Wanderers by Knut Hamsun
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Knut Hamsun >> Wanderers
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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, waited 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 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 recognize 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, raining and snowing harder
than ever, and 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 recognized the rug. Unfortunately, there were lights in all the
windows, waiting her arrival.
In desperation I checked the horses a little before 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
tomorrow.... 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 delirium. That would
never do. I clench my teeth and jump up, get into my 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 ax 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 ax 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
tomorrow 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 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 Petter; 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 burst out laughing, relieved to find me ready with a
jest to the last....
Falkenberg goes out. I have time to laze a little, 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 his 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.
"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 my wet jacket over my
blouse, and am ready to start. But I sit down again.
Emma comes in: "_Varsaagod_; 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.
"Fruen's lying down with a headache. She sent her very good wishes."
"Come again!" said all the girls as I set off.
I walked away out of the place, with my sack under my arm. Then suddenly I
remembered the ax; Falkenberg 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 Ovrebo; 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 ax; Falkenberg had gone home. I found the
trees I had felled the night before, and laughed outright at the ghastly
looking stumps I had left. Falkenberg 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 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 realize 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
building. 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.
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 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 Petter's home was,
and I now made 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.
Petter 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; Petter has come home, but had
nothing to tell.
"Is all well at Ovrebo?"
"Ay, there's nothing wrong that I know of."
"Did you see them all before you left? The Captain, Fruen?"
"Yes."
"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. Petter'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 Petter came
home the entire family set to work reckoning out whether he had gotten his
full pay, and if he had lain sick at Ovrebo 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 today 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;
tomorrow 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 had put on his spectacles to
read the papers. Then some one coughs outside. "There's some one 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 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 answered. "I've a good long way to go
between now and Monday morning."
"Then perhaps we ought to have a parting glass tonight?"
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 tomorrow, 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 tomorrow?
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.
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, Petter said:
"You don't mean to say you're starting out tonight?"
"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! 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 Petter. "And that's too much;
you'll have to give him something 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 properly 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 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 sweethearts 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 plough-boys....
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 wasted a heap of money on the most useless trash? I must sell
that sewing-machine again now, and get some of it back.
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