Father was to go no further than to Noerrebro, and I had an errand at
Vestervold. So I stepped out and went through the Love-path. As I came
to the corner of the path, and the Ladegaardsway, the wind blew so
violently against me, that I could hardly breathe; and something blew
against my veil, fluttering with wings like a humming-bird. I tried to
drive it away, for it blinded one of my eyes; but it blew back again.
So I caught it and was going to let it fly away over my head, but that
moment I saw it was written upon, and read it. It was a love-letter! A
man wrote that he sent this as in old times the Norwegian emigrants let
their high-seat pillars be carried by the sea, and where it came he
would one time come, and bring his faith to his destined--Geb.'"
"'Geb'? What is that?" asked the cousin. "That is Ingeborg," answered
Miss Hjelm, with a plain simplicity, showing how deeply she had
believed in the earnestness of the message.
"It was really remarkable!" said the cousin, and added with a smile
which perhaps was somewhat ironical: "And did you then resolve to
remain unmarried, until the unknown letter-writer should come and
redeem his vow?"
"I will not say that," answered Ingeborg, who quickly became more
guarded; "but the letter perhaps contained some stronger requirements
than under the circumstances could be fulfilled."
"So! and now?"
"Now I have presented the letter to Miss Brandt."
"You gave it away? Why?"
"Because I learned that the man, who perhaps or probably wrote it in
his youth, has spoken about it publicly, and is counsellor in one of
the courts."
"Oh, I understand," said the cousin, half audibly: "when the ideal is
found out to be a counsellor, then--"
"Then it is not an ideal any longer? No. The whole had been spoiled by
being fumbled in public. I would get away from the temptation to think
of him. Do court to him, announce myself to him as the happy finder,--I
could not."
"That I understand very well," said the cousin, putting her arm
affectionately around Ingeborg's waist; "but why did you just give Miss
Brandt the letter?"
"Because she is acquainted with the counsellor, and indeed, as far as I
could understand, feels somewhat for him. They two can get each other;
and what a wonderful consecration it will be when she on the
marriage-day gives him the letter!"
The cousin said musingly: "And such secrets can live in one whole year,
without another surmising it!" Suddenly she added: "But how will Miss
Brandt on that occasion interpret the word 'Geb'?"
"Oh! I suppose a single syllable is of no consequence; and, besides,
Miss Brandt is a judicious girl," answered Ingeborg, with an
inexpressible flash in the dark eyes.
IV.
Good fortune seldom comes singly. One morning Criminal and Court
Counsellor Bagger got, at his residence at Noerre Street, official
intelligence that from the first of next month he was transferred to
the King's Court, and in grace was promoted to be veritable counsellor
of justice there; rank, fourth-class, number three. As, gratified by
this friendly smile from above, he went out to repair to the
court-house, he met in the porch a postman, who delivered him a letter.
With thoughts yet busy with new title and court, Counsellor Bagger
broke the letter, but remained as if fixed to the ground. In it he read:
"The high-seat pillars have come on shore.
"--'GEB.'--"
One says well, that a man's love or season of courtship lasts till his
thirtieth year, and after that time he is ambitious; but it is not
always so, and with Counsellor Bagger it was in all respects the
contrary. His ambition was already, if not fully reached, yet in some
degree satisfied. The faculty of love had not been at all employed, and
the letter came like a spark in a powder-cask; it ran glowing through
every nerve. The youthful half of his soul, which had slept within him,
wakened with such sudden, revolutionary strength, that the other half
soul, which until now had borne rule, became completely subject; yes,
so wholly, that Counsellor Bagger went past the court-house and came
down in Court-house Street without noticing it. Suddenly he missed the
big building with the pillars and inscription: "With law shall Lands be
built;" looked around confused, and turned back.
So much was he still at this moment Criminal Examiner, that among the
first thoughts or feelings which the mysterious letter excited in him
was this: It can be a trick, a foolery. But in the next moment it
occurred to him, that never to any living soul had he mentioned his
bold figure of the high-seat pillars, and still less revealed the
mysterious, to him so valued, syllable--geb--. No doubt could exist:
the fine, perfumed paper, the delicate lady handwriting, and the few
significant words testified, that the billet which once in youthful,
sanguine longing he had entrusted to the winds of heaven, had come to a
lady, and that in one way or another she had found him out. He
remembered very well, that a single time, five or six weeks before, he
had in a numerous company mentioned that incident, and he did not doubt
that the story had extended itself as ripples do, when one throws a
stone into the water; but where in the whole town, or indeed the land,
had the ripple hit the exact point? He looked again at the envelope. It
bore the stamp of the Copenhagen city mail: that was all. But that
showed with some probability that the writer lived in Copenhagen, and
maybe at this moment she looked down upon him from one of the many
windows; for now he stood by the fountain. There was something in the
paper, the handwriting, or more properly perhaps in the secrecy, that
made her seem young, spirited, beautiful, piquant. There was something
fairy-like, exalted, intoxicating, in the feeling that the object of
the longing and hope of his youth had been under the protection of a
good spirit, and that the great unknown had taken care of and prepared
for him a companion, a wife, just at the moment when he had become
Counsellor of Justice of the Superior Court. But who was she? This was
the only thing painful in the affair; but this intriguing annoyance was
not to be avoided, if the lady was to remain within her sphere,
surrounded by respect and esteem.
"What would I have thought of a lady, a woman, who came straight
forward and handed out the billet, saying: 'Here I am'?" he asked
himself, at the moment when at last he had found the court-house stairs
and was ascending.
How it fared that day with the examinations is recorded in criminal and
police court documents; but a veil is thrown over it in consideration
of the fact, that a man only once in his life is made Counsellor of
Justice in the King's Court. The day following it went better; although
it is pretty sure that a horse thief went free from further reproof,
because the counsellor was busy rolling that stone up the mountain:
Where shall I seek her if she does not write again? Will she write
again? If she would do that, why did she not write a little more at
first?
A couple of weeks after the receipt of the letter, one evening about
seven o'clock, the counsellor sat at home, not as before by his
writing-table busy with acts, but on a corner of the sofa, with
drooping arms, deeply absorbed in a mixture of anxious doubts and
dreaming expectations. Hope built air-castles, and doubt then puffed
them over like card-houses. One of his fancies was, that she summoned
him--he would not even in thought use the expression: gave him an
interview--at a masquerade. It was consequently no common masquerade,
but a grand, elegant masked ball, to which a true lady could repair.
The clock was at eleven, the appointed hour: he waited anxiously the
pressing five minutes; then she came and extended him the fine hand in
the finest straw-colored glove--
"Letter to the Counsellor of Justice," said Jens, with strong Funen
accent, and short, soldierly pronunciation.
It is so uncommon that what one longs for comes just at the moment of
most earnest desire; but notwithstanding the letter was from her, the
Counsellor of Justice knew the superscription, would have known it
among a hundred thousand. The letter read thus:
"I ought to be open towards you; and, as we shall never meet, I can be
so."
Here the Counsellor of Justice stopped a moment and caught for breath.
A good many of our twenty-year-old beaux, who have never been admitted
to the bar, far less have been Court Counsellors, would, under similar
circumstances, have said to themselves: "She writes that she will be
open; that is to say, now she will fool me: we will never meet; that is
to say, now I shall soon see her." But Counsellor Bagger believed every
word as gospel, and his knees trembled. He read further:
"I am ashamed of the few words I last wrote you; but my apology is,
that it is only two days since I learned that you are married. I have
been mistaken, but more in what may be imputed to me than in what I
have thought. My only comfort is, that I shall never be known by you or
anybody, and that I shall be forgotten, as I shall forget."
"Never! But who can have spread the infamous slander! What dreadful
treachery of some wretch or gossiping wench, who knows nothing about
me! And how can she believe it! How in such a town as Copenhagen can it
be a matter of doubt for five minutes, if a Superior Court Counsellor
is married or not! Or maybe there is some other Counsellor Bagger
married,--a Chamber Counsellor or the like? Or maybe she lives at a
distance, in a quiet world, so that the truth of it does not easily
reach her? So there is no sunshine more!
"If she should sometime meet me, and know that I was, am, and have been
unmarried, that meanwhile we have both become old and gray,--can one
think of anything more sad? It is enough to make the heart cease
beating! But suppose, too, that to-morrow she finds out that she has
been deceived: she has once written, 'I was mistaken,' and cannot, as a
true woman, write it again, unless she first heard from me, and learned
how I longed--and so I am cut off from her, as if I lived in the moon.
More, more! for I can meet her upon the street and touch her arm
without surmising it. It is insupportable! Our time has mail,
steamboats, railroads, telegraphs: to me these do not exist; for of
what use are they altogether, when one knows not where to search."
A thought came suddenly, like a meteor in the dark: advertise. What
family in Copenhagen did not the Address Paper reach? He would put in
an advertisement,--but how? "Fritz Bagger is not married."--No: that
was too plain.--"F. B. is not married."--No: that was not plain enough.
As he could find no successful use for his own name, it flashed into
his mind to use hers,--geb--; and although it was painful to him to
publish this, to him, almost sacred syllable for profane eyes to gaze
upon, yet it comforted him, that only one, she herself, would
understand it. Yet he hesitated. But one cannot make an omelet without
breaking eggs; and although the heart's finest fibres ache at the
thought of sending a message to a fairy through the Address Paper, yet
one yields to this rather than lose the fairy.
At last, after numerous efforts he stopped at this: "--geb--! It is a
mistake: he waits only for--geb--." It appeared to him to contain the
approach to a happy result, and tired out by emotion he fell asleep on
his sofa.
Some days after came a new letter with the dear handwriting: its
contents were:
"Well! appear eight days from to-day at Mrs. Canuteson's, to
congratulate her upon her birthday."
This was sunshine after thunder; this was hope's rainbow which arched
itself up to heaven from the earth, yet wet with tears.
"And so she belongs to good society," said the Counsellor of Justice,
without noticing how by these words he discovered to himself that a
doubt or suspicion had lain until now behind his ecstasy. "But," he
added, "consequently, it is my own friends who have spread the rumor of
my marriage. Friends indeed! A wife is a man's only friend. It is hard,
suicidal, to remain a bachelor."
On the appointed day he went too early. Mrs. Canuteson was yet alone.
She was surprised at his congratulatory visit; but, however, as it was
a courtesy, the surprise was mingled with delight, and Bagger was not
the man whose visit a lady would not receive with pleasure. With that
ingenuity of wit one can sometimes have, just when the heart is full
and taken possession of, he did wonders, and entertained the lady in so
lively a manner that she did not perceive how long a time he was
passing with her. As the door at length opened, the lady exclaimed:
"Oh, that is charming! Heartily welcome! Thank you for last time,
[Footnote: In Sweden and Norway when the guest meets the host or
hostess for the first time after an entertainment, the first greeting
on the part of the former is always, "Thank you for the last time."]
and for all the good in your house! How does your mother do? This
amiable young lady's acquaintance I made last summer when we were in
the country, and at last she is so good as to keep her promise and
visit me. Counsellor Bagger--Miss Hjelm."
The Counsellor wasn't sure that it was She, but he was convinced that
it ought to be. Not to speak of Ingeborg Hjelm's being really amiable
and distinguee, his heart was now prepared, as a photographer's glass
which has received collodium, and took the first girl picture that met
it. He was quite afraid that there would come more to choose among. Yet
the fairy brightness of the unknown had at this moment lost itself for
him; for, however brilliant it may appear to the fancy, it cannot be
compared with the warm, beautiful reality, particularly so long as this
itself is new and unknown.
He approached and spoke to Miss Hjelm with painful hidden emotion of
soul. She was friendly and open, for the name Counsellor Bagger did not
occur to her; and the idea she had formed of him did not at all compare
with the young, elegant, handsome man she was now speaking with. True
enough, his manner was somewhat peculiarly gallant, which a lady cannot
easily mistake; but this gallantry was united with such an unmistakable
respect, or more properly awe, that he gave her the impression of a
poetical, knightly nature.
By and by there came more ladies, both married and unmarried, but
Bagger had almost forgotten what errand they could have with him. At
last Miss Brandt came also, accompanied by her sister. As she opened
the door, and saw Bagger by the side of Miss Hjelm, she gave a little,
a very little, cry, or, more properly, gasped aloud for breath, and
made a movement, as if something kept her back.
"Oh! my dress caught," she said, arranged it a little, and then
approached Mrs. Canuteson, with smiling face, to offer her
congratulation.
Bagger looked at the watch: he had been there two hours! After yet
lingering to exchange a few polite words with Miss Brandt, he took
leave. His visit had in all respects been so unusual, and had given
occasion for so much comment, that it required more time than could be
given there; and his name was not at all mentioned after he left.
V.
Now it is certainly true, that whenever Counsellor Bagger was seen for
quite a time, he was mostly dreaming and suffering; and people who have
not themselves experienced something similar, or have not a fancy for
putting themselves in his place, will say, perhaps, that they could
have managed themselves better. But, at all events, it cannot be said,
that from this time forward he was unpractical; for within eight days
from Mrs. Canuteson's birthday he had not only learned where Miss Hjelm
lived, but had established himself in a tavern close by the farm, and
obtained admittance to the house, which last was not so difficult,
since Mrs. Hjelm was a friendly, hospitable lady, and since neither her
daughter nor niece thought they ought to prejudice her against him.
In this manner four or five days passed away, which, to judge from
Bagger's appearance, were to him very pleasant. He wrote to his
colleagues in the Superior Court, that one could only value an autumn
in Nature's lap after so laborious and health-destroying work as his
life for many years had been. Then one day he received a letter from
the unknown, reading thus:
"Be more successful than last time, at Mrs. Emmy Lund's on Tuesday, two
o'clock. Please notice, two o'clock precisely."
"Does she mean so? Is she really coquettish? Yet I think I have been
successful so far," said Bagger to himself, and waited for the Tuesday
with comparative ease; in truth he did not at all understand why he
should be troubled to go to town.
As early on Tuesday forenoon as proper, he went over to the farm, and
was somewhat surprised that there was to be seen no preparation for a
town journey. Ingeborg, in her usual morning dress, was seated at the
sewing-table. He waited until towards twelve o'clock, calculating that
two hours was the least she needed in which to dress and drive to town.
The long hand threatened to touch the short hand at the number twelve,
without any appearance of Ingeborg's noticing it. She only now and then
cast a stealthy look at him, for it had not escaped her, nor the
others, that he was in expectancy and excitement. When the clock struck
twelve,--he was just alone with her,--he asked suddenly, in a quick,
trembling voice:
"Miss Hjelm, you know I am Superior Court Counsellor?"
"No: that I did not know," she said almost with dread, and arose. "No:
that I have never known!"
"But allow me, dear lady, so you know it now," he said, surprised that
the title or profession produced so strong an effect.
"Yes, now I know it," she said, and held her hand upon her heart. "Why
do you tell me that? What does that signify?"
"Nothing else, Miss Hjelm, than that you may understand that I don't
believe in witchcraft."
A speaker's physiognomy is often more intelligible than his words; and
as Miss Hjelm saw the both hearty and spirited or jovial expression in
the counsellor's face, she had not that inclination, which she under
other circumstances would have had, quickly to break off the
conversation and go away. It is possible, also, that his situation as
Superior Court Counsellor--as that counsellor mentioned by Miss
Brandt--did not, after a moment's consideration, appear to her so
dreadful as at the first moment of surprise. So she answered:
"But, Mr. Counsellor, is there then anybody who has accused you of
believing in witchcraft?"
"No, dear madam; but for all that I can assure you, that at the moment
the clock struck twelve I thought that you, by two o'clock, most fly
away in the form of a bird."
"As the clock struck twelve now, at noon?--not at midnight?"
"No, just a little since."
"That is remarkable. Can you satisfy my curiosity, and tell me why?"
"Because under ordinary circumstances it appears to me impossible for a
lady to make her toilette and drive ten miles in less than two hours."
"That is quite true, Mr. Counsellor; but neither do I intend to drive
ten miles to-day."
"It was for that reason that I said, fly."
"Neither fly. And to convince you and quite certainly rid you of the
idea of witchcraft, you can stay here, if you please, until--what time
was it?"
"Two o'clock."
"That is two long hours; but the Counsellor can, if he please, lay that
offering upon the altar of education."
"Oh! I know another altar, upon which I would rather offer the two only
all too short hours"--.
"Let it now be upon that of education. You promised my cousin and me
that you would read to us about popular science of nature and
interesting facts in the life of animals."
"Yes, dear madam; but _I_ cannot fly: my carriage stands waiting at the
tavern."
"Oh, I beg pardon! an agreeable journey, Mr. Counsellor."
"Yes; but I don't understand why I shall drive the ten miles."
"Every one knows his own concerns best."
"Oh, yes! that is true. But I at least don't know mine."
Miss Hjelm made no answer to this, and there was a little pause.
"I would," continued the counsellor, somewhat puzzled, "take the great
liberty to propose that you should ride with me."
"I have already told the Counsellor that I did not intend to go to town
to-day," answered Miss Hjelm, coldly.
"Yes," continued Bagger, following his own ideas, "and so I thought,
also, that we could as well stay here."
At this moment Bagger was so earnest and impassioned, that Ingeborg, in
hearing words so very wide of what she regarded as reasonable, began to
suspect his mind of being a little disordered, and with an inquiring
anxiousness looked at him.
Meeting the look from these eyes, Bagger could no longer continue the
inquisition which he had carried on for the sake of involving Miss
Hjelm in self-contradiction and bringing her to confession. He himself
came to confession, and exclaimed:
"Miss Ingeborg, I ask you for Heaven's sake have pity on me, and tell
me if you expect me at two o'clock to-day at Mrs. Lund's!"
"I expect you at Mrs. Lund's!" exclaimed Miss Hjelm.
"Is it not you, then, who have written me that--"
"I have never written to you!" cried Ingeborg, and almost tore away the
hand which Bagger tried to hold.
"For God's sake, don't go, Miss--! My dear madam, you must forgive me:
you shall know all!"
And now he began to tell his tale, not according to rules of rhetoric
and logic, but on the contrary in a way which certainly showed how
little even our abler lawyers are educated to extemporize.
But, however, there was in his words a certain almost wild eloquence;
and, beside, Miss Hjelm had some foreknowledge, that helped her to
understand and fill up what was wanting under the counsellor's restless
eloquence. At last he came to the point; while his words were of
whirlwind and letters, his tone and eye spoke, unconsciously to him, a
true, honest, though fanciful language of passion; and however comical
a disinterested spectator might have found it, it sounded very earnest
to her who was the object and sympathetic listener.
"Yes; but what then?" at last asked Ingeborg, with a soft smile and not
withdrawing the hand that Bagger had seized. "The proper meaning of
what you have told me is that your troth is plighted to another,
unknown lady."
"No: that isn't the proper meaning--"
"But yet it is a fact. At the moment when you stand at the altar with
one, another can step forward and claim you."
"Oh, that kind of a claim! A piece of paper without signature, sent
away in the air! In law it has no validity at all, and morally it has
no power, when I love another as I love you, Ingeborg!"
"That I am not sure of. It appears to me there is something painful in
not being faithful to one's youth and its promises, and in the
consciousness of having deceived another."
"You say this so earnestly, Ingeborg, that you make me desperate. I
confess that there is something ... something I would wish otherwise
... but for Heaven's sake, make it not so earnest!"
As Ingeborg knew so well about it, she could not regard the matter as
earnestly as her words denoted; but for another reason she had suddenly
conceived or felt an earnestness. It would not do to have a husband
with so much fancy as Bagger, always having something unknown,
fairy-like, lying out upon the horizon, holding claim upon him from his
youth; and on the other hand it was against her principles,
notwithstanding her confidence in his silence, to convey to him the
knowledge that it was Miss Brandt who played fairy.
She said to him, "You must have your letter, your obligation, your
marriage promise back."
"Yes," he answered with a sigh of discouragement: "it is true enough I
ought; but where shall I turn? That is just the immeasurable
difficulty."
"Write by the same mail as before."
"Which?"
"Let the whirlwind, that brought the first letter to its destination,
also take care of this, in which you demand your word back."
"Oh, that you do not mean! Or, if you mean it, then I may honestly
confess that I am not young any more or have not received another
youth. I have not courage to write anything, for fear it should come to
others than to you."
"So I see that, after all, I may act as witch to-day. Write, and I will
take care of the letter: do you hesitate?"
"No: only it took me a moment to comprehend the promise involved in
this that you will take care of my letter. I obey you blindly; but what
shall I write?"
"Write: 'Dear fairy,--Since I woo Miss Hjelm's hand and heart,'--"
"Oh, you acknowledge it! O Ingeborg, the Lord's blessing upon you!"
said Bagger, and would rise.
"'I ask you to send me my billet back.'--Have you that?"
"Yes, Ingeborg, my Ingeborg, my unspeakably loved Ingeborg! How poor
language is, when the heart is so full!"
"Now, name, date, and address. Have you that? 'Postscriptum. I give you
my word of honor, that I neither know who you are, or how this letter
shall reach you.'--Have you that?"
"That I can truly give. I am as blind as"...