“About five.”
She asked:
“Can you tell so nearly by the sun?”
“Yes,” I answered; “I can.”
Pause.
“But when you can't see the sun, how do you tell the time then?”
“Then I can tell by other things. There's high tide and low tide, and
the grass that lies over at certain hours, and the song of the birds
that changes; some birds begin to sing when others leave off. Then, I
can tell the time by flowers that close in the afternoon, and leaves
that are bright green at some times and dull green at others--and then,
besides, I can feel it.”
“I see.”
Now I was expecting rain, and for Edwarda's sake I would not keep her
there any longer on the road; I raised my cap. But she stopped me
suddenly with a new question, and I stayed. She blushed, and asked me
why I had come to the place at all? Why I went out shooting, and why
this and why that? For I never shot more than I needed for food, and
left my dog idle...
She looked flushed and humble. I understood that someone had been
talking about me, and she had heard it; she was not speaking for
herself. And something about her called up a feeling of tenderness in
me; she looked so helpless, I remembered that she had no mother; her
thin arms gave her an ill-cared-for appearance. I could not help feeling
it so.
Well, I did not go out shooting just to murder things, but to live. I
had need of one grouse to-day, and so I did not shoot two, but would
shoot the other to-morrow. Why kill more? I lived in the woods, as a son
of the woods. And from the first of June it was closed time for hare and
ptarmigan; there was but little left for me to shoot at all now. Well
and good: then I could go fishing, and live on fish. I would borrow her
father's boat and row out in that. No, indeed, I did no go out shooting
for the lust of killing things, but only to live in the woods. It was a
good place for me; I could lie down on the ground at meals, instead of
sitting upright on a chair; I did not upset my glass there. In the woods
I could do as I pleased; I could lie down flat on my back and close my
eyes if I pleased, and I could say whatever I liked to say. Often one
might feel a wish to say something, to speak aloud, and in the woods it
sounded like speech from the very heart...
When I asked her if she understood all this, she said, “Yes.”
And I went on, and told her more, because her eyes were on me. “If you
only knew all that I see out in the wilds!” I said. “In winter, I come
walking along, and see, perhaps, the tracks of ptarmigan in the snow.
Suddenly the track disappears; the bird has taken wing. But from the
marks of the wings I can see which way the game has flown, and before
long I have tracked it down again. There is always a touch of newness in
that for me. In autumn, many a time there are shooting stars to watch.
Then I think to myself, being all alone, What was that? A world seized
with convulsions all of a sudden? A world going all to pieces before my
eyes? To think that I--that _I_ should be granted the sight of shooting
stars in my life! And when summer comes, then perhaps there may be a
little living creature on every leaf; I can see that some of them have
no wings; they can make no great way in the world, but must live and die
on that one little leaf where they came into the world.
“Then sometimes I see the blue flies. But it all seems such a little
thing to talk about--I don't know if you understand?”
“Yes, yes, I understand.”
“Good. Well, then sometimes I look at the grass, and perhaps the grass
is looking at me again--who can say? I look at a single blade of grass;
it quivers a little, maybe, and thinks me something. And I think to
myself: Here is a little blade of grass all a-quivering. Or if it
happens to be a fir tree I look at, then maybe the tree has one branch
that makes me think of it a little, too. And sometimes I meet people up
on the moors; it happens at times.”
I looked at her; she stood bending forward, listening. I hardly knew
her. So lost in attention she was that she took no heed of herself, but
was ugly, foolish looking; her underlip hung far down.
“Yes, yes,” she said, and drew herself up.
The first drops of rain began to fall.
“It is raining,” said I.
“Oh! Yes, it is raining,” she said, and went away on the instant.
I did not see her home; she went on her way alone; I hurried up to the
hut. A few minutes passed. It began to rain heavily. Suddenly I heard
someone running after me. I stopped short, and there was Edwarda.
“I forgot,” she said breathlessly. “We were going over to the
islands--the drying grounds, you know. The Doctor is coming to-morrow;
will you have time then?”
“To-morrow? Yes, indeed. I shall have time enough.”
“I forgot it,” she said again, and smiled.
As she went, I noticed her thin, pretty calves; they were wet far above
the ankle. Her shoes were worn through.
X
There was another day which I remember well. It was the day my summer
came. The sun began shining while it was still night, and dried up the
wet ground for the morning. The air was soft and fine after the last
rain.
In the afternoon I went down to the quay. The water was perfectly
still; we could hear talking and laughter away over at the island, where
men and girls were at work on the fish. It was a happy afternoon.
Ay, was it not a happy afternoon? We took hampers of food and wine with
us; a big party we were, in two boats, with young women in light
dresses. I was so happy that I hummed a tune.
And when we were in the boat, I fell to thinking where all these young
people came from. There were the daughters of the Lensmand and the
district surgeon, a governess or so, and the ladies from the vicarage. I
had not seen them before; they were strangers to me; and yet, for all
that, they were as friendly as if we had known each other for years. I
made some mistakes! I had grown unaccustomed to being in society, and
often said “Du” [Footnote: “Du"=thou, the familiar form of address
(tutoyer), instead of “De"=you.] to the young ladies, but they did not
seem offended. And once I said “dear,” or “my dear,” but they forgave me
that as well, and took no notice of it.
Herr Mack had his unstarched shirt front on as usual, with the diamond
stud. He seemed in excellent spirits, and called across to the other
boat:
“Hi, look after the hamper with the bottles, you madcaps there. Doctor,
I shall hold you responsible for the wine.”
“Right!” cried the Doctor. And just those few words from one boat to
another seemed to me pleasant and merry to hear.
Edwarda was wearing the same dress she had, worn the day before, as if
she had no other or did not care to put on another. Her shoes, too, were
the same. I fancied her hands were not quite clean; but she wore a brand
new hat, with feathers. She had taken her dyed jacket with her, and used
it to sit on.
At Herr Mack's request I fired a shot just as we were about to land, in
fact, two shots, both barrels--and they cheered. We rambled up over the
island, the workers greeted us all, and Herr Mack stopped to speak to
his folk. We found daisies and corn marigolds and put them in our
button-holes; some found harebells.
And there was a host of seabirds chattering and screaming, in the air
and on the shore.
We camped out on a patch of grass where there were a few stunted birches
with white stems. The hampers were opened, and Herr Mack saw to the
bottles. Light dresses, blue eyes, the ring of glasses, the sea, the
white sails. And we sang a little.
And cheeks were flushed.
* * * * *
An hour later, my whole being was joy; even little things affected me. A
veil fluttering from a hat, a girl's hair coming down, a pair of eyes
closing in a laugh--and it touched me. That day, that day!
“I've heard you've such a queer little hut up there, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, a nest. And the very thing for me. Come and see me there one day;
there's no such hut anywhere else. And the great forest behind it.”
Another came up and said kindly:
“You have not been up here in the north before?”
“No,” I answered. “But I know all about it already, ladies. At night I
am face to face with the mountains, the earth, and the sun. But I will
not try to use fine words. What a summer you have here! It bursts forth
one night when everyone is asleep, and in the morning there it is. I
looked out of my window and saw it myself. I have two little windows.”
A third came up. She was charming by reason of her voice and her small
hands. How charming they all were! This one said:
“Shall we change flowers? It brings luck, they say.”
“Yes,” I answered, holding out my hand, “let us change flowers, and I
thank you for it. How pretty you are! You have a lovely voice; I have
been listening to it all the time.”
But she drew back her harebells and said curtly:
“What are you thinking about? It was not you I meant.”
It was not me she meant! It hurt me to feel that I had been mistaken; I
wished myself at home again, far away in my hut, where only the wind
could speak to me. “I beg your pardon,” I said; “forgive me.” The other
ladies looked at one another and moved away, so as not to humiliate me.
Just at that moment someone came quickly over towards us. All could see
her--it was Edwarda. She came straight to me. She said something, and
threw her arms round my neck; clasped her arms round my neck and kissed
me again and again on the lips. Each time she said something, but I did
not hear what it was. I could not understand it all; my heart stood
still; I had only a feeling of her burning look. Then she slipped away
from me; her little breast beat up and down. She stood there still, with
her brown face and brown neck, tall and slender, with flashing eyes,
altogether heedless. They were all looking at her. For the second time I
was fascinated by her dark eyebrows, that curved high up into her
forehead.
But, Heavens--the girl had kissed me openly in sight of them all!
“What is it, Edwarda?” I asked, and I could hear my blood beating; hear
it as it were from down in my throat, so that I could not speak
distinctly.
“Nothing,” she answered. “Only--that I wanted to. It doesn't matter.”
I took off my cap and brushed back my hair mechanically as I stood
looking at her. “Doesn't matter...?”
Herr Mack was saying something, a good way off; we could not hear his
words from where we were. But I was glad to think that Herr Mack had
seen nothing, that he knew nothing of this. It was well indeed that he
had been away from the party just then. I felt relieved at that, and I
stepped over to the others and said with a laugh, and seeming quite
indifferent:
“I would ask you all to forgive my unseemly behavior a moment ago; I am
myself extremely sorry about it. Edwarda kindly offered to change
flowers with me, and I forgot myself. I beg her pardon and yours. Put
yourself in my place; I live all alone, and am not accustomed to the
society of ladies; besides which, I have been drinking wine, and am not
used to that either. You must make allowances for that.”
And I laughed, and showed great indifference to such a trifle, that it
might be forgotten; but, inwardly, I was serious. Moreover, what I had
said made no impression on Edwarda. She did not try to hide anything, to
smooth over the effect of her hasty action: on the contrary, she sat
down close to me and kept looking at me fixedly. Now and again she spoke
to me. And afterwards, when we were playing “_Enke_,” she said:
“I shall have Lieutenant Glahn. I don't care to run after anyone else.”
“_Saa for Satan_, [Footnote: Expletive, equivalent to “The Devil!” or
“Damnation!”] girl, be quiet!” I whispered, stamping my foot.
She gave me a look of surprise, made a wry face as if it hurt, and then
smiled bashfully. I was deeply moved at that; the helpless look in her
eyes and her little thin figure were more than I could resist; I was
drawn to her in that moment, and I took her long, slight hand in mine.
“Afterwards,” I said, “No more now. We can meet again to-morrow.”