Growth of the Soil - Knut Hamsun
Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31
Ay, Sivert might easily promise him all that came to him from his
uncle!
The two brothers jested about it. Sivert was not upset over the
matter, not at all; perhaps, indeed, it might have irked him something
more if he really had thrown away five thousand _Daler_. He knew well
enough that it had been a mere speculation, naming him after his
uncle; he had no claim to anything there. And now he pressed Eleseus
to take what there was. "It's to be yours, of course," said he. "Come
along, let's get it set down in writing. I'd like to see you a rich
man. Don't be too proud to take it!"
Ay, they had many a laugh together. Sivert, indeed, was the one that
helped most to keep Eleseus at home; it would have been much harder
but for him.
As a matter of fact, Eleseus was getting rather spoiled again; the
three weeks' idling on the other side of the hills had not done him
any good. He had also been to church there, and made a show; ay, he
had even met some girls there. Here at Sellanraa there was nothing of
that sort; Jensine, the servant-maid, was a mere nothing, a worker and
no more, rather suited to Sivert.
"I've a fancy to see how that girl Barbro from Breidablik turned out
now she's grown up," said Eleseus one day.
"Well, go down to Axel Stroem's place and see," said Sivert.
Eleseus went down one Sunday. Ay, he had been away, gained confidence
and high spirits once more; he had tasted excitement of a sort, and he
made things livelier at Axel's little place. Barbro herself was by no
means to be despised; at any rate she was the only one anywhere near.
She played the guitar and talked readily; moreover, she did not smell
of tansy, but of real scent, the sort you buy in shops. Eleseus, on
his part, let it be understood that he was only home for a holiday,
and would soon be called back to the office again. But it was not so
bad being at home after all, in the old place, and, of course, he had
the little bedroom to live in. But it was not like being in town!
"Nay, that's a true word," said Barbro, "Town's very different from
this."
Axel himself was altogether out of it with these two town-folk; he
found it dull with them, and preferred to go out and look over his
land. The pair of them were left to do as they liked, and Eleseus
managed things grandly. He told how he had been over to the
neighbouring village to bury his uncle, and did not forget to mention
the speech he had made over the coffin.
When he took his leave, he asked Barbro to go part of the way home
with him. But Barbro, thank you, was not inclined that way.
"Is that the way they do things where you've been," she asked--"for
the ladies to escort the gentlemen home?"
That was a nasty hit for Eleseus; he turned red, and understood he had
offended her.
Nevertheless, he went down to Maaneland again next Sunday, and this
time he took his stick. They talked as before, and Axel was out of it
altogether, as before. "'Tis a big place your father's got," said he.
"And building again, now, it seems."
"Ay, it's all very well for him," said Eleseus, anxious to show off
a little. "He can afford it. It's another matter with poor folk like
ourselves."
"How d'you mean?"
"Oh, haven't you heard? There's been some Swedish millionaires came
down the other day and bought a mine of him, a copper mine."
"Why, you don't say? And he'll have got a heap of money for it, then?"
"Enormous. Well, I don't want to boast, but it was at any rate ever
so many thousands. What was I going to say? Build? You've a deal of
timber lying about here yourself. When are you going to start?"
Barbro put in her word here: "Never!"
Now that was pure exaggeration and impertinence. Axel had got his
stones the autumn before, and carted them home that winter; now,
between seasons, he had got the foundation walls done, and cellar and
all else--all that remained was to build the timbered part above. He
was hoping to get part of it roofed in this autumn, and had thought
of asking Sivert to lend him a hand for a few days--what did Eleseus
think of that?
Eleseus thought like as not. "But why not ask me?" he said, smiling.
"You?" said Axel, and he spoke with sudden respect at the idea.
"You've talents for other things than that, I take it."
Oh, but it was pleasant to find oneself appreciated here in the wilds!
"Why, I'm afraid my hands aren't much good at that sort of work," said
Eleseus delicately.
"Let me look," said Barbro, and took his hand.
Axel dropped out of the conversation again, and went out, leaving the
two of them alone. They were of an age, had been to school together,
and played and kissed each other and raced about; and now, with a
fine disdainful carelessness, they talked of old times--exchanging
reminiscences--and Barbro, perhaps, was inclined to show off a little
before her companion. True, this Eleseus was not like the really fine
young men in offices, that wore glasses and gold watches and so on,
but he could pass for a gentleman here in the wilds, there was
no denying that. And she took out her photograph now and showed
him--that's what she looked like then--"all different now, of course."
And Barbro sighed.
"Why, what's the matter with you now?" he asked.
"Don't you think I've changed for the worse since then?"
"Changed for the worse, indeed! Well, I don't mind telling you you're
ever so much prettier now," said he, "filled out all round. For the
worse? Ho! That's a fine idea!"
"But it's a nice dress, don't you think? Cut open just a bit front and
back. And then I had that silver chain you see there, and it cost a
heap of money, too; it was a present from one of the young clerks I
was with then. But I lost it. Not exactly lost it, you know, but I
wanted money to come home."
Eleseus asked: "Can I have the photo to keep?"
"To keep? H'm. What'll you give me for it?"
Oh, Eleseus knew well enough what he wanted to say, but he dared not.
"I'll have mine taken when I go back to town," he said instead, "and
send it you."
Barbro put away the photograph. "No, it's the only one I've left."
That was a stroke of darkness to his young heart, and he stretched out
his hand towards the picture.
"Well, give me something for it, now," she said, laughing. And at that
he up and kissed her properly.
After that it was easier all round; Eleseus brightened up, and got
on finely. They flirted and joked and laughed, and were excellent
friends. "When you took my hand just now it was like a bit of swan's
down--yours, I mean."
"Oh, you'll be going back to town again, and never come back here,
I'll be bound," said Barbro.
"Do you think I'm that sort?" said Eleseus.
"Ah, I dare say there's a somebody there you're fond of."
"No, there isn't. Between you and me, I'm not engaged at all," said
he.
"Oh yes, you are; I know."
"No, solemn fact, I'm not."
They carried on like this quite a while; Eleseus was plainly in love.
"I'll write to you," said he. "May I?"
"Yes," said she.
"For I wouldn't be mean enough if you didn't care about it, you
know." And suddenly he was jealous, and asked: "I've heard say you're
promised to Axel here; is it true?"
"Axel?" she said scornfully, and he brightened up again. "I'll see him
farther!" But then she turned penitent, and added: "Alex, he's good
enough for me, though.... And he takes in a paper all for me to read,
and gives me things now and again--lots of things. I will say that"
"Oh, of course," Eleseus agreed. "He may be an excellent fellow in his
way, but that's not everything...."
But the thought of Axel seemed to have made Barbro anxious; she got
up, and said to Eleseus: "You'll have to go now; I must see to the
animals."
Next Sunday Eleseus went down a good deal later than usual, and
carried the letter himself. It was a letter! A whole week of
excitement, all the trouble it had cost him to write, but here it
was at last; he had managed to produce a letter: "To Froeken Barbro
Bredesen. It is two or three times now I have had the inexpressible
delight of seeing you again...."
Coming so late as he did now, Barbro must at any rate have finished
seeing to the animals, and might perhaps have gone to bed already.
That wouldn't matter--quite the reverse, indeed.
But Barbro was up, sitting in the hut. She looked now as if she had
suddenly lost all idea of being nice to him and making love--Eleseus
fancied Axel had perhaps got hold of her and warned her.
"Here's the letter I promised you," he said.
"Thank you," said she, and opened it, and read it through without
seeming much moved. "I wish I could write as nice a hand as that," she
said.
Eleseus was disappointed. What had he done--what was the matter with
her? And where was Axel? He was not there. Beginning to get tired of
these foolish Sunday visits, perhaps, and preferred to stay away; or
he might have had some business to keep him over, when he went down to
the village the day before. Anyhow, he was not there.
"What d'you want to sit here in this stuffy old place for on a lovely
evening?" asked Eleseus. "Come out for a walk."
"I'm waiting for Axel," she answered.
"Axel? Can't you live without Axel, then?"
"Yes. But he'll want something to eat when he comes back."
Time went, time dribbled away, they came no nearer each other; Barbro
was as cross and contrary as ever. He tried telling her again of his
visit across the hills, and did not forget about the speech he had
made: "'Twasn't much I had to say, but all the same it brought out the
tears from some of them."
"Did it?" said she.
"And then one Sunday I went to church."
"What news there?"
"News? Oh, nothing. Only to have a look round. Not much of a priest,
as far as I know anything about it; no sort of manner, he had."
Time went.
"What d'you think Axel'd say if he found you here this evening again?"
said Barbro suddenly.
There was a thing to say! It was as if she had struck him. Had she
forgotten all about last time? Hadn't they agreed that he was to come
this evening? Eleseus was deeply hurt, and murmured: "I can go, if you
like. What have I done?" he asked then, his lips trembling. He was in
distress, in trouble, that was plain to see.
"Done? Oh, you haven't done anything."
"Well, what's the matter with you, anyway, this evening?"
"With me? Ha ha ha!--But come to think of it, 'tis no wonder Axel
should be angry."
"I'll go, then," said Eleseus again. But she was still indifferent,
not in the least afraid, caring nothing that he sat there struggling
with his feelings. Fool of a woman!
And now he began to grow angry; he hinted his displeasure at first
delicately: to the effect that she was a nice sort indeed, and a
credit to her sex, huh! But when that produced no effect--oh, he would
have done better to endure it patiently, and say nothing. But he grew
no better for that; he said: "If I'd known you were going to be like
this, I'd never have come this evening at all."
"Well, what if you hadn't?" said she. "You'd have lost a chance of
airing that cane of yours that you're so fond of."
Oh, Barbro, she had lived in Bergen, she knew how to jeer at a man;
she had seen real walking-sticks, and could ask now what he wanted to
go swinging a patched-up umbrella handle like that for. But he let her
go on.
"I suppose now you'll be wanting that photograph back you gave me,"
he said. And if that didn't move her, surely nothing would, for among
folks in the wilds, there was nothing counted so mean as to take back
a gift.
"That's as it may be," she answered evasively.
"Oh, you shall have it all right," he answered bravely. "I'll send
it back at once, never fear. And now perhaps you'll give me back my
letter." Eleseus rose to his feet.
Very well; she gave him back the letter. But now the tears came into
her eyes as she did so; this servant girl was touched; her friend was
forsaking her--good-bye for ever!
"You've no need to go," she said. "I don't care for what Axel says."
But Eleseus had the upper hand now, and must use it; he thanked
her and said good-bye. "When a lady carries on that way," he said,
"there's nothing else to be done."
He left the house, quietly, and walked up homeward, whistling,
swinging his stick, and playing the man. Huh! A little while after
came Barbro walking up; she called to him once or twice. Very well;
he stopped, so he did, but was a wounded lion. She sat down in the
heather looking penitent; she fidgeted with a sprig, and a little
after he too softened, and asked for a kiss, the last time, just to
say good-bye, he said. No, she would not. "Be nice and be a dear, like
you were last time," he begged, and moved round her on all sides,
stepping quickly, if he could see his chance. But she would not be a
dear; she got up. And there she stood. And at that he simply nodded
and went.
When he was out of sight, Axel appeared suddenly from behind
some bushes. Barbro started, all taken aback, and asked: "What's
that--where have you been? Up that way?"
"No; I've been down that way," he answered. "But I saw you two going
up here."
"Ho, did you? And a lot of good it did you, I dare say," she cried,
suddenly furious. She was certainly not easier to deal with now. "What
are you poking and sniffing about after, I'd like to know? What's it
to do with you?"
Axel was not in the best of temper himself. "H'm. So he's been here
again today?"
"Well, what if he has? What do you want with him?"
"I want with him? It's what you want with him, I'd like to ask. You
ought to be ashamed."
"Ashamed? Huh! The least said about that, if you ask me," said Barbro.
"I'm here to sit in the house like a statue, I suppose? What have I
got to be ashamed of, anyway? If you like to go and get some one else
to look after the place, I'm ready to go. You hold your tongue, that's
all I've got to say, if it's not too much to ask. I'm going back now
to get your supper and make the coffee, and after that I can do as I
please."
They came home with the quarrel at its height.
No, they were not always the best of friends, Axel and Barbro; there
was trouble now and again. She had been with him now for a couple of
years, and they had had words before; mostly when Barbro talked of
finding another place. He wanted her to stay there for ever, to settle
down there and share the house and life with him; he knew how hard
it would be for him if he were left without help again. And she had
promised several times--ay, in her more affectionate moments she would
not think of going away at all. But the moment they quarrelled about
anything, she invariably threatened to go. If for nothing else, she
must go to have her teeth seen to in town. Go, go away ... Axel felt
he must find a means to keep her.
Keep her? A lot Barbro cared for his trying to keep her if she didn't
want to stay.
"Ho, so you want to go away again?" said he.
"Well, and if I do?"
"_Can_ you, d'you think?"
"Well, and why not? If you think I'm afraid because the winter's
coming on ... But I can get a place in Bergen any day I like."
Then said Axel steadily enough: "It'll be some time before you can do
that, anyway. As long as you're with child."
"With child? What are you talking about?"
Axel stared. Was the girl mad? True, he himself should have been more
patient. Now that he had the means of keeping her, he had grown too
confident, and that was a mistake; there was no need to be sharp with
her and make her wild; he need not have ordered her in so many words
to help him with the potatoes that spring--he might have planted
them by himself. There would be plenty of time for him to assert his
authority after they were married; until then he ought to have had
sense enough to give way.
But--it _was_ too bad, this business with Eleseus, this clerk, who
came swaggering about with his walking-stick and all his fine talk.
For a girl to carry on like that when she was promised to another
man--and in her condition! It was beyond understanding. Up to then,
Axel had had no rival to compete with--now, it was different.
"Here's a new paper for you," he said. "And here's a bit of a thing I
got you. Don't know if you'll care about it."
Barbro was cold. They were sitting there together, drinking scalding
hot coffee from the bowl, but for all that she answered icy cold:
"I suppose that's the gold ring you've been promising me this
twelvemonth and more."
This, however, was beyond the mark, for it _was_ the ring after all.
But a gold ring it was not, and that he had never promised her--'twas
an invention of her own; silver it was, with gilt hands clasped, real
silver, with the mark on and all. But ah, that unlucky voyage of hers
to Bergen! Barbro had seen real engagement rings--no use telling her!
"That ring! Huh! You can keep it yourself."
"What's wrong with it, then?"
"Wrong with it? There's nothing wrong with it that I know," she
answered, and got up to clear the table.
"Why, you'll needs make do with it for now," he said. "Maybe I'll
manage another some day."
Barbro made no answer.
A thankless creature was Barbro this evening. A new silver ring--she
might at least have thanked him nicely for it. It must be that clerk
with the town ways that had turned her head. Axel could not help
saying: "I'd like to know what that fellow Eleseus keeps coming here
for, anyway. What does he want with you?"
"With me?"
"Ay. Is he such a greenhorn and can't see how 'tis with you now?
Hasn't he eyes in his head?"
Barbro turned on him straight at that: "Oh, so you think you've got
a hold on me because of _that_? You'll find out you're wrong, that's
all."
"Ho!" said Axel.
"Ay, and I'll not stay here, neither."
But Axel only smiled a little at this; not broadly and laughing in
her face, no; for he did not mean to cross her. And then he spoke
soothingly, as to a child: "Be a good girl now, Barbro. 'Tis you and
me, you know."
And of course in the end Barbro gave in and was good, and even went to
sleep with the silver ring on her finger.
It would all come right in time, never fear.
For the two in the hut, yes. But what about Eleseus? 'Twas worse with
him; he found it hard to get over the shameful way Barbro had treated
him. He knew nothing of hysterics, and took it as all pure cruelty on
her part; that girl Barbro from Breidablik thought a deal too much of
herself, even though she _had_ been in Bergen....
He sent her back the photograph in a way of his own--took it down
himself one night and stuck it through the door to her in the hayloft,
where she slept. 'Twas not done in any rough unmannerly way, not at
all; he had fidgeted with the door a long time so as to wake her, and
when she rose up on her elbow and asked, "What's the matter; can't you
find your way in this evening?" he understood the question was meant
for some one else, and it went through him like a needle; like a
sabre.
He walked back home--no walking-stick, no whistling. He did not care
about playing the man any longer. A stab at the heart is no light
matter.
And was that the last of it?
One Sunday he went down just to look; to peep and spy. With a sickly
and unnatural patience he lay in hiding among the bushes, staring over
at the hut. And when at last there came a sign of life and movement it
was enough to make an end of him altogether: Axel and Barbro came
out together and went across to the cowshed. They were loving and
affectionate now, ay, they had a blessed hour; they walked with their
arms round each other, and he was going to help her with the animals.
Ho, yes!
Eleseus watched the pair with a look as if he had lost all; as a
ruined man. And his thought, maybe, was like this: There she goes arm
in arm with Axel Stroem. How she could ever do it I can't think; there
was a time when she put her arms round me! And there they disappeared
into the shed.
Well, let them! Huh! Was he to lie here in the bushes and forget
himself? A nice thing for him--to lie there flat on his belly and
forget himself. Who was she, after all? But he was the man he was.
Huh! again.
He sprang to his feet and stood up. Brushed the twigs and dust from
his clothes and drew himself up and stood upright again. His rage and
desperation came out in a curious fashion now: he threw all care to
the winds, and began singing a ballad of highly frivolous import. And
there was an earnest expression on his face as he took care to sing
the worst parts loudest of all.
Chapter XIX
Isak came back from the village with a horse. Ay, it had come to that;
he had bought the horse from the Lensmand's assistant; the animal was
for sale, as Geissler had said, but it cost two hundred and forty
_Kroner_--that was sixty _Daler_. The price of horseflesh had gone up
beyond all bounds: when Isak was a boy the best horse could be bought
for fifty _Daler_.
But why had he never raised a horse himself? He had thought of it, had
imagined a nice little foal--that he had been waiting for these two
years past. That was a business for folk who could spare the time from
their land, could leave waste patches lying waste till they got a
horse to carry home the crop. The Lensmand's assistant had said: "I
don't care about paying for a horse's keep myself; I've no more hay
than my womenfolk can get it in by themselves while I'm away on duty."
The new horse was an old idea of Isak's, he had been thinking of it
for years; it was not Geissler who had put him up to it. And he had
also made preparations such as he could; a new stall, a new rope for
tethering it in the summer; as for carts, he had some already, he must
make some more for the autumn. Most important of all was the fodder,
and he had not forgotten that, of course; or why should he have
thought it so important to get that last patch broken up last year if
it hadn't been to save getting rid of one of the cows, and yet have
enough keep for a new horse? It was, sown for green fodder now; that
was for the calving cows.
Ay, he had thought it all out. Well might Inger be astonished again,
and clap her hands just as in the old days.
Isak brought news from the village; Breidablik was to be sold, there
was a notice outside the church. The bit of crop, such as it was,--hay
and potatoes,--to go with the rest. Perhaps the live stock too; a few
beasts only, nothing big.
"Is he going to sell up the home altogether and leave nothing?" cried
Inger. "And where's he going to live?"
"In the village."
It was true enough. Brede was going back to the tillage. But he had
first tried to get Axel Stroem to let him live there with Barbro.
He didn't succeed. Brede would never dream of interfering with the
relations between his daughter and Axel, so he was careful not to make
himself a nuisance, though to be sure it was a hard set-back, with all
the rest. Axel was going to get his new house built that autumn; well,
then, when he and Barbro moved in there, why couldn't Brede and his
family have a hut? No! 'Twas so with Brede, he didn't look at things
like a farmer and a settler on new land; he didn't understand that
Axel had to move out because he wanted the hut for his growing stock;
the hut was to be a new cowshed. And even when this was explained to
him, he failed to see the point of view; surely human beings should
come before animals, he said. No, a settler's way was different;
animals first; a man could always find himself a shelter for the
winter. But Barbro put in a word herself now: "Ho, so you put the
animals first and us after? 'Tis just as well I know it!" So Axel had
made enemies of a whole family because he hadn't room to house them.
But he would not give way. He was no good-natured fool, was Axel, but
on the contrary he had grown more and more careful; he knew well that
a crowd like that moving in would give him so many more mouths to
fill. Brede bade his daughter be quiet, and tried to make out that he
himself would rather move down to the village again; couldn't endure
life in the wilderness, he said--'twas only for that reason he was
selling the place.
Oh, but to tell the truth it was not so much Brede was selling the
place; 'twas the Bank and the storekeeper were selling up Breidablik,
though for the sake of appearances they let it be done in Brede's
name. That way, he thought he was saved from disgrace. And Brede was
not altogether dejected when Isak met him; he consoled himself with
the thought that he was still Inspector on the telegraph line; that
was a regular income, anyway, and in time he would be able to work up
to his old position in the place as the Lensmand's companion and this
and that. He was something affected at the change, of course; 'twas
not so easy to say good-bye to a place where one had lived and toiled
and moiled so many years, and come to care for. But Brede, good man,
was never long cast down. 'Twas his best point, the charm of him. He
had once in his life taken it into his head to be a tiller of the
soil, 'twas an inspiration had come to him. True, he had not made a
success of it, but he had taken up other plans in the same airy way
and got on better; and who could say--perhaps his samples of ore might
after all turn out something wonderful in time! And then look at
Barbro, he had got her fixed up there at Maaneland, and she'd not be
leaving Axel Stroem now, that he could swear--'twas plain indeed for
any one to see.