Some days passed. I was growing tired of my empty occupation, which
consisted in doing nothing but loaf about the place. I went to the
foreman of the gang and asked him to take me on as a lumberman, but he
refused.
These gentlemen of the proletariat think a good deal of themselves; they
look down on farm-workers, and will have nothing to do with them. They
are ever on the move, going from one waterway to another, drawing their
wages in cash, and spending a fair part of the same in drink. Then, too,
they are more popular among the girls. It is the same with men working
on the roads or railways, with all factory-hands; even the mechanic is
looked down upon, and as for the farm-hand, he is a very slave!
Now, I knew I could be pretty sure of a place in the gang any day if I
cared to ask the engineer. But, in the first place, I had no wish to be
further indebted to him, and in the second, I might be sure that if I
did, my friends the lumbermen would make my life a misery until I had
gone through all the trouble of making myself respected for my deserts.
And that might take longer than I cared about.
And then one day the engineer came to me with instructions that I was to
observe with care. He spoke politely and sensibly this time:
“We've had no rain for a long time now; the river's getting steadily
lower, and the logs are piling up on the way down. I want you to tell
the man above and the one below to be extra careful about their work
just now, and you yourself, of course, will do the same.”
“We're sure to get rain before long,” I said, for the sake of saying
something.
“That may be,” he answered, with the intense earnestness of youth, “but
I must act all the same as if there were never to be rain again. Now
remember every word I've said. I can't be everywhere at once myself,
more especially now that I've a visitor.”
I answered him with a face as serious as his own that I would do my very
best.
So I was still bound to my idling occupation after all, and wandered up
and down the river as before with my boat-hook and my rations. For my
own satisfaction I cleared away bigger and bigger jams unaided, sang to
myself as if I were a whole gang, and worked hard enough for many men;
also I carried the new instructions to Grindhusen, and frightened him
properly.
But then came the rain.
And now the sticks went dancing down through channel and rapids, like
huge, pale serpents hurrying, hurrying on, now head, now tail in air.
Easy days these for my engineer!
For myself, I was ill at ease in the town and in my lodging there. I had
a little room to myself, but one could hear every sound in the place,
and there was little rest or comfort. Moreover, I found myself outdone
in everything by the young lumbermen who lodged there.
I patroled the river-bank regularly those days, though there was little
or nothing for me to do there. I would steal away and sit in hiding
under an over-hanging rock, hugging the thought of how I was old, and
forsaken by all; in the evenings I wrote many letters to people I knew,
just to have some one to talk to; but I did not send the letters.
Joyless days were these. My chief pleasure was to go about noticing
every little trifle in the town, wherever it might be, and thinking a
little upon each.
But was my engineer so free from care? I began to doubt it.
Why was he no longer to be seen out early and late with this new cousin
of his? He would even stop another young lady on the bridge and pass the
time of day--a thing he had not done this fortnight gone. I had seen
him with Fru Falkenberg once or twice; she looked so young and prettily
dressed, and happy--a little reckless, laughing out loud. That's what
it's like when a woman first steps aside, I thought to myself; but
to-morrow or the day after it may be different! And when I saw her again
later on I was annoyed with her; there was something overbold about her
dress and manner, the old charm and sweetness were gone. Where was the
tenderness now in her eyes? Nothing but bravado! And furiously I told
myself that her eyes shone like a pair of lamps at the door of a music
hall.
By the look of things the couple had begun to weary of each other, since
he had taken to going out alone, and she spend much of her time sitting
looking out of the window in the hotel. And this, no doubt, was why
stout Captain Bror made his appearance once again; his mission was
perhaps to bring jollity and mirth to others besides himself. And this
jovial lump of deformity certainly did his best; his guffaws of laughter
rang through the little town one whole night long. Then his leave
expired, and he had to go back to drill and duty--Fru Falkenberg and her
Hugo were left to themselves once more.
One day, while I was in a shop, I heard that there had been some
slight difference of opinion between Engineer Lassen and his cousin.
A commercial traveller was telling the shopkeeper all about it. But so
great was the general respect for the wealthy engineer throughout the
town that the shopman would hardly believe the story, and questioned the
scandal-monger doubtingly.
“It must have been in fun, I'm sure. Did you hear it yourself? When was
it?”
The traveller himself did not dare to make more of it.
“My room's next to his,” he said, “so I couldn't help hearing it last
night. They were arguing; I don't say it was a quarrel--lord, no! as
delicate as could be. She only said he was different now from what he
had been; that he'd changed somehow. And he said it wasn't his fault, he
couldn't do as he liked here in town. Then she asked him to get rid of
somebody she didn't like--one of his men, a lumberman, I suppose. And he
promised he would.”
“Well, there you are--just nothing at all,” said the shopkeeper.
But the traveller had heard more, I fancy, than he cared to say. I could
tell as much by his looks.
And had I not noticed myself how the engineer had changed? He had talked
out loud so cheerfully at the station that first day; now he could be
obstinately silent when he did go so far as to take Fruen for a walk
down to the bridge. I could see well enough how they stood looking each
their separate ways. Lord God in heaven, but love is a fleeting thing!
All went well enough at first. She said, no doubt, that it was quite a
nice little place, with a great big river and the rapids, and so strange
to hear the roar of the waters all the time; and here was a real little
town with streets and people in--“And then you here, too!” And he of
course, would answer: “Yes, and you!” Oh, they were everything to each
other at first! But then they grew weary of good things; they took too
much--took love in handfuls, such was their foolishness. And more and
more clearly he realized that things were getting awry; the town was
such a little place, and this cousin of his a stranger--he could not
keep on being her attendant squire for ever. No, they must ease off
a little gradually; now and then, perhaps--only occasionally, of
course--it would be as well to have their meals at different times. If
not, some of those commercial travellers would be getting ideas into
their heads about the loving cousins. Remember, in a little place like
this--and she ... how _could_ she understand it? A little place--yes,
but surely it was no smaller now than it had been at first? No, no, my
friend, it is you that have changed!
* * * * *
There had been plenty of rain, and the timber was coming down
beautifully. Nevertheless, the engineer took to going off on little
trips up or down the river. It seemed as if he were glad to get away; he
looked worried and miserable altogether now.
One day he asked me to go up and tell Grindhusen to come in to town. Was
it Grindhusen, I wondered, that was to be dismissed? But Fruen had never
so much as set eyes on Grindhusen since she came; what could he have
done to offend her?
I fetched Grindhusen in accordingly. He went up to the hotel at once to
report, and the engineer put on his things and went out with him. They
set out up the river and disappeared.
Later in the day Grindhusen came to my lodging, and was ready enough
to tell, but I asked him nothing. In the evening the lumberman gave him
_Brændevin_, and the spirit loosened his tongue. What about this cousin,
or something, engineer has got with him? How much longer was she going
to stay? As to this, nobody could say; and, anyhow, why shouldn't
she stay? “'Tis naught but fooling and trouble with such-like cousin
business,” Grindhusen declared. “Why couldn't he bring along the girl
he's going to marry?--and I told him so to his face.”
“You told him?” asked one of the men.
“Ay, I did that. You may not know it, but engineer and I we sit there
talking as it might be me and you,” said Grindhusen, looking mighty big
and proud. “What do you suppose he sent to fetch me for? You'd never
guess if you sat there all night. Why, he sent for me just to have a
talk over things. Not that there's anything new or strange about that;
he's done the same before now; but, anyhow, that's what it was.”
“What'd he want to talk to you about?” asked one.
Grindhusen swelled, and was not to be drawn at once. “Eh, I'm not such
a fool, but I know how to talk with a man. And it's not my way to
be contrary neither. 'You know a thing or two, Grindhusen,' says the
Inspector, 'and there's two Kroner for you,' says he. Ay, that's what
he said. And if you don't believe me, why, here's the money, and you can
see. There!”
“But what was it all about?” asked several voices at once.
“He'd better not say, if you ask me,” I said.
It struck me that the engineer must have been miserable and desperate
when he sent me to fetch Grindhusen. He was so little used to trouble
that the moment anything went wrong he felt the need of some one to
confide in. And now when he was going about day after day, thoroughly
disheartened and full of pity for himself, as if he wanted to know how
miserable he was at being checked in his play. This sportsman, with his
figure moulded in the wrong place, was a travesty of youth, a Spartan in
tears. What sort of upbringing could his have been?
Ah, well, if he had been an old man I had found reason and excuse for
him enough; if the truth were known, it was perhaps but hatred of his
youth that moved me now. Who can say? But I know I looked upon him as a
travesty, a caricature.
Grindhusen stared at me when I had spoken my few words; the others, too,
looked wonderingly.
“I'll not say, but it might be better not,” said Grindhusen
submissively.
But the men were not to be put off.
“And why shouldn't he tell? We're not going to let it go farther.”
“No, that we shan't,” said another. “But you might be one of that sort
yourself and go telling tales to the Inspector.”
Grindhusen took courage at this, and said:
“I'll say what I like, so don't you trouble yourself! Tell just as much
as I please. For I'm saying no more than's true. And in case you'd care
to know, I can tell you the Inspector's got a word to say to you very
soon. Ay, that he has, or hearing goes for nothing. So you've no call
to be anyway stuck up yourself. And as for me telling or not telling
things, I'm saying never a thing but what's the truth. Just remember
that. And if you knew as much as I do, she's nothing but a plague and
a burden to him all the time, and won't let him out of her sight. D'you
call that cousins, going on like that?”
“Nay, surely; nay, surely!” said the men encouragingly.
“What d'you think he sent for me about? Ay, there's the pretty fellow he
sent up with the message! But there'll be a message for him one of these
days: I gathered as much from the Inspector himself. I'll say no more
than that. And as for me telling things, here's Inspector's been like a
father to me, and I'd be a stock and a stone to say otherwise. 'I'm all
upset and worried these days, Grindhusen,' says he to me. 'And what's a
man to do; can you tell me that now?' 'No,' says I, 'but Inspector knows
himself,' says I. Those very words I said. 'I wish to Heaven I did,'
says he again. 'But it's all these wretched women,' says he. 'If it's
women,' says I, 'why, there's no doing anything with them,' says I. 'No,
indeed, you're right there!' says he. 'The only way's to give them
what they were made for, and a good round slap on the backside into the
bargain,' says I. 'By Heaven, I believe you're right there, Grindhusen,'
says the Inspector, and he brightened up no end. I've never seen a man
so brightened up and cheerful just for a word or so. It was a sight to
see. And you can take and drown me if it isn't gospel truth every single
bit I've said. I sat there just as I'm sitting now, and Inspector as it
might be there....”
And Grindhusen rambled on.
* * * * *
Next morning early, before it was fairly light, Engineer Lassen stopped
me on the street. It was only half-past three. I was all fitted out for
a tramp up the river, with my boat-hook and a store of food. Grindhusen
was having a drinking-bout in town, and I was going to do his beat as
well as my own. That would take me right up to the top of the hills, and
I had packed a double stock of food accordingly.
The engineer was evidently coming down from a party somewhere; he was
laughing and talking loudly with a couple of other men, all of them more
or less drunk.
“Go on ahead a bit,” he said to the others. And then, turning to me, he
asked: “Where are you off to?”