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 U N I VERS ITY 
 
 Tom 
 
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 I 
 
 SMOOTH as glass the water was yesterday, and 
 smooth as glass it is again to-day. Indian 
 summer on the island, mild and warm ah ! But 
 there is no sun. 
 
 It is many years now since I knew such peace. 
 Twenty or thirty years, maybe ; or maybe it was in 
 another life. But I have felt it some time, surely, since 
 I go about now humming a little tune ; go about re- 
 joicing, loving every straw and every stone, and feeling 
 as if they cared for me in return. 
 
 When I go by the overgrown path, in through the 
 woods, my heart quivers with an unearthly joy. I call 
 to mind a spot on the eastern shores of the Caspian, 
 where I once stood. All just as it is here, with the 
 water still and heavy and iron-grey as now. I walked 
 through the woods, touched to the heart, and verging 
 on tears for sheer happiness' sake, and saying to myself 
 all the time : God in heaven. To be here again. . . . 
 
 As if I had been there before. 
 
 Ah well, I may have been there once before, perhaps, 
 coming from another time and another land, where the 
 woods and the woodland paths were the same. 
 Perhaps I was a flower then, in the woods, or perhaps a 
 beetle, with its home in some acacia tree. 
 
 And now I have come to this place. Perhaps I was 
 a bird and flew all that long way. Or the kernel in 
 some fruit sent by a Persian trader. 
 
 See, now I am well away from the rush and crowd of
 
 WANDERERS
 
 Original Titles: " Under Hjststjarnen" 
 
 "En Vandrer spiller med Sordin" 
 Translated from the Norwegian by W. WORSTER, M.A.
 
 WANDERERS 
 
 ("AUTUMN" AND "WITH MUTED 
 STRINGS") 
 
 BY 
 
 KNUT HAMSUN 
 
 GYLDENDAL 
 11 HANOVER SQUARE, LONDON, W.I 
 
 COPENHAGEN CHRISTIANIA
 
 o 
 
 c/> 
 
 to 
 
 OT 
 
 oo 
 
 
 AUTUMN 

 
 I 
 
 SMOOTH as glass the water was yesterday, and 
 smooth as glass it is again to-day. Indian 
 summer on the island, mild and warm ah ! But 
 there is no sun. 
 
 It is many years now since I knew such peace. 
 Twenty or thirty years, maybe ; or maybe it was in 
 another life. But I have felt it some time, surely, since 
 I go about now humming a little tune ; go about re- 
 joicing, loving every straw and every stone, and feeling 
 as if they cared for me in return. 
 
 When I go by the overgrown path, in through the 
 woods, my heart quivers with an unearthly joy. I call 
 to mind a spot on the eastern shores of the Caspian, 
 where I once stood. All just as it is here, with the 
 water still and heavy and iron-grey as now. I walked 
 through the woods, touched to the heart, and verging 
 on tears for sheer happiness' sake, and saying to myself 
 all the time : God in heaven. To be here again. . . . 
 
 As if I had been there before. 
 
 Ah well, I may have been there once before, perhaps, 
 coming from another time and another land, where the 
 woods and the woodland paths were the same. 
 Perhaps I was a flower then, in the woods, or perhaps a 
 beetle, with its home in some acacia tree. 
 
 And now I have come to this place. Perhaps I was 
 a bird and flew all that long way. Or the kernel in 
 some fruit sent by a Persian trader. 
 
 See, now I am well away from the rush and crowd of
 
 4 WANDERERS 
 
 the city, from people and newspapers ; I have fled away 
 from it all, because of the calling that came to me once 
 more from the quiet, lonely tracts where I belong. 
 " It will all come right this time," I tell myself, and am 
 full of hope. Alas, I have fled away from the city like 
 this before, and afterwards returned. And fled away 
 again. 
 
 But this time I am resolved. Peace I will have, at 
 any cost. And for the present I have taken a room in 
 a cottage here, with Old Gunhild to look after me. 
 
 Here and there among the pines are rowans, with 
 ripe coral berries ; now the berries are falling, heavy 
 clusters striking the earth. So they reap themselves 
 and sow themselves again, an inconceivable abundance 
 to be squandered every single year. Over three hundred 
 clusters I can count on a single tree. And here and 
 there about are flowers still in bloom, obstinate things 
 that will not die, though their time is really past. 
 
 But Old Gunhild's time is past as well and think 
 you she will die ? She goes about as if death were a 
 thing did not concern her. When the fishermen are 
 down on the beach, painting their boats or darning 
 nets, comes Gunhild with her vacant eyes, but with a 
 mind as keen as any to a bargain. 
 
 "And what is the price of mackerel to-day?" she 
 asks. 
 
 " The same as yesterday." 
 
 " Then you can keep it, for all I care." 
 
 And Gunhild goes back home. 
 
 But the fishermen know that Gunhild is not one of 
 those that only pretend to go away ; she has gone off 
 like that before now, up to her cottage, without once 
 looking back. So, "Hey" they call to her, and say 
 they'll make it seven to the half-dozen to-day, seeing 
 she is an old customer. 
 
 And Gunhild buys her fish. . . .
 
 WANDERERS 5 
 
 Washing hangs on the lines to dry ; red petticoats 
 and blue shirts, and under-things of preposterous thick- 
 ness, all spun and woven on the island by the old 
 women still left alive. But there is washing, too, of 
 another sort : those fine chemises without sleeves, the 
 very thing to make a body blue with cold, and mauve 
 woollen undervests that pull out to no more than the 
 thickness of a string. And how did these abominations 
 get there? Why, 'tis the daughters, to be sure, the 
 young girls of the present day, who've been in service 
 in the towns, and earned such finery that way. Wash 
 them carefully, and not too often, and the things will 
 last for just a month. And then there is a lovely naked 
 feeling when the holes begin to spread. 
 
 But there is none of that sort of nonsense, now, about 
 Gunhild's shoes, for instance. At suitable intervals, 
 she goes round to one of the fishermen, her like in age 
 and mind, and gets the uppers and the soles done in 
 thoroughly with a powerful mess of stuff that leaves the 
 water simply helpless. I've seen that dubbin boiling 
 on the beach ; there's tallow in it, and tar and resin as 
 well. 
 
 Wandering idly along the beach yesterday, looking 
 at driftwood and scales and stones, I came upon a tiny 
 bit of plate glass. How it ever got there is more than 
 I can make out ; but the thing seems a mistake, a very 
 lie, to look at. Would any fisherman, now, have 
 rowed put here with it and laid it down and rowed 
 away again ? I left it where it lay ; it was thick and 
 common and vulgar ; perhaps a bit of a tramcar 
 window. Once on a time glass was rare, and bottle- 
 green. God's blessing on the old days, when some- 
 thing could be rare ! 
 
 Smoke rising now from the fisher-huts on the southern 
 point of the island. Evening time, and porridge cooking 
 for supper. And when supper's done, decent folk go
 
 6 WANDERERS 
 
 to their beds, to be up again with the dawn. Only 
 young and foolish creatures still go trapesing round 
 from house to house, putting off their bedtime, not 
 knowing what is best for themselves. 
 
 II 
 
 A man landed here this morning come to paint the 
 house. But Old Gunhild, being very old indeed, and 
 perishing with gout most times, gets him to cut up a 
 few days' firewood for her cooking before he starts. 
 I've offered many a time to cut that wood myself, but 
 she thinks my clothes too fine, and would not let me 
 have the axe on any account. 
 
 This painter, now, is a short, thick-set fellow with 
 red hair and no beard. I watch him from behind a 
 window as he works, to see how he handles the axe. 
 Then, noticing that he is talking to himself, I steal out 
 of the house to listen. If he makes a false stroke, he 
 takes it patiently, and does not trouble himself; but 
 whenever he knocks his knuckles, he turns irritable 
 and says : " Fan! Fansmagt!" 1 and then looks round 
 suddenly and starts humming a tune to cover his 
 words. 
 
 Yes ; I recognise that painter man. Only, he's not a 
 painter at all, the rascal, but Grindhusen, one of the 
 men I worked with when I was roadmaking at Skreia. 
 
 I go up to him, and ask if he remembers me, and we 
 talk a bit. 
 
 Many, many years it is now since we were road- 
 menders together, Grindhusen and I ; we were young- 
 sters then, and danced along the roads in the sorriest of 
 shoes, and ate what we could get as long as we had 
 money enough for that. But when we'd money to 
 spare, then there would be dancing with the girls all 
 1 " The Devil ! Power of the Devil ! "
 
 WANDERERS 7 
 
 Saturday night, and a crowd of our work-mates would 
 come along, and the old woman in the house sold us 
 coffee till she must have made a little fortune. Then 
 we worked on heart and soul another week through, 
 looking forward to the Saturday again. But Grind- 
 husen, he was as a red-headed wolf after the girls. 
 
 Did he remember the old days at Skreia ? 
 
 He looks at me, taking stock of me, with something 
 of reserve ; it is quite a while before I can draw him 
 out to remember it at all. 
 
 Yes, he remembers Skreia well enough. 
 
 " And Anders Fila and ' Spiralen ' and Petra ? " 
 
 "Which one?" 
 
 " Petra the one that was your girl." 
 
 "Ay, I remember her. I got tied up with her at 
 last." 
 
 Grindhusen falls to chopping wood again. 
 
 " Got tied up with her, did you ? " 
 
 "Ay, that was the end of it. Had to be, I suppose. 
 What was I going to say, now ? You've turned out 
 something fine, by the look of things." 
 
 "Why? Is it these clothes you're thinking of? 
 You've Sunday clothes yourself, now, haven't you ? " 
 
 " What d'you give for those you've got on ? " 
 
 " I can't remember, but it was nothing very much. 
 Couldn't say exactly what it was." 
 
 Grindhusen looks at me in astonishment and bursts 
 out laughing. 
 
 " What ? Can't remember what you paid for them ? " 
 
 Then he turns serious, shakes his head, and says : 
 "No, I dare say you wouldn't. No. That's the way 
 when you've money enough and beyond." 
 
 Old Gunhild comes out from the house, and seeing us 
 standing there by the chopping-block wasting time in 
 idle talk, she tells Grindhusen he'd better start on the 
 painting.
 
 8 WANDERERS 
 
 " So you've turned painter now ? " said I. 
 Grindhusen made no answer, and I saw I had said a 
 thing that should not have been said in others' hearing. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Grindhusen works away a couple of hours with his 
 putty and paint, and soon one side of the little house, 
 the north side, facing the sea, is done all gaily in red. 
 At the midday rest, I go out and join him, with some- 
 thing to drink, and we lie on the ground awhile, chatting 
 and smoking. 
 
 " Painter ? Not much of a one, and that's the truth," 
 says he. " But if anyone comes along and asks if I can 
 paint a bit of a wall, why, of course I can. First-rate 
 Brcendevin this you've got." 
 
 His wife and two children lived some four miles off, 
 and he went home to them every Saturday. There 
 were two daughters besides, both grown up, and one of 
 them married. Grindhusen was a grandfather already. 
 As soon as he'd done painting Gunhild's cottage two 
 coats it was to have he was going off to the vicarage 
 to dig a well. There was always work of some sort to 
 be had about the villages. And when winter set in, and 
 the frost began to bind, he would either take a turn of 
 woodcutting in the forests or lie idle for a spell, till 
 something else turned up. He'd no big family to look 
 after now, and the morrow, no doubt, would look after 
 itself just as to-day. 
 
 "If I could only manage it," said Grindhusen, "I 
 know what I'd do. I'd get myself some bricklayer's 
 tools." 
 
 " So you're a bricklayer, too? " 
 
 " Well, not much of a one, and that's the truth. But 
 when that well's dug, why, it'll need to be lined, that's 
 clear. , ."
 
 WANDERERS 9 
 
 I sauntered about the island as usual, thinking of this 
 and that. Peace, peace, a heavenly peace comes to me 
 in a voice of silence from every tree in the wood. And 
 now, look you, there are but few of the small birds left ; 
 only some crows flying mutely from place to place and 
 settling. And the clusters from the rowans drop with 
 a sullen thud and bury themselves in the moss. 
 
 Grindhusen is right, perhaps : to-morrow will surely 
 look after itself, just as to-day. I have not seen a paper 
 now these last two weeks, and, for all that, here I am, 
 alive and well, making great progress in respect of 
 inward calm ; I sing, and square my shoulders, and 
 stand bareheaded watching the stars at night. 
 
 For eighteen years past I have sat in cafe's, calling for 
 the waiter if a fork was not clean : I never call for Gun- 
 hild in the matter of forks clean or not ! There's Grind- 
 husen, now, I say to myself ; did you mark when he lit 
 his pipe, how he used the match to the very last of it, 
 and never burned his horny fingers ? I saw a fly crawl- 
 ing over his hand, but he simply let it crawl ; perhaps 
 he never noticed it was there. That is the way a man 
 should feel towards flies. . . . 
 
 In the evening, Grindhusen takes the boat and rows 
 off. I wander along the beach, singing to myself a 
 little, throwing stones at the water, and hauling bits of 
 driftwood ashore. The stars are out, and there is a 
 moon. In a couple of hours Grindhusen comes back, 
 with a good set of bricklayer's tools in the boat. Stolen 
 them somewhere, I think to myself. We shoulder each 
 our load, and hide away the tools among the trees. 
 
 Then it is night, and we go each our separate way. 
 
 Grindhusen finishes his painting the following after- 
 noon, but agrees to go on cutting wood till six o'clock 
 to make up a full day's work. I get out Gunhild's boat 
 and go off fishing, so as not to be there when he leaves. 
 I catch no fish, and it is cold sitting in the boat ; I look
 
 io WANDERERS 
 
 at my watch again and again. At last, about seven 
 
 o'clock : he must be gone by now, I say to myself, and 
 
 I row home. Grindhusen has got over to the mainland, 
 
 and calls across to me from there : " Farvel!" 
 
 Something thrilled me warmly at the word ; it was 
 
 like a calling from my youth, from Skreia, from days a 
 
 generation gone. 
 
 I row across to him and ask : 
 
 " Can you dig that well all alone ? " 
 
 " No. I'll have to take another man along." 
 
 "Take me," I said. "Wait for me here, while I go 
 
 up and settle at the house." 
 
 Half-way up I heard Grindhusen calling again : 
 
 " I can't wait here all night. And I don't believe you 
 
 meant it, anyway." 
 
 " Wait just a minute. I'll be down again directly." 
 And Grindhusen sets himself down on the beach to 
 
 wait. He knows I've some of that first-rate Brcendevin 
 
 still left. 
 
 IV 
 
 We came to the vicarage on a Saturday. After much 
 doubting, Grindhusen had at last agreed to take me as 
 his mate. I had bought provisions and some working 
 clothes, and stood there now, in blouse and high boots, 
 ready to start work. I was free and unknown ; I learned 
 to walk with a long, slouching stride, and for the look 
 of a labouring man, I had that already both in face and 
 hands. We were to put up at the vicarage itself, and 
 cook our food in the brewhouse across the yard. 
 
 And so we started on our digging. 
 
 I did my share of the work, and Grindhusen had no 
 fault to find with me as a work-mate. "You'll turn 
 out a first-rate hand at this, after all," he said. 
 
 Then after we'd been working a bit, the priest came 
 out to look, and we took off our hats. He was an
 
 WANDERERS 1 1 
 
 oldish man, quiet and gentle in his ways and speech ; 
 tiny wrinkles spread out fanwise from the corners of his 
 eyes, like the traces of a thousand kindly smiles. He 
 was sorry to interrupt, and hoped we wouldn't mind 
 but they'd so much trouble every year with the fowls 
 slipping through into the garden. Could we leave the 
 well just for a little, and come round and look at the 
 garden wall ? There was one place in particular . . . 
 
 Grindhusen answered : surely ; we'd manage that for 
 him all right. 
 
 So we went up and set the crumbling wall to rights. 
 While we were busy there a young lady came out and 
 stood looking on. We greeted her politely, and I 
 thought her a beautiful creature to see. Then a half- 
 grown lad came out to look, and asked all sorts of 
 questions. The two were brother and sister, no doubt. 
 And the work went easily enough with the young folk 
 there looking on. 
 
 Then evening came. Grindhusen went off home, 
 leaving me behind. I slept in the hayloft for the night. 
 
 Next day was Sunday. I dared not put on my town 
 clothes lest they should seem above my station, but 
 cleaned up my working things as neatly as I could, and 
 idled about the place in the quiet of Sunday morning. 
 I chatted to the farm-hands and joined them in talking 
 nonsense to the maids ; when the bell began ringing 
 for church, I sent in to ask if I might borrow a Prayer 
 Book, and the priest's son brought me one himself. 
 One of the men lent me a coat ; it wasn't big enough, 
 really, but, taking off my blouse and vest, I made it do. 
 And so I went to church. 
 
 That inward calm I had been at such pains to build 
 up on the island proved all too little yet ; at the first 
 thrill of the organ I was torn from my setting and came 
 near to sobbing aloud. " Keep quiet, you fool," I said 
 to myself, "it's only neurasthenia." I had chosen a
 
 12 WANDERERS 
 
 seat well apart from the rest, and hid my emotion as 
 best I could. I was glad when that service was over. 
 
 When I had boiled my meat and had some dinner, I 
 was invited into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. And 
 while I sat there, in came Frokenen, the young lady 
 I had seen the day before ; I stood up and bowed a 
 greeting, and she nodded in return. She was charming, 
 with her youth and her pretty hands. When I got up 
 to go, I forgot myself and said : 
 
 " Most kind of you, I'm sure, my dear young lady ! " 
 
 She glanced at me in astonishment, frowned, and the 
 colour spread in her cheeks till they burned. Then with 
 a toss of her head she turned and left the room. She 
 was very young. 
 
 Well, I had done a nice thing now ! 
 
 Miserable at heart, I sneaked up into the woods to 
 hide. Impertinent fool, why hadn't I held my tongue ! 
 Of all the ridiculous things to say . . . 
 
 The vicarage buildings lay on the slope of a small 
 hill ; from the top, the land stretched away flat and 
 level, with alternating timber and clearing. It struck 
 me that here would be the proper place to dig the well, 
 and then run a pipe-line down the slope to the house. 
 Judging the height as nearly as I can, it seems more 
 than enough to give the pressure needed ; on the way 
 back I pace out the approximate length : two hundred 
 and fifty feet. 
 
 But what business was it of mine, after all? For 
 Heaven's sake let me not go making the same mistake 
 again, and insulting folk by talking above my station. 
 
 V 
 
 Grindhusen came out again on Monday morning, and 
 we fell to digging as before. The old priest came out 
 to look, and asked if we couldn't fix a post for him on
 
 WANDERERS 1 3 
 
 the road up to the church. He needed it badly, that 
 post ; it had stood there before, but had got blown 
 down ; he used it for nailing up notices and announce- 
 ments. 
 
 We set up a new post, and took pains to get it 
 straight and upstanding as a candle in a stick. And 
 by way of thanks we hooded the top with zinc. 
 
 While I was at work on the hood, I got Grindhusen 
 to suggest that the post should be painted red ; he had 
 still a trifle of red paint left over from the work at 
 Gunhild's cottage. But the priest wanted it white, 
 and Grindhusen was afraid to contradict, and carefully 
 agreed to all he said, until at last I put in a word, and 
 said that notices on white paper would show up better 
 against red. At that the priest smiled, with the endless 
 wrinkles round his eyes, and said : " Yes, yes, of course, 
 you're quite right." 
 
 And that was enough ; just that bit of a smile and 
 saying I was right made me all glad and proud again 
 within. 
 
 Then Frokenen came up, and said a few words to 
 Grindhusen ; even jested with him, asking what that 
 red cardinal was to be stuck up there for on the road. 
 But to me she said nothing at all, and did not even 
 look at me when I took off my hat. 
 
 Dinner was a sore trial to me that day, not that the 
 food was bad, no, but Grindhusen, he ate his soup in a 
 disgusting fashion, and his mouth was all greasy with 
 fat. 
 
 " What'll he be like when it comes to eating por- 
 ridge ? " I thought to myself hysterically. 
 
 Then when he leaned back on the bench to rest 
 after his meal in the same greasy state, I called to 
 him straight out : 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, man, aren't you going to wipe 
 your mouth ? "
 
 I 4 WANDERERS 
 
 He stared at me, wiping his mouth with one hand. 
 " Mouth?" he said. 
 
 I tried to turn it off then as a joke, and said : " Haha, 
 I had you there ! " But I was displeased with myself, for 
 all that, and went out of the brewhouse directly after. 
 
 Then I fell to thinking of Frokenen. "I'll make her 
 answer when I give a greeting," I said to myself. 
 " I'll let her see before very long that I'm not altogether 
 a fool." There was that business of the well and the 
 pipe-line, now ; what if I were to work out a plan for 
 the whole installation all complete ! I had no instru- 
 ments to take the height and fall of the hill . . . well, 
 I could make one that would serve. And I set to work. 
 A wooden tube, with two ordinary lamp-glasses fixed 
 in with putty, and the whole filled with water. 
 
 Soon it was found there were many little things 
 needed seeing to about the vicarage odd matters here 
 and there. A stone step to be set straight again, a 
 wall to be repaired ; the bridgeway to the barn had to 
 be strengthened before the corn could be brought in. 
 The priest liked to have everything sound and in order 
 about the place and it was all one to us, seeing we 
 were paid by the day. But as time went on I grew 
 more and more impatient of my work-mate's company. 
 It was torture to me, for instance, to see him pick up 
 the loaf from the table, hold it close in to his chest, and 
 cut off a slice with a greasy pocket-knife that he was 
 always putting in his mouth. And then, again, he 
 would go all through the week, from Sunday to Sunday, 
 without a wash. And in the morning, before the sun 
 was up, and the evening, after it had gone, there was 
 always a shiny drop hanging from the tip of his nose. 
 And then his nails ! And as for his ears, they were 
 simply deformed. 
 
 Alas ! I was an upstart creature, that had learned 
 fine manners in the cafes in town. And since I could
 
 WANDERERS 1 5 
 
 not keep myself from telling my companion now and 
 then what I thought of his uncleanly ways, there grew 
 up a certain ill-feeling between us, and I feared we 
 should have to separate before long. As it was, we 
 hardly spoke now beyond what was needed. 
 
 And there was the well, as undug as ever. Sunday 
 came, and Grindhusen had gone home. 
 
 I had got my apparatus finished now, and in the 
 afternoon I climbed up to the roof of the main building 
 and set it up there. I saw at once that the sight cut 
 the hillside several metres below the top. Good. Even 
 reckoning a whole metre down to the water-level, there 
 would'still be pressure enough and to spare. 
 
 While I was busy up there the priest's son caught 
 sight of me. Harald Meltzer was his name. And what 
 was I doing up there ? Measuring the hill ; what for ? 
 What did I want to know the height for ? Would I 
 let him try? 
 
 Later on I got hold of a line ten metres long, and 
 measured the hill from foot to summit, with Harald to 
 help. When we came down to the house, I asked to 
 see the priest himself, and told him of my plan. 
 
 VI 
 
 The priest listened patiently, and did not reject the 
 idea at once. 
 
 "Really, now!" he said, with a smile. "Why, 
 perhaps you're right. But it will cost a lot of money. 
 And why should we trouble about it at all ? " 
 
 "It's seventy paces from the house to the well we 
 started to dig, Seventy steps for the maids to go 
 through mud and snow and all sorts, summer and 
 winter." 
 
 "That's true, yes. But this other way would cost a 
 terrible lot of money."
 
 1 6 WANDERERS 
 
 "Not counting the well that you'll have to have 
 in any case ; the whole installation, with work and 
 material, ought not to come to more than a couple of 
 hundred Kroner," said I. 
 
 The priest looked surprised. 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 1 waited a little each time before answering, as if I 
 were slow by nature, and born so. But, really, I had 
 thought out the whole thing beforehand. 
 
 " It would be a great convenience, that's true," said 
 the priest thoughtfully. "And that water-tub in the 
 kitchen does make a lot of mess." 
 
 "And it will save carrying water to the bedrooms 
 as well." 
 
 "The bedrooms are all upstairs. It won't help us 
 there, I'm afraid." 
 
 " We can run the pipes up to the first floor." 
 
 "Can we, though? Up to the bedrooms? Will 
 there be pressure enough for that, do you think?" 
 
 Here I waited longer than usual before answering, 
 as a stolid fellow, who did not undertake things 
 lightly. 
 
 " I think I can answer for a jet the height of the 
 roof," I said. 
 
 "Really, now!" exclaimed the priest. And then 
 again: "Come and let us see where you think of 
 digging the well." 
 
 We went up the hill, the priest, Harald, and I, and 
 I let the priest look through my instrument, and showed 
 him that there would be more than pressure enough. 
 
 " I must talk to the other man about it," he said. 
 
 But I cut out Grindhusen at once, and said : " Grind- 
 husen? He's no idea of this work at all." 
 
 The priest looked at me. 
 
 "Really?" he said.
 
 WANDERERS i 7 
 
 Then we went down again, the priest talking as if to 
 himself. 
 
 " Quite right ; yes. It's an endless business fetching 
 water in the winter. And summer, too, for that matter. 
 I must see what the women think about it." 
 
 And he went indoors. 
 
 After ten minutes or so, I was sent for round to the 
 front steps ; the whole family were there now. 
 
 "So you're the man who's going to give us water 
 laid on to the house?" said Fruen kindly. 
 
 I took off my cap and bowed in a heavy, stolid 
 fashion, and the priest answered for me : yes, this was 
 the man. 
 
 Fr0kenen gave me one curious glance, and then 
 started talking in an undertone to her brother. Fruen 
 went on with more questions would it really be a 
 proper water-supply like they had in town, just turn on 
 a tap and there was the water all ready? And for 
 upstairs as well? A couple of hundred Kroner? 
 "Really, I think you ought to say yes," she said to 
 her husband. 
 
 "You think so? Well, let's all go up to the top of 
 the hill and look through the thing and see." 
 
 We went up the hill, and I set the instrument for 
 them and let them look. 
 
 "Wonderful! " said Fruen. 
 
 But Frokenen said never a word. 
 
 The priest asked : 
 
 " But are you sure there's water here ? " 
 
 I answered carefully, as a man of sober judgment, 
 that it was not a thing to swear to beforehand, but 
 there was every sign of it. 
 
 " What sort of signs ? " asked Fruen. 
 
 " The nature of the ground. And you'll notice there's 
 willow and osiers growing about. And they like a 
 wet soil." 
 
 2
 
 1 8 WANDERERS 
 
 The priest nodded, and said : 
 
 ." He knows his business, Marie, you can see." 
 
 On the way back, Fruen had got so far as to argue 
 quite unwarrantably that she could manage with one 
 maid less once they'd water laid on. And not to fail 
 her, I put in : 
 
 " In summer at least you might. You could water 
 all the garden with a hose fixed to the tap and carried 
 out through the cellar window." 
 
 " Splendid ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 But I did not venture to speak of laying a pipe to the 
 cowshed. I had realised all the time that with a well 
 twice the size, and a branch pipe across the yard, the 
 dairymaid would be saved as much as the kitchen-maids 
 in the house. But it would cost nearly twice as much. 
 No, it was not wise to put forward so great a scheme. 
 
 Even as it was, I had to agree to wait till Grindhusen 
 came back. The priest said he wanted to sleep on it. 
 
 VII 
 
 So now I had to tell Grindhusen myself, and prepare 
 him for the new arrangement. And lest he should turn 
 suspicious, I threw all the blame on the priest, saying 
 it was his idea, but that I had backed him up. Grind- 
 husen had no objection ; he saw at once it meant more 
 work for us, since we should have the well to dig in 
 any case, and the bed for the pipes besides. 
 
 As luck would have it, the priest came out on 
 Monday morning, and said to Grindhusen half jestingly : 
 
 "Your mate here and I have decided to have the well 
 up on the hill, and lay down a pipe-line to the house. 
 What do you think of it ? A mad idea ? " 
 
 Grindhusen thought it was a first-rate idea. 
 
 But when we came to talk it over, and went up all 
 three to look at the site of the well, Grindhusen began
 
 WANDERERS 19 
 
 to suspect I'd had more to do with it than I had said. 
 We should have to lay the pipes deep down, he said, on 
 account of the frost. . . . 
 
 " One metre thirty's plenty," I said. 
 
 . . . and that it would cost a great deal of money. 
 
 "Your mate here said about a couple of hundred 
 Kroner in all," answered the priest. 
 
 Grindhusen had no idea of estimates at all, and could 
 only say : 
 
 " Well, well, two hundred Kroner's a deal of money, 
 anyway." 
 
 I said : 
 
 " It will mean so much less in Aabot when you move." 
 
 The priest looked at me in surprise. 
 
 "Aabot? But I'm not thinking of leaving the place," 
 he said. 
 
 " Why, then, you'll have the full use of it. And may 
 your reverence live to enjoy it for many a year," said I. 
 
 At this the priest stared at me, and asked : 
 
 " What is your name ? " 
 
 "Knut Pedersen." 
 
 " Where are you from ? " 
 
 "From Nordland." 
 
 But I understood why he had asked, and resolved 
 not to talk in that bookish way any more. 
 
 Anyhow, the well and the pipe-line were decided on, 
 and we set to work. . . . 
 
 The days that followed were pleasant enough. I 
 was not a little anxious at first as to whether we should 
 find water on the site, and I slept badly for some nights. 
 But once that fear was past, all that remained was 
 simple and straightforward work. There was water 
 enough ; after a couple of days we had to bale it out 
 with buckets every morning. It was clay lower down, 
 and our clothes were soon in a sorry state from the 
 work.
 
 20 WANDERERS 
 
 We dug for a week, and started the next getting out 
 stones to line the well.. This was work we were both 
 used to from the old days at Skreia. Then we put in 
 another week digging, and by that time we had carried 
 it deep enough. The bottom was soon so soft that we 
 had to begin on the stonework at once, lest the clay 
 walls should cave in on top of us. 
 
 So week after week passed, with digging and mining 
 and mason's work. It was a big well, and made a nice 
 job ; the priest was pleased with it. Grindhusen and I 
 began to get on better together ; and when he found 
 that I asked no more than a fair labourer's wage, 
 though much of the work was done under my directions, 
 he was inclined to do something for me in return, and 
 took more care about his table manners. Altogether, 
 I could not have wished for a happier time ; and nothing 
 on earth should ever persuade me to go back to town 
 life again ! 
 
 In the evenings I wandered about the woods, or in 
 the churchyard reading the inscriptions on the tomb- 
 stones, and thinking of this and that. Also, I was 
 looking about for a nail from some corpse. I wanted 
 a nail ; it was a fancy of mine, a little whim. I had 
 found a nice piece of birch-root that I wanted to carve 
 to a pipe-bowl in the shape of a clenched fist ; the 
 thumb was to act as a lid, and I wanted a nail to set 
 in, to make it specially lifelike. The ring finger was to 
 have a little gold ring bent round. 
 
 Thinking of such trifles kept my mind calm and at 
 ease. There was no hurry now for me about anything 
 in life. I could dream as I pleased, having nothing 
 else to do ; the evenings were my own. If possible, 
 too, I would see and arrive at some feeling of respect 
 for the sacredness of the church and terror of the dead ; 
 I had still a memory of that rich mysticism from days 
 now far, far behind, and wished I could have some
 
 WANDERERS 2 1 
 
 share in it again. Now, perhaps, when I found that 
 nail, there would come a voice from the tombs : " That 
 is mine ! " and I would drop the thing in horror, and 
 take to my heels and run. 
 
 /'I wish that vane up there wouldn't creak so," 
 Grindhusen would say at times. 
 
 " Are you afraid ? " 
 
 " Well, not properly afraid ; no. But it gives you a 
 creeping feeling now and then to think of all the corpses 
 lying there so near." 
 
 Happy man ! 
 
 One day Harald showed me how to plant pine cones 
 and little bushes. I'd no idea of that sort of work 
 before ; we didn't learn it in the days when I was at 
 school. But now I'd seen the way of it, I went about 
 planting busily on Sundays ; and, in return, I taught 
 Harald one or two little things that were new to him at 
 his age, and got to be friends with him. 
 
 VIII 
 
 And all might have been well if it had not been for 
 Frokenen, the daughter of the house. I grew fonder 
 of her every day. Her name was Elischeba, Elisabeth. 
 No remarkable beauty, perhaps ; but she had red lips, 
 and a blue, girlish glance that made her pretty to see. 
 Elischeba, Elisabeth a child at the first dawn of life, 
 with eyes looking out upon the world. She spoke one 
 evening with young Erik from the neighbouring guard, 
 and her eyes were full of sweetness and of something 
 ripening. 
 
 It was all very well for Grindhusen. He had gone 
 ravening after the girls when he was young, and he 
 still spanked about with his hat on one side, out of 
 habit. But he was quiet and tame enough now, as 
 well he might be 'tis nature's way. But some there
 
 22 WANDERERS 
 
 are who would not follow nature's way, and be tamed ; 
 and how shall it fare with them at last? And then 
 there was little Elisabeth ; and she was none so little 
 after all, but as tall as her mother. And she'd her 
 mother's high breast. . . . 
 
 Since that first Sunday they had not asked me in to 
 coffee in the kitchen, and I took care myself they 
 should not, but kept out of the way. I was still 
 ashamed of the recollection. But then, at last, in the 
 middle of the week, one of the maids came with a 
 message that I was not to go running off into the 
 woods every Sunday afternoon, but come to coffee with 
 the rest. Fruen herself had said so. 
 
 Good! 
 
 Now, should I put on my best clothes or not? No 
 harm, perhaps, in letting that young lady get into her 
 head that I was one who had chosen to turn my back 
 upon the life of cities, and take upon myself the guise 
 of a servant, for all I was a man of parts, that could 
 lay on water to a house. But when I had dressed, I 
 felt myself that my working clothes were better suited 
 to me now ; I took off my best things again, and hid 
 them carefully in my bag. 
 
 But, as it happened, it was not Frokenen at all who 
 received me on that Sunday afternoon, but Fruen. 
 She talked to me for quite a while, and she had spread 
 a little white cloth under my cup. 
 
 " That trick of yours with the egg is likely to cost us 
 something before we've done with it," said Fruen, with 
 a kindly laugh. "The boy's used up half a dozen eggs 
 already." 
 
 I had taught Harald the trick of passing a hard- 
 boiled egg with the shell off through the neck of a 
 decanter, by thinning the air inside. It was about the 
 only experiment in physics that I knew. 
 
 "But that one with breaking the stick in the two
 
 WANDERERS 23 
 
 paper loops was really interesting," Fruen went on. 
 " I don't understand that sort of thing myself, but . . . 
 When will the well be done ? " 
 
 "The well is done. We're going to start on the 
 trench to-morrow." 
 
 "And how long will that take to do?" 
 
 "About a week. Then the man can come and lay 
 the pipes." 
 
 "No! really?" 
 
 I said my thanks and went out. Fruen had a way 
 she had kept, no doubt, from earlier years ; now and 
 again she would glance at one sideways, though there 
 was nothing the least bit artful in what she said. . . . 
 
 Now the woods showed a yellowing leaf here and 
 there, and earth and air began to smell of autumn. 
 Only the fungus growths were now at their best, 
 shooting up everywhere, and flourishing fine and thick 
 on woolly stems milk mushrooms, and the common 
 sort, and the brown. Here and there a toadstool 
 thrust up its speckled top, flaming its red all unashamed. 
 A wonderful thing! Here it is growing on the same 
 spot as the edible sorts, fed by the same soil, given sun 
 and rain from heaven the same as they ; rich and lirm 
 it is, and good to eat, save, only, that it is full ot 
 impertinent muscarin. I once thought of making up a 
 fine old story about the toadstool, and saying I had 
 read it in a book. 
 
 It has always been a pleasure to me to watch the 
 flowers and insects in their struggle to keep alive. 
 When the sun was hot they would come to life again, 
 and give themselves up for an hour or so to the old 
 delight ; the big, strong flies were just as much alive 
 as in midsummer. There was a peculiar sort of earth- 
 bug here that I had not seen before little yellow 
 things, no bigger than a small-type comma, yet they 
 could jump several thousand times their own length.
 
 24 WANDERERS 
 
 Think of the strength of such a body in proportion to 
 its size ! There is a tiny spider here with its hinder 
 part like a pale yellow pearl. And the pearl is so heavy 
 that the creature has to clamber up a stalk of grass 
 back downwards. When it comes upon an obstacle 
 the pearl cannot pass, it simply drops straight down 
 and starts to climb another. Now, a little pearl-spider 
 like that is not just a spider and no more. If I hold 
 out a leaf towards it to help it to its footing on a floor, 
 it fumbles about for a while on the leaf, and thinks to 
 itself: " H'm, something wrong about this ! " and backs 
 away again, refusing to be in any way entrapped on to 
 a floor. . . . 
 
 Someone calls me by name from down in the wood. 
 It is Harald ; he has started a Sunday school with me. 
 He gave me a lesson out of Pontoppidan to learn, and 
 now I'm to be heard. It is touching to be taught 
 religion now as I should have taught it myself when I 
 was a child. 
 
 IX 
 
 The well was finished, the trench was dug, and the 
 man had come to lay the pipes. He chose Grindhusen 
 to help him with the work, and I was set to cutting a 
 way for the pipes up from the cellar through the two 
 floors of the house. 
 
 Fruen came down one day when I was busy in the 
 cellar. I called out to her to mind the hole in the floor ; 
 but she took it very calmly. 
 
 "There's no hole there, now, is there?" she asked, 
 pointing one way. "Or there?" But at last she 
 missed her footing after all, and slipped down into the 
 hole where I was. And there we stood. It was not 
 light there anyway ; and for her, coming straight in 
 from the daylight outside, it must have seemed quite 
 dark. She felt about the edge, and said :
 
 WANDERERS 25 
 
 "Now, how am I to get up again? " 
 
 I lifted her up. It was no matter to speak of ; she 
 was slight of figure, for all she had a big girl of her 
 own. 
 
 "Well, I must say . . ." She stood shaking the 
 earth from her dress. " One, two, three, and up ! as 
 neatly as could be. . . . Look here, I'd like you to 
 help me with something upstairs one day, will you ? I 
 want to move some things. Only we must wait till a 
 day when my husband's over at the annexe ; he doesn't 
 like my changing things about. How long will it be 
 before you've finished all there is to do here ? " 
 
 I mentioned a time, a week or thereabout. 
 
 " And where are you going then ? " 
 
 "To the farm just by. Grindhusen's fixed it up for 
 us to go and dig potatoes there. ..." 
 
 Then came the work in the kitchen ; I had to saw 
 through the floor there. Froken Elisabeth came in 
 once or twice while I was there ; it could hardly have 
 been otherwise, seeing it was the kitchen. And for all 
 her dislike of me, she managed to say a word or two, 
 and stand looking at the work a little. 
 
 "Only fancy, Oline," she said to the maid, "when 
 it's all done, and you'll only have to turn on a tap." 
 
 But Oline, who was old, did not look anyways 
 delighted. It was like going against Providence, she 
 said, to go sending water through a pipe right into the 
 house. She'd carried all the water she'd a use for these 
 twenty years ; what was she to do now ? 
 
 " Take a rest," said I. 
 
 " Rest, indeed ! We're made to work, I take it, not 
 to rest." 
 
 "And sew things against the time you get married," 
 said Froken Elisabeth, with a smile. 
 
 It was only girlish talk, but I was grateful to her for 
 taking a little part in the talk with us, and staying
 
 26 WANDERERS 
 
 there for a while. And heavens, how I did try to 
 behave, and talk smartly and sensibly, showing off like 
 a boy. I remember it still. Then suddenly Froken 
 Elisabeth seemed to remember it wasn't proper for her 
 to stay out here with us any longer, and so she went. 
 
 That evening I went up to the churchyard, as I 
 had done so many times before, but seeing Frokenen 
 already there, I turned away, and took myself off into 
 the woods. And afterwards I thought : now she will 
 surely be touched by my humility, and think : poor 
 fellow, he showed real delicacy in that. And the next 
 thing, of course, was to imagine her coming after me. 
 I would get up from the stone where I was sitting, and 
 give a greeting. Then she would be a little embar- 
 rassed, and say: "I was just going for a walk it's 
 such a lovely evening what are you doing here ? " 
 "Just sitting here," say I, with innocent eyes, as if 
 my thoughts had been far away. And when she hears 
 that I was just sitting there in the late of the even- 
 ing, she must realise that I am a dreamer and a soul 
 of unknown depth, and then she falls in love with 
 me. . . . 
 
 She was in the churchyard again the following even- 
 ing, and a thought of high conceit flew suddenly into 
 my mind : it was myself she came to see ! But, watch- 
 ing her more closely, I saw that she was busy, doing 
 something about a grave, so it was not me she had 
 come for. I stole away up to the big ant-heap in the 
 wood and watched the insects as long as I could see ; 
 afterwards, I sat listening to the falling cones and 
 clusters of rowan berries. I hummed a tune, and 
 whispered to myself and thought ; now and again I had 
 to get up and walk a little to get warm. The hours 
 passed, the night came on, and I was so in love I 
 walked there bare-headed, letting myself be stared out 
 of all countenance by the stars.
 
 WANDERERS 27 
 
 " How's the time?" Grindhus"en might ask when I 
 came back to the barn. 
 
 "Just gone eleven," I would say, though it might 
 be two or three in the morning. 
 
 "Huh! And a nice time to be coming to bed. 
 Fansmagt! Waking folk up when they've been sleep- 
 ing decently ! " 
 
 And Grindhusen turns over on the other side, to fall 
 asleep again in a moment. There was no trouble with 
 Grindhusen. 
 
 Eyah, it's over-foolish of a man to fall in love when 
 he's getting on in years. And who was it set out to 
 show there was a way to quiet and peace of mind ? 
 
 X 
 
 A man came out for his bricklayer's tools ; he wanted 
 them back. What? Then Grindhusen had not stolen 
 them at all ! But it was always the same with Grind- 
 husen : commonplace, dull, and ordinary, never great 
 in anything, never a lofty mind. 
 
 I said : 
 
 "You, Grindhusen, there's nothing in you but eat 
 and sleep and work. Here's a man come for those 
 tools now. So you only borrowed them ; that's all 
 you're good for. I wouldn't be you for anything." 
 
 " Don't be a fool," said Grindhusen. 
 
 He was offended now, but I got him round again, as 
 I had done so many times before, by pretending I had 
 only spoken in jest. 
 
 "What are we to do now?" he asked. 
 
 " You'll manage it all right," said I. 
 
 "Manage it will I?" 
 
 "Yes, or I am much mistaken." 
 
 And Grindhusen was pacified once more. 
 
 But at the midday rest, when I was cutting his hair,
 
 28 WANDERERS 
 
 I put him out of temper once again by suggesting he 
 should wash his head. 
 
 "A man of your age ought to know better than to 
 talk such stuff," he said. 
 
 And Heaven knows but he may have been right. 
 His red thatch of hair was thick as ever, for all he'd 
 grandchildren of his own. . . . 
 
 Now what was coming to that barn of ours ? Were 
 spirits about ? Who had been in there one day suddenly 
 and cleaned the place and made all comfortable and 
 neat ? Grindhusen and I had each our own bedplace ; 
 I had bought a couple of rugs, but he turned in every 
 night fully dressed, with all he stood up in, and curled 
 himself up in the hay all anyhow. And now here were 
 my two rugs laid neatly, looking for all the world like 
 a bed. I'd nothing against it ; 'twas one of the maids, 
 no doubt, setting to teach me neat and orderly ways. 
 'Twas all one to me. 
 
 I was ready now to start cutting through the floor 
 upstairs, but Fruen begged me to leave it to next 
 day ; her husband would be going over to the annexe, 
 and that way I shouldn't disturb him. But next morn- 
 ing we had to put it off again ; Froken Elisabeth was 
 going in to the store to buy no end of things, and I was 
 to go with her and carry them. 
 
 "Good," said I, " I'll come on after." 
 
 Strange girl ! had she thought to put up with my 
 company on the way ? She said : 
 
 " But do you think you can find the way alone? " 
 
 " Surely ; I've been there before. It's where we buy 
 our things." 
 
 Now, I couldn't well walk through all the village in 
 my working things all messed up with clay : I put on 
 my best trousers, but kept my blouse on over. So I 
 walked on behind. It was a couple of miles or more ; 
 the last part of the way I caught sight of Froken
 
 WANDERERS 29 
 
 Elisabeth on ahead now and again, but I took care not 
 to come up close. Once she looked round, and at that 
 I made myself utterly small, and kept to the fringe of 
 the wood. 
 
 Fr0ken Elisabeth stayed behind with some girl friend 
 after she had done her shopping ; I carried the things 
 back to the vicarage, getting in about noon, and was 
 asked in to dinner in the kitchen. The house seemed 
 deserted. Harald was away, the maids were wringing 
 clothes, only Oline was busy in the kitchen. 
 
 After dinner, I went upstairs, and started sawing in 
 the passage. 
 
 "Come and lend me a hand here, will you?" said 
 Fruen, walking on in front of me. 
 
 We passed by her husband's study and into the 
 bedroom. 
 
 "I want my bed moved," said Fruen. "It's too 
 near the stove in winter, and I can't stand the heat." 
 
 We moved the bed over to the window. 
 
 " It'll be nicer here, don't you think? Cooler," said 
 she. 
 
 And, happening to glance at her, I saw she was 
 watching me with that queer, sideways look. . . . Ey 
 . . . And in a moment I was all flesh and blood and 
 foolishness. I heard her say : 
 
 "Are you mad? Oh no, dear, please . . . the 
 door . . ." 
 
 Then I heard my name whispered again and again. . . . 
 
 I sawed through the floor in the passage, and got 
 everything done. Fruen was there all the time. She 
 was so eager to talk, to explain, and laughing and 
 crying all the time. 
 
 I said: 
 
 "That picture that was hanging over your bed 
 wouldn't it be as well to move that too ? " 
 
 " Ye es, perhaps it would," said Fruen.
 
 30 WANDERERS 
 
 XI 
 
 Now all the pipes were laid, and the taps fixed ; the 
 water spurted out in the sink in a fine, powerful jet. 
 Grindhusen had borrowed the tools we needed from 
 somewhere else, so we could plaster up a few holes left 
 here and there ; a couple of days more, and we had 
 filled in the trench down the hillside, and our work at 
 the vicaragfe was done. The priest was pleased with 
 us ; he offered to stick up a notice on the red post 
 saying we were experts in the business of wells and 
 pipes and water-supply, but, seeing it was so late in 
 the year, and the frost might set in any time, it wouldn't 
 have helped us much. We begged him instead to bear 
 us in mind next spring. 
 
 Then we went over to the neighbouring farm to dig 
 potatoes, promising to look in at the vicarage again 
 some time. 
 
 There were many hands at work on the new place ; 
 we divided up into gangs and were merry enough. 
 But the work would barely last over a week ; after 
 that we should have to shift again. 
 
 One evening the priest came over and offered to take 
 me on as an outdoor hand at the vicarage. It was a 
 nice offer, and I thought about it for a while, but 
 ended by saying no. I would rather wander about and 
 be my own master, doing such work as I could find 
 here and there, sleeping in the open, and finding a 
 trifle to wonder at in myself. I had come across a 
 man here in the potato fields that I might join com- 
 pany with when Grindhusen was gone. This new man 
 was a fellow after my own mind, and from what I had 
 heard and seen of him a good worker ; Lars Falkberget 
 was his name, wherefore he called himself Falkenberg. 1 
 
 1 The latter name has a more distinguished sound than the 
 native and rustic "Falkberget."
 
 WANDERERS 3 1 
 
 Young Erik was foreman and overseer in charge of 
 the potato diggers, and carted in the crop. He was a 
 handsome lad of twenty, steady and sound for his age, 
 and a proper son of the house. There was something 
 no doubt between him and Froken Elisabeth from 
 the vicarage, seeing she came over one day and 
 stood talking with him out in the fields for quite 
 a while. When she was leaving, she found a few 
 words for me as well, saying Oline was beginning 
 to get used to the new contrivances of water-pipes 
 and tap. 
 
 "And yourself?" I asked. 
 
 Out of politeness, she made some little answer to 
 this also, but I could see she had no wish to stay 
 talking to me. 
 
 So prettily dressed she was, with a new light cloak 
 that went so well with her blue eyes. . . . 
 
 Next day Erik met with an accident ; his horse 
 bolted, dragging him across the fields and throwing 
 him up against a fence at last. He was badly mauled, 
 and spitting blood ; a few hours later, when he had 
 come to himself a little, he was still spitting blood. 
 Falkenberg was now set to drive. 
 
 I feigned to be distressed at what had happened, and 
 went about silent and gloomy as the rest, but I did not 
 feel so. I had no hope of Froken Elisabeth for myself, 
 indeed ; still, I was rid of one that stood above me in 
 her favour. 
 
 That evening I went over to the churchyard and sat 
 there a while. If only she would come, I thought to 
 myself. And after a quarter of an hour she came. I 
 got up suddenly, entirely as I had planned, made as if 
 to slip away and hide, then I stopped, stood helplessly 
 and surrendered. But here all my schemes and plans 
 forsook me, and I was all weakness at having her so 
 near ; I began to speak of something.
 
 32 WANDERERS 
 
 " Erik to think it should have happened and that, 
 yesterday ..." 
 
 " I know about it," she answered. 
 
 "He was badly hurt." 
 
 "Yes, yes, of course, he was badly hurt why do 
 you talk to me about him ? " 
 
 " I thought . . . No, I don't know. But, anyhow, 
 he'll get better. And then it will be all right again, 
 surely." 
 
 "Yes, yes . . ." 
 
 Pause. 
 
 It sounded as if she had been making fun of me. 
 Then suddenly she said with a smile : 
 
 " What a strange fellow you are ! What makes you 
 walk all that way to come and sit here of an evening ? " 
 
 "It's just a little habit I've got lately. For some- 
 thing to do till bedtime." 
 
 " Then you're not afraid ? " 
 
 Her jesting tone gave me courage ; I felt myself on 
 surer ground, and answered : 
 
 " No, that's just the trouble. I wanted to learn to 
 shiver and shake." 
 
 "Learn to shiver and shake? Like the boy in the 
 fairy tale. Now where did you read about that, I 
 wonder? " 
 
 " I don't know. In some book or other, I suppose." 
 
 Pause. 
 
 " Why wouldn't you come and work for us when 
 Father asked you ? " 
 
 "I'd be no good at that sort of work. I'm going 
 out on the roads now with another man." 
 
 "Which way are you going?" 
 
 "That I cannot say. East or west. We are just 
 wanderers." 
 
 Pause. 
 
 "I'm sorry, "she said. "I mean, I don't think it's wise
 
 WANDERERS 33 
 
 of you. . . . Oh, but what was it you said about 
 Erik? I only came to ask about him. . . ." 
 " He's in a baddish way now, but still ..." 
 " Does the doctor think he will get better? " 
 " Yes, as far as I know. I've not heard otherwise." 
 "Well good-night." 
 
 Oh to be young and rich and handsome, and famous 
 and learned in sciences ! . . . There she goes. . . . 
 
 Before leaving the churchyard I found a serviceable 
 thumbnail and put it in my pocket. I waited a little, 
 peering this way and that, and listening, but all was 
 still. No voice came saying, " That's mine ! " 
 
 XII 
 
 Falkenberg and I set out. It is evening ; cool air 
 and a lofty sky with stars lighting up. I persuaded 
 him to go round by way of the churchyard ; in my 
 foolishness I wished to go that way, to see if there 
 should be light in one little window down at the 
 vicarage. Oh to be young and rich and . . . 
 
 We walked some hours, having but little weight to 
 carry, and, moreover, we were two wanderers still a 
 little strange each to the other, so we could talk a little. 
 We passed by the first trading station, and came to 
 another ; we could see the tower of the annexe church 
 in the evening light. 
 
 From sheer habit I would have gone into the church- 
 yard here as well. I said : 
 
 " What do you think? We might find a place here 
 for the night ? " 
 
 " No sense on earth in that," said Falkenberg, 
 "when there's hay in every barn along the road. 
 And if we're turned out, there'll be shelter in the 
 woods." 
 
 And we went on again, Falkenberg leading. 
 3
 
 34 WANDERERS 
 
 He was a man of something over thirty. Tall and 
 well-built, but with a slight stoop ; his long moustaches 
 rounded downwards. He was short of speech for the 
 most, quick-witted and kindly ; also he had a splendid 
 voice for songs ; a different sort from Grindhusen in 
 every way. And when he spoke he used odd words 
 from different local dialects, with a touch of Swedish 
 here and there ; no one could tell what part he came 
 from. 
 
 We came to a farmstead where the dogs barked, and 
 folk were still about. Falkenberg asked to see the 
 man. A young lad came out. 
 
 Had he any work for us ? 
 
 No. 
 
 But the fence there along by the road was all to 
 pieces, if we couldn't mend that, now? 
 
 No. Man himself had nothing else to do this time 
 of the year. 
 
 Could they give us shelter for the night ? 
 
 Very sorry, but . . . 
 
 Not in the barn ? 
 
 No, the girls were still sleeping there. 
 
 "Swine," muttered Falkenberg, as we moved away. 
 
 We turned in through a little wood, keeping a look- 
 out now for a likely place to sleep. 
 
 "Suppose we went back to the farm now to the 
 girls in the barn? Like as not they wouldn't turn 
 us out." 
 
 Falkenberg thought for a moment. 
 
 " The dogs will make a row," he said. 
 
 We came out into a field where two horses were 
 loose. One had a bell at its neck. 
 
 "Nice fellow this," said Falkenberg, "with his 
 horses still out and his womenfolk still sleeping in the 
 barn. It'd be doing these poor beasts a good turn to 
 ride them a bit."
 
 WANDERERS 35 
 
 He caught the belled horse, stuffed its bell with grass 
 and moss, and got on its back. My beast was shy, 
 and I had a deal of trouble to get hold of it. 
 
 We rode across the field, found a gate, and came out 
 on to the road. We had each one of my rugs to sit on, 
 but neither had a bridle. 
 
 Still, we managed well enough, managed excellently 
 well ; we rode close on five miles, and came to another 
 village. Suddenly we heard someone ahead along 
 the road. 
 
 "Better take it at a gallop," said Falkenberg over 
 his shoulder. " Come along." 
 
 But Falkenberg was no marvel of a horseman, for all 
 his leg ; he clutched the bell-strap first, then slithered 
 forward and hung on with both arms round the horse's 
 neck. I caught a glimpse of one of his legs against the 
 sky as he fell off. 
 
 Fortunately, there was no great danger waiting us 
 after all ; only a young couple out sweethearting. 
 
 Another half-hour's riding, and we were both of us 
 stiff and sore. We got down, turned the horses' faces 
 to home, and drove them off. And now we were foot- 
 passengers once more. 
 
 Gakgak, gakgak the sound came from somewhere 
 far off. I knew it well ; it was the grey goose. When 
 we were children, we were taught to clasp our hands 
 and stand quite still, lest we should frighten the grey 
 goose as it passed. No harm in that ; no harm in 
 doing so now. And so I do. A quiet sense of mystery 
 steals through me ; I hold my breath and gaze. There 
 it comes, the sky trailing behind it like the wake of 
 a ship. Gakgak) high overhead. And the splendid 
 ploughshare glides along beneath the stars. . . . 
 
 We found a barn at last, at a farmstead where all 
 was still, and there we slept some hours. They found 
 us there next morning sound asleep.
 
 36 WANDERERS 
 
 Falkenberg went up to the farmer at once and offered 
 to pay for our lodging. We had come in late the night 
 before, he explained, and didn't like to wake folk out of 
 their beds, but we were no runaways for all that. The 
 man would not take our money ; instead he gave us 
 coffee in the kitchen. But he had no work for us ; the 
 harvest was in, and he and his lad had nothing to do 
 themselves now but mend their fences here and there. 
 
 XIII 
 
 We tramped three days and found no work, but had 
 to pay for our food and drink, getting poorer every day. 
 
 " How much have you got left, and how much have 
 I got left ? We'll never get any great way at this rate," 
 said Falkenberg. And he threw out a hint that we'd 
 soon have to try a little stealing. 
 
 We talked it over a bit, and agreed to wait and see 
 how things turned out. Food was no difficulty, we 
 could always get hold of a fowl or so at a pinch. But 
 ready money was the thing we really needed, and that 
 we'd have to get. If we couldn't manage it one way, 
 we'd have to manage another. We didn't set up to be 
 angels. 
 
 " I'm no angel out of heaven alive," said Falkenberg. 
 " Here am I now, sitting around in my best clothes, 
 and they no better than another man's workaday things. 
 I can give them a wash in a stream, and sit and wait 
 till they're dry ; if there's a hole I mend it, and if I 
 chance to earn a bit extra some day, I can get some 
 more. And that's the end of it." 
 
 " But young Erik said you were a beggar to 
 drink." 
 
 "That young cock. Drink well, of course I do. 
 No sense in only eating. . . . Let's look about for a 
 place where there's a piano," said Falkenberg.
 
 WANDERERS 37 
 
 I thought to myself: a piano on a place means well- 
 to-do folk ; that's where he is going" to start stealing. 
 
 In the afternoon we came to just such a place. 
 Falkenberg had put on my town clothes beforehand, 
 and given me his sack to carry, so he could walk in 
 easily, with an air. He went straight up to the front 
 steps, and I lost sight of him for a bit ; then he came 
 out again and said yes, he was going to tune their 
 piano. 
 
 "Going to what?" 
 
 "You be quiet," said Falkenberg. "I've done it 
 before, though I don't go bragging about it every- 
 where." 
 
 He fished out a piano-tuner's key from his sack, and 
 I saw he was in earnest. 
 
 I was ordered to keep near the place while he was 
 tuning. 
 
 Well, I wandered about to pass the time ; every now 
 and then coming round to the south side of the house, 
 I could hear Falkenberg at work on the piano in the 
 parlour, and forcibly he dealt with it. He could not 
 strike a decent chord, but he had a good ear ; whenever 
 he screwed up a string, he was careful to screw it back 
 again exactly where it was before, so the instrument at 
 any rate was none the worse. 
 
 I got into talk with one of the farm-hands, a young 
 lad. He got two hundred Kroner a year, he said, 
 besides his board. Up at half-past six in the morning 
 to feed the horses, or half-past five in the busy season. 
 Work all day, till eight in the evening. But he was 
 healthily content with his life in that little world. I 
 remember his fine, strong set of teeth, and his pleasant 
 smile as he spolre of his girl. He had given her a 
 silver ring with a gold heart on the front. 
 
 " And what did she say to that ? " 
 
 " Well, she was all of a wonder, you may be sure."
 
 38 WANDERERS 
 
 " And what did you say ? " 
 
 " What I said? Why, I don't know. Said I hoped 
 she'd like it and welcome. I'd like to have given her 
 stuff for a dress as well, but . . ." 
 
 " Is she young?" 
 
 "Why, yes. Talk away like a little jews' harp. 
 Young I should think so." 
 
 " And where does she live ? " 
 
 "Ah, that I won't say. They'd know it all over the 
 village if I did." 
 
 And there I stood like another Alexander, so sure of 
 the world, and half contemptuous of this boy and his 
 poor little life. When we went away, I gave him one 
 of my rugs ; it was too much of a weight to go carrying 
 two. He said at once he would give it to his girl ; she 
 would be glad of a nice warm rug. 
 
 And Alexander said : If I were not myself I would 
 be you. . . . 
 
 When Falkenberg had finished and came out, he was 
 grown so elegant in his manners all at once, and talked 
 in such a delicate fashion, I could hardly understand 
 him. The daughter of the house came out with him. 
 We were to pass on without delay, he said, to the 
 farm adjacent ; there was a piano there which needed 
 some slight attention. And so " Farvel, Fr0ken, 
 Farvel." 
 
 "Six Kroner, my boy," he whispered in my ear. 
 " And another six at the next place, that's twelve." 
 
 So off we went, and I carried our things. 
 
 XIV 
 
 Falkenberg was right ; the people at the next farm 
 would not be outdone by their neighbours ; their piano 
 must be seen to as well. The daughter of the house 
 was away for the moment, but the work could be done
 
 WANDERERS 39 
 
 in her absence as a little surprise for her when she came 
 home. She had often complained that the piano was 
 so dreadfully out of tune it was impossible to play on it 
 at all. So now I was left to myself again as before, 
 while Falkenberg was busy in the parlour. When it 
 got dark he had lights brought in and went on tuning. 
 He had his supper in there too, and when he had 
 finished, he came out and asked me for his pipe. 
 
 "Which pipe? " 
 
 " You fool ! the one with the clenched fist, of course." 
 
 Somewhat unwillingly I handed him my neatly carved 
 pipe ; I had just got it finished, with the nail set in and 
 a gold ring, and a long stem. 
 
 " Don't let the nail get too hot," I whispered, " or it 
 might curl up." 
 
 Falkenberg lit the pipe and went swaggering up with 
 it indoors. But he put in a word for me too, and got 
 them to give me supper and coffee in the kitchen. 
 
 I found a place to sleep in the barn. 
 
 I woke up in the night, and there was Falkenberg 
 standing close by, and calling me by name. The full 
 moon shone right in, and I could see his face. 
 
 "What's the matter now?" 
 
 " Here's your pipe. Here you are, man, take it." 
 
 "Pipe?" 
 
 "Yes, your pipe. I won't have the thing about me 
 another minute. Look at it the nail's all coming 
 loose." 
 
 I took the pipe, and saw the nail had begun to curl 
 away from the wood. Said Falkenberg : 
 
 "The beastly thing was looking at me with a sort 
 of nasty grin in the moonlight. And then when I 
 remembered where you'd got that nail . . ." 
 
 Happy Falkenberg ! 
 
 Next morning when we were ready to start off again, 
 the daughter of the house had come home. We heard
 
 40 WANDERERS 
 
 her thumping out a waltz on the piano, and a little 
 after she came out and said : 
 
 " It's made no end of difference with the piano. 
 Thank you very much." 
 
 " I hope you may find it satisfactory," said the piano- 
 tuner grandly. 
 
 "Yes, indeed. There's quite a different tone in it 
 now." 
 
 "And is there anywhere else Frokenen could recom- 
 mend . . .?" 
 
 "Ask the people at 0vrebo ; Falkenberg's the name." 
 
 " Falkenberg. Go straight on from here, and you'll 
 come to a post on the right-hand side about a mile and 
 a half along. Turn off there and that'll take you to it." 
 
 At that Falkenberg sat down plump at the steps and 
 began asking all sorts of questions about the Falken- 
 bergs at 0vrebo. Only to think he should come across 
 his kinsmen here, and find himself, as it were, at home 
 again. He was profusely grateful for the information. 
 "Thanks most sincerely, Froken." 
 
 Then we went on our way again, and I carried the 
 things. 
 
 Once in the wood we sat down to talk over what was 
 to be done. Was it advisable, after all, for a Falken- 
 berg of the rank of piano-tuner to go walking up to the 
 Captain at Ovrebo and claim relationship? I was the 
 more timid, and ended by making Falkenberg himself a 
 little shy of it. On the other hand, it might be a merry 
 jest. 
 
 Hadn't he any papers with his name on ? Certificates 
 of some sort ? 
 
 "Yes, but for Fan, there's nothing in them except 
 saying I'm a reliable workman." 
 
 We cast about for some way of altering the papers a 
 little, but finally agreed it would be better to make a new
 
 WANDERERS 41 
 
 one altogether. We might do one for unsurpassed 
 proficiency in piano-tuning and put in the Christian 
 name as Leopold instead of Lars. 1 There was no limit 
 to what we could do in that way. 
 
 " Think you can write out that certificate ? " he asked. 
 
 "Yes, that I can." 
 
 But now that wretched brain of mine began playing 
 tricks, and making the whole thing ridiculous. A 
 piano-tuner wasn't enough, I thought ; no, make him 
 a mechanical genius, a man who had solved most 
 intricate problems, an inventor with a factory of his 
 own. . . . 
 
 "Then I wouldn't need to go about waving certifi- 
 cates," said Falkenberg, and refused to listen any 
 more. No, the whole thing looked like coming to 
 nothing after all. 
 
 Downcast and discouraged both, we tramped on till 
 we came to the post. 
 
 " You're not going up, are you? " I asked. 
 
 "You can go yourself," said Falkenberg sourly. 
 " Here, take your rags of things." 
 
 But a little way farther on he slackened his pace, 
 and muttered : 
 
 " It's a wicked shame to throw away a chance like 
 that. Why, it's just cut out for us as it is." 
 
 "Well, then, why don't you go up and pay them 
 a call? Who knows, you might be some relation 
 after all." 
 
 "I wish I'd thought to ask if he'd a nephew in 
 America." 
 
 "What then? Could you talk English to them if 
 he had ? " 
 
 "You mind your own business, and don't talk so 
 much," said Falkenberg. " I don't see what you've 
 got to brag about, anyway." 
 
 1 Again substituting an aristocratic for a rustic name.
 
 42 WANDERERS 
 
 He was nervous and out of temper, and began 
 stepping out. Then suddenly he stopped and said : 
 
 " I'll do it. Lend me that pipe of yours again. I 
 won't light it." 
 
 We walked up the hill, Falkenberg putting on 
 mighty airs, pointing this way and that with the pipe 
 and criticising Jie place. It annoyed me somewhat 
 to see him stalking along in that vainglorious fashion 
 while I carried the load. I said : 
 
 " Going to be a piano-tuner this time? " 
 
 "I think I've shown I can tune a piano," he said 
 shortly. " I am good for that at any rate." 
 
 " But suppose there's someone in the house knows 
 all about it Fruen, for instance and tries the piano 
 after you've done ? " 
 
 Falkenberg was silent. I could see he was growing 
 doubtful again. Little by little his lordly gait sank to 
 a slouching walk. 
 
 "Perhaps we better not," he said. "Here, take 
 your pipe. We'll just go up and simply ask for work." 
 
 XV 
 
 As it happened, there was a chance for us to make 
 ourselves useful the moment we came on the place. 
 They were getting up a new flagstaff, and were short 
 of hands. We set to work and got it up in fine style. 
 There was a crowd of women looking on from the 
 window. 
 
 Was Captain Falkenberg at home ? 
 
 No. 
 
 Or Fruen? 
 
 Fruen came out. She was tall and fair, and friendly 
 as a young foal ; and she answered our greeting in the 
 kindliest way. 
 
 Had she any work for us now ?
 
 WANDERERS 43 
 
 " Well, I don't know. I don't think so really, not 
 while my husband's away." 
 
 I had an idea she found it hard to say no, and 
 touched my cap and was turning away, not to trouble 
 her any more. But she must have found something 
 strange about Falkenberg, coming up like that wearing 
 decent clothes, and with a man to carry his things ; 
 she looked at him inquisitively and asked : 
 
 "What sort of work?" 
 
 "Any kind of outdoor work," said Falkenberg. 
 "We can take on hedging and ditching, bricklayer's 
 work ..." 
 
 "Getting late in the year for that sort," put in one 
 of the men by the flagstaff. 
 
 "Yes, I suppose it is," Fruen agreed. "I don't 
 know. . . . Anyhow, it's just dinner-time ; if you'd 
 like to go in and get something to eat meanwhile. 
 Such as it is." 
 
 "Thank you kindly," answered Falkenberg. 
 
 Now, that seemed to my mind a poor and vulgar 
 way to speak ; I felt he shamed us both in answering 
 so, and it distressed me. So I must put in a word 
 myself. 
 
 " Mille graces, Madame; vous etes trop amiable" 1 
 said gallantly, and took off my cap. 
 
 Fruen turned round and stared at me in astonish- 
 ment ; the look on her face was comical to see. 
 
 We were shown into the kitchen and given an 
 excellent meal. Fruen went indoors. When we had 
 finished, ! and were starting off, she came out again ; 
 Falkenberg had got back his courage now, and, 
 taking advantage of her kindness, offered to tune 
 the piano. 
 
 " Can you tune pianos too? " she asked, in surprise. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; I tuned the one on the farm down 
 below."
 
 44 WANDERERS 
 
 " Mine's a grand piano, and a good one. I shouldn't 
 like it . . ." 
 
 " Fruen can be easy about that." 
 
 " Have you any sort of . . ." 
 
 " I've no certificate, no. It's not my way to ask for 
 such. But Fruen can come and hear me." 
 
 "Well, perhaps yes, come this way." 
 
 She went into the house, and he followed. I 
 looked through the doorway as they went in, and 
 saw a room with many pictures on the walls. 
 
 The maids fussed about in and out of the kitchen, 
 casting curious glances at me, stranger as I was ; one 
 of the girls was quite nice-looking. I was thankful I 
 had shaved that morning. 
 
 Some ten minutes passed ; Falkenberg had begun. 
 Fruen came out into the kitchen again and said : 
 
 "And to think you speak French ! It's more than 
 I do." 
 
 Now, Heaven be thanked for that. I had no wish to 
 go farther with it myself. If I had, it would have been 
 mostly hackneyed stuff, about returning to our muttons 
 and looking for the lady in the case, and the State, 
 that's me, and so on. 
 
 "Your friend showed me his papers," said Fruen. 
 "You seem to be decent folk. I don't know. ... I 
 might telegraph to my husband and ask if he's any 
 work for you." 
 
 I would have thanked her, but could not get 
 a word out for swallowing at something in my 
 throat. 
 
 Neurasthenia ! 
 
 Afterwards I went out across the yard and walked 
 about the fields a bit ; all was in good order every- 
 where, and the crops in under cover. Even the potato 
 stalks had been carted in, though there's many places 
 where they're left out till the snow comes. I could see
 
 WANDERERS 45 
 
 nothing for us to do at all. Evidently these people 
 were well-to-do. 
 
 When it was getting towards evening, and Falken- 
 berg was still tuning, I took a bit of something to eat 
 in my pocket and went off for a walk, to be out of the 
 way so they should not ask me in to supper. There 
 was a moon, and the stars were out, but I liked best to 
 grope my way into the dense part of the wood and sit 
 down in the dark. It was more sheltered there, too. 
 How quiet the earth and air seemed now ! The cold 
 is beginning, there is rime on the ground ; now and 
 again a stalk of grass creaks faintly, a little mouse 
 squeaks, a rook comes soaring over the treetops, then 
 all is quiet again. Was there ever such fair hair as 
 hers ? Surely never. Born a wonder, from top to toe, 
 her lips a ripened loveliness, and the play of dragon- 
 flies in her hair. If only one could draw out a diadem 
 from a sack of clothes and give it her. I'll find a pink 
 shell somewhere and carve it to a thumbnail, and offer 
 her the pipe to give her husband for a present . . . 
 yes. . . . 
 
 Falkenberg comes across the yard to meet me, and 
 whispers hurriedly : 
 
 " She's got an answer from the Captain ; he says we 
 can set to work felling timber in the woods. Are you 
 any good at that ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, then, go inside, into the kitchen. She's 
 been asking for you." 
 
 I went in, and Fruen said : 
 
 " I wondered where you'd got to. Sit down and 
 have something to eat. Had your supper ? Where?" 
 
 " We've food with us in the sack." 
 
 "Well, there was no need to do that. Won't you 
 have a cup of tea, then? Nothing? . . . I've had an 
 answer from my husband. Can you fell trees ? Well,
 
 4 6 WANDERERS 
 
 that's all right. Look, here it is : ' Want couple of men 
 felling- timber, Fetter will show trees marked.' ..." 
 
 Heaven she stood there beside me, pointing to the 
 message. And the scent of a young girl in her 
 breath. . . . 
 
 XVI 
 
 In the woods. Fetter is one of the farm-hands ; he 
 showed us the way here. 
 
 When we talked together, Falkenberg was not by 
 any means so grateful to Fruen for giving us work. 
 " Nothing to bow and scrape for in that," he said. 
 "It's none so easy to get workmen these days." 
 Falkenberg, by the way, was nothing out of the 
 ordinary in the woodcutting line, while I'd had some 
 experience of the work in another part of the world, 
 and so could take a lead in this at a pinch. And he 
 agreed I was to be leader. 
 
 Just now I began working in my mind on an 
 invention. 
 
 With the ordinary sort of saw now in use, the men 
 have to lie down crookedwise on the ground and pull 
 sideways. And that's why there's not so much gets 
 done in a day, and a deal of ugly stumps left after 
 in the woods. Now, with a conical transmission 
 apparatus that could be screwed on to the root, it 
 should be possible to work the saw with a straight 
 back-and-forward movement, but the blade cutting 
 horizontally all the time. I set to work designing 
 parts of a machine of this sort. The thing that 
 puzzled me most was how to get the little touch of 
 pressure on the blade that's needed. It might be done 
 by means of a spring that could be wound up by 
 clockwork, or perhaps a weight would do it. The 
 weight would be easier, but uniform, and, as the saw 
 went deeper, it would be getting harder all the time,
 
 WANDERERS 47 
 
 and the same pressure would not do. A steel spring, 
 on the other hand, would slacken down as the cut 
 grew deeper, and always give the right amount of 
 pressure. I decided on the spring 1 system. "You can 
 manage it," I told myself. And it would be the 
 greatest thing in my life for the credit of it. 
 
 The days passed, one like another ; we felled our 
 nine-inch timber, and cut off twigs and tops. We 
 lived in plenty, taking food and coffee with us when we 
 started for the woods, and getting a hot meal in the 
 evening when we came home. Then we washed and 
 tidied ourselves to be nicer-mannered than the farm- 
 hands and sat in the kitchen, with a big lamp 
 alight, and three girls. Falkenberg got to be sweet- 
 hearts with Emma. 
 
 And every now and then there would come a wave of 
 music from the piano in the parlour ; sometimes Fruen 
 herself would come out to us with her girlish youth and 
 her blessed kindly ways. "And how did you get on 
 to-day?" she would ask. "Did you meet a bear in 
 the woods ? " But one evening she thanked Falkenberg 
 for doing her piano so nicely. What? did she mean 
 it ? Falkenberg's weather-beaten face grew quite hand- 
 some with pleasure ; I felt proud of him when he 
 answered modestly that he thought himself it was a 
 little better now. 
 
 Either he had gained by his experience in tuning 
 already, or Fruen was grateful to him for not having 
 spoiled the grand piano. 
 
 Falkenberg dressed up in my town clothes every 
 evening. It wouldn't do for me to take them back now 
 and wear them myself; everyone would believe I'd 
 borrowed them from him. 
 
 " Let me have Emma, and you can keep the clothes," 
 I said in jest. 
 
 ?' All right, you can take her," he answered.
 
 48 WANDERERS 
 
 I began to see then that Falkenberg was growing 
 cooler towards his girl. Oh, but Falkenberg had fallen 
 in love too, the same as I. What simple boys we were ! 
 
 "Wonder if she will give us a look-in this evening 
 again ? " Falkenberg would say while we were out at 
 work. 
 
 And I would answer that I didn't care how long the 
 Captain stayed away. 
 
 "No, you're right," said Falkenberg. "And I say, 
 if I find he isn't decent to her, there'll be trouble." 
 
 Then one evening Falkenberg gave us a song. And 
 I was proud of him as ever. Fruen came out, and he 
 had to sing it over again, and another one after ; his 
 fine voice filled the room, and Fruen was delighted, 
 and said she had never heard anything like it. 
 
 And then it was I began to be envious. 
 
 "Have you learnt singing?" asked Fruen. "Can 
 you read music at all ? " 
 
 "Yes, indeed," said Falkenberg. "I used to sing 
 in a club." 
 
 Now that was where he should have said : no, 
 worse luck, he'd never learned, so I thought to myself. 
 
 " Have you ever sung to anyone? Has anyone ever 
 heard you ? " 
 
 " I've sung at dances and parties now and again. 
 And once at a wedding." 
 
 "But I mean for anyone that knew: has anyone 
 tried your voice?" 
 
 " No, not that I know of or yes, I think so, yes." 
 
 " Well, won't you sing some more now ? Do." 
 
 And Falkenberg sang. 
 
 The end of it'll be he'll be asked right into the parlour 
 one evening, I thought to myself, with Fruen to play 
 for him. I said : 
 
 "Beg pardon, but won't the Captain be coming 
 home soon?"
 
 WANDERERS 49 
 
 "Yes, soon," answered Fruen. "Why do you 
 ask?" 
 
 " I was only thinking 1 about the work." 
 
 " Have you felled all the trees that were marked ? " 
 
 " No, not yet no, not by a long way. But ..." 
 
 "Oh ..." said Fruen suddenly, as if she had just 
 thought of something. " You must have some money. 
 Yes, of course . . ." 
 
 I grasped at that to save myself, and answered : 
 
 "Thank you very much." 
 
 Falkenberg said nothing. 
 
 " Well, you've only to ask, you know. V&rsaagod" 
 and she handed me the money I had asked for. " And 
 what about you ? " 
 
 "Nothing, thank you all the same," answered 
 Falkenberg. 
 
 Heavens, how I had lost again fallen to earth again ! 
 And Falkenberg, that shameless impostor, who sat 
 there playing the man of property who didn't need 
 anything in advance. I would tear my clothes off him 
 that very night, and leave him naked. 
 
 Only, of course, I did nothing of the sort. 
 
 XVII 
 
 And two days went by. 
 
 "If she comes out again this evening," Falkenberg 
 would say up in the woods, " I'll sing that one about 
 the poppy. I'd forgotten that." 
 
 "You've forgotten Emma, too, haven't you?" I ask. 
 
 " Emma? Look here, I'll tell you what it is: you're 
 just the same as ever, that's what you are." 
 
 "Ho, am I?" 
 
 "Yes; inside, I mean. You wouldn't mind taking 
 Emma right there, with Fruen looking on. But I 
 couldn't do that." 
 4
 
 50 WANDERERS 
 
 " That's a lie!" I answered angrily. "You won't 
 see me tangled up in any foolery with the girls as long 
 as I am here." 
 
 "Ah, and I shan't be out at nights with anyone 
 after. Think she'll come this evening? I'd forgotten 
 that one about the poppy till now. Just listen." 
 
 Falkenberg sang the Poppy Song-. 
 
 "You're lucky, being able to sing like that," I said. 
 " But there's neither of us'll get her, for all that." 
 
 "Get her! Why, whoever thought . . . What a 
 fool you are ! " 
 
 "Ah, if I were young and rich and handsome, I'd 
 win her all the same," I said. 
 
 " If and if ... So could I, for the matter of that. 
 But there's the Captain." 
 
 "Yes, and then there's you. And then there's me. 
 And then there's herself and everybody else in the 
 world. And we're a couple of brutes to be talking 
 about her like this at all," said I, furious now with 
 myself for my own part. " A nice thing, indeed, for two 
 old woodcutters to speak of their mistress so." 
 
 We grew pale and thin the pair of us, and the 
 wrinkles showed up in Falkenberg's drawn face ; 
 neither of us could eat as we used. And by way of 
 trying to hide our troubles from each other, I went 
 about talking all sorts of cheerful nonsense, while 
 Falkenberg bragged loudly at every meal of how he'd 
 got to eating too much of late, and was getting slack 
 and out of form. 
 
 " Why, you don't seem to eat anything 1 at all," Fruen 
 would say when we came home with too much left of 
 the food we had taken with us. " Nice woodcutters, 
 indeed." 
 
 " It's Falkenberg that won't eat," said I. 
 
 " Ho, indeed ! " said Falkenberg ; " I like that. He's 
 given up eating altogether."
 
 WANDERERS 5 1 
 
 Now and again when she asked us to do her a favour, 
 some little service or other, we would both hurry to do 
 it ; at last we got to bringing in water and firewood of 
 our own accord. But one day Falkenberg played me a 
 mean trick : he came home with a bunch of hazel twigs 
 for a carpet-beater, that Fruen had asked me expressly 
 to cut for her. 
 
 And he sang every evening now. 
 
 Then it was I resolved to make Fruen jealous ey, 
 ey, my good man, are you mad now, or merely foolish ? 
 As if Fruen would ever give it as much as a thought, 
 whatever you did. 
 
 But so it was. I would try to make her jealous. 
 
 Of the three girls on the place, there was only one 
 that could possibly be used for the experiment, and 
 that was Emma. So I started talking nonsense to 
 Emma. 
 
 " Emma, I know of someone that is sighing for you." 
 
 " And where did you get to know of that, pray ? " 
 
 " From the stars above." 
 
 " I'd rather hear of it from someone here on earth." 
 
 " I can tell you that, too. At first-hand." 
 
 "It's himself he means," put in Falkenberg, anxious 
 to keep well out of it. 
 
 "Well, and I don't mind saying it is. Paratum cor 
 meum." 
 
 But Emma was ungracious, and didn't care to talk to 
 me, for all I was better at languages than Falkenberg. 
 What could I not even master Emma? Well ... I 
 turned proud and silent after that, and went my own 
 ways, making drawings for that machine of mine and 
 little models. And when Falkenberg was singing of 
 an evening, and Fruen listening, I went across to the 
 men's quarters and stayed there with them. Which, 
 of course, was much more dignified. The only trouble 
 about it was that Fetter was ill in bed, and couldn't 
 
 UNIVERSmr OF ILUNGU
 
 52 WANDERERS 
 
 stand the noise of axe and hammer, so I had to go 
 outside every time I'd any heavy piece of work to do. 
 
 Still, now and again I fancied Fruen might perhaps 
 be sorry, after all, at missing my company in the kitchen. 
 It looked so, to me. One evening, when we were at 
 supper, she turned to me and said : 
 
 " What's that the men were saying about a new 
 machine you're making?" 
 
 "It's a new kind of saw he's messing about with," 
 said Falkenberg. " But it's too heavy to be any good." 
 
 I made no answer to that, but craftily preferred to 
 be wronged. Was it not the fate of all inventors to be 
 so misjudged ? Only wait : my time was not yet come. 
 There were moments when I could hardly keep from 
 bursting out with a revelation to the girls, of how I 
 was really a man of good family, led astray by despera- 
 tion over an unhappy love affair, and now taking to 
 drink. Alas, yes, man proposes, God disposes. . . . 
 And then, perhaps, Fruen herself might come to hear 
 of it. . . . 
 
 "I think I'll take to going over with the men in the 
 evenings," said Falkenberg, " the same as you." 
 
 And I knew well enough why Falkenberg had sud- 
 denly taken it into his head to spend his evenings there ; 
 he was not asked to sing now as often as before ; some 
 way or other, he was less in demand of late. 
 
 XVIII 
 
 The Captain had returned. 
 
 A big man, with a full beard, came out to us one day 
 while we were at work, and said : 
 
 " I'm Captain Falkenberg. Well, lads, how goes it?" 
 
 We greeted him respectfully, and answered: "Well 
 enough." 
 
 Then there was some talk of what we had done and
 
 WANDERERS 53 
 
 what remained to do. The Captain was pleased with 
 our work all clean cut and close to the root. Then 
 he reckoned out how much we had got through per day, 
 and said it came to a good average. 
 
 " Captain's forgetting Sundays," said I. 
 
 "That's true," said he. "Well, that makes it over 
 the average. Had any trouble at all with the tools ? 
 Is the saw all right ? " 
 
 "Quite all right." 
 
 "And nobody hurt?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 Pause. 
 
 " You ought by rights to provide your own food," he 
 said, " but if you would rather have it the other way, 
 we can square it when we come to settle up." 
 
 " We'll be glad to have it as Captain thinks best." 
 
 "Yes," agreed Falkenberg as well. 
 
 The Captain took a turn up through the wood and 
 came back again. 
 
 "Couldn't have better weather," he said. "No 
 snow to shovel away." 
 
 " No, there's no snow that's true ; but a little more 
 frost'd do no harm." 
 
 " Why ? Cooler to work in, d'you mean ? " 
 
 " That, too, perhaps ; yes. But the saw cuts easier 
 when timber's frozen." 
 
 "You're an old hand at this work, then?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " And are you the one that sings ? " 
 
 " No, more's the pity. He is the one that sings." 
 
 " Oh, so you are the singer, are you? We're name- 
 sakes, I believe ? " 
 
 "Why, yes, in a way," said Falkenberg, a little 
 awkwardly. "My name is Lars Falkenberg, and I've 
 my certificate to show for that." 
 
 " What part d'you come from ? "
 
 54 WANDERERS 
 
 " From Trendelagen." 
 
 The Captain went home. He was friendly enough, 
 but spoke in a short, decisive way, with never a smile 
 or a jesting word. A good face, something ordinary. 
 
 From that day onwards Falkenberg never sang but 
 in the men's quarters, or out in the open ; no more 
 singing in the kitchen now the Captain had come home. 
 Falkenberg was irritable and gloomy ; he would swear 
 at times and say life wasn't worth living these days ; a 
 man might as well go and hang himself and have done 
 with it. But his fit of despair soon came to an end. 
 One Sunday he went back to the two farms where he 
 had tuned the pianos, and asked for a recommendation 
 from each. When he came back he showed me the 
 papers, and said : 
 
 " They'll do to keep going with for a bit." 
 
 " Then you're not going to hang yourself, after all ? " 
 
 " You've better cause to go that way, if you ask me," 
 said Falkenberg. 
 
 But I, too, was less despairing now. When the 
 Captain heard about my machine idea, he wanted to 
 know more about it at once. He saw at the first glance 
 that my drawings were far from perfect, being made on 
 small pieces of paper, and without so much as a pair of 
 dividers to work with. He lent me a set of drawing 
 instruments, and gave me some useful hints about how 
 such things were done. He, too, was afraid my saw 
 would prove too cumbersome. " But keep on with it, 
 anyway," he said. "Get the whole thing drawn to a 
 definite scale, then we can see." 
 
 I realised, however, that a decently constructed model 
 of the thing would give a better idea of it, and as soon 
 as I was through with the drawings I set to work 
 carving a model in wood. I had no lathe, and had to 
 whittle out the two rollers and several wheels and screws 
 by hand. I was working at this on the Sunday, and so
 
 WANDERERS 5 5 
 
 taken up with it I never heard the dinner-bell. The 
 Captain came out and called, " Dinner! " Then, when 
 he saw what I was doing", he offered to drive over him- 
 self to the smithy the very next day, and get the parts 
 I needed cut on the lathe. " All you need do is to give 
 me the measurements," he said. "And you must want 
 some tools, surely ? Saw and drills ; right ! Screws, 
 yes, and a fine chisel ... is that all?" 
 
 He made a note of the things on the spot. A first- 
 rate man to work under. 
 
 But in the evening, when I had finished supper and 
 was crossing the courtyard to the men's room, Fruen 
 called me. She was standing between the kitchen 
 windows, in the shadow, but slipped forward now. 
 
 " My husband said ... he ... said . . . you can't 
 be warm enough in these thin clothes," she said. 
 " And would you . . . here, take these." 
 
 She bundled a whole suit into my arms. 
 
 I thanked her, stammering foolishly. I was going to 
 get myself some new things soon. There was no hurry ; 
 I didn't need . . . 
 
 "Of course, I know you can get thing's yourself. 
 But when your friend is so ... so ... oh, take these." 
 
 And she ran away indoors again, the very fashion of 
 a young girl fearing to be caught doing something- 
 over-kind. I had to call my last thanks after her. 
 
 When the Captain came out next evening" with my 
 wheels and rollers, I took the opportunity of thanking 
 him for the clothes. 
 
 "Oh er yes," he answered. "It was my wife 
 that ... Do they fit you all right? " 
 
 " Yes ; many thanks." 
 
 "That's all right, then. Yes ; it was my wife that . . . 
 well, here are the things for your machine, and the 
 tools. Good-night." 
 
 It seemed, then, as if the two of them were equally
 
 56 WANDERERS 
 
 ready to do an act of kindness. And when it was done, 
 each would lay the blame upon the other. Surely this 
 must be the perfect wedded life, that dreamers dreamed 
 of here on earth. , 
 
 XIX 
 
 The woods are stripped of leaf now, and the bird- 
 sounds are gone ; only the crows rasp out their screech- 
 ing" note at five in the morning, when they spread out 
 over the fields. We see them, Falkenberg and I, as 
 we go to our work ; the yearling birds, that have not 
 yet learned fear of the world, hop along the path before 
 our feet. 
 
 Then we meet the finch, the sparrow of the timbered 
 lands. He has been out in the woods already, and is 
 coming back now to humankind, that he likes to live 
 with and study from all sides. Queer little finch. A 
 bird of passage, really, but his parents have taught him 
 that one can spend a winter in the north ; and now he 
 will teach his children that the north's the only place to 
 spend the winter in at all. But there is still a touch of 
 emigrant blood in him, and he remains a wanderer. 
 One day he and his will gather together and set off for 
 somewhere else, many parishes away, to study a new 
 collection of humans there and in the aspen grove 
 never a finch to be seen. And it may be a whole week 
 before a new flock of this winged life appears and 
 settles in the same place. . . . Herregud! how many a 
 time have I watched the finches and their doings, and 
 found pleasure in all. 
 
 One day Falkenberg declares he is all right again- 
 now. Going to save up and put aside a hundred 
 Kroner this winter, out of tuning pianos and felling 
 trees, and then make it up again with Emma. I, too, 
 he suggests, would be better advised to give over sighing
 
 WANDERERS 57 
 
 for ladies of high degree, and go back to my own rank 
 and station. 
 
 Falkenberg was right. 
 
 On Saturday evening we stopped work a trifle earlier 
 than usual to go up and get some things from the 
 store. We wanted shirts, tobacco, and wine. 
 
 While we were in the store I caught sight of a little 
 workbox, ornamented with shells, of the kind seafaring 
 men used to buy in the old days at Amsterdam, and 
 bring home to their girls ; now the Germans make 
 them by the thousand. I bought the workbox, with 
 the idea of taking out one of the shells to serve as a 
 thumbnail for my pipe. 
 
 "What d'you want with a workbox?" asked Fal- 
 kenberg. "Is it for Emma, what?" He grew jealous 
 at the thought, and, not to be outdone, he bought a 
 silk handkerchief to give her himself. 
 
 On the way back we sampled the wine, and got 
 talking. Falkenberg was still jealous, so I took out 
 the workbox, chose the shell I wanted, and picked it off 
 and gave him the box. After that we were friends 
 again. 
 
 It was getting dark now, and there was no moon. 
 Suddenly we heard the sound of a concertina from a 
 house up on a hillside ; we could see there was dancing 
 within, from the way the light came and went like a 
 lighthouse beam. 
 
 " Let's go up and look," said Falkenberg. 
 
 Coming up to the house, we found a little group of 
 lads and girls outside taking the air. Emma was there 
 as well. 
 
 "Why, there's Emma!" cried Falkenberg cheerily, 
 not in the least put out to find she had gone without 
 him. " Emma, here, I've got something for you ! " 
 
 He reckoned to make all good with a word, but Emma 
 turned away from him and went indoors. Then, when
 
 58 WANDERERS 
 
 he moved to go after her, others barred his way, 
 hinting 1 pretty plainly that he wasn't wanted there. 
 
 " But Emma is there. Ask her to come out." 
 
 " Emma's not coming out. She's here with Markus 
 Shoemaker." 
 
 Falkenberg stood there helpless. He had been cold 
 to Emma now for so long that she had given him up. 
 And, seeing him stand there stupidly agape, some of 
 the girls began to make game of him : had she left 
 him all alone, then, and what would he ever do now, 
 poor fellow ? 
 
 Falkenberg set his bottle to his lips and drank before 
 the eyes of all, then wiped his mouth with the back of 
 his hand and passed to the nearest man. There was 
 a better feeling now towards us ; we were good fellows, 
 with bottles in our pockets, and willing to pass them 
 round ; moreover, we were strangers in the place, and 
 that was always something new. Also, Falkenberg 
 said many humorous things of Markus Shoemaker, 
 whom he persisted in calling Lukas. 
 
 The dance was still going on inside, but none of the 
 girls left us to go in and join. 
 
 " I'll bet you now," said Falkenberg, with a swagger, 
 " that Emma 'd be only too glad to be out here with us." 
 
 Helene and Ronnaug and Sara were there ; every 
 time they drank, they gave their hands prettily by way 
 of thanks, as the custom is, but some of the others 
 that had learned a trifle of town manners said only, 
 " Takfor Skjcenken" and no more. Helene was to be 
 Falkenberg's girl, it seemed ; he put his arm round her 
 waist and said she was his for to-night. And when 
 they moved off farther and farther away from the rest 
 of us, none called to them to come back ; we paired 
 off, all of us, after a while, and went our separate ways 
 into the woods. I went with Sara. 
 
 When we came out from the wood again, there stood
 
 WANDERERS 59 
 
 R0nnaug still taking the air. Strange girl, had she 
 been standing there alone all the time ? I took her 
 hand and talked to her a little, but she only smiled 
 to all I said and made no answer. We went off towards 
 the wood, and Sara called after us in the darkness : 
 " Ronnaug, come now and let's go home." But 
 Ronnaug made no answer ; it was little she said at 
 all. Soft, white as milk, and tall, and still. 
 
 XX 
 
 The first snow is come ; it thaws again at once, 
 but winter is not far off, and we are nearing the end 
 of our woodcutting now at 0vreb0 another week or 
 so, perhaps, no more. What then ? There was work 
 on the railway line up on the hills, or perhaps more 
 woodcutting at some other place we might come to. 
 Falkenberg was for trying the railway. 
 
 But I couldn't get done with my machine in so short 
 a time. We'd each our own affairs to take our time ; 
 apart from the machine, there was that thumbnail for 
 the pipe I wanted to finish, and the evenings came out 
 all too short. As for Falkenberg, he had made it up 
 with Emma again. And that was a difficult matter 
 and took time. She had been going about with 
 Markus Shoemaker, 'twas true, but Falkenberg for 
 his part could not deny having given Helene presents 
 a silk handkerchief and a workbox set with shells. 
 
 Falkenberg was troubled, and said : 
 
 " Everything is wrong, somehow. Nothing but 
 bother and worry and foolery." 
 
 "Why, as to that ..." 
 
 "That's what I call it, anyway, if you want to know. 
 She won't come up in the hills as we said." 
 
 "It'll be Markus Shoemaker, then, that's keeping 
 her back?"
 
 60 WANDERERS 
 
 Falkenberg was gloomily silent. Then, after a pause : 
 
 " They wouldn't even have me go on singing." 
 
 We got to talking of the Captain and his wife. 
 Falkenberg had an ill-foreboding all was not as it 
 might be between them. 
 
 Gossiping fool ! I put in a word : 
 
 "You'll excuse me, but you don't know what you 
 are talking about." 
 
 "Ho!" said he angrily. And, growing more and 
 more excited, he went on: "Have you ever seen 
 them, now, hanging about after each other? I've 
 never heard them say so much as a word." 
 
 The fool ! the churl I 
 
 "Don't know what is the matter with you to-day 
 the way you're sawing. Look what do you think of 
 that for a cut ? " 
 
 " Me? We're two of us in it, anyway, so there." 
 
 "Good! Then we'll say it's the thaw. Let's get 
 back to the axe again." 
 
 We went on working each by himself for a while, 
 angered and out of humour both. What was the lie 
 he had dared to say of them, that they never so much 
 as spoke to each other ? But, Heaven, he was right ! 
 Falkenberg had a keen scent for such things. He 
 knew something of men and women. 
 
 "At any rate, they speak nicely of each other to us," 
 I said. 
 
 Falkenberg went on with his work. 
 
 I thought over the whole thing again. 
 
 "Well, perhaps you may be right as far as that 
 goes, that it's not the wedded life dreamers have 
 dreamed of, still . . ." 
 
 But it was no good talking to Falkenberg in that 
 style ; he understood never a word. 
 
 When we stopped work at noon, I took up the talk 
 again.
 
 WANDERERS 61 
 
 " Didn't you say once if he wasn't decent to her 
 there'd be trouble?" 
 
 "Yes, I did." 
 
 "Well, there hasn't been trouble." 
 
 "Did I ever say he wasn't decent to her?" said 
 Falkenberg irritably. " No, but they're sick and 
 wearied of each other that's what it is. When one 
 comes in, the other goes out. Whenever he starts 
 talking of anything out in the kitchen, her eyes go 
 all dead and dull, and she doesn't listen." 
 
 We got to work again with the axe, each thinking 
 his own ways. 
 
 "I doubt but I'll need to give him a thrashing," 
 said Falkenberg. 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Lukas. . . ." 
 
 I got my pipe done, and sent Emma in with it to the 
 Captain. The nail had turned out fine and natural this 
 time, and with the fine tools I had now, I was able to 
 cut well down into the thumb and fasten it on the 
 underside, so that the two little copper pins would not 
 show. I was pleased enough with the work. 
 
 The Captain came out while we were at supper that 
 evening, to thank me for the pipe. At the same time, 
 I noticed that Falkenberg was right ; no sooner had 
 the Captain come out than Fruen went in. 
 
 The Captain praised my pipe, and asked how I had 
 managed to fix the nail ; he said I was an artist and 
 a master. All the others were standing by and heard 
 his words and it counted for something to be called 
 an artist by the Captain himself. I believe I could 
 have won Emma at that moment. 
 
 That night I learned to shiver and shake. 
 
 The corpse of a woman came up to me where I lay 
 in the loft, and stretched out its left hand to show me : 
 the thumbnail was missing. I shook my head, to say
 
 62 WANDERERS 
 
 I had had a thumbnail once, but I had thrown it away, 
 and used a shell instead. But the corpse stood there 
 all the same, and there I lay, shivering, cold with fear. 
 Then I managed to say I couldn't help it now ; in 
 God's name, go away ! And, Our Father which art 
 in heaven . . . The corpse came straight towards 
 me ; I thrust out two clenched fists and gave an icy 
 shriek and there I was, crushing Falkenberg flat 
 against the wall. 
 
 "What is it?" cried Falkenberg. "In Heaven's 
 name . . ." 
 
 I woke, dripping with sweat, and lay there with 
 open eyes, watching the corpse as it vanished quite 
 slowly in the dark of the room. 
 
 "It's the corpse," I groaned. "Come to ask for 
 her thumbnail." Falkenberg sat straight up in bed, 
 wide awake all at once. 
 
 " I saw her," he said. 
 
 "Did you see her, too? Did you see her thumb? 
 Ugh!" 
 
 " I wouldn't be in your shoes now for anything." 
 
 " Let me lie inside, against the wall," I begged. 
 
 " And what about me ? " 
 
 " It won't hurt you ; you can lie outside all right." 
 
 "And let her come and take me first? Not if I 
 know it." 
 
 And at that Falkenberg lay down again and pulled 
 the rug over his eyes. 
 
 I thought for a moment of going down to sleep with 
 Fetter ; he was getting better now, and there was no fear 
 of infection. But I was afraid to go down the stairs. 
 
 It was a terrible night. 
 
 Next morning I searched high and low for the nail, 
 and found it on the floor at last, among the shavings 
 and sawdust. I took it out and buried it on the way 
 to the wood.
 
 WANDERERS 63 
 
 "It's a question if you oughtn't to carry it back 
 where you took it from," said Falkenberg. 
 
 " Why, that's miles away a whole long- journey. . . ." 
 
 "They won't ask about that if you're called to do it. 
 Maybe she won't care about having a thumb in one place 
 and a thumbnail in another." 
 
 But I was brave enough now ; a very desperado in 
 the daylight. I laughed at Falkenberg for his super- 
 stition, and told him science had disposed of all such 
 nonsense long ago. 
 
 XXI 
 
 One evening there came visitors to the place, and 
 as Fetter was still poorly, and the other lad was only 
 a youngster, I had to go and take out the horses. 
 A lady got out of the carriage. 
 
 " Is anyone at home? " she asked. 
 
 The sound of wheels had brought faces to the win- 
 dows ; lamps were lit in the rooms and passages. 
 Fruen came out, calling : 
 
 " Is that you, Elisabeth? I'm so glad you've come." 
 
 It was Frcken Elisabeth from the vicarage. 
 
 " Is he here? " she asked in surprise. 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 It was myself she meant. So she had recognised 
 me. . . . 
 
 Next day the two young ladies came out to us in the 
 wood. At first I was afraid lest some rumour of a 
 certain nightly ride on borrowed horses should have 
 reached the vicarage, but calmed myself when nothing 
 was said of it. 
 
 "The water-pipes are doing nicely," said Froken 
 Elisabeth. 
 
 I was pleased to hear it. 
 
 " Water-pipes? " said Fruen inquiringly. 
 
 " He laid on a water-supply to the house for us.
 
 64 WANDERERS 
 
 Pipes in the kitchen and upstairs as well. Just turn a 
 tap and there it is. You ought to have it done here." 
 
 "Really, though? Could it be done here, do you 
 think?" 
 
 I answered : yes, it ought to be easy enough. 
 
 " Why didn't you speak to my husband about it?" 
 
 "I did speak of it. He said he would see what 
 Fruen thought about it." 
 
 Awkward pause. So he would not speak to her even 
 of a thing that so nearly concerned herself. I hastened 
 to break the silence, and said at random : 
 
 "Anyhow, it's too late to start this year ; the winter 
 would be on us before we could get it done. But next 
 spring ..." 
 
 Fruen seemed to come back to attention from some- 
 where far away. 
 
 "Oh yes, I remember now, he did say something 
 about it," she said. "We talked it over. But it was 
 too late this year. . . . Elisabeth, don't you like watch- 
 ing them felling trees ? " 
 
 We used a rope now and then to guide the tree in its 
 fall. Falkenberg had just fixed this rope high up, and 
 the tree stood swaying. 
 
 " What's that for ?" 
 
 "To make it fall the right way," I began. But 
 Fruen did not care to listen to me any more ; she 
 turned to Falkenberg and put the question to him 
 directly : 
 
 " Does it matter which way it falls?" 
 
 Falkenberg had to answer her. 
 
 "Why, we'll need to guide it a bit, so it doesn't 
 break down too much of the young growth when it 
 falls." 
 
 "Did you notice," said Fruen to her friend, "what 
 a voice he has? He's the one that sings." 
 
 How I hated myself now for having talked so much,
 
 WANDERERS 65 
 
 instead of reading her wish ! But at least I would 
 show her that I understood the hint. And, moreover, 
 it was Froken Elisabeth and no other I was in love 
 with ; she was not full of changing humours, and was 
 just as pretty as the other ay, a thousand times 
 prettier. I would go and take work at her father's 
 place. ... I took care now, whenever Fruen spoke, to 
 look first at Falkenberg and then at her, keeping back 
 my answer as if fearing to speak out of my turn. I 
 think, too, she began to feel a little sorry when she 
 noticed this, for once she said, with a little troubled 
 smile : "Yes, yes, it was you I asked." 
 
 That smile with her words . . . There came a whirl 
 of joy at my heart ; I began swinging the axe with all 
 the strength I had gained from long use, and made fine 
 deep cuts. I heard only a word now and then of what 
 they said. 
 
 "They want me to sing to them this evening," said 
 Falkenberg, when they had gone. 
 
 Evening came. 
 
 I stood out in the courtyard, talking to the Captain. 
 Three or four days more, and our work on the timber 
 would be at an end. 
 
 "And where will you be going then?" asked the 
 Captain. 
 
 " We were going to get work on the railway." 
 
 "I might find you something to do here," said the 
 Captain. " I want the drive down to the high road 
 carried a different way ; it's too steep as it is. Come 
 and see what I mean." 
 
 He took me round to the south side of the house, and 
 pointed this way and that, though it was already 
 dark. 
 
 " And by the time that's done, and one or two other 
 little things, we shall be well on to the spring," he said. 
 "And then there'll be the water, as you said. And, 
 5
 
 66 WANDERERS 
 
 besides, there's Fetter laid up still ; we can't get along 
 like this. I must have another hand to help." 
 
 Suddenly we heard Falkenberg singing. There was 
 a light in the parlour ; Falkenberg was in there, singing 
 to an accompaniment on the piano. The music welled 
 out towards us the man had a remarkable voice and 
 made me quiver against my will. 
 
 The Captain started, and glanced up at the windows. 
 
 "No," he said suddenly; "I think, after all, we'd 
 better leave the drive till next spring as well. How 
 soon did you say you'd be through with the timber ? " 
 
 "Three or four days." 
 
 " Good ! We'll say three or four days more for that, 
 and then finish for this year." 
 
 A strangely sudden decision, I thought to myself. 
 And aloud I said : 
 
 "There's no reason why we shouldn't do the road 
 work in winter. It's better in some ways. There's the 
 blasting, and getting up the loads. ..." 
 
 "Yes, I know . . . but . . . well, I think I must go 
 in now and listen to this. . . ." 
 
 The Captain went indoors. 
 
 It crossed my mind that he did so out of courtesy, 
 wishing to make himself, as it were, responsible for 
 having Falkenberg in the parlour. But I fancied he 
 would rather have stayed talking with me. 
 
 Which was a coxcomb's thought, and altogether 
 wrong. 
 
 XXII 
 
 I had got the biggest parts of my machine done, and 
 could fix them together and try it. There was an old 
 stump by the barn-bridge from an aspen that had been 
 blown down ; I fixed my apparatus to that, and found 
 at once that the saw would cut all right. Aha, now, 
 what have you got to say ? Here's the problem solved !
 
 WANDERERS 67 
 
 I had bought a huge saw-blade and cut teeth all down 
 the back ; these teeth fitted into a little cogwheel set to 
 take the friction, and driven forward by the spring. 
 The spring itself I had fashioned originally from a 
 broad staybusk Emma had given me, but, when I came 
 to test it, it proved too weak ; so I made another from 
 a saw-blade only six millimetres across, after I had first 
 filed off the teeth. This new spring, however, was too 
 strong ; I had to manage as best I could by winding it 
 only half-way up, and then, when it ran down, half-way 
 up again. 
 
 I knew too little theory, worse luck ; it was a case 
 of feeling my way at every step, and this made it a 
 slow proceeding. The conical gear, for instance, I 
 found too heavy when I came to put it into practice, 
 and had to devise a different system altogether. 
 
 It was on a Sunday that I fixed my apparatus to the 
 stump ; the new white woodwork and the shining saw- 
 blade glittered in the sun. Soon faces appeared at 
 the windows, and the Captain himself came. He did 
 not answer my greeting, so intent was he on the 
 machine. 
 
 " Well, how do you think it will work ? " 
 
 I set it going. 
 
 " Upon my soul, I believe it will. . . ." 
 
 Fruen and Froken Elisabeth came out, all the maids 
 came out, Falkenberg came out, and I let them see it 
 work. Aha, what did I say? 
 
 Said the Captain presently : 
 
 " Won't it take up too much time, fixing the appara- 
 tus to one tree after another ? " 
 
 " Part of the time will be made up by easier work. 
 No need to keep stopping for breath." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because the lateral pressure's effected by the spring. 
 It's just that pressure that makes the hardest work."
 
 68 WANDERERS 
 
 " And what about the rest of the time? " 
 
 " I'm going to discard this screw-on arrangement 
 and have a clamp instead, that can be pressed down by 
 the foot. A clamp with teeth to give a better grip, 
 and adjustable to any sized timber." 
 
 I showed him a drawing of this clamp arrangement ; 
 I had not had time to make the thing itself. 
 
 The Captain took a turn at the saw himself, 
 noticing carefully the amount of force required. He 
 said : 
 
 " It's a question whether it won't be too heavy, pull- 
 ing a saw twice the width of an ordinary woodcutting 
 saw. " 
 
 "Ay," agreed Falkenberg ; "it looks that way." 
 
 All looked at Falkenberg, and then at me. It was 
 my turn now. 
 
 "A single man can push a goods truck with full load 
 on rails," I said. "And here there'll be two men to 
 work a saw with the blade running on two rollers over 
 oiled steel guides. It'll be easier to work than the old 
 type of saw a single man could work it, if it came to 
 a pinch." 
 
 " It sounds almost impossible." 
 
 "Well, we shall see." 
 
 Froken Elisabeth asked half in jest : 
 
 " But tell me I don't understand these things a bit, 
 you know why wouldn't it be better to saw a tree 
 across in the old way ? " 
 
 " He's trying to get rid of the lateral pressure ; that's 
 a strain on the men working," explained the Captain. 
 "With a saw like this you can, as he says, make a 
 horizontal cut with the same sort of pressure you would 
 use for an ordinary saw cutting vertically down. It's 
 simply this : you press downwards, but the pressure's 
 transmitted sideways. By the way," he went on, turn- 
 ing to me, "has it struck you there might be a danger
 
 WANDERERS 69 
 
 of pressing- down the ends of the blade, and making a 
 convex cut ? " 
 
 "That's obviated in the first place by these rollers 
 under the blade." 
 
 "True; that goes for something. And in the second 
 place ? " 
 
 " In the second place, it would be impossible to make 
 a convex cut with this apparatus even if you wanted to. 
 The blade, you see, has a T-shaped back ; that makes 
 it practically impossible to bend it." 
 
 I fancy the Captain put forward some of his objections 
 against his own conviction. Knowing all he did, he 
 could have answered them himself better than I. On 
 the other hand, there were points he did not notice, but 
 which caused me some anxiety. A machine that was 
 to be carried about in the woods must not be made 
 with delicate mechanism. I was afraid, for instance, 
 that the two steel guides might be easily injured, 
 and either broken away, or so bent that the wheels 
 would jam. No ; the guides would have to be 
 dispensed with, and the wheels set under the back 
 of the saw. Altogether, my machine was far from 
 complete. . . . 
 
 The Captain went over to Falkenberg and said : 
 
 "I want you to drive the ladies to-morrow; they're 
 going some way, and Fetter's not well enough, it seems. 
 Do you think you could?" 
 
 " Surely," said Falkenberg ; "and welcome." 
 
 " Frokenen's going back to the vicarage," said the 
 Captain, as he turned to go. "You'll have to be out 
 by six o'clock." 
 
 Falkenberg was in high spirits at this mark of 
 confidence, and jestingly hinted that I envied him the 
 same. Truth to tell, I did not envy him there in the 
 least. I was perhaps a little hurt to find my comrade 
 so preferred before myself, but I would most certainly
 
 70 WANDERERS 
 
 rather stay here by myself in the quiet of the woods 
 than sit on a box and drive in the cold. 
 
 Falkenberg was thoroughly pleased with himself. 
 
 "You're looking" simply green with envy now," he 
 said. "You'd better take something for it. Try a 
 little castor-oil, now, do." 
 
 He was busy all the forenoon getting ready for the 
 journey, washing down the carriage, greasing the 
 wheels, and cleaning the harness after. I helped him 
 with the work. 
 
 " I don't believe you can drive a pair at all, really," I 
 said, just to annoy him. " But I'll give you a bit of a 
 lesson, if you like, before you start." 
 
 "You've got it badly," he answered. "It's a pity 
 to see a man looking like that, when a dose of castor- 
 oil would put him right." 
 
 It was like that all the time jesting and merriment 
 from one to the other. 
 
 That evening the Captain came out to me. 
 
 "I didn't want to send you down with the ladies," 
 he said, "because of your work. But now Froken 
 Elisabeth says she wants you to drive, and not the 
 other man." 
 
 "Me?" 
 
 " Yes. Because she knows you." 
 
 "Why, as for that, 'twould have been safe enough 
 as it was." 
 
 " Do you mind going at all ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Good ! Then that's settled." 
 
 This thought came into my mind at once : " Aha, it's 
 me the ladies fancy, after all, because I'm an inventor 
 and proprietor of a patent saw, and not bad looking when 
 I'm properly got up not bad looking by any means." 
 
 But the Captain explained things to Falkenberg in 
 an altogether different way, that upset my vanity
 
 WANDERERS 7 1 
 
 completely : Froken Elisabeth wanted me to go down 
 to the vicarage once more, so that her father might 
 have another try at getting me to take work there. 
 She'd promised him to do so. 
 
 I thought and thought over this explanation. 
 
 " But if you get taken on at the vicarage, then it's 
 all off with our railway work," said Falkenberg. 
 
 "I shan't," said I. 
 
 XXIII 
 
 I started early in the morning with the two ladies in 
 a closed carriage. It was more than a trifle cold at 
 first, and my woollen rug came in very handy ; I used 
 it alternately to put over my knees and wrap round 
 my shoulders. 
 
 We drove the way I had walked up with Falkenberg, 
 and I recognised place after place as we passed. There 
 and there he had tuned the pianos ; there we had heard 
 the grey goose passing. . . . The sun came up, and it 
 grew warmer ; the hours went by ; then, coming to 
 cross-roads, the ladies knocked at the window and said 
 it was dinner-time. 
 
 I could see by the sun it was too early for the ladies' 
 dinner-time, though well enough for me, seeing I took 
 my dinner with Falkenberg at noon. So I drove on. 
 
 "Can't you stop? " they cried. 
 
 " I thought . . . you don't generally have dinner till 
 three. . . ." 
 
 " But we're hungry." 
 
 I turned off aside from the road, took out the horses, 
 and fed and watered them. Had these strange beings 
 set their dinner-time by mine? 
 
 " Vcersaagod!" 
 
 But I felt I could not well sit down to eat with them, 
 so I remained standing by the horses.
 
 72 WANDERERS 
 
 ' 'Well?" said Fruen. 
 
 "Thank you kindly," said I, and waited to be served. 
 
 They helped me, both of them, as if they could never 
 give me enough. I drew the corks of the beer bottles, 
 and was given a liberal share here as well ; it was a 
 picnic by the roadside a little wayfaring adventure in 
 my life. And Fruen I dared look at least, for fear she 
 should be hurt. 
 
 And they talked and jested with each other, and now 
 and again with me, out of their kindliness, that I 
 might feel at ease. Said Froken Elisabeth : 
 
 "Oh, I think it's just lovely to have meals out of 
 doors. Don't you ? " 
 
 And here she said De, instead of Du, as she had said 
 before. 
 
 "It's not so new to him, you know," said Fruen; 
 " he has his dinner out in the woods every day." 
 
 Eh, but that voice of hers, and her eyes, and the 
 womanly, tender look of the hand that held the glass 
 towards me. ... I might have said something in 
 turn have told them this or that of strange things 
 from out in the wide world, for their amusement ; I 
 could have set those ladies right when they chattered 
 on, all ignorant of the way of riding camels or of 
 harvest in the vineyards. . . . 
 
 I made haste to finish my meal, and moved away. 
 I took the buckets and went down for more water for 
 the horses, though there was no need. I sat down by 
 the stream and stayed there. 
 
 After a little while Fruen called : 
 
 "You must come and stand by the horses; we are 
 going off to see if we can find some wild hops or some- 
 thing nice." 
 
 But when I came up they decided that the wild hops 
 were over, and there were no rowan berries left now, 
 nor any richly coloured leaves.
 
 WANDERERS 73 
 
 " There's nothing in the woods now," said Frokenen. 
 And she spoke to me directly once again: "Well, 
 there's no churchyard here for you to roam about 
 in." 
 
 "No." 
 
 "You must miss it, I should think." And then she 
 went on to explain to Fruen that I was a curious 
 person who wandered about in graveyards by night 
 and had meetings with the dead. And it was there I 
 invented my machines and things. 
 
 By way of saying something, I asked about young 
 Erik. He had been thrown by a runaway horse and 
 badly hurt. . . . 
 
 "He's better now," said Frokenen shortly. "Are 
 you ready to go on again, Lovise ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed. Can we start? " 
 
 " Whenever you please," I answered. 
 
 And we drove on again. 
 
 The hours pass, the sun draws lower down the sky, 
 and it is cooler a chill in the air ; then later wind and 
 wet, half rain, half snow. We passed the annexe 
 church, a couple of wayside stores, and farm after 
 farm. 
 
 Then came a knocking on the window of the 
 carriage. 
 
 "Wasn't it here you went riding one night on 
 borrowed horses ?" said Frokenen laughingly. "Oh, 
 we know all about it, never fear ! " 
 
 And both the ladies were highly amused. 
 
 I answered on a sudden thought : 
 
 " And yet your father would have me to take service 
 with him or wasn't it so ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "While I think of it, Freken, how did your father 
 know I was working for Captain Falkenberg ? You 
 were surprised yourself to find me there."
 
 74 WANDERERS 
 
 She thought quickly, and glanced at Fruen and 
 said : 
 
 " I wrote home and told them." 
 
 Fruen cast down her eyes. 
 
 Now it seemed to me that the young lady was 
 inventing. But she put in excellent answers, and tied 
 my tongue. It sounded all so natural ; she writes an 
 ordinary letter to her people at home, and puts in 
 something like this : " And who do you think is here? 
 The man who did those water-pipes for us ; he's felling 
 timber now for Captain Falkenberg. ..." 
 
 But when we reached the vicarage, the new hand 
 was engaged already, and there at work had been 
 there three weeks past. He came out to take the 
 horses. 
 
 After that, I thought and thought again why had 
 they chosen me to drive them down ? Perhaps it was 
 meant as a little treat for me, as against Falkenberg's 
 being asked into the parlour to sing. But surely 
 didn't they understand, these people, that I was a man 
 who had nearly finished a new machine, and would 
 soon have no need of any such trifles ! 
 
 I went about sharp and sullen and ill-pleased with 
 myself, had my meal in the kitchen, where Oline gave 
 me her blessing for the water-pipes, and went out to 
 tend my horses. I took my rug and went over to the 
 barn in the dark. . . . 
 
 I woke to find someone touching me. It was the 
 vicar's wife. 
 
 "You mustn't lie here, you know; it's simply freez- 
 ing," she said. "Come with me, and I'll show 
 you ..." 
 
 We talked of that a little ; I was not inclined to 
 move, and at last she sat down herself instead. A 
 flame she was nay, a daughter of Nature. Within 
 her the music of a rapturous dance was playing yet.
 
 WANDERERS 75 
 
 XXIV 
 
 Next morning I was more content with things. I had 
 cooled down and turned sensible I was resigned. If 
 only I had seen before what was best for me, I might 
 have taken service here at the vicarage, and been the 
 first of all equals. Ay, and settled down and taken 
 root in a quiet countryish life. 
 
 Fru Falkenberg stood out in the courtyard. Her 
 bright figure stood like a pillar, stood there free and 
 erect in the open courtyard, and her head was bare. 
 
 I greeted her Godmorgen. 
 
 " Godmorgen!" she answered again, and came striding 
 towards me. Then very quietly she asked : " I wanted 
 to see how they put you up last night, only I couldn't 
 get away. That is, of course, I got away, but . . . 
 you weren't in the barn, were you ? " 
 
 The last words came to me as if in a dream, and I 
 did not answer. 
 
 "Well, why don't you answer ? " 
 
 "Yes . . . in the barn? Yes." 
 
 " Were you ? And was it quite all right ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Oh, well, then . . . yes yes. We shall be going 
 back sometime to-day." 
 
 She turned and walked away, her face all in one 
 great flush. . . . 
 
 Harald came and asked me to make a kite. 
 
 "A kite?" I answered all confusedly. "Ay, I'll 
 make you a kite, a huge one, that'll go right up to the 
 clouds. That I will." 
 
 We worked at it for a couple of hours, Harald and I. 
 He was good and quick, and so innocent in his eager- 
 ness ; I, for my part, was thinking of anything but kites. 
 We made a tail several metres long, and busied our-
 
 76 WANDERERS 
 
 selves with paste and lashing- and binding ; twice 
 Froken Elisabeth came out to look on. She may have 
 been every bit as sweet and bright as before, but I cared 
 nothing for what she was, and gave no thought to her. 
 
 Then came the order to harness ready to start. I 
 should have obeyed that order at once, for we had a 
 long drive before us, but, instead, I sent Harald in to 
 ask if we might wait just half an hour more. And we 
 worked on till the kite was finished. Next day, when 
 the paste was dry, Harald could send up his kite and 
 watch it rise, and feel unknown emotion within him, 
 as I did now. 
 
 Ready to start. 
 
 Fruen comes out ; all the family are there to see her 
 off. The priest and his wife both know me again, 
 return my greeting, and say a few words but I heard 
 nothing- said of my taking service with them now. 
 The priest knew me again yes ; and his blue-eyed wife 
 looked at me with that sidelong glance of hers as she 
 knew me again, for all she had known me the night 
 before as well. 
 
 Froken Elisabeth brings out some food for the 
 journey, and wraps her friend up well. 
 
 "Sure you'll be warm enough, now?" she asks for 
 the last time. 
 
 " Quite sure, thanks ; it's more than warm enough 
 with all these. Farvel, Farvel." 
 
 " See you drive as nicely as you did yesterday," says 
 Froken, with a nod to me as well. 
 
 And we drove off. 
 
 The day was raw and chilly, and I saw at once that 
 Fruen was not warm enough with her rug. 
 
 We drive on for hour after hour ; the horses know 
 they are on the way home, and trot without asking. 
 My bare hands stiffen about the reins. As we neared a 
 cottage a little way from the road, Fruen knocked on
 
 WANDERERS 77 
 
 the carriage window to say it was dinner-time. She 
 gets out, and her face is pale with the cold. 
 
 "We'll go up there and have dinner," she says. 
 " Come up as soon as you're ready, and bring the 
 basket." 
 
 And she walked up the hill. 
 
 It must be because of the cold she chose to eat in a 
 stranger's house, I thought to myself; she could hardly 
 be afraid of me. ... I tied up the horses and gave 
 them their fodder. It looked like rain, so I put the 
 oilskins over them, patted them, and went up to the 
 cottage with the basket. 
 
 There is only an old woman at home. " Vcersaagod! " 
 she says, and " Come in." And she goes on tending 
 her coffee-pot. Fruen unpacks the basket, and says, 
 without looking at me : 
 
 " I suppose I am to help you again to-day? " 
 
 "Thank you, if you will." 
 
 We ate in silence, I sitting on a little bench by the 
 door, with my plate on the seat beside me, Fruen at 
 table, looking out of the window all the time, and 
 hardly eating anything at all. Now and again she 
 exchanges a word with the old woman, or glances at 
 my plate to see if it is empty. The little place is 
 cramped enough, with but two steps from the window 
 to where I sit ; so we are sitting together, after all. 
 
 When the coffee is ready, I have no room for my cup 
 on the end of the bench, but sit holding it in my hand. 
 Then Fruen turns full-face towards me calmly, and 
 sajys with downcast eyes : 
 
 "There is room here." 
 
 I can hear my own heart beating, and I murmur 
 something : 
 
 "Thanks ; it's quite all right. I'd rather . . ." 
 
 No doubt but that she is uneasy ; she is afraid lest 
 I should say something. She sits once more looking
 
 78 WANDERERS 
 
 away, but I can see she is breathing heavily. Ah, 
 she need have no fear ; I would not trouble her with so 
 much as a word. 
 
 Now I had to take the empty plate and cup and set 
 them back on the table, but I feared to startle her in 
 my approach, for she was still sitting with averted 
 head. I made a little noise with the things to draw 
 her attention, set them down, and thanked her. 
 
 She tried to put on a housewifely tone : 
 
 "Won't you have some more? I'm sure you can't 
 have ..." 
 
 " No, thank you very much. . . . Shall I pack up the 
 things now? But I doubt if I can." 
 
 I happened to glance at my hands ; they had swelled up 
 terribly in the warm room, and were all shapeless and 
 heavy now. I could hardly pack up things with hands like 
 that. She guessed my thought, looked first at my hands, 
 then out across the room, and said, with a little smile : 
 
 " Have you no gloves ? " 
 
 " No ; I never wear them." 
 
 I went back to my place, waiting till she should have 
 packed up the things so I could carry the basket down. 
 Suddenly she turned her head towards me, still without 
 looking up, and asked again : 
 
 " Where do you come from ? " 
 
 "From Nordland." 
 
 Pause. 
 
 I ventured to ask in my turn if Fruen had ever been 
 there. 
 
 "Yes ; when I was a child." 
 
 Then she looked at her watch, as if to check me from 
 any more questions, and at the same time to hint it was 
 getting late. 
 
 I rose at once and went out to the horses. 
 
 It was already growing dusk ; the sky was darker, 
 and a loose, wet sleet was beginning to fall. I took
 
 WANDERERS 79 
 
 my rug down covertly from the box, and hid it under 
 the front seat inside the carriage ; when that was done, 
 I watered the horses and harnessed up. A little after, 
 Fruen came down the hill. I went up for the basket, 
 and met her on the way. 
 
 " Where are you going? " 
 
 " To fetch the basket." 
 
 "You needn't trouble, thanks; there's nothing to 
 take back." 
 
 We went down to the carriage ; she got in, and I 
 made to help her to rights with the rug she had. 
 Then I pulled out my own from under the front seat, 
 taking care to keep the border out of sight lest she 
 should recognise it. 
 
 " Oh, what a blessing ! " cried Fruen. " Why, where 
 was it ? " 
 
 " Under the seat here." 
 
 "Well . . . Of course, I might have borrowed some 
 more rugs from the vicarage, but the poor souls would 
 never have got them back again. . . . Thanks ; I can 
 manage . . . no, thank you ; I can manage by myself. 
 You can drive on now." 
 
 I closed the carriage door and climbed to my seat. 
 
 " Now, if she knocks at the window again, it's that 
 rug," I thought to myself. " Well, I won't stop. . . ." 
 
 Hour after hour passed ; it was pitch dark now, rain- 
 ing and snowing harder than ever, the road growing 
 worse all the time. Now and again I would jump 
 down from the box and run along beside the horses to 
 keep warm ; the water was pouring from my clothes. 
 
 We were nearing home now. 
 
 I was hoping there would not be too much light 
 when we drove up, so that she recognised the rug. 
 Unfortunately, there were lights in all the windows, 
 waiting her arrival. 
 
 In desperation I checked the horses a little before
 
 8o WANDERERS 
 
 we got to the steps, and got down to open the carriage 
 door. 
 
 "But why . . . what on earth have you pulled up 
 here for?" 
 
 "I only thought if perhaps Fruen wouldn't mind 
 getting out here. It's all mud on ahead . . . the 
 wheels . . ." 
 
 She must have thought I was trying to entice her 
 into something, Heaven knows ! . . . 
 
 " Drive on, man, do ! " she said. 
 
 The horses moved on, and the carriage stopped just 
 where the light was at its full. 
 
 Emma came out to receive her mistress. Fruen 
 handed her the rugs all in a bundle, as she had rolled 
 them up before getting out of the carriage. 
 
 "Thanks," she said to me, glancing round as she 
 went in. " Heavens, how dreadfully wet you are ! " 
 
 XXV 
 
 A curious piece of news awaited 'me: Falkenberg 
 had taken service with the Captain as a farm hand. 
 
 This upset the plan we had agreed on, and left me 
 alone once more. I could not understand a word of it 
 all. Anyhow, I could think it over to-morrow. . . . 
 By two in the morning I was still lying awake, 
 shivering and thinking. All those hours I could not 
 get warm ; then at last it turned hot, and I lay there 
 in full fever. . . . How frightened she had been 
 yesterday dared not sit down to eat with me by the 
 roadside, and never opened her eyes to me once 
 through all the journey. . . . 
 
 Coming to my senses for a moment, it occurs to 
 me I might wake Falkenberg with my tossing about, 
 and perhaps say things in my utlirium. That would 
 never do. I clench my teeth and jump up, get into my
 
 WANDERERS 81 
 
 clothes again, scramble down the stairs, and set out 
 over the fields at a run. After a little my clothes 
 begin to warm me ; I make towards the woods, towards 
 the spot where we had been working ; sweat and rain 
 pour down my face. If only I can find the saw, and 
 work the fever out of my body 'tis an old and tried 
 cure of mine, that. The saw is nowhere to be seen, 
 but I come upon the axe I had left there Saturday 
 evening, and set to work with that. It is almost too 
 dark to see at all, but I feel at the cut now and then 
 with my hands, and bring down several trees. The 
 sweat pours off me now. 
 
 Then, feeling exhausted enough, I hide the axe in its 
 old place ; it is getting light now, and I set off at a run 
 for home. 
 
 " Where have you been? " asks Falkenberg. 
 
 Now, I do not want him to know about my having 
 taken cold the day before, and perhaps go making talk 
 of it in the kitchen ; I simply mutter something about 
 not knowing quite where I have been. 
 
 "You've been up to see Ronnaug, I bet," he 
 said. 
 
 I answered : yes, I had been with Ronnaug, since 
 he'd guessed it. 
 
 " 'Twas none so hard to guess," he said. " Anyhow, 
 you won't see me running after any of them now." 
 
 "Going to have Emma, then ? " 
 
 " Why, it looks that way. It's a pity you can't get 
 taken on here, too. Then you might get one of the 
 others, perhaps." 
 
 And he went on talking of how I might perhaps have 
 got my pick of the other girls, but the Captain had no 
 use for me. I wasn't even to go out to-morrow to the 
 wood. . . . The words sound far away, reaching me 
 across a sea of sleep that is rolling towards me. 
 
 Next morning the fever is gone ; I am still a little 
 6
 
 82 WANDERERS 
 
 weak, but make ready to go out to the wood all the 
 same. 
 
 "You won't need to put on your woodcutting 
 things again," says Falkenberg. "I told you that 
 before." 
 
 True ! Nevertheless, I put on those things, seeing 
 the others are wet. Falkenberg is a little awkward 
 with me now, because of breaking our plan ; by way of 
 excuse, he says he thought I was taking work at the 
 vicarage. 
 
 "So you're not coming up to the hills, then?" I 
 asked. 
 
 " H'm ! No, I don't think so no. And you know 
 yourself, I'm sick of tramping around. I'll not get a 
 better chance than this." 
 
 I make as if it was no great matter to me, and take 
 up a sudden interest in Fetter ; worst of all for him, 
 poor fellow, to be turned out and nowhere to go. 
 
 " Nowhere to go?" echoes Falkenberg. " When he's 
 lain here the three weeks he's allowed to stay sick by 
 law, he'll go back home again. His father's a farmer." 
 
 Then Falkenberg declares it's like losing part of 
 himself to have me go. If it wasn't for Emma, he'd 
 break his word to the Captain after all. 
 
 " Here," he says, " I'll give you these." 
 
 " What's that ?" 
 
 "It's the certificates. I shan't want them now, 
 but they may be the saving of you at a pinch. If you 
 ever wanted to tune a piano, say." 
 
 And he hands me the papers and the key. 
 
 But, seeing I haven't his ear for music, the things 
 are no use to me ; and I tell him so. I could better 
 handle a grindstone than a piano. 
 
 Whereat Falkenberg bursts out laughing, relieved 
 to find me ready with a jest to the last. . . . 
 
 Falkenberg goes out. I have time to laze a little,
 
 WANDERERS 83 
 
 and lie down all dressed on the bed, resting and 
 thinking. Well, our work was at an end ; we should 
 have had to go anyhow. I could not reckon on staying 
 here for all eternity. The only thing outside all 
 calculation was that Falkenberg should stay. If only 
 it had been me they'd offered this work, I'd have 
 worked enough for two ! Now, was there any chance 
 of buying him off, I wondered ? To tell the truth, I 
 fancied I had noticed something before ; as if the 
 Captain were not altogether pleased to have this 
 labourer about the place bearing his own name. Well, 
 perhaps I had been wrong. 
 
 I thought and thought. After all, I had been a good 
 workman, as far as I knew, and I had never stolen a 
 moment of the Captain's time for work on my own 
 invention. . . . 
 
 I fell asleep again, and wakened at the sound of 
 footsteps on the stairs. Before I had time to get 
 properly to my feet, there was the Captain himself in 
 the doorway. 
 
 "Don't get up," he said kindly, and turned as if to 
 go again. " Still, seeing you're awake, we might 
 settle up. What do you say ? " 
 
 I said it was as he pleased, and many thanks. 
 " I ought to tell you, though, both your friend and I 
 thought you were going to take service at the vicarage, 
 and so ... And now the weather's broken up, there's 
 no doing more among the timber and, besides, we've 
 got down all there was to come. Well, now ; I've 
 settled with the other man. I don't know if 
 you'd . . ." 
 
 I said I would be quite content with the same. 
 " H'm ! Your friend and I agreed you ought to have 
 more per day." 
 
 Falkenberg had said no word of this to me ; it 
 sounded like the Captain's own idea.
 
 84 WANDERERS 
 
 " I agreed with him we should share alike," said I. 
 
 "But you were sort of foreman; of course, you 
 ought to have fifty Ore per day extra." 
 
 I saw my hesitation displeased him, and let him 
 reckon it out as he pleased. When he gave me the 
 money, I said it was more than I had reckoned with. 
 The Captain answered : 
 
 "Very pleased to hear it. And I've written a few 
 lines here that might be useful, saying you've worked 
 well the time you were here." 
 
 He handed me the paper. 
 
 A just and kindly man, the Captain. He said 
 nothing now about the idea of laying on water to the 
 house next spring ; I took it he'd his reasons for that, 
 and did not like to trouble him. 
 
 Then he asked : 
 
 " So you're going off now to work on the railway? " 
 
 I said I was not quite sure as to that. 
 
 " Well, well . . . anyhow, thanks for the time 
 you've been with us." 
 
 He moved towards the door. And I, miserable 
 weakling that I was, could not hold myself in check, 
 but asked : 
 
 "You won't be having any work for me later on, 
 perhaps, in the spring?" 
 
 " I don't know ; we shall see. I ... well, it all 
 depends. If you should happen to be anywhere near, 
 why . . . What about that machine of yours ? " 
 
 I ventured to ask if I might leave it on the place. 
 
 " Certainly," said the Captain. 
 
 When he had gone I sat down on the bed. Well, 
 it was all over now. Ay, so it was and Lord have 
 mercy on us all ! Nine o'clock ; she is up she is there 
 in the house I can see from this very window. Well, 
 let me get away and have done with it. 
 
 I get out my sack and stow away my things, put on
 
 WANDERERS 85 
 
 my wet jacket over my blouse, and am ready to start. 
 But I sit down again. 
 
 Emma comes in: "V<zrsaagod\ there's something 
 ready for you in the kitchen." 
 
 To my horror she had my rug over one arm. 
 
 "And Fruen told me to ask if this wasn't your 
 rug." 
 
 " Mine ? No ; I've got mine here with my things." 
 
 Emma goes off again with the rug. 
 
 Well, how could I say it was mine ? Devil take the 
 rug ! . . . Should I go down to the kitchen or not ? I 
 might be able to say good-bye and thanks at the same 
 time nothing strange in that. 
 
 Emma came in again with the rug and laid it down 
 neatly folded on a stool. 
 
 " If you don't hurry up, the coffee'll be cold," 
 she says. 
 
 "What did you put that rug there for? " 
 
 "Fruen told me to." 
 
 "Oh, well, perhaps it's Falkenberg's," I muttered. 
 
 Emma asks : 
 
 "Are you going away now for good ? " 
 
 " Yes, seeing you won't have anything to do 
 with me." 
 
 " You ! " says Emma, with a toss of her head. 
 
 I went down with Emma to the kitchen ; sitting at 
 table, I saw the Captain going out to the woods. 
 Good he was gone now, perhaps, Fruen might 
 come out. 
 
 I finished my meal and got up. Should I go off now, 
 and leave it at that ? Of course ; what else ? I took 
 leave of the maids, with a jesting word to each in turn. 
 
 "I'd have liked to say good-bye to Fruen, too, 
 but . . ." 
 
 " Fruen's indoors. I'll . . ." 
 
 Emma goes in, and comes back a moment later.
 
 86 WANDERERS 
 
 " Fruen's lying down with a headache. She sent her 
 very good wishes." 
 
 " Come again ! " said all the girls as I set off. 
 
 I walk away out of the place, with my sack under 
 my arm. Then suddenly I remembered the axe ; Fal- 
 kenberg might not find it where I'd put it. I went 
 back, knocked at the kitchen door, and left a message 
 for him where it was. 
 
 Going down the road, I turned once or twice and 
 looked back towards the windows of the house. Then 
 all was out of sight. 
 
 XXVI 
 
 I circled round all that day, keeping near to 0vreb0 ; 
 looked in at one or two farms to ask for work, and 
 wandered on again like an outcast, aimlessly. It was 
 a chill, unkindly day, and I had need of all my walking 
 to keep warm. 
 
 Towards evening I made over to my old working 
 place among the Captain's timber. I heard no sound 
 of the axe ; Falkenberg had gone home. I found the 
 trees I had felled the night before, and laughed out- 
 right at the ghastly looking stumps I had left. Fal- 
 kenberg would surely have seen the havoc, and wondered 
 who could have done it. Possibly he might have set it 
 down to witchcraft, and fled home accordingly before it 
 got dark. Falkenberg ! . . . Hahaha ! 
 
 But it was no healthy merriment, I doubt a thing 
 born of the fever and the weakness that followed it. 
 And I soon turned sorrowful once more. Here, on this 
 spot, she had stood one day with that girl friend of 
 hers ; they had come out and talked to us in the 
 woods. . . . 
 
 When it was dark enough I started down towards 
 the house. Perhaps I might sleep in the loft again
 
 WANDERERS 87 
 
 to-night ; then to-morrow, when her headache was 
 gone, she might come out. I went down near enough 
 to see the lights of the house, then I turned back. No, 
 perhaps it was too early yet. 
 
 Then for a time I should reckon about two hours 
 I wandered round and sat down a bit, wandered again 
 and sat down a bit ; then I moved up towards the house 
 again. Now I could perfectly well go up in the loft 
 and lie down there. As for Falkenberg miserable 
 worm ! let him dare to say a word ! Now I know 
 what I will do. I will hide my sack in the woods before 
 I go up, so as to look as if I had only come back for 
 some little thing I had forgotten. 
 
 And I go back to the woods. 
 
 No sooner have I hidden the sack than I realise I am 
 not concerned at all with Falkenberg and sleeping in 
 the loft. I am a fool and a madman, for the thing I 
 want is not shelter for the night, but a sight of just one 
 creature there before I leave the place. And I say to 
 myself: "My good sir, was it not you that set out to 
 live a quiet life among healthy folk, to win back your 
 peace of mind ? " 
 
 I pull out my sack from its hiding-place, fling it over 
 my shoulder, and move towards the house for the third 
 time, keeping well away from the servants' quarters, 
 and coming round on the south side of the main build- 
 ing. There is a light in the parlour. 
 
 And now, although it is dark, I let down the sack 
 from over my shoulder, not to look like a beggar, and 
 thrust it under my arm as if it were a parcel. So I 
 steal up cautiously towards the house. When I have 
 got near enough, I stop, stand there upright and strong 
 before the windows, take off my cap and stand there 
 still. There is no one to be seen within, not a shadow. 
 The dining-room is all dark ; they have finished their 
 evening meal. It must be late, I tell myself.
 
 88 WANDERERS 
 
 Suddenly the lamp in the parlour goes out, and the 
 whole house seems dead and deserted. I wait a little, 
 then a solitary light shines out upstairs. That must be 
 her room. The light burns for half an hour, perhaps, 
 and then goes out again. She had gone to rest. Good- 
 night ! 
 
 Good-night for ever ! 
 
 And, of course, I shall not come back to this place in 
 the spring. A ridiculous idea ! 
 
 When I got down on to the high road, I shouldered 
 my sack once more and set out on my travels. . . . 
 
 In the morning I go on again, having slept in a barn 
 where it was terribly cold, having nothing to wrap 
 round me ; moreover, I had to start out again just at 
 the coldest hour, about daybreak, lest I should be found 
 there. 
 
 I walk on and on. The woods change from pine to 
 birch and back again. Coming upon a patch of fine, 
 straight-stemmed juniper, I cut myself a staff, and sit 
 down at the edge of the wood to trim it. Here and 
 there among the trees a yellow leaf or so still hangs, 
 but the birches are full of catkins set with pearly drops. 
 Now and again half a dozen small birds swoop down on 
 one of these birches, to peck at the catkins, and then look 
 about for a stone or a rough tree trunk to rub the gum 
 from their beaks. Each is jealous of the rest ; they 
 watch and chase and drive one another away, though 
 there are millions of catkins for them to take all they 
 will. And the one that is chased never does anything 
 but take to flight. If a little bird comes bearing down 
 towards a bigger one, the bigger one will move away ; 
 even a full-grown thrush offers no resistance to a 
 sparrow, but simply takes itself off. I fancy it must 
 be the speed of the attack that does it. 
 
 The cold and discomfort of the morning gradually
 
 WANDERERS 89 
 
 disappear ; it amuses me to watch the various things 
 I meet with on my way, and think a little, idly enough, 
 of every one. The birds were most diverting ; also, it 
 was cheering to reflect that I had my pocket full of 
 money. 
 
 Falkenberg had chanced to mention that morning 
 where Fetter's home was, and I made now for that. 
 There would hardly be work for me on so small a place ; 
 but now that I was rich, it was not work I sought for 
 first of all. Fetter would be coming home soon, no 
 doubt, and perhaps have some news to tell. 
 
 I managed so as to reach the farm in the evening. I 
 said I brought news of their son, that he was much 
 better now, and would soon be home again. And could 
 they put me up for the night ? 
 
 XXVII 
 
 I have been staying here a couple of days ; Fetter has 
 come home, but had nothing to tell. 
 
 "Is all well at 0vreb0?" 
 
 " Ay, there's nothing wrong that I know of." 
 
 "Did you see them all before you left? The Cap- 
 tain, Fruen ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 4 'Nobody ill?" 
 
 "No. Why, who should there be ? " 
 
 "Well, Falkenberg said something about he'd hurt 
 his hand. But I suppose it's all right now, then." 
 
 There was little comfort in this home, though they 
 seemed to be quite well off. Fetter's father was deputy 
 to the Storting, and had taken to sitting reading the 
 papers of an evening. Eh, reading and reading the 
 whole house suffered under it, and the daughters were 
 bored to death. When Fetter came home the entire 
 family set to work reckoning out whether he had got
 
 90 WANDERERS 
 
 his full pay, and if he had lain sick at 0vreb0 for the 
 full time allowed him by law, or " provided by statute," 
 as his father, the deputy, put it. Yesterday, when I 
 happened to break a window a little pane that cost 
 next to nothing there was no end of whispering about 
 it, and unfriendly glances at me from all sides ; so to- 
 day I went up to the store and bought a new pane, and 
 fixed it in properly with putty. Then said the deputy : 
 "You needn't have taken all that trouble over a pane 
 of glass." 
 
 To tell the truth, it was not only for that I had been 
 up to the store ; I also bought a couple of bottles of 
 wine, to show I did not care so much for the price of a 
 pane of glass or so. Also, I bought a sewing-machine, 
 to give the girls when I went away. We could drink 
 the wine this evening ; to-morrow would be Sunday, 
 and we should all have time to lie abed. But on 
 Monday morning I would start off again. 
 
 Things turned out otherwise, however. The two 
 girls had been up in the loft, sniffing at my sack ; both 
 the wine and the sewing-machine had put fancies into 
 their heads ; they imagined all sorts of things, and 
 began throwing out hints. Wait a bit, thought I to 
 myself; my time will come ! 
 
 In the evening I sit with the family in the parlour, 
 talking. We have just finished supper, and the master 
 of the house has put on his spectacles to read the 
 papers. Then someone coughs outside. "There's 
 someone coming in," I say. The girls exchange 
 glances and go out. A little after they open the door 
 and show in two young men. " Come in and sit down," 
 says the wife. 
 
 It struck me just then that these two peasant lads 
 had been invited on the strength of my wine, and that 
 they were sweethearts with the girls. Smart young 
 creatures eighteen, nineteen years old, and already up
 
 WANDERERS 91 
 
 to anything. Well, if they reckoned on that wine now, 
 they'd be mistaken ! Not a drop. . . . 
 
 There was some talking- of the weather ; how it was 
 no better than could be looked for that time of year, 
 but a pity the wet had stopped the ploughing. There 
 was no sort of life in this talk, and one of the girls 
 turned to me and said I was very quiet this evening. 
 How could it be ? 
 
 " Maybe because I'm going away," I answer. " I've 
 a good long way to go between now and Monday 
 morning." 
 
 "Then perhaps we ought to have a parting glass 
 to-night ? " 
 
 There was some giggling at this, as a well-deserved 
 thrust at me for keeping back the wine that miserly 
 fashion. But I did not know these girls, and cared 
 nothing for them, otherwise I had acted differently. 
 
 "What do you mean?" I asked. "I've bought 
 three bottles of wine that I've to take with me to a 
 certain place." 
 
 "And you're going to carry it all that way?" asked 
 the girl, amid much laughter. "As if there were never 
 a store on the road." 
 
 " Frokenen forgets that it's Sunday to-morrow, and 
 the stores on the road will be shut," said I. 
 
 The laugh died away, but I could see the company 
 was no more kindly disposed towards me now for 
 speaking straight out. I turned to the wife, and asked 
 coldly how much I owed her for the time I had stayed. 
 
 But surely there was no hurry wouldn't it do 
 to-morrow ? 
 
 I was in a hurry thank you. I had been there two 
 days what did that come to ? 
 
 She thought over it quite a while ; at last she went 
 out, and got her husband to go with her and work it out 
 together.
 
 92 WANDERERS 
 
 Seeing they stayed so long- away, I went up to the 
 loft, packed my sack all ready, and carried it down into 
 the passage. I proposed to be even more offended, 
 and start off now that very night. It would be a good 
 way of taking leave, as things were. 
 
 When I came into the room again, Fetter said : 
 
 ' ' You don't mean to say you're starting out to-night ? " 
 
 "Yes, I do." 
 
 "You've no call to heed the girls' nonsense, anyway." 
 
 " Herregud, let the old fellow go if he wants to," 
 said his sister. 
 
 At last the deputy and his wife came in again, stiffly 
 and stubbornly silent. 
 
 Well I And how much did I owe them ? 
 
 H'm ! They would leave it to me. 
 
 They were all alike a mean and crafty lot ; I felt 
 myself stifling, and picking out the first note that came 
 to hand I flung it at the woman. 
 
 Was that enough ? 
 
 H'm ! A tidy bit, for sure, but still . . . And some 
 might say 'twas enough, but . . . 
 
 How much was it I had given her ? 
 
 A five-Kroner note. 
 
 Well, perhaps it was barely enough ; I felt in my 
 pocket for some more. 
 
 "No, mother, it was a ten-Kroner," said Fetter. 
 "And that's too much ; you'll have to give him some- 
 thing back." 
 
 The old woman opens her hand, looks at the note, 
 and turns so very surprised all at once. 
 
 "Why, so it is, ten Kroner, yes ... I didn't pro- 
 perly look. Why, then, 'tis right enough, and many 
 thanks. . . ." 
 
 Her husband, in embarrassment, starts talking to the 
 two lads of what he'd been reading in the paper ; nasty 
 accident ; hand crushed in a threshing-machine. The
 
 WANDERERS 93 
 
 girls pretended not to notice me, but sat like two cats 
 all the time, with necks drawn in and eyes as thin as 
 knife blades. Nothing to stay for here good-bye to 
 them all. 
 
 The old woman comes out in the passage and tries 
 making up to me. 
 
 " If only you'd lend us just one of those bottles now," 
 she says, "'twould be a real kindness, that it would. 
 With the two lads sitting there and all." 
 
 " Farvel" said I shortly, and would hear no more. 
 
 I had my sack over my shoulder, and the sewing- 
 machine in one hand ; it was a heavy load, and the 
 muddy road made things no easier. But for all that I 
 walked with a light heart. It was a miserable business 
 altogether, and I might as well admit I had acted a 
 trifle meanly. Meanly ? Not a bit ! I formed myself 
 into a little committee, and pointed out that those 
 infernal girls had planned to entertain their sweet- 
 hearts with my wine. Well and good ; but was not 
 my ill-will towards that idea male selfishness on my 
 part? If two strange girls had been invited, instead of 
 two young men, should I not have uncorked the wine 
 without a murmur ? Certainly ! And then as to their 
 calling me an old fellow ; after all, it was perfectly 
 right. Old indeed I must be, since I took offence at 
 being set aside in favour of stray ploughboys. . . . 
 
 But my sense of injury cooled down in the course 
 of that hard walking. The committee meeting was 
 adjourned, and I toiled along hour after hour with my 
 ridiculous burden three bottles of wine and a sewing- 
 machine. It was mild and slightly foggy ; I could not 
 see the lights of a farm till quite close up, and then mostly 
 the dogs would come dashing out on me and hinder 
 me from stealing into a barn. Later and later it grew ; 
 I was tired and discouraged, and plagued myself too 
 with anxiety about the future. Had I not already
 
 94 WANDERERS 
 
 wasted a heap of money on the most useless trash ? I 
 must sell that sewing-machine again now, and get 
 some of it back. 
 
 At long last I came to a place where there was no 
 dog. There was still a light in the window, and, 
 without more ado, I walked up and asked shelter for 
 the night. 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 A young girl sat at a table sewing ; there was no 
 one else in the room. When I asked for shelter, she 
 answered brightly and trustingly that she would see, 
 and went into a little room at the side. I called after 
 her as she went that I would be glad only to sit here by 
 the stove till daylight. 
 
 A little after the girl came in again with her mother, 
 who was still buttoning her clothes about her. 
 Godkvceld ! Shelter for the night? Well, well, there 
 wasn't that room in the place they could make me 
 properly comfortable, but I'd be welcome to the bed- 
 room, such as it was. 
 
 And where would they sleep themselves ? 
 
 Why, it was near day now, and the girl'd be sitting 
 up anyhow for a bit with her sewing. 
 
 What was she sewing to sit up for all night? A 
 new dress ? 
 
 No, only the skirt. She was to wear it to church in 
 the morning, but wouldn't hear of her mother helping. 
 
 I brought up my sewing-machine, and said jestingly 
 that a skirt more or less was a mere trifle for a thing 
 like this. Wait, and I'd show them. 
 
 Was I a tailor, then ? 
 
 No. But I sold sewing-machines. 
 
 I took out the printed directions and studied them to 
 see how it worked. The girl listened attentively ; she
 
 WANDERERS 95 
 
 was a mere child ; her thin fingers were all blue with 
 the dye from the stuff. There was something so poor- 
 looking about those blue fingers ; I brought out some 
 wine and poured out for all of us. Then we go on 
 sewing again I with the printed paper, and the girl 
 working the machine. She is delighted to see how 
 easily it goes, and her eyes are all aglow. 
 
 How old was she? 
 
 Sixteen. Confirmed last year. 
 
 And what was her name? 
 
 Olga. 
 
 Her mother stands watching us, and would dearly 
 like to try the machine herself, but every time she 
 comes near, Olga says: "Be careful, mother, you'll 
 harm it." And when the spool needs filling, and her 
 mother takes the shuttle in her hand a moment, the 
 child is once more afraid it may be " harmed." 
 
 The old woman puts on the coffee-pot, and tends the 
 fire ; the room is soon warm and cosy. The lonely folk 
 are as trusting and kindly as could be. Olga laughs 
 when I make a little jest about the machine. I noted 
 that neither of them asked how much the thing cost, 
 though I had told them it was for sale. They looked 
 on it as hopelessly beyond their reach. But they could 
 still take a delight in seeing it work. 
 
 I hinted that Olga really ought to have a machine 
 like that, seeing she'd got the way of it so neatly all 
 at once. 
 
 Her mother answered it would have to wait till she'd 
 been out in service for a bit. 
 
 Was she going out in service ? 
 
 Why, yes, she hoped so, anyway. Both her other 
 daughters were in service, and doing well thank 
 God. Olga would be meeting them at church in the 
 morning. 
 
 There was a little cracked mirror hanging on one of
 
 96 WANDERERS 
 
 the walls, on the other a few cheap prints had been 
 tacked up pictures of soldiers on horseback and 
 royalties with a great deal of finery. One of these 
 pictures is old and frayed. It is a portrait of the 
 Empress Eugenie, and evidently not a recent purchase. 
 I asked where it had come from. 
 
 The good woman did not know. Must be something 
 her husband had bought in his time. 
 
 "Did he buy it here?" 
 
 More likely 'twould have been at Hersaet, where he 
 had been in service as a young man. Might be thirty 
 years gone now. 
 
 I have a little plan in my head already, and say : 
 
 "That picture is worth a deal of money." 
 
 The woman thinks I am making game of her, so I 
 make a close inspection of the picture, and declare 
 emphatically that it is no cheap print no. 
 
 But the woman is quite stupid, and simply says : 
 well, did I think so, now? The thing had hung there 
 ever since the house was built. It was Olga's, by the 
 way, she had called it hers from the time she was a 
 little one. 
 
 I put on a knowing, mysterious air, and ask for 
 further details of the case where Hersaet might be. 
 
 Hersaet was in the neighbouring parish, some eight 
 miles away. The Lensmand lived there. . . . 
 
 The coffee is ready, and Olga and I call a halt. 
 There are only the fastenings to be done now. I ask 
 to see the blouse she is to wear with the skirt, and it 
 appears that this is not a real blouse at all, but a 
 knitted kerchief. But she has a left-off jacket that 
 one of her sisters gave her, and that will go outside 
 and hide all the rest. 
 
 Olga is growing so fast, I am told, that there's no 
 sense in buying a blouse for her this twelvemonth to 
 come.
 
 WANDERERS 97 
 
 Olga sits sewing on hooks and eyes, and that is soon 
 done. Then she turns so sleepy, it's a sight to see ; 
 wherefore I put on an air of authority and order her 
 to bed. Her mother feels constrained to sit up and 
 keep me company, though I tell her myself to go 
 back to bed again. 
 
 "You ought to be properly thankful, I'm sure," says 
 the mother, "to the strange man for all the way he's 
 helped you." 
 
 And Olga comes up to me and gives her hand to 
 thank me, and I turn her round and shuffle her across 
 to the bedroom door. 
 
 "You'd better go too," I say to her mother. "I 
 won't sit talking any more, for I'm tired myself." 
 
 And, seeing I settle down by the stove with my sack 
 under my head, she shakes her head with a smile and 
 goes off too. 
 
 XXIX 
 
 I am happy and comfortable here ; it is morning ; 
 the sun coming in through the window, and both 
 Olga and her mother with their hair so smooth and 
 plastered down, a wonder to see. 
 
 After breakfast, which I share with the two of them, 
 getting quantities of coffee with it, Olga gets herself 
 up in her new skirt and her knitted kerchief and the 
 jacket. Eh, that wonderful jacket ; lasting at the edge 
 all round, and two rows of buttons of the same, and 
 the neck and sleeves trimmed with braid. But little 
 Olga could not fill it out. Nothing near it ! The child 
 is all odd corners and angles, like a young calf. 
 
 " Couldn't we just take it in a bit at the sides?" I 
 ask. "There's plenty of time." 
 
 But mother and daughter exchange glances, plainly 
 saying, 'tis Sunday, and no using needle or knife that 
 7
 
 98 WANDERERS 
 
 day. I understand them well enough, for I would have 
 thought exactly the same myself in my childhood. So 
 I try to find a way out by a little free-thinking: 'tis 
 another matter when it's a machine that does the 
 work ; no more than when an innocent cart comes 
 rumbling down the road, as it may any Sunday. 
 
 But no ; this is beyond them. And anyhow, the 
 jacket must give her room to grow ; in a couple of 
 years it would fit her nicely. 
 
 I thought about for something I could slip into 
 Olga's hand as she went ; but I've nothing, so I gave 
 her a silver Krone. And straightway she gives her 
 hand in thanks, and shows the coin to her mother, and 
 whispers she will give it to her sister at church. Her 
 eyes are simply glowing with joy at the thought. 
 And her mother, hardly less moved herself, answers 
 yes, perhaps she ought. . . . 
 
 Olga goes off to church in her long jacket ; goes 
 shambling down the hill with her feet turning in and 
 out any odd way. A sweet and heartening thing to 
 see. . . . 
 
 Hersaet now ; was that a big place ? 
 
 Yes, a fine big place. 
 
 I sit for a while blinking sleepy eyes and mak- 
 ing excursions in etymology. Hersaet might mean 
 Herrescete. l Or possibly some herse 2 might have held 
 sway there. And the herse's daughter was the proudest 
 maiden for far around, and the Jarl himself comes 
 to ask her hand. And the year after she bears him 
 a son, who becomes king. . . . 
 
 In a word, I would go to Hersaet. Seeing it was all 
 
 the same where I went, I would go there. Possibly 
 
 I might get work at the Lensmand's, or there was 
 
 always the chance of something turning up ; at any 
 
 1 Manor. 2 Local chieftain in ancient times.
 
 WANDERERS 99 
 
 rate, I should see new people. And, having thus 
 decided upon Hersaet, I felt I had a purpose before 
 me. 
 
 The good woman gives me leave to lie down on her 
 bed, for I am drowsy and stupid for lack of sleep. 
 A fine blue spider clambers slowly up the wall, and I 
 lie watching it till I fall asleep. 
 
 After a couple of hours I wake suddenly, feeling 
 rested and fresh. The woman was cooking the dinner. 
 I pack up my sack, pay her for my stay, and end up by 
 saying I'd like to make an exchange ; my sewing- 
 machine for Olga's picture there. 
 
 The woman incredulous as ever. 
 
 Never mind, say I ; if she was content, why, so 
 was I. The picture was of value ; I knew what I was 
 doing. 
 
 I took down the picture from the wall, blew the dust 
 from it, and rolled it up carefully ; the wall showed 
 lighter in a square patch where it had been. Then I 
 took my leave. 
 
 The woman followed me out : wouldn't I wait now, 
 till Olga came back, so she could thank me? Oh, 
 now if I only would ! 
 
 I couldn't. Hadn't time. Tell her from me, if there 
 was anything she couldn't make out, to look in the 
 directions. . . . 
 
 The woman stood looking after me as I went. I 
 swaggered down the road, whistling with satisfaction 
 at what I had done. Only the sack to carry now ; I 
 was rested, the sun was shining, and the road had 
 dried up a little. I fell to singing with satisfaction 
 at what I had done. 
 
 Neurasthenia . . . 
 
 I reached Hersset the following day. At first I felt 
 like passing by, it looked so big and fine a place ; but 
 after I had talked a bit with one of the farm hands,
 
 ioo WANDERERS 
 
 I decided to try the Lensmand after all. I had worked 
 for rich people before let me see, there was Captain 
 Falkenberg of 0vreb0 . . . 
 
 The Lensmand was a little, broad-shouldered man, 
 with a long white beard and dark eyebrows. He 
 talked gruffly, but had kindly eyes ; afterwards, I found 
 he was a merry soul, who could laugh and jest heartily 
 enough at times. Now and again, too, he would show 
 a touch of pride in his position, and his wealth, and 
 like to have it recognised. 
 
 "No, I've no work for you. Where do you come 
 from ? " 
 
 I named some places I had lately passed. 
 
 " No money, I suppose, and go about begging? " 
 
 No, I did not beg ; I had money enough. 
 
 "Well, you'll have to go on farther. I've nothing 
 for you to do here ; the ploughing's done. Can you cut 
 staves for a fence ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " H'm. Well, I don't use wooden fences any more. 
 I've put up wire. Do bricklayer's work? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "That's a pity. I've had bricklayers at work here 
 for weeks ; you might have got a job. But it's all done 
 now." 
 
 He stood poking his stick in the ground. 
 
 " What made you come to me ? " 
 
 "Everyone said go to the Lensmand if I wanted work." 
 
 "Oh, did they? Well, I've always got a crowd 
 here working at something or other those bricklayers, 
 now. Can you put up a fence that's proof against 
 fowls? For that's more than any soul on earth ever 
 could, haha ! Worked for Captain Falkenberg, you 
 said, at 0vreb0?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " What were you doing there? "
 
 WANDERERS 101 
 
 " Felling timber." 
 
 "I don't know him he lives a long way off. But 
 I've heard of him. Any papers from him ? " 
 
 I showed him what the Captain had written. 
 
 " Come along with me," said the Lensmand abruptly. 
 
 He led me round the house and into the kitchen. 
 
 " Give this man a thorough good meal he's come 
 a long way, and ..." 
 
 I sat down in the big, well-lighted kitchen to the 
 best meal I had had for a long time. I had just 
 finished when the Lensmand came out again. 
 
 " Look here, you . . ." he began. 
 
 I got up at once and stood straight as an arrow a 
 piece of politeness which I fancy was not lost on him. 
 
 " No, no, finish your meal, go on. Finished? Sure? 
 Well, I've been thinking . . . Come along with me." 
 
 He took me out to the woodshed. 
 
 "You might do a bit of work getting in firewood ; 
 what do you say to that? I've two men on the place, 
 but one of them I shall want for summoners' work, 
 so you'll have to go woodcutting with the other. 
 You can see there's plenty of wood here as it is, but 
 it'll take no harm lying here ; can't have too much of 
 that sort of thing. You said you had money ; let 
 me see." 
 
 I showed him the notes I had. 
 
 "Good! I'm an official, you see, and have to know 
 my folk. Though I don't suppose you've anything 
 on your conscience, seeing you come to the Lensmand, 
 haha ! Well, as I said, you can give yourself a rest 
 to-day, and start cutting wood to-morrow." 
 
 I set to work getting ready for the next day, 
 looked to my clothes, filed the saw, and ground my 
 axe. I had no gloves, but it was hardly weather 
 for gloves as yet, and there was nothing else I was 
 short of.
 
 102 WANDERERS 
 
 The Lensmand came out to me several times, and 
 talked in a casual way ; it amused him, perhaps, to 
 talk to a strange wanderer. "Here, Margrethe ! " 
 he called to his wife, as she went across the courtyard ; 
 " here's the new man ; I'm going to send him out 
 cutting wood." 
 
 XXX 
 
 We had no special orders, but set to work as we 
 thought best, felling dry-topped trees, and in the 
 evening the Lensmand said it was right enough. But 
 he would show us himself the next day. 
 
 I soon realised that the work here would not last 
 till Christmas. With the weather we were having, 
 and the ground as it was, frost at night and no snow, 
 we felled a deal each day, and nothing to hinder the 
 work ; the Lensmand himself thought we were devilish 
 smart at felling trees, haha ! The old man was easy 
 to work with ; he often came out to us in the woods 
 and chatted and made jokes, and as I never joked in 
 return, he took me, no doubt, for a dull dog, but a 
 steady fellow. He began sending me on errands now, 
 with letters to and from the post. 
 
 There were no children on the place, no young folk 
 at all save the maids and one of the farm-hands, so the 
 evenings were rather long. By way of passing the time, 
 I got hold of some tin and acids and re-tinned some 
 old pots and kettles in the kitchen. But that was soon 
 done. And then one evening I came to write the follow- 
 ing letter : 
 
 " If only I -were -where you are, I -would work for two." 
 
 Next day I had to go to the post for the Lensmand ; 
 I took my letter with me and posted it. I was very 
 uneasy. Moreover, thejetter looked clumsy as I sent 
 it, for I had got the paper from the Lensmand, and had
 
 WANDERERS 103 
 
 to paste a whole strip of stamps along the envelope to 
 cover where his name was printed on. I wondered 
 what she would say when she got it. There was no 
 name, nor any place given in the letter. 
 
 And so we work in the woods, the other man and I, 
 talk of our little affairs, working with heart and soul, 
 and getting on well together. The days passed ; al- 
 ready, worse luck, I could see the end of our work 
 ahead, but I had a little hope the Lensmand might find 
 something else for me to do when the woodcutting was 
 finished. Something would surely turn up. I had no 
 wish to set out wandering anew before Christmas. 
 
 Then one day I go to the post again, and there is a 
 letter for me. I cannot understand that it is for me, 
 and I stand turning and twisting it confusedly ; but 
 the man knows me now ; he reads from the envelope 
 again and says yes, it is my name right enough, and 
 care of the Lensmand. Suddenly a thought strikes me, 
 and I grasp the letter. Yes, it is for me ; I forgot . . . 
 yes, of course . . . 
 
 And I hurry out into the road, with something ringing 
 in my ears all the time, and open the letter, and read : 
 
 " Skriu ikke tU mig - " * 
 
 No name, no place, but so clear and lovely. The 
 first word was underlined. 
 
 I do not know how I got home. I remember I sat 
 on a stone by the roadside and read the letter and put 
 it in my pocket, and walked on till I came to another 
 stone and did the same again. Sfiriu ikke. But did 
 that mean I might come and perhaps speak with her ? 
 That little, dainty piece of paper, and the swift, delicate 
 characters. Her hands had held it, her eyes had looked 
 on it, her breath had touched it. And then at the end 
 a dash. Which might have a world of meaning. 
 1 " Do not -write (skrive) to me."
 
 104 WANDERERS 
 
 I came home, handed in the Lensmand's post, and 
 went out into the wood. I was dreaming all the time. 
 My comrade, no doubt, must have found me an incom- 
 prehensible man, seeing me read a letter again and 
 again, and put it back with my money. 
 
 How splendid of her to have found me ! She must 
 have held the envelope up to the light, no doubt, and 
 read the Lensmand's name under the stamps ; then laid 
 her beautiful head on one side and half closed her eyes 
 and thought for a moment : he is working for the 
 Lensmand at Hersaet now. . . . 
 
 That evening, when we were back home, the Lens- 
 mand came out and talked to us of this and that, and 
 asked : 
 
 "Didn't you say you'd been working for Captain 
 Falkenberg at 0vreb0 ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I see he's invented a machine." 
 
 "A machine?" 
 
 "A patent saw for timber work. It's in the 
 papers." 
 
 I started at this. Surely he hadn't invented my 
 patent saw ? 
 
 "There must be some mistake," I said. " It wasn't 
 the Captain who invented it." 
 
 "Oh, wasn't it?" 
 
 " No/ it wasn't. But the saw was left with him." 
 
 And I told the Lensmand all about it. He went 
 in to fetch the paper, and we both read what it 
 said : " New Invention . . . Our Correspondent 
 on the spot ... Of great importance to owners of 
 timber lands . . . Principle of the mechanism is as 
 follows: ..." 
 
 " You don't mean to say it's your invention? " 
 
 "Yes, it is." 
 
 " And the Captain is trying to steal it ? Why, this'll
 
 WANDERERS 105 
 
 be a pretty case, a mighty pretty case. Leave it to me. 
 Did anyone see you working on the thing? " 
 
 " Yes, all his people on the place did." 
 
 " Lord save me if it's not the stiffest bit of business 
 I've heard for a long time. Walk off with another 
 man's invention ! And the money, too . . . why, it 
 might bring you in a million ! " 
 
 I was obliged to confess I could not understand the 
 Captain. 
 
 "Don't you? Haha, but I do! I've not been 
 Lensmand all this time for nothing. No ; I've had 
 my suspicions that he wasn't so rich as he pretended. 
 Well, I'll send him a bit of a letter from me, just a line 
 or so what do you say to that ? Hahaha ! You leave 
 it to me." 
 
 But at this I began to feel uneasy. The Lensmand 
 was too violent all at once ; it might well be that the 
 Captain was not to blame in the matter at all, and that 
 the newspaper man had made the mistake himself. I 
 begged the Lensmand to let me write myself. 
 
 "And agree to divide the proceeds with that rascal? 
 Never ! You leave the whole thing in my hands. And, 
 anyhow, if you were to write yourself, you couldn't set 
 it out properly the way I can." 
 
 But I worked on him until at last he agreed that I 
 should write the first letter, and then he should take it 
 up after. I got some of the Lensmand's paper again. 
 
 I got no writing done that evening ; it had been an 
 exciting day, and my mind was all in a turmoil still. 
 I thought and reckoned it out ; for Fruen's sake I 
 would not write directly to the Captain, and risk caus- 
 ing her unpleasantness as well ; no, I would send a line 
 to my comrade, Lars Falkenberg, to keep an eye on 
 the machine. 
 
 That night I had another visit from the corpse that 
 miserable old woman in her night-shift, that would not
 
 io6 WANDERERS 
 
 leave me in peace on account of her thumbnail. I had 
 had a long 1 spell of emotion the day before, so this night 
 she took care to come. Frozen with horror, I saw her 
 come gliding in, stop in the middle of the room, and 
 stretch out her hand. Over against the other wall lay 
 my fellow-woodcutter in his bed, and it was a strange 
 relief to me to hear that he too lay groaning and moving 
 restlessly ; at any rate there were two of us to share 
 the danger. I shook my head, to say I had buried the 
 nail in a peaceful spot, and could do no more. But the 
 corpse stood there still. I begged her pardon ; but 
 then, suddenly, I was seized with a feeling of annoy- 
 ance ; I grew angry, and told her straight out I'd have 
 no more of her nonsense. I'd borrowed that nail of 
 hers at a pinch, but I'd done all I could do months ago, 
 and buried it again. ... At that she came gliding 
 sideways over to my pillow, trying to get behind me. 
 I flung myself up in bed and gave a shriek. 
 
 " What is it? " asked the lad from the other bed. 
 
 I rub my eyes and answer I'd been dreaming, that 
 was all. 
 
 " Who was it came in just now? " asks the boy. 
 
 " I don't know. Was there anyone in here ? " 
 
 " I saw someone going . . ." 
 
 XXXI 
 
 After a couple of days, I set myself down calmly and 
 loftily to write to Falkenberg. I had a bit of a saw 
 thing I'd left there at 0vreb0, I wrote ; it might be a 
 useful thing for owners of timber lands some day, and 
 I proposed to come along and fetch it away shortly. 
 Please keep an eye on it and see it doesn't get 
 damaged. 
 
 Yes, I wrote in that gentle style. That was the 
 most dignified way. And since Falkenberg, of course,
 
 WANDERERS 107 
 
 would mention it in the kitchen, and perhaps show the 
 letter round, it had to be delicacy itself. But it was 
 not all delicacy and nothing else ; I fixed a definite 
 date, to make it serious : I will come for the machine 
 on Monday, nth December. 
 
 I thought to myself: there, that's clear and sound ; 
 if the machine's not there that Monday, why, then, 
 something will happen. 
 
 I took the letter to the post myself, and stuck a strip 
 of stamps across the envelope as before. . . . 
 
 My beautiful ecstasy was still on me. I had received 
 the loveliest letter in the world ; here it was in my 
 breast pocket ; it was to me. Shril) ikke. No, indeed, 
 but I could come. And then a dash at the end. 
 
 There wasn't anything wrong, by any chance, about 
 that underlining the word : as, for instance, meaning to 
 emphasise the whole thing as an order ? Ladies were 
 always so fond of underlining all sorts of words, and 
 putting in dashes here, there, and everywhere. But 
 not she ; no, not she ! 
 
 A few days more, and the work at the Lensmand's 
 would be at an end ; it fitted in very well, everything 
 worked out nicely ; on the nth I was to be at 0vreb0. 
 And that perhaps not a minute too soon. If the Captain 
 really had any idea of his own about my machine, it 
 would be necessary to act at once. Was a stranger to 
 come stealing my hard-earned million ? Hadn't I toiled 
 for it ? I almost began to regret the gentleness of my 
 letter to Falkenberg ; I might have made it a good deal 
 sharper ; now, perhaps, he would imagine I was too 
 soft to stand up for myself. Why, he might even take 
 it into his head to bear witness against me, and say 
 I hadn't invented the machine at all ! Hoho, Master 
 Falkenberg, just try it on ! In the first place, 'twill 
 cost you your eternal salvation ; and if that's not 
 enough, I'll have you up for perjury before my friend
 
 1 08 WANDERERS 
 
 and patron, the Lensmand. And you know what 
 that'll mean. 
 
 " Of course you must go," said the Lensmand when 
 I spoke to him about it. "And just come back here 
 to me with your machine. You must look after your 
 interests, of course ; it may be a question of something 
 considerable." 
 
 The following day's post brought a piece of news 
 that changed the situation in a moment ; there was a 
 letter from Captain Falkenberg himself in the paper, 
 saying it was due to a misunderstanding that the new 
 timber saw had been stated as being of his invention. 
 The apparatus had been designed by a man who had 
 worked on his estate some time back. As to its 
 value, he would not express any opinion. Captain 
 Falkenberg. 
 
 The Lensmand and I looked at each other. 
 
 " Well, what do you say now ? " he asked. 
 
 "That the Captain, at any rate, is innocent." 
 
 " Ho ! D'you know what I think ? " 
 
 Pause. The Lensmand playing Lensmand from top 
 to toe, unravelling schemes and plots. 
 
 " He is not innocent," said he. 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 "Ah, I've seen that sort of thing before. Drawing 
 in his horns, that's all. Your letter put him on his 
 guard. Haha ! " 
 
 At this I had to confess to the Lensmand that I had 
 not written to the Captain at all, but had merely sent a 
 bit of a note to one of the hands at 0vreb0 ; and even 
 that letter could not have reached there yet, seeing it 
 was only posted the night before. 
 
 This left the Lensmand dumb, and he gave up un- 
 ravelling things. On the other hand, he seemed from 
 now onward to be greatly in doubt as to whether the 
 whole thing had any value at all.
 
 WANDERERS 109 
 
 " Quite likely the machine's no good at all," he said. 
 But then he added kindly: "I mean, it may need 
 touching up a bit, and improving. You've seen your- 
 self how they're always altering things like warships 
 and flying-machines. . . . Are you still determined 
 to go ? " 
 
 No more was said about my coming back here and 
 bringing the machine with me. But the Lensmand 
 wrote me a very nice recommendation. He would 
 gladly have kept me on longer, it said, but the 
 work was interrupted by private affairs of my own 
 elsewhere. . . . 
 
 In the morning, when I was ready to start, a little 
 girl stood in the courtyard waiting for me to come out. 
 It was Olga. Was there ever such a child ? She must 
 have been afoot since midnight to get here so early. 
 And there she stood in her blue skirt and her jacket. 
 
 " That you, Olga ? Where are you going ? " 
 
 She had come to see me. 
 
 How did she know I was here? 
 
 She had asked about me and found out where I was. 
 And please was it true she was to keep the sewing- 
 machine? But of course it couldn't . . . 
 
 Yes, the machine was hers all right ; hadn't I taken 
 her picture in exchange? Did it work all right? 
 
 Yes, it worked all right. 
 
 We did not talk much together ; I wanted to get 
 her away before the Lensmand came out and began 
 asking questions. 
 
 "Well, run along home now, child ; you've a long 
 way to go." 
 
 Olga gives me her hand it is swallowed up 
 completely in mine, and she lets it lie there as long 
 as I will. Then she thanks me, and shambles gaily 
 off again. And her toes turning in and out all 
 odd ways.
 
 no WANDERERS 
 
 XXXII 
 
 I am nearly at my goal. 
 
 Sunday evening I lay in a watchman's hut not far 
 from 0vrebo, so as to be on the place early Monday 
 morning. By nine o'clock everyone would be up, then 
 surely I must be lucky enough to meet the one I sought. 
 
 I had grown dreadfully nervous, and kept imagining 
 ugly things. I had written a nice letter to Falkenberg, 
 using no sharp words, but the Captain might after all 
 have been offended at my fixing the date like that ; 
 giving him so and so much time. ... If only I had 
 never written at all ! 
 
 Coming up towards the house I stoop more and 
 more, and make myself small, though indeed I had 
 done no wrong. I turn off from the road up, and go 
 round so as to reach the outbuildings first and there 
 I come upon Falkenberg. He is washing down the 
 carriage. We gave each other greeting, and were 
 the same good comrades as before. 
 
 Was he going out with the carriage? 
 
 No, just come back the night before. Been to the 
 railway station. 
 
 Who had gone away, then ? 
 
 Fruen. 
 
 Fruen ? 
 
 Fruen, yes. 
 
 Pause. 
 
 Really ? And where was Fruen gone to ? 
 
 Gone to stay in town for a bit. 
 
 Pause. 
 
 " Stranger man's been here writing in the papers 
 about that machine of yours," says Falkenberg. 
 
 " Is the Captain gone away too? " 
 
 " No, Captain's at home. You should have seen his 
 face when your letter came."
 
 WANDERERS 1 1 1 
 
 I got Falkenberg to come up to the old loft. I had 
 still two bottles of wine in my sack, and I took them 
 out and we started on them together ; eh, those bottles 
 that I had carried backward and forward, mile after 
 mile, and had to be so careful with, they served me 
 well just now. Save for them Falkenberg would 
 never have said so much. 
 
 "What was that about the Captain and my letter? 
 Did he see it?" 
 
 " Well, it began like this," said Falkenberg. " Fruen 
 was in the kitchen when I came in with the post. 
 ' What letter's that with all those stamps on ? ' she says. 
 I opened it, and said it was from you, to say you were 
 coming on the nth." 
 
 " And what did she say ? " 
 
 "She didn't say any more. Yes, she asked once 
 again, 'Coming on the nth, is he?' And I said 
 yes, he was." 
 
 "And then, a couple of days after, you got orders 
 to drive her to the station ? " 
 
 "Why, yes, it must have been about a couple of 
 days. Well, then, I thought, if Fruen knows about 
 the letter, then Captain surely knows too. D'you 
 know what he said when I brought it in?" 
 
 I made no answer to this, but thought and thought. 
 There must be something behind all this. Was she 
 running away from me ? Madman ! the Captain's lady 
 at 0vreb0 would not run away from one of her labourers. 
 But the whole thing seemed so strange. I had hoped 
 all along she would give me leave to speak with her, 
 since I was forbidden to write. 
 
 Falkenberg went on, a little awkwardly : 
 
 "Well, I showed the Captain your letter, though 
 you didn't say I was to. Was there any harm in 
 that?" 
 
 " It doesn't matter. What did he say ? "
 
 112 WANDERERS 
 
 "'Yes, look after the machine, do,' he said, and 
 made a face. ' In case anyone comes to steal it,' he 
 said." 
 
 "Then the Captain's angry with me now?" 
 
 " Nay, I shouldn't think so. I've heard no more 
 about it since that day." 
 
 It mattered little after all about the Captain. When 
 Falkenberg had taken a deal of wine, I asked him if 
 he knew where Fruen was staying in town. No, but 
 Emma might, perhaps. We get hold of Emma, treat 
 her to wine, talk a lot of nonsense, and work gradually 
 round to the point ; at last asking in a delicate way. 
 No, Emma didn't know the address. But Fruen had 
 gone in to buy things for Christmas, and she was 
 going with Froken Elisabeth from the vicarage, so 
 they'd know the address there. What did I want 
 it for, by the way? 
 
 Well, it was only about a filigree brooch I had got 
 hold of, and wanted to ask if she'd care to buy it. 
 
 " Let's look." 
 
 Luckily I was able to show her the brooch ; it was 
 a beautiful piece of old work ; I had bought it of one 
 of the maids at Hersaet. 
 
 " Fruen wouldn't have it," said Emma. " I wouldn't 
 have it myself." 
 
 " Not if you got me into the bargain, Emma, what ? " 
 And I force myself to jest again. 
 
 Emma goes off. I try drawing out Falkenberg 
 again. Falkenberg was sharp enough at times to 
 understand people. 
 
 Did he still sing for Fruen ? 
 
 Lord, no ; that was all over. Falkenberg wished he 
 hadn't taken service here at all ; 'twas nothing but 
 trouble and misery about the place. 
 
 Trouble and misery? Weren't they friends, then, 
 the Captain and his lady ?
 
 WANDERERS 1 1 3 
 
 Oh yes, they were friends. In the same old way. 
 Last Saturday she had been crying all day. 
 
 " Funny thing it should be like that," say I, " when 
 they're so upright and considerate towards each other." 
 And I watch to see what Falkenberg says to that. 
 
 "Eh, but they're ever weary," says Falkenberg in his 
 Valdres dialect. "And she's losing her looks too. 
 Only in the time you've been gone, she's got all 
 pale and thin." 
 
 I sat up in the loft for a couple of hours, keeping an 
 eye on the main building from my window, but the 
 Captain did not appear. Why didn't he go out ? It 
 was hopeless to wait any longer ; I should have to go 
 without making my excuses to the Captain. I could 
 have found good grounds enough ; I might have put 
 the blame on to the first article in tfie paper, and said it 
 had rather turned my head for the moment and there 
 was some truth in that. Well, all I had to do now 
 was to tie up the machine in a bundle, cover it up 
 as far as possible with my sack, and start off on my 
 wanderings again. 
 
 Emma stole some food for me before I went. 
 
 It was another long journey this time ; first to the 
 vicarage though that was but a little out of the way 
 and then on to the railway station. A little snow was 
 falling, which made it rather heavy walking ; and what 
 was more, I could not take it easy now, but must get 
 on as fast as I could. The ladies were only staying in 
 town for their Christmas shopping, and they had a 
 good start already. 
 
 On the following afternoon I came to the vicarage. 
 I had reckoned out it would be best to speak with 
 Fruen. 
 
 "I'm on my way into town," I told her. "And 
 I've this machine thing with me ; if I might leave the 
 heaviest of the woodwork here meanwhile ? " 
 8
 
 114 WANDERERS 
 
 "Are you going into town?" says Fruen. "But 
 you'll stay here till to-morrow, surely ? " 
 
 "No, thanks all the same. I've got to be in town 
 to-morrow." 
 
 Fruen thinks for a bit and then says : 
 
 " Elisabeth's in town. You might take a parcel in 
 for her something she's forgotten." 
 
 That gives me the address ! I thought to myself. 
 
 " But I've got to get it ready first." 
 
 "Then Fr0ken Elisabeth might be gone again before 
 I got there ? " 
 
 "Oh no; she's with Fru Falkenberg, and they're 
 staying in town for the week." 
 
 This was grand news, joyous news. Now I had both 
 the address and the time. 
 
 Fruen stands watching me sideways, and says : 
 
 " Well, then, you'll stay the night, won't you? You 
 see, it's something I've got to get ready first ..." 
 
 I was given a room in the main building, because it 
 was too cold to sleep in the barn. And when all the 
 household had gone to rest that night, and everything 
 was quiet, came Fruen to my room with the parcel, 
 and said : 
 
 " Excuse my coming so late. But I thought you 
 might be going early to-morrow morning before I 
 was up." 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 So here I am once more in the crush and noise of 
 a city, with its newspapers and people. I have been 
 away from all this for many months now, and find it 
 not unpleasant. I spend a morning taking it all in ; 
 get hold of some other clothes, and set off to find 
 Froken Elisabeth at her address. She was staying 
 with some relatives. 
 
 And now should I be lucky enough to meet the
 
 WANDERERS 1 1 5 
 
 other one? I am restless as a boy. My hands are 
 vulgarly unused to gloves, and I pull them off; then 
 going up the step I notice that my hands do not go at 
 all well with the clothes I am wearing, and I put on 
 my gloves again. Then I ring the bell. 
 
 " Froken Elisabeth? Yes, would you wait a 
 moment ? " 
 
 Froken Elisabeth comes out. " Goddag. You wished 
 to speak to ... Oh, is it you ? " 
 
 I had brought a parcel from her mother. Vcersaagod. 
 
 She tears open the parcel and looks inside. "Oh, 
 fancy Mama thinking of that. The opera-glasses ! 
 We've been to the theatre already. ... I didn't recog- 
 nise you at first." 
 
 "Really! It's not so very long since ..." 
 
 " No, but . . . Tell me, isn't there anyone else you'd 
 like to inquire about ? Haha ! " 
 
 "Yes," said I. 
 
 "Well, she's not here. I'm only staying here with 
 my relations. No, she's at the Victoria." 
 
 "Well, the parcel was for you," said I, trying to 
 master my disappointment. 
 
 " Wait a minute. I was just going out again ; we 
 can go together." 
 
 Froken Elisabeth puts on some over-things, calls out 
 through a door to say she won't be very long, and goes 
 out with me. We take a cab and drive to a quiet 
 cafe. Froken Elisabeth says yes, she loves going to 
 cafes. But there's nothing very amusing about this 
 one. 
 
 Would she rather go somewhere else ? 
 
 "Yes. To the Grand." 
 
 I hesitated ; it might be hardly safe. I had been 
 away for a long time now, and if we met anyone I knew 
 I might have to talk to them. But Frokenen insisted on 
 the Grand. She had had but a few days' practice in the
 
 u6 WANDERERS 
 
 capital, and had already gained a deal of self-assurance. 
 But I liked her so much before. 
 
 We drove off again to the Grand. It was getting 
 towards evening. Fr0kenen picks out a seat right in 
 the brightest spot, beaming all over herself at the fun 
 of it. I ordered some wine. 
 
 "What fine clothes you're wearing now," she says, 
 with a laugh. 
 
 "I couldn't very well corne in here in a workman's 
 blouse." 
 
 " No, of course not. But, honestly, that blouse .. . . 
 shall I tell you what I think? " 
 
 "Yes, do." 
 
 "The blouse suited you better." 
 
 There ! Devil take these town clothes ! I sat 
 there with my head full of other things, and did not 
 care for this sort of talk. 
 
 " Are you staying long in town ? " I asked. 
 
 " As long as Lovise does. We've finished our shop- 
 ping. No, I'm sorry ; it's all too short." Then she turns 
 gay once more, and asks laughingly: "Did you like 
 being with us out in the country ? " 
 
 " Yes. That was a pleasant time." 
 
 " And will you come again soon ? Haha ! " 
 
 She seemed to be making fun of me. Trying, of 
 course, to show she saw through me : that I hadn't 
 played my part well enough as a country labourer. 
 Child that she was ! I could teach many a labourer his 
 business, and had more than one trade at my finger- 
 ends. Though in my true calling I manage to achieve 
 just the next best of all I dream. . . . 
 
 " Shall I ask Papa to put up a notice on the post 
 next spring, to say you're willing to lay down water- 
 pipes and so on ? " 
 
 She closed her eyes and laughed so heartily she 
 laughed.
 
 WANDERERS 117 
 
 I am torn with excitement, and her merriment pains 
 me, though it is all good-humoured enough. I glance 
 round the place, trying to pull myself together ; here 
 and there an acquaintance nods to me, and I return it ; 
 it all seems so far away to me. I was sitting with a 
 charming girl, and that made people notice us. 
 
 " You know these people, it seems?" 
 
 "Yes, one or two of them. Have you enjoyed your- 
 self in town?" 
 
 " Oh yes, immensely. I've two boy cousins here, 
 and then there were their friends as well." 
 
 "Poor young Erik, out in the country," said I 
 jestingly. 
 
 " Oh, you with your young Erik. No, there's one 
 here in town ; his name's Bewer. But I'm not friends 
 with him just now." 
 
 " Oh, that won't last long." 
 
 "Do you think so? Really, though, I'm rather 
 serious about it. I've an idea he might be coming in 
 here this evening." 
 
 " You must point him out to me, if he does." 
 
 " I thought, as we drove out here, that you and I 
 could sit here together, you know, and make him 
 jealous." 
 
 "Right, then, we will." 
 
 "Yes, but . . . No, you'd have to be a bit younger. 
 I mean . . ." 
 
 I forced myself to laugh. Oh, we would manage 
 all right. Don't despise us old ones, us ancient ones, 
 we can be quite surprisingly useful at times. " Only 
 you'd better let me sit on the sofa beside you there, so 
 he can't see I'm bald at the back." 
 
 Eh, but it is hard to take that perilous transition to 
 old age in any quiet and beautiful way. There comes 
 a forcedness, a play of jerky effort and grimaces, the 
 fight against those younger than ourselves, and envy.
 
 n8 WANDERERS 
 
 "Froken ..." I ask this of her now with all my 
 heart. " Froken, couldn't you ring up Fru Falkenberg 
 and get her to come round here now ? " 
 
 She thinks for a moment. 
 
 "Yes, we will," she says generously. 
 
 We go out to the telephone, ring up the Victoria : 
 Fruen is there. 
 
 "Is that you, Lovise? You'd never guess who 
 I'm with now? Won't you come along? Oh, good! 
 We're at the Grand. No, I can't tell you now. Yes, 
 of course it's a man only he's a gentleman now I 
 won't say who it is. Are you coming? Why, you 
 said just now you would ! Some people ? Oh, well, 
 do as you like, of course, but I do think . . . Yes, 
 he's standing here. You are in a hurry . . ." 
 
 Froken Elisabeth rang off, and said shortly : 
 
 " She had to go and see some friends." 
 
 We went back to our seat, and had some more wine ; 
 I tried to be cheerful, and suggested champagne. Yes, 
 thanks. And then, as we're sitting there, Frokenen 
 says suddenly : 
 
 "Oh, there's Bewerl I'm so glad we're drinking 
 champagne." 
 
 But I have only one idea in my mind, and being now 
 called upon to show what I can do, and charm this 
 young lady to the ultimate advantage of someone else, 
 I find myself saying one thing and thinking another. 
 Which, of course, leads to disaster. I cannot get that 
 telephone conversation out of my head ; she must have 
 had an idea have realised that it was I who was wait- 
 ing for her here. But what on earth had I done? 
 Why had I been dismissed so suddenly from 0vreb0, 
 and Falkenberg taken on in my place ? Quite possibly 
 the Captain and his wife were not always the best of 
 friends, but the Captain had scented danger in my 
 being there, and wished to save his wife at least from
 
 WANDERERS 119 
 
 such an ignominious fall. And now, here she was, 
 feeling ashamed that I had worked on her place, that 
 she had used me to drive her carriage, and twice 
 shared food with me by the way. And she was ashamed, 
 too, of my being no longer young. . . . 
 
 "This will never do," says Froken Elisabeth. 
 
 So I pull myself together again and start saying all 
 manner of foolish things, to make her laugh. I drink 
 a good deal and that helps ; at last, she really seems 
 to fancy I am making myself agreeable to her on her 
 own account. She looks at me curiously. 
 
 " No, really, though, do you think I'm nice? " 
 
 ' ' Oh, please don't you understand ? I was speaking 
 of Fru Falkenberg." 
 
 " Sh ! " says Froken Elisabeth. "Of course it is 
 Fru Falkenberg ; I know that perfectly well, but you 
 need not say so. ... I really think we're beginning 
 to make an impression on him over there. Let's go 
 on like we are doing, and look interested." 
 
 So she hadn't imagined I was trying on my own 
 account, after all. I was too old for that sort of thing, 
 anyway. Devil take it, yes, of course. 
 
 "But you can't get Fru Falkenberg," she says, 
 beginning again. " It's simply hopeless." 
 
 " No, I can't get her. Nor you either." 
 
 " Are you speaking to Fru Falkenberg now again ? " 
 
 " No, it was to you this time." 
 
 Pause. 
 
 " Do you know I was in love with you? Yes, when 
 I was at home." 
 
 "This is getting quite amusing," said I, shifting up 
 on the sofa. " Oh, we'll manage Bewer, never fear." 
 
 " Yes, only fancy, I used to go up to the churchyard 
 to meet you in the evenings. But you, foolish person, 
 you didn't see it a bit." 
 
 " Now you're talking to Bewer, of course," said I.
 
 120 WANDERERS 
 
 " No, it's perfectly true. And I came over one day 
 when you were working in the potato fields. It wasn't 
 your young Erik I came to see, not a bit." 
 
 " Only think, that it should have been me," I say, 
 putting on a melancholy air. 
 
 "Yes, of course you think it was strange. But 
 really, you know, people who live in the country must 
 have someone to be fond of too." 
 
 " Does Fru Falkenberg say the same? " 
 
 " Fru Falkenberg? No, she says she doesn't want 
 to be fond of anybody, only play her piano and that 
 sort of thing. But I was speaking of myself. Do you 
 know what I did once? No, really, I can't tell you 
 that. Do you want to know ? " 
 
 "Yes, tell me." 
 
 " Well, then . . . for, after all, I'm only a child com- 
 pared to you, so it doesn't matter. It was when you 
 were sleeping in the barn ; I went over there one day 
 and laid your rugs together properly, and made a 
 proper bed." 
 
 " Was it you did that? " I burst out quite sincerely, 
 forgetting to play my part. 
 
 "You ought to have seen me stealing in. Hahaha! " 
 
 But this young girl was not artful enough, she 
 changed colour at her little confession, and laughed 
 forcedly to cover her confusion. 
 
 I try to help her out, and say : 
 
 " You're really good-hearted, you know. Fru 
 Falkenberg would never have done a thing like that." 
 
 " No ; but then she's older. Did you think we were 
 the same age ? " 
 
 " Does Fru Falkenberg say she doesn't 'want to be 
 fond of anybody ? " 
 
 "Yes. Oh no ... bother, I don't know. Fru 
 Falkenberg's married, of course ; she doesn't say 
 anything. Now talk to me again a little. . . . Yes,
 
 WANDERERS 121 
 
 and do you remember the time we went up to the store 
 to buy things, you know ? And I kept walking slower 
 and slower for you to catch up. . . ." 
 
 " Yes . . . that was nice of you. And now I'll do 
 something for you in return." 
 
 I rose from my seat, and walked across to where 
 young Bewer sat, and asked if he would not care to 
 join us at our table. I brought him along ; Froken 
 Elisabeth flushed hotly as he came up. Then I talked 
 those two young people well together, which done, I 
 suddenly remembered I had some business to do, and 
 must go off at once. " I'm ever so sorry to leave just 
 now. Froken Elisabeth, I'm afraid you've bewitched 
 me completely ; but I realise it's hopeless to think of 
 it. It's a marvel to me, by the way. . . ." 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 I shambled over to Raadhusgaten, and stood awhile 
 by the cab-stand, watching the entrance to the Victoria. 
 But, of course, she had gone to see some friends. I 
 drifted into the hotel, and got into talk with the porter. 
 
 Yes, Fruen was in. Room No. 12, first floor. 
 
 Then she was not out visiting friends ? 
 
 No. 
 
 Was she leaving shortly ? 
 
 Fruen had not said so. 
 
 I went out into the street again, and the cabmen 
 flung up their aprons, inviting my patronage. I picked 
 out a cab and got in. 
 
 "Whereto?" 
 
 "Just stay where you are. I'm hiring you by the 
 hour." 
 
 The cabmen walk about whispering, one suggesting 
 this, another that : he's watching the place ; out to 
 catch his wife meeting some commercial traveller.
 
 122 WANDERERS 
 
 Yes, I am watching the place. There is light in one 
 or two of the rooms, and suddenly it strikes me that 
 she might stand at a window and see me. " Wait," 
 I say to the cabman, and go into the hotel again. 
 
 " Whereabouts is No. 12 ?" 
 
 " First floor." 
 
 " Looking out on to Raadhusgaten ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then it must have been my sister," I say, invent- 
 ing something in order to slip past the porter. 
 
 I go up the stairs, and, to give myself no chance of 
 turning back, I knock at the door the moment I have 
 seen the number. No answer. I knock again. 
 
 " Is it the maid? " comes a voice from within. 
 
 I could not answer yes ; my voice would have 
 betrayed me. I tried the handle the door was locked. 
 Perhaps she had been afraid I might come ; possibly 
 she had seen me outside. 
 
 " No, it's not the maid," I say, and I can hear how 
 the words quiver strangely. 
 
 I stand listening a long while after that ; I can hear 
 someone moving inside, but the door remains closed. 
 Then come two short rings from one of the rooms 
 down to the hall. It must be she, I say to myself; she 
 is feeling uneasy, and has rung for the maid. I move 
 away from her door, to avoid any awkwardness for 
 her, and, when the maid comes, I walk past as if going 
 downstairs. Then the maid says, " Yes, the maid," 
 and the door is opened. 
 
 " No, no," says the maid ; " only a gentleman going 
 downstairs." 
 
 I thought of taking a room at the hotel, but the idea 
 was distasteful to me ; she was not a runaway wife 
 meeting commercial travellers. When I came down, I 
 remarked to the porter as I passed that Fruen seemed 
 to be lying down.
 
 WANDERERS 123 
 
 Then I went out and got into my cab again. The 
 time passes, a whole hour ; the cabman wants to know 
 if I do not feel cold ? Well, yes, a little. Was I wait- 
 ing for someone? Yes. . . . He hands me down his 
 rug from the box, and I tip him the price of a drink 
 for his thoughtfulness. 
 
 Time goes on ; hour after hour. The cabmen talk 
 unrestrainedly now, saying openly one to another that 
 I'm letting the horse freeze to death. 
 
 No, it was no good. I paid for the cab, went home, 
 and wrote the following letter : 
 
 " You -would not let me 'write to you ; will you not let 
 -me see you once again? I will ask for you at the hotel 
 at five to-morrow afternoon." 
 
 Should I have fixed an earlier hour ? But the 
 light in the forenoon was so white ; if I felt moved 
 and my mouth twitched, I should look a dreadful 
 sight. 
 
 I took the letter round myself to the hotel, and went 
 home again. 
 
 A long night oh, how long were those hours ! Now, 
 when I ought to sleep and stretch myself and feel 
 refreshed, I could not. Day dawned, and I got up. 
 After a long ramble through the streets I came back 
 home again, and slept. 
 
 Hours pass. When I awake and come to my senses, 
 I hurry anxiously to the telephone to ask if Fruen 
 had left. 
 
 No, Fruen had not left. 
 
 Thank Heaven then, it seemed she did not wish to 
 run away from me ; she must have had my letter long 
 since. No ; I had called at an awkward hour the 
 evening before, that was all. 
 
 I had something to eat, lay down, and slept again. 
 When I woke it was past noon. I stumble in to the 
 telephone again and ring up as before.
 
 1 24 WANDERERS 
 
 No, Fruen had not left yet; But her things were 
 packed. She was out just now. 
 
 I got ready at once, and hurried round to Raadhus- 
 gaten to stand on watch. In the course of half an 
 hour I saw a number of people pass in and out, not 
 the one I sought. It was five o'clock now, and I went 
 in and spoke to the porter. 
 
 Fruen was gone. 
 
 Gone? 
 
 " Was it you that rang up ? She came just at that 
 moment and took her things. But I've a letter here." 
 
 I took the letter, and, without opening it, asked 
 about the train. 
 
 "Train left at 4.45," says the porter, looking at his 
 watch. " It's five now." 
 
 I had thrown away half an hour keeping watch 
 outside. 
 
 I sit down on one of the steps, staring at the floor. 
 
 The porter keeps on talking. He must be well 
 aware it was not my sister. 
 
 " I said to Fruen there was a gentleman had just 
 rung up. But she only said she hadn't time, and 
 would I give him this letter." 
 
 " Was there another lady with her when she left? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 I got up and went out. In the street I opened the 
 letter and read : 
 
 " You must not follow me about any more " 
 
 Impassively I put the thing away. It had not sur- 
 prised me, had made no new impression. Thoroughly 
 womanly, hasty words, written on impulse, with under- 
 lining and a dash. . . . 
 
 Then it occurred to me to go round to Froken 
 Elisabeth's address ; there was still a glimmer of hope. 
 I heard the door bell ring inside the house as I pressed, 
 and stood listening as in a whirling desert.
 
 WANDERERS 125 
 
 Froken Elisabeth had left an hour before. 
 
 Then wine, and then whisky. And then endless 
 whisky. And altogether a twenty-one days' debauch, 
 in the course of which a curtain falls and hides my 
 earthly consciousness. In this state, it enters my head 
 one day to send something to a little cottage in the 
 country. It is a mirror, in a gay gilt frame. And 
 it was for a little maid, by name Olga, a creature 
 touching and sweet to watch as a young calf. 
 
 Ay, for I've not got over my neurasthenia yet. 
 
 The timber saw is in my room. But I cannot put 
 it together now, for the bulk of the wooden parts I left 
 behind at a vicarage in the country. It matters little 
 now, my love for the thing is dulled. My neurasthenic 
 friends, believe me, folk of our sort are useless as 
 human beings, and we should not even do for any 
 kind of beast. 
 
 One day I suppose I shall grow tired of this uncon- 
 sciousness, and go out and live on an island once again.
 
 II 
 
 WITH MUTED STRINGS 
 
 127
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 IT looks to be a fine year for berries, yes ; whortle- 
 berries, crowberries, and fintocks. A man can't 
 live on berries ; true enough. But it is good to 
 have them growing all about, and a kindly thing to see. 
 And many a thirsty and hungry man's been glad to find 
 them. 
 
 I was thinking of this only yesterday evening. 
 There's two or three months yet till the late autumn 
 berries are ripe ; yes, I know. But there are other joys 
 than berries in the wilds. Spring and summer they are 
 still only in bloom, but there are harebells and lady- 
 slipper, deep, windless woods, and the scent of trees, 
 and stillness. There is a sound as of distant waters 
 from the heavens ; never so long-drawn a sound in all 
 eternity. And a thrush may be singing as high as ever 
 its voice can go, and then, just at its highest pitch, 
 breaks the note suddenly at a right angle ; clear and 
 clean as if cut with a diamond ; then softly and sweetly 
 down the scale once more. Along the shore, too, there 
 is life ; guillemot, oyster-catcher, tern are busy there ; 
 the wagtail is out in search of food, advancing in little 
 spurts, trim and pert with its pointed beak and swift 
 little flick of the tail ; after a while it flies up to perch 
 on a fence and sing with the rest. But when the sun 
 has set, may come the cry of a loon from some hill-tarn ; 
 a melancholy hurrah. That is the last ; now there is 
 only the grasshopper left. And there's nothing to say 
 of a grasshopper, you never see it ; it doesn't count, 
 9
 
 130 WANDERERS 
 
 only he's there gritting his resiny teeth, as you might 
 say. 
 
 I sit and think of all these things ; of how summer 
 has its joys for a wanderer, so there's no sort of need 
 to wait till autumn comes. 
 
 And here I am writing cool words of these quiet 
 
 things for all the world as if there were no violent and 
 
 perilous happenings ahead. 'Tis a trick, and I learned 
 
 it of a man in the southern hemisphere of a Mexican 
 
 called Rough. The brim of his huge hat was hung 
 
 with tinkling sequins ; that in itself was a thing to 
 
 remember. And most of all, I remember how calmly 
 
 he told the story of his first murder : " I'd a sweetheart 
 
 once named Maria," said Rough, with that patient 
 
 look of his ; " well, she was no more than sixteen, and I 
 
 was nineteen then. She'd such little hands when you 
 
 touched them ; fingers thin and slight, you know the 
 
 sort. One evening the master called her in from the 
 
 fields to do some sewing for him. No help for it then ; 
 
 and it wasn't more than a day again before he calls her 
 
 in same as before. Well, it went on like that a few 
 
 weeks, and then stopped. Seven months after Maria 
 
 died, and they buried her, little hands and all. I went 
 
 to her brother Inez and said: 'At six to-morrow 
 
 morning the master rides to town, and he'll be alone.' 
 
 ' I know,' said he. ' You might lend me that little 
 
 rifle of yours to shoot him with.' ' I shall be using it 
 
 myself,' said he. Then we talked for a bit about other 
 
 things : the crops, and a big new well we'd dug. And 
 
 when I left, I reached down his rifle from the wall and 
 
 took it with me. In the timber I heard Inez at my 
 
 heels, calling to me to stop. We sat down and talked 
 
 a bit more this way and that ; then Inez snatched the 
 
 rifle away from me and went home. Next morning I 
 
 was up early, and out at the gate ready to open it for 
 
 the master ; Inez was there too, hiding in the bushes.
 
 WANDERERS 1 3 1 
 
 I told him he'd better go on ahead ; we didn't want to 
 be two to one. ' He's pistols in his belt,' said Inez ; 
 'but what about you?' ' I know,' said I ; 'but I've a 
 lump of lead here, and that makes no noise.' I showed 
 him the lump of lead, and he thought for a bit ; then he 
 went home. Then the master came riding up ; grey 
 and old he was, sixty at least. ' Open the gate ! ' he 
 called out. But I didn't. He thought I must be mad, 
 no doubt, and lashed out at me with his whip, but I 
 paid no heed. At last he had to get down himself to 
 open the gate. Then I gave him the first blow : it got 
 him just by one eye and cut a hole. He said ' Augh!' 
 and dropped. I said a few words to him, but he didn't 
 understand ; after a few more blows he was dead. 
 He'd a deal of money on him ; I took a little to help me 
 on my way, then I mounted and rode off. Inez was 
 standing in the doorway as I rode past his place. 
 ' It's only three and a half days to the frontier,' he 
 said." 
 
 So Rough told his story, and sat staring coolly in 
 front of him when it was ended. 
 
 I have no murders to tell of, but joys and sufferings 
 and love. And love is no less violent and perilous than 
 murder. 
 
 Green in all the woods now, I thought to myself this 
 morning as I dressed. The snow is melting on the 
 hills, and everywhere the cattle in their sheds are eager 
 and anxious to be out ; in houses and cottages the 
 windows are opened wide. I open my shirt and let the 
 wind blow in upon me, and I mark how I grow star- 
 struck and uncontrollable within ; ah, for a moment it 
 is all as years ago, when I was young, and a wilder 
 spirit than now. And I think to myself: maybe there's 
 a tract of woodland somewhere east or west of this, 
 where an old man can find himself as well bested as a 
 young. I will go and look for it.
 
 132 WANDERERS 
 
 Rain and sun and wind by turns ; I have been many 
 days on the road already. Too cold yet to lie out in 
 the open at night, but there is always shelter to be had 
 at farmsteads by the way. One man thinks it strang-e 
 that I should go tramping about like this for nothing ; 
 he takes me, no doubt, for somebody in disguise, just 
 trying to be original like Wergeland. 1 The man knows 
 nothing of my plans, how I am on my way to a place 
 I know, where live some people I have a fancy to see 
 again. But he is a sensible fellow enough, and in- 
 voluntarily I nod as if to agree there is something in 
 what he says. There's a theatrical touch in most of us 
 that makes us feel flattered at being taken for more 
 than we are. Then up come his wife and daughter, 
 good, ordinary souls, and carry all away with their 
 kindly gossip ; he's no beggar, they say ; he paid for 
 his supper and all. And at last I turn crafty and 
 cowardly and say never a word, and let the man lay 
 more to my charge and still never a word. And we 
 three hearty souls outwin his reasoning sense, and he 
 has to explain he was only jesting all the time ; surely 
 we could see that. I stayed a night and a day there, 
 and greased my shoes with extra care, and mended my 
 clothes. 
 
 But then the man begins to suspect once more. 
 "There'll be a handsome present for that girl of mine 
 when you leave, I know," says he. I made as if his 
 words had no effect, and answered with a laugh : " You 
 think so?" "Yes," says he ; "and then when you're 
 gone we'll sit thinking you must have been somebody 
 grand, after all." 
 
 A detestable fellow this ! I did the only thing I 
 
 could : ignored his sarcasm and asked for work. I 
 
 liked the place, I said, and he'd need of help ; I could 
 
 turn my hand to anything now in the busy time. 
 
 1 A Norwegian poet.
 
 WANDERERS 133 
 
 "You're a fool," said he, "and the sooner you're off 
 the place the better I'll be pleased." 
 
 Clearly he had taken a dislike to me, and there was 
 none of the womenfolk at hand to take my part. I 
 looked at the man, at a loss to understand what was 
 in his mind. His glance was steady ; it struck me 
 suddenly that I had never seen such wisdom in the eyes 
 of man or woman. But he carried his ill-will too far, 
 and made a false step. He asked: "What shall we 
 say your name was ?" "No need to say anything at 
 all," I answered. "A wandering Eilert Sundt?" 1 he 
 suggested. And I entered into the jest and answered : 
 " Yes, why not ? " But at that he fired up, and snapped 
 out sharply: "Then I'm sorry for Fru Sundt, that's 
 all." I shrugged my shoulders in return, and said: 
 " You're wrong there, my good man ; I am not married." 
 And I turned to go. But with an unnatural readiness 
 he called after me: " 'Tis you that's wrong: I meant 
 for the mother that bore you." 
 
 A little way down the road I turned, and saw how 
 his wife and daughter took him up. And I thought to 
 myself: no, 'tis not all roses when one goes a- wandering. 
 
 At the next place I came to I learned that he had 
 been with the army, as quartermaster-sergeant ; then 
 he went mad over a lawsuit he lost, and was shut up 
 in an asylum for some time. Now in the spring his 
 trouble broke out again ; perhaps it was my coming 
 that had given the final touch. But the lightning 
 insight in his eyes at the moment when the madness 
 came upon him ! I think of him now and again ; he 
 was a lesson to me. 'Tis none so easy to judge of men, 
 who are wise or mad. And God preserve us all from 
 being known for what we are ! 
 
 That day I passed by a house where a lad sat on the 
 1 An itinerant preacher.
 
 134 WANDERERS 
 
 doorstep playing 1 a mouth-organ. He was no musician 
 to speak of, but a cheerful soul he must surely be, to 
 sit there playing to himself like that. I would not 
 disturb him, but simply raised one hand to my cap, 
 and stood a little distance off. He took no notice of 
 me, only wiped his mouth-organ and went on playing. 
 This went on for some time ; then at last, waiting till 
 he stopped to wipe his instrument again, I coughed. 
 
 "That you, Ingeborg?" he called out. I thought 
 he must be speaking to someone in the house behind 
 him, and made no answer. "You there, I mean," he 
 said again. 
 
 I was confused at this. " Can't you see me ? " I said. 
 
 He did not answer, but fumbled with his hands to 
 either side, as if trying to get up, and I realised that he 
 was blind. " Sit still ; don't be afraid of me," I said, 
 and set myself down beside him. 
 
 We fell into talk : been blind since he was fourteen, 
 it seemed ; he would be eighteen now, and a big, strong 
 fellow he was, with a thick growth of down on his chin. 
 And, thank Heaven, he said, his health was good. But 
 his eyesight, I asked ; could he remember what the 
 world looked like ? Yes, indeed ; there were many 
 pleasant things he could remember from the time when 
 he could see. He was happy and content enough. 
 He was going in to Christiania this spring, to have an 
 operation ; then perhaps he might at least be able to 
 see well enough to walk ; ay, all would be well in time, 
 no doubt. He was dull-witted, looked as if he ate a 
 lot ; was stout and strong as a beast. But there was 
 something unhealthy-looking, something of the idiot 
 about him ; his acceptance of his fate was too unreason- 
 able. To be hopeful in that way implies a certain 
 foolishness, I thought to myself; a man must be 
 lacking in sense to some degree if he can go ahead 
 feeling always content with life, and even reckoning
 
 WANDERERS 1 3 5 
 
 to get something new, some good out of it into the 
 bargain. 
 
 But I was in the mood to learn something from all I 
 chanced on in my wandering ; even this poor creature 
 on his doorstep made me the wiser by one little thing. 
 How was it he could mistake me for a woman ; the 
 woman Ingeborg he had called by name ? I must have 
 walked up too quietly. I had forgotten the plodding 
 cart-horse gait ; my shoes were too light. I had lived 
 too luxuriously these years past ; I must work my way 
 back to the peasant again. 
 
 Three more days now to the goal my curious fancy 
 had set before me : to 0vreb0, to Captain Falkenberg's. 
 It was an opportune time to walk up there just now 
 and ask for work ; there would be plenty to do on a big 
 place like that in the spring. Six years since I was 
 there last ; time had passed, and for the last few weeks 
 I had been letting my beard grow, so that none should 
 recognise me now. 
 
 It was in the middle of the week ; I must arrange to 
 get there on the Saturday evening. Then the Captain 
 would let me stay over the Sunday while he thought 
 about taking me on. On Monday he would come and 
 say yes or no. 
 
 Strangely enough, I felt no excitement at the thought 
 of what was to come ; nothing of unrest, no ; calmly 
 and comfortably I took my way by farmstead, wood, 
 and meadow. I thought to myself how I had once, 
 years ago, spent some adventurous weeks at that same 
 0vreb0, even to being in love with Fruen herself, with 
 Fru Lovise. Ay, that I was. She had fair hair and 
 grey, dark eyes ; like a young girl she was. Six years 
 gone, ay, so long it is ago ; would she be greatly 
 changed ? Time has had its wear of me ; I am grown 
 dull and faded and indifferent ; I look upon a woman
 
 136 WANDERERS 
 
 now as literature, no more. It is come to the end. 
 Well, and what then ? Everything comes to an end. 
 When first I entered on this stage I had a feeling as if 
 I had lost something ; as if I had been favoured by the 
 caresses of a pickpocket. Then I set to and felt myself 
 about, to see if I could bear myself after this ; if I could 
 endure myself as I was now. Oh well, yes, why not ? 
 Not the same as before, of course, but it all passed off 
 so noiselessly, but peacefully, but surely. Everything 
 comes to an end. 
 
 In old age one takes no real part in life, but keeps 
 oneself on memories. We are like letters that have 
 been delivered ; we are no longer on the way, we have 
 arrived. It is only a question whether we have whirled 
 up joys and sorrows out of what was in us, or have 
 made no impression at all. Thanks be for life ; it was 
 good to live ! 
 
 But Woman, she was, as the wise aforetime knew, 
 infinitely poor in mind, but rich in irresponsibility, in 
 vanity, in wantonness. Like a child in many ways, but 
 with nothing of its innocence. 
 
 I stand by the guide-post where the road turns off to 
 0vreb0. There is no emotion in me. The day lies 
 broad and bright over meadow and woods ; here and 
 there is ploughing and harrowing in the fields, but all 
 moves slowly, hardly seems to move at all, for it is full 
 noon and a blazing sun. I walk a little way on beyond 
 the post, dragging out the time before going up to the 
 house. After an hour, I go into the woods and wander 
 about there for a while ; there are berries in flower and 
 a scent of little green leaves. A crowd of thrushes go 
 chasing a crow across the sky, making a great to-do, 
 like a clattering confusion of faulty castanets. I lie 
 down on my back, with my sack under my head, and 
 drop off to sleep.
 
 WANDERERS 137 
 
 A little after I wake again, and walk over to the 
 nearest ploughman. I want to find out something 
 about the Falkenbergs, if they are still there and all 
 well. The man answers cautiously ; he stands blinking, 
 with his little, crafty eyes, and says: "All depends if 
 Captain's at home." 
 
 "Is he often away, then ? " 
 
 "Nay, he'll be at home." 
 
 " Has he got the field-work done ? " 
 
 The man smiled: "Nay, I doubt it's not finished 
 yet." 
 
 " Are there hands enough to the place ? " 
 
 "That's more than I can say; yes, I doubt there's 
 hands enough. And the field-work's done ; leastways, 
 the manure's all carted out." 
 
 The man clicks to his horses and goes on ploughing ; 
 I walked on beside him. There was not much to be 
 got out of him ; next time the horses stopped for a 
 breathing space I worried out of him a few more con- 
 tradictions as to the family at 0vreb0. The Captain, 
 it seemed, was away on manoeuvres all through the 
 summer, and Fruen was at home alone. Yes, they 
 had always a heap of visitors, of course ; but the 
 Captain was away. That is to say, not because he 
 wanted to ; he liked best to stay at home, by all 
 accounts, but, of course, he'd his duty as well. No, 
 they'd no children as yet ; didn't look as if Fruen 
 was like to have any. What was I talking about ? 
 They might have children yet, of course ; any amount 
 of them for that. On again. 
 
 We plough on to the next stop. I am anxious not 
 to arrive at an awkward time, and ask the man, there- 
 fore, if he thinks there would be visitors or anything of 
 that sort up at the house to-day. No, he thought not. 
 They'd parties and visitors now and again, but . . . 
 Ay, and music and playing and fine goings-on as often
 
 138 WANDERERS 
 
 as could be, but . . . And well they might, for that 
 matter, seeing" they were fine folks, and rich and well- 
 to-do as they were. 
 
 He was a torment, was that ploughman. I tried to 
 find out something about another Falkenberg, who 
 could tune pianos at a pinch. On this the plough- 
 man's information was more definite. Lars? Ay, he 
 was here. Know him? Why, of course he knew 
 Lars well enough. He'd finished with service at 
 0vrebo, but the Captain had given him a clearing 
 of land to live on ; he married Emma, that was maid 
 at the house, and they'd a couple of children. Decent, 
 hard-working folk, with feed for two cows already out 
 of their clearing. 
 
 Here the furrow ended, and the man turned his team 
 about. I thanked him, and went on my way. 
 
 When I came up to the house, I recognised all the 
 buildings ; they wanted painting. The flagstaff I had 
 helped to raise six years before, it stood there still ; but 
 there was no cord to it, and the knob at the top was 
 gone. 
 
 Well, here I was, and that was four o'clock in the 
 afternoon of the 26th of April. 
 
 Old folk have a memory for dates.
 
 I 
 
 IT turned out otherwise than I had thought. Captain 
 Falkenberg came out, heard what I had to say, 
 and answered no on the spot. He had all the 
 hands he wanted, and the field-work was all but done. 
 
 Good ! Might I go over to the men's room and sit 
 down and rest a while ? 
 
 Certainly. 
 
 No invitation to stay over Sunday. The Captain 
 turned on his heel and went indoors again. He looked 
 as if he had only just got out of bed, for he was wear- 
 ing a night-shirt tucked into his trousers, and had no 
 waistcoat on ; only a jacket flung on loosely and left 
 unbuttoned. He was going grey about the ears, and 
 his beard as well. 
 
 I sat down in the men's quarters and waited till the 
 farm-hands came in for their afternoon meal. There 
 were only two of them the foreman and another. I 
 got into talk with them, and it appeared the Captain 
 had made a mistake in saying the field-work was all 
 but done. Well, 'twas his own affair. I made no 
 secret of the fact that I was looking for a place, and, 
 as for being used to the work, I showed them the 
 fine recommendation I had got from the Lensmand at 
 Hersaet years ago. When the men went out again, I 
 took my sack and walked out with them, ready to go 
 on my way. I peeped in at the stables and saw a sur- 
 prising number of horses, looked at the cowshed, at 
 
 the fowls, and the pigs. I noticed that there was dung 
 
 139
 
 140 WANDERERS 
 
 in the pit from the year before that had not been carted 
 out yet. 
 
 I asked how that could be. 
 
 " Well, what are we to do ? " answered the foreman. 
 " I looked to it from end of winter up till now, and 
 nobody but myself on the place. Now there's two of 
 us at least, in a sort of way, but now there's all the 
 ploughing- and harrowing to be done." 
 
 'Twas his affair. 
 
 I bade him farewell, and went on my way. I was 
 going to my good friend, Lars Falkenberg, but I did 
 not tell them so. There are some new little buildings 
 far up in the wood I can see, and that I take to be the 
 clearing. 
 
 But the man I had just left must have been inwardly 
 stirred by the thought of getting an extra hand to help 
 with the work. I saw him tramp across the courtyard 
 and up to the house as I went off. 
 
 I had gone but a couple of hundred yards when he 
 comes hurrying after me to say I am taken on after all. 
 He had spoken to the Captain, and got leave to take 
 me on himself. "There'll be nothing to do now till 
 Monday, but come in and have something to eat." 
 
 He is a good fellow, this ; goes with me up to the 
 kitchen and tells them there : " Here's a new man come 
 to work on the place ; see he gets something to eat." 
 
 A strange cook and strange maids. I get my food 
 and go out again. No sign of master or mistress 
 anywhere. 
 
 But I cannot sit idle in the men's room all the 
 evening ; I walk up to the field and talk to my two 
 fellow-workers. Nils, the foreman, is from a farm a 
 little north of here, but, not being the eldest son, and 
 having no farm of his own to run, he has been sensible 
 enough to take service here at 0vreb0 for the time 
 being. And, indeed, he might have done worse. The
 
 WANDERERS 141 
 
 Captain himself was not paying more and more atten- 
 tion to his land, rather, perhaps, less and less, and he 
 was away so much that the man had to use his own 
 judgment many a time. This last autumn, for instance, 
 he has turned up a big stretch of waste land that he is 
 going to sow. He points out over the ground, showing 
 where he's ploughed and what's to lie over : " See that 
 bit there, how well it's coming on." 
 
 It is good to hear how well this young man knows 
 his work ; I find a pleasure in his sensible talk. He 
 has been to one of the State schools, too, and learned 
 how to keep accounts of stock, entering loads of hay in 
 one column and the birth dates of the calves in another. 
 His affair. In the old days a peasant kept such matters 
 in his head, and the womenfolk knew to a day when 
 each of their twenty or fifty cows was due to calve. 
 
 But he is a smart young fellow, nevertheless, and not 
 afraid of work, only a little soured and spoiled of late 
 by having more on his hands than a man could do. It 
 was plain to see how he brightened up now he had got 
 a man to help with the work. And he settles there and 
 then that I am to start on Monday with the harrow 
 horse, carting out manure, the lad to take one of the 
 Captain's carriage horses for the harrow ; he himself 
 would stick to the ploughing. Ay, we would get our 
 sowing done this year. 
 
 Sunday. 
 
 I must be careful not to show any former knowledge 
 of things about the place here ; as, for instance, how 
 far the Captain's timber runs, or where the various out- 
 houses and buildings are, or the well, or the roads. 
 I took some time getting things ready for to-morrow 
 greased the wheels of the cart, and did up the harness, 
 and gave the horse an extra turn. In the afternoon I 
 went for a four or five hours' ramble through the woods,
 
 142 WANDERERS 
 
 passed by Lars Falkenberg's place without going in, 
 and came right out to where the Captain's land joined 
 that of the neighbouring village before I turned back. 
 I was surprised to see the mass of timber that had been 
 cut. 
 
 When I got back, Nils asked : " Did you hear them 
 singing and carrying on last night ? " 
 
 " Yes ; what was it? " 
 
 " Visitors," said he, with a laugh. 
 
 Visitors ! yes, there were always visitors at Ovrebo 
 just now. 
 
 There was an extremely fat but sprightly man among 
 them ; he wore his moustache turned up at the ends, 
 and was a captain in the same arm of the service as 
 the master. I saw him and the other guests come 
 lounging out of the house in the course of the evening. 
 There was a man they called Ingenior; l he was young, 
 a little over twenty, fairly tall, brown-skinned and 
 clean shaven. And there was Elisabeth from the vicar- 
 age. I remember Elisabeth very well, and recognised 
 her now at once, for all she was six years older and 
 more mature. Little Elisabeth of the old days was no 
 longer a girl her breast stood out so, and gave an 
 impression of exaggerated health. I learned she was 
 married ; she took Erik after all, a farmer's son she 
 had been fond of as a child. She was still friendly with 
 Fru Falkenberg, and often came to stay. But her 
 husband never came with her. 
 
 Elisabeth is standing by the flagstaff, and Captain 
 Falkenberg comes out. They talk a little, and are 
 occupied with their own affairs. The Captain glances 
 round every time he speaks ; possibly he is not talking 
 of trifles, but of something he must needs be careful 
 with. 
 
 1 Engineer. Men are frequently addressed and referred to by 
 the title of their occupation, with or without adding the name.
 
 WANDERERS 143 
 
 Then comes the other Captain, the fat and jovial 
 one ; we can hear his laugh right over in the servants' 
 quarters. He calls out to Captain Falkenberg to come 
 along, but gets only a curt answer back. A few stone 
 steps lead down to the lilac shrubbery ; the Captain 
 goes down there now, a maid following after with wine 
 and glasses. Last of all comes the engineer. 
 
 Nils bursts out laughing : " Oh, that Captain ! look 
 at him ! " 
 
 " What's his name? " 
 
 " They all call him Bror ; l it was the same last year 
 as well. I don't know his proper name." 
 " And the engineer ? " 
 
 " His name's Lassen, so I've heard. He's only been 
 here once before in my time." 
 
 Then came Fru Falkenberg out on the steps ; she 
 stopped for a moment and glanced over at the two by 
 the flagstaff. Her figure is slight and pretty as ever ; 
 but her face seems looser, as if she had been stouter 
 once and since grown thin. She goes down to the 
 shrubbery after the others, and I recognise her walk 
 again light and firm as of old. But little wonder if 
 time has taken something of her looks in all those years. 
 More people come out from the house an elderly 
 lady wearing a shawl, and two gentlemen with her. 
 
 Nils tells me it is not always there are so many 
 guests in the house at once ; but it was the Captain's 
 birthday two days ago, and two carriage-loads of people 
 had come dashing up ; the four strange horses were in 
 the stables now. 
 
 Now voices are calling again for the couple by the 
 flagstaff; the Captain throws out an impatient " Yes ! " 
 but does not move. Now he brushes a speck of dust 
 from Elisabeth's shoulder; now, looking round carefully, 
 
 1 Brother. Not so much a nickname as a general term of 
 jovial familiarity.
 
 144 WANDERERS 
 
 he lays one hand on her arm and tells her something 
 earnestly. 
 
 Says Nils : 
 
 " They've always such a lot to talk about, those two. 
 She never comes here but they go off for long walks 
 together." 
 
 " And what does Fru Falkenberg say to that? " 
 
 " I've never heard she troubled about it any way." 
 
 "And Elisabeth, hasn't she any children either? " 
 
 " Ay, she's many." 
 
 " But how can she get away so often with that big 
 place and the children to look after? " 
 
 " It's all right as long as Erik's mother's alive. She 
 can get away all she wants." 
 
 He went out as he spoke, leaving me alone. In this 
 room I had sat once, working out the construction of 
 an improved timber saw. How earnest I was about it 
 all ! Fetter, the farm-hand, lay sick in the room next 
 door, and I would hurry out eagerly whenever I'd any 
 hammering to do, and get it done outside. Now that 
 patent saw's just literature to me, no more. So the 
 years deal with us all. 
 
 Nils comes in again. 
 
 " If the visitors aren't gone to-morrow, I'll take a 
 couple of their horses for the ploughing," says he, 
 thinking only of his own affairs. 
 
 I glance out of the window ; the couple by the flag- 
 staff have moved away at last. 
 
 In the evening things grew more and more lively 
 down in the shrubbery. The maids went backwards 
 and forwards with trays of food and drink ; the party 
 were having supper among the lilacs. "Bror! Bror ! " 
 cried one and another, but Bror himself was loudest of 
 all. A chair had broken under his enormous weight, 
 and a message comes out to the servants' quarters to
 
 WANDERERS 145 
 
 find a good, solid, wooden chair that would bear him. 
 Oh, but they were merry down in the shrubbery ! Cap- 
 tain Falkenberg walked up now and again in front of 
 the house to show he was still steady on his legs, and 
 was keeping a watchful eye on things in general. 
 
 "You mark my words," said Nils, " he'll not be the 
 first to give over. I drove for him last year, and he was 
 drinking all the way, but never a sign was there to see." 
 
 The sun went down. It was growing chilly, perhaps, 
 in the garden ; anyway, the party went indoors. But 
 the big windows were thrown wide, and waves of 
 melody from Fru Falkenberg's piano poured out. After 
 a while it changed to dance tunes ; jovial Captain Bror, 
 no doubt, was playing now. 
 
 " Nice lot, aren't they ? " said Nils. " Sit up playing 
 and dancing' all night, and stay in bed all day. I'm 
 going to turn in." 
 
 I stayed behind, looking out of the window, and saw 
 my mate Lars Falkenberg come walking across the 
 courtyard and go up into the house. He had been sent 
 for to sing to the company. When he has sung for a 
 while, Captain Bror and some of the others begin to 
 chime in and help, making a fine merry noise between 
 them. After about an hour in comes Lars Falkenberg 
 to the servants' quarters, with a half-bottle of spirit in 
 his pocket for his trouble. Seeing no one but me, a 
 stranger, in the room, he goes in to Nils in the bedroom 
 next door, and they take a dram together ; after a little 
 they call to me to come in. I am careful not to say too 
 much, hoping not to be recognised ; but when Lars 
 gets up to go home, he asks me to go part of the way 
 with him. And then it appears that I am discovered 
 already ; Lars knows that I am his former mate of the 
 woodcutting days. 
 
 The Captain had told him. 
 
 Well and good, I think to myself. Then I've no 
 10
 
 146 WANDERERS 
 
 need to bother about being- careful any more. To tell 
 the truth, I was well pleased at the way things had 
 turned out ; it meant that the Captain was completely 
 indifferent as to having me about the place ; I could do 
 as I pleased. 
 
 I walked all the way home with Lars, talking over 
 old times, and of his new place, and of the people at 
 0vreb0. It seemed that the Captain was not looked 
 up to with the same respect as before ; he was no longer 
 the spokesman of the district, and neighbours had 
 ceased to come and ask his help and advice. The last 
 thing of any account he did was to have the carriage 
 drive altered down to the high road, but that was five 
 years ago. The buildings needed painting, but he had 
 put it off and never had it done ; the road across the 
 estate was in disrepair, and he had felled too much 
 timber by far. Drink? Oh, so folk said, no doubt, 
 but it couldn't be fairly said he drank not that way. 
 Devil take the gossiping fools ! He drank a little, and 
 now and again he would drive off somewhere and stay 
 away for a bit ; but when he did come home again 
 things never seemed to go well with him, and that was 
 the pity of it ! An evil spirit seemed to have got hold 
 of him, said Lars. 
 
 And Fruen? 
 
 Fruen ! She went about the house as before, and 
 played on her piano, and was as pretty and neat as ever 
 anyone could wish. And they keep open house, with 
 folk for ever coming and going ; but taxes and charges 
 on this and that mount up, and it costs a deal to keep 
 up the place, with all the big buildings to be seen to. 
 But it is a sin and a shame for the Captain, and Fruen 
 as well, to be so dead-weary of each other, you'd never 
 think. If they do say a word to each other, it's looking 
 to the other side all the time, and hardly opening their 
 lips. They barely speak at all, except to other people,
 
 WANDERERS 147 
 
 month after month the same. And all summer the 
 Captain's out on manoauvres, and never comes home to 
 see how his wife and the place are getting on. " No, 
 they've no children ; that's the trouble," says Lars. 
 
 Emma comes out and joins us. She looks well and 
 handsome still, and I tell her so. 
 
 " Emma ? " says Lars. " Ay, well, she's none so bad. 
 But she's for ever having children, the wretch ! " and, 
 pouring out a drink from his half-bottle, he forces 
 her to drink it off. Now Emma presses us to come 
 in ; we might just as well be sitting down indoors 
 as standing about out here. " Oh, it's summer now ! " 
 says Lars, evidently none so anxious to have me in. 
 Then, when I set off for home, he walks down again 
 with me a bit of the way, showing me where he's dug 
 and drained and fenced about his bit of land. Small 
 as it is, he has made good and sensible use of it. 
 I find a strange sense of pleasure coming over me 
 as I look at this cosy homestead in the woods. There 
 is a faint soughing of the wind in the forest behind ; 
 close up to the house are foliage trees, and the 
 aspens rustle like silk. 
 
 I walk back home. Night is deepening ; all the birds 
 are silent ; the air calm and warm, in a soft bluish gloom. 
 
 " Let us be young to-night! " It is a man's voice, 
 loud and bright, from behind the lilacs. "Let's go 
 and dance, or do something wild." 
 
 " Have you forgotten what you were like last year? " 
 answers Fru Falkenberg. "You were nice and young 
 then, and never said such things." 
 
 " No, I never said such things. To think you should 
 remember that ! But you scolded me one evening last 
 year too. I said how beautiful you were that evening, 
 and you said no, you weren't beautiful any more ; and you 
 called me a child, and told me not to drink so much."
 
 148 WANDERERS 
 
 " Yes, so I did," says Fru Falkenberg, with a laugh. 
 
 "So you did, yes. But as to your being beautiful 
 or not, surely I ought to know when I was sitting 
 looking at you all the time ? " 
 
 " Oh, you child! " 
 
 "And this evening you're lovelier still." 
 
 " There's someone coming ! " 
 
 Two figures rise up suddenly behind the lilacs. 
 Fruen and the young engineer. Seeing it is only 
 me, they breathe more easily again, and go on talking 
 as if I did not exist. And mark how strange is human 
 feeling ; I had been wishing all along to be ignored 
 and left in peace, yet now it hurt me to see these 
 two making so little account of me. My hair and 
 beard are turning grey, I thought to myself ; should 
 they not respect me at least for that ? 
 
 " Yes, you're lovelier still to-night," says the man again. 
 
 I come up alongside them, touching my cap care- 
 lessly, and pass on. 
 
 "I'll tell you this much: you'll gain nothing by 
 it," says Fruen. And then: "Here, you've dropped 
 something," she calls to me. 
 
 Dropped something? My handkerchief lay on the 
 path ; I had dropped it on purpose. I turned round 
 now and picked it up, said thank you, and walked on. 
 
 " You're very quick to notice things of no account," 
 says the engineer. " A lout's red-spotted rag. . . . 
 Come, let's go and sit in the summer-house." 
 
 " It's shut up at night," says Fruen. " I dare say 
 there's somebody in there." 
 
 After that I heard no more. 
 
 My bedroom is up in the loft in the servants' quarters, 
 and the one open window looks out to the shrubbery. 
 When I come up I can still hear voices down there 
 among the bushes, but cannot make out what is said. 
 I thought to myself: why should the summer-house be
 
 WANDERERS 
 
 shut up at night, and whose idea could It be ? 
 
 t ' * * 
 
 149 
 
 had j r 
 
 with the shawl. hey had h * "* W ' ady 
 
 among the trees no doL .. ," S '""' g ' some where 
 to wondering no ' w fbv a' W r ""*" by ' and ' fel1 
 talking to nfyse^fa i Jalked a^H C U ' d haVe been 
 Suddenly I s~ thV ' been over heard. 
 
 bushe, anV^Vtrnf;^/;: ^ fr m behi " d the 
 Finding it locked h . f e sum mer-house. 
 
 b ti 
 
 Whatever are you doing? 
 
 : " M adman! 
 
 a man just no oka "tt-g there 
 
 warning- them ; here i<= , SOme means of 
 
 window and fling it's hard 2T b ttle J ' ^ to th 
 summer-house. There is t ^ "^ ' Wards th = 
 "oken, and the pieces eo J'n ' "^ a " d tiles are 
 f; a cry of di r ? clattering down over the 
 
 berg'rushes out, her^moa tl'"' a " d Fr " Falk - 
 her dress. They stonlbrT " " d her Sti " ^ as Pi-* 
 " Bror ! Bror Irenes Fru ST''^ ' k ab Ut them 
 
 Falkenberg.andsetsoffata
 
 ISO WANDERERS 
 
 run down the shrubbery. " No, don't come," she calls 
 back over her shoulder. " You mustn't, I tell you." 
 
 But the engineer ran after her, all the same. Wonder- 
 fully young 1 he was, and all inflexible. 
 
 Now the stout Captain and his lady come up, and 
 their talk is a marvel to hear. Love : there is nothing 
 like it, so it seems. The stout cavalier must be sixty 
 at the least, and the lady with him, say forty ; their 
 infatuation was a sight to see. 
 
 The Captain speaks : 
 
 " And up to this evening I've managed to hide it 
 somehow, but now well, it's more than any man can. 
 You've bewitched me, Frue, completely." 
 
 " I didn't think you cared so much, really," she 
 answers gently, trying to help him along. 
 
 "Well, I do," he says. "And I can't stand it any 
 longer, and that's the truth. When we were up in the 
 woods just now, I still thought I could get through one 
 more night, and didn't say anything much at the time. 
 But now ; come back with me, say you will ! " 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " No ; oh, I'd love to give you ... do what you ..." 
 
 "Ah!" he exclaims, and, throwing his arms about 
 her, stands pressing his round paunch against hers. 
 There they stood, looking like two recalcitrants that 
 would not. Oh, that Captain ! 
 
 " Let me go," she implored him. 
 
 He loosened his hold a trifle and pressed her to him 
 again. Once more it looked as if both were resisting. 
 
 "Come back up into the wood," he urged again 
 and again. 
 
 "Oh, it's impossible!" she answered. "And then 
 it's all wet with the dew." 
 
 But the Captain was full of passionate words full 
 and frothing over. 
 
 " Oh, I used to think I didn't care much about eyes !
 
 WANDERERS 1 5 I 
 
 Blue eyes huh ! Grey eyes huh ! Eyes any sort of 
 colour huh ! But then you came with those brown 
 eyes of yours. . . ." 
 
 "They are brown, yes. . . ." 
 
 "You burn me with them ; you you roast me up ! " 
 
 "To tell the truth, you're not the first that's said 
 nice things about my eyes. My husband now . . ." 
 
 "Ah, but what about me!" cries the Captain. "I 
 tell you, Frue, if I'd only met you twenty years ago, I 
 wouldn't have answered for my reason. Come ; there's 
 no dew to speak of up in the wood." 
 
 " We'd better go indoors, I think," she suggests. 
 
 "Go in? There's not a corner anywhere indoors 
 where we can be alone." 
 
 " Oh, we'll find somewhere !" she says. 
 
 " Well, anyhow, we must have an end of it to-night," 
 says the Captain decisively. 
 
 And they go. 
 
 I asked myself: was it to warn anybody I had thrown 
 that empty bottle ? 
 
 At three in the morning I heard Nils go out to feed 
 the horses. At four he knocked to rouse me out of 
 bed. I did not grudge him the honour of being first up, 
 though I could have called him earlier myself, any hour 
 of that night indeed, for I had not slept. 'Tis easy 
 enough to go without sleep a night or two in this light, 
 fine air ; it does not make for drowsiness. 
 
 Nils sets out for the fields, driving a new team. 
 He has looked over the visitors' horses, and chosen 
 Elizabeth's. Good country-breds, heavy in the leg. 
 
 II 
 
 More visitors arrive, and the house-party goes on. 
 We farm hands are busy ploughing, sowing, and
 
 152 WANDERERS 
 
 carting manure ; some of the fields are sprouting green 
 already after our work a joy to see. 
 
 But we've difficulties here and there, and that with 
 Captain Falkenberg himself. "He's lost all thought 
 and care for his own good," says Nils. And indeed an 
 evil spirit must have got hold of him ; he was half- 
 drunk most of the time, and seemed to think of little 
 else beyond playing the genial host. For nearly a 
 week past, he and his guests had played upside down 
 with day and night. But what with the noise and 
 rioting after dark the beasts in stable and shed could 
 get no rest ; the maids, too, were kept up at all hours, 
 and, what was more, the young gentlemen would come 
 over to their quarters at night and sit on their beds 
 talking, just to see them undressed. 
 
 We working hands had no part in this, of course, but 
 many a time we felt shamed instead of proud to work on 
 Captain Falkenberg's estate. Nils got hold of a temper- 
 ance badge and wore it in the front of his blouse. 
 
 One day the Captain came out to me in the fields and 
 ordered me to get out the carriage and fetch two new 
 visitors from the station. It was in the middle of the 
 afternoon ; apparently he had just got up. But he put 
 me in an awkward position here why had he not gone 
 to Nils? It struck me that he was perhaps, after all, a 
 little shy of Nils with his temperance badge. 
 
 The Captain must have guessed my difficulty, for he 
 smiled and said : 
 
 "Thinking what Nils might say? Well, perhaps I'd 
 better talk to him first." 
 
 But I wouldn't for worlds have sent the Captain over 
 to Nils just then, for Nils was still ploughing with 
 visitors' horses, and had asked me to give him warning 
 if I saw danger ahead. I took out my handkerchief to 
 wipe my face, and waved a little ; Nils saw it, and 
 slipped his team at once. What would he do now r I
 
 WANDERERS 153 
 
 wondered ? But Nils was not easily dismayed ; he came 
 straight in with his horses, though it was in the middle 
 of a working spell. 
 
 If only I could hold the Captain here a bit while he 
 got in ! Nils realises there is no time to be lost he is 
 already unfastening the harness on the way. 
 
 Suddenly the Captain looks at me, and asks : 
 
 " Well, have you lost your tongue? " 
 
 " 'Twas Nils," I answer then. "Something gone 
 wrong, it looks like ; he's taken the horses out." 
 
 "Well, and what then ?" 
 
 "Nay, I was only thinking . . ." 
 
 But there I stopped. Devil take it, was I to stand 
 there playing the hypocrite ? Here was my chance to 
 put in a word for Nils ; the next round he would have 
 to manage alone. 
 
 "It's the spring season now," I said, "and there's 
 green showing already where we've done. But there's 
 a deal more to do yet, and we . . ." 
 
 " Well, and what then what then ? " 
 
 "There's two and a half acres here, and Nils with 
 hard on three acres of corn land ; perhaps Captain 
 might give it another thought." 
 
 At that the Captain swung on his heel and left me 
 without a word. 
 
 "That's my dismissal," I thought to myself. But I 
 walked up after him with my cart and team, ready to 
 do as he had said. 
 
 I was in no fear now about Nils ; he was close up to 
 the stables by now. The Captain beckoned to him, 
 but without avail. Then "Halt!" he cried, military 
 fashion ; but Nils was deaf. 
 
 When we reached the stables the horses were back 
 in their places already. The Captain was stiff and 
 stern as ever, but I fancied he had been thinking 
 matters over a Httle on the way.
 
 154 WANDERERS 
 
 "What have you brought the horses infer now?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "Plough was working loose," answered Nils. "I 
 brought them in just while I'm setting it to rights 
 again; it won't take very long." 
 
 The Captain raps out his order : 
 
 " I want a man to drive to the station." 
 
 Nils glances at me, and says half to himself: 
 
 " H'm ! So that's it? A nice time for that sort of 
 thing." 
 
 " What's that you're muttering about ? " 
 
 " There's two of us and a lad," says Nils, "for the 
 season's work this spring. 'Tis none so much as leaves 
 any to spare." 
 
 But the Captain must have had some inkling as to 
 the two brown horses Nils had been in such a hurry to 
 get in ; he goes round patting the animals in turn, 
 to see which of them are warm. Then he comes back 
 to us, wiping his fingers with his handkerchief. 
 
 "Do you go ploughing with other people's horses, 
 Nils?" 
 
 Pause. 
 
 " I'll not have it here ; you understand ? " 
 
 " H'm ! No," says Nils submissively. Then suddenly 
 he flares up: " We've more need of horses this spring 
 than any season ever at 0vreb0 : we're taking up more 
 ground than ever before. And here were these strange 
 cattle standing here day after day eating and eating, 
 and doing never so much as the worth of the water 
 they drank. So I took them out for a bit of a spell now 
 and then, just enough to keep them in trim." 
 
 "I'll have no more of it. You hear what I say?" 
 repeated the Captain shortly. 
 Pause. 
 
 " Didn't you say one of the Captain's plough horses 
 was ailing yesterday ? " I put in.
 
 WANDERERS 155 
 
 Nils was quick to seize his chance. 
 
 "Ay. So it was. Standing all a-tremble in its box. 
 I couldn't have taken it out anyway." 
 
 The Captain looked me coldly up and down. 
 
 " What are you standing- here for ? " he asked sharply. 
 
 " Captain said I was to drive to the station." 
 
 " Well, then, be off and get ready." 
 
 But Nils took him up on the instant. 
 
 "That can't be done." 
 
 Bravo, Nils ! said I to myself. The lad was thoroughly 
 in the right, and he looked it, sturdily holding his own. 
 And as for the horses, our own had been sorely over- 
 done with the long season's work, and the strange 
 cattle stood there eating their heads off and spoiling 
 for want of exercise. 
 
 "Can't be done?" said the Captain, astounded. 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 " If Captain takes away the help I've got, then I've 
 finished here, that's all," says Nils. 
 
 The Captain walked to the stable door and looked 
 out, biting his moustache and thinking hard. Then 
 he asked over his shoulder : 
 
 " And you can't spare the lad, either? " 
 
 " No," said Nils ; " he's the harrowing to do." 
 
 This was our first real encounter with the Captain, 
 and we had our way. There were some little troubles 
 again later on, but he soon gave in. 
 
 "I want a case fetched from the station," he said 
 one day. " Can the boy go in for it? " 
 
 "The boy's as ill to spare as a man for us now," said 
 Nils. " If he's to drive in to the station now, he won't 
 be back till late to-morrow ; that's a day and a half lost." 
 
 Bravo ! I said to myself again. Nils had spoken to 
 me before about that case at the station ; it was a new 
 consignment of liquor ; the maids had heard about it. 
 
 There was some more talk this way and that. The
 
 156 WANDERERS 
 
 Captain frowned ; he had never known a busy season 
 last so long 1 before. Nils lost his temper, and said at 
 last: "If you take the boy off his field-work, then I 
 go." And then he did as he and I had agreed before- 
 hand, and asked me straight out : " Will you go, too ? " 
 
 "Yes," said I. 
 
 At that the Captain gave way, and said with a smile : 
 " Conspiracy, I see. But I don't mind saying you're 
 right in a way. And you're good fellows to work." 
 
 But the Captain saw but little of our work, and little 
 pleasure it gave him. He looked out now and again, 
 no doubt, over his fields, and saw how much was 
 ploughed and sown, but that was all. But we farm 
 hands worked our hardest, and all for the good of our 
 masters ; that was our way. 
 
 Ay, that was our way, no doubt. 
 
 But maybe now and again we might have just a 
 thought of question as to that zeal of ours, whether it 
 was so noble after all. Nils was a man from the 
 village who was anxious to get his field-work done at 
 least as quickly as any of his neighbours ; his honour 
 was at stake. And I followed him. Ay, even when he 
 put on that temperance badge, it was, perhaps, as much 
 as anything to get the Captain sober enough to see the 
 fine work we had done. And here again I was with 
 him. Moreover, I had perhaps a hope that Fruen, 
 that Fru Falkenberg at least, might understand what 
 good souls we were. I doubt I was no better than to 
 reckon so. 
 
 The first time I saw Fru Falkenberg close to was 
 one afternoon as I was going out of the kitchen. She 
 came walking across the courtyard, a slender, bare- 
 headed figure. I raised my cap and looked at her ; her 
 face was strangely young and innocent to see. And 
 with perfect indifference she answered my " Goddag" 
 and passed on.
 
 WANDERERS 157 
 
 It could not be all over for good between the Captain 
 and his wife. I based this view upon the following 
 grounds : 
 
 Ragnhild, the parlour-maid, was her mistress's friend 
 and trusted spy. She noted things on Fruen's behalf, 
 went last to bed, listened on the stairs, made a few 
 swift, noiseless steps when she was outside and some- 
 body called. She was a handsome girl, with very 
 bright eyes, and fine and warm-blooded into the bargain. 
 One evening I came on her just by the summer-house, 
 where she stood sniffing at the lilacs ; she started as I 
 came up, pointed warningly towards the summer-house, 
 and ran off with her tongue between her teeth. 
 
 The Captain was aware of Ragnhild's doings, and 
 once said to his wife so all might hear he was drunk, 
 no doubt, and annoyed at something or other : 
 
 "That Ragnhild's an underhand creature; I'd be 
 glad to be rid of her." 
 
 Fruen answered : 
 
 " It's not the first time you've wanted to get Ragnhild 
 out of the way ; Heaven knows what for ! She's the 
 best maid we've ever had." 
 
 " For that particular purpose, I dare say," he retorted. 
 
 This set me thinking. Fruen was perhaps crafty 
 enough to keep this girl spying, simply to make it seem 
 as if she cared at all what her husband did. Then 
 people could imagine that Fruen, poor thing, went 
 about secretly longing for him, and being constantly 
 disappointed and wronged. And then, of course, who 
 could blame her if she did the like in return, and went 
 her own way ? Heaven knows if that was the way of it ! 
 
 One day later on the Captain changed his tactics. 
 He had not managed to free himself from Ragnhild's 
 watchfulness ; she was still there, to be close at hand 
 when he was talking to Elisabeth in some corner, or 
 making towards the summer-house late in the evening
 
 158 WANDERERS 
 
 to sit there with someone undisturbed. So he tried 
 another way, and began making- himself agreeable to 
 that same Ragnhild. Oho ! 'twas a woman's wit no 
 doubt, 'twas Elisabeth had put him up to that ! 
 
 We were sitting at the long dining-table in the 
 kitchen, Nils and I and the lad ; Fruen was there, and 
 the maids were busy with their own work. Then in 
 comes the Captain from the house with a brush in his 
 hand. 
 
 " Give my coat a bit of a brush, d'you mind ? " says 
 he to Ragnhild. 
 
 She obeyed. When she had finished, he thanked 
 her, saying: "Thank you, my child." 
 
 Fruen looked a little surprised, and, a moment after, 
 sent her maid upstairs for something. The Captain 
 looked after her as she went, and said : 
 
 "Wonderfully bright eyes that girl has, to be sure." 
 
 I glanced across at Fruen. Her eyes were blazing, 
 her cheeks flushed, as she moved to leave the room. 
 But in the doorway she turned, and now her face was 
 pale. She seemed to have formed her resolution 
 already. Speaking over her shoulder, she said to her 
 husband : 
 
 " I shouldn't be surprised if Ragnhild's eyes were a 
 little too bright." 
 
 " Eh? " says the Captain, in surprise. 
 
 " Yes," says Fruen, with a slight laugh, nodding 
 over towards the table where we sat. " She's getting 
 a little too friendly with the men out here." 
 
 Silence. 
 
 " So perhaps she'd better go," Fruen went on. 
 
 It was incomparable audacity on Fruen's part, of 
 course, to say such a thing to our face, but we could 
 not protest ; we saw she was only using us to serve 
 her need. 
 
 When we got outside, Nils said angrily :
 
 WANDERERS 159 
 
 " I'm not sure but I'd better go back and say a word 
 or two myself about that." 
 
 But I dissuaded him, saying it was not worth 
 troubling 1 about. 
 
 A few days passed. Again the Captain found an 
 opportunity of paying barefaced compliments to 
 Ragnhild : " . . . with a figure like yours," he said. 
 
 And the tone of everything about the house now 
 badly changed from of old. Gone down, grown poorer 
 year by year, no doubt, drunken guests doing their 
 share to help, and idleness and indifference and child- 
 lessness for the rest. 
 
 In the evening, Ragnhild came to me and told me 
 she was dismissed ; Fruen had made some reference 
 to me, and that was all. 
 
 Once more a piece of underhand work. Fruen knew 
 well I should not be long on the place ; why not make 
 me the scapegoat? She was determined to upset her 
 husband's calculations, that was the matter. 
 
 Ragnhild, by the way, took it to heart a good deal, 
 and sobbed and dabbed her eyes. But after a while 
 she comforted herself with the thought that, as soon 
 as I was gone, Fruen would take back her dismissal 
 and let her stay. I, for my part, was inwardly sure that 
 Fruen would do nothing of the kind. 
 
 Yes, the Captain and Elisabeth might be content: the 
 troublesome parlour-maid was to be sent packing, 
 surely enough. 
 
 But who was to know? I might be out in my 
 reckoning after all. New happenings set me question- 
 ing anew ; ay, forced me to alter my judgment once 
 again. Tis a sorely difficult thing to judge the truth 
 of humankind. 
 
 I learned now, beyond doubt, that Fru Falkenberg 
 was truly and honestly jealous of her husband ; not
 
 160 WANDERERS 
 
 merely pretending to be, as so by way of covering her 
 own devious ways. Far, indeed, from any pretence 
 here. True, she did not really believe for a moment 
 that he was interested in her maid. But it suited her 
 purpose to pretend she did ; in her extremity, she 
 would use any means that came to hand. She had 
 blushed during that scene in the kitchen ; yes, indeed, 
 but that was a sudden and natural indignation at her 
 husband's ill-chosen words, nothing more. 
 
 But she had no objection to her husband's imagining 
 she was jealous of the girl. This was just what she 
 wanted. Her meaning was clear enough. I'm jealous 
 again, yes ; you can see it's all the same as before with 
 me : here I am ! Fru Falkenberg was better than I 
 had thought. For many years now the pair had 
 slipped farther and farther from each other through 
 indifference, partly perhaps towards the last, in defiance; 
 now she would take the first step and show that she 
 cared for him still. That was it, yes. But, in face ot 
 the one she feared most of all, she would not show her 
 jealousy for worlds and that was Elisabeth, this 
 dangerous friend of hers who was so many years 
 younger than herself. 
 
 Yes, that was the way of it. 
 
 And the Captain ? Was he moved at all to see his 
 wife flush at his words to her maid ? Maybe a shadow 
 of memory from the old days, a tinge of wonder, a 
 gladness. But he said no word. Maybe he was grown 
 prouder and more obstinate with the years that had 
 passed. It might well seem so from his looks. 
 
 Then it was there came the happenings I spoke of. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Fru Falkenberg had been playing with her husband 
 now for some little time. She affected indifference to
 
 WANDERERS 161 
 
 his indifference, and consoled herself with the casual 
 attentions of men staying in the house. Now one and 
 now another of them left, but stout Captain Bror and 
 the lady with the shawl stayed on, and Lassen, the 
 young engineer, stayed too. Captain Falkenberg 
 looked on as if to say : " Well and good, stay on by all 
 means, my dear fellow, as long as you please." And it 
 made no impression on him when his wife said " Du " 
 to Lassen and called him Hugo. " Hugo ! " she would 
 call, standing on the steps, looking out. And the 
 Captain would volunteer carelessly : " Hugo's just gone 
 down the road." 
 
 One day I heard him answer her with a bitter smile 
 and a wave of his hand towards the lilacs : " Little King 
 Hugo is waiting for you in his kingdom." I saw her 
 start ; then she laughed awkwardly to cover her con- 
 fusion, and went down in search of Lassen. 
 
 At last she had managed to wring some expression 
 of feeling out of him. She would try it again. 
 
 This was on a Sunday. 
 
 Later in the day Fruen was strangely restless ; she 
 said a few kindly words to me, and mentioned that 
 both Nils and I had managed our work very well. 
 
 " Lars has been to the post office to-day," she said, 
 " to fetch a letter for me. It's one I particularly want. 
 Would you mind going up to his place and bringing 
 it down for me?" 
 
 I said I would with pleasure. 
 
 " Lars won't be home again till about eleven. So 
 you need not start for a long time yet." 
 
 Very good. 
 
 "And when you get back, just give the letter to 
 Ragnhild." 
 
 It was the first time Fru Falkenberg had spoken to 
 me during my present stay at 0vreb0 ; it was some- 
 thing so new. I went up afterwards to my bedroom 
 ii
 
 1 62 WANDERERS 
 
 and sat there by myself, feeling as if something had 
 really happened. I thought over one or two things a 
 little as well. It was simply foolishness, I told myself, 
 to go on playing the stranger here and pretending 
 nobody knew. And a full beard was a nuisance in the 
 hot weather ; moreover, it was grey, and made me look 
 ever so old. So I set to and shaved it off. 
 
 About ten o'clock I started out towards the clearing. 
 Lars was not back. I stayed there a while with Emma, 
 and presently he came in. I took the letter and went 
 straight home. It was close on midnight. 
 
 Ragnhild was nowhere to be seen, and the other 
 maids had gone to bed. I glanced in at the shrubbery. 
 There sat Captain Falkenberg and Elisabeth, talking 
 together at the round stone table ; they took no notice 
 of me. There was a light in Fruen's bedroom upstairs. 
 And suddenly it occurred to me that to-night I looked 
 as I had done six years before, clean-shaven as then. 
 I took the letter out of my pocket and went in the 
 main entrance to give it to Fruen myself. 
 
 At the top of the stairs Ragnhild comes slipping 
 noiselessly towards me and takes the letter. She is 
 evidently excited. I can feel the heat of her breath 
 as she points along the passage. There is a sound of 
 voices from the far end. 
 
 It looked as if she had taken up her post here on 
 guard, or had been set there by someone to watch ; 
 however, it was no business of mine. And when she 
 whispered : " Don't say a word ; go down again 
 quietly ! " I obeyed, and went to my room. 
 
 My window was open. I could hear the couple down 
 among the bushes : they were drinking wine. And 
 there was still light upstairs in Fruen's room. 
 
 Ten minutes passed ; then the light went out. 
 
 A moment later I heard someone hurrying up the 
 stairs in the house, and looked down involuntarily to
 
 WANDERERS 163 
 
 see if it was the Captain. But the Captain was sitting 
 as before. 
 
 Now came the same steps down the stairs again, 
 and, a little after, others. I kept watch on the main 
 entrance. First comes Ragnhild, flying as if for her 
 life over towards the servants' quarters ; then comes 
 Fru Falkenberg with her hair down, and the letter in 
 her hand showing white in the gloom. After her 
 comes the engineer. The pair of them move down 
 towards the high road. 
 
 Ragnhild comes rushing in to me and flings herself 
 on a chair, all out of breath and bursting with news. 
 Such things had happened this evening, she whispered. 
 Shut the window ! Fruen and that engineer fellow 
 never a thought of being careful 'twas as near as ever 
 could be but they'd have done it. He was holding on 
 to her when Ragnhild went in with the letter. Ugh ! 
 Up in Fruen's room, with the lamp blown out. 
 
 "You're mad," said I to Ragnhild. 
 
 But the girl had both heard and seen well enough, 
 it seemed. She was grown so used to playing the spy 
 that she could not help spying on her mistress as well. 
 An uncommon sort, was Ragnhild. 
 
 I put on a lofty air at first, and would have none of 
 her tale-bearing, thank you, listening at keyholes. Fie ! 
 
 But how could she help it, she replied. Her orders 
 were to bring up the letter as soon as her mistress put 
 out the light, and not before. But Fruen's windows 
 looked out to the shrubbery, where the Captain was 
 sitting with Elisabeth from the vicarage. No place for 
 Ragnhild there. Better to wait upstairs in the passage, 
 and just take a look at the keyhole now and again, to 
 see if the light was out. 
 
 This sounded a little more reasonable. 
 
 " But only think of it," said Ragnhild suddenly, 
 shaking her head in admiration. " What a fellow he
 
 1 64 WANDERERS 
 
 must be, that engineer, to get as near as that with 
 Fruen." 
 
 As near as what ? Jealousy seized me ; I gave up 
 my lofty pose, and questioned Ragnhild searchingly 
 about it all. What did she say they were doing? How 
 did it all come about ? 
 
 Ragnhild could not say how it began. Fruen had 
 given her orders about a letter that was to be fetched 
 from Lars Falkenberg's, and when it arrived, she was 
 to wait till the light went out in Fruen's room, and 
 then bring it up. " Very good," said Ragnhild. " But 
 not till I put out the light, you understand," said Fruen 
 again. And Ragnhild had set herself to wait for the 
 letter. But the time seemed endless, and she fell to 
 thinking and wondering about it all ; there was some- 
 thing strange about it. She went up into the passage 
 and listened. She could hear Fruen and the engineer 
 talking easily and without restraint ; stooping down to 
 the keyhole, she saw her mistress loosening her hair, 
 with the engineer looking on and saying how lovely 
 she was. And then ah, that engineer he kissed her. 
 
 "On the lips, was it? . . ." 
 
 Ragnhild saw 1 was greatly excited, and tried to 
 reassure me. 
 
 " Well, perhaps not quite. I won't be sure ; but 
 still . . . and he's not a pretty mouth, anyway, to my 
 mind. ... I say, though, you've shaved all clean this 
 evening. How nice ! Let me see. ..." 
 
 "But what did Fruen say to that? Did she slip 
 away ? " 
 
 "Yes, I think so; yes, of course she did and 
 screamed." 
 
 " Did she, though? " 
 
 "Yes; out loud. And he said l Sh! y And every 
 time she raised her voice he said 'Sh/' again. But 
 Fruen said let them hear, it didn't matter ; they were
 
 WANDERERS 
 
 n^'r "7' *"""er y the 
 
 and Elisabeth fronthe V 4 '-I'' "" ' he Captain 
 you can see them,' she sa^d Tnrf """"" ' There ' 
 
 ' I know. I 
 
 * ~..w, says me ene-ineer < K,,f c TT 
 sake, don't stand there with h ' Heaven's 
 
 went over and g- o t her aw *?"* d Wn ! ' And he 
 they said a whole heap ofthin * 6 W1 ' nd W ' Then 
 
 you wouldn't shouvVe^s d U 'w Ud ^f'"' ' If On ^ 
 quiet up here.' Then she We f c uld be ever so 
 
 t there smiling at him W f, S . quiet for a b '> and just 
 ever so fond of hfm'' "* ^^ a Word - She was 
 
 "Was she?" 
 
 h. Only fancy , . 
 hands so-there OVer tOWards her - an " Put 
 
 Fr en sat still and let him?" 
 
 to 
 
 r a tt0 h 
 h 'm. I can't think ho, ^ "" and kisse d 
 
 a bit nice, "' F ' 
 
 go I ' she cried " ' * S ' r ng ' ' N > 
 
 and I didn't see wh at ha ^ Came " P W " h the 
 "ck. they'd turned the^ inl' ?"? ^ ' 
 la rdly see at all But II ^ I Ck> so ' 
 
 ~ you doing N hea n rd FrUe " -y'-NT= 'Oh, 
 *o, no, we mustn't ! ' She
 
 1 66 WANDERERS 
 
 must have been in his arms then. And then at last she 
 said: ' Wait, then ; let me get down a minute.' And 
 he let her go. ' Blow out the lamp,' she said. And 
 then it was all dark ... oh ! ... 
 
 " But now I was at my wits' end what to do," Ragn- 
 hild went on. " I stood a minute all in a flurry, and 
 was just going 1 to knock at the door all at once " 
 
 "Yes, yes; why didn't you? What on earth made 
 you wait at all ? " 
 
 "Why, if I had, then Fruen 'd have known in a 
 moment I'd been listening outside," answered the girl. 
 " No, I slipped away from the door and down the 
 stairs, then turned back and went up again, treading 
 hard so Fruen could hear the way I came. The door 
 was still fastened, but I knocked, and Fruen came and 
 opened it. But the engineer was just behind ; he'd 
 got hold of her clothes, and was simply wild after her. 
 ' Don't go ! don't go ! ' he kept on saying, and never 
 taking the slightest notice of me. But then, when I 
 turned to go, Fruen came out with me. Oh, but only 
 think ! It was as near as could be ! . . ." 
 
 A long, restless night. 
 
 At noon, when we men came home from the fields 
 next day, the maids were whispering something about 
 a scene between the Captain and his wife. Ragnhild 
 knew all about it. The Captain had noticed his wife 
 with her hair down the night before, and the lamp out 
 upstairs, and laughed at her hair and said wasn't it 
 pretty ! And Fruen said nothing much at first, but 
 waited her chance, and then she said: "Yes, I know. 
 I like to let my hair down now and again, and why 
 not? It isn't yours! " She was none so clever, poor 
 thing, at answering back in a quarrel. 
 
 Then Elisabeth had come up and put in her word. 
 And she was smarter prrr! Fruen did manage to
 
 WANDERERS 167 
 
 say: "Well, anyhow we were in the house, but you 
 two were sitting out among the bushes ! " And Elisabeth 
 turned sharp at that, and snapped out : " We didn't put 
 out the light!" "And if we did," said Fruen, "it 
 made no difference ; we came down directly after." 
 
 Heavens ! I thought to myself, why ever didn't she 
 say they put the light out because they were going 
 down? 
 
 That was the end of it for a while. But then, later 
 on, the Captain said something about Fruen being so 
 much older than Elisabeth. "You ought always to 
 wear your hair down," he said. "On my word, it 
 made you look quite a girl ! " " Oh yes, I dare say I 
 need it now," answered Fruen. But seeing Elisabeth 
 turn away laughing, she flared up all of a sudden 
 and told her to take herself off. And Elisabeth put her 
 hands on her hips, and asked the Captain to order her 
 carriage. " Right ! " says the Captain at that ; " and 
 I'll drive you myself! " 
 
 All this Ragnhild had heard for herself standing 
 close by. 
 
 I thought to myself they were jealous, the pair of 
 them she, of his sitting out in the shrubbery, and he, 
 of her letting her hair down and putting out the light. 
 
 As we came out of the kitchen, and were going across 
 for a rest, there was the Captain busy with Elisabeth's 
 carriage. He called me up and said : 
 
 " I ought not to ask you now, when you're having 
 your rest, but I wish you'd go down and mend the door 
 of the summer-house for me." 
 
 "Right!" I said. 
 
 Now that door had been wrong ever since the 
 engineer burst it open several nights before. What 
 made the Captain so anxious to have it put right just 
 at this moment ? He'd have no use for the summer- 
 house while he was driving Elisabeth home. Was it
 
 1 68 WANDERERS 
 
 because he wanted to shut the place up so no one else 
 should use it while he was away? It was a significant 
 move, if so. 
 
 I took some tools and things and went down to the 
 shrubbery. 
 
 And now I had my first look at the summer-house 
 from inside. It was comparatively new ; it had not 
 been there six years before. A roomy place, with pic- 
 tures on the walls, and even an alarm clock now run 
 down chairs with cushions, a table, and an upholstered 
 settee covered in red plush. The blinds were down. 
 
 I set a couple of pieces in the roof first, where I'd 
 smashed it with my empty bottle ; then I took off the 
 lock to see what was wrong there. While I was busy 
 with this the Captain came up. He had evidently been 
 drinking already that day, or was suffering from a 
 heavy bout the night before. 
 
 "That's no burglary," he said. "Either the door 
 must have been left open, and slammed itself to bits, or 
 someone must have stumbled up against it in the dark. 
 One of the visitors, perhaps, that left the other day." 
 
 But the door had been roughly handled, one could 
 see : the lock was burst open, and the woodwork on 
 the inside of the frame torn away. 
 
 " Let me see ! Put a new bolt in here, and force the 
 spring back in place," said the Captain, examining the 
 lock. He sat down in a chair. 
 
 Fru Falkenberg came down the stone steps to the 
 shrubbery, and called : 
 
 " Is the Captain there? " 
 
 "Yes," said I. 
 
 Then she came up. Her face was twitching with 
 emotion. 
 
 " I'd like a word with you," she said. " I won't keep 
 you long." 
 
 The Captain answered, without rising :
 
 WANDERERS 169 
 
 " Certainly. Will you sit down, or would you rather 
 stand ? No, don't run away, you ! I've none too much 
 time as it is," he said sharply to me. 
 
 This I took to mean that he wanted the lock mended 
 so he could take the key with him when he went. 
 
 " I dare say it wasn't I oughtn't to have said what I 
 did," Fruen began. 
 
 The Captain made no answer. 
 
 But his silence, after she had come down on purpose 
 to try and make it up, was more than she could bear. 
 She ended by saying: "Oh, well, it's all the same ; I 
 don't care." 
 
 And she turned to go. 
 
 " Did you want to speak to me? " asked the Captain. 
 
 " Oh no, it doesn't matter. Thanks, I shan't 
 trouble." 
 
 "Very well," said the Captain. He smiled as he 
 spoke. He was drunk, no doubt, and angry about 
 something. 
 
 But Fruen turned as she passed by me in the door- 
 way, and said : 
 
 " You ought not to drive down there to-day. There's 
 gossip enough already." 
 
 " You need not listen to it," he answered. 
 
 " It can't go on like this, you know," she said again. 
 " And you don't seem to think of the disgrace. . . ." 
 
 " We're both a little thoughtless in that respect," he 
 answered carelessly, looking round at the walls. 
 
 I took the lock and stepped outside. 
 
 "Here, don't go running away now!" cried the 
 Captain. " I'm in a hurry ! " 
 
 "Yes, you're in a hurry, of course," repeated Fruen. 
 "Going away again. But you'd do well to think it 
 over just for once. I've been thinking things over 
 myself lately ; only you wouldn't see . . ." 
 
 "What do you mean?" he asked, haughty and stiff
 
 1 70 WANDERERS 
 
 as ever. " Was it your fooling about at night with 
 your hair down and lights out you thought I wouldn't 
 see ? Oh yes, no doubt ! " 
 
 " I'll have to finish this on the anvil," said I, and 
 hurried off. 
 
 I stayed away longer than was needed, but when I 
 came back Fruen was still there. They were talking 
 louder than before. 
 
 " And do you know what I have done? " said Fruen. 
 " I've lowered myself so far as to show I was jealous. 
 Yes, I've done that. Oh, only about the maid. ... I 
 mean . . ." 
 
 " Well, and what then? " said the Captain. 
 
 "Oh, won't you understand? Well, have it your 
 own way, then. You'll have to take the consequences 
 later ; make no mistake about that ! " 
 
 It was her last words, and it sounded like an arrow 
 striking a shield. She stepped out and strode away. 
 
 " Manage it all right ? " said the Captain as I came up. 
 But I could see his thoughts were busy with other things ; 
 he was trying to appear unconcerned. A little after, 
 he managed to yawn, and said lazily : " Ugh, it's a long 
 drive. But if Nils can't spare a hand I must go myself." 
 
 I had only to fix the lock in its place, and set a new 
 strip down the inside of the door-frame ; it was soon 
 done. The Captain tried the door, put the key in his 
 pocket, thanked me for the work, and went off. 
 
 A little later he drove away with Elisabeth. 
 
 " See you again soon," he called to Captain Bror 
 and Engineer Lassen, waving his hand to them both. 
 " Mind you have a good time while I'm away ! " 
 
 IV 
 
 Evening came. And what would happen now ? 
 A great deal, as it turned out.
 
 WANDERERS 171 
 
 It started early ; we men were at supper while they 
 were having" dinner up at the house, and we could hear 
 them carrying on as gaily as could be. Ragnhild was 
 taking in trays of food and bottles, and waiting at table ; 
 once when she came out, she laughed to herself and 
 said to the other girls: "I believe Fruen's drunk 
 herself to-night." 
 
 I had not slept the night before, nor had my midday 
 rest ; I was troubled and nervous after all that had 
 happened the last two days. So, as soon as I had 
 finished my supper, I went out and up to the woods to 
 be alone. I stayed there a long while. 
 
 I looked down towards the house. The Captain 
 away, the servants gone to rest, the beasts in stable 
 and shed fast asleep. Stout Captain Bror and his lady, 
 too, had doubtless found a quiet corner all to themselves 
 after dinner ; he was simply wild about the woman, 
 for all he was old and fat and she herself no longer 
 young. That left only Fru Falkenberg and the young 
 engineer. And where would they be now? 
 
 'Twas their affair. 
 
 I sauntered home again, yawning and shivering a 
 little in the cool night, and went up to my room. 
 After a while Ragnhild came up, and begged me to 
 keep awake and be ready to help in case of need. It 
 was horrible, she said ; they were carrying on like 
 mad things up at the house, walking about from one 
 room to another, half undressed and drunk as well. 
 Was Fruen drunk, too ? Yes, she was. And was she 
 walking about half undressed ? No, but Captain Bror 
 was, and Fruen clapped her hands .and cried " Bravo ! " 
 And the engineer as well. It was one as bad as the 
 other. And Ragnhild had just taken in two more 
 bottles of wine, though they were drunk already. 
 
 " Come over with me and you can hear them yourself," 
 said Ragnhild. "They're up in Fruen's room now."
 
 i;2 WANDERERS 
 
 "No," I said. "I'm going to bed. And you'd 
 better go, too." 
 
 " But they'll ring in a minute and be wanting some- 
 thing if I do." 
 
 " Let them ring! " 
 
 And then it was Ragnhild confessed that the Captain 
 himself had asked her to stay up that night in case 
 Fruen should want her. 
 
 This altered the whole aspect of affairs in a moment. 
 Evidently the Captain had feared something might 
 happen, and set Ragnhild on guard in case. I put 
 on my blouse again and went across with her to the 
 house. 
 
 We went upstairs and stood in the passage ; we 
 could hear them laughing and making a noise in 
 Fruen's room. But Fruen herself spoke as clearly as 
 ever, and was not drunk at all. "Yes, she is," said 
 Ragnhild, "anyhow, she's not like herself to-night." 
 
 I wished I could have seen her for a moment. 
 
 We went back to the kitchen and sat down. But 
 I was restless all the time ; after a little I took down 
 the lamp from the wall and told Ragnhild to follow me. 
 We went upstairs again. 
 
 " No ; go in and ask Fruen to come out here to me," 
 I said. 
 
 "Why, whatever for?" 
 
 " I've a message for her." 
 
 And Ragnhild knocked at the door and went in. 
 
 It was only at the last moment I hit on any message 
 to give. I could simply look her straight in the face 
 and say: "The Captain sent his kind regards." 1 
 Would that be enough? I might say more: "The 
 
 1 Kapteinen bad mig hilse Dem : literally, "The Captain bade 
 me greet you." Such a message would not seem quite so 
 uncalled for in Norway, such greetings (Hilsen) being given and 
 sent more frequently, and on slighter occasion, than with us.
 
 WANDERERS 173 
 
 Captain was obliged to drive himself, because Nils 
 couldn't spare anyone to go." 
 
 But a moment can be long at times, and thought a 
 lightning flash. I found time to reject both these 
 plans and hatch out another before Fruen came. 
 Though I doubt if my last plan was any better. 
 
 Fruen asked in surprise : 
 
 " Well, what do you want ? " 
 
 Ragnhild came up, too, and looked at me wonder- 
 ingly. 
 
 I turned the lamp towards Fruen's face and said : 
 
 " I beg pardon for coming up so late. I'll be going 
 to the post first thing to-morrow ; I thought if perhaps 
 Fruen had any letters to go ? " 
 
 " Letters? No," she answered, shaking her head. 
 
 There was an absent look in her eyes, but she did 
 not look in the least as if she had been drinking. 
 
 " No, I've no letters," she said, and moved to go. 
 
 " Beg pardon, then," I said. 
 
 " Was it the Captain told you to go to the post?" 
 she asked. 
 
 " No, I was just going for myself." 
 
 She turned and went back to her room. Before she 
 was well through the door I heard her say to the 
 others : 
 
 "A nice pretext, indeed." 
 
 Ragnhild and I went down again. I had seen her. 
 
 Oh, but I was humbled now indeed ! And it did not 
 ease my mind at all when Ragnhild incautiously let 
 out a further piece of news. It seemed she had been 
 romancing before ; it was not true about the Captain's 
 having asked her to keep a look-out. I grew more 
 and more convinced in my own mind : Ragnhild was 
 playing the spy on her own account, for sheer love of 
 the game. 
 
 I left her, and went up to my room. What had my
 
 174 WANDERERS 
 
 clumsy intrusion gained for me, after all ? A pretext, 
 she had said ; clearly she had seen through it all. 
 Disgusted with myself, I vowed that for the future I 
 would leave things and people to themselves. 
 
 I threw myself down fully dressed on the bed. 
 
 After a while I heard Fru Falkenberg's voice outside 
 in front of the house ; my window was open, and she 
 spoke loudly enough. The engineer was with her, 
 putting in a word now and again. Fruen was in 
 raptures over the weather, so fine it was, and such a 
 warm night. Oh, it was lovely out now ever so much 
 nicer than indoors ! 
 
 But her voice seemed a trifle less clear now than 
 before. 
 
 I ran to the window, and saw the pair of them 
 standing by the steps that led down to the shrubbery. 
 The engineer seemed to have something on his mind 
 that he had not been able to get said before. "Do 
 listen to me now," he said. Then followed a brief 
 and earnest pleading, which was answered ay, and 
 rewarded. He spoke as if to one hard of hearing, 
 because she had been deaf to his words so long ; they 
 stood there by the stone steps, neither of them caring 
 for anyone else in the world. Let any listen or watch 
 who pleased ; the night was theirs, the world was 
 theirs, and the spring-time was about them, drawing 
 them together. He watched her like a cat ; every 
 movement of her body set his blood tingling ; he was 
 ready to spring upon her in a moment. And when it 
 came near to action there was a power of will in his 
 manner towards her. Ay, the young spark ! 
 
 " I've begged and prayed you long enough," he said 
 
 breathlessly. "Yesterday you all but would; to-day 
 
 you're deaf again. You think you and Bror and Tante x 
 
 and the rest are to have a good time and no harm 
 
 1 " Auntie." Evidently Captain Bror's lady is meant.
 
 WANDERERS 175 
 
 done, while I look on and play the nice young man ? 
 But, by Heaven, you're wrong ! Here's you yourself, 
 a garden of all good things right in front of me, and a 
 fence ... do you know what I'm going to do now 
 with that silly fence ? " 
 
 "What are you going to do? No, Hugo, you've 
 had too much to drink this evening. You're so young. 
 We've both drunk more than we ought," she said. 
 
 "And then you play me false into the bargain, with 
 your tricks. You send a special messenger for a letter 
 that simply can't wait, and at the same time you're 
 cruel enough to let me think ... to promise me . . ." 
 
 " I'll never do it again, Hugo." 
 
 "Never do it again? What do you mean by that? 
 When you can go up to a man yes, to me, and kiss 
 me like you did. . . . What's the good of saying 
 you'll never do it any more? It's done, and a kiss like 
 that's not a thing to forget. I can feel it still, and it's 
 a mad delight, and I thank you for it. You've got 
 that letter in your dress ; let me see it." 
 
 "You're so excited, Hugo. No, it's getting late 
 now. We'd better say good-night." 
 
 " Will you show me that letter? " 
 
 " Show you the letter ? Certainly not ! " 
 
 At that he made a half-spring, as if to take it by 
 force, but checked himself, and snapped out : 
 
 "What? You won't? Well, on my word you 
 are . . . Mean's not the word for it. You're some- 
 thing worse. ..." 
 
 "Hugo!" 
 
 ' ' Yes, you are ! " 
 
 "If you -will see the letter, here it is ! " She thrust 
 her hand into her blouse, took out her letter, opened it, 
 and waved it at him, flourishing her innocence. " Here's 
 
 the letter from my mother ; there's her signature 
 
 look. From mother and now what do you say ? "
 
 1 76 WANDERERS 
 
 He quailed as if at a blow, and only said : 
 
 "From your mother? Why, then, it didn't matter 
 at all ? " 
 
 " No ; there you are. Oh, but of course it did 
 matter in a way, but still ..." 
 
 He leaned up against the fence, and began to work 
 it out : 
 
 " From your mother ... I see. A letter from 
 your mother came and interrupted us. Do you know 
 what I think ? You've been cheating. You've been 
 fooling me all along. I can see it all now." 
 
 She tried again. 
 
 "It was an important letter. Mama is coming 
 she's coming here to stay very soon. And I was 
 waiting to hear." 
 
 "You were cheating all the time, weren't you?" he 
 said again. " Let them bring in the letter just at the 
 right moment, when we'd put out the light. Yes, that's 
 it. You were just leading me on, to see how far I'd go, 
 and kept your maid close at hand to protect you." 
 
 "Oh, do be sensible! It's ever so late; we must 
 go in." 
 
 " Ugh! I had too much to drink up there, I think. 
 Can't talk straight now." 
 
 He could think of nothing but the letter, and went 
 on about it again : 
 
 " For there was no need to have all that mystery 
 about a letter from home. No ; I see it all now. Want 
 to go in, you say? Well then, go in, Frue, by all 
 means. Godnat, Frue. My dutiful respects, as from 
 a son." 
 
 He bowed, and stood watching her with a sneering 
 smile. 
 
 " A son? Oh yes," she replied, with sudden emotion. 
 " I am old, yes. And you are so young, Hugo, that's 
 true. And that's why I kissed you. But I couldn't be
 
 WANDERERS 177 
 
 your mother no, it's only that I'm older, ever so much 
 older than you. But I'm not quite an old woman yet, 
 and that you should see if only . . . But I'm older than 
 Elisabeth and everyone else. Oh, what am I talking 
 about ? Not a bit of it. I don't know what else the 
 years may have done to me, but they haven't made me 
 an old woman yet. Have they ? What do you think 
 yourself? Oh, but what do you know about it? . . ." 
 
 " No, no," he said softly. " But is there any sense 
 in going on like this ? Here are you, young as you are, 
 with nothing on earth to do all the time but keep 
 guard over yourself and get others to do the same. 
 And the Lord in heaven knows you promised me a 
 thing, but it means so little to you ; you take a pleasure 
 in putting me off and beating me down with your great 
 white wings." 
 
 " Great white wings," she murmured to herself. 
 
 " Yes, you might have great red wings. Look at 
 yourself now, standing there all lovely as you are, and 
 all for nothing." 
 
 "Oh, I think the wine has gone to my head! All 
 for nothing, indeed ! " 
 
 Then suddenly she takes his hand and leads him down 
 the steps. I can hear her voice : " Why should I care ? 
 Does he imagine Elisabeth's so much better?" 
 
 They pass along the path to the summer-house. 
 Here she hesitates, and stops. 
 
 " Oh, where are we going? " she asks. " Haha, we 
 must be mad ! You wouldn't have thought I was mad, 
 would you ? I'm not, either that is to say, yes, I am, 
 now and again. There, the door's locked ; very well, 
 we'll go away again. But what a mean trick to lock 
 the door, when we want to go in." 
 
 Full of bitterness and suspicion, he answered : 
 
 " Now, you're cheating again. You knew well enough 
 the door was locked." 
 12
 
 1 78 WANDERERS 
 
 " Oh, must you always think the worst of me? But 
 why should he lock the door so carefully and have the 
 place all to himself? Yes, I did know it was locked, 
 and that's why I came with you. I dare not. No, 
 Hugo, I won't, I mean it. Oh, are you mad ? Come 
 back ! " 
 
 She took his hand again and tried to turn back ; they 
 stood struggling a little, for he would not follow. Then 
 in his passion and strength he threw both arms round 
 her and kissed her again and again. And she weakened 
 ever more and more, speaking brokenly between the 
 kisses : 
 
 " I've never kissed any other man before never ! 
 It's true I swear it. I've never kissed ..." 
 
 " No, no, no," he answers impatiently, drawing her 
 step by step the way he will. 
 
 Outside the summer-house he looses his hold of her a 
 moment, flings himself, one shoulder forward, heavily 
 against the door, and breaks it open for the second 
 time. Then in one stride he is beside her once more. 
 Neither speaks. 
 
 But even at the door, she checks again stands 
 clinging to the door-posts, and will not move. 
 
 " No, no, I've never been unfaithful to him yet. I 
 won't ; I've never never . . ." 
 
 He draws her to him suddenly, kisses her a full 
 minute, two minutes, a deep, unbroken kiss ; she leans 
 back from the waist, her hand slips where it holds, and 
 she gives way. . . . 
 
 A white mist gathers before my eyes. So ... they 
 have come to it now. Now he takes her, has his will 
 and joy of her. . . . 
 
 A melancholy weariness and rest comes over me. I 
 feel miserable and alone. It is late ; my heart has had 
 its day. . . . 
 
 Through the white mist comes a leaping figure ; it is
 
 WANDERERS 179 
 
 Ragnhild coming 1 up from among the bushes, running 
 with her tongue thrust out. 
 
 The engineer came up to me, nodded Godmorgen, and 
 asked me to mend the summer-house door. 
 
 "Is it broken again ? " 
 
 "Yes, it got broken last night." 
 
 It was early for him to be about no more than half- 
 past four ; we farm-hands had not yet started for the 
 fields. His eyes showed small and glittering, as if they 
 burned ; likely enough he had not slept all night. But 
 he said nothing as to how the door had got broken. 
 
 Not for any thought of him, but for Captain Falken- 
 berg's sake, I went down at once to the summer-house 
 and mended the door once again. No need for such 
 haste, maybe ; the Captain had a long drive there and 
 back, but it was close on twenty-four hours now since 
 he started. 
 
 The engineer came down with me. Without in the 
 least perceiving how it came about, I found myself 
 thinking well of him ; he had broken open that door 
 last night quite so, but he was not the man to sneak 
 out of it after. He and no other it was who had it 
 mended. Eh, well, perhaps after all 'twas only my 
 vanity was pleased. I felt flattered at his trusting to 
 my silence. That was it. That was how I came to 
 think well of him. 
 
 " I'm in charge of some timber-rafting on the rivers," 
 he said. " How long are you staying here? " 
 
 " Not for long. Till the field-work's over for the 
 season." 
 
 " I could give you work if you'd care about it." 
 
 Now this was work I knew nothing" of, and, what was 
 more, I liked to be among field and forest, not with 
 lumbermen and proletariat. However, I thanked him 
 for the offer.
 
 1 80 WANDERERS 
 
 " Very good of you to come and put this right. As a 
 matter of fact, I broke it open looking for a gun. I 
 wanted to shoot something, and I thought there might 
 be a gun in there." 
 
 I made no answer ; it would have pleased me better 
 if he had said nothing. 
 
 " So I thought I'd ask you before you started out to 
 work," he said, to finish off. 
 
 I put the lock right and set it in its place again, and 
 began nailing up the woodwork, which was shattered as 
 before. While I was busy with this, we heard Captain 
 Falkenberg's voice ; through the bushes we could see 
 him unharnessing the horses and leading them in. 
 
 The engineer gave a start ; he fumbled for his watch, 
 and got it out, but his eyes had grown all big and 
 empty they could see nothing. Suddenly he said : 
 
 "Oh, I forgot, I must . . ." 
 
 And he hurried off far down the garden. 
 
 " So he's going to sneak out of it, after all," I thought 
 to myself. 
 
 A moment later the Captain himself came down. He 
 was pale, and covered with dust, and plainly had not 
 slept, but perfectly sober. He called to me from a 
 distance : 
 
 " Hei ! how did you get in there ? " 
 
 I touched my cap, but said nothing. 
 
 " Somebody been breaking in again? " 
 
 " It was only ... I just remembered I'd left out 
 a couple of nails here yesterday. It's all right now. 
 If Captain will lock up again . . ." 
 
 Fool that I was ! If that was the best excuse I 
 could find, he would see through it all at once. 
 
 He stood for a few seconds looking at the door with 
 half-closed eyes ; he had his suspicions, no doubt. 
 Then he took out the key, locked up the place, and 
 walked off. What else could he do ?
 
 WANDERERS 181 
 
 All the guests are gone stout Captain Bror, the 
 lady with the shawl, Engineer Lassen as well. And 
 Captain Falkenberg is getting ready to start for 
 manoeuvres at last It struck me that he must have 
 applied for leave on very special grounds, or he would 
 have been away on duty long before this. 
 
 We farm-hands have been hard at work in the fields 
 the last few days a heavy strain on man and beast. 
 But Nils knew what he was doing ; he wanted to gain 
 time for something else. 
 
 One day he set me to work cleaning up all round 
 outside the house and buildings. It took all the time 
 gained, and more, but it made the whole place look 
 different altogether. And that was what Nils wanted 
 to cheer the Captain up a little before he left home. 
 And I turned to of my own accord and fixed up a loose 
 pale or so in the garden fence, straightened the door of 
 a shed that was wry on its hinges, and such-like. And 
 the barn bridge, too, needed mending. I thought of 
 putting in new beams. 
 
 "Where will you be going when you leave here?" 
 asked the Captain. 
 
 " I don't know. I'll be on the road for a bit." 
 "I could do with you here for a while; there's a 
 lot of things that want doing." 
 
 "Captain was thinking of paintwork, maybe?" 
 " Painting, too yes. I'm not sure about that, though ; 
 it would be a costly business, with the outbuildings and 
 all. No, I was thinking of something else. Do you 
 know anything about timber, now? Could you mark 
 down for yourself? " 
 
 It pleased him, then, to pretend he did not recognise 
 me from the time I had worked in his timber before. But 
 was there anything left now to fell ? I answered him :
 
 1 82 WANDERERS 
 
 "Ay, I'm used to timber. Where would it be this 
 year? " 
 
 "Anywhere. Wherever you like. There must be 
 something left, surely." 
 
 "Ay, well." 
 
 I laid the new beams in the barn bridge, and when 
 that was done, I took down the flagstaff and put on a 
 new knob and line. Ovrebo was looking quite nice 
 already, and Nils said it made him feel better only to 
 look at it. I got him to talk to the Captain and put 
 in a word about the paintwork, but the Captain had 
 looked at him with a troubled air and said : " Yes, yes, 
 I know. But paint's not the only thing we've got to 
 think about. Wait till the autumn and see how the 
 crops turn out. We've sowed a lot this year." 
 
 But when the flagstaff stood there with the old paint 
 all scraped off, and a new knob and halliards, the Captain 
 could not help noticing it, and ordered some paint by 
 telegraph. Though, to be sure, there was no such hurry 
 as all that ; a letter by the post had been enough. 
 
 Two days passed. The paint arrived, but was put 
 aside for the time being ; we had not done with the 
 field-work yet by a long way, though we were using 
 both the carriage horses for sowing and harrowing, 
 and when it came to planting potatoes, Nils had to ask 
 up at the house for the maids to come and help. The 
 Captain gave him leave, said yes to all that was asked, 
 and went off to manoeuvres. So we were left to 
 ourselves. 
 
 But there was a big scene between husband and wife 
 before he went. 
 
 Every one of us on the place knew there was trouble 
 between them, and Ragnhild and the dairymaid were 
 always talking about it. The fields were coming on 
 nicely now, and you could see the change in the grass- 
 land from day to-day ; it was fine spring weather, and
 
 WANDERERS 183 
 
 all things doing well that grew, but there was trouble 
 and strife at Ovrebo. Fruen could be seen at times 
 with a face that showed she had been crying ; or other 
 times with an air of exaggerated haughtiness, as if she 
 no longer cared for any encounter. Her mother came 
 a pale, quiet lady with spectacles and a face like a 
 mouse. She did not stay long only a few days ; then 
 she went back to Kristianssand that was where she 
 lived. The air here did not agree with her, she said. 
 
 Ah, that great scene ! A bitter final reckoning that 
 lasted over an hour Ragnhild told us all about it 
 afterwards. Neither the Captain nor Fruen raised 
 their voices, but the words came slow and strong. 
 And in their bitterness the pair of them agreed to go 
 each their own way from now on. 
 
 44 Oh, you don't say so!" cried all in the kitchen, 
 clasping their hands. 
 
 Ragnhild drew herself up and began mimicking: 
 
 1 You've been breaking into the summer-house again 
 with someone ? ' said the Captain. Yes,' said Fruen. 
 4 And what more ? ' he asked. ' Everything,' said she. 
 The Captain smiled at that and said : ' There's some- 
 thing frank and open about an answer like that ; you 
 can see what is meant almost at once.' Fruen said 
 nothing to that. ' What you can see in that young puppy, 
 I don't know though he did help me once out of a 
 fix.' Fruen looked at him then, and said: 'Helped 
 you ? ' ' Yes,' said the Captain ; ' backed a bill for 
 me once.' And Fruen said: 'I didn't know that.' 
 Then the Captain : 'Didn't he tell you that?' Fruen 
 shook her head. 'Well, what then?' he said again. 
 'Would it have made any difference if he had?' 
 'Yes,' said Fruen at first, and then No.' 'Are 
 you fond of him?' he asked. And she turned on 
 him at once. 'Are you fond of Elisabeth?' 'Yes,' 
 answered the Captain ; but he sat smiling after that.
 
 1 84 WANDERERS 
 
 ' Well and good,' said Fruen sharply. Then there 
 was a long silence. The Captain was the first to 
 speak. ' You were right when you said that about 
 thinking over things. I've been doing so. I'm not 
 a vicious man, really ; queerly enough, I've never really 
 cared about drinking and playing the fool. And yet I 
 suppose I did, in a way. But there's an end of it now.' 
 ' So much the better for you,' she answered sullenly. 
 ' Quite so,' says he again. ' Though it would have 
 been better if you'd been a bit glad to hear it.' ' You 
 can get Elisabeth to do that,' says she. ' Elisabeth,' 
 says he just that one word and shakes his head. 
 Then they said nothing for quite a while. ' What are 
 you going to do now?' asks the Captain. ' Oh, don't 
 trouble yourself about me,' said Fruen very slowly. 
 ' I can be a nurse, if you like, or cut my hair short and 
 be a school teacher, if you like.' ' If I like,' says he ; 
 ' no, decide for yourself.' ' I want to know what you 
 are going to do first,' she says. ' I'm going to stay 
 here where I am,' he answered, ' but you've turned 
 yourself out of doors.' And Fruen nodded and said : 
 'Very well.' ' 
 
 " Oh," from all in the kitchen. " Oh but, Herregud! 
 it will come right again surely," said Nils, looking 
 round at the rest of us to see what we thought. 
 
 For a couple of days after the Captain had gone, 
 Fruen sat playing the piano all the time. On the third 
 day Nils drove her to the station ; she was going to 
 stay with her mother at Kristianssand. That left us 
 more alone than ever. Fruen had not taken any of her 
 things with her ; perhaps she felt they were not really 
 hers ; perhaps they had all come from him originally, 
 and she did not care to have them now. Oh, but it 
 was all a misery. 
 
 Ragnhild was not to go away, her mistress had 
 said. But it was cook that was left in charge of
 
 WANDERERS 185 
 
 everything, and kept the keys, which was best for all 
 concerned. 
 
 On Saturday the Captain came back home on leave. 
 Nils said he never used to do that before. Fine and 
 upright in his bearing he was, for all that his wife was 
 gone away, and he was sober as could be. He gave me 
 orders, very short and clear, about the timber ; came 
 out with me and showed here and there. "Battens, 
 down to smallest battens, a thousand dozen. I shall 
 be away three weeks this time," he said. On the 
 Sunday afternoon he went off again. He was more 
 determined in his manner now more like himself. 
 
 We were through with the field-work at last, and the 
 potato-planting was done ; after that, Nils and the lad 
 could manage the daily work by themselves, and I went 
 up to my new work among the timber. 
 
 Good days these were for me, all through. Warm 
 and rainy at first, making the woods all wet, but I 
 went out all the same, and never stayed in on that 
 account. Then a spell of hot weather set in, and in 
 the light evenings, after I got home from work, it was 
 a pleasure to go round mending and seeing to little 
 things here and there a gutter-pipe, a window, and 
 the like. At last I got the escape ladder up and set to 
 scraping the old paint from the north wall of the barn 
 it was flaking away there of itself. It would be a 
 neat piece of work if I could get the barn done this 
 summer after all, and the paint was there all ready. 
 
 But there was another thing that made me weary at 
 times of the work and the whole place. It was not the 
 same working there now as when the Captain and 
 Fruen were at home ; I found here confirmation of the 
 well-known truth that it is well for a man to have some- 
 one over him at his work, that is, if he is not himself 
 in charge as leading man. Here were the maids now,
 
 1 86 WANDERERS 
 
 going about the place with none to look after them. 
 Ragnhild and the dairymaid were always laughing and 
 joking noisily at meal-times, and quarrelling now and 
 again between themselves ; cook's authority was not 
 always enough to keep the peace, and this often made 
 things uncomfortable. Also, it seemed that someone 
 must have been talking to Lars Falkenberg, my good 
 old comrade that had been, and made him suspicious of 
 me now. 
 
 Lars came in one evening and took me aside ; he had 
 come to say he forbade me to show myself on his place 
 again. His manner was comically threatening. 
 
 Now, I had not been there more than a few times with 
 washing maybe half a dozen times in all ; he had been 
 out, but Emma and I had talked a bit of old things 
 and new. The last time I was there Lars came home 
 suddenly and made a scene the moment he got inside 
 the door, because Emma was sitting on a stool in her 
 petticoat. " It's too hot for a skirt," she said. " Ho, 
 yes, and your hair all down your back too hot to put it 
 up, I suppose?" he retorted. Altogether he was in a 
 rage with her. I said good-night to him as I left, but 
 he did not answer. 
 
 I had not been there since. Then what made him 
 come over like this all of a sudden? I set it down as 
 more of Ragnhild's mischievous work. 
 
 When he had told me in so many words he forbade 
 me to enter his house, Lars nodded and looked at me ; 
 to his mind, I ought now to be as one dead. 
 
 " And I've heard Emma's been down here," he went 
 on. " But she'll come no more, I fancy, after this." 
 
 "She may have been here once or twice for the 
 washing." 
 
 " Ho, yes, the washing, of course. And you coming 
 up yourself Heaven knows how many times a week 
 more washing ! Bring up a shirt one day and a
 
 WANDERERS 187 
 
 pair of drawers the next, that's what you do. But you 
 can get Ragnhild to do your washing now." 
 
 " Well and good." 
 
 "Aha, my friend, I know you and your little ways. 
 Going and visiting and making yourself sweet to folk 
 when you find them all alone. But not for me, thank 
 you ! " 
 
 Nils comes up to us now, guessing, no doubt, what's 
 the trouble, and ready to put in a word for me, like the 
 good comrade he is. He catches the last words, and 
 gives me a testimonial on the spot, to the effect that 
 he's never seen anything wrong about me all the time 
 I've been in the place. 
 
 But Lars Falkenberg bridles up at once and puts on 
 airs, looking Nils up and down with contempt. He 
 has a grudge against Nils already. For though Lars 
 had managed well enough since he got his own little 
 place up in the wood, he had never equalled Nils's work 
 here on the Captain's land. And Lars Falkenberg feels 
 himself aggrieved. 
 
 "What have you got to come cackling about?" he 
 asks. 
 
 " I'm saying what is the truth, that's all," answers 
 Nils. 
 
 " Ho, are you, you goat? If you want me to wipe 
 the floor with you, I'll do it on the spot ! " 
 
 Nils and I walked away, but Lars still shouted after 
 us. And there was Ragnhild, of course, sniffing at the 
 lilacs as we passed. 
 
 That evening I began to think about moving on 
 again as soon as I had finished my work in the timber. 
 When the three weeks were up, the Captain came back 
 as he had said. He noticed I had scraped the northern 
 wall of the barn, and was pleased with me for that. 
 " End of it'll be you'll have to paint that again, too," 
 he said. I told him how far I had got with the timber ;
 
 1 88 WANDERERS 
 
 there was not much left now. " Well, keep at it and 
 do some more," was all he said. Then he went back 
 to his duty again for another three weeks. 
 
 But I did not care to stay another three weeks at 
 0vreb0 as things were now. I marked down a few 
 score dozen battens, and reckoned it all out on my 
 paper that would have to do. But it was still too 
 early for a man to live in the forests and hills ; the 
 flowers* were come, but there were no berries yet. 
 Song and twitter of birds at their mating, flies and 
 midges and moths, but no cloudberries, no angelica. 
 
 In town. 
 
 I came in to Engineer Lassen, Inspector of Rafting 
 Sections, and he took me on as he had promised, though 
 it was late in the season now. To begin with, I am to 
 make a tour of the water and see where the logs have 
 gathered thickest, noting down the places on a chart. 
 He is quite a good fellow, the engineer, only still very 
 young. He gives me over-careful instructions about 
 things he fancies I don't know already. It makes him 
 seem a trifle precocious. 
 
 And so this man has helped Captain Falkenberg out 
 of a mess? The Captain was sorry for it now, no 
 doubt, anxious to free himself from the debt that was 
 why he was cutting down his timber to the last lot of 
 battens, I thought. And I wished him free of it myself. 
 I was sorry now I had not stayed on marking down 
 a few more days, that he might have enough and to 
 spare. What if it should prove too little, after all ? 
 
 Engineer Lassen was a wealthy man, apparently. 
 He lived at an hotel, and had two rooms there. I never 
 got farther than the office myself, but even there he 
 had a lot of costly things, books and papers, silver 
 things for the writing-table, gilt instruments and 
 things ; a light overcoat, silk-lined, hung on the wall.
 
 WANDERERS 189 
 
 Evidently a rich man, and a person of importance in 
 the place. The local photographer had a large-sized 
 photograph of him in the show-case outside. I saw 
 him, too, out walking in the afternoons with the young 
 ladies of the town. Being in charge of all the timber 
 traffic, he generally walked down to the long bridge 
 it was four hundred and sixty feet across the rapids, 
 halted there, and stood looking up and down the river. 
 Just by the bridge piers, and on the flat rocks below 
 them, was where the logs were most inclined to jam, 
 and he kept a gang of lumbermen regularly at hand for 
 this work alone. Standing on the bridge there, watch- 
 ing the men at work among the logs, he looked like an 
 admiral on board a ship, young and strong, with power 
 to command. The ladies with him stopped willingly, 
 and stood there on the bridge, though the rush of water 
 was often enough to make one giddy. And the roar of 
 it was such that they had to put their heads together 
 when they spoke. 
 
 But just in this position, at his post on the bridge, 
 standing there and turning this way and that, there 
 was something smallish and unhandsome about his 
 figure; his sports jacket, fitting tightly at the waist, 
 seemed to pinch, and showed up over-heavy contours 
 behind. 
 
 The very first evening, after he'd given me my orders 
 to start off up the river next day, I met him out walk- 
 ing with two ladies. At sight of me he stopped, and 
 kept his companions waiting there, too, while he gave 
 me the same instructions all over again. "Just as well 
 I happened to meet you," he said. " You'll start off 
 early, then, to-morrow morning. Take a hooking pole 
 with you, and clear all the logs you can manage. If 
 you come across a big jam, mark it down on the chart 
 you've got a copy of the chart, haven't you ? And 
 keep on up river till you meet another man coming
 
 190 WANDERERS 
 
 down. But remember to mark in red, not blue. And 
 let me see how well you can manage. A man I've got to 
 work under me," he explained to the ladies. " I really 
 can't be bothered running up and down all the time." 
 
 So serious he was about it all ; he even took out a 
 notebook and wrote something down. He was very 
 young, and could not help showing off a little with two 
 fair ladies to look on. 
 
 Next morning I got away early. It was light at 
 four, and by that time I was a good way up the river. 
 I carried food with me, and my hooking pole which is 
 like a boat-hook really. 
 
 No young, growing timber here, as on Captain Fal- 
 kenberg's land ; the ground was stony and barren, 
 covered with heather and pine needles for miles round. 
 They had felled too freely here ; the sawmills had taken 
 over-much, leaving next to no young wood. It was a 
 melancholy country to be in. 
 
 By noon I had cleared a few small jams, and marked 
 down a big one. Then I had my meal, with a drink of 
 water from the river. A bit of a rest, and I went on 
 again, on till the evening. Then I came upon a big 
 jam, where a man was already at work among the logs. 
 This was the man I had been told to look out for. I 
 did not go straight up to him at first, but stopped to 
 look at him. He worked very cautiously, as if in terror 
 of his life ; he was even afraid of getting his feet wet. 
 It amused me to watch him for a little. The least 
 chance of being carried out into the stream on a 
 loosened log was enough to make him shift at once. 
 At last I went up close and looked at him why . . . 
 yes, it was my old friend, Grindhusen. 
 
 Grindhusen, that I had worked with as a young man 
 at Skreia my partner in the digging of a certain well 
 six years before. 
 
 And now to meet him here.
 
 WANDERERS 191 
 
 We gave each other greeting, and sat down on the 
 logs to talk, asking and answering for an hour or more. 
 Then it was too late to get any more done that day. 
 We got up and went back a little way up the river, 
 where Grindhusen had a bit of a log hut. We crept in, 
 lit a fire, made some coffee, and had a meal. Then, 
 going outside again, we lit our pipes and lay down in 
 the heather. 
 
 Grindhusen had aged, and was in no better case than 
 I myself; he did not care to think of the gay times in 
 our youth, when we had danced the whole night 
 through. He it was that had once been as a red-haired 
 wolf among the girls, but now he was thoroughly 
 cowed by age and toil, and had not even a smile. If 
 I had only had a drop of spirits with me it might have 
 livened him up a little, but I had none. 
 
 In the old days he had been a stiff-necked fellow, 
 obstinate as could be ; now he was easy-going and 
 stupid. "Ay, maybe so," was his answer to every- 
 thing. "Ay, you're right," he would say. Not that 
 he meant it ; only that life had taught him to seek the 
 easiest way. So life does with all of us, as the years 
 go by but it was an ill thing to see, meeting him so. 
 
 Ay, he got along somehow, he said, but he was not 
 the man he used to be. He'd been troubled with gout 
 of late, and pains in the chest as well. His pains in 
 the chest were cardialgic. But it was none so bad as 
 long as he'd the work here for Engineer Lassen. He 
 knew the river right up, and worked here all spring 
 and early summer in his hut. And as for clothes, he'd 
 nothing to wear out save breeches and blouse all the 
 year round. Had a bit of luck, though, last year, he 
 said suddenly. Found a sheep with nobody to own it 
 Sheep in the forest? Up that way, he said, pointing.' 
 He'd had meat on Sundays half through the winter 
 off that sheep. Then he'd his folks in America as good
 
 192 WANDERERS 
 
 as anyone else : children married there and well-to-do. 
 They sent him a little to help the first year or so, but 
 now they'd stopped ; it was close on two years now 
 since he'd heard from them at all. Eyah ! well, that's 
 how things were now with him and his wife. And 
 getting old. . . . 
 
 Grindhusen lapsed into thought. 
 
 A dull, rushing sound from the forest and the river, 
 like millions of nothings flowing and flowing on. No 
 birds here, no creatures hopping about, but if I turn up 
 a stone, I may find some insect under it. 
 
 " Wonder what these tiny things live on ? " I say. 
 
 "What tiny things?" says Grindhusen. "Those? 
 That's only ants and things." 
 
 " It's a sort of beetle," I tell him. " Put one on the 
 grass and roll a stone on top of it, and it'll live." 
 
 Grindhusen answers : " Ay, maybe so," but thinking 
 never a word of what I've said, and I think the rest to 
 myself ; but put an ant there under the stone as well, 
 and very soon there'll be no beetle left. 
 
 And the rush of the forest and river goes on : 'tis one 
 eternity that speaks with another, and agrees. But in 
 the storms and in thunder they are at war. 
 
 " Ay, so it is," says Grindhusen at last. " Two years 
 come next fourteenth of August since the last letter 
 came. There was a smart photograph in, from Olea, 
 it was, that lives in Dakota., as they call it. A mighty 
 fine photograph it was, but I never got it sold. Eyah, 
 but we'll manage somehow, please the Lord," says 
 Grindhusen, with a yawn. " What was I going to say 
 now ? . . . What is he paying for the work ? " 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 But Grindhusen looks at me suspiciously, thinking it 
 is only that I will not say. 
 
 "Ay, well, 'tis all the same to me," he says. "I 
 was only asking."
 
 WANDERERS I93 
 
 To please him, I try to guess a wage. " I dare say 
 he'll give me a couple of Kroner a day, or perhaps three, 
 d you think?" 
 
 "Ay, dare say you may," he answers enviously. 
 
 Two Kroner's all I get, and I'm an old hand at the 
 work." 
 
 Then fancying, perhaps, I may go telling of his 
 grumbling, he starts off in praise of Engineer Lassen 
 saying what a splendid fellow he is in every way' 
 
 He'll do what's fair by me, that I know. Trust him 
 for that ! Why, he's been as good as a father to me, 
 and that's the truth ! " 
 
 It sounds quaint, indeed, to hear Grindhusen, half his 
 teeth gone with age, talking of the young engineer as a 
 father. I felt pretty sure I could find out a good deal 
 about my new employer from this quarter, but I did 
 not ask. 
 
 " He didn't say anything about me coming down into 
 town ? " asked Grindhusen. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " He sends up for me now and again, and when I 
 get there, it's not for anything particular only wants 
 to have a bit of a chat with me, that's all. Ay, a fine 
 fellow is the engineer ! " 
 
 It is getting late. Grindhusen yawns again, creeps 
 into the hut and lies down. 
 
 Next morning we cleared the jam. Come up with 
 me my way a bit," says Grindhusen. And I went. 
 After an hour's walking, we sighted the fields and 
 buildings of a hill farm up among the trees. And 
 suddenly I recollect the sheep Grindhusen had found. 
 
 ^ Was it up this way you found that sheep ? " I ask. 
 
 Grindhusen looks at me. 
 
 " Here ? No, that was ever so far away right over 
 towards Trovatn."
 
 194 WANDERERS 
 
 " But Trovatn's only in the next parish, isn't it?" 
 
 " Yes, that's what I say. It's ever so far away from 
 here." 
 
 But now Grindhusen does not care to have my com- 
 pany farther ; he stops, and thanks me for coming up 
 so far. I might just as well go up to the farm with 
 him, and I say so ; but Grindhusen, it seems, is not 
 going up to the farm at all he never did. And I'd 
 just have an easy day back into town, starting now. 
 
 So I turned and went back the way I had come. 
 
 VI 
 
 It was no sort of work this for a man ; I was not 
 satisfied. Nothing but walk, walk up and down the 
 river, clearing a few logs here and there, and then on 
 again. And after each trip, back to my lodging-house 
 in the town. All this time I had but one man to talk 
 to the boots or porter at the hotel where the engineer 
 was staying. He was a burly fellow, with huge fists, 
 and eyes like a child's. He had fallen down and hurt 
 his head as a youngster, he said, and never got on in 
 life beyond hauling things and carrying heavy loads. 
 I had a talk with him now and again, but found no one 
 else to talk to in the town. 
 
 That little town ! 
 
 When the river is high, a mighty roar of sound goes 
 rushing through the place, dividing it in two. Folk 
 live in their little wooden houses north or south of the 
 roar, and manage, no doubt, to make ends meet from 
 day to day. Of all the many children crossing the 
 bridge and running errands to the shops, there is none 
 that goes naked, probably few that suffer want, and 
 all are decent looking enough. And here are big, tall, 
 half-grown girls, the quaintest of all, with their awk- 
 ward movements, and their laughter, and their earnest
 
 WANDERERS 
 
 occupation with their own little affair* w 
 
 nude one **" *" e ' S ^ and 
 
 nudge one another andgo o 
 But there are no birds here 
 
 Strange, that there should be no birds' 
 
 " 
 
 even 
 
 eent that 
 
 promenades 
 
 packet. Living- in Vestlanrf Jf u ^ P sU 
 
 ni.htP e 
 
 day? Oh, we are all so interest I ? S '' 
 
 little railway as well but th ' We have a 
 
 The line ends here it run, f ' C Unt f r much ' 
 stops, Bk. a cork "j^e far A a n S d '' Can P> and th - 
 cosy and pleasant about th^v ' SOmethin ?
 
 196 WANDERERS 
 
 then there's the sawmills and works by the riverside. 
 But as for grocery shops and stores, there's more than 
 you'd believe. 
 
 We've so many things altogether. I am a stranger 
 here myself as indeed I am everywhere yet I could 
 reckon up a host of things we have besides the river. 
 Was the town a big place once upon a time ? No, it 
 has been a little town for two hundred and fifty years. 
 But there was once a great man over all the smaller 
 folk one who rode lordly fashion with a servant behind 
 him a great landowner. Now we are all equal ; saving, 
 perhaps, with Engineer Lassen, this something-and- 
 t wen ty- year-old Inspector of Rafting Sections, who can 
 afford two rooms at his hotel. 
 
 I have nothing to do, and find myself pondering over 
 the following matter : 
 
 Here is a big house, somewhere about a couple of 
 hundred years old, the house of the wealthy Ole Olsen 
 Ture. It is of enormous size, a house of two stories, 
 the length of a whole block ; it is used as a depot now. 
 In the days when that house was built there was no 
 lack of giant timber hereabouts ; three beams together 
 make the height of a man, and the wood is hard as 
 iron ; nothing can bite on it. And inside the building 
 are halls and cells as in a castle. Here Ture the Great 
 ruled like a prince in his day. 
 
 But times changed. Houses were made not only 
 big, not only to live in for shelter from cold and rain, 
 but also to look on with pleasure to the eye. On the 
 opposite side of the river stands an old archaic building 
 with carefully balanced verandah in the Empire style, 
 pillars, fronton, and all. It is not faultless, but hand- 
 some all the same ; it stands out like a white temple on 
 the green hillside. One other house I have seen and 
 stopped to look at ; one near the market-place. Its 
 double street door has old handles and carved rococo
 
 WANDERERS ig? 
 
 mirrors, but the frames cannelated in the style of 
 Louis xvr. The cartouche above the doorway bears 
 the date 1795 m Arabic numerals that was our transi- 
 tion period here ! So there were folk here at that time 
 who kept in touch with the times, without the aid of 
 steam and telegraph. 
 
 But later on, again, houses were built to keep off- 
 ram and snow and nothing else. They were neither 
 big nor beautiful to look at. The idea was to put up 
 some sort of a dwelling-, Swiss fashion-a place to keep 
 a wife and children in, and that was all. And we 
 learned from a miserable little people up in the Alps, 
 a people that throughout its history has never been or 
 done anything worth speaking of-we learned to pay 
 heed to what a homestead really looked like, as 
 long as it met with the approval of loafing tourists Is 
 there something of the calm and beauty of a temple 
 about that white building on the hillside ? And pray 
 what's the use of it if there is? And the great big 
 house that dates from the time of Ole Olsen Ture, why 
 hasn tit been pulled down long ago ? There would be 
 >m for a score of cheap dwellings on the site 
 Things have gone downhill, gone to the depths 
 And now the little cobbler-soul can rejoice-not because 
 we re all grown equally great, but because we're all 
 equally small. 'Tis our affair ! 
 
 The long bridge is pleasant to walk on because it is 
 paved with planks, and even as a floor; all the young 
 ad.es can walk gracefully here. And the bridge is 
 light and open at the sides, making an excellent look- 
 out place for us inquisitive folk. 
 
 Down on the raft of tangled logs the men are shout- 
 ing, as they strain to free the timber that has caught and 
 =tuck fast among the rocks and boulders in the river- 
 Bd. Stick after stick comes floating down and joins 
 e mass already gathered ; the jam grows and grows ;
 
 193 WANDERERS 
 
 at times there may be a couple of hundred dozen baulks 
 hung up at one spot. But if all goes well, the gang 
 can clear the jam in time. And if fate will have it ill, 
 some unlucky lumberman may be carried down as well, 
 down the rapids to his death. 
 
 There are ten men with boat-hooks on the jam, all 
 more or less wet from falling in. The foreman points 
 out the log next to be freed, but we, watching from the 
 bridge, can see now and again that all the gang are not 
 agreed. There is no hearing what is said, but we can 
 see some of them are inclined to get another log out first ; 
 one of the old hands protests. Knowing his speech as 
 I do, I fancy I can hear him saying stubbornly and 
 calmly: "I doubt we'd better see and get that one 
 clear first." Ten pairs of eyes are turned towards the 
 stick he has chosen, tracing the lie of it in among 
 its tangled fellows ; jif the men agree, ten boat-hooks 
 are thrust into it. Then for a moment the poles stand 
 out from the log like the strings of a harp ; a mighty 
 "ffbf" from the gang, a short, tense haul, and it 
 moves a trifle forward. A fresh grip, another shout, 
 and forward again. It is like watching half a score of 
 ants about a twig. And at last the freed log slides out 
 and away down the rapids. 
 
 But there are logs that are almost immovable, and 
 often it is just one of the worst that has to be cleared 
 before anything else can be done. Then the men 
 spread out and surround it, fixing their hooks wherever 
 they can get a sight of it in the tangle, some hauling, 
 others thrusting outward ; if it is dry, they splash 
 water over it to make it slippery. And here the poles 
 are nowise regularly set like harp-strings, but lie cross- 
 wise at all angles like a cobweb. 
 
 Sometimes the shouting of the gang can be heard 
 all day long from the river, silenced only for meals ; 
 ay, it may happen that it goes on for days together.
 
 WANDERERS 199 
 
 Then suddenly a new sound falls on the ear : the 
 stroke of the axe ; some devil of a log has fixed itself 
 so cunningly there is no hauling it free, and it has 
 to be cut through. It does not take many strokes 
 to do it, for the pressure on it already is enormous ; 
 soon it breaks, the great confused mass yields, and 
 begins to move. All the men are on their guard 
 now, holding back to see what is coming next ; if the 
 part they are standing on shows signs of breaking loose, 
 they must leap with catlike swiftness to a safer spot. 
 Their calling is one of daily and hourly peril ; they 
 carry their lives in their hands. 
 
 But the little town is a living death. 
 
 It is pitiful to see such a dead place, trying to 
 pretend it is alive. It is the same with Bruges, the 
 great city of the past, and with many cities in Holland, 
 in South Germany, the north of France, the Orient. 
 Standing in the market-place of such a town one 
 cannot but think: "Once, once upon a time this 
 was a living place ; there are still human beings 
 walking in the streets ! " 
 
 Strange, this town of ours is hidden away, shut 
 in by the hills and yet for all that it has no doubt 
 its local feminine beauty and its local masculine 
 ambition just as all other towns. Only it is such a 
 queer, outlandish life that is lived here, with little 
 crooked fingers, with eyes as of a mouse, and ears 
 filled day and night with the eternal rushing of the 
 waters. A beetle on its way in the heather, a stub 
 of yellow grass sticks up here and there huge trees 
 they seem to the beetle's eye ! Two local merchants 
 walk across the bridge. Going to the post, no doubt. 
 They have this very day decided to go halves in a 
 whole sheet of stamps, buying them all at once for the 
 sake of the rebate on a quantity !
 
 200 WANDERERS 
 
 Oh, those local tradesmen ! 
 
 Each day they hang out their stocks of ready-made 
 clothes, and dress their windows with their stuffs 
 and goods, but rarely do I see a customer go in. I 
 thought to myself at first : But there must surely be 
 someone now and then a peasant from somewhere 
 up the valley, coming into town. And I was right ; 
 I saw that peasant to-day, and it was strange and 
 pleasant to see him. 
 
 He was dressed like the pictures in our folk-tales 
 a little short jacket with silver buttons, and grey 
 breeches with a black leather seat. He was driving 
 a tiny little haycart with a tiny little horse, and up in 
 the cart was a little red-flanked cow on its way to 
 the butcher's, I suppose. All three man, horse, and 
 cow were undersized ; palaeolithic figures ; dwarf 
 creatures from the underworld on a visit to the 
 haunts of men. I almost looked to see them vanish 
 before my eyes. All of a sudden the cow in its 
 Lilliputian cart utters a throaty roar and even that 
 unromantic sound was like a voice from another 
 world. 
 
 A couple of hours later I come upon the man again, 
 minus horse and cow ; he is wandering round among 
 the shops on his errands. I follow him to the saddler's 
 saddler and harness-maker Vogt is also a glazier, 
 and deals in leather as well. This merchant of many 
 parts offers to serve me first, but I explain that I 
 must look at a saddle, and some glass, and a trifle 
 of leather first, I am in no hurry. So he turns to the 
 elfin countryman. 
 
 The two are old acquaintances. 
 
 " So here's you come to town ? " 
 
 " Ay, that's the way of it." 
 
 And so on through the whole rigmarole ; wind and 
 weather, and the state of the roads ; wife and children
 
 WANDERERS 201 
 
 getting on as usual ; season and crops ; river's fallen 
 so much the last week ; butchers' prices ; hard times 
 nowadays, etc. Then they begin trying the leather, 
 pinching and feeling and bending it about and talking 
 it over. And when at last a strip is cut off and 
 weighed, the mannikin finds it a marvel, sure, that 
 ever it could weigh so much ! Reckon it at a round 
 figure, those little bits of weights aren't worth count- 
 ing! And the two of them argue and split over this 
 for a good solid while, as is right and proper. When 
 at last it comes to paying for the goods, a fantastic 
 leather purse is brought to light, a thing out of a fairy 
 tale. Slowly and cautiously the heavy fist draws forth 
 the coins, one shilling after another ; both parties count 
 the money over again and again, then the mannikin 
 closes his purse with an anxious movement ; that is 
 all he has ! 
 
 " Why, you've coin and paper too ; I saw a note 
 in there." 
 
 " Nay, I'll not break the note." 
 
 More reckoning and arguing a long business this ; 
 each gives way a little, they split the difference and 
 the deal is over. 
 
 "And a terrible heap to pay for a bit of leather," 
 says the purchaser. And the dealer answers : 
 
 " Nay, you've got it a bargain. But don't forget me 
 next time you're in town." 
 
 Towards evening I meet the mannikin once more, 
 driving home again after his venture into the world. 
 The cow has been left behind at the butcher's. There 
 are parcels and sacks in the cart, but the little man him- 
 self jogs along behind, the leather seat of his breeches 
 stretching to a triangle at every step. And whether 
 for thoughtlessness, or an overweight of thought after 
 all these doings and dealings, he wears a rolled-up 
 strip of sole leather like a ring about one arm.
 
 202 WANDERERS 
 
 So money has flowed into the town once more ; a 
 peasant has come in and sold his cow, and spent the 
 price of it again in goods. The event is noticed every- 
 where at once : the town's three lawyers notice it, the 
 three little local papers notice it ; money is circulating 
 more freely of late. Unproductive but it helps the 
 town to live. 
 
 Every week the little local papers advertise town 
 properties for sale ; every week a list is issued by the 
 authorities of houses to be sold in liquidation of the 
 unpaid tax. What then? Ah, but mark how many 
 properties come on the market that way ! The barren, 
 rocky valley with its great river cannot feed this 
 moribund town ; a cow now and again is not enough. 
 And so it is that the properties are given up, the 
 Swiss-pattern houses, the dwellings and shelters. Out 
 Vestland way, if ever a house in one of the little towns 
 should chance to come up for sale, it is a great event ; 
 the inhabitants flock together on the quay to talk it 
 over. Here, in our little town beyond all hope, it 
 occasions no remark when another wearied hand leaves 
 hold of what it had. My turn now 'twill be another's 
 before long. And none finds it worth while sorrowing 
 much for that. 
 
 Engineer Lassen came to my lodging and said : 
 
 " Put on your cap and come with me to the station 
 to fetch a trunk." 
 
 " No," said I. " I'm not going to do that." 
 
 " Not going to . . ." 
 
 " No. There's a porter at the hotel for that sort of 
 thing. Let him earn the money." 
 
 It was quite enough. The engineer was very young ; 
 he looked at me and said nothing. But, being obstinate 
 by nature, he would not give up at once ; he changed 
 his tone.
 
 WANDERERS 203 
 
 " I'd rather have you," he said. " I've a reason for 
 it, and I wish you would." 
 
 "That's a different matter. Then I will." 
 
 I put on my cap, and I am ready ; he walks on ahead, 
 and I follow behind. Ten minutes' waiting at the 
 station, and the train comes in. It consists of three 
 toy carriages, and a few passengers tumble out. In 
 the rear carriage is a lady trying to alight ; the 
 engineer hurries to assist her. 
 
 I paid no great heed to what was happening. The 
 lady was veiled and wore gloves ; a light coat she 
 handed to her escort. She seemed embarrassed at 
 first, and said only a few words in a low voice, but he 
 was quite the reverse, talking loudly and freely all the 
 time. And when he begged her to take off her veil, 
 she grew bolder, and did as he said. 
 
 " Do you know me now?" she said. And suddenly 
 I pricked up my ears ; it was Fru Falkenberg's voice. 
 I turned round and looked her in the face. 
 
 It is no easy matter to be old and done with and 
 behave as such. The moment I realised who it was 
 standing there I could think of nothing but my age- 
 worn self, and how to stand and bow with ease and 
 respect. Now, I had among my possessions a blouse, 
 and breeches of brown corduroy such as labourers wear 
 in the south ; an excellent, well-looking suit, and new. 
 But, alas 1 I had not put it on to-day. And the lack of 
 it at that moment irked me. I was down-hearted at 
 the thought. And, while the two stood there talking, 
 I fell to wondering why the engineer had wanted me so 
 particularly to come with him to the station. Could it 
 be for the matter of a few shilling to the porter ? Or 
 was it to show off with a servant at his heels? Or had 
 he thought that Fruen would be pleased to have 
 someone she knew in attendance? If the last, then 
 he was greatly mistaken ; Fruen started in evident
 
 204 WANDERERS 
 
 displeasure at finding me here, where she had thought, 
 perhaps, to be safely concealed. I heard the engineer 
 say: "I've got a man here, he'll take your luggage 
 down. Have you the ticket ? " But I made no sign 
 of greeting. I turned away. 
 
 And afterwards I triumphed over him in my miserable 
 soul, thinking how annoyed she would be with him for 
 his want of tact. He brought up with him a man who 
 had been in her employ when she had a home ; but 
 that man had some delicacy of feeling, he turned away, 
 pretending not to know her ! Lord knows what the 
 women found to run after in this tight-waisted youth 
 with the heavy contours behind. 
 
 There are fewer people on the platform now ; the 
 little toy waggons are rolled away and shunted about 
 to build another train ; at last we are left with the 
 whole place to ourselves. Fruen and the engineer 
 stand talking. What has she come for? Heaven 
 knows ! Young Lovelace, perhaps, has had a spasm 
 of longing and wants her again. Or is she come of 
 her own accord to tell him what has happened, and 
 ask his advice ? Like as not the end of it will be they 
 fix things up and get married some day. Mr. Hugo 
 Lassen is, of course, a chivalrous gentleman, and she 
 his one and only love. And then comes the time when 
 she should walk on roses and live happily ever after ! 
 
 " No, really, it would never do ! " he exclaims, with a 
 laugh. " If you won't be my aunt, then you'll have to 
 be my cousin." 
 
 " S-sh ! " whispers Fruen. "Can't you get rid of 
 that man there ? " 
 
 Whereupon the engineer comes up to me with the 
 luggage receipt in his hand, and in his lordliest 
 manner, as an Inspector addressing a gang of lumber- 
 men, he says : 
 
 " Bring this along to the hotel."
 
 WANDERERS 205 
 
 " Very good," I answer, touching my cap. 
 
 I carried down the trunk, thinking as I went. He 
 had actually invited her to pass as his aunt ! Visibly 
 older she might be than he ; still, here again he had 
 shown himself wanting in tact. I would not have said 
 such a thing myself. I would have declared to all and 
 sundry: " Behold, here is come a bright angel to visit 
 King Hugo ; see how young and beautiful she is ; 
 mark the slow, heavy turn of her grey eyes ; ay, a 
 weighty glance ! But there is a shimmer of sea-fire in 
 her hair I love her ! Mark her, too, when she speaks, 
 a mouth good and fine, and with ever and again a little 
 helpless look and smile. I am King Hugo this day, 
 and she is my love ! " 
 
 The trunk was no heavier than many another burden, 
 but there were bronzed iron bands round, and one of 
 them tore a hole in my blouse at the back. So I 
 thanked my stars I had not worn my better one to 
 spoil. 
 
 VII 
 
 Some days passed. I was growing tired of my 
 empty occupation, which consisted in doing nothing 
 but loaf about the place. I went to the foreman of the 
 gang and asked him to take me on as a lumberman, 
 but he refused. 
 
 These gentlemen of the proletariat think a good deal 
 of themselves ; they look down on farm-workers, and 
 will have nothing to do with them. They are ever on 
 the move, going from one waterway to another, draw- 
 ing their wages in cash, and spending a fair part of 
 the same in drink. Then, too, they are more popular 
 among the girls. It is the same with men working on 
 roads or railways, with all factory-hands ; even the 
 mechanic is looked down upon, and as for the farm 
 hand, he is a very slave !
 
 206 WANDERERS 
 
 Now, I knew I could be pretty sure of a place in the 
 gang any day if I cared to ask the engineer. But, in 
 the first place, I had no wish to be further indebted to 
 him, and in the second, I might be sure that if I did, 
 my friends the lumbermen would make my life a misery 
 until I had gone through all the trouble of making 
 myself respected for my deserts. And that might take 
 longer than I cared about. 
 
 And then one day the engineer came to me with 
 instructions that I was to observe with care. He spoke 
 politely and sensibly this time : 
 
 " We've had no rain for a long time now ; the river's 
 getting steadily lower, and the logs are piling up on the 
 way down. I want you to tell the man above and the 
 one below to be extra careful about their work just 
 now, and you yourself, of course, will do the same." 
 
 " We're sure to get rain before long," I said, for the 
 sake of saying something. 
 
 ''That may be," he answered, with the intense 
 earnestness of youth, " but I must act all the same as 
 if there were never to be rain again. Now remember 
 every word I've said. I can't be everywhere at once 
 myself, more especially now that I've a visitor." 
 
 I answered him with a face as serious as his own 
 that I would do my very best. 
 
 So I was still bound to my idling occupation after 
 all, and wandered up and down the river as before with 
 my boat-hook and my rations. For my own satisfaction 
 I cleared away bigger and bigger jams unaided, sang 
 to myself as if I were a whole gang, and worked hard 
 enough for many men ; also I carried the new instruc- 
 tions to Grindhusen, and frightened him properly. 
 
 But then came the rain. 
 
 And now the sticks went dancing down through 
 channel and rapids, like huge, pale serpents hurrying, 
 hurrying on, now head, now tail in air.
 
 WANDERERS 207 
 
 Easy days these for my engineer ! 
 For myself, I was ill at ease in the town and in my 
 lodging there. I had a little room to myself, but one 
 could hear every sound in the place, and there was 
 little rest or comfort. Moreover, I found myself out- 
 done in everything by the young lumbermen who lodged 
 there. 
 
 I patrolled the river-bank regularly those days, 
 though there was little or nothing for me to do there. 
 1 would steal away and sit in hiding under an over- 
 hanging rock, hugging the thought of how I was old, 
 and forsaken by all ; in the evenings I wrote many 
 letters to people I knew, just to have someone to talk 
 to ; but I did not send the letters. Joyless days were 
 these. My chief pleasure was to go about noticing 
 every little trifle in the town, wherever it might be, and 
 thinking a little upon each. 
 
 But was my engineer so free from care ? I began to 
 doubt it. 
 
 Why was he no longer to be seen out early and late 
 with this new cousin of his ? He would even stop 
 another young lady on the bridge and pass the time of 
 day a thing he had not done this fortnight gone. I 
 had seen him with Fru Falkenberg once or twice ; she 
 looked so young and prettily dressed, and happy a 
 little reckless, laughing out loud. That's what it's 
 like when a woman first steps aside, I thought to 
 myself ; but to-morrow or the day after it may be 
 different ! And when I saw her again later on I was 
 annoyed with her ; there was something overbold about 
 her dress and manner, the old charm and sweetness 
 were gone. Where was the tenderness now in her 
 eyes? Nothing but bravado ! And furiously I told 
 myself that her eyes shone like a pair of lamps at the 
 door of a music hall. 
 
 By the look of things the couple had begun to weary
 
 208 WANDERERS 
 
 of each other, since he had taken to going out alone, 
 and she spent much of her time sitting looking out of 
 the window in the hotel. And this, no doubt, was why 
 stout Captain Bror made his appearance once again ; 
 his mission was perhaps to bring jollity and mirth to 
 others besides himself. And this jovial lump of de- 
 formity certainly did his best ; his guffaws of laughter 
 rang through the little town one whole night long. 
 Then his leave expired, and he had to go back to drill 
 and duty Fru Falkenberg and her Hugo were left to 
 themselves once more. 
 
 One day, while I was in a shop, I heard that there 
 had been some slight difference of opinion between 
 Engineer Lassen and his cousin. A commercial tra- 
 veller was telling the shopkeeper all about it. But so 
 great was the general respect for the wealthy engineer 
 throughout the town that the shopman would hardly 
 believe the story, and questioned the scandal- monger 
 doubtingly. 
 
 " It must have been in fun, I'm sure. Did you hear 
 it yourself? When was it ? " 
 
 The traveller himself did not dare to make more of it. 
 
 "My room's next to his," he said, "so I couldn't 
 help hearing it last night. They were arguing ; I don't 
 say it was a quarrel lord, no ! as delicate as could be. 
 She only said he was different now from what he had 
 been ; that he'd changed somehow. And he said it 
 wasn't his fault, he couldn't do as he liked here in town. 
 Then she asked him to get rid of somebody she didn't 
 like one of his men, a lumberman, I suppose. And 
 he promised he would." 
 
 " Well, there you are just nothing at all," said the 
 shopkeeper. 
 
 But the traveller had heard more, I fancy, than he 
 cared to say. I could tell as much by his looks. 
 
 And had I not noticed myself how the engineer had
 
 WANDERERS 209 
 
 changed ? He had talked out loud so cheerfully at the 
 station that first day ; now he could be obstinately 
 silent when he did go so far as to take Fruen for a walk 
 down to the bridge. I could see well enough how they 
 stood looking each their separate ways. Lord God in 
 heaven, but love is a fleeting thing ! 
 
 All went well enough at first. She said, no doubt, 
 that it was quite a nice little place, with the great big 
 river and the rapids, and so strang'e to hear the roar of 
 the waters all the time ; and here was a real little town 
 with streets and people in " And then you here, too ! " 
 And he, of course, would answer: "Yes, and you! " 
 Oh, they were everything to each other at first ! But 
 then they grew weary of good things ; they took too 
 much took love in handfuls, such was their foolish- 
 ness. And more and more clearly he realised that 
 things were getting awry ; the town was such a little 
 place, and this cousin of his a stranger he could not 
 keep on being her attendant squire for ever. No, they 
 must ease off a little gradually ; now and then, perhaps 
 only occasionally, of course it would be as well to 
 have their meals at different times. If not, some of 
 those commercial travellers would be getting ideas into 
 their heads about the loving cousins. Remember, in a 
 little place like this and she . . . how could she 
 understand it ? A little place yes, but surely it was 
 no smaller now than it had been at first ? No, no, my 
 friend, it is you that have changed ! 
 
 There had been plenty of rain, and the timber was 
 coming down beautifully. Nevertheless, the engineer 
 took to going off on little trips up or down the river. 
 It seemed as if he were glad to get away ; he looked 
 worried and miserable altogether now. 
 
 One day he asked me to go up and tell Grindhusen 
 to come in to town. Was it Grindhusen, I wondered, 
 14
 
 210 WANDERERS 
 
 that was to be dismissed? But Fruen had never so 
 much as set eyes on Grindhusen since she came ; what 
 could he have done to offend her ? 
 
 I fetched Grindhusen in accordingly. He went up to 
 the hotel at once to report, and the engineer put on his 
 things and went out with him. They set off up river 
 and disappeared. 
 
 Later in the day Grindhusen came to my lodging, 
 and was ready enough to tell, but I asked him nothing. 
 In the evening the lumbermen gave him Brcendevin, 
 and the spirit loosened his tongue. What about this 
 cousin, or something, engineer had got with him ? How 
 much longer was she going to stay ? As to this, nobody 
 could say; and, anyhow, why shouldn't she stay? 
 "'Tis naught but fooling and trouble with such-like 
 cousin business," Grindhusen declared. " Why couldn't 
 he bring along the girl he's going to marry? and I 
 told him so to his face." 
 
 " You told him ? " asked one of the men. 
 
 "Ay, I did that. You may not know it, but Inspector 
 and I we sit there talking as it might be me and you," 
 said Grindhusen, looking mighty big and proud. "What 
 d'you suppose he sent to fetch me for? You'd never 
 guess if you sat there all night. Why, he sent for me 
 just to have a talk over things. Not that there's any- 
 thing new or strange about that ; he's done the same 
 before now ; but, anyhow, that's what it was." 
 
 " What'd he want to talk to you about?" asked 
 one. 
 
 Grindhusen swelled, and was not to be drawn at once. 
 " Eh, I'm not such a fool, but I know how to talk with 
 a man. And it's not my way to be contrary neither. 
 4 You know a thing or two, Grindhusen,' says the 
 Inspector, ' and there's two Kroner for you,' says he. 
 Ay, that's what he said. And if you don't believe me, 
 why, here's the money, and you can see. There ! "
 
 WANDERERS 211 
 
 " But what was it all about?" asked several voices 
 at once. 
 
 " He'd better not say, if you ask me," I said. 
 
 It struck me that the engineer must have been miser- 
 able and desperate when he sent me to fetch Grind- 
 husen. He was so little used to trouble that the 
 moment anything went wrong he felt the need of some- 
 one to confide in. And now when he was going about 
 day after day, thoroughly disheartened and full of pity 
 for himself, as if he wanted everyone to know how 
 miserable he was at being checked in his play. This 
 sportsman, with his figure moulded in the wrong place, 
 was a travesty of youth, a Spartan in tears. What 
 sort of upbringing could his have beqn ? 
 
 Ah, well, if he had been an old man I had found 
 reason and excuse for him enough ; if the truth were 
 known, it was perhaps but hatred of his youth that 
 moved me now. Who can say ? But I know I looked 
 upon him as a travesty, a caricature. 
 
 Grindhusen stared at me when I had spoken my few 
 words ; the others, too, looked wonderingly. 
 
 " I'll not say but it might be better not," said 
 Grindhusen submissively. 
 
 But the men were not to be put off. 
 
 "And why shouldn't he tell? We're not going to 
 let it go farther." 
 
 "No, that we shan't," said another. "But you 
 might be one of that sort yourself, and go telling tales 
 to the Inspector." 
 
 Grindhusen took courage at this, and said : 
 
 "I'll say what I like, so don't you trouble yourself! 
 Tell just as much as I please. For I'm saying no 
 more than's true. And in case you'd care to know, 
 I can tell you the Inspector's got a word to say to you 
 very soon. Ay, that he has, or hearing goes for nothing. 
 So you've no call to be anyway stuck up yourself. And
 
 212 WANDERERS 
 
 as for me telling or not telling things, I'm saying never 
 a thing but what's the truth. Just remember that. 
 And if you knew as much as I do, she's nothing but 
 a plague and a burden to him all the time, and won't 
 let him out of her sight. D'you call that cousins, 
 going on like that ? " 
 
 " Nay, surely ; nay, surely ! " said the men en- 
 couragingly. 
 
 "What d'you think he sent for me about? Ay, 
 there's the pretty fellow he sent up with the message ! 
 But there'll be a message for him one of these days : 
 I gathered as much from the Inspector himself. I'll 
 say no more than that. And as for me telling things, 
 here's Inspector's been like a father to me, and I'd be 
 a stock and a stone to say otherwise. ' I'm all upset 
 and worried these days, Grindhusen,' says he to me. 
 ' And what's a man to do ; can you tell me that now ? ' 
 ' No,' says I, ' but Inspector knows himself,' says I. 
 Those very words I said. ' I wish to Heaven I did,' 
 says he again. ' But it's all these wretched women,' 
 says he. ' If it's women,' says I, ' why, there's no 
 doing anything with them,' says I. ' No, indeed, 
 you're right there ! ' says he. ' The only way's to 
 give them what they were made for, and a good round 
 slap on the backside into the bargain,' says I. 'By 
 Heaven, I believe you're right there, Grindhusen,' says 
 the Inspector, and he brightened up no end. I've 
 never seen a man so brightened up and cheerful just 
 for a word or so. It was a sight to see. And you can 
 take and drown me if it isn't gospel truth every single 
 bit I've said. I sat there just as I'm sitting now, and 
 Inspector as it might be there. ..." 
 
 And Grindhusen rambled on. 
 
 Next morning early, before it was fairly light, 
 Engineer Lassen stopped me in the street. It was
 
 WANDERERS 2 1 3 
 
 only half-past three. I was all fitted out for a tramp 
 up the river, with my boat-hook and a store of food. 
 Grindhusen was having a drinking-bout in town, and 
 I was going to do his beat as well as my own. That 
 would take me right up to the top of the hills, and 
 I had packed a double stock of food accordingly. 
 
 The engineer was evidently coming down from a 
 party somewhere ; he was laughing and talking loudly 
 with a couple of other men, all of them more or less 
 drunk. 
 
 "Go on ahead a bit," he said to the others. And 
 then, turning to me, he asked: "Where are you 
 off to ? " 
 
 I told him what I had in mind. 
 
 "H'm! I don't know about that," said he. "No, 
 I think you'd better not. Grindhusen can manage all 
 right by himself. And, besides, I'm going to inspect 
 myself. You've no business to go off doing things 
 like that without asking me first." 
 
 Well, he was right, of course, so far as that went, 
 and I begged his pardon. And, indeed, knowing as 
 I did how he was set on playing the master and lording 
 it over his men, I might have had more sense. 
 
 But begging his pardon only seemed to egg him on ; 
 he felt deeply injured, and grew quite excited over it, 
 
 "I'll have no more of this!" he said. "My men 
 are here to carry out my orders ; that's all they've got 
 to do. I took you on to give you a chance, not because 
 I'd any use for you myself. And I've no use for you 
 now, anyhow." 
 
 I stood there staring at him, and said never a word. 
 
 "You can come round to the office to-day and get 
 your wages," he went on. And then he turned to go. 
 
 So I was the one to be dismissed ! Now I under- 
 stood what Grindhusen had meant with his hints about 
 me. Fru Falkenberg, no doubt, had come to hate the
 
 214 WANDERERS 
 
 sight of me by now, reminding her, as it must, of her 
 home, and so she had got him to turn me off. But hadn't 
 I been the very one to show delicacy of feeling towards 
 her at the station, turning away instead of recognising 
 her? Had I ever so much as lifted my cap to her 
 when I passed her in the street? Surely I had been 
 considerate enough to deserve consideration in return ? 
 
 And now here was this young engineer turning me 
 off at a moment's notice, and that with unnecessary 
 vehemence. I saw it all in my mind : he had been 
 worrying himself for days over this dismissal, shirking 
 it all the time, until at last he managed to screw his 
 courage up by drinking hard all night. Was I doing 
 him an injustice ? It might be so ; and I tried to 
 combat the thought myself. Once more I called to 
 mind that he was young and I was old, and my heart, 
 no doubt, full of envy on that account. So I gave him 
 no sarcastic answer now, but simply said : 
 
 "Ay, well, then, I can unpack the things I was 
 taking along." 
 
 But the engineer was anxious to make the most of 
 his chance now he was fairly started ; he dragged in 
 the old story about the time he'd wanted me to go 
 and fetch a trunk. 
 
 "When I give an order, I don't expect the man to 
 turn round and say no, he won't. I'm not used to that 
 sort of thing. And as there's no knowing it may not 
 occur again, you'd better go." 
 
 " Well and good," said I. 
 
 I saw a figure in a white dress at a window in the 
 hotel, and fancied it must be Fru Falkenberg watching 
 us, so I said no more. 
 
 But then the engineer seemed suddenly to remember 
 that he couldn't get rid of me once and for all on the 
 spot ; he would have to see me again to settle up. So 
 he changed his tone and said: "Well, anyhow, come
 
 WANDERERS 2 1 5 
 
 up sometime to-day and get your money. Have you 
 thought over how much it ought to be? " 
 
 " No. That'll be for engineer himself to decide." 
 
 "Well, well," he said in a kindlier voice, " after all, 
 you've been a good man to have, I will say that for 
 you. But, for various reasons and it's not only for 
 myself: you know what women that is, I mean, the 
 ladies " 
 
 Oh, but he was young indeed. He stopped at 
 nothing. 
 
 " Well good morning ! " He nodded abruptly, and 
 turned away. 
 
 But the day proved all too short for me ; I went up 
 into the woods, and stayed roaming about there all by 
 myself so long that I didn't get to the office to draw 
 my money. Well, there was no hurry ; I had plenty 
 of time. 
 
 What was I to do now ? 
 
 I had not cared much for the little town before, but 
 now it began to interest me ; I would gladly have 
 stayed on a while. There were complications arising 
 between two people whom I had been following atten- 
 tively for some weeks past ; something fresh might 
 happen any moment now, there was no saying. I 
 thought of going as apprentice to a blacksmith, just 
 for the sake of staying in the place, but then, if I did, 
 I should be tied to the smithy all day and hampered 
 in my movements altogether ; apart from which, the 
 apprenticeship would take too many years of my life. 
 And years were the thing I least of all could spare. 
 
 So I let the days pass, one after another ; the 
 weather changed round again to dry, sunny days. 
 I stayed on at the lodging-house, mended my clothes, 
 and got some new ones made at a shop. One of the 
 maids in the house came up one evening and offered to
 
 216 WANDERERS 
 
 do some mending for me, but I was more in the mood 
 for fooling", and showed her how well I managed the 
 work myself. 
 
 "Look at that patch, there, now and that!" 
 After a while a man came up the stairs and tried 
 the door. " Open, you in there ! " he said. 
 
 " It's Henrik, one of the lumbermen," said the girl. 
 
 "Is he your sweetheart? " I asked. 
 
 "No, indeed, I should think not," she answered. 
 " I'd rather go without than have a fellow like him." 
 
 " Open the door, d'you hear!" cried the man outside 
 But the girl was not frightened in the least. " Let 
 him stay outside," she said. And we let him stay 
 outside. But that door of mine bent inwards in a 
 great curve every now and then, when he pushed his 
 hardest. 
 
 At last, when we'd finished making fun about my 
 needlework and her sweethearts, I had to go out and 
 see the passage was clear before she would venture 
 downstairs. But there was no man there. 
 
 It was late now; I went down to the parlour for 
 a bit, and there was Grindhusen drinking with some of 
 the gang. "There he is!" said one of them, as I 
 came in. It was Henrik who spoke ; he was trying 
 to get his mates against me. Grindhusen, too, sided 
 with the rest of them, and tried all he could to 
 annoy me. 
 
 Poor Grindhusen ! He was stale-drunk all the time 
 now, and couldn't get clear of it. He had had another 
 meeting with Engineer Lassen ; they had walked up 
 the river as before and sat talking for an hour, and 
 when Grindhusen came back he showed a new two- 
 Kroner piece he'd got. Then he went on the drink 
 again, and gabbled about being in the engineer's 
 confidence. This evening, too, he was all high-and- 
 mightiness, not to be outdone by anybody.
 
 WANDERERS 217 
 
 " Come in and sit down," he said to me. 
 
 But one or two of the other men demurred ; they 
 would have nothing to do with me. And at this Grind- 
 husen changed front ; for sheer devilment he fell to 
 again about the engineer and his cousin, knowing it 
 would annoy me. 
 
 "Well, has he turned you off?" he asked, with a 
 side glance at the others, as if to bid them watch what 
 was coming. 
 
 "Yes," said I. 
 
 "Aha! I knew all about it days ago, but I never 
 said a word. I don't mind saying I knew about it 
 before any other single soul in the world of us here, 
 but did I ever breathe a word of it? Inspector he 
 says to me : ' I want to ask you something, Grindhusen,' 
 says he, ' and that is, if you'll come down and work in 
 the town instead of the man I've got there now. I 
 want to get rid of him,' says he. ' Why, as to that,' 
 says I, 'it's just as Inspector's pleased to command.' 
 That was my very words, and neither more nor less. 
 But did I ever breathe a syllable? " 
 
 "Has he turned you off?" asked one of the other 
 men then. 
 
 "Yes," I answered. 
 
 " But as for that cousin of his," Grindhusen went on, 
 " he asked me about her, too. Ay, Inspector he asks 
 my advice about all sorts of things. And now, this last 
 time we were up river together, he slapped his knee 
 when he talked of her. So there. And you can guess 
 for yourselves till to-morrow morning if you like. 
 Everything of the best to eat and drink and every way, 
 and costing a heap of money each week ; but she stays 
 on and on. Fie and for shame, say I, and I mean it 
 too." 
 
 But now it seemed as if the scale had turned in my 
 favour at the news of my dismissal ; some of the men
 
 2 1 8 WANDERERS 
 
 perhaps felt sorry for me, others were glad to learn 
 that I was going. One of them offered me a drink 
 from his own bottle, and called to the maid for 
 "another glass a clean one, you understand ! " Even 
 Henrik no longer bore me any grudge, but drank with 
 me and was friendly enough. And we sat there gossip- 
 ing over our glasses quite a while. 
 
 " But you'd better go up and see about that money 
 of yours," said Grindhusen. " For from what I've 
 heard, I don't fancy you'll get the Inspector to come 
 down here with it after you. He said as much. 
 'There's money owing to him,' that was what he said, 
 ' but if he thinks I'm going to run after him with it, 
 you can tell him it's here,' he said." 
 
 VIII 
 
 But the engineer did come down after me, as it 
 turned out, though it was queer it should be so. 
 Anyhow, it was a triumph I had not sought, and I 
 cared nothing for it. 
 
 He came to the lodging-house to see me, and said : 
 " I want you to come back with me, if you please, and 
 get your money. And there's a letter come for you by 
 the post." 
 
 When we stepped into the office, Fru Falkenberg 
 was there. I was taken aback at finding her there 
 I made a bow and stood over by the door. 
 
 " Sit down, won't you? " said the engineer, going to 
 the table for my letter. "Here you are. No, sit 
 down and read your letter while I'm reckoning up 
 your pay." 
 
 And Fru Falkenberg herself motioned me to a 
 chair. 
 
 Now, what were they looking so anxious about ? 
 And what was the meaning of this sudden politeness
 
 WANDERERS 219 
 
 and " Won't you sit down? " and all the rest? I had 
 not to wait long to find out : the letter was from 
 Captain Falkenberg. 
 
 " Here, you can use this," said Fruen very obligingly, 
 handing me a letter-opener. 
 
 A simple, ordinary letter, nothing more ; indeed, it 
 began almost jestingly : I had run away from 0vreb0 
 before he knew I was going, and hadn't even waited 
 for my money. If I imagined he was in difficulties and 
 would not be able to pay me before the harvest was in 
 if that was why I had left in such a hurry, why, he 
 hoped I had found out I was mistaken. And now he 
 would be very glad if I would come back and work for 
 him if I wasn't fixed up elsewhere. The house and 
 outbuildings wanted painting, then there would be the 
 harvesting, and, after that, he would like to have me 
 for work among the timber. Everything looking well 
 here, fields nice and tall, meadows nice and thick. 
 Glad to hear as soon as you can in answer to this. 
 Yours, FALKENBERG. 
 
 The engineer had finished his reckoning. He turned 
 on his chair and looked over at the wall. Then, as if 
 suddenly remembering something, he turned sharply to 
 the table again. Nervousness, that was all. Fruen 
 stood looking at her rings, but I had a feeling she 
 was stealthily watching me all the time thoroughly 
 nervous, the pair of them ! 
 
 Then said the engineer : 
 
 "Oh, by the way, I noticed your letter was from 
 Captain Falkenberg. How are things going there ? I 
 knew the writing at once." 
 
 "Would you like to read the letter?" I said 
 promptly, offering it as I spoke. 
 
 " No oh no. Thanks, all the same. Not in the 
 least. I was only ..." 
 
 But he took the letter, all the same. And Fruen
 
 220 WANDERERS 
 
 came across to him and stood looking over his shoulder 
 as he read. 
 
 " H'm ! " said the engineer, with a nod. " Everything 
 going on nicely, it seems. Thanks." And he held 
 out the letter to give it back. 
 
 Fruen's manner was different. She took the letter 
 from him and began studying it herself. Her hand 
 shook a little. 
 
 " Well, now, about the money," said the engineer. 
 " Here you are ; that's what I make it. I hope you're 
 satisfied all right ? " 
 
 " Yes, thank you," said I. 
 
 He seemed relieved to find that Captain Falkenberg's 
 letter was only about myself and made no mention of 
 anyone else. And again he tried to soften down my 
 dismissal. 
 
 " Well, well," he said. " But if you should happen 
 to be in these parts any time, you know where to find 
 me. We've all but finished now for this year there's 
 been too much drought just lately." 
 
 Fruen was still holding the letter. Then I saw she 
 had finished reading, for her eyes never moved ; but 
 she stood there, staring at the letter, thinking. What 
 was in her mind, I wondered ? 
 
 The engineer glanced at her impatiently. 
 
 "Are you learning it off by heart? " he said, with a 
 half-smile. "Come, dear, he's waiting." 
 
 "Oh, I beg your pardon," said Fruen quickly. " I 
 forgot." And she handed me the letter. 
 
 " So it seems," observed the engineer. 
 
 I bowed, and went out. 
 
 On a summer evening the bridge is crowded with 
 people out walking school teachers and tradespeople, 
 young girls and children. I watch my time when it is 
 getting late, and the bridge is deserted ; then I can
 
 WANDERERS 221 
 
 lounge over that way myself, and stay for an hour or 
 so in the midst of the roar. No need to do anything 
 really but listen ; only my brain is so over-rested with 
 idleness and good sound sleep, it finds no end of things 
 to busy itself about. Last evening I determined in all 
 seriousness to go to Fru Falkenberg and say: "Go 
 away from here, Frue ; leave by the first train that 
 goes." To-day I have been calling myself a fool for 
 entertaining such a ridiculous thought, and set in its 
 place another: "Get out of this yourself, my good 
 man, by the first train that goes. Are you her equal, 
 her adviser ? Very well, then ; see that what you do is 
 not too utterly at variance with what you are ! " 
 
 And this evening I am still treating myself as I 
 deserve. I fall to humming a little tune, but can 
 scarcely hear it myself ; the sound is crushed to death 
 in the roar of the water. "That's right," I say to 
 myself scornfully. " You ought always to stand by a 
 deafening water when you feel like humming a tune." 
 And I laugh at myself again. With such-like childish 
 fancies do I pass the time. 
 
 The noise of the rapids anywhere inland is as useful 
 to the ear as the noise of breakers on the shore. But 
 the voice of the breakers is louder and fainter by turns. 
 The roar of waters in a river-bed is like an audible 
 fog, a monotony of sound beyond reason, contrary to 
 all sense, a miracle of idiocy. "What is the time, do 
 you know?" "Yes, isn't it?" "Day or night?" 
 " Yes ! " As if someone had laid a stone on six keys 
 of an organ, and walked off and left it there. 
 
 With such childish fancies do I while away the time. 
 
 " Godaften!" says Fru Falkenberg, and there she 
 is beside me. 
 
 I hardly felt surprised ; it was almost as if I had 
 expected her. After her behaviour with her husband's 
 letter, she might well go a little farther.
 
 222 WANDERERS 
 
 Now I could think two ways about her coming" : 
 either she had turned thoroughly sentimental at being 
 reminded so directly of her home once more, or she 
 wanted to make her engineer jealous ; he might 
 perhaps be watching us from his window that very 
 moment, and I had been sent for to go back to 0vreb0. 
 Possibly she was thoroughly calculating, and had been 
 trying to work on his jealousy even yesterday, when 
 she studied the letter so attentively. 
 
 It seemed, however, that none of my clever theories 
 was to be confirmed. It was me she wanted to see, 
 and that only to make a sort of apology for getting 
 me dismissed. That she should ever care about such 
 a trifle ! Was she so incapable of thinking seriously 
 that she could not see what a miserable position she 
 herself was in ? What in the devil's name had she to 
 do with my affairs ? 
 
 I had thought to say a brief word or so and point 
 to the train, but something made me gentle, as if I 
 were dealing with an irresponsible, a child. 
 
 "You'll be going back to 0vreb0 now, I suppose?" 
 she said. "And I thought I'd like . . . H'm ! . . . 
 You're sorry to be leaving here, perhaps ? No ? No, 
 no, of course not. But I must tell you something : It 
 was I that got you dismissed." 
 
 "It doesn't matter." 
 
 " No, no. Only, I wanted to tell you. Now that 
 you're going back to 0vreb0. You can understand it 
 was a little unpleasant for me at times to . . ." 
 
 She checked herself. 
 
 "To have me about the place. Yes, it would be 
 unpleasant." 
 
 "To see you here. A little unpleasant; I mean, 
 because you knew about me before. So I asked the 
 engineer if he couldn't send you away. Not that he 
 wanted to himself, you understand. Quite the reverse,
 
 WANDERERS 223 
 
 in fact, but he did at last. I'm glad you're goine 
 back to Ovrebo." 
 
 "So?" said I. "But when Fruen comes home 
 again surely it will be just as unpleasant to see me 
 then?" 
 
 " Home ? " she repeated. " I'm not going home." 
 Pause. She had frowned as she spoke. But now 
 
 she nodded, and even smiled a little, and turned to go. 
 ' Well, well, you'll pardon me, then, I know " 
 
 she said. 
 
 " Have you any objection to my going back to 
 Captain Falkenberg ? " I asked. 
 
 She stopped, and looked me full in the face. Now 
 what was the right thing here? Three times she had 
 spoken of 0vrebo. Was it with the idea that I might 
 put in a word for her if opportunity offered, when I 
 got back there ? Or was she unwilling to ask of me as 
 a favour not to go ? 
 
 "No, no, indeed I've not!" she answered. "Go 
 there, by all means." 
 
 And she turned and left me. 
 
 Neither sentimental nor calculating, as far as I 
 could see. But she might well have been both. And 
 what had I gained by my attempt at a confidential 
 tone? I should have known better than to try, 
 whether she stayed here or went elsewhere. What 
 business was it of mine ? 'Twas her affair. 
 
 You're playing and pretending, I said to myself 
 All very well to say she's literature and no more, but 
 that withered soul of yours showed good signs of life 
 when she was kind to you and began looking at you 
 with those two eyes of hers. I'm disappointed ; I'm 
 ashamed of you, and to-morrow you go ! 
 
 But I did not go. 
 
 And true it is that I went about spying and listen- 
 ing everywhere for anything I could learn of Fru
 
 224 WANDERERS 
 
 Falkenberg ; and then at times, ay, many a night, 
 I would call myself to account for that same thing, 
 and torture myself with self-contempt. From early 
 morning I thought of her : Is she awake yet ? Has she 
 slept well? Will she be going back home to-day ? And 
 at the same time all sorts of ideas came into my head. 
 I might perhaps get work at the hotel where she was 
 staying. Or I might write home for some clothes, 
 turn gentleman myself, and go and stay at that same 
 hotel. This last, of course, would at once have cut 
 the ground from under my feet and left me farther 
 removed from her than ever, but it was the one that 
 appealed to me most of all, fool that I was. I had 
 begun to make friends with the hotel porter, already, 
 merely because he lived nearer to her than I. He was 
 a big, strong fellow, who went up to the station every 
 day to meet the trains and pick up a commercial 
 traveller once a fortnight. He could give me no news ; 
 I did not ply him with questions, nor even lead him on 
 to tell me things of his own accord ; and, besides, he 
 was far from intelligent. But he lived under the same 
 roof with Fruen ah yes, that he did. And one day it 
 came about that this acquaintance of mine with the 
 hotel porter brought me a piece of valuable information 
 about Fru Falkenberg, and that from her own lips. 
 
 So they were not all equally fruitless, those days in 
 the little town. 
 
 One morning I came back with the porter from the 
 station ; he had picked up a traveller with a heap of 
 luggage, and had to take horse and cart to fetch 
 the heavy grey trunks. 
 
 I had helped him to get them loaded up at the 
 station, and now, as we pulled up at the hotel, he 
 said: "You might lend a hand getting these things 
 in ; I'll stand you a bottle of beer this evening." 
 
 So we carried in the trunks together. They were to
 
 WANDERERS 
 
 225 
 
 be taken up at once to the big luggage-room upstairs 
 the owner was waiting for them. It was an easy 
 job for the two of us, big, strong fellows both. 
 
 We had got them up all but one-that was still in the 
 cart-when the porter was called back uostair, 
 traveller was giving him instructions aboTt 
 
 a " ime 
 
 
 whether they did not notice me, or took me for 
 
 they went n with w -* 
 
 " And if w '' be 
 OU '- P" to fee, 
 
 ;| Oh, you know well enough ! she answered. 
 more c'heert".'' "' ' d<> thi " k ^" "^ ^e a little 
 
 " You wouldn't like it if I 
 me stay as , am, miserable 
 don t care for me any more." 
 
 He stopped on the stairs abruptly. R ea llv I 
 you must be mad," he said. 7 ' 
 
 " I dare say I am," she answered. 
 
 How poorly she held her own in a quarrel It v 
 always so with her. Why could she nY be C ar Jof 
 
 on the stair-rail and 
 " So you think it pleases me to have things going on
 
 226 WANDERERS 
 
 like this? I tell you it hurts me desperately has done 
 for a long time past." 
 
 "And me," she answered. "But now I'll have no 
 more of it." 
 
 "Oh, indeed! You've said that before. You said 
 it only a week ago." 
 
 "Well, I am going now." 
 
 He looked up at her. 
 
 " Going away? " 
 
 " Yes. Very soon." 
 
 But he saw that he had betrayed himself in grasping 
 so eagerly, delightedly, at the suggestion, and tried now 
 to smooth it over. 
 
 "There, there!" he said. "Be a nice sensible 
 cousin now, and don't talk about going away." 
 
 " I am going," she said, and, slipping past him, went 
 down the stairs by herself. He followed after. 
 
 Then the porter came out and we went down 
 together. The last box was smaller than the others. 
 I asked him to carry it up himself, pretending I had 
 hurt my hand. I helped him to get it on his back, 
 and went off home. Now I could go away the follow- 
 ing day. 
 
 That afternoon Grindhusen, too, was dismissed. The 
 engineer had sent for him, given him a severe talking- 
 to for doing no work and staying in town and getting 
 drunk ; in a word, his services were no longer 
 needed. 
 
 I thought to myself: It was strangely sudden, this 
 new burst of courage on the part of the engineer. He 
 was so young, he had needed someone to back him up 
 and agree to everything he said ; now, however, seeing 
 that a certain troublesome cousin was going away, he 
 had no further need of comfort there. Or was my 
 withered soul doing him an injustice ? 
 
 Grindhusen was greatly distressed. He had reckoned
 
 WANDERERS 22; 
 
 on staying- in town all the summer, as general handy- 
 man to the Inspector himself; but all hope of that was 
 gone now. The Inspector was no longer as good as a 
 father to him. And Grindhusen bore the disappoint- 
 ment badly. When they came to settle up, the In 
 spector had been going to deduct the two-Kroner pieces 
 he had given him, saying they had only been meant 
 as payment in advance. Grindhusen sat in the general 
 room at the lodging-house and told us all about it 
 adding that the Inspector was pretty mean in the 
 natter of wages after all. At this, one of the men 
 burst out laughing, and said : 
 
 'No ; did he, though? He didn't take them back 
 really ? 
 
 " Nay," said Grindhusen. He didn't dare take off 
 more than the one." 
 
 There was more laughter at this, and someone else 
 asked ~. 
 
 "No, really? Which one was it ? Did he knock off 
 the first two-Kroner or the second ? Ha, ha, ha ! That's 
 the best I've heard for a long time." 
 
 But Grindhusen did not laugh ; he grew more and 
 ore sullen and despairing. What was he to do now ? 
 Farm labourers for the season's work would have been 
 taken on everywhere by now, and here he was He 
 asked me where I was going, and when I told him he 
 begged me to put in a word for him with the Captain 
 and see if I couldn't get him taken on there for the 
 ummer Meantime, he would stay on in the town, and 
 wait till he heard from me. 
 
 But I knew there would soon be an end of Grind 
 husen's money if he stayed on in the town. The end of 
 t was, I took him along with me, as the best thing to 
 be done He had been a smart hand at paintwork 
 once had Grindhusen ; I remembered how he had done 
 up old Gunhild's cottage on the island. He could come
 
 228 WANDERERS 
 
 and help me now, for the time being ; later on, we 
 would surely find something else for him to do ; there 
 would be plenty of field-work in the course of the 
 summer where he might be useful. 
 
 The i6th July found me back at 0vreb0. I remember 
 dates more and more distinctly now, partly by reason of 
 my getting old and acquiring the intensified interest of 
 senility in such things, partly because of being a 
 labourer, and obliged to keep account of my working 
 days. But an old man may keep his dates in mind 
 and forget all about far more important things. Up to 
 now, for instance, I have forgotten to mention that the 
 letter I had from Captain Falkenberg was addressed to 
 me care of Engineer Lassen. Well and good. But 
 the point appeared significant : the Captain, then, had 
 ascertained whom I was working for. And it came 
 into my mind that possibly the Captain was also aware 
 of who else had been in the care of Engineer Lassen 
 that summer ! 
 
 The Captain was still away on duty when I arrived ; 
 he would be back in a week. As it was, Grindhusen 
 was very well received ; Nils was quite pleased to find 
 I had brought my mate along, and refused to let me 
 keep him to help with the painting, but sent him off on 
 his own responsibility to work in the turnip and potato 
 fields. There was no end of work weeding and thinning 
 out and Nils was already in the thick of the hay- 
 making. 
 
 He was the same splendid, earnest farmer as ever. 
 At the first rest, while the horses were feeding, he took 
 me out over the ground to look at the crops. Every- 
 thing was doing well ; but it had been a late spring that 
 year, and the cat's-tail was barely forming as yet, while 
 the clover had just begun to show bloom. The last rain 
 had beaten down a lot of the first-year grass, and it could
 
 WANDERERS 229 
 
 not pick up again, so Nils had put on the mowing- 
 machine. 
 
 We walked back home through waving grass and 
 corn ; there was a whispering in the winter rye and the 
 stout six-rowed barley. Nils, who had not forgotten 
 his schooling, called to mind that beautiful line of 
 Bjornson's : 
 
 " Beginning like a whisper in the corn one summer day." 
 
 "Time to get the horses out again," said Nils, 
 stepping out a little. And waving his hand once more 
 out over the fields, he said: "What a harvest we'll 
 have this year if we can only get it safely in ! " 
 
 So Grindhusen went off to work in the fields, and I 
 fell to on the painting. I started with the barn, and 
 all that was to be red ; then I did over the flagstaff 
 and the summer-house down among the lilacs with a 
 first coat of oil. The house itself I meant to leave till 
 the last. It was built in good old-fashioned country 
 style, with rich, heavy woodwork and a carved border, 
 a la grecque> above the doorway. It was yellow as it 
 was, and a new lot of yellow paint had come in to do it 
 with this time. I took upon myself, however, to send 
 the yellow back, and get another colour in exchange. 
 In my judgment the house ought to be stone-grey, 
 with doors and window-frames and verge-boards white. 
 But that would be for the Captain to decide. 
 
 But though everyone on the place was as nice as 
 could be, and the cook in authority lenient, and Ragn- 
 hild as bright-eyed as ever, we all felt it dull with the 
 master and mistress away. All save Grindhusen, honest 
 fellow, who was quite content. Decent work and good 
 food soon set him up again, and in a few days he was 
 happy and waxing fat. His one anxiety was lest the 
 Captain should turn him off when he came home. But 
 no such thing Grindhusen was allowed to stay.
 
 230 WANDERERS 
 
 IX 
 
 The Captain arrived. 
 
 I was giving the barn its second coat ; at the sound 
 of his voice I came down from the ladder. He bade 
 me welcome. 
 
 "Running away from your money like that!" he 
 said. And I fancied he looked at me with some 
 suspicion as he asked : " What did you do that for? " 
 
 I answered simply that I had no idea of presuming 
 to make him a present of my work ; the money could 
 stand over, that was all. 
 
 He brightened up at that. 
 
 "Yes, yes, of course. Well, I'm very glad you 
 came. We must have the flagstaff white, I suppose? " 
 
 I did not dare tell him at once all I wanted done in 
 white, but simply said : 
 
 " Yes. I've got hold of some white paint." 
 
 " Have you, though? That's good. You've brought 
 another man up with you, I hear ? " 
 
 " Yes. I don't know what Captain thinks . . ." 
 
 " He can stay. Nils has got him to work out in the 
 fields already. And anyhow, you all seem to do as you 
 like with me," he added jestingly. "And you've been 
 working with the lumbermen, have you? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Hardly the sort of thing for you, was it? " Then, 
 as if anxious not to seem curious about my work 
 with Engineer Lassen, he broke off abruptly and said : 
 " When are you going to start painting the house ? " 
 
 "I thought of beginning this afternoon. It'll need 
 scraping a bit here and there." 
 
 "Good. And if you find the woodwork loose any- 
 where, you can put in a nail or so at the same time. 
 Have you had a look at the fields? " 
 
 "Yes."
 
 WANDERERS 231 
 
 Everything's looking very nice. You men did good 
 work last spring. Do no harm now if we had a h 
 rain for the upper lands." 
 
 "Grindhusen and I passed lots of places on the way 
 up that needed rain more than here. It's clay bott. 
 here, and far up in the hills." 
 
 "That's true. How did you know that, by 1 
 
 way ? " . ,, i 
 
 " I looked about when I was here in the spring, 
 answered, "and I did a little digging here and there. 
 I'd an idea you'd be wanting to have water laid on t 
 the house some time or other, so I went prospecting 
 
 1 "Water laid on? Well, yes, I did think of it at 
 one time, but ... Yes, I was going to have it 
 some years back ; but I couldn't get everything done 
 at once, and then it was held up. And just now 1 
 shall want the money for other things." 
 
 A wrinkle showed between his eyes for a moment ; 
 he stood looking down in thought. 
 
 Well well, that thousand dozen battens ought 
 do it, and leave something over," he said suddenly. 
 "Water? It would have to be laid on to the 
 buildings as well. A whole system of pipes." 
 " There'd be no rock- work though, no blasting. 
 " Eh? Oh, well, we'll see. What was I going to 
 say?^ Did you have a good time down there in the 
 town? Not a big place, but you do see more people 
 there. And the railway brings visitors now and again, 
 
 no doubt." , 
 
 "Aha," I thought to myself, "he knows well enough 
 
 what visitor came to stay with Engineer Lassen this 
 
 summer!" I answered that I did not care much 
 
 the place which was perfectly true. 
 " No, really?" 
 He seemed to find something to ponder over in tl
 
 232 WANDERERS 
 
 he stared straight in front of him, whistling softly to 
 himself. Then he walked away. 
 
 The Captain was in good spirits ; he had been more 
 communicative than ever before ; he nodded to me as 
 he went off. Just as of old he was now quick and 
 determined, taking an interest in his affairs once more, 
 and sober as water. I felt cheered myself to see him 
 so. He was no wastrel ; he had had a spell of foolish- 
 ness and dissipation, but it needed only his own resolu- 
 tion to put an end to that. An oar in the water looks 
 broken to the eye, but it is whole. 
 
 It set in to rain, and I had to stop work on the 
 painting. Nils had been lucky enough to get in all 
 the hay that was cut ; we got to work now on the 
 potatoes, all hands out in the fields at once, with the 
 womenfolk from the house as well. 
 
 Meanwhile the Captain stayed indoors all alone ; it 
 was dull enough ; now and again he would touch the 
 keys of Fruen's piano. He came out once or twice to 
 where we were at work, and he carried no umbrella, 
 but let himself get drenched to the skin. 
 
 "Grand weather for the crops! " he would say ; or 
 again, " Looks like being an extra special harvest this 
 year ! " But when he went back to the house there 
 was only himself and loneliness to meet him. " We're 
 better off ourselves than he is now," said Nils. 
 
 So we worked away at the potatoes, and when 
 they were done there were the turnips. And by the 
 time we were through with them the weather began 
 to clear. Ideal weather, all that one could wish for. 
 Nils and I were as proud of it all as if we owned the 
 place. 
 
 And now the haymaking began in earnest : the maids 
 were out, spreading in the wake of the machine, and 
 Grindhusen was set to work with a scythe in the
 
 WANDERERS 233 
 
 corners and awkward parts where the machine could 
 
 not go. And I got out my stone-grey paint and set 
 
 about the house. 
 
 The Captain came up. " What colour's that you've 
 
 got there ? " he asked. 
 
 What could I say to that ? I was nervous, I know, 
 
 but my greatest fear was lest I should not be allowed 
 
 to paint it grey after all. As it was, I said : 
 
 " Oh, it's only some ... I don't know ... it 
 
 doesn't matter what we put on for the first coat. ..." 
 That saved me for the time being, at any rate. The 
 
 Captain said no more about it then. 
 
 When I had done the house all grey, and doors and 
 
 windows white, I went down to the summer-house and 
 
 did that the same. But it turned out horrible to look 
 at ; the yellow underneath showed through and made 
 it a ghastly colour. The flagstaff I took down and 
 painted a clean white. Then I put in a spell of field- 
 work with Nils and was haymaking for some days. 
 Early in August it was. 
 
 Now, when I went back to my painting again I had 
 settled in my mind to start on the house as early as 
 possible, so as to be well on the way with it before the 
 Captain was up too far, if I could manage it, to go 
 back ! I started at three in the morning ; there was a 
 heavy dew, and I had to rub the woodwork over with a 
 bit of sack. I worked away for an hour, and then had 
 coffee, then on again till eight. I knew the Captain would 
 be getting up then, so I went off to help Nils for an hour 
 and be out of the way. I had done as much as I 
 wanted, and my idea now was to give the Captain time 
 to get over the shock of my grey, in case he should 
 have got up in an irritable mood. 
 
 After breakfast I went back to work, and stood there 
 on my ladder painting away, as innocently as could be, 
 when the Captain came up.
 
 234 WANDERERS 
 
 "Are you doing it over with grey again?" he 
 called up. 
 
 " Godmorgen! Yes. I don't know if . . ." 
 
 " Now what's the meaning of all this? Come down 
 off that ladder at once ! " 
 
 I clambered down. But I was not anxious now. 
 I had thought out something to say that I fancied 
 would prove effective at the right moment unless 
 my judgment was altogether at fault. 
 
 I tried first of all to make out it didn't matter really 
 what colour we used for the second time either, but the 
 Captain cut me short here and said : 
 
 " Nonsense ! Yellow on top of that grey will look 
 like mud ; you can see that for yourself, surely." 
 
 " Well, then, we might give it two coats of yellow," 
 I suggested. 
 
 " Four coats of paint ? No, thank you ! And all that 
 white you've been wasting ! It's ever so much dearer 
 than the yellow." 
 
 This was perfectly true, and the very argument I 
 had been fearing all along. I answered now straight- 
 forwardly : 
 
 " Let me paint it grey." 
 
 " What?" 
 
 " It would look better. There's something about 
 the house . . . and with the green of the woods 
 behind . . . the style of the place is . . . ' 
 
 " Is grey, you mean? " He swung off impatiently a 
 few steps and came back again. 
 
 And then I faced him, more innocently than ever, 
 with an inspiration surely sent from above : 
 
 "Now I remember! Yes . . . I've always seen it 
 grey in my mind, ever since one day it was Fruen that 
 said so ..." 
 
 I was a watching him closely ; he gave a great start 
 and stared at me wide-eyed for a moment ; then he
 
 WANDERERS 235 
 
 took out his handkerchief and began fidgeting with it 
 at one eye as if to get out a speck or something. 
 
 " Indeed ! " he said. " Did she say so ? " 
 
 " Yes, I'm almost sure it was that. It's a long time 
 back now, but ..." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ! " he broke out abruptly, and strode 
 away. I heard him clearing his throat hard as he 
 crossed the courtyard behind. 
 
 I stood there limply for a while, feeling anything 
 but comfortable myself. I dared not go on with the 
 painting now, and risk making him angry again. I 
 went round to the back and put in an hour cutting 
 firewood. When I came round again, the Captain 
 looked out from an open window upstairs and called 
 down : 
 
 " You may as well go on with it now you've got so 
 far. I don't know what possessed you, I'm sure. But 
 get on with it now." 
 
 The window had been open before, but he slammed it 
 to and I went on with the work. 
 
 A week passed. I spent my time between painting 
 and haymaking. Grindhusen was good enough at hoe- 
 ing potatoes and using a rake here and there, but not 
 of much account when it came to loading hay. Nils 
 himself was a first-rate hand, and a glutton for work. 
 
 I gave the house a third coat, and the delicate grey, 
 picked out with white, made the place look nobler 
 altogether. One afternoon I was at work, the Captain 
 came walking up from the road. He watched me for 
 a bit, then took out his handkerchief as if the heat 
 troubled him, and said : 
 
 " Yes, better go on with it now you've got so far. 
 I must say she wasn't far wrong about the colour. All 
 nonsense though, really ! H'm ! " 
 
 I made no answer. The Captain used his handker- 
 chief again and said :
 
 236 WANDERERS 
 
 "Hot again to-day puh ! What was I going to 
 say ? . . . yes, it doesn't look so bad after all. No, she 
 was right that is, I mean, you were right about the 
 colour. I was looking at it from down there just now, 
 and it makes quite a handsome place. And anyhow, 
 it's too late to alter it now." 
 
 " I thought so too," I said. " It suits the house." 
 
 "Yes, yes, it suits the house, as it were. And what 
 was it she said about the woods behind my wife, I 
 mean? The background, or something?" 
 
 " It's a long time ago now, but I'm almost 
 sure ..." 
 
 " Yes, yes, never mind. I must say I never thought 
 it would turn out like that turn out so well. Will 
 you have enough white, though, to finish ? " 
 
 " Well . . . yes, I sent back the yellow and got 
 some white instead." 
 
 The Captain smiled, shook his head, and walked 
 away. So I had been right after all ! 
 
 Haymaking took up all my time now till it was 
 done, but Nils lent me a hand in return, painting at 
 the summer-house in the evening. Even Grindhusen 
 joined in and took a brush. He wasn't much of a 
 painter, he said, but he reckoned he could be trusted 
 to paint a bit of a wall. Grindhusen was picking up 
 fast. 
 
 At last the buildings were finished ; hardly recognis- 
 able, they were, in their new finery. And when we'd 
 cleaned up a bit in the shrubbery and the little park 
 this was our own idea the whole place looked 
 different altogether. And the Captain thanked us 
 specially for what we'd done. 
 
 We started on the rye then, and at the same time 
 the autumn rain set in ; but we worked away all we 
 knew, and there came a spell of sunshine in between 
 whiles. There were big fields of thick, heavy rye,
 
 WANDERERS 237 
 
 and big fields again of oats and barley, not yet ripe. 
 It was a rich landscape to work in. The clover was 
 seeding, but the turnips were somewhat behindhand. 
 A good soaking would put them right, said Nils. 
 
 The Captain sent me up to the post from time to 
 time ; once he gave me a letter for his wife. A whole 
 bundle of letters there were, to different people, and 
 hers in the middle. It was addressed care of her 
 mother in Kristianssand. When I came back in the 
 evening and took in the incoming post, the Captain's 
 first words were : " You posted the letters all right ? " 
 
 " Yes," I said. 
 
 Time went on. On wet days, when there was little 
 we could do out of doors, the Captain wanted me to 
 paint a bit here and there about the house inside. He 
 showed me some fine enamels he had got in, and said : 
 
 " Now here's the staircase to begin with. I want 
 that white, and I've ordered a dark red stair-carpet 
 to put down. Then there'll be doors and windows. 
 But I want all this done as soon as possible, really ; 
 it's been left too long as it is." 
 
 I quite agreed that this was a good idea of the 
 Captain's. He had lived carelessly enough for years 
 past now, never troubling about the look of his house ; 
 now he had begun to take an interest in it again ; it 
 was a sort of reawakening. He took me over the 
 place, upstairs and down, and showed me what was 
 to be done. I noticed the pictures and sculpture in 
 the rooms ; there was a big marble lion, and paintings 
 by Askevold and the famous Dahl. Heirlooms, I 
 supposed they would be. Fruen's room upstairs looked 
 just as if she were at home, with all sorts of little 
 trifles neatly in their places, and clothes hanging still on 
 the pegs. It was a fine old house, with moulded ceil- 
 ings, and some of the walls done in costly style, but 
 the paintwork everywhere was faded or flaking off.
 
 238 WANDERERS 
 
 The staircase was broad and easy, with seats, and a 
 mahogany handrail. 
 
 I was painting indoors one day when the Captain 
 came in. 
 
 " It's harvest-time, I know, but this indoor work's 
 important too. My wife will be back soon. I don't 
 know what we're to do, really ! I'd like to have the 
 place thoroughly cleaned up." 
 
 So that letter was asking her to come back ! I thought 
 to myself. But then, again, it was some days since he 
 had written, and I had been to the post several times 
 myself, after, but no answer had come. I knew 
 Fruen's writing. I had seen it six years before. But 
 the Captain thought perhaps that he had only to say 
 "Come," and she would obey. Well, well, he might 
 be right ; she was taking a little time to get ready, 
 that was all. . . . How was I to know? 
 
 The painting had grown so important now, that the 
 Captain went up himself to the clearing and got Lars to 
 come down and help with the field-work in my place. 
 Nils was by no means pleased with the exchange, for 
 Lars was not over willing under orders on the place 
 where he had been in charge himself in days gone by. 
 
 But there was no such need of hurry about the 
 painting, as it turned out. The Captain sent the lad 
 up twice to the post, but I watched for him on the 
 way back both times, and found he had no letter from 
 Fruen. Perhaps she was not coming after all ! Ay, it 
 might be as bad as that. Or she felt herself in a false 
 position, and was too proud to say yes because her 
 husband called. It might be that. 
 
 But the paint was on and had time to dry ; the red 
 stair-carpet came and was laid down with brass rods ; 
 the staircase looked wonderfully fine ; wonderfully fine, 
 too, were the doors and windows in the rooms upstairs. 
 But Fruen did not come no.
 
 WANDERERS 239 
 
 We got through with the rye, and set to work in 
 good time on the barley ; but Fruen did not come. 
 The Captain went out and gazed down the road, 
 whistling to himself; he was looking thinner now. 
 Often and often he would come out to where we were 
 at work, and keep with us, looking on all the time 
 without a word. But if Nils happened to ask him 
 anything, he did not start as if his thoughts had been 
 elsewhere, but was quick and ready as could be. 
 did not seem dejected, and as for looking thin, that 
 was perhaps because he had got Nils to cut his hair. 
 Then I was sent up to the post again, and this t 
 there was a letter. Fruen's hand, and postmarked 
 Kristianssand. I hurried back, laid the letter in among 
 the rest of the post, and handed the whole bundle to 
 the Captain outside the house. He took it with a 
 careless word of thanks, showing no eagerness to see 
 what there was ; he was used to being disappointed. 
 
 "Corn coming in everywhere, I suppose? " he asked 
 casually, glancing at the letters one ^r a , nO T ther ' 
 - What was the road like ? All right ? " While I was 
 telling him, he came upon Fruen's letter, and at once, 
 packing up the whole bundle together, he turned to me 
 with a sudden intensified interest in other people's 
 crops and the state of the roads. Keeping himself well 
 in hand ; he was not going to show feeling openly. 
 He nodded as he walked off, and said "Thank you 
 
 once more. 
 
 Next day the Captain came out and washed and 
 greased the carriage himself. But it was two days 
 more before he used it. We were sitting at supper 
 one evening when the Captain came into the kitchen 
 and said he wanted someone to drive him to the 
 station to-morrow. He could have driven himself, but 
 he was going to fetch his wife, who was coming home 
 from abroad, and he would have to take the landau in
 
 240 WANDERERS 
 
 case it rained. Nils decided, then, that Grindhusen had 
 better drive, he being" the one who could best be spared. 
 The rest of us went on with our field-work while 
 they were away. There was plenty to do ; besides the 
 rye and barley not yet in, there were still potatoes to 
 hoe and turnips to see to. But Ragnhild and the 
 dairymaid both lent a hand ; all youth and energy 
 they were. 
 
 It might have been pleasant enough to work side by 
 side with my old mate Lars Falkenberg once more, 
 but he and Nils could not get on together, and instead 
 of cheerful comradeship, a gloomy silence hung over 
 the fields. Lars seemed to have got over his late 
 ill-will towards me in some degree, but he was short 
 and sullen with us all on account of Nils. 
 
 At last Nils decided that Lars should take the pair of 
 chestnuts and get to work on the autumn ploughing. 
 Lars was offended, and said crossly : No. He'd never 
 heard of doing things that way before, he said, starting 
 to plough your land before you'd got the harvest off it. 
 "That may be," said Nils, " but I'll find you land that 
 has been reaped enough to keep you going." 
 
 There were more words over that. Lars found 
 everything all wrong somehow at 0vreb0. In the old 
 days he used to do his work and sing songs after for 
 the company at the house ; now, it was all a mess and 
 a muddle, and no sense in any way of doing things. 
 Ploughing, indeed ! Not if he knew it. 
 
 "You don't know what you're talking about," said 
 Nils. "Nowadays you'll see folk ploughing between 
 the corn-poles and the hay-frames." 
 
 " I've not seen it yet," said Lars. " But it seems 
 you've seen a lot. Of all the silly goats ..." 
 
 But the end of it was that Lars gave way, Nils 
 being head man there, and went on ploughing till 
 the Captain came home.
 
 WANDERERS 241 
 
 It crossed my mind that I had left some washing 
 behind with Emma when I went away, before. But I 
 judged it best not to go up to the clearing after it now, 
 while Lars was in his present mood. 
 
 X 
 
 The Captain and his wife came next day. Nils and 
 I had talked over whether to hoist the flag ; I dared 
 not myself, but Nils was less cautious, and said we 
 must. So there it was, flapping broad and free from 
 
 its white staff. 
 
 I was close at hand when the carriage drove up and 
 they got out. Fruen walked out far across the court- 
 yard, looked at the house, and clapped her hands. I 
 heard her, too, loud in wonder as she entered the hall 
 -at sight of the stairs, no doubt, and the new red 
 
 carpet. 
 
 Grindhusen had no sooner got the horses in than he 
 came up to me, all agape with astonishment over some- 
 thing, and drew me aside to talk. 
 
 " There must be something wrong," he said. That's 
 not Fru Falkenberg, surely ? Is she married to him- 
 the Captain, I mean?" 
 
 "Why, yes, Grindhusen, the Captain's wife is 
 married to the Captain. What makes you ask ? " 
 
 But it's that cousin girl ! I'll stake my life on it if 
 it's not the very same one. The Inspector's cousin that 
 
 was there." 
 
 Not a bit of it, Grindhusen. But it might be her 
 
 sister." 
 
 "But I'll stake my life on it. I saw her with him 
 myself I don't know how many times." 
 
 " Well, well, she may be his cousin as far as that 
 goes, but what's it to do with us ? " 
 5 " I saw it the moment she got out of the tram. And 
 16
 
 242 WANDERERS 
 
 she looked at me, too, and gave a start. I could see 
 her breathing" quickly after. Don't come telling 1 me. 
 . . . But I can't make out. ... Is she from here?" 
 
 "Was Fruen pleased, or did she look unhappy ?" I 
 asked. 
 
 " Nay, I don't know. Yes, I think she was." 
 Grindhusen shook his head, still marvelling how this 
 could be the Captain's wife. "You must have seen 
 her with the Inspector yourself," he said. " Didn't you 
 recognise her again ? " 
 
 " Was she pleased, did you say? " 
 
 " Pleased? Why, yes, I suppose so. I don't know. 
 They talked such a lot of queer stuff the pair of them, 
 driving home began in the station, the minute she 
 got out. There was a whole lot I couldn't make out 
 at all. ' I don't know what to say,' said she, ' but I 
 beg you so earnestly to forgive me for it all.' 'And so 
 do I,' says he. Now did you ever hear such a thing? 
 And they were both of them crying, I believe, in the 
 carriage after. ' I've had the place painted and done 
 up a bit,' said the Captain. 'Have you?' says she. 
 And then he went on talking about all her things, and 
 how they were still there and never been touched. I 
 don't know what things he meant, but he thought she'd 
 find everything still in its place, he said. Did you ever 
 hear the like? 'All your things,' he said. And then 
 he went on about somebody Elisabeth, and said he never 
 gave her a thought, and never had been, I think he 
 said. And she cried like anything at that, and was all 
 upset. But she didn't say a word about being abroad, 
 as the Captain said. No, I'll stake my life she'd come 
 from the Inspector." 
 
 I began to fear I had made a grave mistake in 
 bringing Grindhusen to 0vreb0. It was done now, but 
 I wished it undone. And I told Grindhusen himself 
 as much, and that pretty plainly.
 
 WANDERERS 24 3 
 
 "Fruen here's the mistress of the place, and good 
 
 and kind as could be to everyone, and the Captain as 
 
 well, remember that. But you'll find yourself whipped 
 
 t of here, and at once, if you go gossiping and 
 
 Jllmg tales. Take my advice and be careful. You've 
 
 got a good job here, with good pay and decent food. 
 
 Junk of that, and keep quiet while you're here." 
 
 ' Yes, yes, you're right," said Grindhusen meekly 
 enough. -I don't say a word; only, that she's the 
 very image of that cousin down there. And did I ever 
 say more than that ? I don't know what you've got to 
 make such a fuss about, and as for that, maybe she's a 
 bit fairer than the cousin. I won't swear it's the same 
 sort of hair. And I never said it was. But if you 
 want to know what I thought, I'll tell you straight out 
 I was thinking she was too good to be that cousin girl 
 That was my very thought. 'T would be a shame for 
 her to be cousin to a fellow like that, and I can't think 
 how anybody ever could. I'm not thinking about the 
 money now ; you know as well as I do I'm not the man 
 to make a fuss over losing a two-Kroner piece, no more 
 an you yourself, but it was a mean thing to do, all the 
 same, giving me the money one day and taking it back 
 the next. Ay, that it was. I say no more than that. 
 I don't know what's the matter with you lately 
 flying out the least word a man says. And what have 
 [ said, anyway? A mean lot, that he was; paid me 
 two Kroner a day and find my own food, and always 
 niggling and haggling over every little thing. I've had 
 enough of your talk anyhow, but I'll tell you what was 
 my very thought, if you want to know. ..." 
 
 But all his flow of talk did not avail to hide the fact 
 that he had recognised Fruen at once, and was still 
 convinced that he was right. 
 
 All things in order now, the Captain and Fruen at
 
 244 WANDERERS 
 
 home, bright days and a rich harvest. What more 
 could any wish for ? 
 
 Fruen greets me with a kindly glance, and says : 
 
 "The place looks different altogether after the way 
 you've painted it so nicely. The Captain's ever so 
 pleased." 
 
 She seemed calmer now than when I had seen her 
 last, on the stairs of the hotel in the town. She did 
 not start and breathe quickly at sight of me as she had 
 with Grindhusen, and that could only mean she was not 
 displeased at seeing me again ! So I thought to my- 
 self, and was glad to think so. But why had she not 
 left off that unsteady glance, that flutter of the eyes, 
 she had fallen into of late ? If I were the Captain, now, 
 I would speak to her about it. And her complexion, 
 too, was not what it had been. There were some 
 curious little spots about the temples. But what 
 matter? She was no less pretty for that. 
 
 "I'm afraid, though," she went on, "it wasn't 
 my idea at all with the lovely grey for the house. 
 You must have made a mistake in thinking I said 
 so." 
 
 " Well, then, I can't make it out. But, anyhow, it's 
 no matter ; the Captain himself decided to have it." 
 
 "The staircase is simply splendid, and so are the 
 rooms upstairs. It's twice as bright as before. . . ." 
 
 Twas Fruen herself was trying to be twice as bright 
 and twice as good as before. I knew that well enough. 
 And she fancied she owed me these little marks of 
 kindliness, for something or other. Well and good, 
 but now it was enough. Best let it be. 
 
 Autumn drawing on, the scent of the jasmine all 
 importunate down in the shrubbery, and red and yellow 
 showing up long since on the wooded hills. Not a 
 soul in the place but is glad to have Fruen at home 
 again ; the flag, too, does its part. 'Tis like a Sunday ;
 
 WANDERERS 245 
 
 the maids have put clean aprons on, fresh from the 
 
 ironing. 
 
 In the evening I went down by the little stone steps 
 to the shrubbery and sat there awhile. The jasmines 
 were pouring out waves of perfume after the heat ot 
 the day. After awhile Nils came down, looking for 
 
 me. 
 
 " No visitors here now," says Nils. " And no hjgh 
 goings-on at nights. Have you heard anything of that 
 sort at night now, since the Captain first came back?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " And that's full ten weeks ago now. What d you 
 say if I tore off this thing now? " And he pointed to 
 his temperance badge. " Captain's given up drinking, 
 here's Fruen home again, and no call to be unfriendly 
 anyway to either of them." 
 
 He handed me a knife, and I cut the badge away. 
 
 We talked for a bit about the farm- work Nils 
 thought of nothing else. "We'll have most of the 
 corn under shelter by to-morrow night," he says. 
 "And thank goodness for that! Then we'll sow the 
 winter rye. Queer thing, isn't it? Here's Lars went 
 on year after year sowing by machine, and thought it 
 good enough. Not if I know it ! We'll sow ours by 
 hand." 
 
 "But why?" 
 
 " On land like ours ! Now just take the man over 
 there, for instance ; he sowed by machine three weeks 
 ago, and some's come up and some not. No. The 
 machine goes too deep in the soil." 
 
 " H'm ! Don't the jasmines smell fine to-night ? " 
 " Yes. There's been a big difference with the barley 
 and oats these last few days. Getting on time for bed, 
 though, now!" 
 
 He got up, but I did not move. " Looks like being 
 fine again to-morrow," says Nils, glancing at the sky.
 
 246 WANDERERS 
 
 And then he went on about the grass in the garden ; 
 worth cutting, he said it was. 
 
 "You going to stay down here long?" he asked 
 suddenly. 
 
 "Yes, for a bit; why not? Oh, well, perhaps I'd 
 better go up too." 
 
 Nils walked off a few paces, then came back again. 
 
 " Better not stay here any longer," he said. " Come 
 along up here with me." 
 
 "Think so?" I said, and rose at once. Evidently 
 Nils had something in his mind, and had come down 
 here on purpose to fetch me. 
 
 Had he found me out ? But what was there to find 
 out? 
 
 Did I know myself what I had gone down to the 
 shrubbery for ? I remember now that I lay face down- 
 wards, chewing a stalk of grass. There was light in 
 a certain upstairs window of the house. I was looking 
 at that. And that was all. 
 
 " Not being inquisitive now, but what's the matter ? " 
 I asked. 
 
 "Nothing," said Nils. "The girls said you were 
 down here, so I just came along. Why, what else ? " 
 
 So the maids had found me out, I thought to myself, 
 and was ill-pleased at the thought. Ragnhild it must 
 be, a devil of a girl, sharp as a needle ; she must have 
 said a lot more than Nils was willing to confess. And 
 what if Fruen herself had seen me from the window ! 
 
 I resolved now to be cold and indifferent as ice hence- 
 forward all the days of my life. 
 
 Ragnhild is properly in clover. The thick stair 
 carpet muffles every step ; she can run upstairs when- 
 ever she pleases and slip down again in a moment 
 without a sound. 
 
 "I can't make it out about Fruen," says Ragnhild.
 
 WANDERERS 247 
 
 "Here she's come back, and ought to be happy and 
 good-tempered as could be, and instead she's all tears 
 and frowning. I heard the Captain telling her to-day : 
 ' Now do be a little reasonable, Lovise,' he said. < I'm 
 sorry, I won't do it any more,' says Fruen ; and then 
 she cried because she'd been unreasonable. But that 
 about never doing it any more she's said that now every 
 day since she came back, but she's done it again, all the 
 same. Poor dear, she'd a toothache to-day ; she was 
 simply crying out with the pain. . . ." 
 
 "Go and get on with the potatoes, Ragnhild," 
 said Nils quickly "We've no time for gossiping 
 
 now. 
 
 We'd all of us our field-work now ; there was much 
 to be done. Nils was afraid the corn would spoil if he 
 left it too long at the poles ; better to get it in as it 
 was. Well and good ; but that meant threshing the 
 worst of it at once, and spreading the grain over the 
 floor of every shed and outhouse. Even in our own 
 big living-room there was a large layer of corn drying 
 on the floor. Any more irons in the fire ? Ay, indeed, 
 and all the while hot and waiting. Bad weather has 
 set in, and all the work ought to be done at once. 
 When we've finished threshing, there's the fresh straw 
 to be cut up and salted down in bins to keep it from 
 rotting. That all ? Not by a long way : irons enough 
 still glowing hot. Grindhusen and the maids are 
 pulling potatoes. Nils snatches the precious time after 
 a couple of dry days to sow a patch of rye and send 
 the lad over it with the harrow. Lars Falkenberg is 
 still ploughing ; he has given way altogether and 
 turned out a fine ploughman since the Captain and 
 Fruen came back. When the corn-land's too soft he 
 ploughs the meadows ; then, when sun and wind 
 have dried things a bit, he goes on to the corn-land 
 again.
 
 248 WANDERERS 
 
 The work goes on steadily and well ; in the afternoon 
 the Captain himself comes out to lend a hand. The 
 last load of corn is being" brought in. 
 
 Captain Falkenberg is no child at the work, big and 
 strong he is, and with the right knack of it. See him 
 loading up oats from the drying-frames: his second load 
 now. 
 
 Just then Fruen comes along down the road, and 
 crosses over to where we are at work. Her eyes are 
 bright. She seems pleased to watch her husband 
 loading up corn. 
 
 " Signe Arbejdet! " l she says. 
 
 " Thanks," says the Captain. 
 
 "That's what we used to say in Nordland." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " That's what we used to say in Nordland " 
 
 "Oh yes." 
 
 The Captain is busy with his work, and in the rustle 
 of the straw he does not always hear what she says, 
 but has to look up and ask again, and this annoys them 
 both. 
 
 "Are the oats ripe? " she asks. 
 
 " Yes, thank goodness ! " 
 
 " But not dry, I suppose? " 
 
 "Eh? I can't hear what you say." 
 
 " Oh, I didn't say anything." 
 
 A long, uncomfortable silence after that. The Cap- 
 tain tries once or twice with a good-humoured word, 
 but gets no answer. 
 
 "So you're out on a round of inspection," he says 
 jestingly. " Have you seen how the potatoes are 
 getting on? " 
 
 " No," she answers. " But I'll go over there, by all 
 means, if you can't bear the sight of me here." 
 
 It was too dreadful to hear them going on like this 
 1 " A blessing on the work."
 
 WANDERERS 249 
 
 I must have frowned unconsciously shown some such 
 feeling. Then, suddenly remembering that for certain 
 reasons I was to be cold as ice, I frowned the 
 more. 
 
 Fruen looked straight at me and said : 
 
 " What are you scowling at ? " 
 
 " Scowling, eh ? " says the Captain, joining in, with a 
 forced laugh. 
 
 Fruen takes him up on the instant. 
 
 " Ah ! you managed to hear that time ! " 
 
 " Really, Lovise . . ." 
 
 Fruen's eyes dimmed suddenly ; she stood a moment, 
 then ran, stooping forward, round behind the frames, 
 and sobbed. 
 
 The Captain went over to her. " What is it, Lovise, 
 tell me?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing, nothing ! Go away." 
 She was sick ; we could hear it. And moaning and 
 saying : " Heaven help me ! " 
 
 " My wife's not very well just now," says the Captain 
 to me. " We can't make out what it is." 
 
 'There's sickness in the neighbourhood," I sug- 
 gested, for something to say. " Sort of autumn fever. 
 I heard about it up at the post office." 
 
 " Is there, though ? Why, there you are, Lovise," he 
 calls out. " There's some sort of fever about, it seems 
 That's all it is." 
 
 Fruen made no answer. 
 
 We went on loading up, and Fruen moved farther 
 and farther away as we came up. At last the frames 
 were cleared, and she stood there guiltily, very pale 
 after her trouble. 
 
 "Shall I see you back to the house?" asked the 
 Captain. 
 
 "No, thank you, I'd rather not," she answered, 
 walking away.
 
 250 WANDERERS 
 
 The Captain stayed out and worked with us till 
 evening. 
 
 So here was everything- gone wrong again. Oh, but 
 it was hard for them both ! 
 
 And it was not just a little matter that could be got 
 over by a little give and take on either side, as folk 
 say ; no, it was a thing insuperable, a trouble rooted 
 deep. And now it had come to mutiny, no less : Fruen 
 had taken to locking her door at night. Ragnhild had 
 heard the Captain, highly offended, talking to her 
 through the wall. 
 
 But that evening the Captain had demanded to speak 
 with her in her room before she went to bed. Fruen 
 agreed, and there was a further scene. Each was will- 
 ing and anxious, no doubt, to set matters right, but it 
 was hopeless now ; it was too late. We sat in the 
 kitchen, Nils and I, listening to Ragnhild's story. I 
 had never seen Nils look so miserable before. 
 
 "If things go wrong again now, it's all over," he 
 said. " I thought to myself last summer that perhaps 
 a good, sound thrashing would do her good. But that 
 was just foolishness, I can see now. Did she talk about 
 running away again ? " 
 
 "She said something about it," answered Ragnhild. 
 And then she went on something like this : "It began 
 with the Captain asking if she didn't think it was this 
 local sickness she had got. Fruen answered it could 
 hardly be any local sickness that had turned her against 
 him so. 'Turned you against me?' 'Yes. Oh, I 
 could scream sometimes. At table, for instance, the 
 way you eat and eat. . . .' ' Do I ? ' says the Captain. 
 ' Well, I can't see there's anything very wrong in that ; 
 it's just natural. There's no rule for how much one 
 ought to eat at a meal.' ' But to have to sit and look 
 at you it makes me sick. It's that that makes me ill.'
 
 WANDERERS 251 
 
 ' Well, anyhow, you can't say I drink too much now,' 
 said he. < So it's better than it was.' ' No, indeed, it's 
 worse ! ' Then says the Captain : < Well, really, I do 
 think you might make allowances for me a little, after 
 I've I mean, considering what you did yourself this 
 summer.' ' Yes, you're right,' says Fruen, beginning 
 to cry. ' If you knew how it hurts and plagues me 
 night and day, thinking of that. . . . But I've never 
 said a word.' ' No, I know,' says she, crying all the 
 more. < And I asked you myself to come back,' he 
 said. But at that she seemed to think he was taking 
 too much credit to himself; she stopped crying, and 
 answered, with a toss of her head : < Yes, and it would 
 have been better if you'd never asked me back, if it 
 was only to go on like this.' 'Like what?' says he. 
 ' You've your own way in everything now. The same 
 as before, only you don't care for anything at all. You 
 never touch the piano, even ; only go about cross and 
 irritable all the time ; there's no pleasing you with 
 anything. And you shut your door at night and lock 
 me out. Well and good ; lock me out if you like ! ' 
 ' It's you that are hard to please, if you ask me,' she 
 said. There's never a night and never a morning but 
 I'm worried out of my life lest you shall be thinking of 
 this summer. You've never said a word about it, 
 you say. Oh, don't you, though ! I'm never left long 
 in peace without you throwing it in my teeth. I 
 happened to say "Hugo" one day, by a slip of the 
 tongue, and what did you do ? You might have been 
 nice and comforted me to help me over it, but you only 
 scowled and said you were not Hugo. No. I knew 
 well enough, and I was ever so sorry to have said it.' 
 ' That's just the point,' said the Captain. ' Were you 
 really sorry ? ' Yes, indeed,' said Fruen ; ' it hurt me 
 ever so.' 'Well, I shouldn't have thought it; you 
 don't seem very upset. about it.' Ah, but what about
 
 252 WANDERERS 
 
 you ? Haven't you anything to be sorry for ? ' ' You've 
 got photos of Hugo on your piano still ; I haven't seen 
 you move them away yet, though I've shown you not 
 once but fifty times I wished you to yes, and begged 
 you to do it.' ' Oh, what a fuss you make about those 
 photos ! ' said she. ' Oh, don't make any mistake ! 
 I'm not asking you now. If you went and shifted 
 them now, it would make no difference. I've begged 
 and prayed of you fifty times before. Only, I think it 
 would have been a little more decent if you'd burned 
 them the day you came home. But, instead of that, 
 you've books here lying about in your room with his 
 name in. And there's a handkerchief with his initials 
 on, I see.' ' Oh, it's all your jealousy,' answered 
 Fruen. ' I can't see what difference it makes. I can't 
 kill him, as you'd like me to, and Papa and Mama say 
 the same. After all, I've lived with him and been 
 married to him.' ' Married to him ! ' ' Yes, that's 
 what I say. It isn't everyone that looks at Hugo and 
 me the way you do.' The Captain sat awhile, shaking 
 his head. 'And it's all your own fault, really,' Fruen 
 went on, ' the way you drove off with Elisabeth that 
 time, though I came and asked you not to go. It was 
 then it happened. And we'd been drinking that even- 
 ing. I didn't quite know what I was doing.' Still, the 
 Captain said nothing for a while ; then at last he said : 
 'Yes, I ought not to have gone off like that.' 'No, 
 but you did,' said Fruen, and started crying again. 
 ' You wouldn't hear a word. And you're always throw- 
 ing it in my teeth about Hugo, but you never think of 
 what you've done yourself.' 'There's just this differ- 
 ence,' says the Captain, 'that I've never lived with the 
 lady you mention, never been married to her, as you 
 call it.' Fruen gave a little scornful laugh. ' Never ! ' 
 said the Captain, striking the table with his hand. 
 Fruen gave a start, and sat staring at him. 'Then
 
 WANDERERS 253 
 
 I don't understand why you were always running after 
 her and sitting- out in the summer-house and lurking 
 in corners,' said she. ' It was you that sat out in the 
 summer-house,' he answered. ' Oh yes, it's always me,' 
 said she. ' Never you by any chance ! ' 'As for my 
 running after Elisabeth,' said the Captain, 'it was solely 
 and simply in the hopes of getting you back. You'd 
 drifted away from me, and I wanted you.' Fruen sat 
 thinking over that for a minute, then she sprang up and 
 threw her arms around him and said : Oh, then you 
 cared for me all the time ! And I thought it was all 
 over. You'd drifted away from me, too ; it was years 
 since. And it all seemed so hopeless. I never thought 
 I never knew. . . . And then it was me you cared 
 for all the time ! Oh, my dear, then it's all come right 
 again.' ' Sit down,' said he. ' You seem to forget that 
 something else has happened since. ' ' Something else ? ' 
 ' There you are, you've forgotten all about it. May I 
 ask you, are you sorry enough for what's happened 
 since ? ' At that Fruen turned hard again and said : 
 ' Oh, you mean about Hugo ? That's done and can't 
 be altered.' 'That doesn't answer the question.' 'If 
 I'm sorry enough? What about you; are you so 
 innocent yourself?' At this the Captain got up and 
 began walking up and down. 'The trouble is that 
 we've no children,' said Fruen. ' I haven't a daughter 
 that I could teach and bring up to be better than I 
 am.' 'I've thought of that,' said the Captain; 'per- 
 haps you're right.' Then he turned straight towards 
 her and said : ' It's a nasty crash that's come over us, 
 Lovise like a landslide. But don't you think now we 
 might set to work and shift away all the wreckage 
 that's been burying us for years, and get clear and 
 breathe again ? You might have a daughter yet ! ' 
 At that Fruen got up and made as if to say something, 
 but couldn't. * Yes,' was all she said, and ' Yes,' she
 
 254 WANDERERS 
 
 said again. ' You're tired and nervous, I know,' he 
 said. ' But think a little over what I've said. Another 
 time.' 'Good-night,' said she." 
 
 XI 
 
 The Captain spoke to Nils about the timber ; he 
 thought of disposing of the whole lot, or selling it 
 standing. Nils took this to mean that he didn't like 
 the idea of having more new folk about the place. "It 
 looks like things are as bad as ever with him and 
 Fruen," said Nils. 
 
 We are getting in the potatoes now, and now that 
 we are thus far there is less hurry and anxiety about 
 the work. But there is still much to be done. The 
 ploughing is behindhand, and Lars Falkenberg and I 
 are both at it, field and meadow land. 
 
 Nils, queer creature that he was, began to find 
 things intolerable at Ovrebo again, and talked of 
 throwing up his place and going off altogether. But 
 he couldn't bear the disgrace of leaving his service 
 like that. Nils had his own clear notions of honour, 
 handed down through many generations. A young 
 man from a big farm could not behave like a lad from 
 a cottar's holding. And then he hadn't been here long 
 enough yet ; 0vreb0 had been sadly ill-managed before 
 he came : it would take some years to bring it round 
 again. It was only this year, when he'd had more 
 help with the work, that he'd been able to do anything 
 properly. But from now onward he might begin to 
 look for some result of his work ; look at this year's 
 harvest, the fine heavy grain ! The Captain, too, had 
 looked at the crops with wonder and thankfulness 
 the first time for many years. There would be plenty 
 to sell. 
 
 All things considered, then, it was senseless for Nils
 
 WANDERERS 255 
 
 to think of leaving 0vreb0. But he must go home for 
 a couple of days to his people they lived a little way 
 north of us. So he gave himself two days' leave as 
 soon as the potatoes were all out of the ground. No 
 doubt he'd good reason for going perhaps to see his 
 sweetheart, we thought and when he came back he 
 was bright and full of energy as ever, and took up 
 work again at once. 
 
 We were sitting at dinner in the kitchen one day 
 when out comes Fruen from the front door of the 
 house, and goes tearing down the road, all wild and 
 excited. Then the Captain came out, calling after 
 her: Lovise, what is it, Lovise? Where are you 
 going?" But Fruen only called back: "Leave me 
 alone ! " 
 
 We looked at one another. Ragnhild rose from the 
 table ; she must go after her mistress, she said. 
 
 "That's right," said Nils, calm as ever. " But go 
 indoors first and see if she's moved those photographs." 
 
 " They re still there," said Ragnhild as she went out. 
 
 Outside, we heard the Captain telling her to go and 
 look after her mistress. 
 
 There was no one but took thought for Fruen in her 
 distress. 
 
 We went out to the fields again. Said Nils to me : 
 
 "She ought to take away those photos; it's not 
 right of her to leave them there. I don't know what 
 she can be thinking of to do it." 
 
 What do you know about it ? I thought to myself. 
 3h, I was so clever with my knowledge of the world,' 
 and all I'd learned on my wanderings, I thought I 
 would try him now ; perhaps he was only showing off 
 
 I can't understand why the Captain hasn't taken 
 and burnt them long ago," said I. 
 
 "No, that's all wrong," said Nils. "I wouldn't 
 have done that either."
 
 256 WANDERERS 
 
 "Oh, indeed !" 
 
 " It wouldn't be for me to do it, but for her." 
 
 We walked on a little. And then Nils said a thing 
 that showed his sound and right instinct. 
 
 "Poor lady!" he said. "She's not got over that 
 slip of hers this summer ; it's troubling her still, 
 from all I can see, there's some people pick up again 
 all right after a fall, and go on through life with no 
 more than the mark of a bruise. But there's some 
 that never get over it." 
 
 " Fruen seems to be taking it easy enough," said I, 
 still trying him. 
 
 "How can we tell? She's been unlike herself, 
 to my mind, ever since she's been back," he answered. 
 " She's got to live, of course, but she's lost all 
 harmony, perhaps. I don't know much about it, but 
 harmony, that's what I mean. Oh yes, she can eat 
 and laugh and sleep, no doubt, but ... I followed 
 one such to the grave, but now . . ." 
 
 And at that I was no longer cold and wise, but 
 foolish and ashamed, and only said : 
 
 " So it was that ? She died, then ?" 
 
 " Yes. She wished it so," said Nils. And then 
 suddenly : " Well, you and Lars get on with the 
 ploughing. We ought soon to be through with things 
 now." 
 
 And we went each our separate way. 
 
 I thought to myself: a sister of his, perhaps, that 
 had gone wrong, and he'd been home and followed 
 her to the grave. Herregud! there are some that 
 never get over it ; it shakes them to their founda- 
 tions ; a revolution. All depends on whether 
 they're coarse enough. Only the mark of a bruise, 
 said Nils. A sudden thought came to me, and 1 
 stopped : perhaps it was not his sister, but his sweet- 
 heart.
 
 WANDERERS 257 
 
 Some association of ideas led me to think of my 
 washing. I decided to send the lad up for it. 
 
 It was evening. 
 
 Ragnhild came to me and begged me to keep awake 
 again ; there was dreadful trouble up at the house. 
 Ragnhild herself was greatly upset, and dared not sit 
 anywhere now in the half-dark but upon my knees. 
 It was always so with her ; emotion made her frightened 
 and tender frightened and tender, yes. 
 
 "But can you be away like this? Is there anyone 
 in your place in the kitchen ? " I asked. 
 
 "Yes. Cook's going to listen for the bell. You 
 know, I side with the Captain," she declared. I've 
 sided with him all along." 
 
 " Oh, that's only because he's a man." 
 " No, it's not." 
 
 ' You'd much better side with Fruen." 
 ' You only say that because she's a woman," 
 answered Ragnhild in her turn. But you don't know 
 all I do. Fruen's so unreasonable. We didn't care 
 a bit about her, she said, and left her all to herself, 
 whatever might happen. Did you ever hear such a 
 thing, when I'd just gone after her. And then there's 
 another dreadful thing. ..." 
 
 " I don't want to hear any more," I said. 
 " But I haven't been listening outside what are you 
 thinking of? I was there in the same room, and 
 heard them." 
 
 "Did you? Well, well, stay here till you've 
 calmed down a little ; then we'll go and find 
 Nils." 
 
 And so frightened and tender was Ragnhild that she 
 threw her arms round me because I was kind to her. 
 A strange girl ! 
 
 Then we went down^to Nils. 
 17 
 
 a
 
 258 WANDERERS 
 
 " Ragnhild thinks that somebody ought to keep 
 awake for a bit," I said. 
 
 "Yes," said Ragnhild. "Oh, it's so dreadful 
 worse than ever it's been ! Heaven knows what the 
 Captain '11 do ! Perhaps he won't go to bed at all. Oh, 
 she's fond of him and he's fond of her, too; only, 
 everything's all wrong ! When she went running off 
 like that to-day, the Captain was standing outside the 
 house, and said to me : ' Go and look after your 
 mistress, Ragnhild,' and I went after her, and there 
 she was, standing behind a tree down the road, and she 
 just stood there, crying, and smiled at me. I tried to 
 get her to come in again, but she said we didn't care 
 about her ; it didn't matter where she went. ' The 
 Captain sent me after you,' said I. ' Did he, though ? ' 
 she asked. 'Now? Was it just now?' 'Yes,' said I. 
 ' Wait, then,' she said, and stood quite a while. ' Take 
 those hateful books that are lying in my room and 
 burn them,' she said ; and then : ' Oh no, I'll do it 
 myself, but I'll ring for you after supper, and then you 
 must come up at once.' ' I will,' said I, and then I 
 got her to come in." 
 
 " And you know," said Ragnhild suddenly, " she's 
 going to have a child." 
 
 We looked at one another. Nils' face grew, as it 
 were, veiled beneath a film of something indistinct. 
 All expression faded, the eyes asleep. But why should 
 it affect him so ? For the sake of saying something, 
 I turned to Ragnhild and asked : 
 
 " Fruen was going to ring for you, you said ? " 
 
 "Yes, and so she did. There was something she 
 wanted to tell the Captain, but she was afraid, and 
 wanted to have me there. ' Light a candle and pick 
 up all this host of buttons I've upset/ she said. And 
 then she called out to the Captain in his room. I lit 
 the candle and began picking up buttons ; dozens of
 
 WANDERERS 
 
 them there were, all sorts. The Captain came in. 
 I only wanted to tell you,' says Fruen at once, 'that 
 t was kind of you to send Ragnhild after me to-day 
 Heaven bless you for that ! ' < Never mind about that! 
 my dear, says he. ' Y ou were nervous, you know.' 
 Yes, Im all nerves just now,' she answered, 'but 
 hope : lt 11 get better in time. No, the trouble is 
 that I haven t a daughter I could bring up to be really 
 good. There s nothing I can do ! ' The Captain sat 
 down on a chair. Oh yes, there is,' he said 'Yes 
 you say? Oh, I know it says in that book there 
 3h those hateful books !-Ragnhild, take them away 
 and burn them,' she says. No, wait, I'll tear them to 
 >its now myself and put them in the stove here.' And 
 then she started pulling them to pieces, taking ever so 
 many pages at a time and throwing them in the stove 
 Don t be so excited, Lovise,' said the Captain! 
 The Nunnery, she said-that was one of the books. 
 
 A C xu g Int a nunner y- There's nothing I 
 can do. When I laugh, you think I'm laughing,' she 
 said to the Captain, 'but I'm miserable all the time 
 and not laughing a bit.' 'I s your toothache any 
 > er? he asked. 'Oh, that toothache won't be 
 better for a long time to come ! ' she said ; < you know 
 
 hat well enough.' ' No, indeed, I don't.' 'You don't 
 kn OW? ' < No .' 'But, heavens I can't you see what's 
 
 he matter wzth me? 'said Fruen. The Captain only 
 ooked at her and did not answer. ' I'm-oh" you said 
 to-day I rmght have a daughter after all, don't yo 
 
 '' haen 
 
 .. . 
 
 Ragnhild smiled and shook her head; then she went on 
 
 leaven forg!ve me for smiling, but the Captain's 
 
 face was so queer ; he stood there like a sheep. 'Didn't 
 
 you guess as much before ? ' asked Fruen. The Captain 
 
 looked over at me and said : ' What's that you're doing
 
 260 WANDERERS 
 
 there all this time ? ' 'I asked her to pick up those 
 buttons for me,' said Fruen. 'I've finished now,' said 
 I. * Have you? ' said Fruen, getting- up. ' Let me see.' 
 And she took the box and dropped them again all over 
 the floor. Oh, they went rolling all over the place, 
 under the table, under the bed and the stove ! ' There, 
 now, did you ever see such a mess ? ' said Fruen. But 
 then she went off again at once talking about herself, 
 and said again : ' But I can't understand you didn't see 
 I was didn't see what was the matter with me.' 
 'Can't those buttons wait till to-morrow?' said the 
 Captain. ' Why, yes, perhaps they can,' said Fruen. 
 ' But then I'll be treading on them everywhere. I 
 can't . . . I'm rather afraid of stooping just now. . . . 
 But, never mind, we'll leave them for now,' she said, 
 and stroked his hand. 'Oh, my dear, my dear!' she 
 says. But he drew his hand away. ' Oh, so you're 
 angry with me ! ' she said. ' But then, why did you 
 write and ask me to come back ? ' ' My dear Lovise, 
 we're not alone here,' he says. ' But surely you must 
 know what made you write?' ' I suppose it was because 
 I hoped things would come right again.' 'And they 
 didn't?' 'Well, no!' 'But what was in your mind 
 when you wrote ? Were you thinking of me ? Did you 
 want me again ? I can't make out what was in your 
 mind.' ' Ragnhild's finished, I see,' said the Captain. 
 ' Good-night, Ragnhild ! ' " 
 
 "And then you came away ? " 
 
 " Yes, but I dare not go far because of Fruen. You 
 may be sure it wasn't nice for her when I was out of 
 the room, so I had to be somewhere at hand. And if 
 the Captain had come and found me and said anything, 
 I'd have told him straight out I wasn't going farther 
 away with Fruen in the state she was. As it happened, 
 he didn't come at all, but they began again in there. 
 ' I know what you're thinking of,' said Fruen ' that
 
 WANDERERS 261 
 
 perhaps it's not ... it wouldn't be your child. Oh 
 yes, indeed it might be so ! But, God knows, I can't 
 find words this moment to make you forgive me ! ' she 
 said,^ all crying. ' Oh, my dear, forgive me, forgive 
 me ! ' said Fruen, and went down on her knees on the 
 floor. ' You've seen what I did with the books, and that 
 handkerchief with the initials on I burnt that before, 
 and the books, you know. . . .' ' Yes, and here's another 
 handkerchief with the same initials on,' says the Captain. 
 ' Oh, heavens ! yes, you're ever so considerate, Lovise.' 
 Fruen was all upset at that. 'I'm sorry you should 
 have seen it,' she said. 'It must be one I brought 
 back with me when I came home. I haven't looked 
 through my things properly since. But does it really 
 
 matter so very much? Surely ' 'Oh no,' said 
 
 he. 'And if you'd only listen to me,' she went on, 
 
 ' I'm almost certain it's you that ... I mean, that 
 
 the child is yours. Why should it not be? Oh, I 
 
 don't know how to say it!' 'Sit down again,' said 
 
 the Captain. But Fruen must have misunderstood ; 
 
 she got up and said: 'There you are! You won't 
 
 listen to me. Really, I can't make out why you ever 
 
 wrote to me at all. You might just as well have left 
 
 me alone.' Then the Captain said something about 
 
 being in prison ; if a man grew up in a prison yard, he 
 
 said, and you take him out, he'll long to be back in his 
 
 prison yard again, he said. It was something like that, 
 
 anyway. ' Yes, but I was with Papa and Mama, and 
 
 they weren't hard like you; they said I had been 
 
 married to him, and weren't unkind to me at all. It 
 
 isn't everyone that looks at things like you do.' ' You 
 
 don't want that candle alight now Ragnhild's gone, do 
 
 you ? ' said the Captain. ' It looks so out of place to 
 
 have it burning there beside the lamp as if it were 
 
 ashamed.' ' Ashamed of me,' she says quickly. 'Oh 
 
 yes, that was what you meant. But you've been to
 
 262 WANDERERS 
 
 blame as well.' ' Don't misunderstand me,' he says. 
 ' I know I've been to blame. But that doesn't make 
 your part any better.' ' Oh, you think not? Well, of 
 all the ... So yours doesn't count, then ? ' ' Yes, I 
 say I've been to blame, not in the way you mean, but 
 in other ways in old thing's and new.' ' Oh, indeed ! ' 
 ' Yes, but I don't come home bringing 1 the fruits of it 
 under my heart to you.' ' No,' says Fruen, ' but you 
 know it was you all along that wouldn't . . . that 
 didn't want us to have children. And 1 didn't want it, 
 either, but you ought to have known better. And they 
 said the same thing at home. If only I'd had a 
 daughter. . . .' ' Oh, don't let's go over all that 
 again,' says the Captain he called it something or 
 other a romance, I think it was. ' But it's true,' says 
 Fruen, ' and I can't think how you can deny it.' ' I'm 
 not denying anything. Do sit down, now, Lovise, and 
 listen to me. All this about having children, and a 
 daughter to bring up and so on, it's something you've 
 picked up lately. And you snatched at the idea at 
 once, to save yourself. But you never said a word 
 about wanting children before not that I ever heard.' 
 ' Yes, but you ought to have known better.' ' There 
 again, that's something you've heard, something new. 
 But it doesn't matter : quite possibly things might have 
 been different if we'd had children. I can see that 
 myself now, but now it's too late, more's the pity. And 
 here you are now like that. . . .' ' Oh, heavens, yes ! 
 But I tell you it may be yours after all I don't 
 know. . . . Oh! . . .' 'Mine?' said the Captain, 
 shaking his head. ' Well, the mother should be the 
 one to know. But in this case, it seems, she doesn't. 
 The woman I'm married to doesn't know or do you ? ' 
 But Fruen did not answer. ' Do you know ? I ask 
 you ! ' Oh, but again she could not answer, only 
 slipped down to the floor again and cried. Really, I
 
 WANDERERS 263 
 
 don't know but perhaps I'm on her side after all ; it 
 was dreadful for her, poor thing. And then I was just 
 going to knock at the door and go in, but then the 
 Captain went on again. ' You can't say it,' he said. 
 ' But that's an answer in itself, and plain enough.' ' I 
 can't say more,' said Fruen. She was still crying. 
 ' I'm fond of you for lots of things, Lovise,' says the 
 Captain, 'and one of them's because you're truthful.' 
 ' Thank you,' she says. ' They haven't taught you to 
 lie as yet. Get up, now.' And he helped her up 
 himself, and set her in the chair. But it was pitiful to 
 see her crying so. ' Don't cry, now,' he says. ' I want 
 to ask you something. Shall we wait and see what it's 
 like when it comes what sort of eyes it has, and so 
 on ? ' ' Oh, heaven bless you, yes, if you would ! Oh, 
 my dear, God bless you, God bless you ! ' ' And I'll 
 try to bear with things as they are. It's an aching 
 misery all the time, but I'll try. And I've been to 
 blame as well.' ' God bless you, God bless you ! ' she 
 said again. 'And you,' he said. 'And now good- 
 night until to-morrow.' Then Fruen leaned down over 
 the table and cried and cried so dreadfully. ' What 
 are you crying for now?' he asked. 'You're going,' 
 she said. ' Oh, I was afraid of you before, but now I 
 can't bear to be without you ! Couldn't you stay a 
 little ? ' ' Stay here, with you, now ? ' he asked. ' Oh 
 no, I didn't mean ... it wasn't that . . . only, it's so 
 lonely. I didn't mean . . .' ' No,' said the Captain. 
 ' You can understand I don't feel like staying any 
 longer now. Ring for the maid ! ' ' 
 
 "And then I had to run," Ragnhild concluded. 
 
 Said Nils, after a while: "Have they gone to bed 
 now ? " 
 
 Ragnhild could not say. Yes. Perhaps. Anyhow, 
 Cook was there in case. " But, only think of it, how 
 dreadful ! I don't suppose Fruen can sleep."
 
 264 WANDERERS 
 
 "You'd better go and see if there's anything you 
 can do." 
 
 " Yes," said Ragnhild, getting up. " But I side 
 with the Captain after all, and no mistake, whatever 
 you say. Yes, that I do." 
 
 " It's none so easy to know what's right." 
 
 " Only think of letting that engineer creature . . . 
 How she ever could, I don't know ! And then to go 
 down and stay with him there, after, as she did ; what 
 a thing to do ! And she's all those handkerchiefs of 
 his, ever so many, and a lot of her own are gone ; I 
 suppose they used each other's anyhow. Lived with 
 him, she said ! And she with a husband of her 
 own ! " 
 
 XII 
 
 The Captain has done as he said about the timber ; 
 there's a cracking and crashing in the woods already. 
 And a mild autumn, too, with no frost in the ground 
 as yet to stop the ploughing ; Nils grasps at the time 
 like a miser, to save as much as possible next spring. 
 
 Now comes the question whether Grindhusen and I 
 are to work on the timber. It crosses my mind that 
 I had intended really to go off for a tramp up in the 
 hills and over the moors while the berries were there ; 
 what about that journey now? And another thing, 
 Grindhusen was no longer worth his keep as a wood- 
 cutter ; he could hold one end of a saw, but that was 
 about all he was good for now. 
 
 No, for Grindhusen was changed somehow ; devil 
 knows how it had come about. He had not grown 
 bald at all ; his hair was there, and thick and red as 
 ever. But he had picked up a deal at 0vreb0, and 
 went about bursting with health and good feeding ; 
 well off here ? He had sent good sums of money home
 
 WANDERERS 265 
 
 to his family all that summer and autumn, and was 
 full of praise for Captain and Fruen, who paid such 
 good wages and treated their folk so well. Not like 
 the Inspector, that weighed and counted every miserable 
 Shilling, and then, as true as God's in heaven, go and 
 take off two Kroner that he'd given as clear as could 
 be ... ugh! He, Grindhusen, was not the man to 
 make a fuss about a wretched two Kroner, as long 
 as it was a matter of any sense or reason, but to go 
 and take it off like that-; fy Fan! Would you ever 
 find the Captain doing such a thing? 
 
 But Grindhusen was grown so cautious now, and 
 wouldn't even get properly angry with anyone. Even 
 yet, perhaps, he might go back and work for the 
 Inspector on the river at two Kroner a day, and 
 humbly agree with all his master said. Age, time, 
 had overtaken him. 
 It overtakes us all. 
 Said the Captain : 
 
 "That water-supply you spoke about is it too late 
 to do anything with it this year ? " 
 " Yes," I answered. 
 The Captain nodded and walked away. 
 I ploughed one day more, then the Captain came to 
 me again. He was out and about everywhere these 
 days, working hard, keeping an eye on everything. 
 He gave himself barely time for a proper meal, but 
 was out again at once, in the fields, the barn, the 
 cattle-sheds, or up in the woods where the men were 
 at work. 
 
 ;< You'd better get to work on that water-supply," 
 he said. "The ground's workable still, and may stay 
 so for a long time yet. What help will you want ? " ' 
 
 'Grindhusen can help," I said. " But 
 
 ' Yes, and Lars. What were you going to say ? " 
 
 4 The frost may set in any day now."
 
 266 WANDERERS 
 
 " Well, and then it may snow and soften the ground 
 again. We're not frost-bound here every year," said 
 the Captain. "You'd better take a few extra hands, 
 and set some of them to digging, the rest to the 
 masonry work. You've done all this before, I think 
 you said ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And I've spoken to Nils myself," he said, with a 
 smile. "So you'll have no trouble in that way. You 
 can put the horses in now." 
 
 So bravely cheerful he was, I could not help feeling 
 the same, and wanted to begin at once ; I hurried back 
 with the horses, almost at a run. The Captain seemed 
 quite eager about this water-supply, now that the 
 place looked so nice with its new paint, and after the 
 fine harvest we'd had. And now he was cutting a 
 thousand dozen battens in the woods, to pay off his 
 debts and leave something over I 
 
 So I went off up the rising ground, and found the 
 old place I had marked down long before for the 
 reservoir, took the depth down to the house, pacing 
 and measuring this way and that. There was a 
 streamlet came down from the hillside far above, with 
 such a depth and fall that it never froze in winter ; 
 the thing would be to build a small stone reservoir 
 here, with openings at the sides for the overflow in 
 autumn and spring. Oh, but they should have their 
 water-supply at 0vreb0 1 As for the masonry work, 
 we could break out our stone on the site itself ; there 
 was layer on layer of granite there. 
 
 By noon next day we were hard at work, Lars 
 Falkenberg digging the trench for the pipe - line, 
 Grindhusen and I getting stone. We were both well 
 used to this work from the days when we had been 
 road-making together at Skreia. 
 
 Well and good.
 
 WANDERERS 267 
 
 We worked four days ; then it was Sunday. I 
 remember that Sunday, the sky clear and far, the leaves 
 all fallen in the woods, and the hillside showing only 
 its calm winter green ; smoke rose from the chimney 
 up in the clearing. Lars had borrowed a horse and cart 
 that afternoon to drive in to the station ; he had killed 
 a pig and was sending it in to town. He was to fetch 
 letters for the Captain on the way back. 
 
 It occurred to me that this evening would be a good 
 time to send the lad up to the clearing for my washing : 
 Lars was away, and no one could take offence at that 
 washing business now. 
 
 Oh yes, I said to myself, you're very careful to do 
 what's right and proper, sending the lad up to fetch 
 that washing. But you'll find it isn't that at all. 
 Right and proper, indeed ; you're getting old, that's 
 what it is. 
 
 I bore with this reproach for an hour. Then well, 
 it was all nonsense, like as not, and here was a lovely 
 evening, and Sunday into the bargain, nothing to do, 
 no one to talk to down here. . . . Getting old, was I ? 
 Afraid of the walk uphill ? 
 And I went up myself. 
 
 Early next morning Lars Falkenbergcame over again. 
 He drew me aside, as he had done once before, and 
 with the same intent: I had been up at the clearing 
 yesterday, it seemed ; it was to be the last time, and 
 would I please to make no mistake about that ! 
 " It was the last of my washing, anyhow," I said. 
 " Oh, you and your washing ! As if I couldn't have 
 brought along your miserable shirt a hundred times 
 since you've been here ! " 
 
 Now, by what sort of magic had he got to know of 
 my little walk up there already ? Ragnhild, of course, 
 at her old tricks again it could be no one else. 
 There was no doing anything with that girl.
 
 268 WANDERERS 
 
 But now, as it happened, Nils was at hand this time, 
 as he had been the time before. He came strolling 
 over innocently from the kitchen, and in a moment 
 Lars' anger was turned upon him instead. 
 
 " Here's the other scarecrow coming up, too," says 
 Lars, " and he's a long sight worse than you." 
 
 " What's that you say ? " said Nils. 
 
 "What's that you say!" retorted Lars. " You go 
 home and rinse your mouth with a mixture or some- 
 thing, and see if you can talk plain," said he. 
 
 Nils stopped short at this, and came up to see what 
 it was all about. 
 
 " I don't know what you're talking about," said he. 
 
 " No, of course not. You don't know anything 
 that's any sense. But you know all about ploughing 
 in standing crops, don't you ? There's not many can 
 beat you at that." 
 
 But here Nils grew angry for once, and his cheeks 
 paled. 
 
 "What an utter fool you are, Lars! Can't you 
 keep your mouth shut with that nonsense ? " 
 
 "Fool, eh? Hark at the silly goat!" said Lars, 
 turning to me. " Thinks himself mighty fine, doesn't 
 he? ' Utter,' he says and goes white about it. I've 
 been more years than you at 0vreb0, and asked in to 
 sing up at the house of an evening more than once, let 
 me tell you. But things have changed since then, and 
 what have we got instead? You remember," he said, 
 turning to me, "what it was like in the old days. It 
 was Lars here and Lars there, and I never heard but 
 the work got done all right. And after me it was 
 Albert, that was here for eighteen months. But then 
 you, Nils, came along, and now it's toil and moil and 
 ploughing and carting manure day and night, till a 
 man's worn to a thread with it all." 
 
 Nils and I could not help laughing at this. And
 
 WANDERERS 269 
 
 Lars was in no way offended ; he seemed quite pleased 
 at having- said something funny, and, forgetting his 
 ill-will, joined in the laugh himself. 
 
 "Yes, I say it straight out," said he. "And if it 
 wasn't for you being a friendly sort between whiles no, 
 friendly I won't say, but someways decent and to get on 
 with after a fashion . . . if it wasn't for that . . ." 
 "Well, what then?" 
 
 Lars was getting more and more good humoured. 
 "Oh," he said, with a laugh, " I could just pick you 
 up and stuff you down in your own long boots." 
 " Like to feel my arm ? " said Nils. 
 " What's going on here ? " asked the Captain, coming 
 up. It was only six o'clock, but he was out and about 
 already. 
 
 " Nothing," said Lars and Nils as well. 
 " How's the reservoir getting on?" asked the Cap- 
 tain. This was to me, but before I could answer he 
 turned to Nils. " I shall want the boy to drive me to 
 the station," he said. " I'm going to Christiania." 
 
 Grindhusen and I went off to our work on the reser- 
 voir, and Lars to his digging. But a shadow seemed 
 to have fallen over us all. 
 
 Grindhusen himself said openly : " Pity the Captain's 
 going away." 
 
 I thought so, too. But he was obliged to go in on 
 business, no doubt. There were the crops as well as 
 the timber to be sold. But why should he start at that 
 hour of the day ? He couldn't catch the early train in 
 any case. Had there been trouble again ? Was he 
 anxious to be out of the way before Fruen got up ? 
 
 Trouble there was, often enough. 
 
 It had gone so far by this time that the Captain and 
 Fruen hardly spoke to one another, and whenever they 
 did exchange a word it was in a careless tone, and
 
 270 WANDERERS 
 
 looking all the other way. Now and again the Captain 
 would look his wife properly in the face, and say she 
 ought to be out more in the lovely air ; and once when 
 she was outside he asked if she wouldn't come in and 
 play a little. But this, perhaps, was only to keep up 
 appearances, no more. 
 
 It was pitiful to see. 
 
 Fruen was quiet and nice. Now and again she 
 would stand outside on the steps looking out towards 
 the hills ; so soft her features were, and her reddish 
 yellow hair. But it was dull for her now no visitors, no 
 music and entertaining, nothing but sorrow and shame. 
 
 The Captain had promised to bear with things as 
 they were, and surely he was bearing all he could. 
 But he could do no more. Disaster had come to the 
 home, and the best will in the world could not shoulder 
 it off. If Fruen happened to be hasty, as she might 
 now and then, and forgot to be grateful, the Captain 
 would look down at the floor, and it would not be long 
 before he put on his hat and went out. All the maids 
 knew about it, and I had seen it myself once or twice. 
 He never forgot what she had done how could he? 
 though he could keep from speaking of it. But could 
 he keep from speaking of it when she forgot herself and 
 said : 
 
 " You know I'm not well just now ; you know I can't 
 walk far like I used to I " 
 
 " S sh, Lovise I " he would say, with a frown. And 
 then the mischief was there as bad as ever. 
 
 " Oh, of course you must bring that up again ! " 
 
 " No, indeed 1 It's you that brought it up yourself 
 You've lost all sense of modesty, I think ; you seem to 
 have no shame left." 
 
 "Oh, I wish I'd never come back at all! I was 
 better off at home ! " 
 
 " Yes, or living with that puppy, I dare say."
 
 WANDERERS 271 
 
 "You said he'd helped you once yourself. And I 
 often wish I were back there with him again. Hugo's 
 a great deal better than you are." 
 
 She was all irresponsible in her words, going, per- 
 haps, further than she meant. But she was changed 
 out of knowledge to us all, and spoiled and shameless 
 now. Fru Falkenberg shameless ! Nay, perhaps not ; 
 who could say ? Yet she was not ashamed to come out 
 in the kitchen of an evening and say nice things to Nils 
 about how young and strong he was. I was jealous 
 again, no doubt, and envied Nils for his youth, for I 
 thought to myself: Is everyone gone mad? Surely we 
 older ones are far to be preferred ! Was it his inno- 
 cence that attracted her ? Or was she merely trying to 
 keep up her spirits a little trying to be younger than 
 she was ? But then one day she came up to the reser- 
 voir where Grindhusen and I were at work, and sat 
 watching us for a while. It was easy work then for 
 half an hour ; the granite turned pliable, and yielded to 
 our will ; we built away like giants. Oh, but Fruen 
 sat there irresponsible as ever, letting her eyes play 
 this way and that. Why could she not rid herself of 
 this new habit of hers ? Her eyes were too earnest for 
 such playing ; it did not suit her. I thought to myself, 
 either she was trying to make up for her foolishness 
 towards Nils by favouring us in turn, or starting a new 
 game altogether which would it be? I could not 
 make it out, and as for Grindhusen, he saw nothing in 
 it at all, but only said, when Fruen had gone : " Eh, 
 she's a strange kind-hearted soul, is Fruen. Almost 
 like a mother. Only fancy going and feeling if the 
 water wasn't too cold for us ! " 
 
 One day, when I was standing by the kitchen 
 entrance, she said : 
 
 " Do you remember the old days here when you first 
 came ? "
 
 272 WANDERERS 
 
 She had never once spoken of this till now, and I did 
 not know what to say. I stammered out : Yes, I 
 remembered. 
 
 "You drove me down to the Vicarage once," she 
 said. 
 
 Then I half fancied that perhaps she was not 
 disinclined to talk to me and occupy her mind a 
 little ; I felt I must help -her, make it easier for her. 
 And perhaps I was a little touched myself at the 
 thought. 
 
 " Yes," I said, " I remember. It was a glorious 
 drive. But Fruen must have found it cold towards the 
 last." 
 
 "It was you that must have felt cold," she answered. 
 " You lent me your own rug from the box. Oh, you 
 poor thing ! " 
 
 I was even more moved at this, and foolish ideas 
 came into my head. Ah, then she had not forgotten 
 me ! The few years that had passed since then had not 
 made so much difference in me after all ! 
 
 " Fruen must be mistaken about the rug, I think," 
 said I. " But I remember we stopped at a cottage to 
 eat, and the woman made coffee, and you gave me 
 things yourself." 
 
 As I spoke, I leaned up against the fence, with my 
 arms round a post. Perhaps this somehow offended 
 her, looking as if I expected her to stand gossiping 
 there with me. And then I had said, " We stopped at 
 a cottage," as if we had been equals. It was a bad 
 mistake on my part, of course, but I had got a little 
 out of hand after all these vagabond months. 
 
 I stood up straight again the moment I saw she was 
 displeased, but it was too late. She was just as kind 
 as ever, but she had grown suspicious and easily hurt 
 with all her trouble, and found rudeness in what was 
 merely awkwardness of mine.
 
 WANDERERS 27 3 
 
 "Well, well," she said, " I hope you find yourself as 
 comfortable now at 0vreb0 as before." 
 And she nodded and walked away. 
 
 Some days passed. The Captain had not come back, 
 but he had sent a post card, with a kind message, to 
 Fruen: he hoped to be home again next week. He 
 was also sending pipes, taps, and cement for the water- 
 supply. 
 
 Fruen showed me that card. " Here," she said, 
 " the Captain has sent these things for your work! 
 You had better get them down from the station." 
 
 We stood there together, looking at the card ; mid- 
 day, it was, and we were just outside the house. I 
 can't say how it was, but I was standing there quite 
 close to her, with my head bent in towards hers, and 
 it made me feel happy all through. When she had 
 finished reading she looked up at me. No play of her 
 eyes now ; but she must have caught some expression 
 in my face, for she looked at me still. Did she feel my 
 presence as I felt hers ? Those two heavy eyes raised 
 towards mine and held there were loaded to the brim 
 with love. She could not be responsible for her actions 
 now. There was a pathological depth in her glance, 
 an influence from far within, from the life she bore 
 under her heart. Her breath came heavily, her face 
 flushed dark all over, then she swung round and walked 
 slowly away. 
 
 There I stood, with the card in my hand. Had she 
 given it to me ? Had I taken it ? 
 
 "Your card," I said. "Shall I ..." 
 She held out her hand without looking round, and 
 walked on. 
 
 This little episode occupied my mind a great deal for 
 some days. Ought I to have gone after her when she 
 walked away? Oh, I might have tried, might have 
 18
 
 274 WANDERERS 
 
 made the attempt her door was not far off. Patho- 
 logical ? But what had she brought me the card for at 
 all ? She could have told me by word of mouth what 
 there was to say. I called to mind how six years before 
 we had stood in just that same way reading a telegram 
 the Captain had sent her. Did she find pleasure in 
 situations of that sort, and go out of her way to seek 
 them? 
 
 Next time I saw her there was no trace of any 
 embarrassment in her manner she was kind and cold. 
 So I had to let it drop altogether. And, anyhow, what 
 did I want with her at all ? No, indeed ! 
 
 Some visitors came to see her one day a neighbour's 
 wife, with her daughter. They had heard, no doubt, 
 that the Captain was away, and thought she might be 
 glad of a little society ; or perhaps they had come out 
 of curiosity. They were well received ; Fru Falken- 
 berg was amiable as ever, and even played the piano 
 for them. When they left, she went with them down 
 to the road, talking sensibly of practical affairs, though 
 she might well have had other things in her head than 
 coops and killing pigs. Oh, she was full of kindly 
 interest in it all ! " Come again soon or you, at any 
 rate, Sofie. . . ." " Thanks, thanks. But aren't you 
 ever coming over to us at Nedrebo?" "Oh, I? Of 
 course yes. I'd walk down with you now if it weren't 
 so late." "Well, to-morrow, then?" "Yes, perhaps 
 I might come over to-morrow. Oh, is that you?" 
 This was to Ragnhild, who had come down with a 
 shawl. "Oh, what an ideal did you think I should 
 catch cold ? " 
 
 Altogether things were looking brighter now at 
 0vreb0 ; we no longer felt that shadow of uneasiness 
 over us all. Grindhusen and I worked away at our 
 famous reservoir, and Lars was getting on farther every 
 day with his trench. Seeing the Captain was away, I
 
 WANDERERS 275 
 
 wanted to make the most of the time, and perhaps 
 have the work nearly done by the time he came back ; 
 it would be a grand thing if we could get it finished 
 altogether ! He would be all the better for a pleasant 
 little surprise, for yes, there had been something of a 
 scene the night before he left. Some new reminder, no 
 doubt, of the trouble that had come upon his house ; a 
 book, perhaps, still unburnt, lying about in Fruen's 
 room. He had ended up by saying: "Anyhow, I'm 
 cutting timber now to pay it off. And the harvest we've 
 got in means a lot of money. So I hope the Lord will 
 forgive me as I do him. Good-night, Lovise." 
 
 When we had laid the last stone of the reservoir, 
 and cement over all, I went down with Grindhusen to 
 help Lars with the trench we took a section each. 
 The work went on easily and with a will here and 
 there a stone had to be blasted out, or a tree felled 
 up in the woods; but the trench moved steadily 
 upwards, until we had a long black line from the house 
 to the reservoir itself. Then we went back again and 
 dug it out to the proper depth. This was no orna- 
 mental work, but a trench an underground resting, 
 place for some pipes that were to be buried on the 
 spot. All we were concerned with was to get down 
 below the reach of frost, and that before the frost 
 itself came to hinder us. Already it was coating the 
 fields at night. Nils himself left all else now, and 
 came to lend a hand. 
 
 But masonry and digging trenches are but work for 
 the hands ; my brain in its idleness was busy all the 
 while with every conceivable idea. As often as I 
 thought of that episode with the post card, it sent, as 
 it were, a glow all through me. Why should I think 
 any more about it? No, of course not. And I had 
 not followed her to the door after all. 
 
 But there she stood, and you there. Her breath
 
 276 WANDERERS 
 
 came towards you a taste of flesh. Out of a darkness 
 she was, nay, not of earth. And her eyes did you 
 mark her eyes ? 
 
 And each time something in me turned at the 
 thought a nausea. A meaningless succession of 
 names poured in upon me, places of wild and tender 
 sound, whence she might be : Uganda, Antananarivo, 
 Honolulu, Venezuela, Atacama. Verse ? Colours ? I 
 knew not what to do with the words. 
 
 XIII 
 
 Fruen has ordered the carriage to drive her to the 
 station. 
 
 No sign of haste in her manner ; she gives orders 
 to the cook about packing up some food for the 
 journey, and when Nils asks which carriage he is to 
 take, she thinks for a moment, and decides to take 
 the landau and pair. 
 
 So she went away. Nils himself drove for her. 
 
 They came back the same evening ; they had turned 
 back when half-way out. 
 
 Had Fruen forgotten something? She ordered 
 fresh horses, and another hamper of food ; she was 
 going off again at once. Nils was uneasy, and said so ; 
 it was almost night, they would be driving in the dark ; 
 but Fruen repeated her order. Meantime, she sat in- 
 doors and waited ; she had not forgotten anything ; 
 she did nothing now but sit staring before her. 
 Ragnhild went in and asked if there was anything 
 she could do. No, thank you. Fruen sat bowed 
 forward as if weighed down by some deadly grief. 
 
 The carriage was ready, and Fruen came out. 
 
 Seeing Nils himself ready to drive again, she took 
 pity on him, and said she would have Grindhusen to 
 drive this time. And she sat on the steps till he came.
 
 WANDERERS 277 
 
 Then they drove off. It was a fine evening, and nice 
 and cool for the horses. 
 
 "She's past making out now," said Nils. "I can't 
 think what's come to her. I'd no idea of anything, 
 when suddenly she taps at the window and says turn 
 back. We were about half-way there. But never a 
 word of starting out again at once." 
 
 But she must have forgotten something, surely ? " 
 "Ragnhild says no. She was indoors, and I 
 thought for a moment of those photograph things, it 
 she was going to burn them ; but they're still there. 
 No, she didn't do a single thing while she was back." 
 We walked across the courtyard together. 
 " No," Nils went on, " Fruen's in a bad way; she's 
 lost all harmony for everything. Where's she going 
 off to now, do you think? Heaven knows; she 
 doesn't seem to be altogether sure of it herself. When 
 we stopped to breathe the horses, she said something 
 about being in such a hurry, and having to be in different 
 places at once and then she ought not really to be away 
 from home at all. < Best for Fruen not to hurry about 
 anything,' I said, ' but just keep quiet.' But you know 
 how she is nowadays ; there's no saying a word to her. 
 She just looked at her watch and said go on again." 
 " Was this on the way to the station? " 
 " No, on the way back. She was quite excited, I 
 thought." 
 
 " Perhaps the Captain sent for her? " 
 
 Nils shook his head. "No. But perhaps Lord 
 knows. What was I going to say it's to-morrow's 
 Sunday, isn't it?" 
 
 "Yes; what then?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing. I was only thinking I'd use the day 
 off to mark out firewood for the winter. I've been 
 thinking of that a long while. And it's easier now 
 than when the snow's about."
 
 278 WANDERERS 
 
 Always thinking of his work, was Nils. He took a 
 pride in it, and was anxious now, moreover, to show 
 his gratitude for the Captain's having raised his wages 
 since the harvest. 
 
 It is Sunday. 
 
 I walked up to have a look at the trench and the 
 reservoir ; a few more good days now, and we should 
 have the pipes laid down. I was quite excited about it 
 myself, and could hardly wait for to-morrow's working- 
 day to begin again. The Captain had not interfered in 
 the arrangements, not with a single word, but left all 
 to me, so that it was no light matter if the frost came 
 now and upset it all. 
 
 When I got back, there was the landau outside the 
 house the horses had been taken out. Grindhusen 
 would about have had time to get back, I thought ; but 
 why had he pulled up in front of the steps to the house ? 
 
 I went into the kitchen. The maids came towards 
 me ; Fruen was in the carriage, they said ; she had 
 come back once again. She had just been to the 
 station, but now she was going there again. Could I 
 make out what was the matter with her, now? 
 
 " Nervous, I expect," said I. " Where's Nils ? " 
 
 " Up in the woods. Said he'd be away some time. 
 There's only us here now, and we can't say more to her 
 than we have." 
 
 " And where's Grindhusen ? " 
 
 " Changing the horses again. And Fruen's sitting 
 there in the carriage and won't get out. You go and 
 speak to her." 
 
 "Oh, well, there's no great harm in her driving 
 about a bit. Don't worry about that." 
 
 I went out to the carriage, my heart beating fast. 
 How miserable and desperate she must be ! I opened 
 the carriage door, and asked respectfully if Fruen 
 would let me drive this time.
 
 WANDERERS 279 
 
 She looked me calmly in the face. " No. What 
 for ? " she said. 
 
 "Grindhusen might be a little done up, perhaps I 
 don't know . . ." 
 
 "He promised to drive," she said. "And he's not 
 done up. Isn't he nearly ready ? " 
 
 " I can't see him," I answered. 
 
 "Shut the door again, and tell him to come," she 
 commanded, wrapping herself more closely as she 
 spoke. 
 
 I went over to the stables. Grindhusen was harness- 
 ing a fresh pair of horses. 
 
 "What's all this ? " I asked. " Going off again, are 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes that is, I thought so," said Grindhusen, 
 stopping for a moment as if in doubt. 
 
 " It looks queer. Where's Fruen going to, do you 
 know?" 
 
 "No. She wanted to drive back again last night 
 as soon as we got to the station, but I told her that 
 it was too much for either of us to drive back then. 
 So she slept at the hotel. But this morning it was 
 home again, if you please. And now she wants to 
 go to the station again, she says. I don't know, I'm 
 sure ..." 
 
 Grindhusen goes on harnessing up. 
 
 " Fruen said you were to make haste," I said. 
 
 "All right, I'm coming. But these girths are the 
 very devil." 
 
 " Aren't you too tired to drive all that way again 
 now?" 
 
 " No. You know well enough I can manage it all 
 right. And she's given me good money, too. Extra." 
 
 "Did she, though?" 
 
 "Ay, that she did. But she's a queer sort, is 
 Fruen."
 
 28o WANDERERS 
 
 Then said I : "I don't think you ought to go off 
 again now." 
 
 Grindhusen stopped short. "You think so? Well, 
 now, I dare say you're right." 
 
 Just then came Fruen's voice from outside she had 
 come right over to the stable door. 
 
 "Aren't you ready yet? How much longer am I 
 to sit waiting? " 
 
 "Ready this minute," answered Grindhusen, and 
 turned to again, busier than ever. " It was only these 
 girths." 
 
 Fruen went back to the carriage. She ran, and the 
 thick fur coat she had on was too heavy for her, she 
 had to balance with her arms. It was pitiful to see ; 
 like a hen trying to escape across a barnyard, and 
 flapping its wings to help. 
 
 I went over to the carriage again, politely, even 
 humbly. I took off my cap, and begged Fruen to give 
 up this new journey. 
 
 " You are not driving me ! " she answered. 
 " No. But if Fruen would only give it up and stay 
 at home ..." 
 
 At this she was offended ; she stared at me, looked 
 me up and down, and said : 
 
 " Excuse me, but this is no business of yours. 
 Because I got you dismissed once ..." 
 
 " No, no, it's not that ! " I cried desperately, and 
 could say no more. When she took it that way I 
 was helpless. 
 
 Just for one moment a wave of fury came over me ; I 
 had only to put out my arms and I could lift her out 
 of the carriage altogether, this child, this pitiful hen ! 
 My arms must have twitched at the thought, for she 
 gave a sudden frightened start, and shifted in her 
 seat. Then all at once the reaction took me ; I turned 
 foolish and soft, and tried once more :
 
 WANDERERS 281 
 
 "It'll be so dismal for us all here if you go. Do 
 let us try if we can't hit on something between us 
 to pass the time for you ! I can read a little, reading 
 aloud, and there's Lars can sing. Perhaps I might tell 
 stories tell of something or other. Here's Grindhusen 
 coming ; won't you let me tell him you're not going 
 after all ? " 
 
 She softened at this, and sat thinking for a little. 
 Then she said 
 
 " You must be making a mistake altogether, I think. 
 I am going to the station to meet the Captain. He 
 didn't come the first day, or yesterday either, but he's 
 sure to come some time. I'm driving over to meet 
 him." 
 "Oh!" 
 
 " There you are. Now go. Is Grindhusen there ? " 
 It was like a slap in the face for me. She was right ; 
 it sounded so natural oh, I had made a fool of myself 
 again ! 
 
 "Yes, here he is," I answered. There was no more 
 to be said. 
 
 And I put on my cap again, and helped Grindhusen 
 myself with the harness. So confused and shamed 
 was I that I did not even ask pardon, but only 
 fretted this way and that way seeing to buckles and 
 straps. 
 
 "You are driving then, Grindhusen ?" called Fruen 
 from the carriage. 
 
 " Me? Yes, surely," he answered. 
 Fruen pulled the door to with a bang, and the 
 carriage drove off. 
 
 "Has she gone?" asked the maids, clasping their 
 hands. 
 
 "Gone yes, of course. She's going to meet her 
 husband."
 
 282 WANDERERS 
 
 I strolled up to the reservoir again. Grindhusen 
 away meant one man less ; why, then, the rest of us 
 must work so much the harder. 
 
 But I had already come to realise that Fru Falken- 
 berg had only silenced me with a false excuse when 
 she declared she was going to meet her husband. 
 What matter ? The horses were rested ; they had done 
 no work the days Nils had been helping us with the 
 trench. But I had been a fool. I could have got up 
 on the box myself without asking leave. Well, and 
 what then ? Why, then at least any later follies would 
 have had to pass by way of me, more or less, and I 
 might have stopped them. He, he ! infatuated old 
 fool ! Fruen knew what she was doing, no doubt ; she 
 wanted to pay off old scores, and be away when her 
 husband came home. She was all indecision, would 
 and would not, would and would not, all the time ; 
 but the idea was there. And I, simple soul I had not 
 set out a-wandering on purpose to attend to the par- 
 ticular interests of married folk in love or out of it. 
 'Twas their affair ! Fru Falkenberg had changed for 
 the worse. There was no denying it ; she had suffered 
 damage, and was thoroughly spoiled now ; it hardly 
 mattered any longer what she did. Ay, and she had 
 taken to lying as well. First, music-hall tricks with 
 her eyes, then on till it got to lying. A white lie 
 to-day, to-morrow a blacker one, each leading to 
 another. And what of it? Life could afford to waste 
 her, to throw her away. 
 
 We put in three days' work at the trench ; only a 
 few feet left now. There might be three degrees of 
 frost now at nights, but it did not stop us ; we went 
 steadily on. Grindhusen had come back, and was set 
 to tunnelling under the kitchen where the pipes were 
 to go ; but the stable and cowshed were more important, 
 and I did the underground work for these myself.
 
 WANDERERS 283 
 
 Nils and Lars ran the last bit of trench up meanwhile, 
 the last bit of way to the reservoir. 
 
 To-day, at last, I questioned Grindhusen about Fruen. 
 
 "So you didn't bring Fruen back with you again 
 this last time?" 
 
 " No. She went off by train." 
 
 " Off to her husband, I suppose ? " 
 
 But Grindhusen has turned cautious with me ; these 
 two days past he has said never a word, and now he 
 only answers vaguely : 
 
 "Ay, that would be it, no doubt. Ay, surely, yes. 
 Why, you might reckon that out yourself, she would. 
 Her own husband and all. . . ." 
 
 " I thought perhaps she might have been going up to 
 her own people at Kristianssand." 
 
 "Why, that might be," says Grindhusen, thinking 
 this a better way. "Lord, yes, that would be it, of 
 course. Just for a visit, like. Well, well, she'll be 
 home again soon, for sure." 
 
 "Did she tell you so?" 
 
 " Why, 'twas so I made out. And the Captain's not 
 home himself yet, anyway. Eh, but she's a rare open- 
 handed one, she is. < Here's something for food and 
 drink for yourself and the horses,' she says. 'And 
 here's a little extra,' she says again. Eh, but there's 
 never her like ! " 
 
 But to the maids, with whom he felt less fear, 
 Grindhusen had said it didn't look as if they'd be see- 
 ing Fruen back again at all. She had been asking him 
 all the way, he said, about Engineer Lassen ; she must 
 have gone off to him after all. And, surely, she'd be 
 well enough with him, a man with any amount of 
 money and grand style and all. 
 
 Then came another card for Fruen from the.Captain, 
 this time only to say would she please send Nils to 
 meet him at the station on Friday, and be sure to bring
 
 284 WANDERERS 
 
 his fur coat. The post card had been delayed it was 
 Thursday already. And this time it was fortunate, 
 really, that Ragnhild happened to look at the post card 
 and see what it said. 
 
 We stayed sitting in Nils's room, talking about the 
 Captain what he would say when he got back, and 
 what we should say, or if we ought to say anything at 
 all. All three of the maids were present at this council. 
 Fruen would have had plenty of time to get to Kris- 
 tiania herself by the day the Captain had written his 
 card ; she had not, it seemed she had gone somewhere 
 else. It was more than pitiful altogether. 
 
 Said Nils : 
 
 "Didn't she leave a note or anything when she 
 went ? " 
 
 But no, there was nothing. Ragnhild, however, had 
 done a thing on her own responsibility which perhaps 
 she ought not to have done she had taken the photos 
 from the piano and thrown them in the stove. " Was 
 it wrong, now ? " 
 
 " No, no, Ragnhild ! No ! " 
 
 She told us, also, that she had been through Fruen's 
 wardrobe and sorted out all handkerchiefs that were 
 not hers. Oh, she had found lots of things up in her 
 room a bag with Engineer Lassen's initials worked 
 on, a book with his full name in, some sweets in an 
 envelope with his writing and she had burnt it all. 
 
 A strange girl, Ragnhild yes ! Was there ever 
 such an instinct as hers ? It was like the devil turned 
 monk. Ragnhild, who made such use herself of the 
 thick red stair-carpet and the keyholes everywhere ! 
 
 It suited me and my work well enough that the Cap- 
 tain had not ordered the carriage before ; we had got 
 the trench finished now all the way up, and I could 
 manage without Nils for laying the pipes. I should 
 want all hands, though, when it came to filling in
 
 WANDERERS 285 
 
 again. It was rain again now, by the way ; mild 
 weather, many degrees of warmth. 
 
 It was well for me, no doubt, these days that I had 
 this work of mine to occupy my thoughts as keenly as 
 it did ; it kept away many a fancy that would surely 
 otherwise have plagued me. Now and again I would 
 clench my fists as a spasm of pain came over me ; and 
 when I was all alone up at the reservoir I could some- 
 times cry aloud up at the woods. But there was no 
 possibility of my getting away. And where should I 
 go if I did ? 
 
 The Captain arrived. 
 
 He went all through the house at once into the par- 
 lour, out into the kitchen, then to the rooms upstairs- 
 all in his fur coat and overboots. 
 
 " Where's Fruen?" he asked. 
 
 " Fruen went to meet Captain," answered Ragnhild. 
 " We thought she'd be coming back now as well." 
 
 The Captain's head bowed forward a little. Then 
 cautiously he began questioning. 
 
 " You mean she drove with Nils to the station ? 
 Stupid of me not to have looked about while I was 
 there ! " 
 
 " No," said Ragnhild ; " it was Sunday Fruen went." 
 
 At this the Captain pulled himself together. " Sun- 
 day?" he said. "Then she must have been going 
 to meet me in Kristiania. H'm ! We've managed to 
 miss each other somehow. I had to make another 
 little journey yesterday, out to Drammen no, Frederik- 
 stad, I mean. Get me something to eat, will you ? " 
 
 " Vcersaagod, it's all ready laid." 
 
 "It was the day before yesterday, by the way, I 
 went out there. Well, well, she'll have had a little 
 outing, anyhow. And how's everything going on? 
 Are the men at work on the trench?"
 
 286 WANDERERS 
 
 " They've finished it, I think." 
 
 The Captain went in, and Ragnhild came running at 
 once to tell us what he had said, that we might know 
 what to go by now, and not make things worse. 
 
 Later in the day he came out to where we were at 
 work, greeted us cheerily, in military fashion, and was 
 surprised to find the pipes already laid ; we had begun 
 filling in now. 
 
 " Splendid ! " he said. " You fellows are quicker at 
 your work than I am." 
 
 He went off by himself up to the reservoir. When 
 he came back his eyes were not so keen ; he looked a 
 little weary. Maybe he had been sitting there alone 
 and thinking of many things. He stood watching us 
 now with one hand to his chin. After a little he said 
 to Nils : 
 
 " I've sold the timber now." 
 " Captain's got a good price for it, maybe? " 
 "Yes, a good price. But I've been all this time 
 about it. You've been quicker here." 
 
 " There were more of us here," I said. " Four of us 
 sometimes." 
 
 And at that he tried to jest. " Yes," he said ; " I know 
 you're an expensive man to have about the place ! " 
 
 But there was no jest in his face ; his smile was 
 hardly a smile at all. The weakness had gripped him 
 now in earnest. After a little, he sat down on a stone 
 we had just got out, all over fresh clay as it was, and 
 watched us. 
 
 I took up my spade and went up, thinking of his 
 clothes. 
 
 " Hadn't I better scrape the stone a bit clean ? " 
 " No, it doesn't matter," he said. 
 But he got up all the same, and let me clean it a 
 little. 
 
 It was then that Ragnhild came running up to us,
 
 WANDERERS 
 
 287 
 
 following- the line of the trench. She had something in 
 her hand a paper. And she was running, running. 
 The Captain sat watching her. 
 
 " It's only a telegram ! " she said breathlessly. It 
 came on by messenger." 
 
 The Captain got up and strode quickly a few paces 
 forward towards this telegram that had come. Then he 
 tore it open and read. 
 
 We could see at once it must be something impor- 
 tant. The Captain gave a great gasp. Then he began 
 walking down, running down, towards the house. A 
 little way off he turned round and called to Nils : 
 
 ' The carriage at once ! I must go to the station ! " 
 
 Then he ran on again. 
 
 So the Captain went away again. He had only been 
 home a few hours. 
 
 Ragnhild told us of his terrible haste and worry, poor 
 man ; he was getting into the carriage without his fur 
 coat, and would have left the food behind him that was 
 packed all ready. And the telegram that had come was 
 lying all open on the stairs. 
 
 " Accident," it said. " Your wife. Chief of Police." 
 What was all this ? 
 
 "I thought as much," said Ragnhild, "when they 
 sent it on by messenger." Her voice was strange, and 
 she turned away. "Something serious, I dare say" 
 she said. 
 
 "No, no I" said I, reading and reading again 
 | 'Look, it's not so very bad 1 Hear what it says: 
 ' Request you come at once accident to your wife.' " 
 
 It was an express telegram from the little town, the 
 little dead town. Yes, that was it a town with a roar 
 of sound through it, and a long bridge, and foaming 
 waters ; all cries there died as they were uttered none 
 could hear. And there were no birds.
 
 288 WANDERERS 
 
 But all the maids spoke now in changed voices ; 'twas 
 nothing but misery amongst us now ; I had to appear 
 steady and confident myself, to reassure them. Fruen 
 might have had a fall, perhaps, she was not so active 
 of late. But she could, perhaps, have got up again and 
 walked on almost as well as ever just a little bleeding. 
 . . . Oh, they were so quick with their telegrams, these 
 police folk ! 
 
 " No, no ! " said Ragnhild. " You know well enough 
 that when the Chief of Police sends a telegram it's 
 pretty sure to mean Fruen's been found dead some- 
 where ! Oh, I can't I can't can't bear it ! " 
 
 Miserable days ! I worked away, harder than ever, 
 but as a man in his sleep, without interest or pleasure. 
 Would the Captain never come ? 
 
 Three days later he came quietly and alone. The 
 body had been sent to Kristianssand ; he had only come 
 back to fetch some clothes, then he was going on there 
 himself, to the funeral. 
 
 He was home this time for an hour at most, then off 
 again to catch the early train. I did not even see him 
 myself, being out at work. 
 
 Ragnhild asked if he had seen Fruen alive. 
 
 He looked at her and frowned. 
 
 But the girl would not give up ; she begged him, for 
 Heaven's sake, to say. And the two other maids stood 
 just behind, as desperate as she. 
 
 Then the Captain answered, but in a low voice as if 
 to himself: 
 
 " She had been dead some days when I got there. It 
 was an accident ; she had tried to cross the river and 
 the ice would not bear. No, no, there was no ice, but 
 the stones were slippery. There was ice as well, 
 though." 
 
 Then the maids began moaning and crying ; but this 
 was more than he could stand. He got up from the
 
 WANDERERS 2 Sg 
 
 chair where he was sitting, cleared his throat hard, and 
 said: 
 
 "There, there, it's all right, girls, go along now. 
 Kagnhild, a minute." And then to Ragnhild, when the 
 others had gone: "What was I going to say, now? 
 you haven't moved some photos, have you, that were 
 on the piano here ? I can't make out what's happened 
 to them." 
 
 Then Ragnhild spoke up well and with spirit and 
 
 may Heaven bless her for the lie ! 
 
 " I ? No, indeed, 'twas Fruen herself one day." 
 "Oh? Well, well. I only wondered how it was 
 
 they had gone." 
 
 Relieved relieved the Captain was to hear it. 
 As he was leaving he told Ragnhild to say I was not 
 to go away from Ovrebo till he returned. 
 
 XIV 
 
 No, I did not go away. 
 
 I worked on, tramped through the weariest days of 
 my life to their end, and finished laying the pipes It 
 was a bit of a change for us all on the place the 'first 
 time we could draw water from a tap, and we were 
 none the worse for something new to talk about for a 
 while. 
 
 Lars Falkenberg had left us. He and I had got rid 
 )f all disagreement between us at the last, and were as 
 we had been in the old days when we were mates and 
 tramped the roads together. 
 
 He was better off than many another, was Lars 
 light of heart and empty of head ; and thereto uncon' 
 scionably sound and strong. True, there would be no 
 lore singing up at the house for him now or ever after 
 but he seemed to have grown a trifle doubtful of his 
 voice himself the last few years, and contented himself 
 19
 
 290 WANDERERS 
 
 now for the most part with the thing's he had sung 1 
 once upon a time at dances and gentlefolk's parties. 
 No, Lars Falkenberg was none so badly off. He'd his 
 own little holding, with keep for two cows and a pig ; 
 and a wife and children he had as well. 
 
 But what were Grindhusen and I to turn our hands 
 to now? I could go off wandering anywhere, but 
 Grindhusen, good soul, was no wanderer. All he could 
 do was to stay on at one place and work till he was 
 dismissed. And when the stern decision came, he was 
 so upset that he could not take it easily, but felt he was 
 being specially hardly used. Then after a while he 
 grew confident again, and full of a childlike trust not 
 in himself, but in Fate, in Providence sat down 
 resignedly, and said: "Ay, well, 'twill be all right, 
 let's hope, with God's help." 
 
 But he was happy enough. He settled down with 
 marvellous ease at whatever place he came to, and 
 could stay there till he died if it rested with himself. 
 Home he need not go ; the children were grown up now, 
 and his wife never troubled him. No, this red-haired 
 old sinner of former days all he needed now was a 
 place, and work. 
 
 " Where are you going after this ? " he asked me. 
 " A long way, up in the hills, to Trovatn, to a forest." 
 He did not believe me in the least, but he answered 
 quickly and evasively : 
 "Ay, I dare say, yes." 
 
 After we had finished the pipes, Nils sent Grindhusen 
 and myself up cutting wood till the Captain returned. 
 We cut up and stacked the top-ends the woodmen had 
 left ; neat and steady work it was. 
 
 "We'll be turned off, both of us," said Grindhusen, 
 " when Captain comes, eh ? " 
 
 "You might get work here for the winter," I said. 
 "A thousand dozen battens means a lot of small stuff
 
 WANDERERS 291 
 
 left over that you could saw up for a reasonable 
 wage. " 
 
 " Well, talk to the Captain about it," he said. 
 
 And the hope of regular work for the winter made this 
 man a contented soul. He could manage well enough. 
 No, Grindhusen had nothing much to trouble about. 
 
 But then there was myself. And I felt but little 
 worth or use to myself now, Heaven help me ! 
 
 That Sunday I wandered restlessly about. I was 
 waiting for the Captain ; he was to be back to-day. To 
 make sure of things as far as I could, I went for a long 
 walk up along the stream that fed our reservoir. I 
 wanted to have another look at the two little waters up 
 the hillside "the sources of the Nile." 
 
 Coming down on the way back, I met Lars Falken- 
 berg; he was going home. The full moon was just 
 coming up, red and huge, and turned things light all 
 round. A touch of snow and frost there was, too ; it 
 was easy breathing. Lars was in a friendly mood : 'he 
 had been drinking Brandevin somewhere, and talked 
 a great deal. But I was not altogether pleased at 
 meeting him. 
 
 I had stood there long up on the wooded hillside, 
 listening to the soughing of earth and sky, and there 
 was nothing else to hear. Then there might come a 
 faint little rustling, a curled and shrunken leaf rolling 
 and rustling down over the frozen branches. It was 
 like the sound of a little spring. Then the soughing 
 of earth and sky again. A gentleness came over me ; 
 a mute was set on all my strings. 
 
 Lars Falkenberg wanted to know where I had been 
 and where I was going. Reservoir? A senseless 
 business that reservoir thing. As if people couldn't 
 carry water for themselves. The Captain went in too 
 much for these new-fangled inventions and ploughing
 
 292 WANDERERS 
 
 over standing crops and such-like ; he'd find himself 
 landed one day. A rich harvest, they said. Ho, yes, 
 but they never troubled to think what it must cost, with 
 machines for this and that, and a pack of men to every 
 machine again. What mustn't it have cost, now, for 
 Grindhusen and me that summer ! And then himself 
 this autumn. In the old days it had been music and 
 plenty at 0vreb0, and some of us had been asked into 
 the parlour to sing. "I'll say no more," said Lars. 
 " And now there's hardly a sizable stick of timber left 
 in the woods." 
 
 "A few years' time and it'll be as thick as ever." 
 
 "A few years ! A many years, you mean. No, it's 
 not enough to go about being Captain and commanding 
 brrrr! and there it is! And he's not even spokesman 
 for the neighbours now, and you never see folk coming 
 up now to ask him what he'd say was best to do in this 
 or that. ..." 
 
 "Did you see the Captain down below? Had he 
 come back yet? " I broke in. 
 
 " He's just come back. Looked like a skeleton, he 
 did. What was I going to say? . . . When are you 
 leaving? " 
 
 " To-morrow," I said. 
 
 " So soon? " Lars was all friendliness, and wishing 
 me good luck now ; he had not thought I should be 
 going off at once. 
 
 "It's all a chance if I see you again this time," he 
 said. " But I'll tell you this much, now : you'd do well 
 to stop frittering your life away any more, and never 
 staying on a place for good. And I say as much here 
 and now, so mark my words. I dare say I haven't got 
 on so grandly myself, but I don't know many of our likes 
 have done better, and anyway not you. I've a roof over 
 my head at the least, and a wife and children, and two 
 cows one bears autumn and one spring and then a
 
 WANDERERS 293 
 
 pig, and that's all I can say I own. So better not 
 boast about that. But if you reckon it up, it amounts 
 to a bit of a holding after all." 
 
 " It's all very well for you, the way you've got on," 
 said I. 
 
 Lars is friendlier than ever after this appreciation ; 
 he wishes me no end of good, and goes on : 
 
 ' There's none could get on better than yourself, for 
 that matter. With the knack you've got for all kinds 
 of work, and writing and figuring into the bargain, 
 it's your own fault. You might have done as I 
 told you these six, seven years ago, and taken one of 
 the other girls on the place, like I did with Emma, and 
 settled down here for good. Then you wouldn't be 
 going about now from place to place. But I say the 
 same again now." 
 
 " It's too late," I answered. 
 
 "Ay, you're terribly grey. I don't know who you 
 could reckon to get now about here. How old are 
 you now? " 
 
 "Don't ask me !" 
 
 "Not exactly a young one, perhaps, but still 
 
 What was I going to say? Come up with me a little, 
 and maybe I'll remember." 
 
 I walked up, and Lars went on talking all the way 
 He offered to put in a word for me with the Captain 
 so I could get a clearing like he had. 
 
 "Funny to go and forget a thing like that," he said. 
 it s gone clean out of my head. But come up home 
 now. I'll be sure to hit on it again." 
 
 All friendliness he was now. But I had one or two 
 things to do myself, and would not go farther. 
 ; ' You won't see the Captain to-night, anyway." 
 No, but it was late. Emma would be in bed, and 
 would only be a trouble. 
 
 " Not a bit of it," said Lars. And if she has gone
 
 294 WANDERERS 
 
 to bed, what of it? I shouldn't wonder, now, if there 
 was a shirt of yours up there, too. Better come up 
 and take it with you, and save Emma going all the 
 way down herself." 
 
 But I would not go up. I ventured, however, to 
 send a greeting to Emma this time. 
 
 "Ay, surely," said Lars. "And if so be as you 
 haven't time to come up to my bit of a place now, why, 
 there it is. You'll be going off first thing to-morrow, 
 I suppose ? " 
 
 It slipped my mind for the moment that I should not 
 be able to see the Captain that evening, and I answered 
 now that I should be leaving as early as could be. 
 
 " Well, then, I'll send Emma down with that shirt of 
 yours at once," said Lars. " And good luck to you. 
 And don't forget what I said." 
 
 And that was farewell to Lars. 
 
 A little farther down I slackened my pace. After all, 
 there was no real hurry about the few things I had to 
 pack and finish off. I turned back and walked up 
 again a little, whistling in the moonlight. It was a 
 fine evening, not cold at all, only a soft, gentle calm 
 all over the woods. Half an hour passed, and then 
 to my surprise came Emma, bringing my shirt. 
 
 Next morning neither Grindhusen nor I went to the 
 woods. Grindhusen was uneasy. 
 
 "Did you speak to the Captain about me?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " I haven't spoken to him." 
 
 " Oh, I know he'll turn me off now, you see ! If he 
 had any sense, he'd let me stay on to cut up all that 
 cordwood. But what's he know about things? It's 
 as much as he can manage to keep a man at all." 
 
 "Why, what's this, Grindhusen? You seemed to 
 like the Captain well enough before."
 
 WANDERERS 295 
 
 "Oh yes, you know! Yes, of course. He's good 
 enough, I dare say. H'm ! I wonder, now, if the 
 Inspector down on the river mightn't have some little 
 scrap of a job in my line. He's a man with plenty of 
 money, is the Inspector." 
 
 I saw the Captain at eight o'clock, and talked with 
 him a while ; then a couple of neighbours came to 
 call offering sympathy in his bereavement, no doubt. 
 The Captain looked fatigued, but he was not a broken 
 man by any means ; his manner was firm and steady 
 enough. He spoke to me a little about a plan he had 
 in mind for a big drying-house for hay and corn. 
 
 No more of things awry now, at 0vreb0, no more 
 emotion, no soul gone off the rails. I thought of it 
 almost with sadness. No one to stick up impertinent 
 photographs on the piano, but no one to play on that 
 piano, either ; dumb now, it stands, since the last note 
 sounded. No, for Fru Falkenberg is not here now ; 
 she can do no more hurt to herself or any other. 
 Nothing of all that used to be here now. Remains, 
 then, to be seen if all will be flowers and joy at 0vrebo 
 hereafter. 
 
 "If only he doesn't take to drinking again," I said 
 to Nils. 
 
 "No, surely," he said. "And I don't believe he 
 ever did. It was just a bit of foolery; if you ask me, 
 his going on like that just for the time. But talking 
 of something else will you be coming back here in 
 the spring?" 
 
 " No," I answered. " I shall not come again now." 
 
 Then Nils and I took leave of each other. Well I 
 remember that man's calm and fairness of mind ; I 
 stood looking after him as he walked away across 
 the yard. Then he turned round and said : 
 
 "Were you up in the woods yesterday? Is there 
 snow enough for me to take a sledge up for wood ? "
 
 296 WANDERERS 
 
 " Yes," I answered. 
 
 And he went off, relieved, to the stables, to harness up. 
 
 Grindhusen, too, comes along, on the way to the 
 stable. He stops for a moment to tell me that the 
 Captain has himself offered him work cutting- wood. 
 " ' Saw up all the small stuff you can,' he said ; ' keep 
 at it for a while. I dare say we can agree all right 
 about wages.' ' Honoured and thank you, Captain,' 
 says I. ' Right! Go and tell Nils,' he says. Oh, but 
 he's a grand open-handed sort, is the Captain ! There's 
 not many of his like about." 
 
 A little while after, I was sent for up to the Captain's 
 room. He thanked me for the work I had done both 
 indoors and out, and went on to settle up. And that 
 was all, really. But he kept me there a little, asking 
 one or two things about the drying-shed, and we 
 talked over that for a bit. Anyhow it would have to 
 wait till after Christmas, he said. But when the time 
 came, he'd be glad to see me back. He looked me in 
 the face then, and went on : 
 
 " But you won't come back here again now, I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 I was taken by surprise. But I faced him squarely 
 in return, and answered : 
 
 "No." 
 
 As I went down, I thought over what he had said. 
 Had he seen through me, then? If so, he had shown 
 a degree of trust in me that I was glad to think of. 
 At least, he was a man of good feeling. 
 
 Trust me? And why should he not? Played out 
 and done with as I was. Suffered to go about and do 
 and be as I pleased, by virtue of my eminent incapacity 
 for harm. Yes, that was it. And, anyhow, there was 
 nothing to see through after all. 
 
 I went round, upstairs and down, saying good-bye to 
 them all, to Ragnhild and the maids. Then, as I was
 
 WANDERERS 297 
 
 coming in front of the house with my pack on my 
 shoulder, the Captain called to me from the steps : 
 
 " Wait ! I just thought if you're going to the 
 station, the lad could drive you in." 
 
 Thoughtful and considerate again! But I thanked 
 him and declined. I was not so played out but that I 
 could surely walk that way. 
 
 Back in my little town again. And if I have come 
 here now, it is because the place lies on my way to 
 Trovatn, up in the hills. 
 
 All is as it was before here now, save for thin ice 
 on the river above and below the rapids, and snow 
 on the ice again. 
 
 I take care to buy clothes and equipment here in 
 the town, and, having got a good pair of new shoes, I 
 take my old ones to the cobbler to be half-soled. The 
 cobbler is inclined to talk, and begs me to sit down. 
 'And where's this man from, now?" he asks. In 
 a moment I am enveloped by the spirit of the town. 
 
 I walk up to the churchyard. Here, too, care has 
 been taken to provide equipment for the winter. 
 Bundles of straw have been fastened round plants and 
 bushes ; many a delicate monument is protected by a 
 tall wooden hood. And the hoods again armoured 
 with a coat of paint. As if some provident soul had 
 thought: Well, now, I have this funeral monument 
 here; with proper care it may be made to last for 
 generations ! 
 
 There is a Christmas Fair on, too, and I stroll along 
 to see. Here are ski and toboggans, butter scoops 
 and log chairs from the underworld, rose-coloured 
 mittens, clothes' rollers, foxes' skins. And here are 
 horse-dealers and drovers mingling with drunken folk 
 from up the valley. Jews there are, too, anxious to 
 palm off a gaudy watch or so, for all there is no money
 
 298 WANDERERS 
 
 in the town. And the watches come from that country 
 up in the Alps, where Bocklin did not come from ; 
 where nothing and nobody ever came from. 
 
 But in the evening there is brave entertainment for 
 all. Two dancing-halls there are, and the music is 
 supplied by masters on the hardingfele, and wonderful 
 music it is, to be sure. There are iron strings to it, 
 and it utters no empty phrases, but music with a sting 
 in its tail. It acts differently upon different people : 
 some find it rich in national sweetness ; some of us 
 are rather constrained to grit our teeth and howl in 
 melancholy wise. Never was stinging music delivered 
 with more effect. 
 
 The dance goes on. 
 
 In one of the intervals the schoolmaster sings 
 touching verses about an 
 
 "ag-ed mother, worn with toil 
 And sweating as 'twere blood. ..." 
 
 But some of the wild youths insist on dancing and 
 nothing else. What's this ! Start singing, when 
 they're standing here with the girls all ready to dance 
 it's not proper ! The singer stops, and meets the 
 protest in broadest dialect: What? Not proper? 
 Why, it's by Vinje himself! Heated discussion, pro 
 and contra, arguing and shouting. Never were verses 
 sung with more effect. 
 
 The dance goes on. 
 
 The girls from the valley are armoured five layers 
 thick, but who cares for that ! All are used to hard 
 work. And the dance goes on ay, the thunder goes 
 on. Brcendevin helps things bravely along. The 
 witches' cauldron is fairly steaming now. At three in 
 the morning the local police force appears, and knocks 
 on the floor with his stick. Finis. The dancers go off 
 in the moonlight, and spread out near and far. And
 
 WANDERERS 299 
 
 nine months later, the girls from the valley show proof 
 that after all they were one layer of armour short. 
 Never was such an effect of being one layer short. 
 
 The river is quieter now not much of a river to look 
 at : the winter is come upon it now. It drives the mills 
 and works that stand on its banks, for, in spite of all, 
 it is and will be a great river still, but it shows no life. 
 It has shut down the lid on itself. 
 
 And the rapids have suffered, too. And I who stood 
 watching them once and listening, and thought to 
 myself if one lived down there in the roar of it for ever, 
 what would one's brain be like at last ? But now the 
 rapids are dwindled, and murmur faintly. It would be 
 shame to call it a roar. Herregud! 'tis no more than 
 a ruin of what it was. Sunk into poverty, great rocks 
 thrust up all down the channel, with here and there 
 a stick of timber hung up thwart and slantwise ; one 
 could cross dry-shod by way of stick and stone. 
 
 I have done all I have to do in the town, and my 
 pack is on my shoulders. It is Sunday, and a fine 
 clear day. 
 
 I look in at the hotel, to see the porter ; he is going 
 with me a bit of the way up the river. The great 
 good-hearted fellow offers to carry my things as if 
 I could not carry them myself. 
 
 We go up along the right bank, but the road itself 
 lies on the left ; the way we are taking is only a 
 summer path, trodden only by the lumbermen, and 
 with some few fresh tracks in the snow. My com- 
 panion cannot make out why we do not follow the 
 road : he was always dull of wit ; but I have been up 
 this path twice before these last few days, and I am 
 going up it once again. It is my own tracks we can 
 see all the time. 
 
 I question him :
 
 300 WANDERERS 
 
 "That lady you told me about once the one that 
 was drowned was it somewhere about here ? " 
 
 "Eh? Oh, the one that fell in! Yes. Ay, it was 
 close by here. Dreadful it was. There must have 
 been twenty of us here, with the police, searching 
 about." 
 
 " Dragging the channel ? " 
 
 "Yes. We got out planks and ladders, but they 
 broke through under us ; we cut up all the ice in the 
 end. Here" he stopped suddenly "you can see 
 the way we went." 
 
 I can see the dark space where the boats had 
 moved out and broken through the ice to drag the 
 depth ; it was frozen over again now. 
 
 The porter goes on : 
 
 "We found her at last. And a mercy it was, I 
 dare say, the river was low as it was. Gone right 
 down at once, she had, and got stuck fast between 
 two stones. There was no current to speak of; if it 
 had been spring, now, she'd have travelled a long 
 way down." 
 
 " Trying to cross to the other side, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Ay. They're always getting out on the ice as 
 soon as it comes ; a nasty way it is. Somebody had 
 been over already, but that was two days before. She 
 just came walking down on this side where we are, 
 and the engineer, he was coming down the road on the 
 other side he'd been out on his bicycle somewhere. 
 Then they caught sight of each other and waved or 
 made a sign or something, for they were cousins or 
 something, both of them. Then the lady must have 
 mistaken him somehow, the engineer says, and thought 
 he was beckoning, for she started to come across. He 
 shouted at her not to, but she didn't hear, and he'd [got 
 his bicycle and couldn't move, but, anyhow, someone 
 had got across before. The engineer told the police
 
 WANDERERS 30 1 
 
 all about how it happened, and it was written down, 
 every word. Well, and then when she's half-way 
 across, she goes down. A rotten piece of ice it must 
 have been where she trod. And the engineer, he 
 comes down like lightning on his bicycle through the 
 town and up to the hotel and starts ringing. I never 
 heard the like, the way he rang. < There's someone in 
 the river ! ' he cries out. My cousin's fallen in ! ' Out 
 we went, and he came along with us. We'd ropes and 
 boat-hooks, but that was no use. The police came 
 soon after, and the fire brigade ; they got hold of a 
 boat up there and carried it between them till they got 
 to us ; then they got it out and started searching about 
 with the drag. We didn't find her the first day, but 
 the day after. Ay, a nasty business, that it was." 
 " And her husband came, you said. The Captain ? " 
 ; 'Yes, the Captain, he came. And you can reckon 
 for yourself the state he was in. And we were all the 
 same, for that matter, all the town was. The engineer, 
 he was out of his senses for a long while, so they told 
 us at the hotel, and when the Captain arrived, the 
 engineer went off inspecting up the river, just because 
 he couldn't bear to talk any more about it." 
 ' So the Captain didn't see him, then? " 
 " No. H'm ! Nay, I don't know,".^aid the porter, 
 looking around. No, I don't know anything about 
 that no." 
 
 His answer was so confused, it was evident that he 
 did know. But it was of no importance, and I did not 
 question him again. 
 
 "Well, thanks for coming up with me," I said, and 
 shared a little money with him for a winter wrap or 
 something of the sort. And I took leave of him, and 
 wanted him to turn back. 
 
 He seemed anxious, however, to go on with me a 
 ttle farther. And, to get me to agree, he suddenly
 
 302 WANDERERS 
 
 confesses that the Captain had seen the engineer while 
 he was here yes. The porter, good foolish creature, 
 had understood enough of the maids' gossip in the 
 kitchen to make out that there was something wrong 
 about the engineer and this cousin of his who had 
 come to stay ; more than this, however, he had not 
 seen. But, as regards the meeting between the two 
 men, it was he himself who had acted as guide to the 
 Captain on his way up to find the engineer. 
 
 " He said he must find him, and so we went up 
 together. And the Captain, he asked me on the way, 
 what could there be to inspect up the river now it was 
 frozen over? And I couldn't see myself, I told him. 
 And so we walked up all day to about three or four in 
 the afternoon. ' We might see if he's not in the hut 
 here,' I said, for I'd heard the lumbermen used the 
 place. Then the Captain wouldn't let me go on with 
 him any farther, but told me to wait. And he walked 
 up to the hut by himself, and went in. He'd not been 
 in the place more than a bare couple of minutes, when 
 out he comes, and the engineer with him. There was 
 a word or so between them I didn't hear ; then all of 
 a sudden the Captain flings up one arm like that, and 
 lands out at the engineer, and down he goes. Lord ! 
 but he must have felt it pretty badly. And not content 
 with that, he picks him up and lands out at him again 
 as hard as before. Then he came back to me and said 
 we'd be going home." 
 
 I grew thoughtful at this. It seemed strange that 
 this porter, a creature who bore no grudge or ill-will to 
 anyone, should leave the engineer up there at the hut 
 without aid. And he had shown no disapproval in his 
 telling of the thrashing. The engineer must have been 
 miserly with him, too, I thought, and never paid him 
 for his services, but only ordered him about and laughed 
 at him, puppy that he was. That would be it, no
 
 WANDERERS 303 
 
 doubt. And this time, perhaps, I was not misled by 
 jealous feelings of my own. 
 
 "But the Captain he was free with his money, if 
 you like," said the porter at last. " I paid off all my 
 owings with what he gave me ay, indeed I did." 
 
 When at last I had got rid of the man, I crossed the 
 river; the ice was firm enough. I was on the main 
 road now. And I walked on, thinking over the porter's 
 story. That scene at the hut what did it amount to, 
 after all ? It merely showed that one of the two men 
 was big and strong, the other a little, would-be sports- 
 man heavily built behind. But the Captain was an 
 officer it was something of that sort, perhaps, he had 
 been thinking. Perhaps he ought to have thought a 
 little more in other ways while there was yet time who 
 can say? It was his wife who had been drowned. 
 The Captain might do what he pleased now ; she would 
 never come again. 
 
 But if she did, what then? She was born to her 
 fate, no doubt. Husband and wife had tried to patch 
 up the damage, but had failed. I remember her as she 
 was six or seven years back. She found life dull, and 
 fell in love a trifle here and there perhaps, even then 
 but she was faithful and delicate-minded. And time 
 went on. She had no occupation, but had three maid- 
 servants to her house ; she had no children, but she 
 had a piano. But she had no children. 
 
 And Life can afford to waste. 
 
 Mother and child it was that went down.
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 A WANDERER plays with muted strings when 
 he comes to fifty years. Then he plays with 
 muted strings. 
 
 Or I might put it this way. 
 
 If he comes too late for the harvest of berries in 
 autumn, why, he is come too late, that is all ; and if 
 one fine day he finds he can no longer be gay and 
 laugh all over his face in delight of life, 'tis because he 
 is old, no doubt ; blame him not for that ! And there 
 can be no doubt that it requires a certain vacuity of 
 mind to go about feeling permanently contented with 
 oneself and all else. But we have all our softer 
 moments. A prisoner is being driven to the scaffold 
 in a cart. A nail in the seat irks him ; he shifts aside 
 a little, and feels more at ease. 
 
 A Captain should not pray that God may forgive him 
 as he forgives his God. It is simply theatrical. A 
 wanderer who cannot reckon every day on food and 
 drink, clothes and boots, and house and home, feels 
 just the right degree of privation when all these luxuries 
 are lacking. If you cannot manage one way, why, 
 there will be another. But if the other way should 
 also fail, then one does not forgive one's God, but 
 takes up the responsibility oneself. Shoulder against 
 what comes that is, bow to it. A trifle hard for 
 flesh and blood, and it greys a man's hair sadly. 
 But a wanderer thanks God for life ; it was good 
 to live!
 
 WANDERERS 3 o 5 
 
 I might put it that way. 
 
 For why these high demands on life? What hav* 
 we earned? All the boxes of sweetmeats a sweet 
 tooth could wish for? Well and good. But Tave 
 we not had the world to look upon each day, and 
 the soughmg of the woods to hear? There is nothing 
 
 wood" m aU the W rld aS that V ice 
 
 There was a scent of jasmine in a shrubbery, and one 
 I know thnlled with joy, not for the jasmines' seen"! 
 but for all there was-for the light in a window a 
 memo,* the whole of life. He wi called awayfrom 
 
 but he had been paid 
 
 And so it is ; the mere grace that we are given life 
 at a generous payment in advance for all the miseries 
 life for every one of them. 
 No, do not think we have the right to more sweet- 
 
 at anyone who can be so comical. I remember e 
 
 fire Thi T *** "" ""' " hiS '" He S ' arted ' *V* 
 in his stove at noon, and by evening he got it to 
 
 leave 
 
 ed 
 
 bed, but sat there till other people got up, lest 
 
 WaSted ' A N rWegian ^ f - 
 I have wandered about a good deal in my time and 
 
 n hTnT, 00 " Sh n W ' and Ut of blo - But I do 
 not hold the perverse belief of old men 
 
 vse t ow 
 
 Ufc ft is n a t S r deCrepitude - If I 'hank God for 
 
 te, ,1 ,s not by v.rtue of any riper wisdom that ha- 
 come to me with age, but because I have a,ways take"
 
 306 WANDERERS 
 
 a pleasure in life. Age gives no riper wisdom ; age 
 gives nothing but age. 
 
 I was too late for the berries this year, but I am 
 going up that way all the same. I am allowing myself 
 this little treat, by way of reward for having worked 
 well this summer. And 1 reached my goal on the I2th 
 of December. 
 
 It is true, no doubt, that I might have stayed down 
 among the villages. I could have managed somehow, 
 no doubt, as did all the others who had found it time 
 to settle down. And Lars Falkenberg, my colleague 
 and mate, he had urged me to take up a holding with 
 keep for a wife and two cows and a pig. A friend's 
 advice ; vox populi. And then, why, one of the cows 
 might be an ox to ride, a means of transport for my 
 shivering age ! But it came to naught it came to 
 naught ! My wisdom has not come with age ; here am 
 I going up to Trovatn and the waste lands to live in a 
 wooden hut ! 
 
 What pleasure can there be in that? At, Lars Fal- 
 kenberg, and ai, everyone else, have no fear ; I have a 
 man to come up with things I need. 
 
 So I drift about and about by myself, looking after 
 myself, living alone. I miss that seal of Bishop Pavel's. 
 One of his descendants gave it to me, and I had it in 
 my waistcoat pocket this summer, but, looking for it 
 now, I find I have lost it. Well, well ; but, anyhow, I 
 have been paid in advance for that mishap, in having 
 owned it once. 
 
 But I do not feel the want of books to read. 
 
 The 1 2th of December I can keep a date in mind, 
 and carelessly forget things more important. It is 
 only just now I remember about the books that Captain 
 Falkenberg and his wife had many books in their
 
 WANDERERS 307 
 
 house novels and plays a whole bookcase full. I 
 saw it one day when I was painting windows and doors 
 at 0vreb0. Whole series of authors they had, and 
 authors' whole series thirty books. Why the whole 
 series ? I do not know. Books one, two, three, ten, 
 thirty. They had come out each Christmas novels, 
 thirty volumes the same novel. They read them, no 
 doubt, the Captain and his wife ; knew every time what 
 they should find in the poets of the home ; there was 
 always such a lot about all coming right in the end. 
 So they read them, no doubt. How should I know? 
 Heavens, what a host of books ! Two men could not 
 shift the bookcase when I wanted to paint behind ; it 
 took three men and a cook to move it. One of the 
 men was Grindhusen ; he flushed under the weight of 
 those poets of the home, and said: "I can't see what 
 folk want with such a mighty crowd of books ! " 
 
 Grindhusen ! As if he knew anything about it ! The 
 Captain and his wife had all those books, no doubt, 
 that none should be lacking; there they were all 
 complete. It would make a gap to take away a single 
 one; they were paired each with the rest, uniform 
 poetry, the same story throughout. 
 
 An elk-hunter has been up here with me in the hut. 
 Nothing much ; and his dog was an ill-tempered brute. 
 I was glad when he went on again. He took down 
 my copper saucepan from the wall, and used it for his 
 cooking, and left it black with soot. 
 
 It is not my copper saucepan, but was here in the 
 hut, left by someone who was here before. I only 
 rubbed it with ashes and hung it up on the wall as a 
 weather-guide for myself. I am rubbing it up again 
 now, for it is a good thing to have; it turns dim 
 unfailingly when there is rain or snow coming on. 
 
 If Ragnhild had been here, now, she would have
 
 308 WANDERERS 
 
 polished up that saucepan herself. But then, again, 1 
 tell myself, I would rather see to my own weather- 
 guides ; Ragnhild can find something else to do. And 
 if this place up in the woods were our clearing, then 
 she would have the children, and the cows, and the 
 pig. But my copper things I prefer to do myself, 
 Ragnhild. 
 
 I remember a lady, the mistress of a house : she 
 did no work at all, and saw to nothing, least of all to 
 herself. And ill she fared in the end. But six or seven 
 years back I had never believed anyone could be so 
 delicate and lovely to another as she. I drove her once, 
 upon a journey, and she was shy with me, although 
 she was a lady, and above me. She blushed and 
 looked down. And the strange thing was that she 
 made me feel a kind of shyness myself, although I was 
 only her servant. Only by looking at me with her two 
 eyes when she spoke to me, she showed me treasures 
 and beauty beyond what I knew before ; I remember it 
 still. Ay, here I sit, remembering it yet, and I shake 
 my head and say to myself how strange it was how 
 strange ! And then she died. And what more ? Nothing 
 more. I am still here, but she is gone. But I should 
 not grieve at her death. I had been paid beforehand, 
 surely, for that loss, in that she looked at me with her 
 two eyes a thing beyond my deserts. Ay, so it must be. 
 
 Woman what do the sages know of woman ? 
 
 I know a sage, and he wrote of woman. Wrote of 
 woman in thirty volumes of uniform theatre-poetry : I 
 counted the volumes once in a big bookcase. And at 
 last he wrote of the woman who left her own children 
 to go in search of the wonderful ! But what, then, 
 were the children ? Oh, it was comical : a wanderer 
 laughs at anything so comical. 
 
 What does the sage know of woman ? 
 
 To begin with, he was not a sage at all till he grew
 
 WANDERERS 309 
 
 old, and all he knew of woman then was from memory. 
 But then, again, he can have no memory of her, seeing 
 he never knew her. The man who has an aptitude for 
 wisdom busies himself jealously with his little aptitude 
 and nothing else ; cultivates and cherishes it ; holds it 
 forth and lives for it. We do not turn to woman for 
 wisdom. The four wisest heads in the world, who 
 have delivered their findings on the subject of woman, 
 simply sat and invented her out of their own heads- 
 octogenarians young or old they were, that rode on 
 oxen. They knew nothing of woman in holiness, 
 woman in sweetness, woman as an indispensable, but 
 they wrote and wrote about her. Think of it ! Without 
 finding her. 
 
 Heaven save me from growing wise! And I will 
 mumble the same to my last turn: Heaven save me 
 from growing wise ! 
 
 Just cold enough now for a little outing I have had in 
 mind : the snow-peaks lie rosy in the sun, and my 
 copper saucepan points to fair. It is eight in the 
 morning. 
 
 Knapsack and a good stock of food, an extra lashing 
 in my pocket in case anything should break, and a note 
 on the table for the man with supplies in case he should 
 come up while I am away. 
 
 Oh, but I have been showing off nicely all to myself: 
 pretending I was going far, and needed to equip 
 myself with care, had occasion for all my presence of 
 mind and endurance. A man can show off like that 
 when he is going far ; but I am not. I have no errand 
 anywhere, and nothing calls me ; I am only a wanderer 
 setting forth from a hut, and coming back to it again ; 
 it does not matter where I am. 
 
 It is quiet and empty in the woods ; all things deep 
 in snow, holding their breath as I come. At noon,
 
 310 WANDERERS 
 
 looking back from a hill, I can see Trovatn far behind ; 
 white and flat it lies, a stretch of chalk, a desert of 
 snow. After a meal I go on again, higher and higher, 
 nearing the fjeld now, but slowly and thoughtfully, 
 with hands in my pockets. There is no hurry ; I have 
 only to find a shelter for the night. Later on in the 
 afternoon I sit down again to eat, as if I needed a meal 
 and had earned it. But it is only for something to do ; 
 my hands are idle, and my brain inclined to fancies. 
 It gets dark early : well to find a sheltered cleft in the 
 hillside here ; there are fallen firs enough lying about 
 for a fire. 
 
 Such are the things I tell of now, playing with muted 
 strings. 
 
 I was out early next morning, as soon as it began to 
 get light. A quiet, warm snowfall came on, and there 
 was a soughing in the air. Bad weather coming, I 
 thought to myself; but who could have foreseen it? 
 Neither I nor my weather-guide looked for it twenty- 
 four hours ago. 
 
 I left my shelter and went on again over moor and 
 heath ; full day again now, and snowing. It was not 
 the best of shelters I had found for the night : passably 
 soft and dry, with branches of fir to lie on, and I had 
 not felt the cold, but the smoke from my fire drifted in 
 over me and troubled my breathing. 
 
 But now, this afternoon, I found a better place a 
 spacious and elegant cave with walls and roof complete. 
 Room here for me and my fire, and the smoke went up. 
 I nodded at this, and decided to settle down here, 
 though it was early yet, and still quite light ; I could 
 distinctly make out the hills and valleys and rocks on a 
 naked fjeld straight ahead some few hours' march away. 
 But I nodded, as if I had reached my goal, and set to 
 work gathering firewood and bedding for the night. 
 
 I felt so thoroughly at home here. It was not for
 
 WANDERERS 311 
 
 nothing- I nodded and took off my knapsack. "Was 
 this the place you were making for ? " I say, talking to 
 myself in jest. ' < Yes, " I answer. 
 
 The soughing in the air grew stronger ; it was not 
 snow that was falling now, but rain. Strange a great 
 wet rainfall down over the cave, over all the trees 
 outside, and yet it was the cold Christmas month- 
 December. A heat-wave had taken it into its head to 
 visit us. 
 
 It rained and rained that night, and there was a 
 soughing all through the trees outside. It was like 
 spring ; it filled my sleep at last with so rich an ease, 
 that I slept on sound and deep till it was broad day. 
 Ten o'clock. 
 
 The rain has ceased, but it is still warm. I sit 
 looking out of the cave, and listening to the bend and 
 whisper of the trees. Then a stone breaks loose on 
 the fjeld opposite ; it butts against a rock and brings 
 that down as well ; a few faint thuds are heard. Then 
 a rumble: I see what is happening, and the sound 
 echoes within me; the rock loosened other rocks, an 
 avalanche goes thundering down the mountain-side, 
 snow and earth and boulders, leaving a smoky cloud in 
 its wake. The stream of rubble seems in a living rage ; 
 t thrusts its way on, tearing down other masses with 
 it, crowding, pouring, pouring, fills up a chasm in the 
 valley and stops. The last few boulders settle slowly 
 to rest, and then no more ; the thunder over, there is 
 silence, and within myself is only a breathing as of a 
 slowly descending bass. 
 
 And so I sit once more, listening to the soughing of 
 the woods. Is it the beating of the ^Egean Sea that I 
 can hear, or the waters of Glimma? I grow weak with 
 listening ; memories well up within me from my life a 
 thousand joys, music, the glance of the eye flowers. 
 There is no splendour like the soughing of the woods ;
 
 3 1 2 WANDERERS 
 
 it is like swinging, rocking a madness ; Uganda, 
 Antananarivo, Honolulu, Atacama, Venezuela. 
 
 But it is all the years, no doubt, that make me so 
 weak, and my nerves that join in the sounds I hear. I get 
 up and stand by the fire to get over it ; now I think of 
 it, I feel I could talk to the fire a little, make a speech 
 to the dying fire. I am in a fire-proof house here, and 
 the acoustic conditions are good. H'm ! 
 
 Then the cave is darkened ; it is the elk-hunter again 
 with his dog. 
 
 It begins to freeze as I trudge along homeward to 
 my hut. The frost soon hardens the ground, moor 
 and heath, making it easy walking. I trudge along 
 slowly and carelessly, hands in my pockets. There is 
 no hurry now ; it matters little where I am. 
 
 PRINTED BY MORRISON AND GIBB LIMITED, EDINBURGH
 
 Other Works by KNUT HAMSUN 
 
 (Norwegian) 
 (NOBEL PRIZE, 1920) 
 
 Translated by W. WORSTER, M.A. 
 
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 THE MIRACLES OF 
 CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 By JOHANNES BUCHHOLTZ (Danish) 
 
 Translated by W. WORSTER, M.A. 
 
 Crown %vo Cloth 8s. 6d. net 
 
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 glad to meet him again ; for those who have not, there 
 is a pleasure in store.
 
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