Nikolai emerged once more, apparently as empty-handed as he had entered. I
opened my window and called to him to ask if he had bought the horse.
"N-no--the man won't meet my price."
"Well, can't you meet his?"
"Y-yes, I could," he replied slowly. "But I don't think I've got enough
money on me."
"I could lend you some."
At this Nikolai smiled and shook his head as though my offer were a fairy
tale.
"Thank you just the same," he said, turning to walk away.
"Where are you going now?" I asked.
"To look at another horse. It's old and small, still--"
Was I thrusting myself on the man? I? Nonsense! I don't see that at all.
He felt offended because I had passed his door last winter without
stopping and now I wanted to make him friendly again. That was all. But as
I wanted no cause for self-reproach, I stopped packing, nor would I ask
Nikolai if I might go back with him. But I went out for a walk in the
town. I had as much right to do that as anyone.
I met Nikolai in the street with a colt, and we stopped to exchange a few
words.
"Is it yours?"
"Yes, I've bought her; the man met me halfway after all," he replied with
a smile.
We walked along to the stable together and fed and petted the horse. She
was a mare, two and a half years old, with a tawny coat and an off-white
mane and tail--a perfect little lady.
That evening Nikolai came over to my room of his own accord for a chat
about the mare and the state of the roads. When he was saying good-bye at
the door, he seemed struck by a sudden thought.
"By the way," he said, "I suppose it's no good asking you, but you could
get a lift for your knapsack, you know. We could be there day after
tomorrow," he added.
How could I offend him again?
We walked all next day, spent the night in the mountain hut at the
frontier, and then went on again. Nikolai carried my knapsack all the way,
as well as his own smaller parcels. When I suggested that we should share
the burden, he said it was no weight at all. I think Nikolai wanted to
spare the little tawny lady.
At noon we saw the fjord beneath us. Nikolai stopped and carefully rubbed
down the mare once more. As our path sloped downward, I felt a pressure, a
contraction in my chest; it was the sea air. Nikolai asked me what was the
matter, but it was nothing.
On reaching his home, we found the yard well swept, and in the doorway a
woman on her knees with her back toward us, scrubbing the floor. It was
the Saturday cleaning day.
"Hullo!" Nikolai roared in a tremendously loud voice, stopping dead in his
tracks as he did so.
The woman in the doorway looked round; her hair was gray, but it was she,
Miss Ingeborg, _Fru_ [Footnote: Mrs. (Translator's note.)] Ingeborg.
"Good heavens!" she exclaimed, hastily mopping up the rest of the floor.
"Look at all the cleaning that goes on here!" Nikolai said, laughing.
"That's her idea of fun!"
And I had believed Carpenter Nikolai incapable of lightheartedness! Yet I
had seen how content he had been all the way home, how deeply content, and
proud of the little lady he was bringing with him. Even now he was still
stroking her.
Fru Ingeborg rose to her feet, her skirts dark with the damp. It all
seemed strange to me; her hair was so gray. I needed a little time, a
moment, to collect myself, and turned away to give her time, too.
"What a lovely horse!" I heard her exclaim.
Nikolai went on stroking the mare.
"I've brought a visitor with me," he said.
I went to her and perhaps--I don't know--perhaps I rather overdid my
unconcern. I greeted her and insisted on shaking her wet hand, which she
hesitated to give me. I was anxious to appear quite formal with her, and
shook her hand as I repeated my greeting.
"Well, of all people!" she replied.