Part of September had passed; the weather was cool, the sky clear and
high; the city was free from dust and dirt; the city was beautiful. As yet
no snow had fallen on the mountains.
Event had followed event; Ole Henriksen's suicide had only caused a
passing sensation. The shot down there in the young business man's office
had not been followed by a very loud or reverberating echo; days and weeks
had come and gone, and nobody mentioned it any more. Only Tidemand could
not forget.
Tidemand was busier than ever. He had to assist Ole's father for a while;
the old man did not want to retire, but he made the chief assistant his
partner and carried on the business as before; he did not allow his sorrow
to break him down. Old man Henriksen proved that he was not too old to
work when circumstances required it.
And Tidemand was unceasing in his efforts. His rye was at last dwindling;
he sold heavily at advancing prices now winter was approaching; his losses
were diminishing. He had to take back still more of his old employees; he
was shipping tar; to-morrow a new cargo was to sail.
He had finished the preparations, made out the papers, taken out his
insurance; it was all done. Before he turned to something else he lit a
cigar and reflected. It was about four in the afternoon. He went over to
the window and looked out. While he stood there a gentle knock was heard;
his wife entered. She asked if she disturbed him; it was only a small
matter of business....
She wore a heavy veil.
Tidemand threw away his cigar. He had not seen her for weeks, long, weary
weeks; one evening he had thought he recognised her in a lady whose walk
was somewhat similar to hers; he had followed this lady a long time before
he discovered that he was mistaken. He had never objected to her coming,
and she knew it; still, she did not come. She had probably forgotten both
him and the children; it looked that way. And, although he had strolled
around the streets near the Fortress many a night when it was too lonely
at home and at times seen a light in her window, her he had never seen.
What could she be doing? He had sent her money occasionally in order to
hear from her.
Now she stood there before him, only a few steps away.
"So you have come?" he said at last.
"Yes, I have come," she answered. "I had--I wanted to--" And suddenly she
commenced to fumble with her hand-bag; she brought forth a package of
money which she placed before him on the desk. Her hands trembled so
violently that she disarranged the bills, she even dropped a few; she
stooped down and picked them up and stammered: "Take it, please; don't say
no! It is money which I have used for--which I have put to unworthy uses.
Spare me from saying what I have used it for; it is too degrading. There
ought to be much more, but I couldn't delay any longer; there ought to be
twice as much, but I was too impatient to wait until I could bring it all.
Take it, please! I shall bring you the rest later; but I simply had to
come to-day!"
He interrupted her, much annoyed:
"But will you never understand? You bring up this subject of money for
ever! Why are you saving money for me? I have all I need; the business is
very profitable, increasingly so; I don't need it, I tell you--"
"But this money is altogether a different matter," she said timidly. "It
is for my own sake I give it to you. If I hadn't been able to think that I
might repay it I never could have endured life. I have counted and counted
every day and waited until I should have enough. I was wrong in saying
that it was only half; it is at least three-fourths--Oh, how I have
suffered under the disgrace--"
And suddenly he understood why she had wanted to bring him this money. He
took it and thanked her. He did not know what to say except that it was a
lot of money, quite a lot. But could she spare it? Surely? For he really
would be glad if she would let him have it for the present; he could use
it in the business. As a matter of fact, it was most fortunate that she
had come just now; he needed some money, he was not ashamed to confess
it....
He watched her closely and saw the joy well up in her; her eyes sparkled
beneath her veil, and she said:
"God, how happy I am that I came to-day, after all!"
This voice! Oh, this voice! He remembered it so well from their first
delightful days. He had walked around the edge of the desk; now he stepped
back again, bewildered by her proximity, her lovely form, her radiant eyes
beneath the veil. He dropped his own.
"And how are you?" she asked, "and the children?"
"Fine, thank you. The children are growing out of their clothes. We are
all well. And you?"
"I have heard nothing from you for so long. I had intended to wait until I
could bring it all to you, but it was beyond my strength. While Ole lived
he told me about you; but since I cannot go to him any more I have been
very impatient. I was here yesterday, but I didn't come in; I turned
back--"
Should he ask her to go up to the children a moment?
"Perhaps you would like to go up-stairs a moment?" he asked. "The children
will be delighted. I don't know how the house looks, but if you don't
mind--"
"I thank you!"
He saw how deeply she was moved, although she said nothing more. She gave
him her hand in farewell. "I hope they will know me," she said.
"I'll be up in a moment," he remarked. "I haven't much to do just now.
Perhaps you would like to stay awhile? Here is the key; you need not ring.
But be careful of their shoes if you take them on your lap. Well, don't
laugh; God knows if their shoes aren't muddy!"
Hanka went. He opened the door for her and followed her to the foot of the
stairs; then he returned to his office.
He walked over to the desk, but he did not work. There she had stood! She
wore her black velvet dress to-day; she was up-stairs. Could he go up now?
He did not hear the children; they were probably in her lap. He hoped they
had on their red dresses.
He walked up-stairs, a prey to the strangest emotions. He knocked on the
door as if it were somebody else's home he was entering. Hanka got up at
once when she saw him.
She had taken off her veil; she flushed deeply. He could see now why she
used a veil. The joyless days in her solitary room had not left her
unmarked; her face spoke plainly of her sufferings. Johanna and Ida stood
beside her and clung to her dress; they did not remember her clearly; they
looked at her questioningly and were silent.
"They don't know me," said Mrs. Hanka, and sat down again. "I have asked
them."
"Yes, I know you," said Johanna, and crawled up into her lap. Ida did the
same.
Tidemand looked at them unsteadily.
"You mustn't crawl all over mamma, children," he said. "Don't bother mamma
now."
They didn't hear him; they wanted to bother mamma. She had rings on her
fingers and she had the strangest buttons on her dress; that was something
to interest them! They began to chatter about these buttons; they caught
sight of the mother's brooch and had many remarks to make about that.
"Put them down when you are tired of them," said Tidemand.
Tired? She? Let them be, let them be!
They spoke about Ole; they mentioned Aagot. Tidemand wanted to look her up
some day. Ole had asked him to do it; he felt, in a way, responsible for
her. But the nurse came and wanted to put the children to bed.
However, the children had no idea of going to bed; they refused
pointblank. And Hanka had to come along, follow them into their bed-room,
and get them settled for the night. She looked around. Everything was as
it used to be. There were the two little beds, the coverlets, the tiny
pillows, the picture-books, the toys. And when they were in bed she had to
sing to them; they simply wouldn't keep still but crawled out of bed
continually and chattered on.
Tidemand watched this awhile with blinking eyes; then he turned quickly
away and went out.
In half an hour or so Hanka came back.
"They are asleep now," she said.
"I was wondering if I might ask you to stay," said Tidemand. "We live
rather informally here; we keep house in a way, but nothing seems to go
right for us. If you would like to have dinner with us--I don't know what
they are going to give us to eat, but if you will take things as they
are?"