_Old_ AGNETE 219
_The Fisherman's_ RING 231
_Santa_ CATERINA _of_ SIENA 257
_The Empress's_ MONEY-CHEST 277
_The_ PEACE _of_ GOD 291
_A_ STORY _from_ HALSTANÄS 309
_The_ INSCRIPTION _on the_ GRAVE 323
_The_ BROTHERS 339
_From a Swedish_ HOMESTEAD
I
_The_ STORY _of a_ COUNTRY HOUSE
_The_ STORY _of a_ COUNTRY HOUSE
I
It was a beautiful autumn day towards the end of the thirties. There was
in Upsala at that time a high, yellow, two-storied house, which stood
quite alone in a little meadow on the outskirts of the town. It was a
rather desolate and dismal-looking house, but was rendered less so by
the Virginia-creepers which grew there in profusion, and which had crept
so high up the yellow wall on the sunny side of the house that they
completely surrounded the three windows on the upper story.
At one of these windows a student was sitting, drinking his morning
coffee. He was a tall, handsome fellow, of distinguished appearance. His
hair was brushed back from his forehead; it curled prettily, and a lock
was continually falling into his eyes. He wore a loose, comfortable
suit, but looked rather smart all the same.
His room was well furnished. There was a good sofa and comfortable
chairs, a large writing-table, a capital bookcase, but hardly any books.
Before he had finished his coffee another student entered the room. The
new-comer was a totally different-looking man. He was a short,
broad-shouldered fellow, squarely built and strong, ugly, with a large
head, thin hair, and coarse complexion.
'Hede,' he said, 'I have come to have a serious talk with you.'
'Has anything unpleasant happened to you?'
'Oh no, not to me,' the other answered; 'it is really you it concerns.'
He sat silent for a while, and looked down. 'It is so awfully unpleasant
having to tell you.'
'Leave it alone, then,' suggested Hede.
He felt inclined to laugh at his friend's solemnity.
'I can't leave it alone any longer,' said his visitor. 'I ought to have
spoken to you long ago, but it is hardly my place. You understand? I
can't help thinking you will say to yourself: "There's Gustaf Alin, son
of one of our cottagers, thinks himself such a great man now that he can
order me about."'
'My dear fellow,' Hede said, 'don't imagine I think anything of the
kind. My father's father was a peasant's son.'
'Yes, but no one thinks of that now,' Alin answered. He sat there,
looking awkward and stupid, resuming every moment more and more of his
peasant manners, as if that could help him out of his difficulty. 'When
I think of the difference there is between your family and mine, I feel
as if I ought to keep quiet; but when I remember that it was your father
who, by his help in days gone by, enabled me to study, then I feel that
I must speak.'
Hede looked at him with a pleasant smile.
'You had better speak out and have done with it,' he said.
'The thing is,' Alin said, 'I have heard people say that you don't do
any work. They say you have hardly opened a book during the four terms
you have been at the University. They say you don't do anything but play
on the violin the whole day; and that I can quite believe, for you never
wanted to do anything else when you were at school in Falu, although
there you were obliged to work.'
Hede straightened himself a little in his chair. Alin grew more and more
uncomfortable, but he continued with stubborn resolution:
'I suppose you think that anyone owning an estate like Munkhyttan ought
to be able to do as he likes--work if he likes, or leave it alone. If he
takes his exam., good; if he does not take his exam., what does it
matter? for in any case you will never be anything but a landed
proprietor and iron-master. You will live at Munkhyttan all your life. I
understand quite well that is what you must think.'
Hede was silent, and Alin seemed to see him surrounded by the same wall
of distinction which in Alin's eyes had always surrounded his father,
the Squire, and his mother.
'But, you see, Munkhyttan is no longer what it used to be when there was
iron in the mine,' he continued cautiously. 'The Squire knew that very
well, and that was why it was arranged before his death that you should
study. Your poor mother knows it, too, and the whole parish knows it.
The only one who does not know anything is you, Hede.'
'Don't you think I know,' Hede said a little irritably, 'that the
iron-mine cannot be worked any longer?'
'Oh yes,' Alin said, 'I dare say you know that much, but you don't know
that it is all up with the property. Think the matter over, and you will
understand that one cannot live from farming alone at Vesterdalarne. I
cannot understand why your mother has kept it a secret from you. But, of
course, she has the sole control of the estate, so she need not ask your
advice about anything. Everybody at home knows that she is hard up. They
say she drives about borrowing money. I suppose she did not want to
disturb you with her troubles, but thought that she could keep matters
going until you had taken your degree. She will not sell the estate
before you have finished, and made yourself a new home.'
Hede rose, and walked once or twice up and down the floor. Then he
stopped opposite Alin.
'But what on earth are you driving at, Alin? Do you want to make me
believe that we are not rich?'
'I know quite well that, until lately, you have been considered rich
people at home,' Alin said. 'But you can understand that things must
come to an end when it is a case of always spending and never earning
anything. It was a different thing when you had the mine.'
Hede sat down again.
'My mother would surely have told me if there were anything the matter,'
he said. 'I am grateful to you, Alin; but you have allowed yourself to
be frightened by some silly stories.'
'I thought that you did not know anything,' Alin continued obstinately.
'At Munkhyttan your mother saves and works in order to get the money to
keep you at Upsala, and to make it cheerful and pleasant for you when
you are at home in the vacations. And in the meantime you are here doing
nothing, because you don't know there is trouble coming. I could not
stand any longer seeing you deceiving each other. Her ladyship thought
you were studying, and you thought she was rich. I could not let you
destroy your prospects without saying anything.'
Hede sat quietly for a moment, and meditated. Then he rose and gave Alin
his hand with rather a sad smile.
'You understand that I feel you are speaking the truth, even if I _will_
not believe you? Thanks.'
Alin joyfully shook his hand.
'You must know, Hede, that if you will only work no harm is done. With
your brains, you can take your degree in three or four years.'
Hede straightened himself.
'Do not be uneasy, Alin,' he said; 'I am going to work hard now.'
Alin rose and went towards the door, but hesitated. Before he reached it
he turned round.
'There was something else I wanted,' he said. He again became
embarrassed. 'I want you to lend me your violin until you have commenced
reading in earnest.'
'Lend you my violin?'
'Yes; pack it up in a silk handkerchief, and put it in the case, and let
me take it with me, or otherwise you will read to no purpose. You will
begin to play as soon as I am out of the room. You are so accustomed to
it now you cannot resist if you have it here. One cannot get over that
kind of thing unless someone helps one; it gets the mastery over one.'
Hede appeared unwilling.
'This is madness, you know,' he said.
'No, Hede, it is not. You know you have inherited it from the Squire. It
runs in your blood. Ever since you have been your own master here in
Upsala you have done nothing else but play. You live here in the
outskirts of the town simply not to disturb anyone by your playing. You
cannot help yourself in this matter. Let me have the violin.'
'Well,' said Hede, 'before I could not help playing, but now Munkhyttan
is at stake; I am more fond of my home than of my violin.'
But Alin was determined, and continued to ask for the violin.
'What is the good of it?' Hede said. 'If I want to play, I need not go
many steps to borrow another violin.'
'I know that,' Alin replied, 'but I don't think it would be so bad with
another violin. It is your old Italian violin which is the greatest
danger for you. And besides, I would suggest your locking yourself in
for the first few days--only until you have got fairly started.'
He begged and begged, but Hede resisted; he would not stand anything so
unreasonable as being a prisoner in his own room.
Alin grew crimson.
'I must have the violin with me,' he said, 'or it is no use at all.' He
spoke eagerly and excitedly. 'I had not intended to say anything about
it, but I know that it concerns more than Munkhyttan. I saw a young girl
at the Promotion Ball in the spring who, people said, was engaged to
you. I don't dance, you know, but I liked to watch her when she was
dancing, looking radiant like one of the lilies of the field. And when I
heard that she was engaged to you, I felt sorry for her.'
'Why?'
'Because I knew that you would never succeed if you continued as you had
begun. And then I swore that she should not have to spend her whole life
waiting for one who never came. She should not sit and wither whilst
waiting for you. I did not want to meet her in a few years with
sharpened features and deep wrinkles round her mouth----'
He stopped suddenly; Hede's glance had rested so searchingly upon him.
But Gunnar Hede had already understood that Alin was in love with his
_fiancée_. It moved him deeply that Alin under these circumstances tried
to save him, and, influenced by this feeling, he yielded and gave him
the violin.
When Alin had gone, Hede read desperately for a whole hour, but then he
threw away his book.
It was not of much good his reading. It would be three or four years
before he could be finished, and who could guarantee that the estate
would not be sold in the meantime?
He felt almost with terror how deeply he loved the old home. It was like
witchery. Every room, every tree, stood clearly before him. He felt he
could not part with any of it if he were to be happy. And he was to sit
quietly with his books whilst all this was about to pass away from him.
He became more and more restless; he felt the blood beating in his
temples as if in a fever. And then he grew quite beside himself because
he could not take his violin and play himself calm again.
'My God!' he said, 'Alin will drive me mad. First to tell me all this,
and then to take away my violin! A man like I must feel the bow between
his fingers in sorrow and in joy. I must do something; I must get money,
but I have not an idea in my head. I cannot think without my violin.'
He could not endure the feeling of being locked in. He was so angry with
Alin, who had thought of this absurd plan, that he was afraid he might
strike him the next time he came.
Of course he would have played, if he had had the violin, for that was
just what he needed. His blood rushed so wildly, that he was nearly
going out of his mind.
Just as Hede was longing most for his violin a wandering musician began
to play outside. It was an old blind man. He played out of tune and
without expression, but Hede was so overcome by hearing a violin just at
this moment that he listened with tears in his eyes and with his hands
folded.
The next moment he flung open the window and climbed to the ground by
the help of the creepers. He had no compunction at leaving his work. He
thought the violin had simply come to comfort him in his misfortune.
Hede had probably never before begged so humbly for anything as he did
now, when he asked the old blind man to lend him his violin. He stood
the whole time with his cap in his hand, although the old man was blind.
The musician did not seem to understand what he wanted. He turned to the
young girl who was leading him. Hede bowed to the poor girl and repeated
his request. She looked at him, as if she must have eyes for them both.
The glance from her big eyes was so steady that Hede thought he could
feel where it struck him. It began with his collar, and it noticed that
the frills of his shirt were well starched, then it saw that his coat
was brushed, next that his boots were polished.
Hede had never before been subjected to such close scrutiny. He saw
clearly that he would not pass muster before those eyes.
But it was not so, all the same. The young girl had a strange way of
smiling. Her face was so serious, that one had the impression when she
smiled that it was the first and only time she had ever looked happy;
and now one of these rare smiles passed over her lips. She took the
violin from the old man and handed it to Hede.
'Play the waltz from "Freischütz," then,' she said.
Hede thought it was strange that he should have to play a waltz just at
that moment, but, as a matter of fact, it was all the same to him what
he played, if he could only have a bow in his hand. That was all he
wanted. The violin at once began to comfort him; it spoke to him in
faint, cracked tones.
'I am only a poor man's violin,' it said; 'but such as I am, I am a
comfort and help to a poor blind man. I am the light and the colour and
the brightness in his life. It is I who must comfort him in his poverty
and old age and blindness.'
Hede felt that the terrible depression that had cowed his hopes began to
give way.
'You are young and strong,' the violin said to him. 'You can fight and
strive; you can hold fast that which tries to escape you. Why are you
downcast and without courage?'
Hede had played with lowered eyes; now he threw back his head and looked
at those who stood around him. There was quite a crowd of children and
people from the street, who had come into the yard to listen to the
music. It appeared, however, that they had not come solely for the sake
of the music. The blind man and his companion were not the only ones in
the troupe.
Opposite Hede stood a figure in tights and spangles, and with bare arms
crossed over his chest. He looked old and worn, but Hede could not help
thinking that he looked a devil of a fellow with his high chest and long
moustaches. And beside him stood his wife, little and fat, and not so
very young either, but beaming with joy over her spangles and flowing
gauze skirts.
During the first bars of the music they stood still and counted, then a
gracious smile passed over their faces, and they took each other's hands
and began to dance on a small carpet. And Hede saw that during all the
equilibristic tricks they now performed the woman stood almost still,
whilst her husband did all the work. He sprang over her, and twirled
round her, and vaulted over her. The woman scarcely did anything else
but kiss her hand to the spectators.
But Hede did not really take much notice of them. His bow began to fly
over the strings. It told him that there was happiness in fighting and
overcoming. It almost deemed him happy because everything was at stake
for him. Hede stood there, playing courage and hope into himself, and
did not think of the old tight-rope dancers.
But suddenly he saw that they grew restless. They no longer smiled; they
left off kissing their hands to the spectators; the acrobat made
mistakes, and his wife began to sway to and fro in waltz time.
Hede played more and more eagerly. He left off 'Freischütz' and rushed
into an old 'Nixie Polka,' one which generally sent all the people mad
when played at the peasant festivals.
The old tight-rope dancers quite lost their heads. They stood in
breathless astonishment, and at last they could resist no longer. They
sprang into each other's arms, and then they began to dance a waltz in
the middle of the carpet.
How they danced! dear me, how they danced! They took small, tripping
steps, and whirled round in a small circle; they hardly went outside the
carpet, and their faces beamed with joy and delight. There was the
happiness of youth and the rapture of love over these two old people.
The whole crowd was jubilant at seeing them dance. The serious little
companion of the blind man smiled all over her face, and Hede grew much
excited.
Just fancy what an effect his violin could have! It made people quite
forget themselves. It was a great power to have at his disposal. Any
moment he liked he could take possession of his kingdom. Only a couple
of years' study abroad with a great master, and he could go all over the
world, and by his playing earn riches and honour and fame.
It seemed to Hede that these acrobats must have come to tell him this.
That was the road he should follow; it lay before him clear and smooth.
He said to himself: 'I will--I _will_ become a musician! I _must_ be
one! This is better than studying. I can charm my fellow-men with my
violin; I can become rich.'
Hede stopped playing. The acrobats at once came up and complimented him.
The man said his name was Blomgren. That was his real name; he had other
names when he performed. He and his wife were old circus people. Mrs.
Blomgren in former days had been called Miss Viola, and had performed on
horseback; and although they had now left the circus, they were still
true artists--artists body and soul. That he had probably already
noticed; that was why they could not resist his violin.
Hede walked about with the acrobats for a couple of hours. He could not
part with the violin, and the old artists' enthusiasm for their
profession appealed to him. He was simply testing himself. 'I want to
find out whether there is the proper stuff for an artist in me. I want
to see if I can call forth enthusiasm. I want to see whether I can make
children and idlers follow me from house to house.'
On their way from house to house Mr. Blomgren threw an old threadbare
mantle around him, and Mrs. Blomgren enveloped herself in a brown cloak.
Thus arrayed, they walked at Hede's side and talked.
Mr. Blomgren would not speak of all the honour he and Mrs. Blomgren had
received during the time they had performed in a real circus; but the
_directeur_ had given Mrs. Blomgren her dismissal under the pretence
that she was getting too stout. Mr. Blomgren had not been dismissed: he
had himself resigned his position. Surely no one could think that Mr.
Blomgren would remain with a _directeur_ who had dismissed his wife!
Mrs. Blomgren loved her art, and for her sake Mr. Blomgren had made up
his mind to live as a free artist, so that she could still continue to
perform. During the winter, when it was too cold to give performances in
the street, they performed in a tent. They had a very comprehensive
repertoire. They gave pantomimes, and were jugglers and conjurers.
The circus had cast them off, but Art had not, said Mr. Blomgren. They
served Art always. It was well worth being faithful to Art, even unto
death. Always artists--always. That was Mr. Blomgren's opinion, and it
was also Mrs. Blomgren's.
Hede walked quietly and listened. His thoughts flew restlessly from plan
to plan. Sometimes events happen which become like symbols, like signs,
which one must obey. There must be some meaning in what had now happened
to him. If he could only understand it rightly, it might help him
towards arriving at a wise resolution.
Mr. Blomgren asked the student to notice the young girl who was leading
the blind man. Had he ever before seen such eyes? Did he not think that
such eyes must mean something? Could one have those eyes without being
intended for something great?
Hede turned round and looked at the little pale girl. Yes, she had eyes
like stars, set in a sad and rather thin face.
'Our Lord knows always what He is about,' said Mrs. Blomgren; 'and I
also believe that He has some reason for letting such an artist as Mr.
Blomgren perform in the street. But what was He thinking about when He
gave that girl those eyes and that smile?'
'I will tell you something,' said Mr. Blomgren; 'she has not the
slightest talent for Art. And with those eyes!'
Hede had a suspicion that they were not talking to him, but simply for
the benefit of the young girl. She was walking just behind them, and
could hear every word.
'She is not more than thirteen years old, and not by any means too old
to learn something; but, impossible--impossible, without the slightest
talent! If one does not want to waste one's time, sir, teach her to sew,
but not to stand on her head. Her smile makes people quite mad about
her,' Mr. Blomgren continued. 'Simply on account of her smile she has
had many offers from families wishful to adopt her. She could grow up in
a well-to-do home if she would only leave her grandfather. But what does
she want with a smile that makes people mad about her, when she will
never appear either on horseback or on a trapeze?'
'We know other artists,' said Mrs. Blomgren, 'who pick up children in
the street and train them for the profession when they cannot perform
any longer themselves. There is more than one who has been lucky enough
to create a star and obtain immense salaries for her. But Mr. Blomgren
and I have never thought of the money; we have only thought of some day
seeing Ingrid flying through a hoop whilst the whole circus resounded
with applause. For us it would have been as if we were beginning life
over again.'
'Why do we keep her grandfather?' said Mr. Blomgren. 'Is he an artist
fit for us? We could, no doubt, have got a previous member of a
Hofkapell if we had wished. But we love that child; we cannot do without
her; we keep the old man for her sake.'
'Is it not naughty of her that she will not allow us to make an artist
of her?' they said.
Hede turned round. The little girl's face wore an expression of
suffering and patience. He could see that she knew that anyone who could
not dance on the tight-rope was a stupid and contemptible person.
At the same moment they came to another house, but before they began
their performance Hede sat down on an overturned wheelbarrow and began
to preach. He defended the poor little girl. He reproached Mr. and Mrs.
Blomgren for wishing to hand her over to the great, cruel public, who
would love and applaud her for a time, but when she grew old and worn
out, they would let her trudge along the streets in rain and cold. No;
he or she was artist enough, who made a fellow-being happy. Ingrid
should only have eyes and smiles for one, should keep them for one only;
and this one should never leave her, but give her a safe home as long as
he lived.
Tears came into Hede's eyes whilst he spoke. He spoke more to himself
than to the others. He felt it suddenly as something terrible to be
thrust out into the world, to be severed from the quiet home-life. He
saw that the great, star-like eyes of the girl began to sparkle. It
seemed as if she had understood every single word. It seemed as if she
again felt the right to live.
But Mr. Blomgren and his wife had become very serious. They pressed
Hede's hand and promised him that they would never again try and
persuade the little girl to become an artist. She should be allowed to
lead the life she wished. He had touched them. They were
artists--artists body and soul; they understood what he meant when he
spoke of love and faithfulness.
Then Hede parted from them and went home. He no longer tried to find any
secret meaning in his adventure. After all, it had meant nothing more
than that he should save this poor sorrowful child from always grieving
over her incapacity.