IX

Camilla came walking down to the Mill, frank and cheerful. She was

alone. She went straight into the little room and said with a titter:

"Excuse me for not knocking. The stream makes such a roar that I

thought it was no use." She looked about her and exclaimed: "How

awfully nice it is here, charming! Where's Johannes? I know Johannes.

How's his eye?"

She got a chair and sat down.

Johannes was fetched from the mill. His eye was sore and bloodshot.

"I've come of my own accord," said Camilla as soon as she saw him; "I

wanted to come down here. You must go on using cold water for your eye."

"It's all right," he answered. "But, God bless you, what brought you

here? Would you like to see the mill? Thanks for coming!" He took his

mother round the waist and brought her forward and said: "Here is my

mother."

They went into the mill. The old Miller took off his cap with a low bow

and said something; Camilla didn't hear what it was, but she smiled and

said at random:

"Thanks, thanks. Yes, I should like so much to see it."

The noise frightened her, she held Johannes' hand and glanced up at the

two men with big, listening eyes in case they should say something. She

looked like a deaf person. All the wheels and machinery of the mill

filled her with astonishment, she laughed, shook Johannes' hand in her

excitement and pointed in all directions. The mill was stopped and

started again so that she might see it.

Even for a good while after she had left the mill Camilla talked in a

comically loud voice, as though the noise were still in her ears.

Johannes walked with her back to the Castle.

"Can you imagine his daring to hit you in the eye?" she said. "But then

he went off at once, he left with the Laird to go shooting. It was a

frightfully unpleasant thing to happen. Victoria didn't sleep a wink

all night, she told me."

"Then she'll be able to sleep tonight," he answered. "When do you think

you'll be going home again?"

"Tomorrow. When are you coming to town?"

"In the autumn. Can I meet you this afternoon?"

She exclaimed:

"Oh yes, do! You told me about your cave; you must show me that."

"I'll come and fetch you," he said.

On his way home he sat for a long while on a stone and pondered. A warm

and happy idea had flashed upon him.

* * * * *

In the afternoon he walked up to the Castle, stopped outside and sent

in a message for Camilla. While he stood waiting Victoria appeared for

an instant at one of the first-floor windows; she stared down at him,

turned round and disappeared into the room.

Camilla came out and he took her to the quarry and the cave. He was in

an unusually calm and happy mood, the young girl amused him, her light,

cheerful talk fluttered about him like little blessings. Today the good

spirits were near....

"I remember, Camilla, that you once gave me a dagger. It had a silver

sheath. I put it away in a box with a lot of other things, as I had no

use for it."

"No, you had no use for it; but what then?"

"Well, you see, I've lost it."

"Oh I say, that was unlucky. But perhaps I can get a pair to it

somewhere. I'll try."

They walked towards home.

"And do you remember the big medallion you gave me once? It was a

thick, heavy gold one and stood in a frame. You had written some kind

of words on it."

"Yes, I remember."

"Last year while I was abroad I gave away that medallion, Camilla."

"Oh no, you didn't? Fancy your giving it away! Why did you?"

"It was a young friend of mine who had it as a souvenir. He was a

Russian. He fell on his knees and thanked me for it."

"Was he so glad as that? Oh, I'm sure he must have been wildly glad if

he fell on his knees! You shall have another medallion instead of it to

keep for yourself."

They had come to the road that ran between the Mill and the Castle.

Johannes stopped and said:

"Here by these bushes something happened to me once. I was walking

one evening as I so often did in my loneliness, and it was summer

and fine weather. I lay down behind the bushes and was lost in

thought. Then two people came quietly walking along the road. The

lady stopped. Her companion asked: why do you stop? And as he got no

answer he asked again: Is anything the matter? No, she answered; but

you mustn't look at me like that. I only looked at you, he said. Yes,

she answered, I know very well that you love me, but Papa won't allow

it, you understand; it is impossible. He murmured: Yes, I suppose it's

impossible. Then she said: You are so broad here, about the hand; you

have such oddly broad wrists! And then she took hold of his wrist."

"Well, what happened?" asked Camilla.

"I don't know," replied Johannes. "Why did she say that about his

wrists?"

"Perhaps they were nice. And then he had a white shirt above them--oh,

of course I know why. I expect she was fond of him too."

"Camilla!" he said; "if I was very fond of you and waited a few years,

I only ask.... In one word, I am not worthy of you; but do you think

you would be mine some day if I ask you next year or in two years'

time?"

Pause.

Camilla had suddenly turned fiery red with embarrassment, she twisted

her slight figure this way and that and clasped her hands. He put his

arm round her and asked:

"Do you think you could some day? Will you?"

"Yes," she answered, and fell into his arms.

* * * * *

The next day he saw her down to the pier. He kissed her little hands

with their childish, innocent expression and was full of thankfulness

and joy.

Victoria was not there.

"Why has nobody come with you?"

Camilla told him with scared eyes that the Castle was in the most

terrible trouble. A telegram had come in the morning, the Master had

gone as pale as death, the old Chamberlain and his wife had cried out

with pain--Otto had been killed out shooting the evening before.

Johannes seized Camilla's arm.

"Killed? The Lieutenant?"

"Yes. They're on the way with his body. It is terrible."

They walked on, lost in their own thoughts, and only woke at the sight

of the people on the pier and the sound of orders shouted from the

ship. Camilla bashfully gave him her hand; he kissed it and said:

"Well, well, I'm not worthy of you, Camilla, no, not in any sense. But

I shall be as good to you as I possibly can if you will be mine."

"I will be yours. I have wanted it the whole time, the whole time."

"I shall follow in a few days," he said. "In a week I shall see you

again."

She was on board. He waved to her, went on waving as long as he could

see her. When he turned to go home Victoria was standing behind him;

she too held her handkerchief in the air and waved to Camilla.

"I came a little too late," she said.

He did not answer. What was he to say? Condole with her loss,

congratulate her, press her hand? Her voice was so toneless and her

face showed such distraction, a tragic experience had left its mark

there.

People were leaving the pier.

"Your eye is still red," she said, as she began to walk away. She

looked round for him.

He was standing still.

Then all at once she turned round and went up to him.

"Otto is dead," she said in a hard voice, and her eyes were burning.

"You don't say a word, you are so superior. He was a hundred thousand

times better than you, do you hear? Do you know how he died? He was

shot, his whole head was blown to pieces, his whole silly little head.

He was a hundred thousand...."

She burst into sobs and began to walk towards home with long,

despairing steps.

* * * * *

Late that evening there was a knock at the Miller's door; Johannes

opened it and looked out; Victoria stood outside and beckoned to him.

He followed her. She seized his hand impetuously and led him up to the

road; her hand was icy cold.

"Sit down, won't you?" he said. "Sit down and rest a little. You are so

exhausted."

They sat down.

She murmured:

"What must you think of me, never leaving you in peace!"

"You are very unhappy," he said. "Now you must obey me and calm

yourself, Victoria. Can I help you in any way?"

"For God in Heaven's sake you must forgive me what I said today," she

begged. "Yes, I am very unhappy, I have been unhappy for many years.

I said he was a hundred thousand times better than you; that was not

true, forgive me! He is dead and he was my fiancé, that is all. Do you

think it was of my own free will? Johannes, do you see this? It is my

engagement ring, I was given it long ago--long, long ago; now I throw

it away--throw it away!" And she threw her ring into the wood; they

both heard it fall. "It was Papa who would have it. Papa is poor, he

is completely beggared, and Otto would have had so much money one day.

You've got to do it, said Papa to me. I won't, I answered. Think of

your parents, said he, think of the Castle, our old name, my honour.

Well then, I will, I answered; wait three years and then I will. Papa

thanked me and waited, Otto waited, they all waited; but I was given

the ring at once. Then a long time went by and I saw there was no help

for me. Why should we wait any longer, come along with my husband, I

said to Papa. God bless you, he said and thanked me again for what I

was going to do. Then Otto came. I didn't go to meet him at the pier,

I stood at my window and saw him drive up. Then I ran in to Mamma and

threw myself on my knees before her. What is the matter, my child?

she asked. I can't, I told her; no I can't take him; he's come, he's

waiting downstairs; but let us insure my life instead and then I will

be lost in the bay or the waterfall, it will be better for me. Mamma

turned as pale as death and wept over me. Papa came. Now then, my

dear Victoria, you must come down and receive him, he said. I can't,

I can't, I answered and repeated what I had said, that he should take

pity on me and insure my life. Papa did not answer a word, but sat down

on a chair and began to tremble at his thoughts. When I saw that I

said: Come along with my husband; I'll take him."

Victoria broke off. She was shaking. Johannes took her other hand in

his and warmed it.

"Thanks," she said. "Johannes, be kind to me and hold my hand fast. Do

me that kindness! Oh, how warm you are! I am so thankful to you. But

you must forgive me what I said on the pier."

"Yes, that's forgotten long ago. Would you like me to fetch you a

shawl?"

"No thanks. But I can't understand why I'm trembling, my head is so

hot. Johannes, I have to ask your forgiveness for so much...."

"No, no, don't do that. There, now you are calmer. Sit still."

"You made me a speech at the dinner. I didn't know a thing from the

time you got up till you sat down again; I simply heard your voice. It

was like an organ and I was desperate at the power it had over me. Papa

asked me why I called out to you and interrupted you; he was very sorry

about it. But Mamma didn't ask me, she understood. I had told Mamma

all, many years ago I told her, and two years ago I told her again,

when I came back from town. That was the time I met you."

"Don't let us talk about that."

"No, but forgive me, do you hear, be merciful! What in the world am I

to do? Now there is Papa at home, walking up and down his study, it is

such a terrible thing for him. It's Sunday tomorrow; he has decided

that all the servants are to have the day off; that is the only thing

he has decided today. He is grey in the face and he doesn't say a word,

so hard has his son-in-law's death hit him. I told Mamma that I was

going to you. You and I must both go to town with the Chamberlains

tomorrow, she answered. I am going to Johannes, I repeated. Papa can't

find the money for all three of us, he will stay here himself, she said

and went on talking about other things. Then I went to the door. Mamma

looked at me. Now I'm going to him, I said for the last time. Mamma

followed me to the door and kissed me and said: Well well, God bless

you both!"

Johannes dropped her hands and said:

"There, now you're warm."

"Thank you so much, yes, now I'm quite warm.... God bless you both,

she said. I have told Mamma all, she has known it the whole time. But

dear me, who is it you're in love with, child? she asked. Can you ask

me that again? I answered; it is Johannes I love, it is he alone I have

loved all my life, loved, loved...."

He made a movement.

"It's late. Don't you think they will be getting anxious about you at

home?"

"No," she answered. "You know that it is you I love, Johannes, you must

have seen that? I have longed so for you all these years, nobody knows

how much. I have walked along the road here and thought to myself, now

I'll go a little way into the wood by the side of the road, for that is

where _he_ used to go. And then I did so. The day I heard you had come

I put on a light dress, light yellow, I was sick with excitement and

longing and I kept going in and out of all the rooms. How radiant you

are today! said Mamma. I was saying to myself all the time: now he's

come home again! He is glorious and now he has come back, both those

things are true! The next day I could not endure it any longer, I put

on my light dress again and went up to the quarry to find you. Do you

remember? I found you, too, but I did not gather any flowers as I said

I would, and that was not why I came either. You were no longer glad to

see me again; but thanks all the same that I met you. It was getting on

for three years ago. You had a twig in your hand and sat switching with

it when I came; after you had gone I picked up the twig and hid it and

took it home with me...."

"Yes but, Victoria," he said in a shaking voice, "you mustn't say such

things to me any more."

"No," she answered uneasily, seizing his hand. "No, I mustn't. No, you

don't like it, I see." She began to pat his hand nervously. "No, I

can't expect you to. And besides, I have hurt you so much. Don't you

think you can forgive me in time?"

"Yes, yes, everything. It isn't that."

"What is it then?"

Pause.

"I am engaged," he answered.

X

The next day--Sunday--the Master of the Castle came in person to the

Miller and asked him to come up about noon and drive Lieutenant Otto's

body down to the steamer. The Miller could not understand and stared at

him; but the Master explained curtly that all his men had the day off

and had gone to church, none of his servants were at home.

The Master could not have slept that night, he looked like a dead man

and was unshaven besides. But he swung his walking-stick in his usual

way and held himself erect.

The Miller put on his best coat and went. When he had put the horses

in, the Master himself lent him a hand in getting the body into the

carriage. It was all done quietly, almost secretly, there was nobody to

look on.

The Miller drove away to the pier. After him came the Chamberlain and

his Lady, besides the Lady of the Castle and Victoria. They were all

on foot. The Master was seen standing alone on the steps and making

repeated gestures of farewell; the wind ruffled his grey hair.

When the body was carried on board the mourners followed. From the

railing the Lady of the Castle called ashore to the Miller that he was

to say good-bye to the Master for her, and Victoria asked him the same.

Then the boat steamed away. The Miller stood a long while watching her.

There was a stiff breeze and the bay was rough; it was a quarter of an

hour before the boat disappeared behind the islands. The Miller drove

home.

He put the horses in the stable, gave them a feed and was going in to

deliver the message he had for the Master. The kitchen door, however,

proved to be locked. He walked round the house and tried to get in

by the front door; that too was locked. It's the dinner hour and the

Master's asleep, he thought. But as he was a punctilious man and wished

to carry out what he had undertaken, he went into the servants' hall to

find somebody to whom he could give his messages. In the servants' hall

there was not a soul. He went out again, looked all about, and even

tried the maids' room. There was nobody there either. The whole place

was deserted.

He was just going out again when he saw the glimmer of a candle in

the Castle cellar. He stopped. Through the little barred windows he

could plainly see a man come into the cellar with a candle in one hand

and a chair upholstered in red silk in the other. It was the Master.

He was shaved and dressed as though for a great occasion. Perhaps I

might knock at the window and give him the Lady's message, thought the

Miller, but stood still.

The Master looked about him, held out the candle and looked about him.

He pulled forward a sack which seemed to be full of hay or straw and

laid it against the entrance door. Then he poured some liquid over

the sack from a can. After that he brought packing-cases, straw and a

discarded flower-stand up to the door and poured some of the liquid

over them; the Miller noticed that in doing so he was careful not to

soil his fingers or his clothes. He took the little candle-end, placed

it on top of the sack and carefully surrounded it with straw. Then the

Master sat down on the chair.

The Miller gazed at all these preparations with increasing amazement,

his eyes were glued to the cellar window and a dark suspicion fell upon

his soul. The Master sat quite quietly in his chair and watched the

candle burning lower and lower; he kept his hands folded. The Miller

saw him flip a speck of dust from the sleeve of his dress coat and fold

his arms again.

Then the terrified old Miller uttered a shriek.

The Master turned his head and looked out of the window. Suddenly he

jumped up and came close to the window, where he stood staring out. It

was a face in which a world of suffering was depicted. His mouth was

strangely distorted, he shook both his clenched fists at the window,

silently threatening; at last he only threatened with one hand as he

walked backwards across the cellar floor. As he struck against the

chair the candle upset. At the same instant a huge flame shot up.

The Miller shrieked and ran out. For a moment he tore about the yard

quite out of his wits and not knowing what to do. He ran to the cellar

window, kicked in the glass and shouted; then he stooped down, seized

the iron bars in his fists and shook them, bent them, tore them out.

Then he heard a voice from the cellar, a voice without words, a groan,

as from a dead man in the ground; it sounded twice, and the Miller fled

terror-struck from the window, across the yard, down the road and home.

He dared not look behind him.

When a few minutes later he and Johannes came to the place, the whole

Castle, the big old timber house, was in flames. A couple of men from

the pier had also come up; but they could not do anything either.

Everything was destroyed.

But the Miller's lips were silent as the grave.