Alf and Harald will recognise the Tellemark 'jente' girls."
They did not long remain in uncertainty on this subject; for scarcely
were they come to the dancing-ground, when two peasants in
Halling-jackets, and broad girdles round their waists, came dancing
towards them, whilst they sang with the others the following
peasant-song:
And I am bachelor, and am not roving;
And I am son unto Gulleig Boë;
And wilt thou be to me faithful and loving,
Then I will choose thee, dear maiden, for me.
Susanna recognised Harald in the young peasant, who thus singing gaily,
politely took her hand, and led her along the lively springing-dance,
which was danced to singing. Alette danced with her Alf, who bore
himself nobly as a Halling-youth.
Never had Susanna looked so well and so happy; but then neither had she
ever enjoyed such pleasure. The lovely evening; the tones of the music;
the life of the dance; Harald's looks, which expressed in a high degree
his satisfaction; the delighted happy faces which she saw around
her--never before had she thought life so pleasant! And nearly all
seemed to feel so too, and all swung round from the joy of their hearts;
silver buckles jingled, and shilling after shilling[14] danced down into
the little gaily painted Hardanger-fiddle, which was played upon with
transporting spirit by an old man, of an expressive and energetic
exterior.
After the first dance, people rested for a moment. They ate apples, and
drank Hardanger-ale out of silver cans. After this there rose an almost
universal cry, which challenged Harald and another young man who was
renowned for his agility and strength, to dance together a "lös
Halling." They did not require much persuasion, and stepped into the
middle of the circle, which enlarged itself, and closed around them.
The musician tuned his instrument, and with his head bowed upon his
breast, began to play with an expression and a life that might be called
inspired. It was one of the wild Maliserknud's most genial compositions.
Was it imagined with the army, in the bivouac under the free nightly
heaven, or in--"slavery," amid evil-doers? Nobody knows; but in both
situations has it charmed forth tones, like his own restless life, which
never will pass from the memory of the people. Now took the
Hardanger-fiddle for the first time its right sound.
Universal applause followed the dancing of the young men; but the
highest interest was excited by Harald, who, in the dance, awoke actual
astonishment.
Perhaps there is no dance which expresses more than the Halling the
temper of the people who originated it, which better reflects the life
and character of the inhabitants of the North.
It begins, as it were, upon the ground, amid jogging little hops,
accompanied by movements of the arms, in which, as it were, a great
strength plays negligently. It is somewhat bear-like, indolent, clumsy,
half-dreaming. But it wakes, it becomes earnest. Then the dancers rise
up and dance, and display themselves in expressions of power, in which
strength and dexterity seem to divert themselves by playing with
indolence and clumsiness, and to overcome them. The same person who just
before seemed fettered to the earth, springs aloft, and throws himself
around in the air as though he had wings. Then, after many break-neck
movements and evolutions, before which the unaccustomed spectator grows
dizzy, the dance suddenly assumes again its first quiet, careless,
somewhat heavy character, and closes, as it began, sunk upon the earth.
Loud shouts of applause, bestowed especially upon Harald, resounded on
all sides as the dance closed. And now they all set themselves in motion
for a great Halling-polska, and every "Gut" chose himself a "Jente."
Harald had scarcely refreshed and strengthened himself with a can of ale
before he again hastened up to Susanna, and engaged her for the
Halling-polska. She had danced it several times in her own country, and
joyfully accepted Harald's invitation.
This dance, too, is deeply characteristic. It paints the Northern
inhabitant's highest joy in life; it is the Berserker-gladness in the
dance. Supported upon the arm of the woman the man throws himself high
in the air; then he catches her in his arms, and swings round with her
in wild circles; then they separate; then they unite again, and
whirl again round, as it were, in superabundance of life and delight.
The measure is determined, bold, and full of life. It is a
dance-intoxication, in which people for the moment release themselves
from every care, every burden and oppression of existence.
Thus felt also at this time Harald and Susanna. Young, strong, agile,
they swung themselves around with certainty and ease, which seemed to
make the dance a sport without any effort; and with eyes steadfastly
riveted on each other, they had no sense of giddiness. They whirled
round, as it were, in a magic circle, to the strange magical music. The
understrings sounded strong and strange. The peculiar enchanted power
which lies in the clear deeps of the water, in the mysterious recesses
of the mountains, in the shades of dark caves, which the skalds have
celebrated under the names of mermaids, mountain-kings, and wood-women,
and which drag down the heart so forcibly into unknown, wondrous
deeps--this dark song of Nature is heard in the understrings[15] of the
Halling's playful, but yet at the same time melancholy, tones. It deeply
seized upon Susanna's soul, and Harald also seemed to experience this
enchantment: Leaving the wilder movements of the dance, they moved
around ever quieter, arm-in-arm.
"Oh, so through life!" whispered Harald's lips, almost involuntarily, as
he looked deep into Susanna's beaming, tearful eyes; and, "Oh, so
through life!" was answered in Susanna's heart, but her lips remained
closed. At this moment she was seized by a violent trembling, which
obliged her to come from dancing, and to sit down, whilst the whole
world seemed going round with her. It was not until she had drunk a
glass of water, which Harald offered to her, that she was able to reply
to his heartfelt and anxious inquiries after her health. Susanna
attributed it to the violent dancing, but declared that she felt herself
again quite well. At that moment Susanna's eyes encountered those of
Alette. She sate at a little distance from them, and observed Harald and
Susanna with a grave, and as it seemed to Susanna, a displeased look.
Susanna felt stung at the heart; and when Alette came to her, and asked
rather coldly how she found herself, she answered also coldly and
shortly.
The sun was going down, and the evening began to be cool. The company
was therefore invited by Harald to a commodious hut, decorated with
foliage and flowers. At Harald's desire, a young girl played now upon
the "langleg,"[16] and sung thereto with a clear lively voice the
Hallingdal song, "Gjetter-livet" (Shepherd-life), which so naïvely
describes the days of a shepherd-girl in the solitary dales with the
flocks, which she pastures and tends during the summer, without care,
and joyous of mood, although almost separated from her kind;--_almost_,
for Havor, the goatherd, blows his horn on the rocks in the
neighbourhood, and ere long sits beside her on the crags--
The boy with his jew's-harp charms the kine,
And plays upon the flute so fine,
And I sing this song of mine.
So approaches the evening, and "all my darlings," with "song and love,"
are called by their names;--
Come Laikeros, Gullstjerna fine;
Come Dokkerose, darling mine;
Come Bjölka, Qvittelin!
And cows and sheep come to the well-known voice, and assemble at the
Säter-hut, lowing and bleating joyfully. Now begins the milking; the
goatherd maiden sings--
When I have milked in these pails of mine,
I lay me down, and sleep divine,
Till day upon the cliffs doth shine.
After the song, the dancing began again with new spirit. An iron hook
was driven into the beam in the middle of the roof, and the dancer who,
during the whirl of the Halling-polska, succeeded in striking it with
his heel, so that it was bent, obtained the prize for dancing this
evening. Observing the break-neck efforts of the competitors, Susanna
seated herself upon a bench. Several large leafy branches which were
reared between the benches and window, prevented her from seeing two
persons who stood in quiet conversation, but she remained sitting, as if
enchanted, as she heard the voice of Alette, saying:
"Susanna is to be sure an excellent and good girl, and I really like
her; but yet, Harald, it would distress me if you seriously were
attached to her."
"And why?" asked Harald.
"Because I think that she would not be suitable for your wife. She has
an unreasonable and violent temper, and--"
"But that may be changed, Alette. She has already changed very much. Of
her violent temper I have no fear--that I should soon remove."
"Greater wizards than you, my brother, have erred in such a belief. At
the same time she is much too uneducated, too ignorant to be a suitable
companion for you through life. And neither would she be suitable for
the social circles into which you must sometime come. Best Harald! let
me beseech you, do not be over-hasty. You have so long thought of taking
a journey into foreign countries to improve your knowledge of
agriculture. Carry out this plan now; travel, and look about you in the
world before you fetter yourself for life."
"I fancy you are right, Alette; and I shall follow your advice, but----"
"Besides," said Alette, interrupting him in her zeal, "it is time enough
for you to think of marrying. You are still young; have time to look
about you, and choose. You can easily, if you will, in every point of
view, form a good connexion. Susanna is poor, and you yourself have not
wealth enough entirely to disregard----"
Susanna would hear no more; and, in truth, she had heard enough. Wounded
pride and sickness of heart drove the blood to her head and chest, till
she felt ready to be choked. She rose hastily, and after she had begged
an acquaintance to tell Alette and Harald that a mere headache compelled
her to leave the dance, she hurried by the wood-path back to Semb.
The evening was beautiful, but Susanna was blind to all its splendours;
she remarked not the twinkling of the bright stars, not how they
mirrored themselves in the ladies-mantle, which stood full of pure
crystal water; she heard not the rushing of the river, nor the song of
the pine-thrush; for never before, in her breast, had Barbra and Sanna
contended more violently.
"They despise me!" cried the former; "they cast me off, they trample me
under their feet. They think me not worthy to be near them; the haughty,
heartless people! But have they indeed a right to hold themselves so
much above me, because I am not so fine, so learned as they; because I
am--poor? No, that have they not, for I can earn my own bread, and go my
own way through the world as well as any of them. And if they will be
proud, then I can be ten times prouder. I need not to humble myself
before them! One is just as good as another!"
"Ah!" now began Sanna, and painful tears began to flow down her cheeks,
"one is not just as good as another, and education and training make a
great difference between people. It is not pleasant for a man to blush
for the ignorance of his wife; neither can one expect that anybody would
teach a person of my age; nor can they look into my heart and see how
willingly I would learn, and--and Harald, whom I thought wished me well,
whom I loved so much, whom I would willingly serve with my whole heart
and life--how coldly he spoke of me, who just before so warmly--Harald,
why shouldst thou fool my heart so, if thou carest so little for what it
feels, what it suffers?"
"But," and here again began Barbra, "thou thinkest merely on thyself;
thou art an egotist, like all thy sex. And he seems to be so sure of me!
He seems not to ask whether I will; no--only whether he graciously
should. Let him try! let him make the attempt! and he shall see that he
has deceived himself, the proud gentleman! He shall see that a poor
girl, without connexions, without friends, solitary in the wide world,
can yet refuse him who thinks that he condescends _so_ to her. Be easy,
Miss Alette! the poor despised Susanna is too proud to thrust herself
into a haughty family; because, in truth, she feels herself too good for
that."
But Susanna was very much excited, and very unhappy, as she said this.
She had now reached Semb. Lights streamed from the bedroom of the
Colonel's widow. Susanna looked up to the window, and stood in mute
astonishment; for at the window stood the Colonel's widow, but no longer
the gloomy, sorrowful lady. With her hands pressed upon her breast, she
looked up to the clear stars with an expression of glowing gratitude.
There was, however, something wild and overstrained in her appearance,
which made Susanna, who was possessed by astonishment and strange
feelings, determine to go to her immediately.
On Susanna's entrance into the room Mrs. Astrid turned hastily to her.
She held a letter clasped to her breast, and said with restless delight
and a kind of vehemence--
"To Bergen, to Bergen! Susanna, I set off to-morrow morning to Bergen.
Get all in readiness for my journey as soon as you can."
Susanna was confounded. "To Bergen?" stammered she, inquiringly; "and
the road thither is so difficult, so dangerous, at this time----"
"And if death threatened me upon it, I should yet travel!" said Mrs.
Astrid, with impatient energy. "But I desire that no one accompany me.
You can stay here at home."
"Lord God!" said Susanna, painfully excited, "I spoke not for myself.
Could I die to save my lady from any danger, any sorrow, heaven knows
that I would do it with joy! Let me go with you to Bergen."
"I have been very unhappy, Susanna!" resumed Mrs. Astrid, without
remarking her agitated state of mind; "life has been a burden to me. I
have doubted the justice of Providence; doubted whether our destinies
were guided by a fatherly hand; but now--now I see--now all may be very
different.--But go, Susanna, I must compose myself; and you also seem to
need rest. Go, my child."
"Only one prayer," said Susanna--"I may go with you to-morrow morning?
Ah! refuse me not, for I shall still go with my lady."
"Well, well," said Mrs. Astrid, almost joyfully, "then it would be no
use my saying no."
Susanna seized and kissed her hand, and was ready to weep, from all the
pain and love which filled her soul; but her lady withdrew her hand, and
again desired her kindly but commandingly to go.
When she was alone, she turned her eyes upon the letter which she held
in her hands.
Upon the envelope of the letter stood these words, written by an
unsteady hand.
"To my wife, after my death."
The letter was as follows:
"I feel that a great change is about to take place in me. Probably I may
die, or become insane. In the first place, I will thank my wife for her
angel-patience with me during my life, and tell her, that it is owing to
her conduct that I have at this moment my faith left in virtue and a
just Providence. I will now reward her in the only way which is possible
to me. Know then, my wife, that the boy, for whom thou hast loved and
deplored--_is not dead!_ Let it also lessen the abhorrence of my deed,
when I assure thee, that it was solicitude for your well-being which led
me in part to it. I was totally ruined--and could not endure the
thoughts of seeing thee destitute! For this reason I sent away the boy,
and gave it out that he was dead. He has suffered no want, he has----"
Here followed several illegible lines, after which might be read:
"I am confused, and cannot say that which I would. Speak with the former
Sergeant Rönn, now in the Customs at Bergen; he will----"
Here the letter broke off. It was without date, the paper old and
yellow. But Mrs. Astrid kissed it with tears of joy and gratitude,
whilst she whispered,
"Oh, what a recompense! What light! Wonderful, merciful, good
Providence!"
FOOTNOTES:
[14] About a farthing.
[15] The understrings of the so-called Hardanger-fiddle are four metal
strings, which lie under the sounding-board. They are tuned in unison
with the upper catgut strings, whereby, as well as by the peculiar form
of the violin itself, this gives forth a singular strong, almost
melancholy sound.
[16] The langoleik, or langleg, is a four-stringed instrument, probably
of the same form as the psaltry. The peasant girls in mountain-districts
play gladly upon it, and often with great dexterity. In the so-called
"Elskov's Song," from Vestfjordal it is said--
Ho som so gjilt kan po Langoleik spelo,
Svanaug den vena, ska no væra mi!
AASGAARDSREIJA.
Wildly the misty troop the tempest rideth,
The ghosts of heroes seek the Northern fjorde;
There goes the iron-boat; the serpent glideth,
The ravens flutter round the lofty board.
Dark, silent shades the high mast are surrounding;
Lightnings are flashing from the weapons bright;
Rise up from ocean-cliff's thou horn resounding,
To-night ride forth the Daughters of the fight!
VELHAVEN.
Susanna went into her quiet room, but within her it was not quiet--a
hard fight was fought there. It was necessary now to abandon all her own
wishes and hopes, for Susanna found now that she almost unconsciously to
herself had cherished such as regarded her mistress and Harald. She had
hoped that through her love she might win this, through her attentions
might become necessary to them; and now she saw how infinitely little
she was to them. She blushed at her own self-delusion, and reproached
herself with having been untrue to her little Hulda; in having attached
herself so deeply to strange people, and allowed her favourite scheme to
be dimmed by new impressions and views. Susanna punished herself
severely for it; called herself foolish and weak; and determined to fly
from Harald, and from the place where he dwelt.
"When I have attended my lady over the dangerous mountains,"--thus
thought Susanna,--"when I see her in safety and happy, then I will leave
her--her and him, and this country for ever. Poor came I hither, poorer
shall I go away from it, for I shall leave a part of my heart behind in
a foreign land. But a pure conscience shall I take with me to my home.
They could not love me; but when I am gone, they will perhaps think with
esteem, perhaps with friendship, upon Susanna!"
The silent stars mirrored themselves in Susanna's tears, which flowed
abundantly during this quiet discourse with herself, and the tears and
the stars calmed her mind, and she felt herself strengthened by the
resolution which she had taken.
After this she entirely directed her thoughts upon that which would be
necessary for the journey, and passed the remainder of the night partly
in these preparations, and partly in setting the domestic affairs in
order, that she might with a good conscience leave the house.
In the mean time the journey was not so quickly undertaken as was at
first intended, for a safe guide and good safe horses for the journey
over the mountains had to be obtained, and this occupied the greater
part of the next day. Before the morning of the following day, it was
not possible that they could set out. Harald, greatly amazed at this
sudden determination, endeavoured to delay the journey, by
representations of its difficulties and even dangers during this season,
for, "from the beginning of September, they may every day look for falls
of snow and stormy tempests in this mountain region." But Mrs. Astrid,
without further explaining herself, adhered to her resolution, and
Harald promised to make all preparations for the journey, so that it
might be performed as speedily and as safely as possible. They had the
choice between four equally difficult mountain-roads which led from this
part of Hallingdal towards the diocese of Bergen; and of these, the
shortest was that which went through Hardanger. Mrs. Astrid determined
upon this. This, however, would require at least two days and a half.
Harald, who knew the way, and said that in case of need he could serve
as guide, made preparations to attend the lady on her adventurous
journey. Alette, in the mean time, with her Alf, should, in company
with her uncle in Hallingdal and his family, set off on the journey to
Trondhjem, where Harald promised afterwards to meet them for Alette's
marriage.
Harald wished to inquire from Susanna the cause of this extraordinary
journey; but Susanna at this time was not much to be spoken with, she
had so much to attend to both within and out of the house, and she was
always surrounded by Larina and Karina, and Petro. And Susanna was glad
that her household affairs gave her a good excuse for absenting herself
from the company, and even from avoiding intercourse with the world. A
certain bitterness both towards him and Alette was rooted into her
heart.
Among many noble and valuable qualities, man has that of being able to
condemn and sentence himself. And if we are justly displeased with any
one, if we are wounded and repelled by word or deed, we should depend
upon this quality, and permit it to operate reconcilingly upon our
feelings. For while we are embittered by his offence, perhaps he himself
may have wept in silence over it, waked in the silent hours of the night
unpityingly to punish himself in the severe sanctuary of his conscience;
and the nobler the human being, all the greater is his pang, even over
failings which before the judgment-seat of the world are very small or
no faults at all; nay, he will not at all forgive himself if he cannot
make atonement for his faults; and the hope of so doing is, in such
painful hours, his only comfort.
Thus even would every bitter feeling have vanished out of Susanna's
soul, could she have seen how deeply dissatisfied was Harald at this
time with himself,--how warmly he upbraided himself for the words which,
during the yesterday's dawn, had passed his lips, without there being
any actual seriousness in them; and how displeased he was by the promise
which he had given to Alette, and with the resolve he had made, in
consequence of her anxieties and advice.
This dissatisfaction was the more increased, when he saw by Susanna's
swollen eyelids that she had wept much, and remarked in her manner a
certain uneasiness and depression which was so entirely the reverse of
her usually fresh and lively deportment. Uneasy and full of foreboding,
he questioned himself as to the cause, whilst he followed her with
inquiring looks.
At dinner, Mrs. Astrid did not join them at the table, and the others
sate there silent and out of spirits, with the exception of Lexow, who
in vain endeavoured to enliven the rest with his good humour.
In the afternoon, whilst they were taking coffee, Susanna slipped
silently away, to carry to a sick peasant woman, before her journey,
some medicines, together with some children's clothes. Harald, who had
stood for some time observing the barometer, and who seemed to suspect
her intention, turned round to her hastily as she went out at the door,
and said to her--
"You cannot think of going out now? It is not advisable. In a few
minutes we shall probably have a severe storm."
"I am not afraid of it," replied Susanna, going.
"But you do not know _our_ storms!" answered Harald. "Lexow, come here!
See here,"--and Harald pointed to the barometer, whilst he said half
aloud, "the quicksilver has fallen two degrees in half an hour; now it
sinks again; now it stands near the earthquake point! we shall have in a
moment a true 'Berg-röse,'[17] here."
Lexow shook his head mournfully, and said--
"It is a bad look out for the morrow's journey! But I presume that your
storms here are mere child's play, compared with those that we have in
certain districts of Nordland!" And Alf went to his Alette, who looked
inquiringly and uneasily at him.
Harald hastened after Susanna, and found her at the door, just about
going out with a bundle under her arm. He placed himself in the way
before her, and said to her gravely--
"You cannot go! I assure you that danger is at hand."
"What danger?" asked Susanna, gloomily, and with an obstinate
determination to act in opposition to Harald.