It was in the middle of the noonday's rest; the people at Heidegaard
were asleep, the hay lay scattered about the field, and the rakes were
all stuck in the ground. The hay sledges stood outside the granary, and
the horses were grazing a little distance off. Except these, and some
hens that had strayed in the corn field, there was not a living thing
to be seen.
The road from the farm to the rich grass fields of the Heidegaard
S[oe]ters,[2] lay through a mountain pass. Up in the pass a man stood
and looked down over the plain, as though expecting something. Behind
him lay a tarn, from which the beck flowed down, that had made the
cleft in the mountain. On both sides of the lake there were sheep walks
leading to the S[oe]ters, which he could see far in the distance. The
barking of dogs and the tinkling of bells resounded among the rocks;
the cows were rushing madly to the water, while the poor herdsmen and
the dogs sought in vain to gather them. The cows appeared in the most
wonderful shapes, with their tails in the air, kicking and plunging,
roaring and bellowing; making straight for the lake, where, to their
delight, they stood quite still, up to their necks in water; their
bells tinkling with each move of the head. The dogs drank a little, but
kept back on the dry land; the herdsmen came after, and seated
themselves on the warm smooth mountain side. Here they took out their
provision, exchanged with each other; praised each others' dogs, oxen,
and people; finally undressed and sprang in the water. The dogs
wouldn't go in, but drawled lazily about, hanging their heads, with
their tongues out on one side. There was no bird to be seen, no sound
to be heard save the voices of the lads and the tinkling of the bells;
the ling was burnt up and withered; the sun scorched the whole mountain
side, and the heat was intense.
Ovind sat a long time in the hot sun, close to the beck that flowed
from the lake; he waited and waited, but still there was no one to be
seen at Heidegaard, and he began to be a little anxious, when suddenly
a great dog came panting out from a door, followed by a young girl in
summer attire; she sprang over the fields up towards the mountain.
Ovind felt a strong desire to halloo but dare not; he kept a look out
to see if any one should accidentally come out from the farm and see
her, but she escaped unobserved. At last she got near, picking her way
by the side of the brook, and helping herself on by the small bushes,
the dog a little before her, snuffing in the air. Ovind ran to meet
her, the dog growled and was hushed down, and as soon as Marit saw him
come, she seated herself on the Great Stone, looking fiery red, and
quite overpowered by the heat. He sat down beside her.
"I'm so glad you've come."
"How fearfully hot! Have you been waiting long?"
"No.--As they watch us so in the evenings, we must take the mid-day;
but after this, I think we ought not to keep things so secret, and it
is just about this I wanted to speak to you."
"Not secret?"
"I know very well that it suits you best to keep everything secret, but
to shew courage suits you also. I have come to-day to talk a long time
with you, and now you must hear."
"Is it true that you mean to try to be District Agriculturist?"
"Yes, and I hope to succeed too. I have a two-fold object in
view,--first, to gain position; and secondly, to do something that your
grandfather can both see and understand. It happens most fortunately
that most of the farmers about Heidegaard are young people who wish to
make improvements and require assistance; they have also means at
command. So I shall begin there. I shall improve everything from the
smallest things to the greatest. I shall give lectures, and also work;
and so to say, lay siege to the old man by good deeds."
"Well done, Ovind! What more?"
"The next concerns ourselves,--you must not go away."
"When he commands it?"
"And keep nothing secret respecting us two."
"When he tortures me?"
"But we gain more, and protect ourselves better by having everything
open. We shall be just so much observed by people, that they will talk
of how much we care for each other, and they will the sooner wish us
well. You must not leave. There is danger for those who are separated
lest slander should come in between them; they believe nothing the
first year, but they begin little by little to be influenced the
second. We two must meet when we can, and laugh away all the ill report
they will set between us. We shall be able to meet at a dance now and
then, and swing merrily round while they sit by who calumniate us. We
shall meet at church, and talk to each other in the face of those who
wish us a hundred miles away. If any one writes a ditty about us, we
will see if we cannot write one in reply. No one can harm us if we keep
together and let people see it. All the unhappiness in love belongs
either to those who are afraid, or to those who are weak, or to those
who are ill, or to those calculating people who watch for certain
opportunities, or to those cunning people who at last suffer for their
own devices, or to those matter-of-fact people who don't care so much
for each other, that state and position can disappear; they steal
quietly away, and send letters, and tremble at a single word, and at
last take that constant restlessness and uneasiness for love; they feel
unhappy and dissolve away like sugar. Pooh, pooh! if they really cared
for each other they would have no fear, they would be light hearted,
they would not care who saw them. I have read about it in books. I have
seen it myself also; that is a poor love that goes round about. True
love must begin in secrecy because it begins in reserve and modesty,
but it must live in openness because its existence is joy. It is as in
the spring time, when the leaves begin to shoot, all that is withered
and dry falls off from the tree as soon as the new life begins. He who
falls in love leaves the useless toys he has held to before, the new
life springs, and then can no one see it? Hey, Marit! they will be glad
through seeing us glad. Two betrothed, who are true to each other, are
a benefit to the public, for they read them a poem which the children
learn by heart, to the shame of their calculating parents. I have read
of many instances, and there are rumours of such even here in the
district, and it is just the children of those who once caused all the
misery, that now speak of it and are moved by it. Well, now let us join
hands, and promise to be true to each other and we shall succeed."
He was about to embrace her but she turned her head away, and slipped
down from the stone. As he remained sitting, she came back again, and
with her arms resting on his knees she stood there, and talked to him
as she looked up.
"Listen now, Ovind, when he says I must leave, what shall I say?"
"You must say no, straight out."
"Oh dear! will that do?"
"He cannot take and carry you out to the carriage."
"If he doesn't do just that, there are many other ways in which he can
force me."
"I do not think so. Obedience is certainly your duty so long as it is
not sin; but it is also your duty to let him know fully how hard it is
to you to obey in this case. I think when he hears that, he will
reconsider the matter; for at present, like most others, he believes it
to be only child's play. You must show him it is something more."
"You may think he is not easy to do with; he watches me like a tethered
goat."
"But you break the chain again and again in one day."
"That is not true."
"Yes, every time you secretly think of me, you break it."
"Yes, that way, but are you certain that I think of you so often?"
"Were it else, you would not be here now."
"Oh! but you sent me a message to come."
"But you came because your thoughts drove you."
"Rather because it was a fine day."
"You said just now it was too hot."
"To go up the hill, yes; but down again?"
"Then why did you come up?"
"To be able to run down."
"Then why are you not going?"
"Because I wish to rest."
"And talk to me about love?"
"I couldn't deny you that pleasure."
"While the little birds sang,"--
"And all were asleep;"
"And the bells they rang,"--
"O'er the green wood's steep."
Here they both saw Marit's grandfather come limping out on the farm,
and go to the bell string to ring the people up. The people came slowly
down from the out-houses, drawled sleepily to the horses and rakes,
scattered themselves in various parts of the field, and soon all was
life and work again. The grandfather only went out of the one house and
into the other, and at last up on to the top of the hay loft and looked
all round. A little lad came bounding up to him, apparently he had
called him. The boy went down in the direction of Pladsen, and the
grandfather, in the meantime, went round about the farm, often looking
up to the mountain, but little suspecting that the dark spot on the
"great stone" was Marit and Ovind. But again Marit's dog brought
misfortune, for seeing a strange horse drive into Heidegaard, he seemed
to think it part of his business to bark at the top of his voice. They
tried to quiet him, but he had got roused, and would not give over; the
grandfather stood below and stared straight up. But matters grew still
worse, for the sheep dogs hearing the voice of a stranger, ran up, and
seeing a great wolf-like champion, these straight-haired Finnish dogs
all united against him, and so frightened Marit, that she ran away
without even saying good-bye; while Ovind, in the midst of the battle,
kicked and struck, but only succeeded in driving the dogs further away,
for they soon found themselves another battle field; he after them
again, and so on, till at last they were close to the edge of the beck;
here Ovind rushed on them again, and got them all into the water, just
where it was really deep; and they crawled out, looking quite ashamed,
and going each his own way; so ended the fray.
Ovind went straight over till he reached the high road, but Marit met
her grandfather a little above the farm, and the dog was to blame for
this.
"Where have you been?"
"Into the wood."
"What have you been doing there?"
"Gathering berries."
"That is not true."
"No, it isn't."
"What did you do then?"
"I was talking to some one."
"Was it the peasant lad?"
"Yes."
"Listen now, Marit, you are going away tomorrow."
"No."
"Well, Marit, I will only say one single thing, you SHALL go."
"You can't lift me into the carriage."
"No? Can't I?"
"No, because you won't do it."
"Won't I? Listen, Marit, only for pleasure you see, only for pleasure,
I will give that raggamuffin a real good thrashing."
"No, you daren't do that."
"Don't dare? Do you say I dare not? Who could do anything to me, who?"
"The schoolmaster."
"The schoo--school--schoolmaster? Do you think he cares for him?"
"Yes, it was he who sent him to the Agricultural School."
"The schoolmaster?"
"The schoolmaster!"
"Listen now Marit, I will not have any more of this nonsense, you must
leave, you give me only sorrow and trouble, it was just the same with
your mother, only sorrow and trouble. I am an old man, and I wish to
see you well provided for, and I will not be talked about as a fool in
this matter; it is your own good that I have at heart, you may be sure
of that, Marit. I may soon be gone, and then you would stand there
alone; what would have become of your mother if it had not been for me?
Come now, Marit, be a good girl, and listen to what I say, I seek only
your own good."
"No, you don't."
"How? What do I seek then?"
"To have your own way without any regard to mine."
"You have a will of your own, have you, you young sea-bird? You think
you know your own good, do you, little fool? I shall let you taste the
birch rod, so tall and big you are. Now listen Marit, let me speak a
little kindly with you. You are not so bad at the bottom, but you are
deluded. You must attend to what I say, I am old and experienced. I am
not so well off as people think, a poor cageless bird could soon fly
away with the little I have; your father dived hard into it. No, let us
take care of ourselves in this world, it is not better worth. It is all
very well for the schoolmaster to talk, for he has money himself, and
the priest too, they can afford to preach; but with us, who must work
for our living, it is quite a different thing. I am old, and have gone
through much; I can tell you, love is nice enough to talk about, and
may do very well for the clergy and such, but it won't do for the
peasantry, they must look at it in another light. First subsistence you
see, then religion, then a little schooling, then a little love if it
so falls in; but I tell you it is no use to begin with love and end
with victuals. What have you to say now Marit?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"Yes, but I do."
"What then?"
"Must I say?"
"Yes, of course you must."
"I am bound up in this love."
He stood a moment amazed, then, remembering the many similar
conversations leading only to the same end, he shook his head, turned
his back and went.
He vented his wrath on the men, abused the girls, beat the great dog,
and nearly frightened the life out of a little hen that had strayed in
the field, but to Marit he said nothing.
That evening Marit was so happy when she went up stairs to bed, that
she opened her window, looked out, and sang. She had got a fine little
book from Ovind, and in it was a fine little love song,--this she
sang:--
Do you love me true,
E'en as I love you,
All the livelong happy day;--
The summer quickly flies,
The leaf and blossom dies,
But to come again we say.
What you said before,
Comes to me o'er and o'er,
Like a small bird in a tree,--
Flutters his tiny wings,
Nestles himself and sings,
Merrily chirping, happy and free.
Litli, litli, lu,
Do you hear me, you,
Laddie from the birch hedge under?
Darkness falleth fast,
Daylight soon is past,
Who's to guide me home I wonder!
Garry, garry, giss,
Sang I of a kiss?
Nay, my love, that ne'er can be,--
Do you say you doubt it?
Think no more about it,
I shall slip away you see.
Oh, goodnight, goodnight,
Dreamland seems so bright,
Whispering of your blue eyes true,--
Of the little silent word,
Once, you know, I overheard,
Oh, it was so rash of you!
See, I shut the door,
Do you want me more?
Echoes falling on mine ear,
Ticing and laughing free,
Do you want more with me?
The night is so mild and clear.