THE VISIT TO PEEROUT CASTLE
Late on Saturday evening Lisbeth Longfrock went jogging slowly up over
the hilly road to Hoel Farm. The milkmaid had given her leave to go to
the farm and to stay away until Monday evening.
She had risen early that day, for she would not think of such a thing
as leaving the saeter before she had done her morning chores, and milked
the goats, and let out the cows. And she had had to do this very early,
not only because she was in a hurry to get away, but also because she
knew that Ole would not oversleep himself after having insisted so
strongly that he should take care of her flock the first day. She had
barely finished when Ole came. Peter was not with him; but she had had
a talk with Peter the evening before, and he was quite as well pleased
to take her flock on Sunday by himself, and then on Monday he and Ole
could watch all the flocks together.
Ole had been very modest and ceremonious with Lisbeth as he bade her
good-by. He had shaken hands and asked her to greet Jacob from him, and
to say that he, Ole Hoegseth, would not keep close account of these
days Lisbeth was taking, since Jacob really needed to speak with his
sister. He did not know, of course, that Peter had said the very same
thing the evening before.
And then she had given her animals over to Ole's care and had begun her
long walk down the mountain. She walked and she walked, hour after
hour. She had now gone over this saeter road several times, but had
never before noticed that it was so long as it seemed to-day. She
rested by a brook, took out her lunch, ate it and drank some water with
it, and then set out again. In order to forget how slowly time was
passing, she began to count her steps, first by tens and then by
hundreds, and each time she had finished counting, she looked back to
see how far she had walked; but this did not avail in the least, so she
made up her mind to count to a thousand. When she had counted almost up
to a thousand, she could not remember whether it was eight or nine
hundred she had had last, so she counted four hundred more in order to
be altogether certain that she had counted enough.
But even that did not make the time pass any more quickly, and she did
not reach the point where she could look down into the valley until the
sun was setting. The shadow had begun to creep up on the opposite side.
Above the dark shadow line the slope was still bathed in the rosy
evening sunlight, but the shadow steadily ate its way upward.
Then Lisbeth forgot to count her steps any more. What fun it would be
to try to reach the sunshine again before the shadow had passed Hoel,
which lay shining so brightly up there!
She went down the long slope on a run; but, run as fast as she might,
it took time, and when she had reached the bottom of the valley and
started up the hilly road on the other side, the sun had gone down. She
could only catch its last gleam through the tops of the spruce trees,
and a last tiny reflection as it left the window of Peerout Castle.
She stopped to get her breath after running. It was so still and warm
and close down there in the valley,--so different from what it had been
up on the mountain. It seemed as if the earth sent out a deep breath
the moment the sun went down,--a strange, heavy fragrance that made
her, all at once, feel anxious and downhearted, just as if she had done
something wrong which she could not remember. Then it came into her
mind that she ought to have sent word to Kjersti Hoel that she was
coming. People in the valley were always afraid that something was the
matter when a person came from the saeter unexpectedly; and it would be
too shameful for any one to give Kjersti Hoel a fright.
That was the reason she was now jogging so slowly up over the hilly
road leading to Hoel Farm. She was in hopes that some one would catch
sight of her, or that at least Bearhunter would give warning of her
approach; for then they would see that she was not coming in haste, and
that she therefore could not be bringing any bad news.
But no one caught sight of her, and no one was stirring on the farm; so
she would have to go right in, after all.
Yes, Kjersti Hoel was really startled when she saw her. Lisbeth had no
time to offer a greeting before Kjersti said: "What in the world! Is
this a mountain bird that has taken flight? There is nothing the matter
at the saeter, is there?"
Lisbeth made haste to answer: "Oh, no, indeed! I was to greet you from
the milkmaid and say that you must not be frightened at seeing me, for
everything is going very well with both man and beast. I have only come
down to make a visit and meet Jacob, my brother."
"God be praised!" said Kjersti. "And now you are heartily welcome."
At these words all Lisbeth's downheartedness vanished, and she felt
only how festive and cozy it was to be at home again. And Kjersti was
in the best of humors. She gave Lisbeth something good to eat, and
treated her with as much ceremony as if she had been the milkmaid
herself. When the time came for Lisbeth to go to bed, Kjersti went with
her all the way to the little sleeping room under the hall stairs,
which looked just as neat and orderly as when she had left it. And
Kjersti sat on the edge of the bed and asked after every single one of
the animals,--she remembered them all. And Lisbeth told about
everything. There was only one provoking thing that she shrank from
confessing (it might as well be acknowledged first as last, however,
for it was sure to come out sometime), and that was her mistake in
naming one of the calves. She had called it Young Moolley,[19] but the
name had proved not at all suitable, for the calf's horns had begun to
grow, although Lisbeth had done her best to prevent it by strewing salt
upon them.
[19] See note on page 45.
* * * * *
The next day was Sunday, and Lisbeth thought it certainly began well
when no less a person than Kjersti Hoel herself came out into the
little hall room carrying a big tray with coffee and cakes on it, for
Lisbeth to indulge in as she lay in bed. Such grandeur as that Lisbeth
had never before experienced. She scarcely believed that such a thing
had ever happened to the milkmaid herself. And what was more, when she
hopped into her long frock Kjersti said that she must hurry up and
grow, for there would be a new dress for her as soon as this one had
crept up to her knees. And although Lisbeth had not said a word about
where she was going to meet Jacob, it seemed just as if Kjersti knew
that, too; for she made up a package with a remarkably fine lunch in
it, and told Lisbeth that she must treat Jacob to some of it, because
he would probably have to go back to Nordrum Saeter that evening and
would not have time to come down to Hoel. But after the lunch was put
up Kjersti did not seem to see any necessity for further haste. In
fact, she thought that it would not be possible for Jacob to get to
Peerout Castle very early, because he would have to come all the way
from Nordrum Saeter that morning. So, finally, Lisbeth had to show
Kjersti her letter and point out the place where it said, "You are
requested to come to the meeting in good season." Then, of course,
Kjersti understood that there was no time to spare.
Shortly afterward Lisbeth was on her way to Peerout Castle, Bearhunter
following her up the road to where the slope of birch trees began; then
he turned around and jogged home with the blandest and prettiest of
Sunday curls in his tail.
The valley lay before her in its quiet Sunday-morning peace. No one was
out on the road or in the fields. Here and there in the farmhouses
across the valley could be seen a man leaning against the frame of the
doorway, bareheaded, and in shirt sleeves as white as the driven snow.
From all the chimneys smoke was slowly arising in the still air.
Lisbeth looked involuntarily up at Peerout Castle. There everything
appeared gray and desolate. No smoke ascended from its chimney; and the
window eye that gazed out over the valley looked as if it was blind,
for the sunlight did not shine upon it now. And that brought to mind a
blind person whom Lisbeth had once seen and whose strange, empty eyes
made her shiver. She felt just the same now, and her pace slackened.
She did not wish to get to the house before Jacob did.
When she finally reached Peerout Castle the first thing she saw was the
pine branches that had been nailed to the gateposts the last time she
was there. They stood in their places still, but they were dry, and the
pine needles had fallen off. She glanced hastily at the door of the
house. Yes, the pine trees stood there, too, just the same, but a
fresher twig had been stuck in the doorlatch,--some one had evidently
been there since that last day. The path that led from the gate to the
door and from there over to the cow house had vanished; grass covered
it. The cow-house door had fallen off, and around the doorposts had
grown up tall stinging nettles. No trace was to be seen of the foot of
man or beast.
Lisbeth had rejoiced at the idea of coming back to her old home. It had
never entered her mind that Peerout Castle could be anything but the
pleasantest place in the whole world to come to. Now, on the contrary,
she felt all at once very, very lonely, more lonely than when on the
mountain or in the forest. She felt like one who, afraid of the dark,
is obliged to walk in it; as if every step must be taken warily, that
no creaking be heard.
Without realizing it she veered away from the castle and the cow house,
feeling that she would rather go over to the big stone by the brook,
where she and Jacob used to have their playthings. Perhaps it was not
so desolate there.
When she came to the heather ridge she saw Jacob already sitting on the
stone. At the sight of him Lisbeth felt as if there was life again in
all the desolation. She was so happy that she was about to run toward
him; but then she remembered that such behavior would not be suitable
at a ceremonious meeting like this, and that really it was so long a
time since she had seen Jacob that he was almost a stranger to her.
When he saw her, he jumped down from the stone and began to brush his
gray breeches with his hands and to set his cap straight,--he wore a
cap with a visor now, and not a straw hat like hers. Both of them were
as embarrassed as if they were entire strangers to each other, and they
could not look each other in the eye while shaking hands. He made a
heavy bob with his head, while she courtesied so low that her long
frock drooped down to the ground. After that, each dropped the other's
hand and they remained standing a long time, looking around. It was not
easy to find something to say, although both had fancied that they had
a great deal to talk about. At last Jacob thought of something. He
looked about for quite a while longer, and then said, as if he had
weighed the matter deliberately and thoroughly, "It is delightful
weather to-day."
"Yes, really delightful."
"If it holds out a fortnight longer, it will not be bad weather for
haying."
"No, it will not be at all bad."
"But we can scarcely expect that."
"Oh, no! scarcely."
Then there was silence again, for not much more could be said on that
subject. Lisbeth stole a look at Jacob. She thought of saying something
about his having grown so large; but then again it did not seem to her
quite proper for her to speak first, he being the elder. The package of
food caught her eye,--she could certainly begin to speak about that.
"Kjersti Hoel sent you her greetings, and bade me ask if you would not
try to put up with the lunch she has sent to-day."
"Yes, thank you; but I have some with me, too."
"You must be hungry after your long walk."
"Yes, I can't say that I'm not."
"Then we will set the table here on the stone."
Little by little Lisbeth set out on the stone all the good things which
Kjersti had put in the package; and then she said, as she had heard was
the custom when one entertained strangers, "Be so good as to draw up
your chair, Jacob."
And Jacob hesitated, also according to custom, and said, "Oh, thanks!
but you should not put yourself to any trouble on my account."
They sat down. Ceremonious manners were kept up during the first part
of the meal, and Lisbeth did not forget to say "please" whenever it was
proper. But when Jacob had eaten one of Kjersti's pancakes (a large,
very thin kind, spread with fresh butter or sweetmeats) and was just
beginning on the second, he forgot that he was at a party, so to speak,
and said quite naturally and with conviction, "That was a remarkably
good pancake!"
"Yes, of course; it is from Hoel."
At that it was as if they suddenly knew each other again; as if it had
been only yesterday that they had kneeled on the bench under the window
and looked over the valley and made up their minds where they would
like best to live when they went out to service; as if they had never
been parted from each other. And an instant after they were in eager
dispute about which was the better place to live at, Nordrum or Hoel.
Agree upon that question they could not; but when Jacob's appetite had
been more than satisfied he finally admitted that they were both fine
places, each one in its own way, and that, at any rate, those two were
the best in the whole valley.
And now there was no end to all they had to talk over together and to
tell each other. Jacob told about Nordrum and the Nordrum Saeter and the
goats there; and Lisbeth told about Ole and Peter, and gave Jacob their
greetings. She had much to tell about them both, but Jacob thought it
was queer that she had more to say about Ole than about Peter; for
while Ole was a straight-forward fellow, it could not be denied that he
was a bit of a boaster.
Then they talked about their future. Jacob was going to stay at Nordrum
Farm until he was grown up, and perhaps longer. Nordrum had said that
when Jacob was a grown man and married he could take Peerout Castle,
with the right of buying it as soon as he was able. But Jacob thought
that very likely Nordrum meant it only as a joke; and anyway it was a
little early for him to be thinking about marriage. Nordrum was getting
on in years, however; he would be sure to need a head man about the
place by that time. Lisbeth said that she was going to stay at Hoel.
She was as well off there as she could expect to be, for Kjersti was
exceedingly kind to her. Lisbeth did not say anything about her
ambition to become a milkmaid. Indeed, that goal was so far off that
she did not dare to set her heart upon reaching it.
When they had talked thus freely for a while they began to look around
and call to mind all the plays they used to play and all the places
they used to frequent. There, right by the castle itself, they had had
their cow house with its pine-cone animals--why, yonder lay the big
bull even now! And there, on the other side of the heather ridge, had
been their saeter, where they had driven their animals many times during
the summer. And there on the hill Jacob had had his sawmill, that
Lisbeth was never to touch; and farther down she had had her dairy,
where he came and bought cheese in exchange for planks made out of
carrots that he had sliced in his sawmill. Not a stone or a mound could
be seen the whole way up to the stony raspberry patches on Big Hammer
Mountain that did not have some memory connected with it.
The brother and sister now felt themselves much older than when they
had lived at Peerout Castle. Lisbeth thought that Jacob had grown to be
very large, and he secretly thought the same about her. It was
therefore like holding a sort of festival for them to be visiting the
scenes together and talking of their former life as of something long
gone by, saying to each other now and then, "Do you remember?" What is
talked of in that way assumes unwonted proportions and appears to be
without flaw.
Thus they went about the whole day,--they had even been close up to Big
Hammer itself,--and it was already late in the afternoon when they
again drew near Peerout Castle. They did not seem to be in any haste to
reach it. They lingered by brook and stone to say, "Do you remember?"
often both at once and about the same thing. They chased each other in
aimless fashion. Their chief idea seemed to be to think continually of
something new to do, so that there should come no silent pause, and so
that the time of getting back to the castle should be put off as long
as possible. Neither of them had yet mentioned a single memory
connected with the castle itself or with the cow house. They had not
visited either of these places yet, and they had avoided all mention of
their mother.
But now they knew that the time had come when these sad things could be
avoided no longer. They dragged themselves slowly down over the last
ridge, talking more rapidly and nervously, and with loud and forced
laughter. Then suddenly their laughter ceased as if it had been cut
straight across,--they had come out on the ridge just back of the cow
house. They became very, very quiet, and stood awhile with heads cast
down. Then they turned toward each other and their eyes met. It did not
seem at all as if they had just been laughing,--their eyes were so
strangely big and bright. While they stood looking at each other there
came suddenly the "klunk" of a bell over from Svehaugen. At that Jacob
shook his head, as if shaking himself free from something, and said in
a most indifferent manner, "Do you think that is the Svehaugen bell we
hear over there?"
Lisbeth answered as unconcernedly as she could, "Yes, it is; I remember
it."
"What cow do you believe they have at Svehaugen now for their home
milking?"
"We could go over there and see whether it is--Bliros."
That was the first time since her mother's death that Lisbeth had
spoken Bliros's name aloud. But to do that was easier than to name her
mother.
It was not long before Lisbeth and Jacob were on their way over to
Svehaugen. They had gone round the castle and the cow house without
going very near them,--it was not worth while to tread down the grass,
Jacob said. As they had expected, they found Bliros at Svehaugen; she
was standing close by the gate. And they really thought that she knew
Lisbeth again. They petted her, and talked to her, and gave her waffles
and pancakes. It was just as if they wanted to make amends for not
having had courage to stir up the memories connected with their old
home itself. Jacob's heart was so touched at the last that he promised
to buy Bliros back and give her to Lisbeth as soon as he was grown up.
At that Lisbeth could contain herself no longer. She put her arms
around Bliros's neck, looked at her a long time, and said, "Do you
believe, Jacob, that Bliros remembers mother?" And then she began to
cry.
That question came upon Jacob so unexpectedly that at first he could
say nothing. After a moment's struggle he, too, was crying; but he
managed to declare with decision, "Yes; if she remembers any one, it
certainly must be mother."