Wanderers by Knut Hamsun

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Froken 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.

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 vicarage 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 company 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. [Footnote: The latter name has a
more distinguished sound than the native and rustic "Falkberget."]

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.

"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 something 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 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 bit 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 churchyard 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.

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 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."

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
each had 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 some one 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 next morning sound asleep.

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.

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 everywhere."

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 fellow. 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 spoke 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."

"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, Froken,
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 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 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 recommend...?"

"Ask the people at Ovrebo; Falkenberg's the name."

"_What_ 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 Falkenbergs at Ovrebo. 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 Falkenberg 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 could be better to make a new one altogether. We might do one
for unsurpassed proficiency in piano-tuning and put in the Christian name
as Leopold instead of Lars. [Footnote: Again substituting an aristocratic
for a rustic name.] There was no limit to what we could do in that way.

"Think that 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 certificates," 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."

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 criticizing the 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 some one 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'd 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?

"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 aimable_," I said gallantly,
and took off my cap.

Fruen turned round and stared at me in astonishment; 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."

"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 everywhere, and the crops in under cover. Even the
potato stalks had been carted away though there's many places where
they're left out till the snow comes. I could see nothing for us to do at
all. Evidently these people were well-to-do.

When it was getting towards evening, and Falkenberg 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
dragonflies 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....

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