the many girls. Such fun as was there, Arne had never seen before in
all his life; and one thing which especially astonished him was, that
the girls laughed for nothing at all: if three laughed, then five
would laugh just because those three laughed. Altogether, they
behaved as if they had lived with each other all their lives; and yet
there were several of them who had never met before that very day.
When they caught the bough which they jumped after, they laughed, and
when they did not catch it they laughed also; when they did not find
any nuts, they laughed because they found none; and when they did
find some, they also laughed. They fought for the nutting-hook: those
who got it laughed, and those who did not get it laughed also.
Godfather limped after them, trying to beat them with his stick, and
making all the mischief he was good for; those he hit, laughed
because he hit them, and those he missed, laughed because he missed
them. But the whole lot laughed at Arne because he was so grave; and
when at last he could not help laughing, they all laughed again
because he laughed.
Then the whole party seated themselves on a large hill; the girls in
a circle, and Godfather in the middle. The sun was scorching hot, but
they did not care the least for it, but sat cracking nuts, giving
Godfather the kernels, and throwing the shells and husks at each
other. Godfather 'sh 'shed at them, and, as far as he could reach,
beat them with his stick; for he wanted to make them be quiet and
tell tales. But to stop their noise seemed just about as easy as to
stop a carriage running down a hill. Godfather began to tell a tale,
however. At first many of them would not listen; they knew his
stories already; but soon they all listened attentively; and before
they thought of it, they set off tale-telling themselves at full
gallop. Though they had just been so noisy, their tales, to Arne's
great surprise, were very earnest: they ran principally upon love.
"You, Aasa, know a good tale, I remember from last year," said
Godfather, turning to a plump girl with a round, good-natured face,
who sat plaiting the hair of a younger sister, whose head lay in her
lap.
"But perhaps several know it already," answered Aasa.
"Never mind, tell it," they begged.
"Very well, I'll tell it without any more persuading," she answered;
and then, plaiting her sister's hair all the while, she told and
sang:--
"There was once a grown-up lad who tended cattle, and who often drove
them upwards near a broad stream. On one side was a high steep cliff,
jutting out so far over the stream that when he was upon it he could
talk to any one on the opposite side; and all day he could see a girl
over there tending cattle, but he couldn't go to her.
'Now, tell me thy name, thou girl that art sitting
Up there with thy sheep, so busily knitting,'
he asked over and over for many days, till one day at last there came
an answer:--
'My name floats about like a duck in wet weather;
Come over, thou boy in the cap of brown leather.'
"This left the lad no wiser than he was before; and he thought he
wouldn't mind her any further. This, however, was much more easily
thought than done, for drive his cattle whichever way he would, it
always, somehow or other, led to that same high steep cliff. Then the
lad grew frightened; and he called over to her--
'Well, who is your father, and where are you biding?
On the road to the church I have ne'er seen you riding.'
"The lad asked this because he half believed she was a huldre.[3]
[3] "Over the whole of Norway, the tradition is current of a
supernatural being that dwells in the forests and mountains, called
Huldre or Hulla. She appears like a beautiful woman, and is usually
clad in a blue petticoat and a white snood; but unfortunately has a
long tail, which she anxiously tries to conceal when she is among
people. She is fond of cattle, particularly brindled, of which she
possesses a beautiful and thriving stock. They are without horns.
She was once at a merrymaking, where every one was desirous of
dancing with the handsome, strange damsel; but in the midst of the
mirth, a young man, who had just begun a dance with her, happened
to cast his eye on her tail. Immediately guessing whom he had got
for a partner, he was not a little terrified; but, collecting
himself, and unwilling to betray her, he merely said to her when
the dance was over, 'Fair maid, you will lose your garter.' She
instantly vanished, but afterwards rewarded the silent and
considerate youth with beautiful presents and a good breed of
cattle. The idea entertained of this being is not everywhere the
same, but varies considerably in different parts of Norway. In some
places she is described as a handsome female when seen in front,
but is hollow behind, or else blue; while in others she is known by
the name of Skogmerte, and is said to be blue, but clad in a green
petticoat, and probably corresponds to the Swedish Skogsnyfoor. Her
song--a sound often heard among the mountains--is said to be hollow
and mournful, differing therein from the music of the subterranean
beings, which is described by earwitnesses as cheerful and
fascinating. But she is not everywhere regarded as a solitary wood
nymph. Huldremen and Huldrefolk are also spoken of, who live
together in the mountains, and are almost identical with the
subterranean people. In Hardanger the Huldre people are always clad
in green, but their cattle are blue, and may be taken when a
grown-up person casts his belt over them. They give abundance of
milk. The Huldres take possession of the forsaken pasture-spots in
the mountains, and invite people into their mounds, where
delightful music is to be heard."--_Thorpe's Northern Mythology._
'My house is burned down, and my father is drowned,
And the road to the church-hill I never have found.'
"This again left the lad no wiser than he was before. In the daytime
he kept hovering about the cliff; and at night he dreamed she danced
with him, and lashed him with a big cow's tail whenever he tried to
catch her. Soon he could neither sleep nor work; and altogether the
lad got in a very poor way. Then once more he called from the cliff--
'If thou art a huldre, then pray do not spell me;
If thou art a maiden, then hasten to tell me.'
"But there came no answer; and so he was sure she was a huldre. He
gave up tending cattle; but it was all the same; wherever he went,
and whatever he did, he was all the while thinking of the beautiful
huldre who blew on the horn. Soon he could bear it no longer; and one
moonlight evening when all were asleep, he stole away into the
forest, which stood there all dark at the bottom, but with its
tree-tops bright in the moonbeams. He sat down on the cliff, and
called--
'Run forward, my huldre; my love has o'ercome me;
My life is a burden; no longer hide from me.'
"The lad looked and looked; but she didn't appear. Then he heard
something moving behind him; he turned round and saw a big black
bear, which came forward, squatted on the ground and looked at him.
But he ran away from the cliff and through the forest as fast as his
legs could carry him: if the bear followed him, he didn't know, for
he didn't turn round till he lay safely in bed.
"'It was one of her herd,' the lad thought; 'it isn't worth while to
go there any more;' and he didn't go.
"Then, one day, while he was chopping wood, a girl came across the
yard who was the living picture of the huldre: but when she drew
nearer, he saw it wasn't she. Over this he pondered much. Then he saw
the girl coming back, and again while she was at a distance she
seemed to be the huldre, and he ran to meet her; but as soon as he
came near, he saw it wasn't she.
"After this, wherever the lad was--at church at dances, or any other
parties--the girl was, too; and still when at a distance she seemed
to be the huldre, and when near she was somebody else. Then he asked
her whether she was the huldre or not, but she only laughed at him.
'One may as well leap into it as creep into it,' the lad thought; and
so he married the girl.
"But the lad had hardly done this before he ceased to like the girl:
when he was away from her he longed for her; but when he was with her
he yearned for some one he did not see. So the lad behaved very badly
to his wife; but she suffered in silence.
"Then one day when he was out looking for his horses, he came again
to the cliff; and he sat down and called out--
'Like fairy moonlight, to me thou seemest;
Like Midsummer-fires, from afar thou gleamest.'
"He felt that it did him good to sit there; and afterwards he went
whenever things were wrong at home. His wife wept when he was gone.
"But one day when he was sitting there, he saw the huldre sitting all
alive on the other side blowing her horn. He called over--
'Ah, dear, art thou come! all around thee is shining!
Ah, blow now again! I am sitting here pining.'
"Then she answered--
'Away from thy mind the dreams I am blowing;
Thy rye is all rotting for want of mowing.'
"But then the lad felt frightened and went home again. Ere long,
however, he grew so tired of his wife that he was obliged to go to
the forest again, and he sat down on the cliff. Then was sung over to
him--
'I dreamed thou wast here; ho, hasten to bind me!
No; not over there, but behind you will find me.'
"The lad jumped up and looked around him, and caught a glimpse of a
green petticoat just slipping away between the shrubs. He followed,
and it came to a hunting all through the forest. So swift-footed as
that huldre, no human creature could be: he flung steel over her
again and again, but still she ran on just as well as ever. But soon
the lad saw, by her pace, that she was beginning to grow tired,
though he saw, too, by her shape, that she could be no other than the
huldre. 'Now,' he thought, you'll be mine easily;' and he caught hold
on her so suddenly and roughly that they both fell, and rolled down
the hills a long way before they could stop themselves. Then the
huldre laughed till it seemed to the lad the mountains sang again. He
took her upon his knee; and so beautiful she was, that never in all
his life he had seen any one like her: exactly like her, he thought
his wife should have been. 'Ah, who are you who are so beautiful?' he
asked, stroking her cheek. She blushed rosy red. 'I'm your wife,' she
answered."
The girls laughed much at that tale, and ridiculed the lad. But
Godfather asked Arne if he had listened well to it.
"Well, now I'll tell you something," said a little girl with a little
round face, and a very little nose:--
"Once there was a little lad who wished very much to woo a little
girl. They were both grown up; but yet they were very little. And the
lad couldn't in any way muster courage to ask her to have him. He
kept close to her when they came home from church; but, somehow or
other, their chat was always about the weather. He went over to her
at the dancing-parties, and nearly danced her to death; but still he
couldn't bring himself to say what he wanted. 'You must learn to
write,' he said to himself; 'then you'll manage matters.' And the lad
set to writing; but he thought it could never be done well enough;
and so he wrote a whole year round before he dared do his letter.
Now, the thing was to get it given to her without anybody seeing. He
waited till one day when they were standing all by themselves behind
the church. 'I've got a letter for you,' said the lad. 'But I can't
read writing,' the girl answered.
"And there the lad stood.
"Then he went to service at the girl's father's house; and he used to
keep hovering round her all day long. Once he had nearly brought
himself to speak; in fact, he had already opened his mouth; but then
a big fly flew in it. 'Well, I hope, at any rate, nobody else will
come to take her away,' the lad thought; but nobody came to take her,
because she was so very little.
"By-and-by, however, some one _did_ come, and he, too, was little.
The lad could see very well what he wanted; and when he and the girl
went up-stairs together, the lad placed himself at the key-hole. Then
he who was inside made his offer. 'Bad luck to me, I, codfish, who
didn't make haste!' the lad thought. He who was inside kissed the
girl just on her lips----. 'No doubt that tasted nice,' the lad
thought. But he who was inside took the girl on his lap. 'Oh, dear
me! what a world this is!' the lad said, and began crying. Then the
girl heard him and went to the door. 'What do you want, you nasty
boy?' said she, 'why can't you leave me alone?'--'I? I only wanted to
ask you to have me for your bridesman.'--'No; that, my brother's
going to be,' the girl answered, banging the door to.
"And there the lad stood."
The girls laughed very much at this tale, and afterwards pelted each
other with husks.
Then Godfather wished Eli Boeen to tell something.
"What, then, must it be?"
"Well, she might tell what she had told him on the hill, the last
time he came to see her parents, when she gave him the new garters.
Eli laughed very much; and it was some time before she would tell it:
however, she did at last,--
"A lad and a girl were once walking together on a road. 'Ah, look at
that thrush that follows us!' the girl said. 'It follows _me_,' said
the lad. 'It's just as likely to be _me_,' the girl answered. 'That,
we'll soon find out,' said the lad; 'you go that way, while I go
this, and we'll meet up yonder.' They did so. 'Well, didn't it follow
me?' the lad asked, when they met. 'No; it followed me,' answered the
girl. 'Then, there must be two.' They went together again for some
distance, but then there was only one thrush; and the lad thought it
flew on his side, but the girl thought it flew on hers. 'Devil a bit,
I care for that thrush,' said the lad. 'Nor do I,' answered the girl.
"But no sooner had they said this, than the thrush flew away. 'It was
on _your_ side, it was,' said the lad. 'Thank you,' answered the
girl; 'but I clearly saw it was on _your_ side.--But see! there it
comes again!' 'Indeed, it's on _my_ side,' the lad exclaimed. Then
the girl got angry: 'Ah, well, I wish I may never stir if I go with
you any longer!' and she went away.
"Then the thrush, too, left the lad; and he felt so dull that he
called out to the girl, 'Is the thrush with you?'--'No; isn't it with
you?'--'Ah, no; you must come here again, and then perhaps it will
follow you.'
"The girl came; and she and the lad walked on together, hand in
hand. 'Quitt, quitt, quitt, quitt!' sounded on the girl's side;
'quitt, quitt, quitt, quitt!' sounded on the lad's side; 'quitt,
quitt, quitt, quitt!' sounded on every side; and when they looked
there were a hundred thousand million thrushes all round them. 'Ah,
how nice this is!' said the girl, looking up at the lad. 'Ah, God
bless you!' said he, and kissed her."
All the girls thought this was such a nice tale.
Then Godfather said they must tell what they had dreamed last night,
and he would decide who had dreamed the nicest things.
"Tell what they had dreamed! No; impossible!"
And then there was no end of tittering and whispering. But soon one
after another began to think she had such a nice dream last night;
and then others thought it could not possibly be so nice as what they
had dreamed; and at last they all got a great mind for telling their
dreams. Yet they must not be told aloud, but to one only, and that
one must by no means be Godfather. Arne had all this time been
sitting quietly a little lower down the hill, and so the girls
thought they dared tell their dreams to him.
Then Arne seated himself under a hazel-bush; and Aasa, the girl who
had told the first tale, came over to him. She hesitated a while, but
then began,--
"I dreamed I was standing by a large lake. Then I saw one walking on
the water, and it was one whose name I will not say. He stepped into
a large water-lily, and sat there singing. But I launched out upon
one of the large leaves of the lily which lay floating on the water;
for on it I would row over to him. But no sooner had I come upon the
leaf than it began to sink with me, and I became much frightened, and
I wept. Then he came rowing along in the water-lily, and lifted me
up to him; and we rowed all over the whole lake. Wasn't that a nice
dream?"
Next came the little girl who had told the tale about the little
lad,--
"I dreamed I had caught a little bird, and I was so pleased with it,
and I thought I wouldn't let it loose till I came home in our room.
But there I dared not let it loose, for I was afraid father and
mother might tell me to let it go again. So I took it up-stairs; but
I could not let it loose there, either, for the cat was lurking
about. Then I didn't know what in the world to do; yet I took it into
the barn. Dear me, there were so many cracks, I was afraid it might
go away! Well, then I went down again into the yard; and there, it
seemed to me some one was standing whose name I will not say. He
stood playing with a big, big dog. 'I would rather play with that
bird of yours,' he said, and drew very near to me. But then it seemed
to me I began running away; and both he and the big dog ran after me
all round the yard; but then mother opened the front door, pulled me
hastily in, and banged the door after me. The lad, however, stood
laughing outside, with his face against the window-pane. 'Look,
here's the bird,' he said; and, only think, he had my bird out there!
Wasn't that a beautiful dream?"
Then came the girl who had told about the thrushes--Eli, they called
her. She was laughing so much that she could not speak for some time;
but at last she began,--
"I had been looking forward with very much pleasure to our nutting in
the wood to-day; and so last night I dreamed I was sitting here on
the hill. The sun shone brightly; and I had my lap full of nuts. But
there came a little squirrel among them, and it sat on its hind-legs
and ate them all up. Wasn't that a funny dream?"
Afterwards some more dreams were told him; and then the girls would
have him say which was the nicest. Of course, he must have plenty of
time for consideration; and meanwhile Godfather and the whole flock
went down to the house, leaving Arne to follow. They skipped down the
hill, and when they came to the plain went all in a row singing
towards the house.
Arne sat alone on the hill, listening to the singing. Strong sunlight
fell on the group of girls, and their white bodices shone bright, as
they went dancing over the meadows, every now and then clasping each
other round the waist; while Godfather limped behind, threatening
them with a stick because they trod down his hay. Arne thought no
more of the dreams, and soon he no longer looked after the girls. His
thoughts went floating far away beyond the valley, like the fine
air-threads, while he remained behind on the hill, spinning; and
before he was aware of it he had woven a close web of sadness. More
than ever, he longed to go away.
"Why stay any longer?" he said to himself; "surely, I've been
lingering long enough now!" He promised himself that he would speak
to the mother about it as soon as he reached home, however it might
turn out.
With greater force than ever, his thoughts turned to his song, "Over
the mountains high;" and never before had the words come so swiftly,
or linked themselves into rhyme so easily; they seemed almost like
girls sitting in a circle on the brow of a hill. He had a piece of
paper with him, and placing it upon his knee, he wrote down the
verses as they came. When he had finished the song, he rose like one
freed from a burden. He felt unwilling to see any one, and went
homewards by the way through the wood, though he knew he should then
have to walk during the night. The first time he stopped to rest on
the way, he put his hand to his pocket to take out the song,
intending to sing it aloud to himself through the wood; but he found
he had left it behind at the place where it was composed.
One of the girls went on the hill to look for him; she did not find
him, but she found his song.
X.
LOOSENING THE WEATHER-VANE.
To speak to the mother about going away, was more easily thought of
than done. He spoke again about Christian, and those letters which
had never come; but then the mother went away, and for days
afterwards he thought her eyes looked red and swollen. He noticed,
too, that she then got nicer food for him than usual; and this gave
him another sign of her state of mind with regard to him.
One day he went to cut fagots in a wood which bordered upon another
belonging to the parsonage, and through which the road ran. Just
where he was going to cut his fagots, people used to come in autumn
to gather whortleberries. He had laid aside his axe to take off his
jacket, and was just going to begin work, when two girls came walking
along with a basket to gather berries. He used generally to hide
himself rather than meet girls, and he did so now.
"Ah! only see what a lot of berries! Eli, Eli!"
"Yes, dear, I see!"
"Well, but, then, don't go any farther; here are many basketfuls."
"I thought I heard a rustling among the trees!"
"Oh, nonsense!"
The girls rushed towards each other, clasped each other round the
waist, and for a little while stood still, scarcely drawing breath.
"It's nothing, I dare say; come, let's go on picking."
"Well, so we will."
And they went on.
"It was nice you came to the parsonage to-day, Eli. Haven't you
anything to tell me?"
"Yes; I've been to see Godfather."
"Well, you've told me that; but haven't you anything to tell me about
_him_--you know who?"
"Yes, indeed I have!"
"Oh! Eli, have you! make haste and tell me!" "He has been there
again."
"Nonsense?"
"Indeed, he has: father and mother pretended to know nothing of it;
but I went up-stairs and hid myself."
"Well, what then? did he come after you?"
"Yes; I believe father told him where I was; he's always so tiresome
now."
"And so he came there?--Sit down, sit down; here, near me. Well, and
then he came?"
"Yes; but he didn't say much, for he was so bashful."
"Tell me what he said, every word; pray, every word!"
"'Are you afraid of me?' he said. 'Why should I be afraid?' I
answered. 'You know what I want to say to you,' he said, sitting down
beside me on the chest."
"Beside you!"
"And he took me round my waist."
"Round your waist; nonsense!"
"I wished very much to get loose again; but he wouldn't let me. 'Dear
Eli,' he said----" She laughed, and the other one laughed, too.
"Well? well?"
"'Will you be my wife?' Ha, ha, ha!"
"Ha, ha, ha!"
And then both laughed together, "Ha, ha, ha, ha!"
At last the laughing came to an end, and they were both quiet for a
while. Then the one who had first spoken asked in a low voice,
"Wasn't it strange he took you round your waist?"
Either the other girl did not answer that question, or she answered
in so low a voice that it could not be heard; perhaps she only
answered by a smile.
"Didn't your father or your mother say anything afterwards?" asked
the first girl, after a pause.
"Father came up and looked at me; but I turned away from him because
he laughed at me."
"And your mother?"
"No, she didn't say anything; but she wasn't so strict as usual."
"Well, you've done with him, I think?"
"Of course!"
Then there was again silence awhile.
"Was it thus he took you round your waist?"
"No; thus."
"Well, then;--it was thus...."
"Eli?"
"Well?"
"Do you think there will ever be anybody come in that way to me?"
"Of course, there will!"
"Nonsense! Ah, Eli? If he took me round the waist?" She hid her face.
Then they laughed again; and there was much whispering and tittering.
Soon the girls went away; they had not seen either Arne or the axe
and jacket, and he was glad of it.
A few days after, he gave Opplands-Knut a little farm on Kampen.
"You shall not be lonely any longer," Arne said.
That winter Arne went to the parsonage for some time to do carpentry;
and both the girls were often there together. When Arne saw them, he
often wondered who it might be that now came to woo Eli Boeen.
One day he had to drive for the clergyman's daughter and Eli; he
could not understand a word they said, though he had very quick ears.
Sometimes Mathilde spoke to him; and then Eli always laughed and hid
her face. Mathilde asked him if it was true that he could make
verses. "No," he said quickly; then they both laughed; and chattered
and laughed again. He felt vexed; and afterwards when he met them
seemed not to take any notice of them.
Once he was sitting in the servants' hall while a dance was going on,
and Mathilde and Eli both came to see it. They stood together in a
corner, disputing about something; Eli would not do it, but Mathilde
would, and she at last gained her point. Then they both came over to
Arne, courtesied, and asked him if he could dance. He said he could
not; and then both turned aside and ran away, laughing. In fact, they
were always laughing, Arne thought; and he became brave. But soon
after, he got the clergyman's foster-son, a boy of about twelve, to
teach him to dance, when no one was by.
Eli had a little brother of the same age as the clergyman's
foster-son. These two boys were playfellows; and Arne made sledges,
snow-shoes and snares for them; and often talked to them about their
sisters, especially about Eli. One day Eli's brother brought Arne a
message that he ought to make his hair a little smoother. "Who said
that?"
"Eli did; but she told me not to say it was she."
A few days after, Arne sent word that Eli ought to laugh a little
less. The boy brought back word that Arne ought by all means to laugh
a little more.