the worst of +the sweat and the soot from her face, and was +talking with the Pastor in his study almost before +she knew how it had come about.</p> + +<p>After this it was not so very wonderful that one +day in March the Pastor's little red-painted +sledge, ornamented with green tulips, and drawn +by the Pastor's little red horse, pulled up at +Munkhyttan. Ingrid was of course obliged to +go back with the Pastor home to her mother. The +Pastor had come to fetch her. He did not say +much about their being glad that she was alive, +but one could see how happy he was. He had +never been able to forgive himself that they had +not been more kind to their adopted daughter. +And now he was radiant at the thought that he +was allowed to make a new beginning and make +everything good for her this time.</p> + +<p>They did not speak a word about the reason +why she had run away. It was of no use bring<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>ing +that up again so long after. But Ingrid understood +that the Pastor's wife had had a hard +time, and had suffered many pangs of conscience, +and that they wanted to have her back again in +order to be good to her. She felt that she was +almost obliged to go back to the Parsonage to +show that she had no ill-feeling against her +adopted parents.</p> + +<p>They all thought it was the most natural thing +that she should go to the Parsonage for a week +or two. And why should she not? She could +not make the excuse that they needed her at +Munkhyttan. She could surely be away for +some weeks without it doing Gunnar Hede any +harm. She felt it was hard, but it was best she +should go away, as they all thought it was the +right thing.</p> + +<p>Perhaps she had hoped they would ask her not +to go away. She took her seat in the sledge +with the feeling that her ladyship or Miss Stafva +would surely come and lift her out of it, and carry +her into the house again. It was impossible to +realize that she was actually driving down the +avenue, that she was turning into the forest, and +that Munkhyttan was disappearing behind her.</p> + +<p>But supposing it was from pure goodness that +they let her go? They thought, perhaps, that +youth, with its craving for pleasure, wanted to +get away from the loneliness of Munkhyttan. +They thought, perhaps, she was tired of being +the keeper of a crazy man. She raised her hand, +and was on the point of seizing the reins and +turning the horse. Now that she was several +miles from the house it struck her that that was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +why they had let her go. She would have liked +so much to have gone back and asked them.</p> + +<p>In her utter loneliness she felt as if she were +groping about in the wild forest. There was not +a single human being who answered her or advised +her. She received just as much answer +from fir and pine, and squirrel and owl, as she +did from any human being.</p> + +<p>It was really a matter of utter indifference to +her how they treated her at the Parsonage. They +were very kind to her, as far as she knew, but +it really did not matter. If she had come to a +palace full of everything one could most desire, +that would likewise have been the same to her. +No bed is soft enough to give rest unto one +whose heart is full of longing.</p> + +<p>In the beginning she had asked them every +day, as modestly as she could, if they would not +let her go home, now that she had had the great +happiness of seeing her mother and her brothers +and sisters. But the roads were really too bad. +She must stay with them until the frost had disappeared. +It was not a matter of life and death, +they supposed, to go back to that place.</p> + +<p>Ingrid could not understand why it annoyed +people when she said she wanted to go back to +Munkhyttan. But this seemed to be the case +with her father and her mother and everybody +else in the parish. One had no right, it appeared, +to long for any other place in the world, +when one was at Raglanda.</p> + +<p>She soon saw it was best not to speak about +her going away. There were so many difficulties +in the way whenever she spoke about it. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +was not enough that the roads were still in the +same bad condition; they surrounded her with +walls and ramparts and moats. She would knit +and weave, and plant out in the forcing-frames. +And surely she would not go away until after +the large birthday party at the Dean's? And she +could not think of leaving till after Karin Landberg's +wedding.</p> + +<p>There was nothing for her to do but to lift her +hands in supplication to the spring, and beg it to +make haste with its work, beg for sunshine and +warmth, beg the gentle sun to do its very best +for the great border forest, send small piercing +rays between the fir-trees, and melt the snow beneath +them. Dear, dear sun! It did not matter +if the snow were not melted in the valley, if only +the snow would vanish from the mountains, if +only the forest paths became passable, if only +the Säter girls were able to go to their huts, if +only the bogs became dry, if only it became +possible to go by the forest road, which was half +the distance of the highroad.</p> + +<p>Ingrid knew one who would not wait for carriage, +or ask for money to drive, if only the road +through the forest became passable. She knew +one who would leave the Parsonage some moonlight +night, and who would do it without asking +a single person's permission.</p> + +<p>She thought she had waited for the spring before. +That everybody does. But now Ingrid +knew that she had never before longed for it. +Oh no, no! She had never before known what +it was to long. Before she had waited for green +leaves and anemones, and the song of the thrush<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +and the cuckoo. But that was childishness—nothing +more. They did not long for the spring +who only thought of what was beautiful. One +should take the first bit of earth that peeped +through the snow, and kiss it. One should pluck +the first coarse leaf of the nettle simply to burn +into one that now the spring had come.</p> + +<p>Everybody was very good to her. But although +they did not say anything, they seemed +to think that she was always thinking of leaving +them.</p> + +<p>'I can't understand why you want to go back +to that place and look after that crazy fellow,' +said Karin Landberg one day. It seemed as if +she could read Ingrid's thoughts.</p> + +<p>'Oh, she has given up thinking of that now,' +said the Pastor's wife, before the young girl had +time to answer.</p> + +<p>When Karin was gone the Pastor's wife said:</p> + +<p>'People wonder that you want to leave us.'</p> + +<p>Ingrid was silent.</p> + +<p>'They say that when Hede began to improve +perhaps you fell in love with him.'</p> + +<p>'Oh no! Not after he had begun to improve,' +Ingrid said, feeling almost inclined to laugh.</p> + +<p>'In any case, he is not the sort of person one +could marry,' said her adopted mother. 'Father +and I have been speaking about it, and we think +it is best that you should remain with us.'</p> + +<p>'It is very good of you that you want to keep +me,' Ingrid said. And she was touched that now +they wanted to be so kind to her.</p> + +<p>They did not believe her, however obedient +she was. She could not understand what little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +bird it was that told them about her longing. +Now her adopted mother had told her that she +must not go back to Munkhyttan. But even +then she could not leave the matter alone.</p> + +<p>'If they really wanted you,' she said, 'they +would write for you.'</p> + +<p>Ingrid again felt inclined to laugh. That +would be the strangest thing of all, should there +be a letter from the enchanted castle. She +would like to know if her adopted mother +thought that the King of the Mountain wrote +for the maiden who had been swallowed by the +mountain to come back when she had gone to +see her mother?</p> + +<p>But if her adopted mother had known how +many messages she had received she would +probably have been even more uneasy. There +came messages to her in her dreams by nights, +and there came messages to her in her visions by +day. He let Ingrid know that he was in need of +her. He was so ill—so ill!</p> + +<p>She knew that he was nearly going out of his +mind again, and that she must go to him. If +anyone had told her this, she would simply have +answered that she knew it.</p> + +<p>The large star-like eyes looked further and +further away. Those who saw that look would +never believe that she meant to stay quietly and +patiently at home.</p> + +<p>It is not very difficult either to see whether a +person is content or full of longing. One only +needs to see a little gleam of happiness in the +eyes when he or she comes in from work and sits +down by the fire. But in Ingrid's eyes there was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +no gleam of happiness, except when she saw the +mountain stream come down through the forest, +broad and strong. It was that that should prepare +the way for her.</p> + +<p>It happened one day that Ingrid was sitting +alone with Karin Landberg, and she began to +tell her about her life at Munkhyttan. Karin +was quite shocked. How could Ingrid stand +such a life?</p> + +<p>Karin Landberg was to be married very soon. +And she was now at that stage when she could +speak of nothing but her lover. She knew nothing +but what he had taught her, and she could +do nothing without first consulting him.</p> + +<p>It occurred to her that Oluf had said something +about Gunnar Hede which would help to +frighten Ingrid if she had begun to like that +crazy fellow. And then she began to tell her how +mad he had really been. For Oluf had told her +that when he was at the fair last autumn some +gentlemen had said that they did not think the +Goat was mad at all. He only pretended to be +in order to attract customers. But Oluf had +maintained that he was mad, and in order to +prove it went to the market and bought a +wretched little goat. And then it was plain +enough to see that he was mad. Oluf had only +put the goat in front of him on the counter +where his knives and things lay, and he had run +away and left both his pack and his wares, and +they had all laughed so awfully when they saw +how frightened he was. And it was impossible +that Ingrid could care for anyone who had been +so crazy.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was, no doubt, unwise of Karin Landberg +that she did not look at Ingrid whilst she told +this story. If she had seen how she frowned, +she would perhaps have taken warning.</p> + +<p>'And you will marry anyone who could do +such a thing!' Ingrid said. 'I think it would be +better to marry the Goat himself.'</p> + +<p>This Ingrid said in downright earnest, and it +seemed so strange to Karin that she, who was +always so gentle, should have said anything so +unkind, that it quite worried her. For several +days she was quite unhappy, because she feared +Oluf was not what she would like him to be. It +simply embittered Karin's life until she made up +her mind to tell Oluf everything; but he was so +nice and good, that he quite reassured her.</p> + +<p>It is not an easy task to wait for the spring in +Vermland. One can have sun and warmth in the +evening, and the next morning find the ground +white with snow. Gooseberry-bushes and lawns +may be green, but the trees of the birch-forest +are bare, and seem as if they will never spring +out.</p> + +<p>At Whitsuntide there was spring in the air, +but Ingrid's prayers had been of no avail. Not a +single Säter girl had taken up her abode in the +forest, not a fen was dry; it was impossible to go +through the forest.</p> + +<p>On Whit-Sunday Ingrid and her adopted +mother went to church. As it was such a great +festival, they had driven to church. In olden +days Ingrid had very much enjoyed driving up +to the church in full gallop, whilst people along +the roadside politely took off their hats, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +those who were standing on the road rushed to +the side as if they were quite frightened. But at +the present moment she could not enjoy anything. +'Longing takes the fragrance from the +rose, and the light from the full moon,' says an +old proverb.</p> + +<p>But Ingrid was glad for what she heard in +church. It did her good to hear how the disciples +were comforted in their longing. She was +glad that Jesus thought of comforting those who +longed so greatly for Him.</p> + +<p>Whilst Ingrid and the rest of the congregation +were in church a tall Dalar man came walking +down the road. He wore a sheepskin coat, and +had a large pack on his back, like one who cannot +tell winter from summer, or Sunday from +any other day. He did not go into the church, +but stole timidly past the horses that were tied +to the railings, and went into the churchyard.</p> + +<p>He sat down on a grave and thought of all the +dead who were still sleeping, and of one of the +dead who had awakened to life again. He was +still sitting there when the people left the church. +Karin Landberg's Oluf was one of the first to +leave the church, and when he happened to look +across the churchyard he discovered the Dalar +man. It is hard to say whether it was curiosity +or some other motive that prompted him, but +he went up to talk to him. He wanted to see if +it were possible that he who was supposed to +have been cured had become mad again.</p> + +<p>And it was possible. He told him at once +that he sat there waiting for her who was +called Grave-Lily. She was to come and play to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +him. She played so beautifully that the sun and +the stars danced.</p> + +<p>Then Karin Landberg's Oluf told him that +she for whom he was waiting was standing outside +the church. If he stood up, he could see +her. She would, no doubt, be glad to see him.</p> + +<p>The Pastor's wife and Ingrid were just getting +into the carriage, when a tall Dalar man came +running up to them. He came at a great pace +in spite of all the horses he must curtsy to, and +he beckoned eagerly to the young girl.</p> + +<p>As soon as Ingrid saw him she stood quite +still. She could not have told whether she was +most glad to see him again or most grieved that +he had again gone out of his mind; she only +forgot everything else in the world.</p> + +<p>Her eyes began to sparkle. In that moment +she saw nothing of the poor wretched man. She +only felt that she was once again near the beautiful +soul of the man for whom she had longed +so terribly.</p> + +<p>There were a great many people about, and +they could not help looking at her. They could +not take their eyes from her face. She did not +move; she stood waiting for him. But those +who saw how radiant she was with happiness +must have thought that she was waiting for +some great and noble man, instead of a poor, +half-witted fellow.</p> + +<p>They said afterwards that it almost seemed as +if there were some affinity between his soul and +hers—some secret affinity which lay so deeply +hidden beneath their consciousness that no +human being could understand it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p>But when Hede was only a step or two from +Ingrid her adopted mother took her resolutely +round the waist and lifted her into the carriage. +She would not have a scene between the two +just outside the church, with so many people +present. And as soon as they were in the carriage +the man sent his horses off at full gallop.</p> + +<p>A wild, terrified cry was heard as they drove +away. The Pastor's wife thanked God that she +had got the young girl into the carriage.</p> + +<p>It was still early in the afternoon when a +peasant came to the Parsonage to speak with the +Pastor. He came to speak about the crazy Dalar +man. He had now gone quite raving mad, and +they had been obliged to bind him. What did +the Pastor advise them to do? What should +they do with him?</p> + +<p>The Pastor could give them no other advice +but to take him home. He told the peasant who +he was, and where he lived.</p> + +<p>Later on in the evening he told Ingrid everything. +It was best to tell her the truth, and +trust to her own common-sense.</p> + +<p>But when night came it became clear to her +that she had not time to wait for the spring. The +poor girl set out for Munkhyttan by the highroad. +She would no doubt be able to get there +by that road, although she knew that it was +twice as long as the way through the forest.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>It was Whit-Monday, late in the afternoon. +Ingrid walked along the highroad. There was a +wide expanse of country, with low mountains +and small patches of birch forest between the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +fields. The mountain-ash and the bird-cherry +were in bloom; the light, sticky leaves of the +aspen were just out. The ditches were full of +clear, rippling water which made the stones at +the bottom glisten and sparkle.</p> + +<p>Ingrid walked sorrowfully along, thinking of +him whose mind had again given way, wondering +whether she could do anything for him, +whether it was of any use that she had left her +home in this manner.</p> + +<p>She was tired and hungry; her shoes had begun +to go to pieces. Perhaps it would be better +for her to turn back. She could never get to +Munkhyttan.</p> + +<p>The further she walked, the more sorrowful +she became. She could not help thinking that +it could be of no use her coming now that he +had gone quite out of his mind. There was no +doubt it was too late now; it was quite hopeless +to do anything for him.</p> + +<p>But as soon as she thought of turning back +she saw Gunnar Hede's face close to her cheek, +as she had so often seen it before. It gave her +new courage; she felt as if he were calling for +her. She again felt hopeful and confident of +being able to help him.</p> + +<p>Just as Ingrid raised her head, looking a little +less downcast, a queer little procession came +towards her.</p> + +<p>There was a little horse, drawing a little cart; +a fat woman sat in the cart, and a tall, thin +man, with long, thin moustaches walked by the +side of it.</p> + +<p>In the country, where no one understood any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>thing +about art, Mr. and Mrs. Blomgren always +went in for looking like ordinary people. The +little cart in which they travelled about was well +covered over, and no one could suspect that it +only contained fireworks and conjuring apparatus +and marionettes.</p> + +<p>No one could suspect that the fat woman +who sat on the top of the load, looking like a +well-to-do shopkeeper's wife, was formerly Miss +Viola, who once sprang through the air, or that +the man who walked by her side, and looked +like a pensioned soldier, was the same Mr. +Blomgren who occasionally, to break the monotony +of the journey, took it into his head to +turn a somersault over the horse, and play the +ventriloquist with thrushes and siskins that sang +in the trees by the roadside, so that he made +them quite mad.</p> + +<p>The horse was very small, and had formerly +drawn a roundabout, and therefore it would +never go unless it heard music. On that account +Mrs. Blomgren generally sat playing the +Jews'-harp, but as soon as they met anyone, she +put it in her pocket, so that no one should discover +they were artists, for whom country +people have no respect whatever. Owing to this +they did not travel very fast, but they were not +in any hurry either.</p> + +<p>The blind man, who played the violin, had to +walk some little distance behind the others in order +not to betray the fact of his belonging to the +company. The blind man was led by a little dog; +he was not allowed to have a child to lead him, +for that would always have reminded Mr. and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +Mrs. Blomgren of a little girl who was called Ingrid. +That would have been too sad.</p> + +<p>And now they were all in the country on account +of the spring. For however much money +Mr. and Mrs. Blomgren were making in the +towns, they felt they <em>must</em> be in the country at +that time of the year, for Mr. and Mrs. Blomgren +were artists.</p> + +<p>They did not recognise Ingrid, and she went +past them without taking any notice of them, for +she was in a hurry; she was afraid of their detaining +her. But directly afterwards she felt that +it was heartless and unkind of her, and turned +back.</p> + +<p>If Ingrid could have felt glad about anything, +she would have been glad by seeing the old people's +joy at meeting her. You may be sure they +had plenty to talk about. The little horse turned +its head time after time to see what was wrong +with the roundabout.</p> + +<p>Strangely enough, it was Ingrid who talked the +most. The two old people saw at once that she +had been crying, and they were so concerned that +she was obliged to tell them everything that had +happened to her.</p> + +<p>But it was a relief to Ingrid to speak. The old +people had their own way of taking things; they +clapped their hands when she told them how she +had got out of the grave and how she had frightened +the Pastor's wife. They caressed her and +praised her because she had run away from the +Parsonage. For them nothing was dull or sad, +but everything was bright and hopeful. They +simply had no standard by which to measure<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +reality, and therefore its hardness could not affect +them. They compared everything they heard +with the pieces from marionette theatres and pantomimes. +Of course, one also put a little sorrow +and misery into the pantomime, but that was only +done to heighten the effect. And, of course, +everything would end well. In the pantomimes +it always ended well.</p> + +<p>There was something infectious in all this +hopefulness. Ingrid knew they did not at all understand +how great her trouble was, but it was +cheering all the same to listen to them.</p> + +<p>But they were also of real help to Ingrid. They +told her that they had had dinner a short time +since at the inn at Torsäker, and just as they were +getting up from the table some peasants came +driving up with a man who was mad. Mrs. +Blomgren could not bear to see mad people, and +wanted to go away at once, and Mr. Blomgren +had consented. But supposing it was Ingrid's +madman! And they had hardly said the words +before Ingrid said that it was very likely, and +wanted to set off at once.</p> + +<p>Mr. Blomgren then asked his wife in his own +ceremonious manner if they were not in the country +solely on account of the spring, and if it were +not just the same where they went. And old Mrs. +Blomgren asked him equally ceremoniously in +her turn if he thought she would leave her beloved +Ingrid before she had reached the harbour +of her happiness.</p> + +<p>Then the old roundabout horse was turned, +and conversation grew more difficult, because +they again had to play on the Jews'-harp. As<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +soon as Mrs. Blomgren wished to say anything, +she was obliged to hand the instrument to Mr. +Blomgren, and when Mr. Blomgren wanted to +speak, he gave it back again to his wife. And +the little horse stood still every time the instrument +passed from mouth to mouth.</p> + +<p>The whole time they did their best to comfort +Ingrid. They related all the fairy tales they had +seen represented at the dolls' theatre. They comforted +her with the 'Enchanted Princess,' they +comforted her with 'Cinderella,' they comforted +her with all the fairy tales under the sun.</p> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Blomgren watched Ingrid when +they saw that her eyes grew brighter. 'Artist's +eyes,' they said, nodding contentedly to each +other. 'What did we say? Artist's eyes!'</p> + +<p>In some incomprehensible manner they had +got the idea that Ingrid had become one of them, +an artist. They thought she was playing a part +in a drama. It was a triumph for them in their +old age.</p> + +<p>On they went as fast as they could. The old +couple were only afraid that the madman would +not be at the inn any longer. But he was there, +and the worst of it was, no one knew how to get +him away.</p> + +<p>The two peasants from Raglanda who had +brought him had taken him to one of the rooms +and locked him in whilst they were waiting for +fresh horses. When they left him his arms had +been tied behind him, but he had somehow managed +to free his hands from the cord, and when +they came to fetch him he was free, and, beside +himself with rage, had seized a chair, with which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +he threatened to strike anyone who approached +him. They could do nothing but beat a hasty retreat +and lock the door. The peasants now only +waited for the landlord and his men to return and +help them to bind him again.</p> + +<p>All the hope which Ingrid's old friends had reawakened +within her was, however, not quenched. +She quite saw that Gunnar Hede was worse than +he had ever been before, but that was what she +had expected. She still hoped. It was not their +fairy tales, it was their great love that had given +her new hope.</p> + +<p>She asked the men to let her go to the madman. +She said she knew him, and he would not +do her any harm; but the peasants said they were +not mad. The man in the room would kill anybody +who went in.</p> + +<p>Ingrid sat down to think. She thought how +strange it was that she should meet Mr. and Mrs. +Blomgren just to-day. Surely that meant something. +She would never have met them if it had +not been for some purpose. And Ingrid thought +of how Hede had regained his senses the last +time. Could she not again make him do something +which would remind him of olden days, and +drive away his mad thoughts? She thought and +thought.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Blomgren sat on a seat outside +the inn, looking more unhappy than one would +have thought was possible. They were not far +from crying.</p> + +<p>Ingrid, their 'child,' came up to them with a +smile—such a smile as only she could have—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +stroked their old, wrinkled cheeks, and said it +would please her so much if they would let her +see a performance like those she used to see every +day in the olden time. It would be such a comfort +to her.</p> + +<p>At first they said no, for they were not at all in +proper artist humour, but when she had expended +a few smiles upon them they could not resist her. +They went to their cart and unpacked their costumes.</p> + +<p>When they were ready they called for the blind +man, and Ingrid selected the place where the performance +was to be held. She would not let them +perform in the yard, but took them into the garden +belonging to the inn, for there was a garden +belonging to this inn. It was mostly full of beds +for vegetables which had not yet come up, but +here and there was an apple-tree in bloom. And +Ingrid said she would like them to perform under +one of the apple-trees in bloom.</p> + +<p>Some lads and servant-girls came running +when they heard the violin, so there was a small +audience. But it was hard work for Mr. and Mrs. +Blomgren to perform. Ingrid had asked too +much of them; they were really much too sad.</p> + +<p>And it was very unfortunate that Ingrid had +taken them out into the garden. She had evidently +not remembered that the rooms in the inn +faced this way. Mrs. Blomgren was very nearly +running away when she heard a window in one +of the rooms quickly opened. Supposing the +madman had heard the music, and supposing he +jumped out of the window and came to them?</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Blomgren was somewhat reassured<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +when she saw who had opened the window. It +was a young gentleman with a pleasant face. He +was in shirt-sleeves, but otherwise very decently +dressed. His eye was quiet, his lips smiled, and +he stroked his hair back from his forehead with +his hand.</p> + +<p>Mr. Blomgren was working, and was so taken +up with the performance that he did not notice +anything. Mrs. Blomgren, who had nothing else +to do but kiss her hands in all directions, had +time to observe everything.</p> + +<p>It was astonishing how radiant Ingrid suddenly +looked. Her eyes shone as never before, +and her face was so white that light seemed to +come from it. And all this radiancy was directed +towards the man in the window.</p> + +<p>He did not hesitate long. He stood up on the +window-sill and jumped down to them, and he +went up to the blind man and asked him to lend +him his violin. Ingrid at once took the violin +from the blind man and gave it to him.</p> + +<p>'Play the waltz from "Freischütz,"' she said.</p> + +<p>Then the man began to play, and Ingrid smiled, +but she looked so unearthly that Mrs. Blomgren +almost thought that she would dissolve into a +sunbeam, and fly away from them. But as soon +as Mrs. Blomgren heard the man play she knew +him again.</p> + +<p>'Is that how it is?' she said to herself. 'Is it +he? That was why she wanted to see two old +people perform.'</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Gunnar Hede, who had been walking up and +down his room in such a rage that he felt inclined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +to kill someone, had suddenly heard a blind man +playing outside his window, and that had taken +him back to an incident in his former life.</p> + +<p>He could not at first understand where his +own violin was, but then he remembered that Alin +had taken it away with him, and now the only +thing left for him to do was to try and borrow the +blind man's violin to play himself quiet again; he +was so excited. And as soon as he had got the +violin in his hand he began to play. It never occurred +to him that he could not play. He had no +idea that for several years he had only been able +to play some poor little tunes.</p> + +<p>He thought all the time he was in Upsala, outside +the house with the Virginia-creepers, and he +expected the acrobats would begin to dance as +they had done last time. He endeavoured to +play with more life to make them do so, but his +fingers were stiff and awkward; the bow would +not properly obey them. He exerted himself so +much that the perspiration stood on his forehead.</p> + +<p>At last, however, he got hold of the right tune—the +same they had danced to the last time. He +played it so enticingly, so temptingly, that it +ought to have melted their hearts. But the old +acrobats did not begin to dance. It was a long +time since they had met the student at Upsala; +they did not remember how enthusiastic they +were then. They had no idea what he expected +them to do.</p> + +<p>Gunnar Hede looked at Ingrid for an explanation +why they did not dance. When he looked at +her there was such an unearthly radiance in her +eyes that in his astonishment he gave up playing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +He stood a moment looking round the small +crowd. They all looked at him with such strange, +uneasy glances. It was impossible to play with people +staring at him so. He simply went away from +them. There were some apple-pears in bloom at +the other end of the garden, so he went there.</p> + +<p>He saw now that nothing fitted in with the ideas +he had just had that Alin had locked him in, and +that he was at Upsala. The garden was too large, +and the house was not covered with red creepers. +No, it could not be Upsala. But he did not mind +very much where he was. It seemed to him as if +he had not played for centuries, and now he had +got hold of a violin. Now he would play. He +placed the violin against his cheek, and began. +But again he was stopped by the stiffness in his +fingers. He could only play the very simplest +things.</p> + +<p>'I shall have to begin at the beginning,' he +said.</p> + +<p>And he smiled and played a little minuet. It +was the first thing he had learnt. His father had +played it to him, and he had afterwards played it +from ear. He saw all at once the whole scene before +him, and he heard the words:</p> + +<p>'The little Prince should learn to dance, but he +broke his little leg.'</p> + +<p>Then he tried to play several other small +dances. They were some he had played as a +school boy. They had asked him to play at the +dancing-lessons at the young ladies' boarding-school. +He could see the girls dance and swing +about, and could hear the dancing-mistress beat +the time with her foot.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then he grew bolder. He played first violin in +one of Mozart's quartettes. When he learnt that, +he was in the Sixth Form at the Latin school at +Falun. Some old gentlemen had practised this +quartette for a concert, but the first violin had +been taken ill, and he was asked to take his part, +young as he was. He remembered how proud he +had been.</p> + +<p>Gunnar Hede only thought of getting his fingers +into practice when he played these childish +exercises. But he soon noticed that something +strange was happening to him. He had a distinct +sensation that in his brain there was some great +darkness that hid his past. As soon as he tried +to remember anything, it was as if he were trying +to find something in a dark room; but when he +played, some of the darkness vanished. Without +his having thought of it, the darkness had vanished +so much that he could now remember his +childhood and school life.</p> + +<p>Then he made up his mind to let himself be led +by the violin; perhaps it could drive away all the +darkness. And so it did, for every piece he +played the darkness vanished a little. The violin +led him through the one year after the other, +awoke in him memories of studies, friends and +pleasures. The darkness stood like a wall before +him, but when he advanced against it, armed with +the violin, it vanished step by step. Now and +then he looked round to see whether it closed +again behind him. But behind him was bright +day.</p> + +<p>The violin came to a series of duets for piano +and violin. He only played a bar or two of each.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +But a large portion of the darkness vanished; he +remembered his <em><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">fiancée</span></em> and his engagement. He +would like to have dwelt a little over this, but +there was still much darkness left to be played +away. He had no time.</p> + +<p>He glided into a hymn. He had heard it once +when he was unhappy. He remembered he was +sitting in a village church when he heard it. But +why <span class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: Original has had be">had he</span> been unhappy? Because he went +about the country selling goods like a poor pedlar. +It was a hard life. It was sad to think +about it.</p> + +<p>The bow went over the strings like a whirlwind, +and again cut through a large portion of the +darkness. Now he saw the Fifty-Mile Forest, the +snow-covered animals, the weird shapes, the drifts +made of them. He remembered the journey to +see his <em><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">fiancée</span></em>, remembered that she had broken +the engagement. All this became clear to him at +one time.</p> + +<p>He really felt neither sorrow nor joy over anything +he remembered. The most important thing +was that he did remember. This of itself was an +unspeakable pleasure. But all at once the bow +stopped, as if of its own accord. It would not +lead him any further. And yet there was more—much +more—that he must remember. The darkness +still stood like a solid wall before him.</p> + +<p>He compelled the bow to go on. And it played +two quite common tunes, the poorest he had ever +heard. How could his bow have learned such +tunes? The darkness did not vanish in the least +for these tunes. They really taught him nothing; +but from them came a terror which he could not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +remember having ever felt before—an inconceivable, +awful fear, the mad terror of a doomed soul.</p> + +<p>He stopped playing; he could not bear it. +What was there in these tunes—what was there? +The darkness did not vanish for them, and the +awful thing was, that it seemed to him that when +he did not advance against the darkness with the +violin and drive it before him, it came gliding +towards him to overwhelm him.</p> + +<p>He had been standing playing, with his eyes +half closed; now he opened them and looked into +the world of reality. He saw Ingrid, who had +been standing listening to him the whole time. +He asked her, not expecting an answer, but simply +to keep back the darkness for a moment:</p> + +<p>'When did I last play this tune?'</p> + +<p>But Ingrid stood trembling. She had made up +her mind, whatever happened, now he should +hear the truth. Afraid she was, but at the same +time full of courage, and quite decided as to what +she meant to do. He should not again escape +her, not be allowed to slip away from her. But +in spite of her courage she did not dare to tell him +straight out that these were the tunes he had +played whilst he was out of his mind; she evaded +the question.</p> + +<p>'That was what you used to play at Munkhyttan +last winter,' she said.</p> + +<p>Hede felt as if he were surrounded by nothing +but mysteries. Why did this young girl say '<em><span lang="sv" xml:lang="sv">du</span></em>' +to him? She was not a peasant girl.<a name="FNanchor_A" id="FNanchor_A"></a><a href="#Footnote_A" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> Her hair<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +was dressed like other young ladies', on the top of +the head and in small curls. Her dress was home-woven, +but she wore a lace collar. She had small +hands and a refined face. This face, with the +large, dreamy eyes, could not belong to a peasant +girl. Hede's memory could not tell him anything +about her. Why did she, then, say '<em><span lang="sv" xml:lang="sv">du</span></em>' to +him? How did she know that he had played +these tunes at home?</p> + +<p>'What is your name?' he said. 'Who are +you?'</p> + +<p>'I am Ingrid, whom you saw at Upsala many +years ago, and whom you comforted because she +could not learn to dance on the tight-rope.'</p> + +<p>This went back to the time he could partly remember. +Now he did remember her.</p> + +<p>'How tall and pretty you have grown, Ingrid!' +he said. 'And how fine you have become! +What a beautiful brooch you have!'</p> + +<p>He had been looking at her brooch for some +time. He thought he knew it; it was like a +brooch of enamel and pearls his mother used to +wear. The young girl answered at once.</p> + +<p>'Your mother gave it to me. You must have +seen it before.'</p> + +<p>Gunnar Hede put down the violin and went up +to Ingrid. He asked her almost violently:</p> + +<p>'How is it possible—how can you wear her +brooch? How is it that I don't know anything +about your knowing my mother?'</p> + +<p>Ingrid was frightened. She grew almost gray +with terror. She knew already what the next +question would be.</p> + +<p>'I know nothing, Ingrid. I don't know why<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +I am here. I don't know why you are here. Why +don't I know all this?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, don't ask me!'</p> + +<p>She went back a step or two, and stretched out +her hands as if to protect herself.</p> + +<p>'Won't you tell me?'</p> + +<p>'Don't ask! don't ask!'</p> + +<p>He seized her roughly by the wrist to compel +her to tell the truth.</p> + +<p>'Tell me! I am in my full senses! Why is +there so much I can't remember?'</p> + +<p>She saw something wild and threatening in his +eyes. She knew now that she would be obliged +to tell him. But she felt as if it were impossible +to tell a man that he had been mad. It was much +more difficult than she had thought. It was impossible—impossible!</p> + +<p>'Tell me!' he repeated.</p> + +<p>But she could hear from his voice that he would +not hear it. He was almost ready to kill her if +she told him. Then she summoned up all her +love, and looked straight into Gunnar Hede's +eyes, and said:</p> + +<p>'You have not been quite right.'</p> + +<p>'Not for a long time?'</p> + +<p>'I don't quite know—not for three or four +years.'</p> + +<p>'Have I been out of my mind?'</p> + +<p>'No, no! You have bought and sold and gone +to the fairs.'</p> + +<p>'In what way have I been mad?'</p> + +<p>'You were frightened.'</p> + +<p>'Of whom was I frightened?'</p> + +<p>'Of animals.'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Of goats, perhaps?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, mostly of goats.'</p> + +<p>He had stood clutching her by the wrist the +whole time. He now flung her hand away from +him—simply flung it. He turned away from Ingrid +in a rage, as if she had maliciously told him +an infamous lie.</p> + +<p>But this feeling gave way for something else +which excited him still more. He saw before his +eyes, as distinctly as if it had been a picture, a tall +Dalar man, weighed down by a huge pack. He +was going into a peasant's house, but a wretched +little dog came rushing at him. He stopped and +curtsied and curtsied, and did not dare to go in +until a man came out of the house, laughing, and +drove the dog away.</p> + +<p>When he saw this he again felt that terrible +fear. In this anguish the vision disappeared, but +then he heard voices. They shouted and shrieked +around him. They laughed. Derision was showered +upon him. Worst and loudest were the +shrill voices of children. One word, one name +came over and over again: it was shouted, +shrieked, whispered, wheezed into his ear—'The +Goat! the Goat!' And that all meant him, Gunnar +Hede. All that he had lived in. He felt in +full consciousness the same unspeakable fear he +had suffered whilst out of his mind. But now it +was not fear for anything outside himself—now +he was afraid of himself.</p> + +<p>'It was I! it was I!' he said, wringing his +hands. The next moment he was kneeling +against a low seat. He laid his head down and +cried, cried: 'It was I!' He moaned and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +sobbed. 'It was I!' How could he have courage +to bear this thought—a madman, scorned +and laughed at by all? 'Ah! let me go mad +again!' he said, hitting the seat with his fist. +'This is more than a human being can bear.'</p> + +<p>He held his breath a moment. The darkness +came towards him as the saviour he invoked. It +came gliding towards him like a mist. A smile +passed over his lips. He could feel the muscles +of his face relax, feel that he again had the look +of a madman. But that was better. The other +he could not bear. To be pointed at, jeered at, +scorned, mad! No, it was better to be so again +and not to know it. Why should he come back +to life? Everyone must loathe him. The first +light, fleeting clouds of the great darkness began +to enwrap him.</p> + +<p>Ingrid stood there, seeing and hearing all his +anguish, not knowing but that all would soon be +lost again. She saw clearly that madness was +again about to seize him. She was so frightened, +so frightened, all her courage had gone. But before +he again lost his senses, and became so +scared that he allowed no one to come near him, +she would at least take leave of him and of all +her happiness.</p> + +<p>Gunnar Hede felt that Ingrid came and knelt +down beside him, laid her arm round his neck, +put her cheek to his, and kissed him. She did not +think herself too good to come near him, the +madman, did not think herself too good to kiss +him.</p> + +<p>There was a faint hissing in the darkness. The +mist lifted, and it was as if serpents had raised<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +their heads against him, and now wheezed with +anger that they could not reach to sting him.</p> + +<p>'Do not be so unhappy,' Ingrid said. 'Do not +be so unhappy. No one thinks of the past, if you +will only get well.'</p> + +<p>'I want to be mad again,' he said. 'I cannot +bear it. I cannot bear to think how I have been.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, you can,' said Ingrid.</p> + +<p>'No; that no one can forget,' he moaned. 'I +was so dreadful! No one can love me.'</p> + +<p>'I love you,' she said.</p> + +<p>He looked up doubtfully.</p> + +<p>'You kissed me in order that I should not go +out of my mind again. You pity me.'</p> + +<p>'I will kiss you again,' she said.</p> + +<p>'You say that now because you think I am in +need of hearing it.'</p> + +<p>'Are you in need of hearing that someone loves +you?'</p> + +<p>'If I am—if I am? Ah, child,' he said, and tore +himself away from her, 'how can I possibly bear +it, when I know that everyone who sees me +thinks: "That fellow has been mad; he has gone +about curtsying for dogs and cats."'</p> + +<p>Then he began again. He lay crying with his +face in his hands.</p> + +<p>'It is better to go out of one's mind again. I +can hear them shouting after me, and I see myself, +and the anguish, the anguish, the anguish——'</p> + +<p>But then Ingrid's patience came to an end.</p> + +<p>'Yes, that is right,' she cried; 'go out of your +mind again. I call that manly to go mad in order +to escape a little anguish.'</p> + +<p>She sat biting her lips, struggling with her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +tears, and as she could not get the words out +quickly enough, she seized him by the shoulder +and shook him. She was enraged and quite beside +herself with anger because he would again +escape her, because he did not struggle and +fight.</p> + +<p>'What do you care about me? What do you +care about your mother? You go mad, and then +you will have peace.' She shook him again by +the arm. 'To be saved from anguish, you say, +but you don't care about one who has been waiting +for you all her life. If you had any thought +for anyone but yourself, you would fight against +this and get well; but you have no thought for +others. You can come so touchingly in visions +and dreams and beg for help, but in reality you +will not have any help. You imagine that your +sufferings are greater than anyone else's, but +there are others who have suffered more than +you.'</p> + +<p>At last Gunnar Hede raised his eyes, and +looked her straight in the face. She was anything +but beautiful at this moment. Tears were +streaming down her cheeks, and her lips trembled, +whilst she tried to get out the words between her +sobs. But in his eyes her emotion only made her +more beautiful. A wonderful peace came over +him, and a great and humble thankfulness. +Something great and wonderful had come to him +in his deepest humiliation. It must be a great +love—a great love.</p> + +<p>He had sat bemoaning his wretchedness, and +Love came and knocked at his door. He would +not merely be tolerated when he came back to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +life; people would not only with difficulty refrain +from laughing at him.</p> + +<p>There was one who loved him and longed for +him. She spoke hardly to him, but he heard love +trembling in every single word. He felt as if she +were offering him thrones and kingdoms. She +told him that whilst he had been out of his mind +he had saved her life. He had awakened her from +the dead, had helped her, protected her. But this +was not enough for her; she would possess him +altogether.</p> + +<p>When she kissed him he had felt a life-giving +balm enter his sick soul, but he had hardly dared +to think that it was love that made her. But he +could not doubt her anger and her tears. He +was beloved—he, poor wretched creature! he +who had been held in derision by everybody! and +before the great and humble bliss which now +filled Gunnar Hede vanished the last darkness. It +was drawn aside like a heavy curtain, and he saw +plainly before him the region of terror through +which he had wandered. But there, too, he had +met Ingrid; there he had lifted her from the +grave; there he had played for her at the hut in +the forest; there she had striven to heal him.</p> + +<p>But only the memory of her came back: the +feelings with which she had formerly inspired him +now awoke. Love filled his whole being; he felt +the same burning longing that he had felt in the +churchyard at Raglanda when she was taken from +him.</p> + +<p>In that region of terror, in that great desert, +there had at any rate grown one flower that had +comforted him with fragrance and beauty, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +now he felt that love would dwell with him forever. +The wild flower of the desert had been +transplanted into the garden of life, and had taken +root and grown and thriven, and when he felt this +he knew he was saved; he knew that the darkness +had found its master.</p> + +<p>Ingrid was silent. She was tired, as one is tired +after hard work; but she was also content, for +she felt she had carried out her work in the best +possible manner. She knew she had conquered.</p> + +<p>At last Gunnar Hede broke the silence.</p> + +<p>'I promise you that I will not give in,' he said.</p> + +<p>'Thank you,' Ingrid answered.</p> + +<p>Nothing more was said.</p> + +<p>Gunnar Hede thought he would never be able +to tell her how much he loved her. It could never +be told in words, only shown every day and every +hour of his life.</p> +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_A" id="Footnote_A" href="#FNanchor_A"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> The peasants in the Dalar district used formerly to address +everybody by the pronoun <em><span lang="sv" xml:lang="sv">du</span></em> (thou), even when speaking to +the King; this custom is now, however, not so general.—I.B.</p></div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> +<div class="story_title_page"> +<h2 title="Queens at Kungahälla">II. <a name="Queens_at_Kungahalla" id="Queens_at_Kungahalla"><span class="dec_italic">Queens at</span> <span class="smcap">Kungahälla</span></a></h2> +<p><span class="dec_italic">From a Swedish</span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">Homestead</span></p> +<p class="story_no">II</p> +<p><span class="dec_italic">Queens at</span> <span class="smcap">Kungahälla</span></p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> + +<p class="story_head"><span class="dec_italic">Queens at</span> <span class="smcap">Kungahälla</span></p> + +<h3><a name="Site" id="Site"><span class="dec_italic">On the</span> <span class="smcap">Site</span> <span class="dec_italic">of the Great</span> <span class="smcap">Kungahälla</span></a></h3> + +<p>Should a stranger who had heard about +the old city of Kungahälla ever visit the site +on the northern river where it once lay, he +would assuredly be much surprised. He would +ask himself whether churches and fortifications +could melt away like snow, or if the earth had +opened and swallowed them up. He stands on +a spot where formerly there was a mighty city, +and he cannot find a street or a landing-stage. +He sees neither ruins nor traces of devastating +fires; he only sees a country seat, surrounded by +green trees and red outbuildings. He sees nothing +but broad meadows and fields, where the +plough does its work year after year without being +hindered either by brick foundations or old +pavements.</p> + +<p>He would probably first of all go down to the +river. He would not expect to see anything of +the great ships that went to the Baltic ports or to +distant Spain, but he would in all likelihood think +that he might find traces of the old ship-yards, of +the large boat-houses and landing-stages. He +presumes that he will find some of the old kilns +where they used to refine salt; he will see the +worn-out pavement on the main street that led to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +the harbour. He will inquire about the German +pier and the Swedish pier; he would like to see +the Weeping Bridge where the women of Kungahälla +took leave of their husbands and sons when +they went to distant lands, but when he comes +down to the river's edge he sees nothing but a +forest of waving reeds. He sees a road full of +holes leading down to the ferry; he sees a couple +of common barges and a little flat-bottomed ferryboat +that is taking a peasant cart over to Hisingen, +but no big ships come gliding up the river. +He does not even see any dark hulls lying and +rotting at the bottom of the river.</p> + +<p>As he does not find anything remarkable down +at the harbour, he will probably begin to look for +the celebrated Convent Hill. He expects to see +traces of the palisading and ramparts which in +olden days surrounded it. He is hoping to see +the ruins of the high walls and the long cloisters. +He says to himself that anyhow there must be +ruins of that magnificent church where the cross +was kept—that miracle-working cross which had +been brought from Jerusalem. He thinks of the +number of monuments covering the holy hills +which rise over other ancient cities, and his heart +begins to beat with glad expectation. But when +he comes to the old Convent Hill which rises +above the fields, he finds nothing but clusters of +murmuring trees; he finds neither walls, nor towers, +nor gables perforated with pointed arched +windows. Garden seats and benches he will find +under the shadow of the trees, but no cloisters +decorated with pillars, no hewn gravestones.</p> + +<p>Well, if he has not found anything here, he will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +in any case try to find the old King's Hall. He +thinks about the large halls from which Kungahälla +is supposed to have derived its name. It +might be that there was something left of the +timber—a yard thick—that formed the walls, or +of the deep cellars under the great hall where the +Norwegian kings celebrated their banquets. He +thinks of the smooth green courtyard of the +King's Hall, where the kings used to ride their +silver-shod chargers, and where the queens used +to milk the golden-horned cows. He thinks of +the lofty ladies' bower; of the brewing-room, with +its large boilers; of the huge kitchen, where half +an ox at a time was placed in the pot, and where a +whole hog was roasted on the spit. He thinks of +the serfs' house, of the falcon's cages, of the great +pantries—house by house all round the courtyard, +moss-grown with age, decorated with +dragons' heads. Of such a number of buildings +there must be some traces left, he thinks.</p> + +<p>But should he then inquire for the old King's +Hall, he will be taken to a modern country-house, +with glass veranda and conservatories. The +King's seat has vanished, and with it all the drinking-horns, +inlaid with silver, and the shields, covered +with skin. One cannot even show him the +well-kept courtyard, with its short, close grass, +and with narrow paths of black earth. He sees +strawberry-beds and hedges of rose-trees; he +sees happy children and young girls dancing under +apple and pear trees. But he does not see +strong men wrestling, or knights playing at ball.</p> + +<p>Perhaps he asks about the great oak on the +Market Place, beneath which the Kings sat in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +judgment, and where the twelve stones of judgment +were set up. Or about the long street, +which was said to be seven miles long! Or about +the rich merchants' houses, separated by dark +lanes, each having its own landing-stage and +boathouse down by the river. Or about the +Marie Church in the Market Place, where the +seamen brought their offerings of small, full-rigged +ships, and the sorrowful, small silver +hearts.</p> + +<p>But there is nothing left to show him of all +these things. Cows and sheep graze where the +long street used to be. Rye and barley grow on +the Market Place, and stables and barns stand +where people used to flock round the tempting +market-stalls.</p> + +<p>How can he help feeling disappointed? Is +there not a single thing to be found, he says, not +a single relic left? And he thinks perhaps that +they have been deceiving him. The great Kungahälla +can never have stood here, he says. It +must have stood in some other place.</p> + +<p>Then they take him down to the riverside, and +show him a roughly-hewn stone block, and they +scrape away the silver-gray lichen, so that he can +see there are some figures hewn in the stone. He +will not be able to understand what they represent; +they will be as incomprehensible to him as +the spots in the moon. But they will assure him +that they represent a ship and an elk, and that +they were cut in the stone in the olden days +to commemorate the foundation of the city.</p> + +<p>And should he still not be able to understand, +they will tell him what is the meaning of the inscription +on the stone.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="Forest" id="Forest"><span class="dec_italic">The Forest</span> <span class="smcap">Queen</span></a></h3> + +<p>Marcus Antonius Poppius was a Roman +merchant of high standing. He traded with distant +lands; and from the harbour at Ostia he +sent well-equipped triremas to Spain, to Britain, +and even to the north coast of Germany. Fortune +favoured him, and he amassed immense +riches, which he hoped to leave as an inheritance +to his only son. Unfortunately, this only son +had not inherited his father's ability. This happens, +unfortunately, all the world over. A rich +man's only son. Need one say more? It is, +and always will be, the same story.</p> + +<p>One would almost think that the gods give rich +men these incorrigible idlers, these dull, pale, languid +fools of sons, to show man what unutterable +folly it is to amass riches. When will the eyes of +mankind be opened? When will men listen to +the warning voice of the gods?</p> + +<p>Young Silvius Antonius Poppius, at the age of +twenty, had already tried all the pleasures of life. +He was also fond of letting people see that he was +tired of them; but in spite of that, one did not notice +any diminution in the eagerness with which +he sought them. On the contrary, he was quite +in despair when a singularly persistent ill-luck began +to pursue him, and to interfere with all his +pleasures. His Numidian horses fell lame the +day before the great chariot race of the year; his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +illicit love affairs were found out; his cleverest +cook died from malaria. This was more than +enough to crush a man whose strength had not +been hardened by exertion and toil. Young +Poppius felt so unhappy that he made up his mind +to take his own life. He seemed to think that this +was the only way in which he could cheat the God +of Misfortune who pursued him and made his life +a burden.</p> + +<p>One can understand that an unhappy creature +commits suicide in order to escape the persecution +of man; but only a fool like Silvius Antonius +could think of adopting such means to flee from +the gods. One recalls involuntarily the story of +the man who, to escape from the lion, sprang right +into its open jaws.</p> + +<p>Young Silvius was much too effeminate to +choose a bloody death. Neither had he any inclination +to die from a painful poison. After careful +consideration, he resolved to die the gentle +death of the waves.</p> + +<p>But when he went down to the Tiber to drown +himself he could not make up his mind to give his +body to the dirty, sluggish water of the river. +For a long time he stood undecided, staring into +the stream. Then he was seized by the magic +charm which lies dreamily over a river. He felt +that great, holy longing which fills these never-resting +wanderers of nature; he would see the sea.</p> + +<p>'I will die in the clear blue sea, through which +the sun's rays penetrate right to the bottom,' said +Silvius Antonius. 'My body shall rest upon a +couch of pink coral. The foamy waves which I +set in motion when I sink into the deep shall be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +snow-white and fresh; they shall not be like the +sooty froth which lies quivering at the river-side.'</p> + +<p>He immediately hurried home, had his horses +harnessed and drove to Ostia. He knew that one +of his father's ships was lying in the harbour +ready to sail. Young Poppius drove his horses +at a furious pace, and he succeeded in getting on +board just as the anchor was being weighed. Of +course he did not think it necessary to take any +baggage with him. He did not even trouble to +ask the skipper for what place the craft was +bound. To the sea they were going, in any case—that +was enough for him.</p> + +<p>Nor was it very long before the young suicide +reached the goal of his desire. The trirema +passed the mouth of the Tiber, and the Mediterranean +lay before Silvius Antonius, its sparkling +waves bathed in sun. Its beauty made Silvius +Antonius believe in the poet's assertion that the +swelling ocean is but a thin veil which covers the +most beautiful world. He felt bound to believe +that he who boldly makes his way through this +cover will immediately reach the sea-god's palace +of pearls. The young man congratulated himself +that he had chosen this manner of death. And +one could scarcely call it that; it was impossible +to believe that this beautiful water could kill. It +was only the shortest road to a land where pleasure +is not a delusion, leaving nothing but distaste +and loathing. He could only with difficulty suppress +his eagerness. But the whole deck was +full of sailors. Even Silvius could understand +that if he now sprang into the sea the consequence +would simply be that one of his father's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +sailors would quickly spring overboard and fish +him out.</p> + +<p>As soon as the sails were set and the oarsmen +were well in swing, the skipper came up to him +and saluted him with the greatest politeness.</p> + +<p>'You intend, then, to go with me to Germany, +my Silvius?' he said. 'You do me great honour.'</p> + +<p>Young Poppius suddenly remembered that +this man used never to return from a voyage without +bringing him some curious thing or other +from the barbarous countries he had visited. +Sometimes it was a couple of pieces of wood with +which the savages made fire; sometimes it was +the black horn of an ox, which they used as a +drinking-vessel; sometimes a necklace of bear's +teeth, which had been a great chief's mark of distinction.</p> + +<p>The good man beamed with joy at having his +master's son on board his ship. He saw in it a +new proof of the wisdom of old Poppius, in sending +his son to distant lands, instead of letting him +waste more time amongst the effeminate young +Roman idlers.</p> + +<p>Young Poppius did not wish to undeceive him. +He was afraid that if he disclosed his intention +the skipper would at once turn back with him.</p> + +<p>'Verily, Galenus,' he said, 'I would gladly accompany +you on this voyage, but I fear I must +ask you to put me ashore at Bajæ. I made up my +mind too late. I have neither clothes nor money.'</p> + +<p>But Galenus assured him that that need was +soon remedied. Was he not upon his father's +well-appointed vessel? He should not want for +anything—neither warm fur tunic when the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +weather was cold, or light Syrian clothing of the +kind that seamen wear when they cruise in fair +weather in the friendly seas between the islands.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Three months after their departure from Ostia, +Galenus's trirema rowed in amongst a cluster of +rocky islands. Neither the skipper nor any of his +crew were quite clear as to where they really +were, but they were glad to take shelter for a +time from the storms that raged on the open sea.</p> + +<p>One could almost think that Silvius Antonius +was right in his belief that some deity persecuted +him. No one on the ship had ever before experienced +such a voyage. The luckless sailors +said to each other that they had not had fair +weather for two days since they left Ostia. The +one storm had followed upon the other. They +had undergone the most terrible sufferings. They +had suffered hunger and thirst, whilst they, day +and night, exhausted and almost fainting from +want of sleep, had had to manage sails and oars. +The fact of the seamen being unable to trade had +added to their despondency. How could they +approach the coast and display their wares on the +shore to effect an exchange in such weather? On +the contrary, every time they saw the coast appear +through the obstinate heavy mist that surrounded +them, they had been compelled to put +out to sea again for fear of the foam-decked rocks. +One night, when they struck on a rock, they had +been obliged to throw the half of their cargo into +the sea. And as for the other half, they dared not +think about it, as they feared it was completely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +spoiled by the breakers which had rolled over the +ship.</p> + +<p>Certain it was that Silvius Antonius had proved +himself not to be lucky at sea either. Silvius +Antonius was still living; he had not drowned +himself. It is difficult to say why he prolonged an +existence which could not be of any more pleasure +to him now than when he first made up his +mind to cut it short. Perhaps he had hoped that +the sea would have taken possession of him without +he himself doing anything to bring it about. +Perhaps his love for the sea had passed away during +its bursts of anger; perhaps he had resolved +to die in the opal-green perfumed water of his +bath.</p> + +<p>But had Galenus and his men known why the +young man had come on board, they would assuredly +have bitterly complained that he had not +carried out his intention, for they were all convinced +that it was his presence which had called +forth their misfortunes. Many a dark night Galenus +had feared that the sailors would throw him +into the sea. More than one of them related that +in the terrible stormy nights he had seen dark +hands stretching out of the water, grasping after +the ship. And they did not think it was necessary +to cast lots to find out who it was that these hands +wanted to draw down into the deep. Both the +skipper and the crew did Silvius Antonius the +special honour to think that it was for his sake +these storms rent the air and scourged the sea.</p> + +<p>If Silvius during this time had behaved like a +man, if he had taken his share of their work and +anxiety, then perhaps some of his companions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +might have had pity upon him as a being who had +brought upon himself the wrath of the gods. But +the young man had not understood how to win +their sympathy. He had only thought of seeking +shelter for himself from the wind, and of sending +them to fetch furs and rugs from the stores for his +protection from the cold.</p> + +<p>But for the moment all complaints over his +presence had ceased. As soon as the storm had +succeeded in driving the trirema into the quiet +waters between the islands, its rage was spent. +It behaved like a sheep-dog that becomes silent +and keeps quiet as soon as it sees the sheep on the +right way to the fold. The heavy clouds disappeared +from the sky; the sun shone. For the first +time during the voyage the sailors felt the joys +of summer spreading over Nature.</p> + +<p>Upon these storm-beaten men the sunshine and +the warmth had almost an intoxicating effect. +Instead of longing for rest and sleep, they became +as merry as happy children in the morning. +They expected they would find a large continent +behind all these rocks and boulders. They hoped +to find people, and—who could tell?—on this +foreign coast, which had probably never before +been visited by a Roman ship, their wares would +no doubt find a ready sale. In that case they +might after all do some good business, and bring +back with them skins of bear and elk, and large +quantities of white wax and golden amber.</p> + +<p>Whilst the trirema slowly made its way between +the rocks, which grew higher and higher +and richer with verdure and trees, the crew made +haste to decorate it so that it could attract the at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>tention +of the barbarians. The ship, which, even +without any decoration, was a beautiful specimen +of human handiwork, soon rivalled in splendour +the most gorgeous bird. Recently tossed about +by storms and ravaged by tempests, it now bore +on its topmast a golden sceptre and sails striped +with purple. In the bows a resplendent figure of +Neptune was raised, and in the stern a tent of +many-coloured silken carpets. And do not think +the sailors neglected to hang the sides of the ship +with rugs, the fringes of which trailed in the +water, or to wind the long oars of the ship with +golden ribbons. Neither did the crew of the ship +wear the clothes they had worn during the +voyage, and which the sea and the storm had +done their best to destroy. They arrayed themselves +in white garments, wound purple scarves +round their waists, and placed glittering bands in +their hair.</p> + +<p>Even Silvius Antonius roused himself from his +apathy. It was as if he was glad of having at last +found something to do which he thoroughly understood. +He was shaved, had his hair trimmed, +and his whole person rubbed over with fragrant +scents. Then he put on a flowing robe, hung a +mantle over his shoulders, and chose from the +large casket of jewels which Galenus opened for +him rings and bracelets, necklaces, and a golden +belt. When he was ready he flung aside the purple +curtains of the silken tent, and laid himself on +a couch in the opening of the tent in order to be +seen by the people on the shore.</p> + +<p>During these preparations the sea became +narrower and narrower, and the sailors dis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>covered +that they were entering the mouth of +a river. The water was fresh, and there was +land on both sides. The trirema glided slowly +onwards up the sparkling river. The weather +was brilliant, and the whole of nature was +gloriously peaceful. And how the magnificent +merchantman enlivened the great solitude!</p> + +<p>On both sides of the river primeval forests, +high and thick, met their view. Pine-trees grew +right to the water's edge. The river in its eternal +course had washed away the earth from the +roots, and the hearts of the seamen were moved +with solemn awe at the sight, not only of these +venerable trees, but even more by that of the +naked roots, which resembled the mighty limbs +of a giant. 'Here,' they thought, 'man will +never succeed in planting corn; here the ground +will never be cleared for the building of a city, +or even a farmstead. For miles round the earth +is woven through with this network of roots, +hard as steel. This alone is sufficient to make +the dominion of the forest everlasting and unchangeable.'</p> + +<p>Along the river the trees grew so close, and +their branches were so entangled, that they +formed firm, impenetrable walls. These walls of +prickly firs were so strong and high that no fortified +city need wish for stronger defences. But +here and there there was, all the same, an opening +in this wall of firs. It was the paths the wild +beasts had made on their way to the river to +drink. Through these openings the strangers +could obtain a glimpse of the interior of the forest. +They had never seen anything like it. In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +sunless twilight there grew trees with trunks +of greater circumference than the gate-towers on +the walls of Rome. There was a multitude of +trees, fighting with each other for light and air. +Trees strove and struggled, trees were crippled +and weighed down by other trees. Trees took +root in the branches of other trees. Trees strove +and fought as if they had been human beings.</p> + +<p>But if man or beast moved in this world of +trees they must have other modes of making +their way than those which the Romans knew, +for from the ground right up to the top of the +forest was a network of stiff bare branches. +From these branches fluttered long tangles of +gray lichen, transforming the trees into weird +beings with hair and beard. And beneath them +the ground was covered with rotten and rotting +trunks, and one's feet would have sunk into the +decayed wood as into melting snow.</p> + +<p>The forest sent forth a fragrance which had +a drowsy effect upon the men on board the +ship. It was the strong odour of resin and wild +honey that blended with the sickly smell from +the decayed wood, and from innumerable gigantic +red and yellow mushrooms.</p> + +<p>There was no doubt something awe-inspiring +in all this, but it was also elevating to see nature +in all its power before man had yet interfered +with its dominion. It was not long before one +of the sailors began to sing a hymn to the God +of the Forest, and involuntarily the whole crew +joined in. They had quite given up all thought +of meeting human beings in this forest-world. +Their hearts were filled with pious thoughts;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +they thought of the forest god and his nymphs. +They said to themselves that when Pan was +driven from the woods of Hellas he must have +taken refuge here in the far north. With pious +songs they entered his kingdom.</p> + +<p>Every time there was a pause in the song +they heard a gentle music from the forest. The +tops of the fir-trees, vibrating in the noonday +heat, sang and played. The sailors often discontinued +their song in order to listen, if Pan +was not playing upon his flute.</p> + +<p>The oarsmen rowed slower and slower. The +sailors gazed searchingly into the golden-green +and black-violet water flowing under the fir-trees. +They peered between the tall reeds which +quivered and rustled in the wash of the ship. +They were in such a state of expectation that +they started at the sight of the white water-lilies +that shone in the dark water between the +reeds.</p> + +<p>And again they sang the song, 'Pan, thou +ruler of the forest!' They had given up all +thoughts of trading. They felt that they stood +at the entrance to the dwelling of the gods. +All earthly cares had left them. Then, all of +a sudden, at the outlet of one of the tracks, there +stood an elk, a royal deer with broad forehead +and a forest of antlers on its horns.</p> + +<p>There was a breathless silence on the trirema. +They stemmed the oars to slacken speed. Silvius +Antonius arose from his purple couch.</p> + +<p>All eyes were fixed upon the elk. They +thought they could discern that it carried something +on its back, but the darkness of the forest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +and the drooping branches made it impossible +to see distinctly.</p> + +<p>The huge animal stood for a long time and +scented the air, with its muzzle turned towards +the trirema. At last it seemed to understand +that there was no danger. It made a step towards +the water. Behind the broad horns one +could now discern more distinctly something +light and white. They wondered if the elk carried +on its back a harvest of wild roses.</p> + +<p>The crew gently plied their oars. The trirema +drew nearer to the animal, which gradually +moved towards the edge of the reeds.</p> + +<p>The elk strode slowly into the water, put down +its feet carefully, so as not to be caught by the +roots at the bottom. Behind the horns one +could now distinctly see the face of a maiden, +surrounded by fair hair. The elk carried on its +back one of those nymphs whom they had been +expectantly awaiting, and whom they felt sure +would be found in this primeval world.</p> + +<p>A holy enthusiasm filled the men on the +trirema. One of them, who hailed from Sicily, +remembered a song which he had heard in his +youth, when he played on the flowery plains +around Syracuse. He began to sing softly:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Nymph, amongst flowers born, Arethusa by name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou who in sheltered wood wanders, white like the moon.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And when the weather-beaten men understood +the words, they tried to subdue the storm-like +roar in their voices in order to sing:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Nymph, amongst flowers born, Arethusa by name.'<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>They steered the ship nearer and nearer the +reeds. They did not heed that it had already +once or twice touched the bottom.</p> + +<p>But the young forest maiden sat and played +hide-and-seek between the horns. One moment +she hid herself, the next she peeped out. She +did not stop the elk; she drove it further into +the river.</p> + +<p>When the elk had gone some little distance, +she stroked it to make it stop. Then she bent +down and gathered two or three water-lilies. +The men on the ship looked a little foolishly at +each other. The nymph had, then, come solely +for the purpose of plucking the white water-lilies +that rocked on the waters of the river. She had +not come for the sake of the Roman seamen.</p> + +<p>Then Silvius Antonius drew a ring from off +his finger, sent up a shout that made the nymph +look up, and threw her the ring. She stretched +out her hand and caught it. Her eyes sparkled. +She stretched out her hands for more. Silvius +Antonius again threw a ring.</p> + +<p>Then she flung the water-lilies back into the +river and drove the elk further into the water. +Now and again she stopped, but then a ring +came flying from Silvius Antonius, and enticed +her further.</p> + +<p>All at once she overcame her hesitation. The +colour rose in her cheeks. She came nearer to +the ship without it being necessary to tempt her. +The water was already up to the shoulders of +the elk. She came right under the side of the +vessel.</p> + +<p>The sailors hung over the gunwales to help<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +the beautiful nymph, should she wish to go on +board the trirema.</p> + +<p>But she saw only Silvius Antonius, as he stood +there, decked with pearls and rings, and fair as +the sunrise. And when the young Roman saw +that the eyes of the nymph were fastened upon +him, he leant over even further than the others. +They cried to him that he should take care, lest +he should lose his balance and fall into the sea. +But this warning came too late. It is not known +whether the nymph, with a quick movement, +drew Silvius Antonius to her, or how it really +happened, but before anyone thought of grasping +him, he was overboard.</p> + +<p>All the same, there was no danger of Silvius +Antonius drowning. The nymph stretched forth +her lovely arms and caught him in them. He +hardly touched the surface of the water. At the +same moment her steed turned, rushed through +the water, and disappeared in the forest. And +loudly rang the laugh of the wild rider as she +carried off Silvius Antonius.</p> + +<p>Galenus and his men stood for a moment +horror-stricken. Then some of the men involuntarily +threw off their clothes to swim to the +shore; but Galenus stopped them.</p> + +<p>'Without doubt this is the will of the gods,' +he said. 'Now we see the reason why they have +brought Silvius Antonius Poppius through a +thousand storms to this unknown land. Let us +be glad that we have been an instrument in their +hands; and let us not seek to hinder their +will.'</p> + +<p>The seamen obediently took their oars and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +rowed down the river, softly singing to their +even stroke the song of Arethusa's flight.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>When one has finished this story, surely the +stranger must be able to understand the inscription +on the old stone. He must be able to see +both the elk with its many-antlered horns, and +the trirema with its long oars. One does not +expect that he shall be able to see Silvius Antonius +Poppius and the beautiful queen of the +primeval forest, for in order to see them he +must have the eyes of the relaters of fairy-tales +of bygone days. He will understand that the +inscription hales from the young Roman himself, +and that this also applies to the whole of the +old story. Silvius Antonius has handed it down +to his descendants word for word. He knew +that it would gladden their hearts to know that +they sprang from the world-famed Romans.</p> + +<p>But the stranger, of course, need not believe +that any of Pan's nymphs have wandered here +by the river's side. He understands quite well +that a tribe of wild men have wandered about +in the primeval forest, and that the rider of the +elk was the daughter of the King who ruled over +these people; and that the maiden who carried +off Silvius Antonius would only rob him of his +jewels, and that she did not at all think of Silvius +Antonius himself, scarcely knew, perhaps, that +he was a human being like herself. And the +stranger can also understand that the name of +Silvius Antonius would have been forgotten long +ago in this country had he remained the fool he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +was. He will hear how misfortune and want +roused the young Roman, so that from being +the despised slave of the wild men he became +their King. It was he who attacked the forest +with fire and steel. He erected the first firmly-timbered +house. He built vessels and planted +corn. He laid the foundation of the power and +glory of great Kungahälla.</p> + +<p>And when the stranger hears this, he looks +around the country with a more contented +glance than before. For even if the site of the +city has been turned into fields and meadows, +and even if the river no longer boasts of busy +craft, still, this is the ground that has enabled +him to breathe the air of the land of dreams, and +shown him visions of bygone days.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="Sigrid" id="Sigrid"><span class="smcap">Sigrid Storräde</span></a></h3> + +<p>Once upon a time there was an exceedingly +beautiful spring. It was the very spring that the +Swedish Queen Sigrid Storräde summoned the +Norwegian King Olaf Trygveson to meet her at +Kungahälla in order to settle about their marriage.</p> + +<p>It was strange that King Olaf would marry +Queen Sigrid; for although she was fair and +well-gifted, she was a wicked heathen, whilst +King Olaf was a Christian, who thought of +nothing but building churches and compelling +the people to be baptized. But maybe the King +thought that God the Almighty would convert +her.</p> + +<p>But it was even more strange that when Storräde +had announced to King Olaf's messenger +that she would set out for Kungahälla as soon +as the sea was no longer ice-bound, spring should +come almost immediately. Cold and snow disappeared +at the time when winter is usually at +its height. And when Storräde made known +that she would begin to equip her ships, the ice +vanished from the fjords, the meadows became +green, and although it was yet a long time to +Lady-day, the cattle could already be put out +to grass.</p> + +<p>When the Queen rowed between the rocks of +East Gothland into the Baltic, she heard the +cuckoo's song, although it was so early in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +year that one could scarcely expect to hear the +lark.</p> + +<p>And great joy prevailed everywhere when Storräde +proceeded on her way. All the trolls who +had been obliged to flee from Norway during +King Olaf's reign because they could not bear +the sound of the church bells came on the rocks +when they saw Storräde sailing past. They +pulled up young birch-trees by the roots and +waved them to the Queen, and then they went +back to their rocky dwellings, where their wives +were sitting, full of longing and anxiety, and +said:</p> + +<p>'Woman, thou shalt not be cast down any +longer. Storräde is now sailing to King Olaf. +Now we shall soon return to Norway.'</p> + +<p>When the Queen sailed past Kullen, the Kulla +troll came out of his cave, and he made the black +mountain open, so that she saw the gold and +silver veins which twisted through it, and it made +the Queen happy to see his riches.</p> + +<p>When Storräde went past the Holland rivers, +the Nixie came down from his waterfall, swam +right out to the mouth of the river, and played +upon his harp, so that the ship danced upon the +waves.</p> + +<p>When she sailed past the Nidinge rocks, the +mermen lay there and blew upon their seashell +horns, and made the water splash in frothy +pillars. And when the wind was against them, +the most loathsome trolls came out of the deep +to help Storräde's ship over the waves. Some +lay at the stern and pushed, others took ropes of +seaweed in their mouth and harnessed themselves +before the ship like horses.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p>The wild heathen, whom King Olaf would not +allow to remain in the country on account of +their great wickedness, came rowing towards the +Queen's ship, with sails furled, and with their +pole-axes raised as if for attack. But when they +recognised the Queen, they allowed her to pass +unhurt, and shouted after her:</p> + +<p>'We empty a beaker to thy wedding, Storräde.'</p> + +<p>All the heathen who lived along the coast laid +firewood upon their stone altars, and sacrificed +both sheep and goats to the old gods, in order +that they should aid Storräde in her expedition +to the Norwegian King.</p> + +<p>When the Queen sailed up the northern river, +a mermaid swam alongside the ship, stretched +her white arm out of the water, and gave her a +large clear pearl.</p> + +<p>'Wear this, Storräde,' she said; 'then King +Olaf will be so bewitched by thy beauty that he +will never be able to forget thee.'</p> + +<p>When the Queen had sailed a short distance +up the river, she heard such a roar and such a +rushing noise that she expected to find a waterfall. +The further she proceeded, the louder grew +the noise. But when she rowed past the Golden +Isle, and passed into a broad bay, she saw at +the riverside the great Kungahälla.</p> + +<p>The town was so large, that as far as she could +see up the river there was house after house, all +imposing and well timbered, with many outhouses. +Narrow lanes between the gray wooden +walls led down to the river; there were large +courtyards before the dwelling-houses, well-laid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +pathways went from each house down to its +boathouse and landing-stage.</p> + +<p>Storräde commanded her men to row quite +slowly. She herself stood on the poop of the +ship and looked towards the shore.</p> + +<p>'Never before have I seen the like of this,' she +said.</p> + +<p>She now understood that the roar she had +heard was nothing but the noise of the work +which went on at Kungahälla in the spring, when +the ships were being made ready for their long +cruises. She heard the smiths hammering with +huge sledge-hammers, the baker's shovel clattered +in the ovens; beams were hoisted on to +heavy lighters with much crashing noise; young +men planed oars and stripped the bark from the +trees which were to be used for masts.</p> + +<p>She saw green courtyards, where handmaidens +were twining ropes for the seafaring men, and +where old men sat mending the gray wadmal +sails. She saw the boat-builders tarring the new +boats. Enormous nails were driven into strong +oaken planks. The hulls of the ships were +hauled out of the boathouses to be tightened; +old ships were done up with freshly-painted +dragon-heads; goods were stowed away; people +took a hurried leave of each other; heavily-filled +ships' chests were carried on board. Ships that +were ready to sail left the shore. Storräde saw +that the vessels rowing up the river were heavily +laden with herrings and salt, but those making +for the open sea were laden high up the masts +with costly oak timber, hides, and skins.</p> + +<p>When the Queen saw all this she laughed with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +joy. She thought that she would willingly marry +King Olaf in order to rule over such a city. +Storräde rowed up to the King's Landing-Stage. +There King Olaf stood ready to receive her, and +when she advanced to meet him he thought that +she was the fairest woman he had ever seen.</p> + +<p>They then proceeded to the King's Hall, and +there was great harmony and friendship between +them. When they went to table Storräde +laughed and talked the whole time the Bishop +was saying grace, and the King laughed and +talked also, because he saw that it pleased Storräde. +When the meal was finished, and they all +folded their hands to listen to the Bishop's +prayer, Storräde began to tell the King about +her riches. She continued doing this as long as +the prayer lasted, and the King listened to Storräde, +and not to the Bishop.</p> + +<p>The King placed Storräde in the seat of +honour, whilst he sat at her feet; and Storräde +told him how she had caused two minor kings +to be burnt to death for having had the presumption +to woo her. The King was glad at +hearing this, and thought that all minor kings +who had the audacity to woo a woman like Storräde +should share the same fate.</p> + +<p>When the bells rang for Evensong, the King +rose to go to the Marie Church to pray, as was +his wont. But then Storräde called for her bard, +and he sang the lay of Brynhild Budles-dotter, +who caused Sigurd Fofnersbane to be slain; and +King Olaf did not go to church, but instead sat +and looked into Storräde's radiant eyes, under the +thick, black, arched eyebrows; and he under<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>stood +that Storräde was Brynhild, and that she +would kill him if ever he forsook her. He also +thought that she was no doubt a woman who +would be willing to burn on the pile with him. +And whilst the priests were saying Mass and +praying in the Marie Church at Kungahälla, +King Olaf sat thinking that he would ride to +Valhalla with Sigrid Storräde before him on the +horse.</p> + +<p>That night the ferryman who conveyed people +over the Göta River was busier than he had ever +been before. Time after time he was called to +the other side, but when he crossed over there +was never anybody to be seen. But all the same +he heard steps around him, and the boat was +so full that it was nearly sinking. He rowed the +whole night backwards and forwards, and did +not know what it could all mean. But in the +morning the whole shore was full of small footprints, +and in the footprints the ferryman found +small withered leaves, which on closer examination +proved to be pure gold, and he understood +they were the Brownies and Dwarfs who had +fled from Norway when it became a Christian +country, and who had now come back again. +And the giant who lived in the Fortin mountain +right to the east of Kungahälla threw one big +stone after the other at the Marie Church the +whole night through; and had not the giant +been so strong that all the stones went too far +and fell down at Hisingen, on the other side of +the river, a great disaster would assuredly have +happened.</p> + +<p>Every morning King Olaf was in the habit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +of going to Mass, but the day Storräde was at +Kungahälla he thought he had not the time. +As soon as he arose, he at once wanted to go +down to the harbour, where her ship lay, in order +to ask her if she would drink the wedding-cup +with him before eventide.</p> + +<p>The Bishop had caused the bells to be rung +the whole morning, and when the King left the +King's Hall, and went across the Market Place, +the church doors were thrown open, and beautiful +singing was heard from within. But the King +went on as if he had not heard anything. The +Bishop ordered the bells to be stopped, the +singing ceased, and the candles were extinguished.</p> + +<p>It all happened so suddenly that the King +involuntarily stopped and looked towards the +church, and it seemed to him that the church +was more insignificant than he had ever before +thought. It was smaller than the houses in the +town; the peat roof hung heavily over its low +walls without windows; the door was low, with +a small projecting roof covered with fir-bark.</p> + +<p>Whilst the King stood thinking, a slender +young woman came out of the dark church door. +She wore a red robe and a blue mantle, and +she bore in her arms a child with fair locks. Her +dress was poor, and yet it seemed to the King +that he had never before seen a more noble-looking +woman. She was tall, dignified, and fair of +face.</p> + +<p>The King saw with emotion that the young +woman pressed the child close to her, and carried +it with such care, that one could see it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +the most precious thing she possessed in the +world.</p> + +<p>As the woman stood in the doorway she turned +her gentle face round and looked back, looked +into the poor, dark little church with great longing +in look and mien. When she again turned +round towards the Market Place there were tears +in her eyes. But just as she was about to step +over the threshold into the Market Place her +courage failed her. She leant against the doorposts +and looked at the child with a troubled +glance, as if to say:</p> + +<p>'Where in all the wide world shall we find a +roof over our heads?'</p> + +<p>The King stood immovable, and looked at the +homeless woman. What touched him the most +was to see the child, who lay in her arms free from +sorrow, stretch out his hand with a flower towards +her, as if to win a smile from her. And +then he saw she tried to drive away the sorrow +from her face and smile at her son.</p> + +<p>'Who can that woman be?' thought the King. +'It seems to me that I have seen her before. +She is undoubtedly a high-born woman who is +in trouble.'</p> + +<p>However great a hurry the King was in to +go to Storräde, he could not take his eyes away +from the woman. It seemed to him that he had +seen these tender eyes and this gentle face before, +but where, he could not call to mind. The +woman still stood in the church door, as if she +could not tear herself away. Then the King +went up to her and asked:</p> + +<p>'Why art thou so sorrowful?'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + +<p>'I am turned out of my home,' answered the +woman, pointing to the little dark church.</p> + +<p>The King thought she meant that she had +taken refuge in the church because she had no +other place to go to. He again asked:</p> + +<p>'Who hath turned thee out?'</p> + +<p>She looked at him with an unutterably sorrowful +glance.</p> + +<p>'Dost thou not know?' she asked.</p> + +<p>But then the King turned away from her. He +had no time to stand guessing riddles, he +thought. It appeared as if the woman meant +that it was he who had turned her out. He did +not understand what she could mean.</p> + +<p>The King went on quickly. He went down to +the King's Landing-Stage, where Storräde's +ship was lying. At the harbour the Queen's +servants met the King. Their clothes were +braided with gold, and they wore silver helmets +on their heads.</p> + +<p>Storräde stood on her ship looking towards +Kungahälla, rejoicing in its power and wealth. +She looked at the city as if she already regarded +herself as its Queen. But when the King saw +Storräde, he thought at once of the gentle +woman who, poor and sorrowful, had been +turned out of the church.</p> + +<p>'What is this?' he thought. 'It seems to me +as if she were fairer than Storräde.'</p> + +<p>When Storräde greeted him with smiles, he +thought of the tears that sparkled in the eyes of +the other woman. The face of the strange +woman was so clear to King Olaf that he could +not help comparing it, feature for feature, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +Storräde's. And when he did that all Storräde's +beauty vanished. He saw that Storräde's eyes +were cruel and her mouth sensual. In each of +her features he saw a sin. He could still see +she was beautiful, but he no longer took pleasure +in her countenance. He began to loathe her +as if she were a beautiful poisonous snake.</p> + +<p>When the Queen saw the King come a victorious +smile passed over her lips.</p> + +<p>'I did not expect thee so early, King Olaf,' +she said. 'I thought thou wast at Mass.'</p> + +<p>The King felt an irresistible inclination to contradict +Storräde, and do everything she did not +want.</p> + +<p>'Mass has not yet begun,' he said. 'I have +come to ask thee to go with me to the house of +my God.'</p> + +<p>When the King said this he saw an angry look +in Storräde's eyes, but she continued to smile.</p> + +<p>'Rather come to me on my ship,' she said, +'and I will show thee the presents I have +brought for thee.'</p> + +<p>She took up a sword inlaid with gold, as if to +tempt him; but the King thought all the +time that he could see the other woman at her +side, and it appeared to him that Storräde stood +amongst her treasures like a foul dragon.</p> + +<p>'Answer me first,' said the King, 'if thou wilt +go with me to church.'</p> + +<p>'What have I to do in thy church?' she asked +mockingly.</p> + +<p>Then she saw that the King's brow darkened, +and she perceived that he was not of the same +mind as the day before. She immediately<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +changed her manner, and became gentle and +submissive.</p> + +<p>'Go thou to church as much as thou likest, +even if I do not go. There shall be no discord +between us on that account.'</p> + +<p>The Queen came down from the ship and went +up to the King. She held in her hand a sword +and a mantle trimmed with fur which she would +give him. But in the same moment the King +happened to look towards the harbour. At some +distance he saw the other woman; her head +was bowed, and she walked with weary steps, +but she still bore the child in her arms.</p> + +<p>'What art thou looking so eagerly after, King +Olaf?' Storräde asked.</p> + +<p>Then the other woman turned round and +looked at the King, and as she looked at him +it appeared to him as if a ring of golden light +surrounded her head and that of the child, more +beautiful than the crown of any King or Queen. +Then she immediately turned round and walked +again towards the town, and he saw her no more.</p> + +<p>'What art thou looking so eagerly after?' +again asked Storräde.</p> + +<p>But when King Olaf now turned to the Queen +she appeared to him old and ugly, and full of +the world's sin and wickedness, and he was terrified +at the thought that he might have fallen +into her snares.</p> + +<p>He had taken off his glove to give her his +hand; but he now took the glove and threw it +in her face instead.</p> + +<p>'I will not own thee, foul woman and heathen +dog that thou art!' he said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then Storräde drew backwards. But she soon +regained the command over herself, and answered:</p> + +<p>'That blow may prove thy destruction, King +Olaf Trygveson.'</p> + +<p>And she was white as Hél when she turned +away from him and went on board her ship.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Next night King Olaf had a strange dream. +What he saw in his dream was not the earth, but +the bottom of the sea. It was a grayish-green +field, over which there were many fathoms of +water. He saw fish swimming after their prey; +he saw ships gliding past on the surface of the +water, like dark clouds; and he saw the disc of +the sun, dull as a pale moon.</p> + +<p>Then he saw the woman he had seen at the +church-door wandering along the bottom of the +sea. She had the same stooping gait and the +same worn garments as when he first saw her, +and her face was still sorrowful. But as she +wandered along the bottom of the sea the water +divided before her. He saw that it rose into +pillars, as if in deep reverence, forming itself into +arches, so that she walked in the most glorious +temple.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the King saw that the water which +surrounded the woman began to change colour. +The pillars and the arches first became pale pink; +but they soon assumed a darker colour. The +whole sea around was also red, as if it had been +changed into blood.</p> + +<p>At the bottom of the sea, where the woman +walked, the King saw broken swords and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +arrows, and bows and spears in pieces. At first +there were not many, but the longer she +walked in the red water the more closely they +were heaped together.</p> + +<p>The King saw with emotion that the woman +went to one side in order not to tread upon a +dead man who lay stretched upon the bed of +green seaweed. The man, who had a deep cut +in his head, wore a coat of mail, and had a sword +in his hand. It seemed to the King that the +woman closed her eyes so as not to see the dead +man. She moved towards a fixed goal without +hesitation or doubt. But he who dreamt could +not turn his eyes away.</p> + +<p>He saw the bottom of the sea covered with +wreckage. He saw heavy anchors, thick ropes +twined about like snakes, ships with their sides +riven asunder; golden dragon-heads from the +bows of ships stared at him with red, threatening +eyes.</p> + +<p>'I should like to know who has fought a battle +here and left all this as a prey to destruction,' +thought the dreamer.</p> + +<p>Everywhere he saw dead men. They were +hanging on the ships' sides, or had sunk into +the green seaweed. But he did not give himself +time to look at them, for his eyes were obliged +to follow the woman, who continued to walk onwards.</p> + +<p>At last the King saw her stop at the side of +a dead man. He was clothed in a red mantle, +had a bright helmet on his head, a shield on his +arm, and a naked sword in his hand.</p> + +<p>The woman bent over him and whispered to +him, as if awaking someone sleeping:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> + +<p>'King Olaf! King Olaf!'</p> + +<p>Then he who was dreaming saw that the man +at the bottom of the sea was himself. He could +distinctly see that he was the dead man.</p> + +<p>As the dead did not move, the woman knelt +by his side and whispered into his ear:</p> + +<p>'Now Storräde hath sent her fleet against thee +and avenged herself. Dost thou repent what +thou hast done, King Olaf?'</p> + +<p>And again she asked:</p> + +<p>'Now thou sufferest the bitterness of death +because thou hast chosen me instead of Storräde. +Dost thou repent? dost thou repent?'</p> + +<p>Then at last the dead opened his eyes, and the +woman helped him to rise. He leant upon her +shoulder, and she walked slowly away with him.</p> + +<p>Again King Olaf saw her wander and wander, +through night and day, over sea and land. At +last it seemed to him that they had gone further +than the clouds and higher than the stars. Now +they entered a garden, where the earth shone +as light and the flowers were clear as dewdrops.</p> + +<p>The King saw that when the woman entered +the garden she raised her head, and her step grew +lighter. When they had gone a little further into +the garden her garments began to shine. He +saw that they became, as of themselves, bordered +with golden braid, and coloured with the +hues of the rainbow. He saw also that a halo +surrounded her head that cast a light over her +countenance.</p> + +<p>But the slain man who leant upon her shoulder +raised his head, and asked:</p> + +<p>'Who art thou?'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Dost thou not know, King Olaf?' she answered; +and an infinite majesty and glory +encompassed her.</p> + +<p>But in the dream King Olaf was filled with +a great joy because he had chosen to serve the +gentle Queen of Heaven. It was a joy so great +that he had never before felt the like of it, and it +was so strong that it awoke him.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>When King Olaf awoke his face was bathed +in tears, and he lay with his hands folded in +prayer.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="Astrid" id="Astrid"><span class="smcap">Astrid</span></a></h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>In the midst of the low buildings forming the +old Castle of the Kings at Upsala towered the +Ladies' Bower. It was built on poles, like +a dovecote. The staircase leading up to it was +as steep as a ladder, and one entered it by a very +low door. The walls inside were covered with +runes, signifying love and longing; the sills of +the small loopholes were worn by the maidens +leaning on their elbows and looking down into +the courtyard.</p> + +<p>Old Hjalte, the bard, had been a guest at the +King's Castle for some time, and he went up +every day to the Ladies' Bower to see Princess +Ingegerd, and talk with her about Olaf Haraldsson, +the King of Norway, and every time Hjalte +came Ingegerd's bondwoman Astrid sat and listened +to his words with as much pleasure as the +Princess. And whilst Hjalte talked, both the +maidens listened so eagerly that they let their +hands fall in their laps and their work rest.</p> + +<p>Anyone seeing them would not think much +spinning or weaving could be done in the +Ladies' Bower. No one would have thought +that they gathered all Hjalte's words as if they +were silken threads, and that each of his listeners +made from them her own picture of King Olaf.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +No one could know that in their thoughts they +wove the Bard's words each into her own radiant +picture.</p> + +<p>But so it was. And the Princess's picture was +so beautiful that every time she saw it before +her she felt as if she must fall on her knees and +worship it. For she saw the King sitting on +his throne, crowned and great; she saw a red, +gold-embroidered mantle hanging from his +shoulders to his feet. She saw no sword in his +hand, but holy writings; and she also saw that +his throne was supported by a chained troll. +His face shone for her, white like wax, surrounded +by long, soft locks, and his eyes beamed +with piety and peace. Oh, she became nearly +afraid when she saw the almost superhuman +strength that shone from that pale face. She +understood that King Olaf was not only a King, +she saw that he was a saint, and the equal of the +angels.</p> + +<p>But quite different was the picture which +Astrid had made of the King. The fair-haired +bondwoman, who had experienced both hunger +and cold and suffered much hardship, but who +all the same was the one who filled the Ladies' +Bower with merriment and laughter, had in her +mind an entirely different picture of the King. +She could not help that every time she heard +him spoken about she saw before her the wood-cutter's +son who at eventide came out of the +wood with the axe over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>'I can see thee—I can see thee so well,' +Astrid said to the picture, as if it were a living +being. 'Tall thou art not, but broad of shoulders<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +and light and agile, and because thou hast +walked about in the dark forest the whole long +summer day thou takest the last few steps in +one spring, and laughest when thou reachest +the road. Then thy white teeth shine, and thy +hair flies about, and that I love to see. I can +see thee; thou hast a fair, ruddy face and freckles +on thy nose, and thou hast blue eyes, which become +dark and stern in the deep forest; but +when thou comest so far that thou seest the +valley and thy home, they become light and +gentle. As soon as thou seest thine own hut +down in the valley, thou raisest thy cap for a +greeting, and then I see thy forehead. Is not +that forehead befitting a King? Should not that +broad forehead be able to wear both crown and +helmet?'</p> + +<p>But however different these two pictures were, +one thing is certain: just as much as the Princess +loved the holy picture she had conjured +forth, so did the poor bondwoman love the bold +swain whom she saw coming from the depths of +the forest to meet her.</p> + +<p>And had Hjalte the Bard been able to see +these pictures he would have assuredly praised +them both. He would assuredly have said that +they both were like the King. For that is King +Olaf's good fortune, he would have been sure to +say, that he is a fresh and merry swain at the +same time that he is God's holy warrior. For +old Hjalte loved King Olaf, and although he +had wandered from court to court he had never +been able to find his equal.</p> + +<p>'Where can I find anyone to make me forget<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +Olaf Haraldsson?' he was wont to say. 'Where +shall I find a greater hero?'</p> + +<p>Hjalte the Bard was a rough old man and +severe of countenance. Old as he was, his hair +was still black, he was dark of complexion, and +his eyes were keen, and his song had always +tallied with his appearance. His tongue never +uttered other words than those of strife; he had +never made other lays than songs of war.</p> + +<p>Old Hjalte's heart had hitherto been like the +stony waste outside the wood-cutter's hut; it had +been like a rocky plain, where only poor ferns +and dry mugworts could grow. But now +Hjalte's roving life had brought him to the +Court at Upsala, and he had seen the Princess +Ingegerd. He had seen that she was the noblest +of all the women he had met in his life—in truth, +the Princess was just as much fairer than all +other women as King Olaf was greater than all +other men.</p> + +<p>Then the thought suddenly arose within +Hjalte that he would try to awaken love between +the Swedish Princess and the Norwegian +King. He asked himself why she, who was the +best amongst women, should not be able to love +King Olaf, the most glorious amongst men? +And after that thought had taken root in Hjalte's +heart he gave up making his stern war-songs. +He gave up trying to win praise and honour +from the rough warriors at the Court of Upsala, +and sat for many hours with the women in the +Ladies' Bower, and one would never have +thought that it was Hjalte who spoke. One +would never have believed that he possessed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +such soft and fair and gentle words which he +now used in speaking about King Olaf.</p> + +<p>No one would have known Hjalte again; he +was entirely transformed ever since the thought +of the marriage had arisen within him. When +the beautiful thought took root in Hjalte's soul, +it was as if a blushing rose, with soft and fragrant +petals, had sprung up in the midst of a +wilderness.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>One day Hjalte sat with the Princess in the +Ladies' Bower. All the maidens were absent +except Astrid. Hjalte thought that now he had +spoken long enough about Olaf Haraldsson. +He had said all the fair words he could about +him, but had it been of any avail? What did +the Princess think of the King? Then he began +to lay snares for the Princess to find out what +she thought of King Olaf.</p> + +<p>'I can see from a look or a blush,' he thought.</p> + +<p>But the Princess was a high-born lady; she +knew how to conceal her thoughts. She neither +blushed nor smiled, neither did her eyes betray +her. She would not let Hjalte divine what she +thought.</p> + +<p>When the Bard looked into her noble face he +was ashamed of himself.</p> + +<p>'She is too good for anyone to take her by +stealth,' he said; 'one must meet her in open +warfare.' So Hjalte said straight out: 'Daughter +of a King, if Olaf Haraldsson asked thee in +marriage of thy father, what wouldst thou answer?'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then the young Princess's face lit up, as does +the face of a man when he reaches the mountain-top +and discovers the ocean. Without hesitation +she replied at once:</p> + +<p>'If he be such a King and such a Christian as +thou sayest, Hjalte, then I consider it would be +a great happiness.'</p> + +<p>But scarcely had she said this before the light +faded from her eyes. It was as if a cloud rose +between her and the beautiful far-off vision.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Hjalte,' she said, 'thou forgettest one +thing. King Olaf is our enemy. It is war and +not wooing we may expect from him.'</p> + +<p>'Do not let that trouble thee,' said Hjalte. +'If thou only wilt, all is well. I know King +Olaf's mind in this matter.'</p> + +<p>The Bard was so glad that he laughed when +he said this; but the Princess grew more and +more sorrowful.</p> + +<p>'No,' she said, 'neither upon me nor King +Olaf does it depend, but upon my father, Oluf +Skötkonung, and you know that he hates Olaf +Haraldsson, and cannot bear that anyone should +even mention his name. Never will he let me +leave my father's house with an enemy; never +will he give his daughter to Olaf Haraldsson.'</p> + +<p>When the Princess had said this, she laid aside +all her pride and began to lament her fate.</p> + +<p>'Of what good is it that I have now learnt to +know Olaf Haraldsson,' she said, 'that I dream +of him every night, and long for him every day? +Would it not have been better if thou hadst +never come hither and told me about him?'</p> + +<p>When the Princess had spoken these words,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +her eyes filled with tears; but when Hjalte saw +her tears, he lifted his hand fervent and eager.</p> + +<p>'God wills it,' he cried. 'Ye belong to one +another. Strife must exchange its red mantle +for the white robe of peace, that your happiness +may give joy unto the earth.'</p> + +<p>When Hjalte had said this, the Princess bowed +her head before God's holy name, and when she +raised it, it was with a newly awakened hope.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>When old Hjalte stepped through the low door +of the Ladies' Bower, and went down the narrow +open corridor, Astrid followed him.</p> + +<p>'Hjalte,' she cried, 'why dost thou not ask +me what I would answer if Olaf Haraldsson +asked for my hand?'</p> + +<p>It was the first time Astrid had spoken to +Hjalte; but Hjalte only cast a hurried glance +at the fair bondwoman, whose golden hair curled +on her temples and neck, who had the broadest +bracelets and the heaviest ear-rings, whose dress +was fastened with silken cords, and whose bodice +was so embroidered with pearls that it was as +stiff as armour, and went on without answering.</p> + +<p>'Why dost thou only ask Princess Ingegerd?' +continued Astrid. 'Why dost thou not also ask +me? Dost thou not know that I, too, am the +Svea-King's daughter? Dost thou not know,' +she continued, when Hjalte did not answer, 'that +although my mother was a bondwoman, she was +the bride of the King's youth? Dost thou not +know that whilst she lived no one dared to remind +her of her birth? Oh, Hjalte, dost thou<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +not know that it was only after she was dead, +when the King had taken to himself a Queen, +that everyone remembered that she was a bondwoman? +It was first after I had a stepmother +that the King began to think I was not of free +birth. But am I not a King's daughter, Hjalte, +even if my father counts me for so little, that he +has allowed me to fall into bondage? Am I not +a King's daughter, even if my stepmother allowed +me to go in rags, whilst my sister went +in cloth of gold? Am I not a King's daughter, +even if my stepmother has allowed me to tend the +geese and taste the whip of the slave? And if I +am a King's daughter, why dost thou not ask +me whether I will wed Olaf Haraldsson? See, I +have golden hair that shines round my head like +the sun. See, I have sparkling eyes; I have +roses in my cheeks. Why should not King Olaf +woo me?'</p> + +<p>She followed Hjalte across the courtyard all +the way to the King's Hall; but Hjalte took no +more heed of her words than a warrior clad in +armour heeds a boy throwing stones. He took +no more notice of her words than if she had +been a chattering magpie in the top of a tree.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>No one must think that Hjalte contented himself +with having won Ingegerd for his King. +The next day the old Icelander summoned up his +courage and spoke to Oluf Skötkonung about +Olaf Haraldsson. But he hardly had time to +say a word; the King interrupted him as soon as +he mentioned the name of his foe. Hjalte saw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +that the Princess was right. He thought he had +never before seen such bitter hatred.</p> + +<p>'But that marriage will take place all the +same,' said Hjalte. 'It is the will of God—the +will of God.'</p> + +<p>And it really seemed as if Hjalte were right. +Two or three days later a messenger came from +King Olaf of Norway to make peace with the +Swedes. Hjalte sought the messenger, and told +him that peace between the two countries could +be most firmly established by a marriage taking +place between Princess Ingegerd and Olaf Haraldsson.</p> + +<p>The King's messenger hardly thought that old +Hjalte was the man to incline a young maiden's +heart to a stranger; but he thought, all the same, +that the plan was a good one; and he promised +Hjalte that he would lay the proposal of the +marriage before King Oluf Skötkonung at the +great Winter Ting.</p> + +<p>Immediately afterwards Hjalte left Upsala. +He went from farm to farm on the great plain; +he went far into the forests; he went even to the +borders of the sea. He never met either man or +woman without speaking to them about Olaf +Haraldsson and Princess Ingegerd. 'Hast thou +ever heard of a greater man or of a fairer +woman?' he said. 'It is assuredly the will of +God that they shall wander through life together.'</p> + +<p>Hjalte came upon old Vikings, who wintered +at the seashore, and who had formerly carried +off women from every coast. He talked to them +about the beautiful Princess until they sprang<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +up and promised him, with their hand on the +hilt of their sword, that they would do what they +could to help her to happiness.</p> + +<p>Hjalte went to stubborn old peasants who +had never listened to the prayers of their own +daughters, but had given them in marriage as +shrewdness, family honour, and advantage required, +and he spoke to them so wisely about the +peace between the two countries and the marriage +that they swore they would rather deprive +the King of his kingdom than that this marriage +should not come to pass.</p> + +<p>But to the young women Hjalte spoke so +many good words about Olaf Haraldsson that +they vowed they would never look with kindly +eyes at the swain who did not stand by the Norwegian +King's messenger at the Ting and help +to break down the King's opposition.</p> + +<p>Thus Hjalte went about talking to people until +the Winter Ting should assemble, and all the +people, along snow-covered roads, proceeded to +the great Ting Hills at Upsala.</p> + +<p>When the Ting was opened, the eagerness of +the people was so great that it seemed as if the +stars would fall down from the sky were this +marriage not decided upon. And although the +King twice roughly said 'No' both to the peace +and to the wooing, it was of no avail. It was +of no avail that he would not hear the name of +King Olaf mentioned. The people only shouted: +'We will not have war with Norway. We will +that these two, who by all are accounted the +greatest, shall wander through life together.'</p> + +<p>What could old Oluf Skötkonung do when the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +people rose against him with threats, strong +words, and clashing of shields? What was he to +do when he saw nothing but swords lifted and +angry men before him? Was he not compelled +to promise his daughter away if he would keep his +life and his crown? Must he not swear to send +the Princess to Kungahälla next summer to meet +King Olaf there?</p> + +<p>In this way the whole people helped to further +Ingegerd's love. But no one helped Astrid to the +attainment of her happiness; no one asked her +about her love. And yet it lived—it lived like the +child of the poor fisherman's widow, in want and +need; but all the same it grew, happily and hopefully. +It grew and thrived, for in Astrid's soul +there were, as at the sea, fresh air and light and +breezy waves.</p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>In the rich city of Kungahälla, far away at the +border, was the old castle of the kings. It was +surrounded by green ramparts. Huge stones +stood as sentinels outside the gates, and in the +courtyard grew an oak large enough to shelter +under its branches all the King's henchmen.</p> + +<p>The whole space inside the ramparts was covered +with long, low wooden houses. They were +so old that grass grew on the ridges of the roofs. +The beams in the walls were made from the thickest +trees of the forest, silver-white with age.</p> + +<p>In the beginning of the summer Olaf Haraldsson +came to Kungahälla, and he gathered together +in the castle everything necessary for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +celebration of his marriage. For several weeks +peasants came crowding up the long street, bringing +gifts: butter in tubs, cheese in sacks, hops +and salt, roots and flour.</p> + +<p>After the gifts had been brought to the castle, +there was a continual procession of wedding +guests through the street. There were great men +and women on side-saddles, with a numerous +retinue of servants and serfs. Then came hosts +of players and singers, and the reciters of the +Sagas. Merchants came all the way from Venderland +and Gardarike, to tempt the King with +bridal gifts.</p> + +<p>When these processions for two whole weeks +had filled the town with noise and bustle they +only awaited the last procession, the bride's.</p> + +<p>But the bridal procession was long in coming. +Every day they expected that she would come +ashore at the King's Landing-Stage, and from +there, headed by drum and fife, and followed by +merry swains and serious priests, proceed up the +street to the King's Castle. But the bride's procession +came not.</p> + +<p>When the bride was so long in coming, everybody +looked at King Olaf to see if he were uneasy. +But the King always showed an undisturbed face.</p> + +<p>'If it be the will of God,' the King said, 'that I +shall possess this fair woman, she will assuredly +come.'</p> + +<p>And the King waited, whilst the grass fell for +the scythe, and the cornflowers blossomed in the +rye. The King still waited when the flax was +pulled up, and the hops ripened on the poles. He +was still waiting, when the bramble blackened on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +the mountain-side, and the <span class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: Possibly hip">nip</span> reddened on the +naked branch of the <span class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: Possibly rosebush">hawthorn</span>.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Hjalte had spent the whole summer at Kungahälla +waiting for the marriage. No one awaited +the arrival of the Princess more eagerly than he +did. He assuredly awaited her with greater longing +and anxiety than even King Olaf himself.</p> + +<p>Hjalte no longer felt at his ease with the warriors +in the King's Hall. But lower down the +river there was a landing-stage where the women +of Kungahälla were wont to assemble to see the +last of their husbands and sons, when they sailed +for distant lands. Here they were also in the +habit of gathering during the summer, to watch +for the vessels coming up the river, and to weep +over those who had departed. To that bridge +Hjalte wended his way every day. He liked best +to be amongst those who longed and sorrowed.</p> + +<p>Never had any of the women who sat waiting +at Weeping Bridge gazed down the river with +more anxious look than did Hjalte the Bard. No +one looked more eagerly at every approaching +sail. Sometimes Hjalte stole away to the Marie +Church. He never prayed for anything for himself. +He only came to remind the Saints about +this marriage, which must come to pass, which +God Himself had willed.</p> + +<p>Most of all Hjalte liked to speak with King Olaf +Haraldsson alone. It was his greatest happiness +to sit and tell him of every word that had fallen +from the lips of the King's daughter. He described +her every feature.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> + +<p>'King Olaf,' he said to him, 'pray to God +that she may come to thee. Every day I see +thee warring against ancient heathendom which +hides like an owl in the darkness of the forest, +and in the mountain-clefts. But the falcon, King +Olaf, will never be able to overcome the owl. +Only a dove can do that, only a dove.'</p> + +<p>The Bard asked the King whether it was not +his desire to vanquish all his enemies. Was it +not his intention to be alone master in the land? +But in that he would never succeed. He would +never succeed until he had won the crown which +Hjalte had chosen for him, a crown so resplendent +with brightness and glory that everyone must +bow before him who owned it.</p> + +<p>And last of all he asked the King if he were +desirous of gaining the mastery over himself. +But he would never succeed in overcoming the +wilfulness of his own heart if he did not win a +shield which Hjalte had seen in the Ladies' +Bower at the King's Castle at Upsala. It was +a shield from which shone the purity of heaven. +It was a shield which protected from all sin and +the lusts of the flesh.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>But harvest came and they were still waiting +for the Princess. One after the other the great +men who had come to Kungahälla for the marriage +festivities were obliged to depart. The last +to take his leave was old Hjalte the Bard. It +was with a heavy heart he set sail, but he was +obliged to return to his home in distant Iceland +before Christmas came.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<p>Old Hjalte had not gone further than the rocky +islands outside the mouth of the northern river +before he met a galley. He immediately ordered +his men to stop rowing. At the first glance he +recognised the dragon-headed ship belonging to +Princess Ingegerd. Without hesitation Hjalte +told his men to row him to the galley. He gave +up his place at the rudder to another, and placed +himself with joyous face at the prow of the boat.</p> + +<p>'It will make me happy to behold the fair +maiden once more,' the Bard said. 'It gladdens +my heart that her gentle face will be the last I +shall see before sailing for Iceland.'</p> + +<p>All the wrinkles had disappeared from Hjalte's +face when he went on board the dragon-ship. +He greeted the brave lads who plied the oars +as friendlily as if they were his comrades, and +he handed a golden ring to the maiden, who, +with much deference, conducted him to the +women's tent in the stern of the ship. Hjalte's +hand trembled when he lifted the hangings that +covered the entrance to the tent. He thought +this was the most beautiful moment of his life.</p> + +<p>'Never have I fought for a greater cause,' he +said. 'Never have I longed so eagerly for anything +as this marriage.'</p> + +<p>But when Hjalte entered the tent, he drew +back a step in great consternation. His face expressed +the utmost confusion. He saw a tall, +beautiful woman. She advanced to meet him with +outstretched hand. But the woman was not Ingegerd.</p> + +<p>Hjalte's eyes looked searchingly round the +narrow tent to find the Princess. He certainly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +saw that the woman who stood before him was +a King's daughter. Only the daughter of a King +could look at him with such a proud glance, and +greet him with such dignity. And she wore the +band of royalty on her forehead, and was attired +like a Queen. But why was she not Ingegerd? +Hjalte angrily asked the strange woman:</p> + +<p>'Who art thou?'</p> + +<p>'Dost thou not know me, Hjalte? I am the +King's daughter, to whom thou hast spoken +about Olaf Haraldsson.'</p> + +<p>'I have spoken with a King's daughter about +Olaf Haraldsson, but her name was Ingegerd.'</p> + +<p>'Ingegerd is also my name.'</p> + +<p>'Thy name can be what thou likest, but thou +art not the Princess. What is the meaning of +all this? Will the Svea-King deceive King +Olaf?'</p> + +<p>'He will not by any means deceive him. He +sends him his daughter as he has promised.'</p> + +<p>Hjalte was not far from drawing his sword +to slay the strange woman. He had his hand +already on the hilt, but he bethought himself it +was not befitting a warrior to take the life of a +woman. But he would not waste more words +over this impostor. He turned round to go.</p> + +<p>The stranger with gentle voice called him +back.</p> + +<p>'Where art thou going, Hjalte? Dost thou +intend to go to Kungahälla to report this to Olaf +Haraldsson?'</p> + +<p>'That is my intention,' answered Hjalte, without +looking at her.</p> + +<p>'Why, then, dost thou leave me, Hjalte? Why<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +dost thou not remain with me? I, too, am going +to Kungahälla.'</p> + +<p>Hjalte now turned round and looked at her.</p> + +<p>'Hast thou, then, no pity for an old man?' +he said. 'I tell thee that my whole mind is set +upon this marriage. Let me hear the full +measure of my misfortune. Is Princess Ingegerd +not coming?'</p> + +<p>Then the Princess gave over fooling Hjalte.</p> + +<p>'Come into my tent and sit down,' she said, +'and I will tell thee all that thou wouldest know. +I see it is of no use to hide the truth from +thee.'</p> + +<p>Then she began to tell him everything:</p> + +<p>'The summer was already drawing to a close. +The blackcock's lively young ones had already +strong feathers in their cloven tails and firmness +in their rounded wings; they had already begun +to flutter about amongst the close branches of +the pine-forest with quick, noisy strokes.</p> + +<p>'It happened one morning that the Svea-King +came riding across the plain; he was returning +from a successful chase. There hung from the +pommel of his saddle a shining blue-black blackcock, +a tough old fellow, with red eyebrows, +as well as four of his half-grown young ones, +which on account of their youth were still garbed +in many-coloured hues. And the King was very +proud; he thought it was not every man's luck +to make such a bag with falcon and hawk in +one morning.</p> + +<p>'But that morning Princess Ingegerd and her +maidens stood at the gates of the castle waiting +for the King. And amongst the maidens was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +one, Astrid by name; she was the daughter of +the Svea-King just as much as Ingegerd, +although her mother was not a free woman, and +she was therefore treated as a bondmaiden. And +this young maiden stood and showed her sister +how the swallows gathered in the fields and chose +the leaders for their long journey. She reminded +her that the summer was soon over—the summer +that should have witnessed the marriage of Ingegerd—and +urged her to ask the King why she +might not set out on her journey to King Olaf; +for Astrid wished to accompany her sister on +the journey. She thought that if she could but +once see Olaf Haraldsson, she would have pleasure +from it all her life.</p> + +<p>'But when the Svea-King saw the Princess, he +rode up to her.</p> + +<p>'"Look, Ingegerd," he said, "here are five +blackcocks hanging from my saddle. In one +morning I have killed five blackcocks. Who +dost thou think can boast of better luck? Have +you ever heard of a King making a better capture?"</p> + +<p>'But then the Princess was angered that he +who barred the way for her happiness should +come so proudly and praise his own good luck. +And to make an end of the uncertainty that had +tormented her for so many weeks, she replied:</p> + +<p>'"Thou, father, hast with great honour killed +five blackcocks, but I know of a King who in +one morning captured five other Kings, and that +was Olaf Haraldsson, the hero whom thou hast +selected to be my husband."</p> + +<p>'Then the Svea-King sprang off his horse in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +great fury, and advanced towards the Princess +with clenched hands.</p> + +<p>'"What troll hath bewitched thee?" he asked. +"What herb hath poisoned thee? How hath thy +mind been turned to this man?"</p> + +<p>'Ingegerd did not answer; she drew back, +frightened. Then the King became quieter.</p> + +<p>'"Fair daughter," he said to her, "dost thou +not know how dear thou art to me? How should +I, then, give thee to one whom I cannot endure? +I should like my best wishes to go with thee on +thy journey. I should like to sit as guest in +thy hall. I tell thee thou must turn thy mind +to the Kings of other lands, for Norway's King +shall never own thee."</p> + +<p>'At these words the Princess became so confused +that she could find no other words than +these with which to answer the King:</p> + +<p>'"I did not ask thee; it was the will of the +people."</p> + +<p>'The King then asked her if she thought that +the Svea-King was a slave, who could not dispose +of his own offspring, or if there were a +master over him who had the right to give away +his daughters.</p> + +<p>'"Will the Svea-King be content to hear +himself called a breaker of oaths?" asked the +Princess.</p> + +<p>'Then the Svea-King laughed aloud.</p> + +<p>'"Do not let that trouble thee. No one shall +call me that. Why dost thou question about +this, thou who art a woman? There are still +men in my Council; they will find a way out +of it."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Then the King turned towards his henchmen +who had been with him to the chase.</p> + +<p>'"My will is bound by this promise," he said +to them. "How shall I be released from it?"</p> + +<p>'But none of the King's men answered a word; +no one knew how to counsel him.</p> + +<p>'Then Oluf Skötkonung became very wrath; +he became like a madman.</p> + +<p>'"So much for your wisdom," he shouted +again and again to his men. "I will be free. +Why do people laud your wisdom?"</p> + +<p>'Whilst the King raged and shouted, and no +one knew how to answer him, the maiden Astrid +stepped forward from amongst the other women +and made a proposal.</p> + +<p>'Hjalte must really believe her when she told +him that it was only because she found it so +amusing that she could not help saying it, and +not in the least because she thought it could +really be done.</p> + +<p>'"Why dost thou not send me?" she had said. +"I am also thy daughter. Why dost thou not +send me to the Norwegian King?"</p> + +<p>'But when Ingegerd heard Astrid say these +words, she grew pale.</p> + +<p>'"Be silent, and go thy way!" she said +angrily. "Go thy way, thou tattler, thou deceitful, +wicked thing, to propose such a shameful +thing to my father!"</p> + +<p>'But the King would not allow Astrid to go. +On the contrary! on the contrary! He stretched +out his arms and drew her to his breast. He +both laughed and cried, and was as wild with joy +as a child.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> + +<p>'"Oh," he shouted, "what an idea! What +a heathenish trick! Let us call Astrid Ingegerd, +and entrap the King of Norway into marrying +her. And afterwards when the rumour gets +abroad that she is born of a bondwoman, many +will rejoice in their hearts, and Olaf Haraldsson +will be held in scorn and derision."</p> + +<p>'But then Ingegerd went up to the King, and +prayed:</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, father! do not do this thing. +King Olaf is dear at heart to me. Surely thou +wilt not grieve me by thus deceiving him."</p> + +<p>'And she added that she would patiently do +the bidding of her royal father, and give up all +thought of marriage with Olaf Haraldsson, if +he would only promise not to do him this injury.</p> + +<p>'But the Svea-King would not listen to her +prayers. He turned to Astrid and caressed her, +just as if she were as beautiful as revenge itself.</p> + +<p>'"Thou shalt go! thou shalt go soon—to-morrow!" +he said. "All thy dowry, thy clothes, +my dear daughter, and thy retinue, can all be +collected in great haste. The Norwegian King +will not think of such things; he is too taken up +with joy at the thought of possessing the high-born +daughter of the Svea-King."</p> + +<p>'Then Ingegerd understood that she could +hope for no mercy. And she went up to her +sister, put her arm round her neck, and conducted +her to the hall. Here she placed her in +her own seat of honour, whilst she herself sat +down on a low stool at her feet. And she said +to Astrid that from henceforth she must sit there, +in order to accustom herself to the place she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +should take as Queen. For Ingegerd did not +wish that King Olaf should have any occasion to +be ashamed of his Queen.</p> + +<p>'Then the Princess sent her maidens to the +wardrobes and the pantries to fetch the dowry +she had chosen for herself. And she gave everything +to her sister, so that Astrid should not come +to Norway's King as a poor bondwoman. She +had also settled which of the serfs and maidens +should accompany Astrid, and at last she made +her a present of her own splendid galley.</p> + +<p>'"Thou shalt certainly have my galley," she +said. "Thou knowest there are many good men +at the oars. For it is my will that thou shalt come +well dowered to Norway's King, so that he may +feel honoured with his Queen."</p> + +<p>'And afterwards the Princess had sat a long +time with her sister, and spoken with her about +King Olaf. But she had spoken of him as one +speaks of the Saints of God, and not of kings, +and Astrid had not understood many of her +words. But this much she did understand—that +the King's daughter wished to give Astrid all +the good thoughts that dwelt in her own heart, +in order that King Olaf might not be so disappointed +as her father wished. And then Astrid, +who was not so bad as people thought +her, forgot how often she had suffered for her +sister's sake, and she wished that she had been +able to say, "I will not go!" She had also +spoken to her sister about this wish, and they had +cried together, and for the first time felt like +sisters.</p> + +<p>'But it was not Astrid's nature to allow herself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +to be weighed down by sorrow and scruples. By +the time she was out at sea she had forgotten +all her sorrow and fear. She travelled as a +Princess, and was waited upon as a Princess. +For the first time since her mother's death she +was happy.'</p> + +<p>When the King's beautiful daughter had told +Hjalte all this she was silent for a moment, and +looked at him. Hjalte had sat immovable whilst +she was speaking, but the King's daughter grew +pale when she saw the pain his face betrayed.</p> + +<p>'Tell me what thou thinkest, Hjalte,' she exclaimed. +'Now, we are soon at Kungahälla. +How shall I fare there? Will the King slay me? +Will he brand me with red-hot irons, and send +me back again? Tell me the truth, Hjalte.'</p> + +<p>But Hjalte did not answer. He sat and talked +to himself without knowing it. Astrid heard +him murmur that at Kungahälla no one knew +Ingegerd, and that he himself had but little inclination +to turn back.</p> + +<p>But now Hjalte's moody face fell upon Astrid, +and he began to question her. She had wished, +had she not, that she could have said 'No' to +this journey. When she came to Kungahälla, +the choice lay before her. What did she, then, +mean to do! Would she tell King Olaf who she +was?</p> + +<p>This question caused Astrid not a little +embarrassment. She was silent for a long while, +but then she began to beg Hjalte to go with her +to Kungahälla and tell the King the truth. She +told Hjalte that her maidens and the men on +board her ship had been bound to silence.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> + +<p>'And what I shall do myself I do not know,' +she said. 'How can I know that? I have heard +all thou hast told Ingegerd about Olaf Haraldsson.'</p> + +<p>When Astrid said this she saw that Hjalte was +again lost in thought. She heard him mutter to +himself that he did not think she would confess +how things were.</p> + +<p>'But I must all the same tell her what awaits +her,' he said.</p> + +<p>Then Hjalte rose, and spoke to her with the +utmost gravity.</p> + +<p>'Let me tell thee yet another story, Astrid, +about King Olaf, which I have not told thee before:</p> + +<p>'It was at the time when King Olaf was a poor +sea-king, when he only possessed a few good +ships and some faithful warriors, but none of his +forefathers' land. It was at the time when he +fought with honour on distant seas, chastised +vikings and protected merchants, and aided +Christian princes with his sword.</p> + +<p>'The King had a dream that one night an angel +of God descended to his ship, set all the sails, and +steered for the north. And it seemed to the King +that they had not sailed for a longer time than it +takes the dawn to extinguish a star before they +came to a steep and rocky shore, cut up by +narrow fjords and bordered with milk-white +breakers. But when they reached the shore the +angel stretched out his hand, and spoke in his +silvery voice. It rang through the wind, which +whistled in the sails, and through the waves surging +round the keel.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + +<p>'"Thou, King Olaf," were the angel's words, +"shalt possess this land for all time."</p> + +<p>'And when the angel had said this the dream +was over.'</p> + +<p>Hjalte now tried to explain to Astrid that like +as the dawn tempers the transition from dark +night to sunny day, so God had not willed that +King Olaf should at once understand that the +dream foretold him of superhuman honour. The +King had not understood that it was the will of +God that he from a heavenly throne should reign +forever and ever over Norway's land, that kings +should reign and kings should pass away, but +holy King Olaf should continue to rule his kingdom +for ever.</p> + +<p>The King's humility did not let him see the +heavenly message in its fulness of light, and he +understood the words of the angel thus—that he +and his seed should forever rule over the land +the angel had shown him. And inasmuch as he +thought he recognised in this land the kingdom +of his forefathers, he steered his course for Norway, +and, fortune helping him, he soon became +King of that land.</p> + +<p>'And thus it is still, Astrid. Although everything +indicates that in King Olaf dwells a +heavenly strength, he himself is still in doubt, +and thinks that he is only called to be an earthly +King. He does not yet stretch forth his hand +for the crown of the saints. But now the time +cannot be far distant when he must fully realize +his mission. It cannot be far distant.'</p> + +<p>And old Hjalte went on speaking, whilst the +light of the seer shone in his soul and on his +brow.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Is there any other woman but Ingegerd who +would not be rejected by Olaf Haraldsson and +driven from his side when he fully understands +the words of the angel, that he shall be Norway's +King for all time? Is there anyone who can, +then, follow him in his holy walk except Ingegerd?'</p> + +<p>And again Hjalte turned to Astrid and asked +with great severity:</p> + +<p>'Answer me now and tell me whether thou +wilt speak the truth to King Olaf?'</p> + +<p>Astrid was now sore afraid. She answered +humbly:</p> + +<p>'Why wilt thou not go with me to Kungahälla? +Then I shall be compelled to tell +everything. Canst thou not see, Hjalte, that I +do not know myself what I shall do? If it were +my intention to deceive the King, could I not +promise thee all thou wishest? All that I needed +was to persuade thee to go on thy way. But I +am weak; I only asked thee to go with me.'</p> + +<p>But hardly had she said this before she saw +Hjalte's face glow with fierce wrath.</p> + +<p>'Why should I help thee to escape the fate +that awaits thee?' he asked.</p> + +<p>And then he said that he did not think he had +any cause to show her mercy. He hated her for +having sinned against her sister. The man that +she would steal, thief as she was, belonged to +Ingegerd. Even a hardened warrior like Hjalte +must groan with pain when he thought of how +Ingegerd had suffered. But Astrid had felt +nothing. In the midst of all that young maiden's +sorrow she had come with wicked and cruel cun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>ning, +and had only sought her own happiness. +Woe unto Astrid! woe unto her!</p> + +<p>Hjalte had lowered his voice; it became heavy +and dull; it sounded to Astrid as if he were murmuring +an incantation.</p> + +<p>'It is thou,' he said to her, 'who hast destroyed +my most beautiful song.' For the most beautiful +song Hjalte had made was the one in which +he had joined the most pious of all women with +the greatest of all men. 'But thou hast spoiled +my song,' he said, 'and made a mockery of it; +and I will punish thee, thou child of Hél. I will +punish thee; as the Lord punisheth the tempter +who brought sin into His world, I will punish +thee. But do not ask me,' he continued, 'to protect +thee against thine own self. I remember the +Princess, and how she must suffer through the +trick thou playest on King Olaf. For her sake +thou shalt be punished, just as much as for mine. +I will not go with thee to betray thee. That is +my revenge, Astrid. I will not betray thee. Go +thou to Kungahälla, Astrid; and if thou dost not +speak of thine own accord, thou wilt become the +King's bride. But then, thou serpent, punishment +shall overtake thee! I know King Olaf, +and I know thee. Thy life shall be such a burden +that thou wilt wish for death every day that +passes.'</p> + +<p>When Hjalte had said this he turned away +from her and went his way.</p> + +<p>Astrid sat a long time silent, thinking of what +she had heard. But then a smile came over her +face. He forgot, did old Hjalte, that she had +suffered many trials, that she had learnt to laugh<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +at pain. But happiness, happiness, that she had +never tried.</p> + +<p>And Astrid rose and went to the opening of +the tent. She saw the angry Bard's ship. She +thought that far, far away she could see Iceland, +shrouded in mist, welcoming her much-travelled +son with cold and darkness.</p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>A sunny day late in the harvest, not a cloud +in the sky; a day when one thinks the fair sun +will give to the earth all the light she possesses! +The fair sun is like a mother whose son is about +to set out for a far-off land, and who, in the hour +of the leave-taking, cannot take her eyes from +the beloved.</p> + +<p>In the long valley where Kungahälla lies there +is a row of small hills covered with beech-wood. +And now at harvest-time the trees have garbed +themselves in such splendid raiment that one's +heart is gladdened. One would almost think +that the trees were going a-wooing. It looks +as if they had clothed themselves in gold and +scarlet to win a rich bride by their splendour.</p> + +<p>The large island of Hisingen, on the other +side of the river, had also adorned itself. But +Hisingen is covered with golden-white birch-trees. +At Hisingen the trees are clad in light +colours, as if they are little maidens in bridal attire.</p> + +<p>But up the river, which comes rushing down +towards the ocean as proudly and wildly as if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +the harvest rain had filled it with frothy wine, +there passes the one ship after the other, rowing +homewards. And when the ships approach +Kungahälla they hoist new white sails, instead +of the old ones of gray wadmal; and one cannot +help thinking of old fairy-tales of kings' sons +who go out seeking adventures clothed in rags, +but who throw them off when they again enter +the King's lofty hall.</p> + +<p>But all the people of Kungahälla have assembled +at the landing-stages. Old and young +are busy unloading goods from the ships. They +fill the storehouses with salt and train-oil, with +costly weapons, and many-coloured rugs. They +haul large and small vessels on to land, they +question the returned seamen about their voyage. +But suddenly all work ceases, and every +eye is turned towards the river.</p> + +<p>Right between the big merchant vessels a +large galley is making its way, and people ask +each other in astonishment who it can be that +carries sails striped with purple and a golden +device on the prow; they wonder what kind of +ship it can be that comes flying over the waves +like a bird. They praise the oarsmen, who +handle the oars so evenly that they flash along +the sides of the ship like an eagle's wings.</p> + +<p>'It must be the Swedish Princess who is coming,' +they say. 'It must be the beautiful Princess +Ingegerd, for whom Olaf Haraldsson has been +waiting the whole summer and harvest.'</p> + +<p>And the women hasten down to the riverside +to see the Princess when she rows past them on +her way to the King's Landing-Stage. Men and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +boys run to the ships, or climb the roofs of the +boathouses.</p> + +<p>When the women see the Princess standing +in gorgeous apparel, they begin to shout to her, +and to greet her with words of welcome; and +every man who sees her radiant face tears his +cap from his head and swings it high in the air. +But on the King's Landing-Stage stands King +Olaf himself, and when he sees the Princess his +face beams with gladness, and his eyes light up +with tender love.</p> + +<p>And as it is now so late in the year that all +the flowers are faded, the young maidens pluck +the golden-red autumnal leaves from the trees +and strew them on the bridge and in the street; +and they hasten to deck their houses with the +bright berries of the mountain-ash and the dark-red +leaves of the poplar.</p> + +<p>The Princess, who stands high on the ship, +sees the people waving and greeting her in welcome. +She sees the golden-red leaves over which +she shall walk, and foremost on the landing-stage +she sees the King awaiting her with smiles. And +the Princess forgets everything she would have +said and confessed. She forgets that she is not +Ingegerd, she forgets everything except the one +thing, that she is to be the wife of Olaf Haraldsson.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>One Sunday Olaf Haraldsson was seated at +table, and his beautiful Queen sat by his side. +He was talking eagerly with her, resting his +elbow on the table, and turning towards her, so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +that he could see her face. But when Astrid +spoke the King lowered his eyes in order not to +think of anything but her lovely voice, and when +she had been speaking for a long time he began +to cut the table with his knife without thinking +of what he was doing. All King Olaf's men +knew that he would not have done this if he had +remembered that it was Sunday; but they had +far too great a respect for King Olaf to venture +to remind him that he was committing a sin.</p> + +<p>The longer Astrid talked, the more uneasy became +his henchmen. The Queen saw that they +exchanged troubled glances with each other, but +she did not understand what was the matter.</p> + +<p>All had finished eating, and the food had been +removed, but King Olaf still sat and talked with +Astrid and cut the top of the table. A whole +little heap of chips lay in front of him. Then at +last his friend Björn, the son of Ogur from +Selö, spoke.</p> + +<p>'What day is it to-morrow, Eilif?' he asked, +turning to one of the torch-bearers.</p> + +<p>'To-morrow is Monday,' answered Eilif in a +loud and clear voice.</p> + +<p>Then the King lifted his head and looked up +at Eilif.</p> + +<p>'Dost thou say that to-morrow is Monday?' +he asked thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>Without saying another word, the King gathered +up all the chips he had cut off the table into +his hand, went to the fireplace, seized a burning +coal, and laid it on the chips, which soon caught +fire. The King stood quite still and let them +burn to ashes in his hand. Then all the hench<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>men +rejoiced, but the young Queen grew pale as +death.</p> + +<p>'What sentence will he pronounce over me +when he one day finds out my sin,' she thought, +'he who punishes himself so hardly for so slight +an offence?'</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Agge from Gardarike lay sick on board his +galley in Kungahälla harbour. He was lying in +the narrow hold awaiting death. He had been +suffering for a long time from pains in his foot, +and now there was an open sore, and in the +course of the last few hours it had begun to turn +black.</p> + +<p>'Thou needest not die, Agge,' said Lodulf +from Kunghälla, who had come on board to see +his sick friend. 'Dost thou not know that King +Olaf is here in the town, and that God, on account +of his piety and holiness, has given him +power to heal the sick? Send a message to him +and ask him to come and lay his hand upon thee, +and thou wilt recover.'</p> + +<p>'No, I cannot ask help from him,' answered +Agge. 'Olaf Haraldsson hates me because I +have slain his foster-brother, Reor the White. +If he knew that my ship lay in the harbour, he +would send his men to kill me.'</p> + +<p>But when Lodulf had left Agge and gone into +the town, he met the young Queen, who had +been in the forest gathering nuts.</p> + +<p>'Queen,' Lodulf cried to her, 'say this to +King Olaf: "Agge from Gardarike, who has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +slain thy foster-brother, lies at the point of death +on his ship in the harbour."'</p> + +<p>The young Queen hastened home and went +immediately up to King Olaf, who stood in the +courtyard smoothing the mane of his horse.</p> + +<p>'Rejoice, King Olaf!' she said. 'Agge from +Gardarike, who slew thy foster-brother, lies sick +on his ship in the harbour and is near death.'</p> + +<p>Olaf Haraldsson at once led his horse into the +stable; then he went out without sword or +helmet. He went quickly down one of the narrow +lanes between the houses until he reached +the harbour. There he found the ship which +belonged to Agge. The King was at the side +of the sick man before Agge's men thought of +stopping him.</p> + +<p>'Agge,' said King Olaf, 'many a time I have +pursued thee on the sea, and thou hast always +escaped me. Now thou hast been struck down +with sickness here in my city. This is a sign to +me that God hath given thy life into my hands.'</p> + +<p>Agge made no answer. He was utterly feeble, +and death was very near. Olaf Haraldsson laid +his hands upon his breast and prayed to God.</p> + +<p>'Give me the life of this mine enemy,' he said.</p> + +<p>But the Queen, who had seen the King hasten +down to the harbour without helmet and sword, +went into the hall, fetched his weapons and called +for some of his men. Then she hurried after +him down to the ship. But when she stood outside +the narrow hold, she heard King Olaf praying +for the sick man.</p> + +<p>Astrid looked in and saw the King and Agge +without betraying her presence. She saw that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +whilst the King's hands rested upon the forehead +and breast of the dying man, the deathly pallor +vanished from his face; he began to breathe +lightly and quietly; he ceased moaning, and at +last he fell into a sound sleep.</p> + +<p>Astrid went softly back to the King's Castle. +She dragged the King's sword after her along +the road. Her face was paler than the dying +man's had been. Her breathing was heavy, like +that of a dying person.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>It was the morning of All Saints' Day, and +King Olaf was ready to go to Mass. He came +out of the King's Hall and went across the courtyard +towards the gateway. Several of the King's +henchmen stood in the courtyard to accompany +him to Mass. When the King came towards +them, they drew up in two rows, and the King +passed between them.</p> + +<p>Astrid stood in the narrow corridor outside +the Women's Room and looked down at the +King. He wore a broad golden band round his +head, and was attired in a long mantle of red +velvet. He went very quietly, and there was a +holy peace over his face. Astrid was terrified +to see how much he resembled the Saints and +Kings that were carved in wood over the altar +in the Marie Church.</p> + +<p>At the gateway stood a man in a broad-brimmed +hat, and wearing a big mantle. When +the King approached him he threw off his +mantle, lifted a drawn sword, which he had hidden +under it, and rushed at the King. But when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +he was quite close to him, the mild and gentle +glance of the King fell upon him, and he suddenly +stopped. He let his sword fall to the +ground, and fell on his knees.</p> + +<p>King Olaf stood still, and looked at the man +with the same clear glance; the man tried to +turn his eyes away from him, but he could not. +At last he burst into tears and sobs.</p> + +<p>'Oh, King Olaf! King Olaf!' he moaned. +'Thine enemies sent me hither to slay thee; but +when I saw thy saintly face my sword fell from +my hand. Thine eyes, King Olaf, have felled +me to the ground.'</p> + +<p>Astrid sank upon her knees where she stood.</p> + +<p>'Oh God, have mercy upon me, a sinner!' she +said. 'Woe unto me, because by lying and deceit +I have become the wife of this man.'</p> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p>On the evening of All Saints' Day the moon +shone bright and clear. The King had gone the +round of the castle, had looked into stables +and barns to see that all was well; he had even +been to the house where the serfs dwelt to ascertain +if they were well looked after. When he +went back to the King's Hall, he saw a woman +with a black kerchief over her head stealing +towards the gateway. He thought he knew her, +and therefore followed her. She went out of +the gateway, over the Market Place, and stole +down the narrow lanes to the river.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + +<p>Olaf Haraldsson went after her as quietly as +he could. He saw her go on to one of the +landing-stages, stand still, and look down into +the water. She stretched out her arms towards +heaven, and, with a deep sigh, she went so near +the edge that the King saw she meant to spring +into the river.</p> + +<p>The King approached her with the noiseless +steps which a life full of danger had taught him. +Twice the woman lifted her foot to make the +spring, but she hesitated. Before she could make +a new attempt, King Olaf had his arm round +her waist and drew her back.</p> + +<p>'Thou unhappy one!' he said. 'Thou wouldest +do that which God hath prohibited.'</p> + +<p>When the woman heard his voice she held her +hands before her face as if to hide it. But King +Olaf knew who she was. The rustle of her dress, +the shape of her head, the golden rings on her +arms had already told him that it was the Queen. +The first moment Astrid had struggled to free +herself, but she soon grew quiet, and tried to +make the King believe that she had not intended +to kill herself.</p> + +<p>'King Olaf, why dost thou secretly come behind +a poor woman who hath gone down to the +river to see how she is mirrored in the water? +What must I think of thee?'</p> + +<p>Astrid's voice sounded composed and playful. +The King stood silent.</p> + +<p>'Thou hast frightened me so that I nearly fell +into the river,' Astrid said. 'Didst thou think, +perhaps, that I would drown myself?'</p> + +<p>The King answered:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> + +<p>'I know not what to believe; God will enlighten +me.'</p> + +<p>Astrid laughed and kissed him.</p> + +<p>'What woman would take her life who is as +happy as I am? Doth one take one's life in +Paradise?'</p> + +<p>'I do not understand it,' said King Olaf, in +his gentle manner. 'God will enlighten me. He +will tell me if it be through any fault of mine that +thou wouldest commit so great a sin.'</p> + +<p>Astrid went up to him and stroked his cheek. +The reverence she felt for King Olaf had hitherto +deterred her from showing him the full tenderness +of her love. Now she threw her arms passionately +around him and kissed him countless +times. Then she began to speak to him in gentle, +bird-like tones.</p> + +<p>'Wouldest thou know how truly my heart +clings to thee?' she said.</p> + +<p>She made the King sit down on an overturned +boat. She knelt down at his feet.</p> + +<p>'King Olaf,' she said, 'I will no longer be +Queen. She who loves as greatly as I love thee +cannot be a Queen. I wish thou wouldest go far +into the forest, and let me be thy bondwoman. +Then I should have leave to serve thee every +day. Then I would prepare thy food, make thy +bed, and watch over thy house whilst thou slept. +None other should have leave to serve thee, except +I. When thou returnest from the chase +in the evening, I would go to meet thee, and +kneel before thee on the road and say: "King +Olaf, my life is thine." And thou wouldest laugh, +and lower thy spear against my breast, and say:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +"Yes, thy life is mine. Thou hast neither father +nor mother; thou art mine, and thy life is mine."'</p> + +<p>As Astrid said this, she drew, as if in play, +King Olaf's sword out of its sheath. She laid +the hilt in the King's hand, but the point she +directed towards her own heart.</p> + +<p>'Say these words to me, King Olaf,' she said, +'as if we were alone in the forest, and I were thy +bondwoman. Say: "Thy life is mine."'</p> + +<p>'Thy life is God's,' said the King.</p> + +<p>Astrid laughed lightly.</p> + +<p>'My life is thine,' she repeated, in the tenderest +voice, and the same moment King Olaf felt +that she pressed the point of the sword against +her breast.</p> + +<p>But the King held the sword with a firm hand, +even when in play. He drew it to him before +Astrid had time to do herself any harm. And he +sprang up. For the first time in his life he +trembled from fear. The Queen would die at his +hand, and she had not been far from attaining +her wish. At the same moment he had an inspiration, +and he understood what was the cause +of her despair.</p> + +<p>'She has committed a sin,' he thought. 'She +has a sin upon her conscience.'</p> + +<p>He bent down over Astrid.</p> + +<p>'Tell me in what manner thou hast sinned,' +he said.</p> + +<p>Astrid had thrown herself down on the rough +planks of the bridge, crying in utter despair.</p> + +<p>'No one free from guilt would weep like this,' +thought the King. 'But how can the honourable +daughter of the King have brought such a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +heavy burden upon her?' he asked himself. +'How can the noble Ingegerd have a crime upon +her conscience?'</p> + +<p>'Ingegerd, tell me how thou hast sinned,' he +asked again.</p> + +<p>But Astrid was sobbing so violently that she +could not answer, but instead she drew off her +golden arm and finger rings, and handed them +to the King with averted face. The King +thought how unlike this was to the gentle King's +daughter of whom Hjalte had spoken.</p> + +<p>'Is this Hjalte's Ingegerd that lies sobbing at +my feet?' he thought.</p> + +<p>He bent down and seized Astrid by the +shoulder.</p> + +<p>'Who are thou? who art thou?' he said, shaking +her arm. 'I see that thou canst not be Ingegerd. +Who art thou?'</p> + +<p>Astrid was still sobbing so violently that she +could not speak. But in order to give the King +the answer he asked for, she let down her long +hair, twisted a lock of it round her arms, and held +them towards the King, and sat thus bowed and +with drooping head. The King thought:</p> + +<p>'She wishes me to understand that she belongs +to those who wear chains. She confesses that +she is a bondwoman.'</p> + +<p>A thought again struck the King; he now +understood everything.</p> + +<p>'Has not the Svea-King a daughter who is +the child of a bondwoman?' he asked suddenly.</p> + +<p>He received no answer to this question either, +but he heard Astrid shudder as if from cold. +King Olaf asked still one more question.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Thou whom I have made my wife,' he said, +'hast thou so low a mind that thou wouldest +allow thyself to be used as a means of spoiling +a man's honour? Is thy mind so mean that thou +rejoicest when his enemies laugh at his discomfiture?'</p> + +<p>Astrid could hear from the King's voice how +bitterly he suffered under the insult that had +been offered him. She forgot her own sufferings, +and wept no more.</p> + +<p>'Take my life,' she said.</p> + +<p>A great temptation came upon King Olaf.</p> + +<p>'Slay this wicked bondwoman,' the old Adam +said within him. 'Show the Svea-King what it +costs to make a fool of the King of Norway.'</p> + +<p>At that moment Olaf Haraldsson felt no love +for Astrid. He hated her for having been the +means of his humiliation. He knew everybody +would think it right when he returned evil for +evil, and if he did not avenge this insult, he +would be held in derision by the Bards, and his +enemies would no longer fear him. He had but +one wish: to slay Astrid, to take her life. His +anger was so violent that it craved for blood. +If a fool had dared to put his fool's cap upon +his head, would he not have torn it off, torn it +to pieces, thrown it on the ground, trampled +upon it? If he now laid Astrid a bloody corpse +upon her ship, and sent her back to her father, +people would say of King Olaf that he was a +worthy descendant of Harald Haarfager.</p> + +<p>But King Olaf still held his sword in his +hand, and under his fingers he felt the hilt, upon +which he had once had inscribed: 'Blessed are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +the peacemakers,' 'Blessed are the meek,' +'Blessed are the merciful.' And every time he, +in this hour of anguish, grasped his sword firmly +in order to slay Astrid, he felt these words under +his hand. He thought he could feel every letter. +He remembered the day when he had first heard +these words.</p> + +<p>'This I will write in letters of gold on the hilt +of my sword,' he had said, 'so that the words +may burn in my hand every time I would swing +my sword in fury, or for an unjust cause.'</p> + +<p>He felt that the hilt of the sword now burnt in +his hand. King Olaf said aloud to himself:</p> + +<p>'Formerly thou wert the slave of many lusts; +now thou hast but one master, and that is God.'</p> + +<p>With these words he put back the sword into +its sheath, and began to walk to and fro on the +bridge. Astrid remained lying in the same position. +King Olaf saw that she crouched in fear +of death every time he went past her.</p> + +<p>'I will not slay thee,' he said; but his voice +sounded hard from hatred.</p> + +<p>King Olaf continued for awhile to walk backwards +and forwards on the bridge; then he went +up to Astrid, and asked her in the same hard +voice what her real name was, and that she was +able to answer him. He looked at this woman +whom he had so highly treasured, and who now +lay at his feet like a wounded deer—he looked +down upon her as a dead man's soul looks with +pity at the poor body which was once its dwelling.</p> + +<p>'Oh, thou my soul,' said King Olaf, 'it was +there thou dwelt in love, and now thou art as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +homeless as a beggar.' He drew nearer to +Astrid, and spoke as if she were no longer living +or could hear what he said. 'It was told me +that there was a King's daughter whose heart +was so pure and holy that she endued with peace +all who came near her. They told me of her +gentleness, that he who saw her felt as safe as a +helpless child does with its mother, and when +the beautiful woman who now lies here came +to me, I thought that she was Ingegerd, and she +became exceeding dear to me. She was so +beautiful and glad, and she made my own heavy +thoughts light. And did she sometimes act +otherwise than I expected the proud Ingegerd +to do, she was too dear to me to doubt her; she +stole into my heart with her joyousness and +beauty.'</p> + +<p>He was silent for a time, and thought how +dear Astrid had been to him and how happiness +had with her come to his house.</p> + +<p>'I could forgive her,' he said aloud. 'I could +again make her my Queen, I could in love take +her in my arms; but I <em>dare</em> not, for my soul +would still be homeless. Ah, thou fair woman,' +he said, 'why dost lying dwell within thee? With +thee there is no security, no rest.'</p> + +<p>The King went on bemoaning himself, but +now Astrid stood up.</p> + +<p>'King Olaf, do not speak thus to me,' she +said; 'I will rather die. Understand, I am in +earnest.'</p> + +<p>Then she tried to say a few words to excuse +herself. She told him that she had gone to +Kungahälla not with the intention of deceiving<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +him, but in order to be a Princess for a few +weeks, to be waited upon like a Queen, to sail +on the sea. But she had intended to confess who +she was as soon as she came to Kungahälla. +There she expected to find Hjalte and the other +great men who knew Ingegerd. She had never +thought of deceiving him when she came, but +an evil spirit had sent all those away who knew +Ingegerd, and then the temptation had come +to her.</p> + +<p>'When I saw thee, King Olaf,' she said, 'I +forgot everything to become thine, and I thought +I would gladly suffer death at thine hand had I +but for one day been thy wife.'</p> + +<p>King Olaf answered her:</p> + +<p>'I see that what was deadly earnest to me was +but a pastime to thee. Never hast thou thought +upon what it was to come and say to a man: "I +am she whom thou most fervently desirest; I am +that high-born maiden whom it is the greatest +honour to win." And then thou art not that +woman; thou art but a lying bondwoman.'</p> + +<p>'I have loved thee from the first moment I +heard thy name,' Astrid said softly.</p> + +<p>The King clenched his hand in anger against +her.</p> + +<p>'Know, Astrid, that I have longed for Ingegerd +as no man has ever longed for woman. I +would have clung to her as the soul of the dead +clings to the angel bearing him upwards. I +thought she was so pure that she could have +helped me to lead a sinless life.'</p> + +<p>And he broke out into wild longings, and said +that he longed for the power of the holy ones of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +God, but that he was too weak and sinful to attain +to perfection.</p> + +<p>'But the King's daughter could have helped +me,' he said; 'she the saintly and gentle one +would have helped me. Oh, my God,' he said, +'whichever way I turn I see sinners, wherever +I go I meet those who would entice me to sin. +Why didst Thou not send me the King's daughter, +who had not a single evil thought in her heart? +Her gentle eye would have found the right path +for my foot. Whenever I strayed from it her +gentle hand would have led me back.'</p> + +<p>A feeling of utter helplessness and the weariness +of despair fell upon Olaf Haraldsson.</p> + +<p>'It was this upon which I had set my hopes,' +he said—'to have a good woman at my side, not +to wander alone amongst wickedness and sin forever. +Now I feel that I must succumb; I am +unable to fight any longer. Have I not asked +God,' he exclaimed, 'what place I shall have +before His face? To what hast Thou chosen me, +Thou Lord of souls? Is it appointed unto me +to become the equal of apostles and martyrs? +But now, Astrid, I need ask no longer; God hath +not been willing to give me that woman who +should have assisted me in my wandering. Now +I know that I shall never win the crown of the +Saints.'</p> + +<p>The King was silent in inconsolable despair; +then Astrid drew nearer to him.</p> + +<p>'King Olaf,' she said, 'what thou now sayest +both Hjalte and Ingegerd have told me long ago, +but I would not believe that thou wert more than +a good and brave knight and noble King. It is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +only now that I have lived under thy roof that +my soul has begun to fear thee. I have felt that +it was worse than death to appear before thee +with a lie upon my lips. Never have I been so +terrified,' Astrid continued, 'as when I understood +that thou wast a Saint. When I saw thee +burn the chips in thine hand, when I saw sickness +flee at thy bidding, and the sword fall out of +thine enemy's hand when he met thee, I was +terrified unto death when I saw that thou wast a +Saint, and I resolved to die before thou knewest +that I had deceived thee.'</p> + +<p>King Olaf did not answer. Astrid looked up +at him; she saw that his eyes were turned +towards heaven. She did not know if he had +heard her.</p> + +<p>'Ah,' she said, 'this moment have I feared +every day and every hour since I came hither. +I would have died rather than live through it.'</p> + +<p>Olaf Haraldsson was still silent.</p> + +<p>'King Olaf,' she said, 'I would gladly give my +life for thee; I would gladly throw myself into +the gray river so that thou shouldst not live with +a lying woman at thy side. The more I saw of +thy holiness the better I understood that I must +go from thee. A Saint of God cannot have a +lying bondwoman at his side.'</p> + +<p>The King was still silent, but now Astrid raised +her eyes to his face; then she cried out, terror-stricken:</p> + +<p>'King Olaf, thy face shines.'</p> + +<p>Whilst Astrid spoke, God had shown King +Olaf a vision. He saw all the stars of heaven +leave their appointed places, and fly like swarm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>ing +bees about the universe. But suddenly they +all gathered above his head and formed a radiant +crown.</p> + +<p>'Astrid,' said he, with trembling voice, 'God +hath spoken to me. It is true what thou sayest. +I shall become a Saint of God.'</p> + +<p>His voice trembled from emotion, and his face +shone in the night. But when Astrid saw the +light that surrounded his head, she arose. For +her the last hope had faded.</p> + +<p>'Now I will go,' she said. 'Now thou knowest +whom thou art. Thou canst never more bear +me at thy side. But think gently of me. Without +joy or happiness have I lived all my life. In +rags have I gone; blows have I endured. Forgive +me when I am gone. My love has done thee +no harm.'</p> + +<p>When Astrid in silent despair crossed over the +bridge, Olaf Haraldsson awoke from his ecstasy. +He hastened after her.</p> + +<p>'Why wilt thou go?' he said. 'Why wilt +thou go?'</p> + +<p>'<em>Must</em> I not go from thee when thou art a +Saint?' she whispered scarcely audibly.</p> + +<p>'Thou shalt not go. Now thou canst remain,' +said King Olaf. 'Before, I was a lowly man and +must fear all sin; a poor earthly King was I, +too poor to bestow on thee my grace; but now +all the glory of Heaven has been given to me. Art +thou weak? I am the Lord's knight. Dost thou +fall? I can lift thee up. God hath chosen me, +Astrid. Thou canst not harm me, but I can help +thee. Ah! what am I saying? In this hour God +hath so wholly and fully shed the riches of His<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +love in my heart that I cannot even see thou hast +done wrong.'</p> + +<p>Gently and tenderly he lifted up the trembling +form, and whilst lovingly supporting her, who +was still sobbing and who could hardly stand +upright, he and Astrid went back to the King's +Castle.</p> +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> +<div class="story_title_page"> +<h2 title="Old Agnete">III. <a name="Old_Agnete" id="Old_Agnete"><span class="dec_italic">Old</span> <span class="smcap">Agnete</span></a></h2> +<p><span class="dec_italic">From a Swedish</span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">Homestead</span></p> +<p class="story_no">III</p> +<p><span class="dec_italic">Old</span> <span class="smcap">Agnete</span></p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<p class="story_head"><span class="dec_italic">Old</span> <span class="smcap">Agnete</span></p> + +<p>An old woman went up the mountain-path +with short, tripping steps. She was little +and thin. Her face was pale and wizened, +but neither hard nor furrowed. She wore a long +cloak and a quilled cap. She had a Prayer-Book +in her hand and a sprig of lavender in her handkerchief.</p> + +<p>She lived in a hut far up the high mountain +where no trees could grow. It was lying quite +close to the edge of a broad glacier, which sent +its river of ice from the snow-clad mountain peak +into the depths of the valley. There she lived +quite alone. All those who had belonged to her +were dead.</p> + +<p>It was Sunday, and she had been to church. +But whatever might be the cause, her going there +had not made her happy, but sorrowful. The +clergyman had spoken about death and the +doomed, and that had affected her. She had suddenly +begun to think of how she had heard in +her childhood that many of the doomed were +tormented in the region of eternal cold on the +mountain right above her dwelling. She could +remember many tales about these wanderers of +the glaciers—these indefatigable shadows which +were hunted from place to place by the icy +mountain winds.</p> + +<p>All at once she felt a great terror of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +mountain, and thought that her hut was dreadfully +high up. Supposing those who moved +about invisibly there wandered down the glaciers! +And she who was quite alone! The word +'alone' gave to her thoughts a still sadder turn. +She again felt the full burden of that sorrow +which never left her. She thought how hard it +was to be so far away from human beings.</p> + +<p>'Old Agnete,' she said aloud to herself, as she +had got into the habit of doing in the lonely +waste, 'you sit in your hut and spin, and spin. +You work and toil all the hours of the day so +as not to perish from hunger. But is there anyone +to whom you give any pleasure by being +alive? Is there anyone, old Agnete? If any of +your own were living——Yes, then, perhaps, +if you lived nearer the village, you might be of +some use to somebody. Poor as you are, you +could neither take dog nor cat home to you, +but you could probably now and then give a +beggar shelter. You ought not to live so far +away from the highroad, old Agnete. If you +could only once in a while give a thirsty wayfarer +a drink, then you would know that it was of +some use your being alive.'</p> + +<p>She sighed, and said to herself that not even +the peasant women who gave her flax to spin +would mourn her death. She had certainly +striven to do her work honestly and well, but no +doubt there were many who could have done it +better. She began to cry bitterly, when the +thought struck her that his reverence, who had +seen her sitting in the same place in church for so +many, many years, would perhaps think it a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +matter of perfect indifference whether she was +dead or not.</p> + +<p>'It is as if I were dead,' she said. 'No one +asks after me. I would just as well lie down +and die. I am already frozen to death from cold +and loneliness. I am frozen to the core of the +heart, I am indeed. Ah me! ah me!' she said, +now she had been set a-thinking; 'if there were +only someone who really needed me, there might +still be a little warmth left in old Agnete. But +I cannot knit stockings for the mountain goats, +or make the beds for the marmots, can I? I +tell Thee,' she said, stretching our her hands +towards heaven, 'something Thou must give me +to do, or I shall lay me down and die.'</p> + +<p>At the same moment a tall, stern monk came +towards her. He walked by her side because he +saw that she was sorrowful, and she told him +about her troubles. She said that her heart was +nearly frozen to death, and that she would become +like one of the wanderers on the glacier +if God did not give her something to live for.</p> + +<p>'God will assuredly do that,' said the monk.</p> + +<p>'Do you not see that God is powerless here?' +old Agnete said. 'Here there is nothing but +an empty, barren waste.'</p> + +<p>They went higher and higher towards the snow +mountains. The moss spread itself softly over +the stones; the Alpine herbs, with their velvety +leaves, grew along the pathway; the mountain, +with its rifts and precipices, its glaciers and snow-drifts, +towered above them, weighing them down. +Then the monk discovered old Agnete's hut, +right below the glacier.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Oh,' he said, 'is it there you live? Then you +are not alone there; you have company enough. +Only look!'</p> + +<p>The monk put his thumb and first finger together, +held them before old Agnete's left eye, +and bade her look through them towards the +mountain. But old Agnete shuddered and closed +her eyes.</p> + +<p>'If there is anything to see up there, then I +will not look on any account,' she said. 'The +Lord preserve us! it is bad enough without that.'</p> + +<p>'Good-bye, then,' said the monk; 'it is not +certain that you will be permitted to see such a +thing a second time.'</p> + +<p>Old Agnete grew curious; she opened her +eyes and looked towards the glacier. At first +she saw nothing remarkable, but soon she began +to discern things moving about. What she had +taken to be mist and vapour, or bluish-white +shadows on the ice, were multitudes of doomed +souls, tormented in the eternal cold.</p> + +<p>Poor old Agnete trembled like an aspen leaf. +Everything was just as she had heard it described +in days gone by. The dead wandered about there +in endless anguish and pain. Most of them were +shrouded in something long and white, but all +had their faces and their hands bared.</p> + +<p>They could not be counted, there was such a +multitude. The longer she looked, the more +there appeared. Some walked proud and erect, +others seemed to dance over the glacier; but she +saw that they all cut their feet on the sharp and +jagged edges of the ice.</p> + +<p>It was just as she had been told. She saw how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> +they constantly huddled close together, as if to +warm themselves, but immediately drew back +again, terrified by the deathly cold which emanated +from their bodies.</p> + +<p>It was as if the cold of the mountain came +from them, as if it were they who prevented the +snow from melting and made the mist so piercingly +cold.</p> + +<p>They were not all moving; some stood in icy +stoniness, and it looked as if they had been standing +thus for years, for ice and snow had gathered +around them so that only the upper portion of +their bodies could be seen.</p> + +<p>The longer the little old woman gazed the +quieter she grew. Fear left her, and she was only +filled with sorrow for all these tormented beings. +There was no abatement in their pain, no rest for +their torn feet, hurrying over ice sharp as edged +steel. And how cold they were! how they shivered! +how their teeth chattered from cold! +Those who were petrified and those who could +move, all suffered alike from the snarling, biting, +unbearable cold.</p> + +<p>There were many young men and women; but +there was no youth in their faces, blue with cold. +It looked as if they were playing, but all joy was +dead. They shivered, and were huddled up like +old people.</p> + +<p>But those who made the deepest impression on +her were those frozen fast in the hard glacier, +and those who were hanging from the mountain-side +like great icicles.</p> + +<p>Then the monk removed his hand, and old +Agnete saw only the barren, empty glaciers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +Here and there were ice-mounds, but they did +not surround any petrified ghosts. The blue +light on the glacier did not proceed from frozen +bodies; the wind chased the snowflakes before +it, but not any ghosts.</p> + +<p>Still old Agnete was certain that she had really +seen all this, and she asked the monk:</p> + +<p>'Is it permitted to do anything for these poor +doomed ones?'</p> + +<p>He answered:</p> + +<p>'When has God forbidden Love to do good +or Mercy to solace?'</p> + +<p>Then the monk went his way, and old Agnete +went to her hut and thought it all over. The +whole evening she pondered how she could help +the doomed who were wandering on the glaciers. +For the first time in many years she had been +too busy to think of her loneliness.</p> + +<p>Next morning she again went down to the +village. She smiled, and was well content. Old +age was no longer so heavy a burden. 'The +dead,' she said to herself, 'do not care so much +about red cheeks and light steps. They only +want one to think of them with a little warmth. +But young people do not trouble to do that. Oh +no, oh no. How should the dead protect themselves +from the terrible coldness of death did not +old people open their hearts to them?</p> + +<p>When she came to the village shop she bought +a large package of candles, and from a peasant +she ordered a great load of firewood; but in +order to pay for it she had to take in twice as +much spinning as usual.</p> + +<p>Towards evening, when she got home again,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +she said many prayers, and tried to keep up her +courage by singing hymns. But her courage +sank more and more. All the same, she did what +she had made up her mind to do.</p> + +<p>She moved her bed into the inner room of her +hut. In the front room she made a big fire and +lighted it. In the window she placed two candles, +and left the outer door wide open. Then +she went to bed.</p> + +<p>She lay in the darkness and listened.</p> + +<p>Yes, there certainly was a step. It was as if +someone had come gliding down the glacier. It +came heavily, moaning. It crept round the hut +as if it dared not come in. Close to the wall it +stood and shivered.</p> + +<p>Old Agnete could not bear it any longer. She +sprang out of bed, went into the outer room and +closed the door. It was too much; flesh and +blood could not stand it.</p> + +<p>Outside the hut she heard deep sighs and dragging +steps, as of sore, wounded feet. They +dragged themselves away further and further up +the icy glacier. Now and again she also heard +sobs; but soon everything was quiet.</p> + +<p>Then old Agnete was beside herself with anxiety. +'You are a coward, you silly old thing,' +she said. 'Both the fire and the lights, which +cost so much, are burning out. Shall it all have +been done in vain because you are such a miserable +coward?' And when she had said this +she got out of bed again, crying from fear, with +chattering teeth, and shivering all over; but into +the other room she went, and the door she +opened.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> + +<p>Again she lay and waited. Now she was no +longer frightened that they should come. She +was only afraid lest she had scared them away, +and that they dared not come back.</p> + +<p>And as she lay there in the darkness she began +to call just as she used to do in her young days +when she was tending the sheep.</p> + +<p>'My little white lambs, my lambs in the +mountains, come, come! Come down from rift +and precipice, my little white lambs!'</p> + +<p>Then it seemed as if a cold wind from the +mountain came rushing into the room. She +heard neither step nor sob, only gusts of wind +that came rushing along the walls of the hut into +the room. And it sounded as if someone were +continually saying:</p> + +<p>'Hush, hush! Don't frighten her! don't +frighten her! don't frighten her!'</p> + +<p>She had a feeling as if the outside room was +so overcrowded that they were being crushed +against the walls, and that the walls were giving +way. Sometimes it seemed as if they would lift +the roof in order to gain more room. But the +whole time there were whispers:</p> + +<p>'Hush, hush! Don't frighten her! don't +frighten her!'</p> + +<p>Then old Agnete felt happy and peaceful. She +folded her hands and fell asleep. In the morning +it seemed as if the whole had been a dream. +Everything looked as usual in the outer room; +the fire had burnt out, and so had the candles. +There was not a vestige of tallow left in the +candlesticks.</p> + +<p>As long as old Agnete lived she continued to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +do this. She spun and worked so that she could +keep her fire burning every night. And she was +happy because someone needed her.</p> + +<p>Then one Sunday she was not in her usual seat +in the church. Two peasants went up to her hut +to see if there was anything the matter. She was +already dead, and they carried her body down +to the village to bury it.</p> + +<p>When, the following Sunday, her funeral took +place, just before Mass, there were but few who +followed, neither did one see grief on any face. +But suddenly, just as the coffin was being lowered +into the grave, a tall, stern monk came into +the churchyard, and he stood still and pointed +to the snow-clad mountains. Then they saw the +whole mountain-ridge shining in a red light as +if lighted with joy, and round it wound a procession +of small yellow flames, looking like +burning candles. And these flames numbered +as many as the candles which old Agnete had +burned for the doomed. Then people said: +'Praise the Lord! She whom no one mourns +here below has all the same found friends in the +solitude <span class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: Punctuation added">above.</span>'</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> + +<div class="story_title_page"> +<h2 title="The Fisherman's Ring">IV. <a name="The_Fishermans_Ring" id="The_Fishermans_Ring"><span class="dec_italic">The Fisherman's</span> <span class="smcap">Ring</span></a></h2> +<p><span class="dec_italic">From a Swedish</span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">Homestead</span></p> +<p class="story_no">IV</p> +<p><span class="dec_italic">The Fisherman's</span> <span class="smcap">Ring</span></p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> + +<p class="story_head"><span class="dec_italic">The Fisherman's</span> <span class="smcap">Ring</span></p> + +<p>During the reign of the Doge Gradenigos +there lived in Venice an old fisherman, +Cecco by name. He had been an +unusually strong man, and was still very strong +for his age, but lately he had given up work and +left it to his two sons to provide for him. He was +very proud of his sons, and he loved them—ah, +signor, how he loved them!</p> + +<p>Fate had so ordered it that their bringing up +had been almost entirely left to him. Their +mother had died early, and so Cecco had to take +care of them. He had looked after their clothes +and cooked their food; he had sat in the boat +with needle and cotton and mended and darned. +He had not cared in the least that people had +laughed at him on that account. He had also, +quite alone, taught them all it was necessary for +them to know. He had made a couple of able +fishermen of them, and taught them to honour +God and San Marco.</p> + +<p>'Always remember,' he said to them, 'that +Venice will never be able to stand in her own +strength. Look at her! Has she not been built +on the waves? Look at the low islands close to +land, where the sea plays amongst the seaweed. +You would not venture to tread upon them, and +yet it is upon such foundation that the whole +city rests. And do you not know that the north +wind has strength enough to throw both<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +churches and palaces into the sea? Do you not +know that we have such powerful enemies, that +all the princes in Christendom cannot vanquish +them? Therefore you must always pray to San +Marco, for in his strong hands rests the chains +which hold Venice suspended over the depths of +the sea.'</p> + +<p>And in the evening, when the moon shed its +light over Venice, greenish-blue from the sea-mist; +when they quietly glided up the Canale +Grande and the gondolas they met were full of +singers; when the palaces shone in their white +splendour, and thousands of lights mirrored +themselves in the dark waters—then he always +reminded them that they must thank San Marco +for life and happiness.</p> + +<p>But oh, signor! he did not forget him in the +daytime either. When they returned from fishing +and glided over the water of the lagoons, +light-blue and golden; when the city lay before +them, swimming on the waves; when the great +ships passed in and out of the harbour, and the +palace of the Doges shone like a huge jewel-casket, +holding all the world's treasure—then he +never forgot to tell them that all these things +were the gift of San Marco, and that they would +all vanish if a single Venetian were ungrateful +enough to give up believing in and adoring him.</p> + +<p>Then, one day, the sons went out fishing on +the open sea, outside Lido. They were in company +with several others, had a splendid vessel, +and intended being away several days. The +weather was fine, and they hoped for a goodly +haul.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> + +<p>They left the Rialto, the large island where the +city proper lies, one early morning, and as they +passed through the lagoons they saw all the +islands which, like fortifications, protect Venice +against the sea, appear through the mist of the +morning. There were La Gindecca and San +Giorgio on the right, and San Michele, Muracco +and San Lazzaro on the left. Then island followed +upon island in a large circle, right on to +the long Lido lying straight before them, and +forming, as it were, the clasp of this string of +pearls. And beyond Lido was the wide, infinite +sea.</p> + +<p>When they were well at sea, some of them got +into a small boat and rowed out to set their nets. +It was still fine weather, although the waves were +higher here than inside the islands. None of +them, however, dreamt of any danger. They had +a good boat and were experienced men. But +soon those left on the vessel saw that the sea and +the sky suddenly grew darker in the north. They +understood that a storm was coming on, and they +at once shouted to their comrades, but they were +already too far away to hear them.</p> + +<p>The wind first reached the small boat. When +the fishermen suddenly saw the waves rise around +them, as herds of cattle on a large plain arise +in the morning, one of the men in the boat stood +up and beckoned to his comrades, but the same +moment he fell backwards into the sea. Immediately +afterwards a wave came which raised the +boat on her bows, and one could see how the +men, as it were, were shaken from off their seats +and flung into the sea. It only lasted a moment,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +and everything had disappeared. Then the boat +again appeared, keel upwards. The men in the +vessel tried to reach the spot, but could not tack +against the wind.</p> + +<p>It was a terrific storm which came rushing +over the sea, and soon the fishermen in the vessel +had their work set to save themselves. They succeeded +in getting home safely, however, and +brought with them the news of the disaster. It +was Cecco's two sons and three others who had +perished.</p> + +<p>Ah me! how strangely things come about! +The same morning Cecco had gone down to +the Rialto to the fish-market. He went about +amongst the stands and strutted about like a fine +gentleman because he had no need to work. +He even invited a couple of old Lido fishermen +to an asteri and stood them a beaker of wine. +He grew very important as he sat there and +bragged and boasted about his sons. His spirits +rose high, and he took out the zecchine—the +one the Doge had given him when he had saved a +child from drowning in Canale Grande. He was +very proud of this large gold coin, carried it always +about him, and showed it to people whenever +there was an opportunity.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a man entered the asteri and began +to tell about the disaster, without noticing that +Cecco was sitting there. But he had not been +speaking long before Cecco threw himself over +him and seized him by the throat.</p> + +<p>'You do not dare to tell me that they are +dead!' he shrieked—'not my sons!'</p> + +<p>The man succeeded in getting away from him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +but Cecco for a long time went on as if he were +out of his mind. People heard him shout and +groan; they crowded into the asteri—as many +as it could hold—and stood round him in a circle +as if he were a juggler.</p> + +<p>Cecco sat on the floor and moaned. He hit +the hard stone floor with his fist, and said over +and over again:</p> + +<p>'It is San Marco, San Marco, San Marco!'</p> + +<p>'Cecco, you have taken leave of your senses +from grief,' they said to him.</p> + +<p>'I knew it would happen on the open sea,' +Cecco said; 'outside Lido and Malamocco, +there, I knew it would happen. There San +Marco would take them. He bore them a +grudge. I have feared it, boy. Yes,' he said, +without hearing what they said to quiet him, +'they once laughed at him, once when we were +lying outside Lido. He has not forgotten it; he +will not stand being laughed at.'</p> + +<p>He looked with confused glances at the bystanders, +as if to seek help.</p> + +<p>'Look here, Beppo from Malamocca,' he said, +stretching out his hand towards a big fisherman, +'don't you believe it was San Marco?'</p> + +<p>'Don't imagine any such thing, Cecco.'</p> + +<p>'Now you shall hear, Beppo, how it happened. +You see, we were lying out at sea, and to while +away the time I told them how San Marco had +come to Venice. The evangelist San Marco +was first buried in a beautiful cathedral at Alexandria +in Egypt. But the town got into the +possession of unbelievers, and one day the +Khalifa ordered that they should build him a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +magnificent palace at Alexandria, and take some +columns from the Christian churches for its +decoration. But just at that time there were +two Venetian merchants at Alexandria who had +ten heavily-laden vessels lying in the harbour. +When these men entered the church where San +Marco was buried and heard the command of the +Khalifa, they said to the sorrowful priests: +"The precious body which you have in your +church may be desecrated by the Saracens. Give +it to us; we will honour it, for San Marco was +the first to preach on the Lagoon, and the Doge +will reward you." And the priests gave their +consent, and in order that the Christians of Alexandria +should not object, the body of another +holy man was placed in the Evangelist's coffin. +But to prevent the Saracens from getting any +news of the removal of the body, it was placed +at the bottom of a large chest, and above it were +packed hams and smoked bacon, which the +Saracens could not endure. So when the Custom-house +officers opened the lid of the chest, +they at once hurried away. The two merchants, +however, brought San Marco safely to Venice; +you know, Beppo, that this is what they say.'</p> + +<p>'I do, Cecco.'</p> + +<p>'Yes; but just listen now,' and Cecco half +arose, and in his fear spoke in a low voice. +'Something terrible now happened. When I told +the boys that the holy man had been hidden +underneath the bacon, they burst out laughing. +I tried to hush them, but they only laughed the +louder. Giacomo was lying on his stomach in +the bows, and Pietro sat with his legs dangling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> +outside the boat, and they both laughed so that +it could be heard far out over the sea.'</p> + +<p>'But, Cecco, surely two children may be allowed +to laugh.'</p> + +<p>'But don't you understand that is where they +have perished to-day—on the very spot? Or can +you understand why they should have lost their +lives on that spot?'</p> + +<p>Now they all began to talk to him and comfort +him. It was his grief which made him lose +his senses. This was not like San Marco. He +would not revenge himself upon two children. +Was it not natural that when a boat was caught +in a storm this would happen on the open sea +and not in the harbour?</p> + +<p>Surely his sons had not lived in enmity with +San Marco. They had heard them shout, '<em><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Eviva +San Marco!</span></em>' as eagerly as all the others, and had +he not protected them to this very day. He had +never, during the years that had passed, shown +any sign of being angry with them.</p> + +<p>'But, Cecco,' they said, 'you will bring misfortune +upon us with your talk about San Marco. +You, who are an old man and a wise man, should +know better than to raise his anger against the +Venetians. What are we without him?'</p> + +<p>Cecco sat and looked at them bewildered.</p> + +<p>'Then you don't believe it?'</p> + +<p>'No one in his senses would believe such a +thing.'</p> + +<p>It looked as if they had succeeded in quieting +him.</p> + +<p>'I will also try not to believe it,' he said. He +rose and walked towards the door. 'It would be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +too cruel, would it not?' he said. 'They were +too handsome and too brave for anyone to hate +them; I will not believe it.'</p> + +<p>He went home, and in the narrow street outside +his door he met an old woman, one of his +neighbours.</p> + +<p>'They are reading a Mass in the cathedral for +the souls of the dead,' she said to Cecco, and +hurried away. She was afraid of him; he looked +so strange.</p> + +<p>Cecco took his boat and made his way through +the small canals down to Riva degli Schiavoni. +There was a wide view from there; he looked +towards Lido and the sea. Yes, it was a hard +wind, but not a storm by any means; there +were hardly any waves. And his sons had perished +in weather like this! It was inconceivable.</p> + +<p>He fastened his boat, and went across the +Piazetta and the Market Place into San Marco. +There were many people in the church, and they +were all kneeling and praying in great fear; for +it is much more terrible for the Venetians, you +know, than any other people when there is a +disaster at sea. They do not get their living +from vineyards or fields, but they are all, everyone +of them, dependent on the sea. Whenever +the sea rose against any one of them they were +all afraid, and hurried to San Marco to pray to +him for protection.</p> + +<p>As soon as Cecco entered the cathedral he +stopped. He thought of how he had brought +his little sons there, and taught them to pray to +San Marco. 'It is he who carries us over the +sea, who opens the gates of Byzance for us and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +gives us the supremacy over the islands of the +East,' he said to them. Out of gratitude for all +this the Venetians had built San Marco the most +beautiful temple in the world, and no vessel ever +returned from a foreign port without bringing a +gift for San Marco.</p> + +<p>Then they had admired the red marble walls +of the cathedral and the golden mosaic ceiling. +It was as if no misfortune could befall a city that +had such a sanctuary for her patron Saint.</p> + +<p>Cecco quickly knelt down and began to pray, +the one <em>Paternoster</em> after the other. It came +back, he felt. He would send it away by prayers. +He would not believe anything bad about +San Marco.</p> + +<p>But it had been no storm at all. And so much +was certain, that even if the Saint had not sent +the storm, he had, in any case, not done anything +to help Cecco's sons, but had allowed them +to perish as if by accident. When this thought +came upon him he began to pray; but the +thought would not leave him.</p> + +<p>And to think that San Marco had a treasury +in this cathedral full of all the glories of fairyland! +To think that he had himself prayed to him all +his life, and had never rowed past the Piazetta +without going into the cathedral to invoke him!</p> + +<p>Surely it was not by a mere accident that his +sons had to-day perished on the sea! Oh, it +was miserable for the Venetians to have no one +better to depend upon! Just fancy a Saint who +revenged himself upon two children—a patron +Saint who could not protect against a gust of +wind!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> + +<p>He stood up, and he shrugged his shoulders, +and disparagingly waved his hand when he +looked towards the tomb of the Saint in the +chancel.</p> + +<p>A verger was going about with a large chased +silver-gilt dish, collecting gifts for San Marco. +He went from the one person to the other, and +also came to Cecco.</p> + +<p>Cecco drew back as if it were the Evil One himself +who handed him the plate. Did San Marco +ask for gifts from him? Did he think he deserved +gifts from him?</p> + +<p>All at once he seized the large golden zecchine +he had in his belt, and flung it into the plate with +such violence that the ring of it could be heard +all over the church. It disturbed those who were +praying, and made them turn round. And all +who saw Cecco's face were terrified; he looked as +if he were possessed of evil spirits.</p> + +<p>Cecco immediately left the church, and at first +felt it as a great relief that he had been revenged +upon the Saint. He had treated him as one treats +a usurer who demands more than he is entitled to. +'Take this too,' one says, and throws his last gold +piece in the fellow's face so that the blood runs +down over his eyes. But the usurer does not +strike again—simply stoops and picks up the zecchine. +So, too, had San Marco done. He had accepted +Cecco's zecchine, having first robbed him +of his sons. Cecco had made him accept a gift +which had been tendered with such bitter hatred. +Would an honourable man have put up with such +treatment? But San Marco was a coward—both +cowardly and revengeful. But he was not likely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +to revenge himself upon Cecco. He was, no +doubt, pleased and thankful he had got the +zecchine. He simply accepted it and pretended +that it had been given as piously as could be.</p> + +<p>When Cecco stood at the entrance, two vergers +quickly passed him.</p> + +<p>'It rises—it rises terribly!' the one said.</p> + +<p>'What rises?' asked Cecco.</p> + +<p>'The water in the crypt. It has risen a foot in +the last two or three minutes.'</p> + +<p>When Cecco went down the steps, he saw a +small pool of water on the Market Place close to +the bottom step. It was sea-water, which had +splashed up from the Piazetta. He was surprised +that the sea had risen so high, and he hurried +down to the Riva, where his boat lay. Everything +was as he had left it, only the water had +risen considerably. It came rolling in broad +waves through the five sea-gates; but the wind +was not very strong. At the Riva there were already +pools of sea-water, and the canals rose so +that the doors in the houses facing the water had +to be closed. The sky was all gray like the sea.</p> + +<p>It never struck Cecco that it might grow into +a serious storm. He would not believe any such +thing. San Marco had allowed his sons to perish +without cause. He felt sure this was no real +storm. He would just like to see if it would be a +storm, and he sat down beside his boat and +waited.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly rifts appeared in the dull-gray +clouds which covered the sky. The clouds were +torn asunder and flung aside, and large storm-clouds +came rushing, black like warships, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +from them scourging rain and hail fell upon the +city. And something like quite a new sea came +surging in from Lido. Ah, signor! they were +not the swan-necked waves you have seen out +there, the waves that bend their transparent necks +and hasten towards the shore, and which, when +they are pitilessly repulsed, float away again with +their white foam-hair dispersed over the surface +of the sea. These were dark waves, chasing each +other in furious rage, and over their tops the bitter +froth of the sea was whipped into mist.</p> + +<p>The wind was now so strong that the seagulls +could no longer continue their quiet flight, but, +shrieking, were thrust from their course. Cecco +soon saw them with much trouble making their +way towards the sea, so as not to be caught by +the storm and flung against the walls. Hundreds +of pigeons on San Marco's square flew up, beating +their wings, so that it sounded like a new +storm, and hid themselves away in all the nooks +and corners of the church roof.</p> + +<p>But it was not the birds alone that were frightened +by the storm. A couple of gondolas had already +got loose, and were thrown against the +shore, and were nearly shattered. And now all +the gondoliers came rushing to pull their boats +into the boathouses, or place them in shelter in +the small canals.</p> + +<p>The sailors on the ships lying in the harbour +worked with the anchor-chains to make the vessels +fast, in order to prevent them drifting on to +the shore. They took down the clothes hanging +up to dry, pulled their long caps well over +their foreheads, and began to collect all the loose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +articles lying about in order to bring them below +deck. Outside Canale Grande a whole fishing-fleet +came hurrying home. All the people from +Lido and Malamocco who had sold their goods +at the Rialto were rushing homewards, before the +storm grew too violent.</p> + +<p>Cecco laughed when he saw the fishermen +bending over their oars and straining themselves +as if they were fleeing from death itself. Could +they not see that it was only a gust of wind? +They could very well have remained and given +the Venetian women time to buy all their cattle, +fish, and crabs.</p> + +<p>He was certainly not going to pull his boat into +shelter, although the storm was now violent +enough for any ordinary man to have taken notice +of it. The floating bridges were lifted up high +and cast on to the shore, whilst the washerwomen +hurried home shrieking. The broad-brimmed +hats of the signors were blown off into the canals, +from whence the street-boys fished them out with +great glee. Sails were torn from the masts, and +fluttered in the air with a cracking sound; children +were knocked down by the strong wind; and +the clothes hanging on the lines in the narrow +streets were torn to rags and carried far away.</p> + +<p>Cecco laughed at the storm—a storm which +drove the birds away, and played all sorts of +pranks in the street, like a boy. But, all the same, +he pulled his boat under one of the arches of the +bridge. One could really not allow what that +wind might take it into its head to do.</p> + +<p>In the evening Cecco thought that it would +have been fun to have been out at sea. It would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +have been splendid sailing with such a fresh +wind. But on shore it was unpleasant. Chimneys +were blown down; the roofs of the boathouses +were lifted right off; it rained tiles from the +houses into the canals; the wind shook the doors +and the window-shutters, rushed in under the +open loggias of the palaces and tore off the decorations.</p> + +<p>Cecco held out bravely, but he did not go home +to bed. He could not take the boat home with +him, so it was better to remain and look after it. +But when anyone went by and said that it was +terrible weather he would not admit it. He had +experienced very different weather in his young +days.</p> + +<p>'Storm!' he said to himself—'call this a +storm? And they think, perhaps, that it began +the same moment I threw the zecchine to San +Marco. As if he can command a real storm!'</p> + +<p>When night came the wind and the sea grew +still more violent, so that Venice trembled in her +foundations. Doge Gradenigo and the Gentlemen +of the High Council went in the darkness of +the night to San Marco to pray for the city. +Torch-bearers went before them, and the flames +were spread out by the wind, so that they lay flat, +like pennants. The wind tore the Doge's heavy +brocade gown, so that two men were obliged to +hold it.</p> + +<p>Cecco thought this was the most remarkable +thing he had ever seen—Doge Gradenigo going +himself to the cathedral on account of this bit of +a wind! What would those people have done if +there had been a real storm?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> + +<p>The waves beat incessantly against the bulwarks. +In the darkness of the night it was as if +white-headed wresters sprang up from the deep, +and with teeth and claws clung fast to the piles to +tear them loose from the shore. Cecco fancied +he could hear their angry snorts when they were +hurled back again. But he shuddered when he +heard them come again and again, and tear in the +bulwarks.</p> + +<p>It seemed to him that the storm was far more +terrible in the night. He heard shouts in the air, +and that was not the wind. Sometimes black +clouds came drifting like a whole row of heavy +galleys, and it seemed as if they advanced to make +an assault on the city. Then he heard distinctly +someone speaking in one of the riven clouds over +his head.</p> + +<p>'Things look bad for Venice now,' it said from +the one cloud. 'Soon our brothers the evil spirits +will come and overthrow the city.'</p> + +<p>'I am afraid San Marco will not allow it to +happen,' came as a response from the other cloud.</p> + +<p>'San Marco has been knocked down by a +Venetian, so he lies powerless, and cannot help +anyone,' said the first.</p> + +<p>The storm carried the words down to old Cecco, +and from that moment he was on his knees, praying +San Marco for grace and forgiveness. For +the evil spirits had spoken the truth. It did indeed +look bad for Venice. The fair Queen of the +Isles was near destruction. A Venetian had +mocked San Marco, and therefore Venice was in +danger of being carried away by the sea. There +would be no more moonlight sails or her sea and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> +in her canals, and no more barcaroles would be +heard from her black gondolas. The sea would +wash over the golden-haired signoras, over the +proud palaces, over San Marco, resplendent with +gold.</p> + +<p>If there was no one to protect these islands, +they were doomed to destruction. Before San +Marco came to Venice it had often happened that +large portions of them had been washed away by +the waves.</p> + +<p>At early dawn San Marco's Church bells began +to ring. People crept to the church, their clothes +being nearly torn off them.</p> + +<p>The storm went on increasing. The priests had +resolved to go out and adjure the storm and the +sea. The main doors of the cathedral were +opened, and the long procession streamed out of +the church. Foremost the cross was carried, then +came the choir-boys with wax candles, and last in +the procession were carried the banner of San +Marco and the Sacred Host.</p> + +<p>But the storm did not allow itself to be cowed; +on the contrary, it was as if it wished for nothing +better to play with. It upset the choir-boys, blew +out the wax candles, and flung the baldachin, +which was carried over the Host, on to the top of +the Doge's palace. It was with the utmost trouble +that they saved San Marco's banner, with the +winged lion, from being carried away.</p> + +<p>Cecco saw all this, and stole down to his boat +moaning loudly. The whole day he lay near the +shore, often wet by the waves and in danger of +being washed into the sea. The whole day he +was praying incessantly to God and San Marco.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +He felt that the fate of the whole city depended +upon his prayers.</p> + +<p>There were not many people about that day, +but some few went moaning along the Riva. All +spoke about the immeasurable damage the storm +had wrought. One could see the houses tumbling +down on the Murano. It was as if the whole +island were under water. And also on the Rialto +one or two houses had fallen.</p> + +<p>The storm continued the whole day with unabated +violence. In the evening a large multitude +of people assembled at the Market Place and +the Piazetta, although these were nearly covered +with water. People dared not remain in their +houses, which shook in their very foundations. +And the cries of those who feared disaster mingled +with the lamentations of those whom it had +already overtaken. Whole dwellings were under +water; children were drowned in their cradles. +The old and the sick had been swept with the +overturned houses into the waves.</p> + +<p>Cecco was still lying and praying to San Marco. +Oh, how could the crime of a poor fisherman be +taken in such earnest? Surely it was not his fault +that the saint was so powerless! He would let +the demons take him and his boat; he deserved +no better fate. But not the whole city!—oh, +God in heaven, not the whole city!</p> + +<p>'My sons!' Cecco said to San Marco. 'What +do I care about my sons when Venice is at stake! +I would willingly give a son for each tile in danger +of being blown into the canal if I could keep them +in their place at that price. Oh, San Marco, each +little stone of Venice is worth as much as a +promising son.'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> + +<p>At times he saw terrible things. There was a +large galley which had torn itself from its moorings +and now came drifting towards the shore. +It went straight against the bulwark, and struck +it with the ram's head in her bows, just as if it had +been an enemy's ship. It gave blow after blow, +and the attack was so violent that the vessel immediately +sprang a leak. The water rushed in, +the leak grew larger, and the proud ship went to +pieces. But the whole time one could see the +captain and two or three of the crew, who would +not leave the vessel, cling to the deck and meet +death without attempting to escape it.</p> + +<p>The second night came, and Cecco's prayers +continued to knock at the gate of heaven.</p> + +<p>'Let me alone suffer!' he cried. 'San Marco, it +is more than a man can bear, thus to drag others +with him to destruction. Only send thy lion and +kill me; I shall not attempt to escape. Everything +that thou wilt have me give up for the city, +that will I willingly sacrifice.'</p> + +<p>Just as he had uttered these words he looked +towards the Piazetta, and he thought he could +no longer see San Marco's lion on the granite +pillar. Had San Marco permitted his lion to be +overthrown? old Cecco cried. He was nearly +giving up Venice.</p> + +<p>Whilst he was lying there he saw visions and +heard voices all the time. The demons talked and +moved to and fro. He heard them wheeze like +wild beasts every time they made their assaults on +the bulwarks. He did not mind them much; it +was worse about Venice.</p> + +<p>Then he heard in the air above him the beating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +of strong wings; this was surely San Marco's +lion flying overhead. It moved backwards and +forwards in the air; he saw and yet he did not +see it. Then it seemed to him as if it descended +on Riva degli Schiavoni, where he was lying, and +prowled about there. He was on the point of +jumping into the sea from fear, but he remained +sitting where he was. It was no doubt he whom +the lion sought. If that could only save Venice, +then he was quite willing to let San Marco avenge +himself upon him.</p> + +<p>Then the lion came crawling along the ground +like a cat. He saw it making ready to spring. He +noticed that it beat its wings and screwed its large +carbuncle eyes together till they were only small +fiery slits.</p> + +<p>Then old Cecco certainly did think of creeping +down to his boat and hiding himself under the +arch of the bridge, but he pulled himself together +and remained where he was. The same moment +a tall, imposing figure stood by his side.</p> + +<p>'Good-evening, Cecco,' said the man; 'take +your boat and row me across to San Giorgio Maggiore.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, signor,' immediately replied the old fisherman.</p> + +<p>It was as if he had awakened from a dream. +The lion had disappeared, and the man must be +somebody who knew him, although Cecco could +not quite remember where he had seen him +before. He was glad to have company. The +terrible heaviness and anguish that had been over +him since he had revolted against the Saint suddenly +vanished. As to rowing across to San<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +Giorgio, he did not for a moment think that it +could be done.</p> + +<p>'I don't believe we can even get the boat out,' +he said to himself.</p> + +<p>But there was something about the man at his +side that made him feel he must do all he possibly +could to serve him; and he did succeed in getting +out the boat. He helped the stranger into the +boat and took the oars.</p> + +<p>Cecco could not help laughing to himself.</p> + +<p>'What are you thinking about? Don't go out +further in any case,' he said. 'Have you ever seen +the like of these waves? Do tell him that it is +not within the power of man.'</p> + +<p>But he felt as if he could not tell the stranger +that it was impossible. He was sitting there as +quietly as if he were sailing to the Lido on a +summer's eve. And Cecco began to row to San +Giorgio Maggiore.</p> + +<p>It was a terrible row. Time after time the +waves washed over them.</p> + +<p>'Oh, stop him!' Cecco said under his breath; +'do stop the man who goes to sea in such +weather! Otherwise he is a sensible old fisherman. +Do stop him!'</p> + +<p>Now the boat was up a steep mountain, and +then it went down into a valley. The foam +splashed down on Cecco from the waves that +rushed past him like runaway horses, but in spite +of everything he approached San Giorgio.</p> + +<p>'For whom are you doing all this, risking boat +and life?' he said. 'You don't even know +whether he can pay you. He does not look like +a fine gentleman. He is no better dressed than +you are.'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + +<p>But he only said this to keep up his courage, +and not to be ashamed of his tractability. He +was simply compelled to do everything the man +in the boat wanted.</p> + +<p>'But in any case not right to San Giorgio, you +foolhardy old man,' he said. 'The wind is even +worse there than at the Rialto.'</p> + +<p>But he went there, nevertheless, and made the +boat fast whilst the stranger went on shore. He +thought the wisest thing he could do would be +to slip away and leave his boat, but he did not +do it. He would rather die than deceive the +stranger. He saw the latter go into the Church +of San Giorgio. Soon afterwards he returned, +accompanied by a knight in full armour.</p> + +<p>'Row us now to San Nicolo in Lido,' said the +stranger.</p> + +<p>'Ay, ay,' Cecco thought; 'why not to Lido?' +They had already, in constant anguish and +death, rowed to San Giorgio; why should they +not set out for Lido?</p> + +<p>And Cecco was shocked at himself that he +obeyed the stranger even unto death, for he now +actually steered for the Lido.</p> + +<p>Being now three in the boat, it was still +heavier work. He had no idea how he should +be able to do it. 'You might have lived many +years yet,' he said sorrowfully to himself. But +the strange thing was that he was not sorrowful, +all the same. He was so glad that he could have +laughed aloud. And then he was proud that he +could make headway. 'He knows how to use +his oars, does old Cecco,' he said.</p> + +<p>They laid-to at Lido, and the two strangers +went on shore. They walked towards San Nicolo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> +in Lido, and soon returned accompanied by an +old Bishop, with robe and stole, crosier in hand, +and mitre on head.</p> + +<p>'Now row out to the open sea,' said the first +stranger.</p> + +<p>Old Cecco shuddered. Should he row out to +the sea, where his sons perished? Now he had +not a single cheerful word to say to himself. He +did not think so much of the storm, but of the +terror it was to have to go out to the graves +of his sons. If he rowed out there, he felt that he +gave the stranger more than his life.</p> + +<p>The three men sat silently in the boat as if +they were on watch. Cecco saw them bend forward +and gaze into the night. They had reached +the gate of the sea at Lido, and the great storm-ridden +sea lay before them.</p> + +<p>Cecco sobbed within himself. He thought of +two dead bodies rolling about in these waves. +He gazed into the water for two familiar faces. +But onward the boat went. Cecco did not +give in.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly the three men rose up in the +boat; and Cecco fell upon his knees, although +he still went on holding the oars. A big ship +steered straight against them.</p> + +<p>Cecco could not quite tell whether it was a +ship or only drifting mist. The sails were large, +spread out, as it were, towards the four corners +of heaven; and the hull was gigantic, but it +looked as if it were built of the lightest sea-mist. +He thought he saw men on board and heard +shouting; but the crew were like deep darkness, +and the shouting was like the roar of the storm.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p> + +<p>However it was, it was far too terrible to see +the ship steer straight upon them, and Cecco +closed his eyes.</p> + +<p>But the three men in the boat must have +averted the collision, for the boat was not upset. +When Cecco looked up the ship had fled out +to sea, and loud wailings pierced the night.</p> + +<p>He rose, trembling to row further. He felt so +tired that he could hardly hold the oars. But +now there was no longer any danger. The storm +had gone down, and the waves speedily laid themselves +to rest.</p> + +<p>'Now row us back to Venice,' said the stranger +to the fisherman.</p> + +<p>Cecco rowed the boat to Lido, where the +Bishop went on shore, and to San Giorgio, where +the knight left them. The first powerful stranger +went with him all the way to the Rialto.</p> + +<p>When they had landed at Riva degli Schiavoni +he said to the fisherman:</p> + +<p>'When it is daylight thou shalt go to the Doge +and tell him what thou hast seen this night. Tell +him that San Marco and San Giorgio and San +Nicolo have to-night fought the evil spirits that +would destroy Venice, and have put them to +flight.'</p> + +<p>'Yes, signor,' the fisherman answered, 'I will +tell everything. But how shall I speak so that +the Doge will believe me?'</p> + +<p>Then San Marco handed him a ring with a +precious stone possessed of a wonderful lustre.</p> + +<p>'Show this to the Doge,' he said, 'then he will +understand that it brings a message from me. +He knows my ring, which is kept in San Marco's +treasury in the cathedral.'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> + +<p>The fisherman took the ring, and kissed it +reverently.</p> + +<p>'Further, thou shalt tell the Doge,' said the +holy man, 'that this is a sign that I shall never +forsake Venice. Even when the last Doge has +left Palazzo Ducali I will live and preserve Venice. +Even if Venice lose her islands in the East +and the supremacy of the sea, and no Doge ever +again sets out on the Bucintoro, even then I will +preserve the city beautiful and resplendent. It +shall always be rich and beloved, always be +lauded and its praises sung, always a place of joy +for men to live in. Say this, Cecco, and the Doge +will not forsake thee in thine old age.'</p> + +<p>Then he disappeared; and soon the sun rose +above the gate of the sea at Torcello. With its +first beautiful rays it shed a rosy light over the +white city and over the sea that shone in many +colours. A red glow lay over San Giorgio and +San Marco, and over the whole shore, studded +with palaces. And in the lovely morning radiant +Venetian ladies came out on to the loggias and +greeted with smiles the rising day.</p> + +<p>Venice was once again the beautiful goddess, +rising from the sea in her shell of rose-coloured +pearl. Beautiful as never before, she combed her +golden hair, and threw the purple robe around +her, to begin one of her happiest days. For a +transport of bliss filled her when the old fisherman +brought San Marco's ring to the Doge, and she +heard how the Saint, now, and until the end of +time, would hold his protecting hand over her.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> + +<div class="story_title_page"> +<h2 title="Santa Caterina of Siena">V. <a name="Santa_Caterina_of_Siena" id="Santa_Caterina_of_Siena"><em><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Santa</span></em> <span class="smcap">Caterina</span> <span class="dec_italic">of</span> <span class="smcap">Siena</span></a></h2> +<p><span class="dec_italic">From a Swedish</span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">Homestead</span></p> +<p class="story_no">V</p> +<p><span class="dec_italic" lang="it" xml:lang="it">Santa</span> <span class="smcap">Caterina</span> <span class="dec_italic">of</span> <span class="smcap">Siena</span></p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> + +<p class="story_head"><span class="dec_italic" lang="it" xml:lang="it">Santa</span> <span class="smcap">Caterina</span> <span class="dec_italic">of</span> <span class="smcap">Siena</span></p> + +<p>At <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Santa</span> Caterina's house in Siena, on a +day towards the end of April, in the week +when her fête is being celebrated, people +come to the old house in the Street of the Dyers, +to the house with the pretty loggia and with the +many small chambers, which have now been converted +into chapels and sanctuaries, bringing +bouquets of white lilies; and the rooms are fragrant +with incense and violets.</p> + +<p>Walking through these rooms, one cannot +help thinking that it is just as if she were dead +yesterday, as if all those who go in and out of +her home to-day had seen and known her.</p> + +<p>But, on the other hand, no one could really +think that she had died recently, for then there +would be more grief and tears, and not only a +quiet sense of loss. It is more as if a beloved +daughter had been recently married, and had +left the parental home.</p> + +<p>Look only at the nearest houses. The old +walls are still decorated as if for a fête. And in +her own home garlands of flowers are still hanging +beneath the portico and loggia, green leaves +are strewn on the staircase and the doorstep, and +large bouquets of flowers fill the rooms with their +scent.</p> + +<p>She cannot possibly have been dead five hundred +years. It looks much more as if she had +celebrated her marriage, and had gone away to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +a country from which she would not return for +many years, perhaps never. Are not the houses +decorated with nothing but red table-cloths, red +trappings, and red silken banners, and are there +not stuck red-paper roses in the dark garlands +of oak-leaves? and the hangings over the doors +and the windows, are they not red with golden +fringes? Can one imagine anything more +cheerful?</p> + +<p>And notice how the old women go about in +the house and examine her small belongings. It +is as if they had seen her wear that very veil and +that very shirt of hair. They inspect the room in +which she lived, and point to the bedstead and +the packets of letters, and they tell how at first +she could not at all learn to write, but that it +came to her all at once without her having learnt +it. And only look at her writing—how good and +distinct! And then they point to the little bottle +she used to carry at her belt, so as always to have +a little medicine at hand in case she met a sick +person, and they utter a blessing over the old +lantern she held in her hand when she went and +visited the sick in the long weary nights. It is +just as if they would say: 'Dear me—dear me! +that our little Caterina Benincasa should be +gone, that she will never come any more and look +after us old people!' And they kiss her picture, +and take a flower from the bouquets to keep as +a remembrance.</p> + +<p>It looks as if those who were left in the home +had long ago prepared themselves for the separation, +and tried to do everything possible to keep +alive the memory of the one who had gone away.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> +See, there they have painted her on the wall; +there is the whole of her little history represented +in every detail. There she is when she cut off her +beautiful long hair so that no man could ever fall +in love with her, for she would never marry. Oh +dear—oh dear! how much ridicule and scoffing +she had suffered on that account! It is dreadful +to think how her mother tormented her and +treated her like a servant, and made her sleep on +the stone floor in the hall, and would not give +her any food, all because of her being so obstinate +about that hair. But what was she to do when +they continually tried to get her married—she +who would have no other bridegroom than +Christ? And there she is when she was kneeling +in prayer, and her father coming into the room +without her knowing it saw a beautiful white +dove hovering over her head whilst she was praying. +And there she is on that Christmas Eve +when she had gone secretly to the Madonna's +altar in order the more fully to rejoice over the +birth of the Son of God, and the beautiful Madonna +leaned out of her picture and handed the +Child to her that she might be allowed to hold +it for a moment in her arms. Oh, what a joy it +had been for her!</p> + +<p>Oh dear, no; it is not at all necessary to say that +our little Caterina Benincasa is dead. One need +only say that she has gone away with the Bridegroom.</p> + +<p>In her home one will never forget her pious +ways and doings. All the poor of Siena come and +knock at her door because they know that it is the +marriage-day of the little virgin, and large piles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> +of bread lie in readiness for them as if she were +still there. They have their pockets and baskets +filled; had she herself been there, she could not +have sent them away more heavily laden. She +who had gone away had left so great a want that +one almost wonders the Bridegroom had the +heart to take her away with him.</p> + +<p>In the small chapels which have been arranged +in every corner of the house they read Mass the +whole day, and they invoke the bride and sing +hymns in her praise.</p> + +<p>'Holy Caterina,' they say, 'on this the day of +thy death, which is thine heavenly wedding-day, +pray for us!'</p> + +<p>'Holy Caterina, thou who hadst no other love +but Christ, thou who in life wert His affianced +bride, and who in death wast received by Him in +Paradise, pray for us!'</p> + +<p>'Holy Caterina, thou radiant heavenly bride, +thou most blessed of virgins, thou whom the +mother of God exalted to her Son's side, thou +who on this day wast carried by angels to the +kingdom of glory, pray for us!'</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>It is strange how one comes to love her, how +the home and the pictures and the love of the old +and the poor seem to make her living, and one +begins to wonder how she really was, whether she +was only a saint, only a heavenly bride, and if it +is true that she was unable to love any other than +Christ. And then comes to one's mind an old +story which warmed one's heart long ago, at first +quite vague and without shape, but whilst one is +sitting there under the loggia in the festively deco<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>rated +home and watching the poor wander away +with their full baskets, and hearing the subdued +murmur from the chapels, the story becomes +more and more distinct, and suddenly it is vivid +and clear.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Nicola Tungo was a young nobleman of Perugia, +who often came to Siena on account of the +races. He soon found out how badly Siena was +governed, and often said, both at the festive gatherings +of the great and when he sat drinking in +the inns, that Siena ought to rise against the Signoria +and procure other rulers.</p> + +<p>The Signoria had not been in power for more +than half a year; they did not feel particularly +firm in their office, and did not like the Perugian +stirring up the people. In order promptly to put +a stop to it, they had him imprisoned, and after a +short trial he was sentenced to death. He was +placed in a cell in the Palazzo Publico whilst +preparations were being made for his execution, +which was to take place the next morning in the +Market Place.</p> + +<p>At first he was strangely affected. To-morrow +he would no more wear his green velvet doublet +and his beautiful sword; he would no more walk +down the street in his cap with the ostrich-feather +and attract the glances of the young maidens, and +he had a feeling of painful disappointment that he +would never ride the new horse which he bought +yesterday, and which he had only tried once.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he called the gaoler, and asked him +to go to the gentlemen of the Signoria and tell +them that he could not possibly allow himself to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +be killed; he had no time. He had far too much +to do. Life could not do without him. His father +was old, and he was the only son; it was through +his descendants that the family should be continued. +It was he who should give away his sisters +in marriage, he who should build the new +palace, he who should plant the new vineyard.</p> + +<p>He was a strong young man; he did not know +what sickness was, had nothing but life in his +veins. His hair was dark and his cheeks red. He +could not realize that he should die.</p> + +<p>When he thought of their wanting to take him +away from pleasure and dancing, and the carnival, +and from the races next Sunday, and from the +serenade he was going to sing to the beautiful +<span class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: Original has Guilietta">Giulietta</span> Lombardi, he became furiously angry, +and his wrath was roused against the councillors +as though they were thieves and robbers. The +scoundrels—the scoundrels that would take his +life from him!</p> + +<p>But as time went on his longings grew deeper; +he longed for air and water and heaven and earth. +He felt he would not mind being a beggar by the +wayside; he would gladly suffer sickness and +hunger and cold if only he were allowed to live.</p> + +<p>He wished that everything might die with him, +that nothing would be left when he was gone; +that would have been a great consolation.</p> + +<p>But that people should go to the Market Place +and buy and sell, and that the women would fetch +water from the well, and that the children would +run in the streets the next day and all days, and +that he would not be there to see, that he could +not bear. He envied not only those who could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +live in luxury and pleasure, and were happy; he +envied quite as much the most miserable cripple. +What he wanted was life, solely life.</p> + +<p>Then the priests and the monks came to see +him. It made him almost happy, for now he had +someone upon whom he could wreak his anger. +He first allowed them to talk a little. It amused +him to hear what they had to say to a man so +deeply wronged as he was, but when they said +that he ought to rejoice that he was permitted to +leave this life and gain the bliss of heaven in +the fulness of his youth, then he started up and +poured forth his wrath upon them. He scoffed +at God and the joys of heaven—he did not want +them. He would have life, and the world, and +its pomps and vanities. He regretted every day +in which he had not revelled in earthly enjoyment; +he regretted every temptation he had resisted. +God need not trouble Himself in the least +about him; he felt no longing for His heaven.</p> + +<p>The priests continued to speak; he seized one +of them by the throat, and would have killed him +had not the gaoler thrown himself between them. +They now bound and gagged him, and then +preached to him; but as soon as he was allowed +to speak he raged as before. They talked to him +for many hours, but they saw that it was of no +avail.</p> + +<p>When they could think of nothing else to do, +one of them suggested they should send for the +young Caterina Benincasa, who had shown great +power in subduing defiant spirits. When the +Perugian heard the name he suddenly ceased his +abuse. In truth, it pleased him. It was some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>thing +quite different, having to do with a young, +beautiful maiden.</p> + +<p>'By all means send for the maiden,' he said.</p> + +<p>He knew that she was the young daughter of a +dyer, and that she went about alone and preached +in the lanes and streets of the town. Some +thought she was mad, others said that she had +visions. For him she might, anyhow, be better +company than these dirty monks, who made him +completely beside himself.</p> + +<p>The monks then went their way, and he was +alone. Shortly afterwards the door was again +opened, but if she for whom they had sent had +really entered the cell, she must have walked with +very light footsteps, for he heard nothing. He +lay on the floor just as he had thrown himself +down in his great anger; now he was too tired to +raise himself, or make a movement, or even to +look up. His arms were tied together with ropes, +which cut deep into his flesh.</p> + +<p>He now felt that someone began to loosen his +bands; a warm hand touched his arm, and he +looked up. Beside him lay a little figure in the +white dress of the Dominicans, with head and +neck so shrouded in a white veil that there was +not more of her face to be seen than of that of a +knight in helmet and closed visor.</p> + +<p>She did not look so meek by any means; she +was evidently a little annoyed. He heard her +murmur something about the gaolers who had +tightened the bands. It did not appear as if she +had come for any other purpose than these knots. +She was only taken up with loosening them so +that they did not hurt. At last she had to bite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +in them, and then she succeeded. She untied the +cord with a light hand, and then took the little +bottle which was suspended from her belt and +poured a few drops upon the chafed skin.</p> + +<p>He lay the whole time and looked at her, but +she did not meet his glance; it appeared as if she +could think of nothing else but what she had between +her hands. It was as if nothing were further +from her thoughts than that she was there +to prepare him for death. He felt so exhausted +after his passion, and at the same time so quieted +by her presence, that he only said:</p> + +<p>'I think I will sleep.'</p> + +<p>'It is a great shame that they have not given +you any straw,' she said.</p> + +<p>For a moment she looked about undecided. +Then she sat down upon the floor, and placed his +head in her lap.</p> + +<p>'Are you better now?' she said.</p> + +<p>Never in his whole life had he felt such a rest. +Yet sleep he could not, but he lay and looked up +in her face, which was like wax, and transparent. +Such eyes he had never seen before. They were +always looking far, far away, gazing into another +world, whilst she sat quite motionless, so as not +to disturb his sleep.</p> + +<p>'You are not sleeping, Nicola Tungo,' she said, +and looked uneasy.</p> + +<p>'I cannot sleep,' he replied, 'because I am wondering +who you can be.'</p> + +<p>'I am a daughter of Luca Benincasa the dyer, +and his wife Lapa,' she said.</p> + +<p>'I know that,' he said, 'and I also know that +you go about and preach in the streets. And I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> +know that you have attired yourself in the dress +of a nun, and have taken the vows of chastity. +But yet I don't know who you are.'</p> + +<p>She turned her head away a little. Then she +said, whispering like one who confesses her first +love:</p> + +<p>'I am the Bride of Christ.'</p> + +<p>He did not laugh. On the contrary, he felt +quite a pang in his heart, as from jealousy.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Christ!' he said, as if she had thrown herself +away.</p> + +<p>She heard that his tone was contemptuous, but +she thought he meant that she had spoken too +presumptuously.</p> + +<p>'I do not understand it myself,' she said, 'but +so it is.'</p> + +<p>'Is it an imagination or a dream?' he said.</p> + +<p>She turned her face towards him. The blood +rose red behind the transparent skin. He saw +suddenly that she was fair as a flower, and she became +dear to him. He moved his lips as if to +speak, but at first no sound came.</p> + +<p>'How can you expect me to believe that?' he +said defiantly.</p> + +<p>'Is it not enough for you that I am here in the +prison with you?' she asked, raising her voice. +'Is it any pleasure for a young girl like me to go +to you and other evil-doers in their gloomy dungeons? +Is it usual for a woman to stand and +preach at the street corners as I do, and to be held +in derision? Do I not require sleep as other people? +And yet I must rise every night and go to +the sick in the hospitals. Am I not timid as other +women? And yet I must go to the high-born<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> +gentlemen at their castles and reason with them, +I must go to the plague-smitten, I must see all +vice and sin. When have you seen another +maiden do all this? But I am obliged to do it.'</p> + +<p>'Poor thing!' he said, and stroked her hand +gently—'poor thing!'</p> + +<p>'For I am not braver, or wiser, or stronger +than others,' she said. 'It is just as hard for me +as for other maidens. You can see that. I have +come here to speak with you about your soul, but +I do not at all know what I shall say to you.'</p> + +<p>It was strange how reluctantly he would allow +himself to be convinced.</p> + +<p>'You may be mistaken all the same,' he said. +'How do you know that you can call yourself the +Bride of Christ?'</p> + +<p>Her voice trembled, and it was as if she should +tear out her heart when she replied:</p> + +<p>'It began when I was quite young; I was not +more than six years old. It was one evening +when I was walking with my brother in the +meadow below the church of the Dominicans, and +just as I looked up at the church I saw Christ sitting +on a throne, surrounded by all His power and +glory. He was attired in shining white garments +like the Holy Father in Rome. His head was +surrounded by all the splendour of Paradise, and +around Him stood Pietro Paolo and the Evangelist +Giovanni. And whilst I gazed upon Him my +heart was filled with such a love and holy joy that +I could hardly bear it. He lifted His hand and +blessed me, and I sank down on the meadow, and +was so overcome with bliss, that my brother had +to take me in his arms and shake me. And ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> +since that time, Nicola Tungo, I have loved Jesus +as a bridegroom.'</p> + +<p>He again objected.</p> + +<p>'You were a child then. You had fallen asleep +in the meadow and were dreaming.'</p> + +<p>'Dreaming?' she repeated. 'Have I been +dreaming all the time I have seen Him? Was it +a dream when He came to me in the church in the +likeness of a beggar and asked for alms? Then I +was wide awake, at any rate. And do you think +that for the sake of a dream only I could have +borne all the worries I have had to bear as a +young girl because I would not marry?'</p> + +<p>Nicola went on contradicting her because he +could not bear the thought that her heart was +filled with love to another.</p> + +<p>'But even if you do love Christ, maiden, how +do you know that He loves you?'</p> + +<p>She smiled her very happiest smile and clapped +her hands like a child.</p> + +<p>'Now you shall hear,' she said. 'Now I will +tell you the most important of all. It was the last +night before Lent. It was after my parents and +I had been reconciled, and I had obtained their +permission to take the vow of chastity and wear +the dress of a nun, although I continued to live in +their house; and it was night, as I told you, the +last night of the carnival, when everybody turns +night into day. There were fêtes in every street. +On the walls of the big palaces hung balconies +like cages, completely covered with silken hangings +and banners, and filled with noble ladies. I +saw all their beauty by the light of the red torches +in their bronze-holders, the one row over the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +other quite up to the roof; and in the gaily decorated +streets there was a train of carriages, with +golden towers, and all the gods and goddesses, +and all the virtues and beauties went by in a long +procession. And everywhere there was such a +play of masks and so much merriment that I am +sure that you, sir, have never taken part in anything +more gay. And I took refuge in my chamber, +but still I heard laughter from the street, and +never before have I heard people laugh like that; +it was so clear and bell-like that everyone was +obliged to join in it. And they sang songs +which, I suppose, were wicked, but they sounded +so innocent, and caused such pleasure, that one's +heart trembled. Then, in the middle of my prayers, +I suddenly began to wonder why I was not +out amongst them, and the thought fascinated +and tempted me, as if I were dragged along by a +runaway horse; but never before have I prayed +so intensely to Christ to show me what was His +will with me. Suddenly all the noise ceased, a +great and wonderful silence surrounded me, and +I saw a great meadow, where the Mother of God +sat amongst the flowers, and on her lap lay the +Child Jesus, playing with lilies. But I hurried +thither in great joy, and knelt before the Child, +and was at the same moment filled with peace and +quietness, and then the Holy Child placed a ring +on my finger, and said to me, "Know, Caterina, +that to-day I celebrate My betrothal with thee, +and bind thee to Me by the strongest faith."'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Caterina!'</p> + +<p>The young Perugian had turned himself on the +floor, so that he could bury his face in her lap. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +was as if he could not bear to see how radiant she +was whilst she was speaking, and now her eyes +became bright as stars. A shadow of pain passed +over him. For whilst she spoke a great sorrow +had sprung up in his heart. This little maiden, +this little white maiden, he could never win. Her +love belonged to another; it could never be his. +It was of no use even to tell her that he loved her; +but he suffered; his whole being groaned in +love's agony. How could he bear to live without +her? It almost became a consolation to remember +that he was sentenced to death. It was not +necessary for him to live and do without her.</p> + +<p>Then the little woman beside him sighed +deeply, and came back from the joys of heaven in +order to think of poor human beings.</p> + +<p>'I forgot to speak to you about your soul,' she +said.</p> + +<p>Then, he thought: 'This burden, at any rate, +I can lighten for her.'</p> + +<p>'Sister Caterina,' he said, 'I do not know how +it is, but heavenly consolation has come to me. +In God's name I will prepare for death. Now +you may send for the priests and monks; now I +will confess to them. But one thing you must +promise me before you go: you must come to +me to-morrow, when I shall die, and hold my +head between your hands as you are doing now.'</p> + +<p>When he said this she burst into tears, from a +great feeling of relief, and an unspeakable joy +filled her.</p> + +<p>'How happy you must be, Nicola Tungo!' she +said. 'You will be in Paradise before I am;' and +she stroked his face gently.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> + +<p>He said again:</p> + +<p>'You will come to me to-morrow in the Market +Place? Perhaps I shall otherwise be afraid; perhaps +I cannot otherwise die with steadfastness. +But when you are there I shall feel nothing but +joy, and all fear will leave me.'</p> + +<p>'You do not seem to me any more as a poor +mortal,' she said, 'but as a dweller of Paradise. +You appear to me radiant with life, surrounded +by incense. Bliss comes to me from you, who +shall so soon meet my beloved Bridegroom. Be +assured I shall come.'</p> + +<p>She then led him to confession and the Communion. +He felt the whole time as if he were +asleep. All the fear of death and the longing for +life had passed away from him. He longed for +the morning, when he should see her again; he +thought only of her, and of the love with which +she had inspired him. Death seemed to him now +but a slight thing compared with the pain of the +thought that she would never love him.</p> + +<p>The young maiden did not sleep much during +the night, and early in the morning she went to +the place of execution, to be there when he came. +She invoked Jesu, Mother, Marie, and the Holy +Caterina of Egypt, virgin and martyr, incessantly +with prayers to save his soul. Incessantly she repeated: +'I will that he shall be saved—I will, I +will.' But she was afraid that her prayers were +unavailing, for she did not feel any longer that +ecstasy which had filled her the evening before; +she only felt an infinite pity for him who should +die. She was quite overcome with grief and sorrow.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> + +<p>Little by little the Market Place filled with +people. The soldiers marched up, the executioner +arrived, and much noise and talking went +on around her; but she saw and heard nothing. +She felt as if she were quite alone.</p> + +<p>When Nicola Tungo arrived, it was just the +same with him. He had no thought for all the +others, but saw only her. When he saw at the +first glance that she was entirely overcome with +sorrow, his face beamed, and he felt almost +happy. He called loudly to her:</p> + +<p>'You have not slept much this night, maiden?'</p> + +<p>'No,' she said; 'I have watched in prayer for +you; but now I am in despair, for my prayers +have no power.'</p> + +<p>He knelt down before the block, and she knelt +so that she could hold his head in her hands.</p> + +<p>'Now I am going to your Bridegroom, +Caterina.'</p> + +<p>She sobbed more and more.</p> + +<p>'I can comfort you so badly,' she said.</p> + +<p>He looked at her with a strange smile.</p> + +<p>'Your tears are my best comfort.'</p> + +<p>The executioner stood with his sword drawn, +but she bade him with a movement stand on one +side, for she would speak a few words with the +doomed man.</p> + +<p>'Before you came,' she said, 'I laid my head +down on the block to try if I could bear it; and +then I felt that I was still afraid of death, that I do +not love Jesus enough to be willing to die in this +hour; and I do not wish you to die either, and my +prayers have no power.'</p> + +<p>When he heard this he thought: 'Had I lived<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +I should have won her'; and he was glad he +should die before he had succeeded in drawing the +radiant heavenly bride down to earth. But when +he had laid his head in her hands, a great consolation +came to them both.</p> + +<p>'Nicola Tungo,' she said, 'I see heaven open. +The angels descend to receive your soul.'</p> + +<p>A wondering smile passed over his face. Could +what he had done for her sake make him worthy +of heaven? He lifted his eyes to see what she +saw; the same moment the sword fell.</p> + +<p>But Caterina saw the angels descend lower and +lower, saw them lift his soul, saw them carry it to +heaven.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>All at once it seemed so natural that Caterina +Benincasa has lived all these five hundred years. +How could one forget that gentle little maiden, +that great loving heart? Again and again they +must sing in her praise, as they are now singing +in the small chapels:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Pia Mater et humilis,</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Naturæ memor fragilis,</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">In hujus vitæ fluctibus</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Nos rege tuis precibus.</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Quem vidi, quem amavi,</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">In quem credidi, quem dilexi,</span><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ora pro nobis.</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ut digni efficiamur promessionibus Christi!</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Santa Caterina, ora pro nobis!</span>'<a name="FNanchor_B" id="FNanchor_B"></a><a href="#Footnote_B" class="fnanchor">[B]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_B" id="Footnote_B"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> Pious and gentle Mother, thou who knowest our weak +nature, guide us by thy prayers through this life's vicissitudes. +Thou, whom I saw and loved, in whom I believed and whom +I adored, pray for us, that we may be worthy of Christ's +promises. Holy Caterina, pray for us!</p></div> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> +<div class="story_title_page"> +<h2 title="The Empress's Money-Chest">VI. <a name="Money-Chest" id="Money-Chest"><span class="dec_italic">The Empress's</span> <span class="smcap">Money-Chest</span></a></h2> +<p><span class="dec_italic">From a Swedish</span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">Homestead</span></p> +<p class="story_no">VI</p> +<p><span class="dec_italic">The Empress's</span> <span class="smcap">Money-Chest</span></p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + +<p class="story_head"><span class="dec_italic">The Empress's</span> <span class="smcap">Money-Chest</span></p> + +<p>The Bishop had summoned Father Verneau +to appear before him. It was on +account of a somewhat unpleasant matter. +Father Verneau had been sent to preach in the +manufacturing districts around Charleroi, but he +had arrived there in the midst of a strike, when +the workmen were rather excited and unmanageable. +He informed the Bishop that he had +immediately on his arrival in the Black Country +received a letter from one of the leaders of the +men to the effect that they were quite willing to +hear him preach, but if he ventured to mention +the name of God either directly or indirectly, +there would be a disturbance in the church.</p> + +<p>'And when I went up into the pulpit and saw +the congregation to whom I should preach,' said +the Father, 'I felt no doubt but that the threat +would be carried out.'</p> + +<p>Father Verneau was a little dried-up monk. +The Bishop looked down upon him as being of +a lower order. Such an unshaven, not too clean +monk, with the most insignificant face, was, of +course, a coward. He was, probably, also afraid +of the Bishop.</p> + +<p>'I have been informed,' said the Bishop, 'that +you carried out the workmen's wishes. But I +need not point out——'</p> + +<p>'Monseigneur,' interrupted Father Verneau in +all humility, 'I thought the Church, if possible,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> +would avoid everything that might lead to a disturbance.'</p> + +<p>'But a Church that dare not mention the name +of God——'</p> + +<p>'Has Monseigneur heard my sermon?'</p> + +<p>The Bishop walked up and down the floor to +calm himself.</p> + +<p>'You know it by heart, of course?' he said.</p> + +<p>'Of course, Monseigneur.'</p> + +<p>'Let me hear it, then, as it was delivered, +Father Verneau, word for word, exactly as you +preached it.'</p> + +<p>The Bishop sat down in his arm-chair. Father +Verneau remained standing.</p> + +<p>'"Citizens and citizenesses," he began in the +tone of a lecturer.</p> + +<p>The Bishop started.</p> + +<p>'Yes, that is how they will be addressed, Monseigneur.'</p> + +<p>'Never mind, Father Verneau, only proceed.'</p> + +<p>The Bishop shuddered slightly; these two +words had suddenly shown him the whole situation. +He saw before him this gathering of the +children of the Black Country, to whom Father +Verneau had preached. He saw many wild faces, +many rags, much coarse merriment. He saw +these people for whom nothing had been done.</p> + +<p>'"Citizens and citizenesses," began Father Verneau +afresh, "there is in this country an Empress +called Maria Theresa. She is an excellent ruler, +the best and wisest Belgium has ever had. Other +rulers, my fellow-citizens, other rulers have successors +when they die, and lose all power over +their people. Not so the great Empress Maria<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> +Theresa. She may have lost the throne of Austria +and Hungary; Brabant and Limburg may +now be under other rulers, but not her good province +of West Flanders. In West Flanders, where +I have lived the last few years, no other ruler is +known to this very day than Maria Theresa. We +know King Leopold lives in Brussels, but that +has nothing to do with us. It is Maria Theresa +who still reigns here by the sea, more especially +in the fishing villages. The nearer one gets to +the sea, the mightier becomes her power. Neither +the great Revolution, nor the Empire, nor the +Dutch have had the power to overthrow her. +How could they? They have done nothing for +the children of the sea that can compare with +what she has done. But what has she not done +for the people on the dunes! What an invaluable +treasure, my fellow-citizens, has she not bestowed +upon them!</p> + +<p>'"About one hundred and fifty years ago, in +the early part of her reign, she made a journey +through Belgium. She visited Brussels and +Bruges, she went to Liege and Louvain, and +when she had at last seen enough of large cities +and profusely ornamented town-halls, she went +to the coast to see the sea and the dunes.</p> + +<p>'"It was not a very cheering sight for her. She +saw the ocean, so vast and mighty that no man +can fight against it. She saw the coast, helpless +and unprotected. There lay the dunes, but the +sea had washed over them before, and might do +so again. There were also dams, but they had +fallen down and were neglected.</p> + +<p>'"She saw harbours filled with sand; she saw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> +marshes overgrown with rushes and weeds; she +saw, below the dunes, fishing-huts ravaged by the +wind—huts looking as if they had been thrown +there, a prey for the sea; she saw poor old +churches that had been moved away from the +sea, lying between quicksands and lyme-grass, in +desolate wastes.</p> + +<p>'"The great Empress sat a whole day by the +sea. She was told all about the floods and the +towns that had been washed away; she was shown +the spot where a whole district had sunk under +the sea; she was rowed out to the place where +an old church stood at the bottom of the sea; and +she was told about all the people who had been +drowned, and of all the cattle that had been lost, +the last time the sea had overflowed the dunes.</p> + +<p>'"The whole day through the Empress sat +thinking: 'How shall I help these poor people +on the dunes? I cannot forbid the sea to rise and +fall; I cannot forbid it to undermine the shore; +nor can I stay the storm, or prevent it from upsetting +the fishermen's boats; and still less can I +lead the fish into their nets, or transform the lyme-grass +into nutritious wheat. There is no monarch +in the world so mighty that he can help these +poor people in their need.'</p> + +<p>'"The next day it was Sunday, and the Empress +heard Mass at Blankenberghe. All the people +from Dunkirk to Sluis had come to see her. +But before Mass the Empress went about and +spoke with the people.</p> + +<p>'"The first person she addressed was the harbour-master +from Nieuport. 'What news is there +from your town?' asked the Empress. 'Noth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>ing +new,' answered the harbour-master, 'except +that Cornelis Aertsen's boat was upset in the +storm yesterday; and we found him this morning +riding on the keel.' 'It was a good thing his +life was saved,' said the Empress. 'Well, I don't +know,' said the harbour-master, 'for he was out +of his mind when he came on shore.' 'Was it +from fear?' asked the Empress. 'Yes,' said the +harbour-master; 'it is because we in Nieuport +have nothing to depend upon in the hour of need. +Cornelis knew that his wife and his small children +would starve to death if he perished; and +it was this thought, I suppose, that drove him out +of his mind.' 'Then that is what you need here +on the dunes—something to depend upon?' +'Yes, that is it,' said the harbour-master. 'The +sea is uncertain, the harvest is uncertain, the fishing +and the earnings are uncertain. Something +to depend upon, that is what we need.'</p> + +<p>'"The Empress then went on, and the next +she spoke to was the priest from Heyst. 'What +news from Heyst?' said she to him. 'Nothing +new,' he answered, 'except that Jacob van Ravesteyn +has given up making ditches in the marshes, +and dredging the harbour, and attending to the +lighthouses, and all other useful work he had to +do.' 'How is that?' said the Empress. 'He has +inherited a sum of money,' said the priest; 'but +it was less than he had expected.' 'But now he +has something certain,' said the Empress. 'Yes,' +said the priest; 'but now he has got the money +he dare not venture to do anything great for fear +it will not be sufficient.' 'It is something infinitely +great, then, that is needed to help you at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +Heyst?' said the Empress. 'It is,' said the priest; +'there is infinitely much to do. And nothing can +be done until we know that we have something +infinitely great to fall back upon.'</p> + +<p>'"The Empress then went on until she came +to the master-pilot from Middelkerke, whom she +began to question about the news from his town. +'I do not know of anything new,' said the master-pilot, +'but that Ian van der Meer has quarrelled +with Luca Neerwinden.' 'Indeed!' said the Empress. +'Yes, they have found the cod-bank they +have both been looking for all their lives. They +had heard about it from old people, and they had +hunted for it all over the sea, and they have been +the best of friends the whole time, but now they +have found it they have fallen out.' 'Then it +would have been better if they had never found +it?' said the Empress. 'Yes,' answered the master-pilot, +'it would indeed have been better.' +'So, then, that which is to help you in Middelkerke,' +said the Empress, 'must be hidden so well +that no one can find it?' 'Just so,' said the +master-pilot; 'well hidden it must be, for if anyone +should find it, there would be nothing but +quarrelling and strife over it, or else it would be +all spent, and then it would be of no further use.'</p> + +<p>'"The Empress sighed, and felt she could do +nothing.</p> + +<p>'"She then went to Mass, and the whole time +she knelt and prayed that power might be given +her to help the people. And—you must excuse +me, citizens—when the Mass was finished, it had +become clear to her that it was better to do a little +than to do nothing. When all the people had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> +come out of the church, she stood on the steps in +order to address them.</p> + +<p>'"No man or woman of West Flanders will +ever forget how she looked. She was beautiful, +like an Empress, and she was attired like an Empress. +She wore her crown and her ermine mantle, +and held the sceptre in her hand. Her hair +was dressed high and powdered, and a string of +large pearls was entwined amongst the curls. She +wore a robe of red silk, which was entirely covered +with Flemish lace, and red, high-heeled +shoes, with large diamond buckles. That is how +she appears, she who to this day still reigns over +our West Flanders.</p> + +<p>'"She spoke to the people of the coast, and +told them her will. She told them of how she +had thought of every way in which to help them. +She said that they knew she could not compel +the sea to quietness or chain the storm, that she +could not lead the fish-shoals to the coast, or +transform the lyme-grass into wheat; but what +a poor mortal could do for them, that should be +done.</p> + +<p>'"They all knelt before her whilst she spoke. +Never before had they felt such a gentle and +motherly heart beat for them. The Empress +spoke to them in such a manner about their hard +and toilsome life that tears came into their eyes +over her pity.</p> + +<p>'"But now the Empress said she had decided +to leave with them her Imperial money-chest, +with all the treasures which it contained. That +should be her gift to all those who lived on the +dunes. That was the only assistance she could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> +render them, and she asked them to forgive her +that it was so poor; and the Empress herself +had tears in her eyes when she said this.</p> + +<p>'"She now asked them if they would promise +and swear not to use any of the treasure until +the need amongst them was so great that it could +not become any greater. Next, if they would +swear to leave it as an inheritance for their descendants, +if they did not require it themselves. +And, lastly, she asked every man singly to swear +that he would not try to take possession of the +treasure for his own use without having first +asked the consent of all his fellow-fishermen.</p> + +<p>'"If they were willing to swear? That they all +were. And they blessed the Empress and cried +from gratitude. And she cried and told them that +she knew that what they needed was a support +that would never fail them, a treasure that could +never be exhausted, and a happiness that was unattainable, +but that she could not give them. She +had never been so powerless as here on the dunes.</p> + +<p>'"My fellow-citizens, without her knowing it, +solely by force of the royal wisdom with which +this great Queen was endowed, the power was +given her to attain far more than she had intended, +and it is therefore one can say that to this +day she reigns over West Flanders.</p> + +<p>'"What a happiness, is it not, to hear of all +the blessings which have been spread over West +Flanders by the Empress's gift! The people +there have now something to depend upon which +they needed so badly, and which we all need. +However bad things may be, there is never any +despair.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> + +<p>'"They have told me at the dunes what the +Empress's money-chest is like. They say it is +like the holy shrine of Saint Ursula at Bruges, +only more beautiful. It is a copy of the cathedral +at Vienna, and it is of pure gold; but on the sides +the whole history of the Empress is depicted in +the whitest alabaster. On the small side-towers +are the four diamonds which the Empress took +from the crown of the Sultan of Turkey, and in +the gable are her initials inlaid with rubies. But +when I ask them whether they have seen the +money-chest, they reply that shipwrecked sailors +when in peril always see it swimming before them +on the waves as a sign that they shall not be in +despair for their wives and children, should they +be compelled to leave them. But they are the +only ones who have seen the treasure, otherwise +no one has been near enough to count it. And +you know, citizens, that the Empress never told +anyone how great it was. But if any of you doubt +how much use it has been and is, then I will ask +you to go to the dunes and see for yourself. +There has been digging and building ever since +that time, and the sea now lies cowed by bulwarks +and dams, and no longer does harm. And there +are green meadows inside the dunes, and there +are flourishing towns and watering-places near +the shore. But for every lighthouse that has been +built, for every harbour that has been deepened, +for every ship of which the keel has been laid, for +every dam that has been raised, they have always +thought: 'If our own money should not be sufficient, +we shall receive help from our Gracious +Empress Maria Theresa.' But this has been but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +a spur to them: their own money has always sufficed.</p> + +<p>'"You know, also, that the Empress did not +say where the treasure was. Was not this well +considered, citizens? There is one who has it in +his keeping, but only, when all are agreed upon +dividing it, will he who keeps the treasure come +forward and reveal where it is. Therefore one +is certain that neither now nor in the future will +it be unfairly divided. It is the same for all. +Everyone knows that the Empress thinks as much +of him as of his neighbour. There can be no strife +or envy amongst the people of the dunes as there +is amongst other men, for they all share alike in +the treasure."'</p> + +<p>The Bishop interrupted Father Verneau.</p> + +<p>'That is enough,' he said. 'How did you continue?'</p> + +<p>'I said,' continued the monk, 'that it was very +bad the good Empress had not also come to +Charleroi. I pitied them because they did not own +her money-chest. Considering the great things +they had to accomplish, considering the sea which +they had to tame, the quicksands which they had +to bind, considering all this, I said to them surely +there was nothing they needed so much.'</p> + +<p>'And then?' asked the Bishop.</p> + +<p>'One or two cabbages, your Eminence, a little +hissing; but then I was already out of the pulpit. +That was all.'</p> + +<p>'They had understood that you had spoken to +them about the providence of God?'</p> + +<p>The monk bowed.</p> + +<p>'They had understood that you would show<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +them that the power which they deride because +they do not see it must be kept hidden? that it will +be abused immediately it assumes a visible form? +I congratulate you, Father Verneau.'</p> + +<p>The monk retired towards the door, bowing. +The Bishop followed him, beaming benevolently.</p> + +<p>'But the money-chest—do they still believe in +it at the dunes?'</p> + +<p>'As much as ever, Monseigneur.'</p> + +<p>'And the treasure—has there ever been a treasure?'</p> + +<p>'Monseigneur, I have sworn.'</p> + +<p>'But for me,' said the Bishop.</p> + +<p>'It is the priest at Blankenberghe, who has it in +his keeping. He allowed me to see it. It is an +old wooden chest with iron mountings.'</p> + +<p>'And?'</p> + +<p>'And at the bottom lie twenty bright Maria +Theresa gold pieces.'</p> + +<p>The Bishop smiled, but became grave at once.</p> + +<p>'Is it right to compare such a wooden chest +with God's providence?'</p> + +<p>'All comparisons are incomplete, Monseigneur; +all human thoughts are vain.'</p> + +<p>Father Verneau bowed once again, and quietly +withdrew from the audience-room.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p> + +<div class="story_title_page"> +<h2 title="Peace of God">VII <a name="Peace" id="Peace"><span class="dec_italic">The</span> <span class="smcap">Peace</span> <span class="dec_italic">of</span> <span class="smcap">God</span></a></h2> +<p><span class="dec_italic">From a Swedish</span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">Homestead</span></p> +<p class="story_no">VII</p> +<p><span class="dec_italic">The</span> <span class="smcap">Peace</span> <span class="dec_italic">of</span> <span class="smcap">God</span></p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p> + +<p class="story_head"><span class="dec_italic">The</span> <span class="smcap">Peace</span> <span class="dec_italic">of</span> <span class="smcap">God</span></p> + +<p>Once upon a time there was an old farmhouse. +It was Christmas-eve, the sky was +heavy with snow, and the north wind was +biting. It was just that time in the afternoon +when everybody was busy finishing their work +before they went to the bath-house to have their +Christmas bath. There they had made such a +fire that the flames went right up the chimney, and +sparks and soot were whirled about by the wind, +and fell down on the snow-decked roofs of the +outhouses. And as the flames appeared above +the chimney of the bath-house, and rose like a +fiery pillar above the farm, everyone suddenly felt +that Christmas was at hand. The girl that was +scrubbing the entrance floor began to hum, although +the water was freezing in the bucket +beside her. The men in the wood-shed who were +cutting Christmas logs began to cut two at a time, +and swung their axes as merrily as if log-cutting +were a mere pastime.</p> + +<p>An old woman came out of the pantry with a +large pile of cakes in her arms. She went slowly +across the yard into the large red-painted dwelling-house, +and carried them carefully into the +best room, and put them down on the long seat. +Then she spread the tablecloth on the table, and +arranged the cakes in heaps, a large and a small +cake in each heap. She was a singularly ugly old +woman, with reddish hair, heavy drooping eye<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>lids, +and with a peculiar strained look about the +mouth and chin, as if the muscles were too short. +But being Christmas-eve, there was such a joy +and peace over her that one did not notice how +ugly she was.</p> + +<p>But there was one person on the farm who was +not happy, and that was the girl who was tying up +the whisks made of birch twigs that were to be +used for the baths. She sat near the fireplace, and +had a whole armful of fine birch twigs lying beside +her on the floor, but the withes with which she +was to bind the twigs would not keep knotted. +The best room had a narrow, low window, with +small panes, and through them the light from the +bath-house shone into the room, playing on the +floor and gilding the birch twigs. But the higher +the fire burned the more unhappy was the girl. +She knew that the whisks would fall to pieces as +soon as one touched them, and that she would +never hear the last of it until the next Christmas +fire was lighted.</p> + +<p>Just as she sat there bemoaning herself, the person +of whom she was most afraid came into the +room. It was her master, Ingmar Ingmarson. +He was sure to have been to the bath-house to see +if the stove was hot enough, and now he wanted +to see how the whisks were getting on. He was +old, was Ingmar Ingmarson, and he was fond of +everything old, and just because people were beginning +to leave off bathing in the bath-houses +and being whipped with birch twigs, he made a +great point of having it done on his farm, and +having it done properly.</p> + +<p>Ingmar Ingmarson wore an old coat of sheep's-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>skin, +skin trousers, and shoes smeared over with +pitch. He was dirty and unshaven, slow in all his +movements, and came in so softly that one might +very well have mistaken him for a beggar. His +features resembled his wife's features and his ugliness +resembled his wife's ugliness, for they were +relations, and from the time the girl first began to +notice anything she had learned to feel a wholesome +reverence for anybody who looked like that; +for it was a great thing to belong to the old family +of the Ingmars, which had always been the first +in the village. But the highest to which a man +could attain was to be Ingmar Ingmarson himself, +and be the richest, the wisest, and the mightiest in +the whole parish.</p> + +<p>Ingmar Ingmarson went up to the girl, took +one of the whisks, and swung it in the air. It immediately +fell to pieces; one of the twigs landed +on the Christmas table, another on the big four-poster.</p> + +<p>'I say, my girl,' said old Ingmar, laughing, 'do +you think one uses that kind of whisk when one +takes a bath at the Ingmar's, or are you very +tender, my girl?'</p> + +<p>When the girl saw that her master did not take +it more seriously than that, she took heart, and +answered that she could certainly make whisks +that would not go to pieces if she could get proper +withes to bind them with.</p> + +<p>'Then I suppose I must try to get some for +you, my girl,' said old Ingmar, for he was in a real +Christmas humour.</p> + +<p>He went out of the room, stepped over the girl +who was scouring the floor, and remained stand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>ing +on the doorstep, to see if there were anyone +about whom he could send to the birch-wood for +some withes. The farm hands were still busy cutting +Yule logs; his son came out of the barn with +the Christmas sheaf; his two sons-in-law were +putting the carts into the shed so that the yard +could be tidy for the Christmas festival. None of +them had time to leave their work.</p> + +<p>The old man then quietly made up his mind to +go himself. He went across the yard as if he were +going into the cowshed, looked cautiously round +to make sure no one noticed him, and stole along +outside the barn where there was a fairly good +road to the wood. The old man thought it was +better not to let anyone know where he was going, +for either his son or his sons-in-law might +then have begged him to remain at home, and +old people like to have their own way.</p> + +<p>He went down the road, across the fields, +through the small pine-forest into the birch-wood. +Here he left the road, and waded in the snow to +find some young birches.</p> + +<p>About the same time the wind at last accomplished +what it had been busy with the whole day: +it tore the snow from the clouds, and now came +rushing through the wood with a long train of +snow after it.</p> + +<p>Ingmar Ingmarson had just stooped down and +cut off a birch twig, when the wind came tearing +along laden with snow. Just as the old man was +getting up the wind blew a whole heap of snow in +his face. His eyes were full of snow, and the wind +whirled so violently around him that he was +obliged to turn round once or twice.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p> + +<p>The whole misfortune, no doubt, arose from +Ingmar Ingmarson being so old. In his young +days a snowstorm would certainly not have made +him dizzy. But now everything danced round +him as if he had joined in a Christmas polka, and +when he wanted to go home he went in the wrong +direction. He went straight into the large pine-forest +behind the birch-wood instead of going +towards the fields.</p> + +<p>It soon grew dark, and the storm continued to +howl and whirl around him amongst the young +trees on the outskirts of the forest. The old man +saw quite well that he was walking amongst fir-trees, +but he did not understand that this was +wrong, for there were also fir-trees on the other +side of the birch-wood nearest the farm. But by-and-by +he got so far into the forest that everything +was quiet and still—one could not feel the +storm, and the trees were high with thick stems—then +he found out that he had mistaken the road, +and would turn back.</p> + +<p>He became excited and upset at the thought +that he <em>could</em> lose his way, and as he stood there in +the midst of the pathless wood he was not sufficiently +clear-headed to know in which direction to +turn. He first went to the one side and then to the +other. At last it occurred to him to retrace his +way in his own footprints, but darkness came on, +and he could no longer follow them. The trees +around him grew higher and higher. Whichever +way he went, it was evident to him that he got +further and further into the forest.</p> + +<p>It was like witchcraft and sorcery, he thought, +that he should be running about the woods like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> +this all the evening and be too late for the bathing. +He turned his cap and rebound his garter, but his +head was no clearer. It had become quite dark, +and he began to think that he would have to remain +the whole night in the woods.</p> + +<p>He leant against a tree, stood still for a little, +and tried to collect his thoughts. He knew this +forest so well, and had walked in it so much, that +he ought to know every single tree. As a boy he +had gone there and tended sheep. He had gone +there and laid snares for the birds. In his young +days he had helped to fell trees there. He had +seen old trees cut down and new ones grow up. +At last he thought he had an idea where he was, +and fancied if he went that and that way he must +come upon the right road; but all the same, he +only went deeper and deeper into the forest.</p> + +<p>Once he felt smooth, firm ground under his +feet, and knew from that, that he had at last come +to some road. He tried now to follow this, for a +road, he thought, was bound to lead to some place +or other; but then the road ended at an open +space in the forest, and there the snowstorm had +it all its own way; there was neither road nor +path, only drifts and loose snow. Then the old +man's courage failed him; he felt like some poor +creature destined to die a lonely death in the +wilderness.</p> + +<p>He began to grow tired of dragging himself +through the snow, and time after time he sat down +on a stone to rest; but as soon as he sat down +he felt he was on the point of falling asleep, and +he knew he would be frozen to death if he did fall +asleep, therefore he tried to walk and walk; that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> +was the only thing that could save him. But all +at once he could not resist the inclination to sit +down. He thought if he could only rest, it did +not matter if it did cost him his life.</p> + +<p>It was so delightful to sit down that the thought +of death did not in the least frighten him. He felt +a kind of happiness at the thought that when he +was dead the account of his whole life would be +read aloud in the church. He thought of how +beautifully the old Dean had spoken about his +father, and how something equally beautiful +would be sure to be said about him. The Dean +would say that he had owned the oldest farm in +the district, and he would speak about the honour +it was to belong to such a distinguished family, +and then something would be said about responsibility. +Of course there was responsibility in the +matter; that he had always known. One must +endure to the very last when one was an Ingmar.</p> + +<p>The thought rushed through him that it was +not befitting for him to be found frozen to death +in the wild forest. He would not have that handed +down to posterity; and he stood up again and +began to walk. He had been sitting so long that +masses of snow fell from his fur coat when he +moved. But soon he sat down again and began +to dream.</p> + +<p>The thought of death now came quite gently to +him. He thought about the whole of the funeral +and all the honour they would show his dead +body. He could see the table laid for the great +funeral feast in the large room on the first floor, +the Dean and his wife in the seats of honour, the +Justice of the Peace, with the white frill spread<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> +over his narrow chest; the Major's wife in full +dress, with a low silk bodice, and her neck covered +with pearls and gold; he saw all the best +rooms draped in white—white sheets before the +windows, white over the furniture; branches of +fir strewn the whole way from the entrance-hall to +the church; house-cleaning and butchering, +brewing and baking for a fortnight before the +funeral; the corpse on a bier in the inmost room; +smoke from the newly-lighted fires in the rooms; +the whole house crowded with guests; singing +over the body whilst the lid of the coffin was being +screwed on; silver plates on the coffin; twenty +loads of wood burned in a fortnight; the whole +village busy cooking food to take to the funeral; +all the tall hats newly ironed; all the corn-brandy +from the autumn drunk up during the funeral +feast; all the roads crowded with people as at fair-time.</p> + +<p>Again the old man started up. He had heard +them sitting and talking about him during the +feast.</p> + +<p>'But how did he manage to go and get frozen +to death?' asked the Justice of the Peace. 'What +could he have been doing in the large forest?'</p> + +<p>And the Captain would say that it was probably +from Christmas ale and corn-brandy. And that +roused him again. The Ingmars had never been +drunkards. It should never be said of him that +he was muddled in his last moments. And he began +again to walk and walk; but he was so tired +that he could scarcely stand on his legs. It was +quite clear to him now that he had got far into +the forest, for there were no paths anywhere, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> +many large rocks, of which he knew there were +none lower down. His foot caught between two +stones, so that he had difficulty in getting it out, +and he stood and moaned. He was quite done +for.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he fell over a heap of fagots. He fell +softly on to the snow and branches, so he was not +hurt, but he did not take the trouble to get up +again. He had no other desire in the world than +to sleep. He pushed the fagots to one side and +crept under them as if they were a rug; but when +he pushed himself under the branches he felt that +underneath there was something warm and soft. +This must be a bear, he thought.</p> + +<p>He felt the animal move, and heard it sniff; but +he lay still. The bear might eat him if it liked, he +thought. He had not strength enough to move a +single step to get out of its way.</p> + +<p>But it seemed as if the bear did not want to +harm anyone who sought its protection on such a +night as this. It moved a little further into its lair, +as if to make room for its visitor, and directly +afterwards it slept again with even, snorting +breath.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>In the meantime there was but scanty Christmas +joy in the old farm of the Ingmars. The +whole of Christmas-eve they were looking for +Ingmar Ingmarson. First they went all over the +dwelling-house and all the outhouses. They +searched high and low, from loft to cellar. Then +they went to the neighbouring farms and inquired +for Ingmar Ingmarson.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> + +<p>As they did not find him, his sons and his sons-in-law +went into the fields and roads. They used +the torches which should have lighted the way for +people going to early service on Christmas morning +in the search for him. The terrible snowstorm +had hidden all traces, and the howling of the wind +drowned the sound of their voices when they +called and shouted. They were out and about +until long after midnight, but then they saw that +it was useless to continue the search, and that they +must wait until daylight to find the old man.</p> + +<p>At the first pale streak of dawn everybody was +up at Ingmar's farm, and the men stood about the +yard ready to set out for the wood. But before +they started the old housewife came and called +them into the best room. She told them to sit +down on the long benches; she herself sat down +by the Christmas table with the Bible in front of +her and began to read. She tried her best to find +something suitable for the occasion, and chose +the story of the man who was travelling from +Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves.</p> + +<p>She read slowly and monotonously about the +unfortunate man who was succoured by the good +Samaritan. Her sons and sons-in-law, her +daughters and daughters-in-law, sat around her +on the benches. They all resembled her and each +other, big and clumsy, with plain, old-fashioned +faces, for they all belonged to the old race of the +Ingmars. They had all reddish hair, freckled +skin, and light-blue eyes with white eyelashes. +They might be different enough from each other +in some ways, but they had all a stern look about +the mouth, dull eyes, and heavy movements, as if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> +everything were a trouble to them. But one could +see that they all, every one of them, belonged to +the first people in the neighbourhood, and that +they knew themselves to be better than other +people.</p> + +<p>All the sons and daughters of the house of Ingmar +sighed deeply during the reading of the Bible. +They wondered if some good Samaritan had +found the master of the house and taken care of +him, for all the Ingmars felt as if they had lost part +of their own soul when a misfortune happened to +anyone belonging to the family.</p> + +<p>The old woman read and read, and came to the +question: 'Who was neighbour unto him that fell +amongst thieves?' But before she had read the +answer the door opened and old Ingmar came +into the room.</p> + +<p>'Mother, here is father,' said one of the daughters; +and the answer, that the man's neighbour +was he who had shown mercy unto him, was +never read.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Later in the day the housewife sat again in the +same place, and read her Bible. She was alone; +the women had gone to church, and the men were +bear-hunting in the forest. As soon as Ingmar +Ingmarson had eaten and drunk, he took his sons +with him and went out to the forest; for it is every +man's duty to kill a bear wherever and whenever +he comes across one. It does not do to spare a +bear, for sooner or later it will get a taste for flesh, +and then it will spare neither man nor beast.</p> + +<p>But after they were gone a great feeling of fear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> +came over the old housewife, and she began to +read her Bible. She read the lesson for the day, +which was also the text for the Pastor's sermon; +but she did not get further than this: 'Peace on +earth, goodwill towards men.' She remained sitting +and staring at these words with her dull eyes, +now and again sighing deeply. She did not read +any further, but she repeated time after time in +her slow, drawling voice, 'Peace on earth, goodwill +towards men.'</p> + +<p>The eldest son came into the room just as she +was going to repeat the words afresh.</p> + +<p>'Mother!' he said softly.</p> + +<p>She heard him, but did not take her eyes from +the book whilst she asked:</p> + +<p>'Are you not with the others in the forest?'</p> + +<p>'Yes,' said he, still more softly, 'I have been +there.'</p> + +<p>'Come to the table,' she said, 'so that I can see +you.'</p> + +<p>He came nearer, but when she looked at him +she saw that he was trembling. He had to press +his hands hard against the edge of the table in +order to keep them still.</p> + +<p>'Have you got the bear?' she asked again.</p> + +<p>He could not answer; he only shook his head.</p> + +<p>The old woman got up and did what she had +not done since her son was a child. She went up +to him, laid her hand on his arm, and drew him +to the bench. She sat down beside him and took +his hand in hers.</p> + +<p>'Tell me now what has happened, my boy.'</p> + +<p>The young man recognised the caress which +had comforted him in bygone days when he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> +been in trouble and unhappy, and he was so overcome +that he began to weep.</p> + +<p>'I suppose it is something about father?' she +said.</p> + +<p>'It is worse than that,' the son sobbed. +'Worse than that?'</p> + +<p>The young man cried more and more violently; +he did not know how to control his voice. At last +he lifted his rough hand, with the broad fingers, +and pointed to what she had just read: 'Peace +on earth. . . .'</p> + +<p>'Is it anything about that?' she asked.</p> + +<p>'Yes,' he answered.</p> + +<p>'Is it anything about the peace of Christmas?'</p> + +<p>'Yes.'</p> + +<p>'You wished to do an evil deed this morning?'</p> + +<p>'Yes.'</p> + +<p>'And God has punished us?'</p> + +<p>'God has punished us.'</p> + +<p>So at last she was told how it had happened. +They had with some trouble found the lair of the +bear, and when they had got near enough to see +the heap of fagots, they stopped in order to load +their guns. But before they were ready the bear +rushed out of its lair straight against them. It +went neither to the right nor to the left, but +straight for old Ingmar Ingmarson, and struck +him a blow on the top of the head that felled him +to the ground as if he had been struck by lightning. +It did not attack any of the others, but +rushed past them into the forest.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>In the afternoon Ingmar Ingmarson's wife and +son drove to the Dean's house to announce his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> +death. The son was spokesman, and the old +housewife sat and listened with a face as immovable +as a stone figure.</p> + +<p>The Dean sat in his easy-chair near his writing-table. +He had entered the death in the register. +He had done it rather slowly; he wanted time to +consider what he should say to the widow and the +son, for this was, indeed, an unusual case. The +son had frankly told him how it had all happened, +but the Dean was anxious to know how they +themselves looked at it. They were peculiar people, +the Ingmars.</p> + +<p>When the Dean had closed the book, the son +said:</p> + +<p>'We wanted to tell you, sir, that we do not wish +any account of father's life to be read in church.'</p> + +<p>The Dean pushed his spectacles over his forehead +and looked searchingly at the old woman. +She sat just as immovable as before. She only +crumpled the handkerchief a little which she +held in her hand.</p> + +<p>'We wish to have him buried on a week day,' +continued the son.</p> + +<p>'Indeed!' said the Dean.</p> + +<p>He could hardly believe his own ears. Old +Ingmar Ingmarson to be buried without anyone +taking any notice of it! The congregation not to +stand on railings and mounds in order to see the +display when he was being carried to the grave!</p> + +<p>'There will not be any funeral feast. We have +let the neighbours know that they need not think +of preparing anything for the funeral.'</p> + +<p>'Indeed, indeed!' said the Dean again.</p> + +<p>He could think of nothing else to say. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> +knew quite well what it meant for such people to +forego the funeral feast. He had seen both widows +and fatherless comforted by giving a splendid +funeral feast.</p> + +<p>'There will be no funeral procession, only I and +my brothers.'</p> + +<p>The Dean looked almost appealingly at the old +woman. Could she really be a party to all this? +He asked himself if it could be her wishes to which +the son had given expression. She was sitting +there and allowing herself to be robbed of what +must be dearer to her than gold and silver.</p> + +<p>'We will not have the bells rung, or any silver +plates on the coffin. Mother and I wish it to be +done in this way, but we tell you all this, sir, in +order to hear, sir, if you think we are wronging +father.'</p> + +<p>Now the old woman spoke:</p> + +<p>'We should like to hear if your Reverence +thinks we are doing father a wrong.'</p> + +<p>The Dean remained silent, and the old woman +continued, more eagerly:</p> + +<p>'I must tell your Reverence that if my husband +had sinned against the King or the authorities, or +if I had been obliged to cut him down from the +gallows, he should all the same have had an honourable +funeral, as his father before him, for the +Ingmars are not afraid of anyone, and they need +not go out of their way for anybody. But at +Christmas God has made peace between man and +beast, and the poor beast kept God's commandment, +whilst we broke it, and therefore we now +suffer God's punishment; and it is not becoming +for us to show any ostentatious display.'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Dean rose and went up to the old woman.</p> + +<p>'What you say is right,' he said, 'and you shall +follow the dictates of your own conscience.' And +involuntarily he added, perhaps most to himself: +'The Ingmars are a grand family.'</p> + +<p>The old woman straightened herself a little at +these words. At that moment the Dean saw in +her the symbol of her whole race. He understood +what it was that had made these heavy, silent people, +century after century, the leaders of the whole +parish.</p> + +<p>'It behooves the Ingmars to set the people a +good example,' she said. 'It behooves us to show +that we humble ourselves before God.'</p> +<hr class="chap" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> + +<div class="story_title_page"> +<h2 title="Story from Halstanäs">VIII <a name="Story" id="Story"><span class="dec_italic">A</span> <span class="smcap">Story</span> <span class="dec_italic">from</span> <span class="smcap">Halstanäs</span></a></h2> +<p><span class="dec_italic">From a Swedish</span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">Homestead</span></p> +<p class="story_no">VIII</p> +<p><span class="dec_italic">A</span> <span class="smcap">Story</span> <span class="dec_italic">from</span> <span class="smcap">Halstanäs</span></p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p> + +<p class="story_head"><span class="dec_italic">A</span> <span class="smcap">Story</span> <span class="dec_italic">from</span> <span class="smcap">Halstanäs</span></p> + +<p>In olden times there stood by the roadside an +old country-house called Halstanäs. It comprised +a long row of red-painted houses, +which were of low structure, and right behind +them lay the forest. Close to the dwelling-house +was a large wild cherry-tree, which showered its +black fruit over the red-tiled roof. A bell under a +small belfry hung over the gable of the stables.</p> + +<p>Just outside the kitchen-door was a dovecote, +with a neat little trelliswork outside the holes. +From the attic a cage for squirrels was hanging; +it consisted of two small green houses and a +large wheel, and in front of a big hedge of lilacs +stood a long row of beehives covered with bark.</p> + +<p>There was a pond belonging to the farm, full of +fat carp and slim water-snakes; there was also a +kennel at the entrance; there were white gates at +the end of the avenue, and at the garden walks, +and in every place where they could possibly have +a gate. There were big lofts with dark lumber-rooms, +where old-fashioned uniforms and ladies' +head-gear a hundred years old were stored away; +there were large chests full of silk gowns and +bridal finery; there were old pianos and violins, +guitars and bassoons. In bureaus and cabinets +were manuscript songs and old yellow letters; on +the walls of the entrance-hall hung guns, pistols +and hunting-bags; on the floor were rugs, in +which patches of old silken gowns were woven<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> +together with pieces of threadbare cotton curtains. +There was a large porch, where the deadly nightshade +summer after summer grew up a thin +trelliswork; there were large, yellow front-doors, +which were fastened with bolts and catches; the +hall was strewn with sprigs of juniper, and the +windows had small panes and heavy wooden +shutters.</p> + +<p>One summer old Colonel Beerencreutz came on +a visit to this house. It is supposed to have been +the very year after he left Ekeby. At that time he +had taken rooms at a farm at Svartsjö, and it was +only on rare occasions that he went visiting. He +still had his horse and gig, but he scarcely ever +used them. He said that he had grown old in +earnest now, and that home was the best place for +old people.</p> + +<p>Beerencreutz was also loath to leave the work +he had in hand. He was weaving rugs for his two +rooms—large, many-coloured rugs in a rich and +strangely-thought-out pattern. It took him an +endless time, because he had his own way of weaving, +for he used no loom, but stretched his wool +from the one wall to the other right across the one +room. He did this in order to see the whole rug +at one time; but to cross the woof and afterwards +bring the threads together to a firm web was no +easy matter. And then there was the pattern, +which he himself thought out, and the colours +which should match. This took the Colonel more +time than anyone would have imagined; for whilst +Beerencreutz was busy getting the pattern right, +and whilst he was working with warp and woof, he +often sat and thought of God. Our Lord, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> +thought, was likewise sitting at a loom, still +larger, and with an even more peculiar pattern to +weave. And he knew that there must be both +light and dark shades in that weaving. But Beerencreutz +would at times sit and think so long +about this, until he fancied he saw before him his +own life and the life of the people whom he had +known, and with whom he had lived, forming a +small portion of God's great weaving; and he +seemed to see that piece so distinctly that he could +discern both outlines and colouring. And if one +asked Beerencreutz what the pattern in his work +really meant, he would be obliged to confess that +it was the life of himself and his friends which he +wove into the rug as a faint imitation of what he +thought he had seen represented on God's loom.</p> + +<p>The Colonel, however, was accustomed to pay +a little visit to some old friends every year just +after midsummer. He had always liked best to +travel through the country when the fields were +still scented with clover, and blue and yellow flowers +grew along the roadside in two long straight +rows.</p> + +<p>This year the Colonel had hardly got to the +great highroad before he met his old friend Ensign +von Örneclou. And the Ensign, who was +travelling about all the year round, and who knew +all the country houses in Värmland, gave him +some good advice.</p> + +<p>'Go to Halstanäs and call upon Ensign Vestblad,' +he said to the Colonel. 'I can only tell you, +old man, I don't know a house in the whole country +where one fares better.'</p> + +<p>'What Vestblad are you speaking about?'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> +asked the Colonel. 'I suppose you don't mean +the old Ensign whom the Major's wife showed +the door?'</p> + +<p>'The very man,' said the Ensign. 'But Vestblad +is not the same man he was. He has married +a fine lady—a real stunning woman, Colonel—who +has made a man of him. It was a wonderful +piece of good luck for Vestblad that such a splendid +girl should take a fancy to him. She was not +exactly young any longer; but no more was he. +You should go to Halstanäs, Colonel, and see +what wonders love can work.'</p> + +<p>And the Colonel went to Halstanäs to see if +Örneclou spoke the truth. He had, as a matter +of fact, now and then wondered what had become +of Vestblad; in his young days he had kicked so +recklessly over the traces that even the Major's +wife at Ekeby could not put up with him. She +had not been able to keep him at Ekeby more than +a couple of years before she was obliged to turn +him out. Vestblad had become such a heavy +drinker that a Cavalier could hardly associate with +him. And now Örneclou declared that he owned +a country house, and had made an excellent +match.</p> + +<p>The Colonel consequently went to Halstanäs, +and saw at the first glance that it was a real old +country-seat. He had only to look at the avenue +of birches with all the names cut on the fine old +trees. Such birches he had only seen at good old +country-houses. The Colonel drove slowly up to +the house, and every moment his pleasure increased. +He saw lime hedges of the proper kind, +so close that one could walk on the top of them,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> +and there were a couple of terraces with stone +steps so old that they were half buried in the +ground. When the Colonel drove past the pond, +he saw indistinctly the dark carp in the yellowish +water. The pigeons flew up from the road flapping +their wings; the squirrel stopped its wheel; +the watch-dog lay with its head on its paws, wagging +its tail, and at the same time faintly growling. +Close to the porch the Colonel saw an ant-hill, +where the ants, unmolested, went to and fro—to +and fro. He looked at the flower-beds inside +the grass border. There they grew, all the old +flowers: narcissus and pyrola, sempervivum and +marigold; and on the bank grew small white +daisies, which had been there so long that they +now sowed themselves like weeds. Beerencreutz +again said to himself that this was indeed a real +old country-house, where both plants and animals +and human beings throve as well as could be.</p> + +<p>When at last he drove up to the front-door he +had as good a reception as he could wish for, and +as soon as he had brushed the dust off him he was +taken to the dining-room, and he was offered +plenty of good old-fashioned food—the same old +cakes for dessert that his mother used to give him +when he came home from school; and any so +good he had never tasted elsewhere.</p> + +<p>Beerencreutz looked with surprise at Ensign +Vestblad. He went about quiet and content, with +a long pipe in his mouth and a skull-cap on his +head. He wore an old morning-coat, which he +had difficulty in getting out of when it was time +to dress for dinner. That was the only sign of the +Bohemian left, as far as Beerencreutz could see.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> +He went about and looked after his men, calculated +their wages, saw how things were getting on +in the fields and meadows, gathered a rose for his +wife when he went through the garden, and he indulged +no longer in either swearing or spitting. +But what astonished the Colonel most of all was +the discovery that old Ensign Vestblad kept his +books. He took the Colonel into his office and +showed him large books with red backs. And +those he kept himself. He had lined them with +red ink and black ink, written the headings with +large letters, and put down everything, even to a +stamp.</p> + +<p>But Ensign Vestblad's wife, who was a born +lady, called Beerencreutz cousin, and they soon +found out the relationship between them; and +they talked all their relatives over. At last Beerencreutz +became so intimate with Mrs. Vestblad +that he consulted her about the rug he was weaving.</p> + +<p>It was a matter of course that the Colonel +should stay the night. He was taken to the best +spare room to the right of the hall and close to his +host's bedroom, and his bed was a large four-poster, +with heaps of eiderdowns.</p> + +<p>The Colonel fell asleep as soon as he got into +bed, but awoke later on in the night. He immediately +got out of bed and went and opened the +window-shutters. He had a view over the garden, +and in the light summer night he could see all the +gnarled old apple-trees, with their worm-eaten +leaves, and with numerous props under the decayed +branches. He saw the large wild apple-tree, +which in the autumn would give barrels of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> +uneatable fruit; he saw the strawberries, which +had just begun to ripen under their profusion of +green leaves.</p> + +<p>The Colonel stood and looked at it as if he +could not afford to waste his time in sleeping. +Outside his window at the peasant farm where he +lived all he could see was a stony hill and a couple +of juniper-bushes; and it was natural that a man +like Beerencreutz should feel more at home +amongst well-trimmed hedges and roses in +bloom.</p> + +<p>When in the quiet stillness of the night one +looks out upon a garden, one often has a feeling +that it is not real and natural. It can be so still +that one can almost fancy one's self in the theatre; +one imagines that the trees are painted and the +roses made of paper. And it was something like +this the Colonel felt as he stood there. 'It cannot +be possible,' he thought, 'that all this is real. +It can only be a dream.' But then a few rose-leaves +fell softly to the ground from the big rose-tree +just outside his window, and then he realized +that everything was genuine. Everything was +real and genuine; both day and night the same +peace and contentment everywhere.</p> + +<p>When he went and laid down again he left the +window-shutters open. He lay in the high bed +and looked time after time at the rose-tree; it is +impossible to describe his pleasure in looking at +it. He thought what a strange thing it was that +such a man as Vestblad should have this flower of +Paradise outside his window.</p> + +<p>The more the Colonel thought of Vestblad the +more surprised he became that such a foal should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> +end his days in such a stable. He was not good +for much at the time he was turned away from +Ekeby. Who would have thought he would have +become a staid and well-to-do man?</p> + +<p>The Colonel lay and laughed to himself, and +wondered whether Vestblad still remembered +how he used to amuse himself in the olden days +when he was living at Ekeby. On dark and +stormy nights he used to rub himself over with +phosphorus, mount a black horse, and ride over +the hills to the ironworks, where the smiths and +the workmen lived; and if anyone happened to +look out of his window and saw a horseman shining +with a bluish-white light tearing past, he +hastened to bar and bolt everywhere, saying it +was best to say one's prayers twice that night, +for the devil was abroad.</p> + +<p>Oh yes, to frighten simple folks by such tricks +was a favourite amusement in olden days; but +Vestblad had carried his jokes further than anyone +else the Colonel knew of.</p> + +<p>An old woman on the parish had died at Viksta, +which belonged to Ekeby. Vestblad happened to +hear about this. He also heard that the corpse +had been taken from the house and placed in a +barn. At night Vestblad put on his fiery array, +mounted his black horse, and rode to the farmstead; +and people there who were about had seen +a fiery horseman ride up to the barn, where the +corpse lay, ride three times round it and disappear +through the door. They had also seen the horseman +come out again, ride three times round the +house and then disappear. But in the morning, +when they went into the barn to see the corpse, it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> +was gone, and they thought the devil had been +there and carried her off. This supposition had +been enough for them. But a couple of weeks +later they found the body, which had been thrown +on to a hay-loft in the barn, and then there was a +great outcry. They found out who the fiery +horseman was, and the peasants were on the +watch to give Vestblad a good hiding. But the +Major's wife would not have him at her table or +in her house any longer; she packed his knapsack +and asked him to betake himself elsewhere. And +Vestblad went out into the world and made his +fortune.</p> + +<p>A strange feeling of uneasiness came over the +Colonel as he lay in bed. He felt as if something +were going to happen. He had hardly realized +before what an ugly story it was. He had no +doubt even laughed at it at the time. They had +not been in the habit of taking much notice of +what happened to a poor old pauper in those +days; but, great God! how furious one would +have been if anybody had done that to one's own +mother!</p> + +<p>A suffocating feeling came over the Colonel; +he breathed heavily. The thought of what Vestblad +had done appeared so vile and hateful to him, +it weighed him down like a nightmare. He was +half afraid of seeing the dead woman, of seeing +her appear from behind the bed. He felt as if she +must be quite near. And from the four corners of +the room the Colonel heard terrible words: 'God +will not forgive it! God has never forgotten it!'</p> + +<p>The Colonel closed his eyes, but then he suddenly +saw before him God's great loom, where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> +the web was woven with the fates of men; and he +thought he saw Ensign Vestblad's square, and it +was dark on three sides; and he, who understood +something about weaving and patterns, knew that +the fourth side would also have to be covered with +the dark shade. It could not be done in any other +way, otherwise there would be a mistake in the +weaving.</p> + +<p>A cold sweat broke out on his forehead; it +seemed to him that he looked upon what was the +hardest and the most immovable in all the world. +He saw how the fate which a man has worked out +in his past life will pursue him to the end. And to +think there were actually people who thought they +could escape it!</p> + +<p>Escape it! escape! All was noted and written +down; the one colour and the one figure necessitated +the other, and everything came about as it +was bound to come about.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Colonel Beerencreutz sat up in bed; +he would look at the flowers and the roses, and +think that perhaps our Lord could forget after +all. But at the moment Beerencreutz sat up in +bed the bedroom door opened, and one of the +farm-labourers—a stranger to him—put his head +in and nodded to the Colonel.</p> + +<p>It was now so light that the Colonel saw the +man quite distinctly. It was the most hideous +face he had ever seen. He had small gray eyes +like a pig, a flat nose, and a thin, bristly beard. +One could not say that the man looked like an +animal, for animals have nearly always good +faces, but still, he had something of the animal +about him. His lower jaw projected, his neck was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> +thick, and his forehead was quite hidden by his +rough, unkempt hair.</p> + +<p>He nodded three times to the Colonel, and +every time his mouth opened with a broad grin; +and he put out his hand, red with blood, and +showed it triumphantly. Up to this moment the +Colonel had sat up in bed as if paralyzed, but now +he jumped up and was at the door in two steps. +But when he reached the door, the fellow was +gone and the door closed.</p> + +<p>The Colonel was just on the point of raising the +alarm, when it struck him that the door must be +fastened on the inside, on his side, as he had himself +locked it the night before; and on examining +it, he found that it had not been unlocked.</p> + +<p>The Colonel felt almost ashamed to think that +in his old age he had begun to see ghosts. He +went straight back to bed again.</p> + +<p>When the morning came, and he had breakfasted, +the Colonel felt still more ashamed. He +had excited himself to such an extent that he had +trembled all over and perspired from fear. He +said not a word about it. But later on in the +day he and Vestblad went over the estate. As +they passed a labourer who was cutting sods on a +bank Beerencreutz recognised him again. It was +the man he had seen in the night. He recognised +feature for feature.</p> + +<p>'I would not keep that man a day longer in my +service, my friend,' said Beerencreutz, when they +had walked a short distance. And he told Vestblad +what he had seen in the night. 'I tell you +this simply to warn you, in order that you may +dismiss the man.'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Vestblad would not; he was just the man +he would not dismiss. And when Beerencreutz +pressed him more and more, he at last confessed +that he would not do anything to the man, because +he was the son of an old pauper woman who had +died at Viksta close to Ekeby.</p> + +<p>'You no doubt remember the story?' he added.</p> + +<p>'If that's the case, I would rather go to the end +of the world than live another day with that man +about the place,' said Beerencreutz. An hour +after he left, and was almost angry that his warning +was not heeded. 'Some misfortune will happen +before I come here again,' said the Colonel to +Vestblad, as he took leave.</p> + +<p>Next year, at the same time, the Colonel was +preparing for another visit to Halstanäs. But before +he got so far, he heard some sad news about +his friends. As the clock struck one, a year after +the very night he had slept there, Ensign Vestblad +and his wife had been murdered in their bedroom +by one of their labourers—a man with a neck like +a bull, a flat nose, and eyes like a pig.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p> + +<div class="story_title_page"> +<h2 title="Inscription on the Grave">IX. <a name="Inscription" id="Inscription"><span class="dec_italic">The</span> <span class="smcap">Inscription</span> <span class="dec_italic">on the</span> <span class="smcap">Grave</span></a></h2> +<p><span class="dec_italic">From a Swedish</span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">Homestead</span></p> +<p class="story_no">IX</p> +<p><span class="dec_italic">The</span> <span class="smcap">Inscription</span> <span class="dec_italic">on the</span> <span class="smcap">Grave</span></p> +</div> +<hr class="chap" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span></p> + +<p class="story_head"><span class="dec_italic">The</span> <span class="smcap">Inscription</span> <span class="dec_italic">on the</span> <span class="smcap">Grave</span></p> + +<p>Nowadays no one ever takes any notice +of the little cross standing in the corner +of Svartsjö Churchyard. People on their +way to and from church go past it without giving +it a glance. This is not so very wonderful, because +it is so low and small that clover and +bluebells grow right up to the arms of the cross, +and timothy-grass to the very top of it. Neither +does anyone think of reading the inscription +which stands on the cross. The white letters are +almost entirely washed out by the rain, and it +never occurs to anyone to try and decipher what +is still left, and try to make it out. But so it has +not always been. The little cross in its time has +been the cause of much surprise and curiosity. +There was a time when not a person put his foot +inside Svartsjö Churchyard without going up to +look at it. And when one of the old people from +those days now happens to see it, a whole story +comes back to him of people and events that have +been long forgotten. He sees before him the +whole of Svartsjö parish in the lethargic sleep of +winter, covered by even white snow, quite a yard +deep, so that it is impossible to discern road or +pathway, or to know where one is going. It is +almost as necessary to have a compass here as +at sea. There is no difference between sea and +shore. The roughest ground is as even as the +field which in the autumn yielded such a harvest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> +of oats. The charcoal-burner living near the +great bogs might imagine himself possessed of as +much cultivated land as the richest peasant.</p> + +<p>The roads have left their secure course between +the gray fences, and are running at random +across the meadows and along the river. Even +on one's own farm one may lose one's way, and +suddenly discover that on one's way to the well +one has walked over the spirea-hedge and round +the little rose-bed.</p> + +<p>But nowhere is it so impossible to find one's +way as in the churchyard. In the first place, the +stone wall which separates it from the pastor's +field is entirely buried under the snow, so with +that it is all one; and secondly, the churchyard +itself is only a simple large, white plain, where +not even the smallest unevenness in the snow-cover +betrays the many small mounds and tufts +of the garden of the dead.</p> + +<p>On most of the graves are iron crosses, from +which hang small, thin hearts of tin, which the +summer wind sets in motion. These little hearts +are now all hidden under the snow, and cannot +tinkle their sad songs of sorrow and longing.</p> + +<p>People who work in the towns have brought +back with them to their dead wreaths with flowers +of beads and leaves of painted tin; and these +wreaths are so highly treasured that they are kept +in small glass cases on the graves. But now all +this is hidden and buried under the snow, and the +grave that possesses such an ornament is in no +way more remarkable than any of the other +graves.</p> + +<p>One or two lilac bushes raise their heads above<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> +the snow-cover, but their little stiff branches look +so alike, that it is impossible to tell one from the +other, and they are of no use whatever to anyone +trying to find his way in the churchyard. Old +women who are in the habit of going on Sundays +to visit their graves can only get a little way down +the main walk on account of the snow. There +they stand, trying to make out where their own +grave lies—is it near that bush, or that?—and +they begin to long for the snow to melt. It is +as if the one for whom they are sorrowing has +gone so far away from them, now that they cannot +see the spot where he lies.</p> + +<p>There are also a few large gravestones and +crosses that are higher than the snow, but they +are not many; and as these are also covered with +snow, they cannot be distinguished either.</p> + +<p>There is only one pathway kept clear in the +churchyard. It is the one leading from the entrance +to the small mortuary. When anyone is +to be buried the coffin is carried into the mortuary, +and there the pastor reads the service and +casts the earth upon the coffin. It is impossible +to place the coffin in the ground as long as such +a winter lasts. It must remain standing in the +mortuary until God sees fit to thaw the earth, +and the ground can be digged and made ready.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>Just when the winter was at its hardest, and the +churchyard quite inaccessible, a child died at +Sander's, the ironmaster at Lerum ironworks.</p> + +<p>The ironworks at Lerum were large, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> +Sander, the ironmaster, was a great man in that +part of the country. He had recently had a family +grave made in the churchyard—a splendid grave, +the position of which one could not easily forget, +although the snow had laid its <span class="correction" title="Transcriber's Note: Original has thinck">thick</span> carpet over +it. It was surrounded by heavy, hewn stones, +with a massive chain between them, and in the +middle of the grave stood a huge granite block, +with their name inscribed upon it. There was +only the one word 'Sander,' engraved in large +letters, but it could be seen over the whole churchyard. +But now that the child was dead, and was +to be buried, the ironmaster said to his wife:</p> + +<p>'I will not allow this child to lie in my grave.'</p> + +<p>One can picture them both at that moment. It +was in their dining-room at Lerum. The ironmaster +was sitting at the breakfast-table alone, +as was his wont. His wife, Ebba Sander, was sitting +in a rocking-chair at the window, from where +she had a wide view of the lake, with its small +islands covered with birches.</p> + +<p>She had been weeping, but when her husband +said this, her eyes became immediately dry. Her +little figure seemed to shrink from fear, and she +began to tremble.</p> + +<p>'What do you say? What are you saying?' +she asked, and her voice sounded as if she were +shivering from cold.</p> + +<p>'I object to it,' he said. 'My father and my +mother lie there, and the name "Sander" stands +on the stone. I will not allow that child to lie +there.'</p> + +<p>'Oh,' she said, still trembling, 'is that what +you have been thinking about? I always did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> +think that some day you would have your revenge.'</p> + +<p>He threw down his serviette, rose from the +table, and stood before her, broad and big. It +was not his intention to assert his will with many +words, but she could see, as he stood there, that +nothing could make him change his mind. Stern, +immovable, obstinate he was from top to toe.</p> + +<p>'I will not revenge myself,' he said, 'only I +will not have it.'</p> + +<p>'You speak as if it were only a question of +removing him from one bed to the other,' she +said. 'He is dead. It does not matter to him +where he lies, I suppose; but for me it is ruin, +you know.'</p> + +<p>'I have also thought of that,' he said, 'but I +cannot.'</p> + +<p>When two people have been married, and have +lived together for some years, they do not require +many words to understand one another. She +knew it would be quite useless to try and move +him.</p> + +<p>'Why did you forgive me, then?' she said, +wringing her hands. 'Why did you let me stay +with you as your wife and promise to forgive +me?'</p> + +<p>He knew that he would not do her any harm. +It was not his fault that he had now reached the +limit of his forbearance.</p> + +<p>'Say to people what you like,' he said; 'I +shall not say anything. You can say, if you like, +that there is water in the vault, or that there is +only room for father and mother and you and +me.'</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p> + +<p>'And you imagine that they will believe that!'</p> + +<p>'Well, you must manage that as best you can.'</p> + +<p>He was not angry; she knew that he was not. +It was only as he said: on that point he could not +give way.</p> + +<p>She went further into the room, put her hands +at the back of her head, and sat gazing out of the +window without saying anything. The terrible +thing is that so much happens to one in life over +which one has no control, and, above all, that +something may spring up within one's self over +which one is entirely powerless. Some years ago, +when she was already a staid married woman, +love came to her; and what a love—so violent that +it was quite impossible for her to resist.</p> + +<p>Was not the feeling which now mastered her +husband—was not that, after all, a desire to be +revenged?</p> + +<p>He had never been angry with her. He forgave +her at once when she came and confessed +her sin.</p> + +<p>'You have been out of your senses,' he said, +and allowed her to remain with him at Lerum as +if nothing had happened.</p> + +<p>But although it is easy enough to say one forgives, +it may be hard to do so, especially for one +whose mind is slow and heavy, who ponders over +but never forgets or gives vent to his feelings. +Whatever he may say, and however much he may +have made up his mind, something is always left +within his heart which gnaws and longs to be satisfied +with someone else's suffering. She had +always had a strange feeling that it would have +been better for her if he had been so enraged that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> +he had struck her. Then, perhaps, things could +have come right between them. All these years +he had been morose and irritable, and she had become +frightened. She was like a horse between +the traces. She knew that behind her was one +who held a whip over her, even if he did not use +it; and now he had used it. He had not been +able to refrain any longer. And now it was all +over with her.</p> + +<p>Those who were about her said they had never +seen such sorrow as hers. She seemed to be petrified. +The whole time before the funeral it was +as if there were no real life in her. One could not +tell if she heard what was said to her, if she had +any idea who was speaking to her. She did not +eat; it was as if she felt no hunger. She went +out in the bitterest cold; she did not feel it. But +it was not grief that petrified her—it was fear.</p> + +<p>It never struck her for a moment to stay at +home on the day of the funeral. She must go to +the churchyard, she must walk in the funeral procession—must +go there, feeling that all who were +present expected that the body would be laid in +the family vault of the Sanders. She thought +she would sink into the ground at all the surprise +and scorn which would rise up against her when +the grave-digger, who headed the procession, led +the way to an out-of-the-way grave. An outburst +of astonishment would be heard from everybody, +although it was a funeral procession: +'Why is the child not going to be buried in the +Sanders' family vault?' Thoughts would go back +to the vague rumours which were once circulated +about her. 'There must have been something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> +in them, after all,' people will whisper to each +other. And before the mourners left the churchyard +she would be condemned and lost. The only +thing for her to do was to be present herself. She +would go there with a quiet face, as if everything +was as it ought to be. Then, perhaps, they might +believe what she said to explain the matter. . . .</p> + +<p>Her husband went with her to the church; he +had looked after everything, invited people, ordered +the coffin, and arranged who should be the +bearers. He was kind and good now that he had +got his own way.</p> + +<p>It was on a Sunday. The service was over, and +the mourners had assembled outside the porch, +where the coffin was standing. The bearers had +placed the white bands over their shoulders; all +people of any position had joined in the procession, +as did also many of the congregation. She +had a feeling as if they had all gathered together +in order to accompany a criminal to the scaffold.</p> + +<p>How they would all look at her when they came +back from the funeral! She was there to prepare +them for what was to happen, but she had not +been able to utter a single word. She felt quite +unable to speak quietly and sensibly. There was +only one thing she wanted: to scream and moan +so violently and loudly that it could be heard all +over the churchyard; and she had to bite her lips +so as not to cry out.</p> + +<p>The bells commenced to ring in the tower, and +the procession began to move. Now all these +people would find it out without the slightest +preparation. Oh, why had she not spoken in +time? She had to restrain herself to the utmost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> +from shouting out and telling them that they must +not go to the grave with the dead child. Those +who are dead are dead and gone. Why should +her whole life be spoiled for the sake of this dead +child? They could put him in the earth, where +they liked, only not in the churchyard. She had +a confused idea that she would frighten them +away from the churchyard; it was risky to go +there; it was plague-smitten; there were marks +of a wolf in the snow; she would frighten them +as one frightens children.</p> + +<p>She did not know where they had digged the +child's grave. She would know soon enough, she +thought; and when the procession entered the +churchyard, she glanced around the snow-covered +ground to see where there was a new +grave; but she saw neither path nor grave—nothing +but the white snow. And the procession +advanced towards the small mortuary. As many +as possibly could pressed into the building and +saw the earth cast on to the coffin. There was no +question whatever about this or that grave. No +one found out that the little one which was now +laid to rest was never to be taken to the family +vault.</p> + +<p>Had she but thought of that, had she not forgotten +everything else in her fear and terror, then +she need not have been afraid, not for a single +moment.</p> + +<p>'In the spring,' she thought, 'when the coffin +has to be placed in the ground, there will probably +be no one there except the grave-digger; everybody +will think that the child is lying in the +Sanders' vault.' And she felt that she was saved.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p> + +<p>She sank down sobbing violently. People +looked at her with sympathy. 'How terribly she +felt it!' they said. But she herself knew that she +cried like one who has escaped from a mortal +danger.</p> + +<p>A day or two after the funeral she was sitting +in the twilight in her accustomed place in the +dining-room, and as it grew darker she caught +herself waiting and longing. She sat and listened +for the child; that was the time when he always +used to come in and play with her. Why did +he not come that day? Then she started. 'Oh, +he is dead, he is dead!'</p> + +<p>The next day she sat again in the twilight, and +longed for him, and day by day this longing grew. +It grew as the light does in the springtime, until +at last it filled all the hours both of day and night.</p> + +<p>It almost goes without saying that a child like +hers was more loved after death than whilst it +was living. While it was living its mother had +thought of nothing but regaining the trust and +the love of her husband. And for him the child +could never be a source of happiness. It was necessary +to keep it away from him as much as +possible; and the child had often felt he was in +the way.</p> + +<p>She, who had failed in and neglected her duty, +would show her husband that she was worth +something after all. She was always about in the +kitchen and in the weaving-room. Where could +there be any room, then, for the little boy?</p> + +<p>But now, afterwards, she remembered how his +eyes could beg and beseech. In the evening he +liked so much to have her sitting at his bedside<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span>. +He said he was afraid to lie in the dark; but now +it struck her that that had probably only been +an excuse to get her to stay with him. She remembered +how he lay and tried not to fall asleep. +Now she knew that he kept himself awake in +order that he might lie a little longer and feel his +hand in hers. He had been a shrewd little fellow, +young as he was. He had exerted all his little +brain to find out how he could get a little share +of her love. It is incomprehensible that children +can love so deeply. She never understood it +whilst he was alive.</p> + +<p>It was really first now that she had begun to +love the child. It was first now that she was +really impressed by his beauty. She would sit +and dream of his big, strange eyes. He had never +been robust and ruddy like most children, but +delicate and slender. But how sweet he had been! +He seemed to her now as something wonderfully +beautiful—more and more beautiful for every day +that went. Children were indeed the best of all +in this world. To think that there were little +beings stretching out their hands to everybody, +and thinking good of all; that never ask if a face +be plain or pretty, but are equally willing to kiss +either, loving equally old and young, rich and +poor. And yet they were real little people.</p> + +<p>For every day that went she was drawn nearer +and nearer to the child. She wished that the +child had been still alive; but, on the other hand, +she was not sure that in that case she would have +been drawn so near to it. At times she was quite +in despair at the thought that she had not done +more for the child whilst he was alive. That was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> +probably why he had been taken from her, she +thought.</p> + +<p>But it was not often that she sorrowed like this. +Earlier in life she had always been afraid lest some +great sorrow should overtake her, but now it +seemed to her that sorrow was not what she had +then thought it to be. Sorrow was only to live +over and over again through something which +was no more. Sorrow in her case was to become +familiar with her child's whole being, and to seek +to understand him. And that sorrow had made +her life so rich.</p> + +<p>What she was most afraid of now was that time +would take him from her and wipe out the memory +of him. She had no picture of him; perhaps +his features little by little would fade for her. She +sat every day and tried to think how he looked. +'Do I see him exactly as he was?' she said.</p> + +<p>Week by week, as the winter wore away, she +began to long for the time when he would be +taken from the mortuary and buried in the +ground, so that she could go to his grave and +speak with him. He should lie towards the west, +that was the most beautiful, and she would deck +the grave with roses. There should also be a +hedge round the grave, and a seat where she could +sit often and often. People would perhaps wonder +at it; but they were not to know that her +child did not lie in the family grave; and they +were sure to think it strange that she placed flowers +on an unknown grave and sat there for hours. +What could she say to explain it?</p> + +<p>Sometimes she thought that she could, perhaps, +do it in this way: First she would go to the big<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> +grave and place a large bouquet of flowers on +it, and remain sitting there for some time, and +afterwards she would steal away to the little +grave; and he would be sure to be content with +the little flower she would secretly give him. But +even if he were satisfied with the one little flower, +could she be? Could she really come quite near +to him in this way? Would he not notice that +she was ashamed of him? Would he not understand +what a disgrace his birth had been to her? +No, she would have to protect him from that. He +must only think that the joy of having possessed +him weighed against all the rest.</p> + +<p>At last the winter was giving way. One could +see the spring was coming. The snow-cover began +to melt, and the earth to peep out. It would +still be a week or two before the ground was +thawed, but it would not be long now before the +dead could be taken away from the mortuary. +And she longed—she longed so exceedingly +for it.</p> + +<p>Could she still picture to herself how he +looked? She tried every day; but it was easier +when it was winter. Now, when the spring was +coming, it seemed as if he faded away from her. +She was filled with despair. If she were only soon +able to sit by his grave and be near to him +again, then she would be able to see him again, +to love him. Would he never be laid in his little +grave? She must be able to see him again, see +him through her whole life; she had no one else +to love.</p> + +<p>At last all her fears and scruples vanished before +this great longing. She loved, she loved;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> +she could not live without the dead! She knew +now that she could not consider anybody or anything +but him—him alone. And when the spring +came in earnest, when mounds and graves once +again appeared all over the churchyard, when the +little hearts of the iron crosses again began to +tinkle in the wind, and the beaded wreaths to +sparkle in their glass cases, and when the earth +at last was ready to receive the little coffin, she +had ready a black cross to place on his grave. +On the cross from arm to arm was written in plain +white letters,</p> + +<p class="quote"> +'HERE RESTS MY CHILD,'<br /> +</p> + +<p>and underneath, on the stem of the cross, stood +her name.</p> + +<p>She did not mind that the whole world would +know how she had sinned. Other things were +of no consequence to her; all she thought about +was that she would now be able to pray at the +grave of her child.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span></p> + +<div class="story_title_page"> +<h2 title="The Brothers">X. <a name="Brothers" id="Brothers"><span class="dec_italic">The</span> <span class="smcap">Brothers</span></a></h2> +<p><span class="dec_italic">From a Swedish</span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">Homestead</span></p> +<p class="story_no">X</p> +<p><span class="dec_italic">The</span> <span class="smcap">Brothers</span></p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></p> + +<p class="story_head"><span class="dec_italic">The</span> <span class="smcap">Brothers</span></p> + +<p>It is very possible that I am mistaken, but it +seems to me that an astonishing number of +people die this year. I have a feeling that +I cannot go down the street without meeting a +hearse. One cannot help thinking about all those +who are carried to the churchyard. I always feel +as if it were so sad for the dead who have to be +buried in towns. I can hear how they moan in +their coffins. Some complain that they have not +had plumes on the hearse; some count up the +wreaths, and are not satisfied; and then there are +some who have only been followed by two or +three carriages, and who are hurt by it.</p> + +<p>The dead ought never to know and experience +such things; but people in towns do not at all +understand how they ought to honour those who +have entered into eternal rest.</p> + +<p>When I really think over it I do not know any +place where they understand it better than at +home in Svartsjö. If you die in the parish of +Svartsjö you know you will have a coffin like that +of everyone else—an honest black coffin which is +like the coffins in which the country judge and +the local magistrate were buried a year or two +ago. For the same joiner makes all the coffins, +and he has only one pattern; the one is made +neither better nor worse than the other. And you +know also, for you have seen it so many times, +that you will be carried to the church on a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> +waggon which has been painted black for the +occasion. You need not trouble yourself at all +about any plumes. And you know that the whole +village will follow you to the church, and that +they will drive as slowly and as solemnly for you +as for a landed proprietor.</p> + +<p>But you will have no occasion to feel annoyed +because you have not enough wreaths, for they +do not place a single flower on the coffin; it shall +stand out black and shining, and nothing must +cover it; and it is not necessary for you to think +whether you will have a sufficiently large number +of people to follow you, for those who live in your +town will be sure to follow you, every one. Nor +will you be obliged to lie and listen if there is +lamenting and weeping around your coffin. They +never weep over the dead when they stand on the +church hill outside Svartsjö Church. No, they +weep as little over a strong young fellow who falls +a prey to death just as he is beginning to provide +for his old people as they will for you. You will +be placed on a couple of black trestles outside the +door of the parish room, and a whole crowd of +people will gradually gather round you, and all +the women will have handkerchiefs in their hands. +But no one will cry; all the handkerchiefs will +be kept tightly rolled up; not one will be applied +to the eyes. You need not speculate as to whether +people will shed as many tears over you as they +would over others. They would cry if it were the +proper thing, but it is not the proper thing.</p> + +<p>You can understand that if there were much +sorrowing over one grave, it would not look well +for those over whom no one sorrowed. They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> +know what they were about at Svartsjö. They do +as it has been the custom to do there for many +hundred years. But whilst you stand there, on +the church hill, you are a great and important +personage, although you receive neither flowers +nor tears. No one comes to church without asking +who you are, and then they go quietly up to +you and stand and gaze at you; and it never +occurs to anyone to wound the dead by pitying +him. No one says anything but that it is well for +him that it is all over.</p> + +<p>It is not at all as it is in a town, where you can +be buried any day. At Svartsjö you must be +buried on a Sunday, so that you can have the +whole parish around you. There you will have +standing near your coffin both the girl with whom +you danced at the last midsummer night's festival +and the man with whom you exchanged horses +at the last fair. You will have the schoolmaster +who took so much trouble with you when you +were a little lad, and who had forgotten you, +although you remembered him so well; and you +will have the old Member of Parliament who +never before thought it worth his while to bow +to you. This is not as in a town, where people +hardly turn round when you are carried past. +When they bring the long bands and place them +under the coffin, there is not one who does not +watch the proceedings.</p> + +<p>You cannot imagine what a churchwarden we +have at Svartsjö. He is an old soldier, and he +looks like a Field-Marshal. He has short white +hair and twisted moustaches, and a pointed imperial; +he is slim and tall and straight, with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> +light and firm step. On Sundays he wears a well-brushed +frock-coat of fine cloth. He really looks +a very fine old gentleman, and it is he who walks +at the head of the procession. Then comes the +verger. Not that the verger is to be compared +with the churchwarden. It is more than probable +that his Sunday hat is too large and old-fashioned; +as likely as not he is awkward—but +when is a verger not awkward?</p> + +<p>Then you come next in your coffin, with the +six bearers, and then follow the clergyman and +the clerk and the Town Council and the whole +parish. All the congregation will follow you to +the churchyard, you may be sure of that. But +I will tell you something: All those who follow +you look so small and poor. They are not fine +town's-people, you know—only plain, simple +Svartsjö folk. There is only one who is great +and important, and that is you in your coffin—you +who are dead.</p> + +<p>The others the next day will have to resume +their heavy and toilsome work. They will have +to live in poor old cottages and wear old, patched +clothes; the others will always be plagued and +worried, and dragged down and humbled by +poverty.</p> + +<p>Those who follow you to your grave become +far more sad by looking at the living than by +thinking of you who are dead. You need not +look any more at the velvet collar of your coat +to see if it is not getting worn at the edges; you +need not make a special fold of your silk handkerchief +to hide that it is beginning to fray; you +will never more be compelled to ask the village<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> +shopkeeper to let you have goods on credit; you +will not find out that your strength is failing; you +will not have to wait for the day when you must +go on the parish.</p> + +<p>While they are following you to the grave +everyone will be thinking that it is best to be +dead—better to soar heavenwards, carried on the +white clouds of the morning—than to be always +experiencing life's manifold troubles. When they +come to the wall of the churchyard, where the +grave has been made, the bands are exchanged +for strong ropes, and people get on to the loose +earth and lower you down. And when this has +been done the clerk advances to the grave and +begins to sing: 'I walk towards death.'</p> + +<p>He sings the hymn quite alone; neither the +clergyman nor any of the congregation help him. +But the clerk must sing; however keen the north +wind and however glaring the sun which shines +straight in his face, sing he does.</p> + +<p>The clerk, however, is getting old now, and +he has not much voice left; he is quite aware that +it does not sound as well now as formerly when +he sang people into their graves; but he does it +all the same—it is part of his duty. For the day, +you understand, when his voice quite fails him, so +that he cannot sing any more, he must resign +his office, and this means downright poverty for +him. Therefore the whole gathering stands in +apprehension while the old clerk sings, wondering +whether his voice will last through the whole +verse. But no one joins him, not a single person, +for that would not do; it is not the custom. People +never sing at a grave at Svartsjö. People do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> +not sing in the church either, except the first +hymn on Christmas Day morning.</p> + +<p>Still, if one listened very attentively, one could +hear that the clerk does not sing alone. There +really is another voice, but it sounds so exactly +the same that the two voices blend as if they were +only one. The other who sings is a little old man +in a long, coarse gray coat. He is still older than +the clerk, but he gives out all the voice he has to +help him. And the voice, as I have told you, is +exactly the same kind as the clerk's; they are so +alike one cannot help wondering at it.</p> + +<p>But when one looks closer, the little gray old +man is also exactly like the clerk; he has the same +nose and chin and mouth, only somewhat older, +and, as it were, more hardly dealt with in life. +And then one understands that the little gray man +is the clerk's brother; and then one knows why +he helps him. For, you see, things have never +gone well with him in this world, and he has +always had bad luck; and once he was made a +bankrupt, and brought the clerk into his misfortunes. +He knows that it is his fault that his +brother has always had to struggle. And the +clerk, you know, has tried to help him on to his +legs again, but with no avail, for he has not been +one of those one can help. He has always been +unfortunate; and then, he has had no strength +of purpose.</p> + +<p>But the clerk has been the shining light in the +family; and for the other it has been a case of +receiving and receiving, and he has never been +able to make any return at all. Great God! even +to talk of making any return—he who is so poor!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> +You should only see the little hut in the forest +where he lives. He knows that he has always +been dull and sad, only a burden—only a burden +for his brother and for others. But now of late +he has become a great man; now he is able to +give some return. And that he does. Now he +helps his brother, the clerk, who has been the sunshine +and life and joy for him all his days. Now +he helps him to sing, so that he may keep his +office.</p> + +<p>He does not go to church, for he thinks that +everyone looks at him because he has no black +Sunday clothes; but every Sunday he goes up +to the church to see whether there is a coffin on +the black trestles outside the parish room; and +if there is one he goes to the grave, in spite of his +old gray coat, and helps his brother with his pitiful +old voice.</p> + +<p>The little old man knows very well how badly +he sings; he places himself behind the others, +and does not push forward to the grave. But +sing he does; it would not matter so much if the +clerk's voice should fail on one or other note, his +brother is there and helps him.</p> + +<p>At the churchyard no one laughs at the singing; +but when people go home and have thrown +off their devoutness, then they speak about the +service, and then they laugh at the clerk's singing—laugh +both at his and his brother's. The clerk +does not mind it, it is the same to him; but his +brother thinks about it and suffers from it; he +dreads the Sunday the whole week, but still he +comes punctually to the churchyard and does his +duty. But you in your coffin, you do not think so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> +badly of the singing. You think that it is good +music. Is it not true that one would like to be +buried in Svartsjö, if only for the sake of that +singing?</p> + +<p>It says in the hymn that life is but a walk +towards death, and when the two old men sing +this—the two who have suffered for each other +during their whole life—then one understands +better than ever before how wearisome it is to +live, and one is so entirely satisfied with being +dead.</p> + +<p>And then the singing stops, and the clergyman +throws earth on the coffin and says a prayer over +you. Then the two old voices sing: 'I walk +towards heaven.' And they do not sing this verse +any better than the former; their voices grow +more feeble and querulous the longer they sing. +But for you a great and wide expanse opens, and +you soar upwards with tremulous joy, and everything +earthly fades and disappears.</p> + +<p>But still the last which you hear of things +earthly tells of faithfulness and love. And in the +midst of your trembling flight the poor song will +awake memories of all the faithfulness and love +you have met with here below, and this will bear +you upwards. This will fill you with radiance and +make you beautiful as an angel.</p> + +<p class="center">THE END. +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/logo.jpg" alt="Printer's logo" title="Printer's logo" width="97" height="93" /> +</div> + +<p class="center">THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS<br /> +GARDEN CITY, N. Y. +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<div class="transnote"> +<h2>Transcriber's Note:</h2> + +<p>Hyphenation is inconsistent, for example sheepskin, sheep-skin and +sheep's-skin all occur. These have been left as printed.</p> + +<p>On <a href="#Page_184" title="">page 184</a> "... and the nip reddened on the naked branch of the +hawthorn" has been left as printed, however the original Swedish talks +of <span lang="sv" xml:lang="sv">nyponet</span> and <span lang="sv" xml:lang="sv">törnbuskens</span> (rosehip and thornbush), rather than nip and +hawthorn.</p> + +<p>Changes that have been made are:</p> +<ul> +<li><a href="#Page_4" title="">Page 4</a>: from "then I feel that I must speak" to "then I feel that I must speak.".</li> +<li><a href="#Page_55" title="">Page 55</a>: from "the newly-buried birl" to "the newly-buried girl".</li> +<li><a href="#Page_94" title="">Page 94</a>: from "the everlasting unrest that tormened him" to "the everlasting unrest that tormented him".</li> +<li><a href="#Page_124" title="">Page 124</a>: from "why had be been unhappy?" to "why had he been unhappy?".</li> +<li><a href="#Page_229" title="">Page 229</a>: from "found friends in the solitude above" to "found friends in the solitude above.".</li> +<li><a href="#Page_264" title="">Page 264</a>: from "Guilietta Lombardi" to "Giulietta Lombardi".</li> +<li><a href="#Page_328" title="">Page 328</a>: from "the snow had laid its thinck carpet" to "the snow had laid its thick carpet".</li> +</ul> +</div> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44630 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/44630-h/images/crest.jpg b/44630-h/images/crest.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a95e656 --- /dev/null +++ b/44630-h/images/crest.jpg diff --git a/44630-h/images/front_cover.jpg b/44630-h/images/front_cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a45b044 --- /dev/null +++ b/44630-h/images/front_cover.jpg diff --git a/44630-h/images/logo.jpg b/44630-h/images/logo.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1dcf3b7 --- /dev/null +++ b/44630-h/images/logo.jpg |
