Shallow Soil by Knut Hamsun

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Mrs. Hanka dried her eyes beneath her veil and walked on. When at last she
stood outside Tidemand's office she hesitated. Suppose he turned her out?
Perhaps he even knew where she had been?

A clerk told her that Tidemand was in.

She knocked and listened. He called: "Come in." She entered quietly. He
was standing at his desk; he put down his pen when he saw her.

"Pardon me if I disturb you," she said hurriedly.

"Not at all," he said, and waited. A pile of letters was before him; he
stood there, tall and straight; he did not look so very grey, and his eyes
were not so listless.

She took the bill out and held it toward him.

"I only wanted to return this; and please forgive me for asking for money
when I might have known that you must need it so badly. I never thought of
it until now; I am extremely sorry."

He looked at her in surprise and said:

"Not at all--you just keep that! A hundred more or less means nothing to
the business--nothing at all."

"Yes, but--please take it! I ask you to take it."

"All right, if you don't need it. I thank you, but it is not necessary."

He had thanked her! What a fortunate thing that she had the money and
could give it back to him! But she suppressed her agitation and said
"Thank you" herself as she shoved the bill over toward him. When she saw
him reach for his pen again, she said with a wan smile:

"You must not be impatient because of this long delay--I have made very
little progress in the matter of taking an apartment, but--"

She could control herself no longer; her voice broke entirely and she
turned away from him, fumbling for her handkerchief with trembling
fingers.

"There is no great hurry about that," he said. "Take all the time you
want."

"I thank you."

"You thank me? I don't quite understand. It isn't I who--I am simply
trying to make it easy for you to have your own way."

She was afraid she had irritated him, and she said hastily:

"Of course, yes! Oh, I didn't mean--Pardon me for disturbing you."

And she turned and fled out of the office.

III

Tidemand had not been idle a moment since the blow struck him. He was at
his desk early and late; papers, bills, notes, and certificates fluttered
around him, and his energy and skill brought order out of confusion as the
days went by. Ole Henriksen had supported him on demand; he had paid cash
for the country estate and had relieved him of several outstanding
obligations.

It was made clear that the firm did not have an impregnable fortune to
throw into the breach, even though it carried on such a far-reaching
business and although its transactions were enormous. And who had even
heard of such a crazily hazardous speculation as Tidemand's fatal plunge
in rye! Everybody could see that now, and everybody pitied or scorned him
according to his individual disposition. Tidemand let them talk; he
worked, calculated, made arrangements, and kept things going. True, he
held in storage an enormous supply of rye which he had bought too high:
but rye was rye, after all; it did not deteriorate or shrink into
nothingness; he sold it steadily at prevailing prices and took his losses
like a man. His misfortunes had not broken his spirits.

He now had to weather the last turn--a demand note from the American
brokers--and for this he required Ole Henriksen's assistance; after that
he hoped to be able to manage unaided. It was his intention to simplify
his business, to reduce it to original dimensions and then gradually
extend it as it should show healthy growth. He would succeed; his head was
still full of plans and he was resourceful as ever.

Tidemand gathered his papers together and went over to Ole's office. It
was Monday. They had both finished their mail and were momentarily
disengaged, but Tidemand had to make a call at the bank; he had arranged
an appointment at five.

As soon as Ole saw him he laid down his pen and arose to meet him. They
still celebrated their meetings in the usual manner; the wine and the
cigars appeared as before; nothing had changed. Tidemand did not want to
disturb; he would rather lend a hand if he could, but Ole refused
smilingly; he had absolutely nothing to do.

Well, Tidemand had brought his usual tale of woe. He was beginning to be a
good deal of a nuisance; he simply came to see Ole whenever there was
anything the matter....

Ole interrupted him with a merry laugh.

"Whatever you do, don't forget to apologise every time!"

Ole signed the papers and said:

"How are things coming out?"

"Oh, about as usual. One day at a time, you know."

"Your wife hasn't moved as yet?"

"Not yet--no. I imagine she has a hard time finding a suitable apartment.
Well, that is her lookout. What I want to say--how is Miss Aagot?"

"All right, I guess; she is out walking. Irgens called for her."

Pause.

Ole said: "You still have all your help?"

"Well, you see, I couldn't fire them all in a minute; they have to have
time to look around for something else. But they are leaving soon; I am
only going to keep one man in the office."

They discussed business matters for a while. Tidemand had ground up a
large quantity of his grain in order to accelerate the sales; he sold and
lost, but he raised money. There was no longer any danger of a
receivership. He had also a little idea, a plan which had begun to ferment
in his brain; but he would rather not mention it until it had been
developed a little more fully. One did not stand knee-deep in schemes day
in and day out without occasionally stumbling over an idea. Suddenly he
said:

"If I could be sure of not offending you I should like to speak to you
about something that concerns yourself only--I don't want to hurt your
feelings, but I have thought a good deal about it. Hm; it is about
Irgens--You should not allow Aagot to go out so much. Miss Aagot walks a
good deal with him lately. It would be all right if you were along; of
course, it is perfectly right as it is--that she should take a walk
occasionally, but--Well, don't be angry because I mention this."

Ole looked at him with open mouth, then he burst out laughing.

"But, friend Andreas, what do you mean? Since when did _you_ begin to
look at people distrustfully?"

Tidemand interrupted him brusquely.

"I only want to tell you that I have never been in the habit of carrying
gossip."

Ole looked at him steadily. What could be the matter with Tidemand? His
eyes had become cold and steely; he put down his glass hard. Gossip? Of
course not. Tidemand did not carry gossip, but his mind must have become
affected.

"Well, you may be right if you mean that this kind of thing may lead to
unpleasant comment, to gossip," Ole said finally. "I really have not given
it a thought, but now you mention it--I will give Aagot a hint the first
opportunity I have."

Nothing further was said on the subject; the conversation swung back to
Tidemand's affairs.

How was it--did he still take his meals in restaurants?

He did for the present. What else could he do? He would have to stick to
the restaurants for a while, otherwise the gossips would finish poor Hanka
altogether. People would simply say that she was to blame if he hadn't
kept house the last few years; no sooner had she departed than Tidemand
again went to housekeeping and stayed at home. Nobody knew what
construction might be put on such things; Hanka did not have too many
friends. Tidemand laughed at the thought that he was fooling the
slanderous tongues so capitally. "She came to see me a couple of days ago;
I was in my office. I thought at first it was some bill-collector, some
dun or other, who knocked at my door; but it was Hanka. Can you guess what
she wanted? She came to give me a hundred crowns! She had probably saved
the money. Of course, you might say that it really was my own money; you
_might_ say that. Still, she could have kept it; but she knew I was a
little pinched--She hasn't gone out at all the last few days; I am at a
loss to know how she is keeping alive. I don't see her, but the maid says
she eats in her room sometimes. She is working, too; she is busy all the
time."

"It wouldn't surprise me at all to see her stay with you. Things may turn
out all right yet."

Tidemand glanced at his friend sharply.

"You believe that? Wasn't it you who once said that I was no glove to be
picked up or thrown away according to some one's fancy? Well, she has
probably no more thought of coming back than I have of accepting her."

And Tidemand rose quickly and said good-bye; he was going to the bank and
had to hurry.

Ole remained lost in contemplation; Tidemand's fate had made him
thoughtful. What had become of Aagot? She had promised to be back in an
hour, and it was much more than two hours since she had left. Of course,
it was all right to take a walk, but.... Tidemand was right. Tidemand had
his own thoughts, he had said; what could he have meant? Suddenly a
thought struck Ole--perhaps Irgens was the destroyer of Tidemand's home,
the slayer of his happiness? A red tie? Didn't Irgens use a red tie once?

Suddenly Ole understood Tidemand's previous significant remark about the
danger of boat-rides in May. Well, well! Come to think of it, Aagot
_had_ really seemed to lose the desire to be with him in the office
early and late; instead, she took a good many walks in good company; she
wanted to view things and places in this good company.... Hadn't she once
expressed a regret that he was not a poet? Still, she had apologised for
that remark with such sweet and regretful eagerness; it was a thoughtless
jest. No; Aagot was innocent as a child; still, for his sake, she might
refuse an occasional invitation from Irgens....

Another long hour went by before Aagot returned. Her face was fresh and
rosy, her eyes sparkling. She threw her arms around Ole's neck; she always
did that when she had been with Irgens. Ole's misgivings dissolved and
vanished in this warm embrace; how could he reproach her now? He only
asked her to stay around the house a little more--for his sake. It was
simply unbearable to be without her so long; he could do nothing but think
of her all the time.

Aagot listened quietly to him; he was perfectly right; she would remember.

"And perhaps I might as well ask another favour of you: please try to
avoid Irgens's company a little more, just a little more. I don't mean
anything, you know; but it would be better not to give people the least
cause for talk. Irgens is my friend, and I am his, but--Now, don't mind
what I have said--"

She took his head in both her hands and turned his face toward her. She
looked straight into his eyes and said:

"Do you doubt that I love you, Ole?"

He grew confused; he was too close to her. He stammered and took a step
backward.

"Love me? Ha, ha, you silly girl! Did you think I was chiding you? You
misunderstood me; I thought only of what people might say; I want to
protect you from gossip. But it is silly of me; I should have said
nothing--you might even take it into your head to avoid going out with
Irgens in the future! And that would never do; then people would surely
begin to wonder. No; forget this and act as if nothing had been said;
really, Irgens is a rare and a remarkable man."

However, she felt the need of explaining matters: she went just as gladly
with anybody else as with Irgens; it had only happened that he had asked
her. She admired him; she would not deny that, and she was not alone in
that; she pitied him a little, too; imagine, he had applied for a subsidy
and had been refused! She felt sorry for him, but that was all....

"Say no more about it!" cried Ole. "Let everything remain as it is--" It
was high time to think a little of the wedding; it was not too early to
make definite arrangements. As soon as he returned from that trip to
England he would be ready. And he thought it would be best for her to go
home to Torahus while he was away; when everything was in order he would
come up for her. Their wedding trip would have to be postponed until
spring; he would be too busy until then.

Aagot smiled happily and agreed to everything. A vague, inexplicable wish
had sprung up within her: she would have liked to remain in the city until
he should return from England; then they could have gone to Torahus
together. She did not know when or where this strange desire had been born
in her, and it was, for that matter, not sufficiently clear or definite to
be put in words; she would do as Ole wished. She told Ole to make haste
and return; her eyes were open and candid; she spoke to him with one arm
on his shoulder and the other resting on the desk.

And he had presumed to give _her_ a hint!

IV

Over a week went by before Irgens turned up again. Had he become
suspicious? Or had he simply tired of Aagot? However, he entered Ole's
office one afternoon; the weather was clear and sunny, but it was blowing
hard and the dust whirled through the streets in clouds and eddies. He was
in doubt whether Miss Aagot would want to go out on such a day, and for
this reason he said at once:

"It is a gloriously windy day, Miss Aagot; I should like to take you up on
the hills, up to the high places! You have never seen anything like it;
the town is shrouded in dust and smoke."

At any other time Ole would have said no; it was neither healthy nor
enjoyable to be blown full of dust. But now he wanted to show Aagot that
he was not thinking of their recent conversation.... Certainly; run
along! Really, she ought to take this walk.

And Aagot went.

"It is an age since I have seen you," said Irgens.

"Yes," she said, "I am busy nowadays. I am going home soon."

"You are?" he asked quickly and stopped.

"Yes. I am coming back, though."

Irgens had become thoughtful.

"I am afraid it is blowing a little too hard, after all," he said. "We can
hardly hear ourselves think. Suppose we go to the Castle Park? I know a
certain place--"

"As you like," she said.

They found the place; it was sheltered and isolated. Irgens said:

"To be entirely candid, it was not my intention to drag you up into the
hills to-day. The truth of the matter is that I was afraid you would not
care to come; that is the reason I said what I said. For I _had_ to
see you once more."

Pause.

"Really--I have ceased to wonder at anything you say."

"But think--it is ten days since I have seen you! That is a long, a very
long time."

"Well--that is not altogether my fault--But don't let us talk about it any
more," she added quickly. "Rather tell me--why do you still act toward me
in this manner? It is wrong of you. I have told you that before. I should
like to be friends with you, but--"

"But no more. I understand. However, that is hardly sufficient for one who
is distracted with suffering, you know. No, you do not know; you have
never known. Ever and ever one must circle around the forbidden; it
becomes a necessity continually to face one's fate. If, for instance, I
had to pay for a moment like this with age-long wreck and ruin, why, I
would gladly pay the price. I would rather be with you here one brief
moment, Miss Aagot, than live on for years without you."

"Oh, but--It is too late now, you know. Why talk about it, then? You only
make it so much harder for us both."

He said, slowly and emphatically:

"No, it is not too late."

She looked at him steadily and rose to her feet; he, too, got up; they
walked on. Immersed in their own thoughts, without conscious realisation
of what they were doing, walking slowly, they made the circuit of the park
and returned to their sheltered nook. They sat down on the same bench.

"We are walking in a circle," he said. "That is the way I am circling
around you."

"Listen," she said, and her eyes were moist, "this is the last time I
shall be with you, probably. Won't you be nice? I am going home, you know,
very soon now."

But just as he was preparing to answer her out of the fullness of his
heart somebody had to pass their seat. It was a lady. In one hand she
carried a twig with which she struck her skirt smartly for every step she
took. She approached them slowly; they saw that she was young. Irgens knew
her; he got up from his seat, took off his hat, and bowed deeply.

And the lady passed blushingly by.

Aagot asked:

"Who was that?"

"Only my landlady's daughter," he said. "You told me to be nice. Yes,
dearest--"

But Aagot wanted further information concerning this lady. So they lived
in the same house? What was she doing? What kind of a person was his
landlady?

And Irgens answered her fully. Just as if she were a child whose curiosity
had been aroused by the merest chance occurrence, Aagot made him tell her
everything he knew concerning these strange people in Thranes Road No. 5.
She wondered why the lady had blushed; why Irgens had greeted her so
obsequiously. She did not know that this was the way Irgens always paid
his rent--by being particularly gracious to his landlady's family on the
street.

The young lady was good-looking, although she had a few freckles. She was
really pretty when she blushed; didn't he think so?

And Irgens agreed; she was pretty. But she didn't have one only dimple;
there was only one who had that....

Aagot glanced at him quickly; his voice thrilled her; she closed her eyes.
The next instant she felt that she was bending toward him, that he kissed
her. Neither spoke; all her fears were lulled; she ceased to struggle and
rested deliciously in his arms.

And nobody disturbed them. The wind soughed through the trees; it hushed
and soothed.... Somebody came along; they rushed apart and kept their eyes
on the gravelled walk while he passed. Aagot was quite equal to the
occasion; she did not show the slightest trace of confusion. She got up
and began to walk away. And now she began to think; the tears were
dripping from her long lashes, and she whispered, dully, despairingly:

"God forgive me! What have I done?"

Irgens wanted to speak, to say something that would soften her despair. It
had happened because it had to happen. He was so unspeakably fond of her;
she surely knew he was in earnest.... And he really looked as if he were
greatly in earnest.

But Aagot heard nothing; she walked on, repeating these desperate words.
Instinctively she took the way down toward the city. It seemed as if she
were hurrying home.

"Dearest Aagot, listen a moment--"

She interrupted violently:

"Be quiet, will you!"

And he was silent.

Just as they emerged from the park a violent gust tore her hat from her
hair. She made an effort to recover it, but too late; it was blown back
into the park. Irgens caught up with it as it was flattened against a
tree.

She stood still for a moment; then she, too, began to run in pursuit, and
when at last they met by the tree her despair was less poignant. Irgens
handed her the hat, and she thanked him. She looked embarrassed.

As they were walking down the sloping driveway toward the street the wind
made Aagot turn and walk backward a few steps. Suddenly she stopped. She
had discovered Coldevin; he was walking through the park in the direction
of Tivoli. He walked hurriedly, furtively, and as if he did not want to be
seen. So he was still in the city!

And Aagot thought in sudden terror: What if he has seen us! As in a flash
she understood. He was coming from the park; he had wanted to wait until
they should have had time to reach the street; then the accident with her
hat had spoiled his calculations and made him show himself too soon. How
he stooped and squirmed! But he could find no hiding-place on this open
driveway.

Aagot called to him, but the wind drowned her voice. She waved her hand,
but he pretended not to see it; he did not bow. And without another word
to Irgens she ran after him, down the slope. The wind blew her skirts to
her knees; she grabbed her hat with one hand and ran. She caught up with
him by the first cross-street.

He stopped and greeted her as usual--awkwardly, with an expression of
melancholy gladness, moved in every fibre of his being. He was miserably
dressed.

"You--You must not come here and spy on me," she said hoarsely, all out of
breath. She stood before him, breathing hard, angry, with flashing eyes.

His lips parted but he could not speak; he did not know which way to turn.

"Do you hear me?"

"Yes--Have you been sick, perhaps? You haven't been out for two weeks now;
of course, I don't _know_ that you haven't, but--"

His helpless words, his wretched embarrassment, moved her; her anger died
down, she was again on the verge of tears, and, deeply humiliated, she
said:

"Dear Coldevin, forgive me!"

She asked him to forgive her! He did not know what to say to this, but
answered abstractedly:

"Forgive you? We won't speak about that--But why are you crying? I wish I
hadn't met you--"

"But I am glad I met you," she said. "I wanted to meet you; I think of you
always, but I never see you--I long for you often."

"Well, we won't speak about that, Miss Aagot. You know we have settled our
affair. I can only wish you every happiness, every possible happiness."

Coldevin had apparently regained his self-control; he commenced even to
speak about indifferent matters: Was not this a fearful storm? God knew
how the ships on the high seas were faring!

She listened and answered. His composure had its effect on her, and she
said quietly:

"So you are still in the city. I shall not ask you to come and see me;
that would be useless. Ole and I both wanted to ask you to come with us on
a little excursion, but you could not be found."

"I have seen Mr. Henriksen since then. I explained that I was engaged that
Sunday anyway. I was at a party, a little dinner--So everything is well
with you?"

"Yes, thanks."

Again she was seized with fear. What if he had been in the park and seen
everything? She said as indifferently as she could: "See how the trees are
swaying in the park! I suppose, though, there must be sheltered places
inside."

"In the park? I don't know. I haven't been there--But your escort is
waiting for you; isn't it Irgens?"

Thank God, she was saved! He had not been in the park. She heard nothing
else. Irgens was getting tired of this waiting, but she did not care. She
turned again to Coldevin.

"So you have seen Ole since the excursion? I wonder why he hasn't
mentioned it to me."

"Oh, he cannot remember everything. He has a lot to think of, Miss Aagot;
a great deal. He is at the head of a big business; I was really surprised
when I saw how big it is. Wonderful! A man like him must be excused if he
forgets a little thing like that. If you would permit me to say a word, he
loves you better than anybody else! He--Please remember that! I wanted so
much to say this to you!"

These few words flew straight to her heart. In a flash she saw the image
of Ole, and she exclaimed joyously:

"Yes, it is true! Oh, when I think of everything--I am coming!" she called
to Irgens and waved her hand at him.

She said good-bye to Coldevin and left him.

She seemed to be in a great hurry; she asked Irgens to pardon her for
having kept him waiting, but she walked on rapidly.

"Why this sudden haste?" he asked.

"Oh, I must get home. What a nasty wind!"

"Aagot!"

She shot him a swift glance; his voice had trembled; she felt a warm glow
throughout her being. No, she couldn't make herself colder than she was;
her eyes drooped again and she leaned toward him; her arm brushed his
sleeve.

He spoke her name again with infinite tenderness, and she yielded.

"Give me a little time, please! Whatever shall I do? I will love you if
you will only let me alone now."

He was silent.

Finally they reached the last crossing. Ole Henriksen's house could be
seen in the distance. The sight of that house seemed to bring her to her
senses. Whatever could she have said? Had she promised anything? No, no,
nothing! And she said with averted eyes:

"That which has happened to-day--your having kissed me--I regret it; God
knows I do! I grieve over it--"

"Then pronounce the sentence!" he answered briskly.

"No, I cannot punish you, but I give you my hand in promise that I will
tell Ole if you ever dare do that again."

And she gave him her hand.

He took it, pressed it; he bent over it, and kissed it repeatedly,
defiantly, right below her own windows. Covered with confusion, she
finally succeeded in opening the door and escaping up the stairs.

V

Ole Henriksen received a telegram which hastened his departure for London.
For twenty-four hours he worked like a slave to get through--wrote and
arranged, called at the banks, instructed his clerks, gave orders to his
chief assistant, who was to be in charge during his absence. The Hull
steamer was loading; it was to sail in a couple of hours. Ole Henriksen
did not have any too much time.

Aagot went with him from place to place, sad and faithful. She was
labouring under suppressed emotion. She did not say a word so as not to
disturb him, but she looked at him all the time with moist eyes. They had
arranged that she should go home the next morning on the first train.

Old Henriksen shuffled back and forth, quiet and silent; he knew that his
son needed to hurry. Every once in a while a man would come up from the
dock with reports from the steamer; now there was only a shipment of
whale-oil to load, then she would start. It would take about
three-quarters of an hour. At last Ole was ready to say farewell. Aagot
only had to put on her wraps; she would stay with him to the last.

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