WHILE this despatch is speeding after the baron, we shall take the
liberty of proceeding ourselves to Bœtsoi’s chalet, where the brave
danneman wanted to carry Christian off with him with no other arms than
a cord and an iron-shod stick.
“Wait!” cried the major; “our friend must be equipped and armed. Your
boar-spear is not to be despised, Master Joë, but a good Norwegian
cutlass will do more execution, and a good gun will not be superfluous.”
Yielding to the entreaties of the major and the lieutenant, Christian
put on a reindeer skin coat and felt boots, the latter without either
soles or seams, and having the advantage of never slipping on the ice,
and of being impenetrable to the cold. Then, after arming and supplying
him with powder and balls, Christian’s friends put a fur cap on his
head, and proceeded to draw lots for their places in the hunt.
“I have number 1!” cried the major, in great exultation; “so it is I
who am to yield my place to Christian, and to take my stand a hundred
steps behind him; the lieutenant will be on my left, and the corporal
on my right, at a distance, also, of a hundred steps on each side. Now
then, start, and count your steps; when you have counted a hundred,
make us a sign, and we will follow.”
Everything being thus regulated, the danneman and Christian began the
march, and the others followed, observing the distances agreed upon.
Christian was astonished to see them adopt this order of battle from
the very moment of departure.
“Is the bear so near,” he asked of his guide, “that we should not have
time enough ten times over to take our proper positions on approaching
his den?”
“The _wicked one_ is very near,” replied the danneman. “No one
of them has ever taken up his winter quarters before, so near my
house. I was so far from suspecting his presence, that I have passed a
dozen times almost over his hole, without supposing that I had such a
handsome neighbor.”
“Our bear is handsome, then?”
“He is one of the largest I have ever seen. But begin and talk low; he
has very good ears, and, in less than a quarter of an hour, he will
hear every word we say.”
“Were not your daughters alarmed at having such a neighbor?” said
Christian, approaching the danneman, and lowering his voice to please
him, though his apprehensions seemed to him exaggerated.
At this question, Joë Bœtsoi drew himself up stiffly, straightened his
large head between his shoulders, and looked at Christian askance.
“_Herr_ Christian, my daughters are honest girls,” he said, dryly.
“Pray have I intimated anything to the contrary, _Herr_ Bœtsoi?”
said Christian, feeling very much surprised.
“Don’t you know,” replied the danneman, making an effort to pronounce
the name which he disliked so much, “don’t you know that the
_bear_ can do no harm to a virgin, and that consequently an honest
girl can go and snatch her kid or her lamb from his very claws, without
any danger?”
“Pardon, Monsieur Danneman, I did not know it; I am a stranger, and I
see that we can learn something new every day. But are you quite sure
that the bear has such a respect for chastity? Would you allow one of
your daughters to accompany you at this moment?”
“No! women can’t keep their tongues from wagging, and their chattering
gives notice to the game. That is why neither girls nor women should
ever go to a hunt.”
“And if you should happen to see the bear pursuing your daughters would
you not be alarmed? Would you not shoot it?”
“I would shoot it for the sake of getting its skin, but I should not be
uneasy about my daughters. I tell you I am sure of their conduct.”
“But your sister, the sibyl, she, without doubt, has been married?”
“Married?” said the danneman, throwing back his head disdainfully.
He resumed, with a sigh:
“Whether married or not, Karine is not afraid of wicked tongues.”
“Do wicked tongues come to torment you even here, Master Joë? I should
have thought, in this wilderness--”
The danneman shrugged his shoulders, and looked discontented, but did
not reply.
“Have I displeased you again without knowing it?” asked Christian,
after a few seconds.
“Yes,” replied the danneman, “and, as it is not well to go together
where we are going with something on your heart, I will speak out. Why
did you ask me whether Karine was afraid of the bear? I will not take
another step until I know whether you are thinking anything evil either
of her or of me.”
Christian found it difficult to reply to this direct appeal to his
sincerity, made, as it was, with a sort of grand simplicity, recalling
the manners of early ages. The feeling of curiosity which had led him
to question Bœtsoi about Karine had its origin in mysterious causes in
his own heart, which it was impossible for him to explain. He thought
to make matters right by correcting Bœtsoi’s error as to the facts of
the case.
“Master Joë,” he said, “I did not ask whether your sister was afraid
of the bear, but whether she had been married, and I do not see
anything offensive in my question.”
The peasant looked at him again, and with such a keen, searching
glance, that he felt quite confused.
“Your question does not offend me,” he said, “if you can swear that you
did not listen to any wicked gossip about my family before coming to my
house.”
Christian, remembering what the major had said, hesitated to reply, and
Bœtsoi resumed:
“Come, come! why should you lie? You have no reasons for being my
enemy, and you can tell me freely all you have heard about the child of
the lake.”
“The child of the lake?” cried Christian. “Who is the child of the
lake?”
“If you do not know, I have nothing to tell you.”
“Yes, yes!” Christian rejoined; “I know--I think I know. Speak to me as
to a friend, Master Joë. Is the child of the lake Karine’s son?”
“No,” replied the danneman, his face lighting up with a singular
expression of enthusiasm; “it belonged to her, indeed, but it was not
conceived and born like other children. Karine was unfortunate, as
happens to girls who learn things above their condition, and who read
in the books of a religion that we ought no longer to understand; but
she was not wicked, as people say. I was deceived about it myself as
well as the rest, I who am speaking to you! There was a time--I was
still very young in those days--when I wanted to put a bullet through
the head of a man of whom Karine talked too much in her dreams; but she
swore to our mother and to me that she hated that man. She swore it on
the Bible, and we could not doubt her word after that. The child was
suckled on the mountain by a tame doe, that followed Karine like a kid.
She lived alone with him for more than a year, in a different house
from ours, much higher than the one you have seen. When the child was
weaned we took him into our house, and loved him. He was growing up,
he talked, and he was beautiful; but, one day, he departed as he had
come, and Karine wept so much that her mind flew away after him, and
never returned. There is a great mystery in all this. Don’t every one
know that there are women who bring children into the world merely by
uttering some form of speech, just as they conceive them by breathing
the air of the lakes when the trolls have set it in motion? Karine
lived too much down yonder, and every one knows that there are wicked
spirits in the lake of Waldemora. Enough said. It is the secret of God
and of the waters. No one must think evil of Karine. She does no work,
she renders no service that is seen or is useful in a house; but she is
one of those who, by their learning and their songs, bring happiness
to families. She sees what others do not see, and what she announces
happens in one way or another. That is enough, I tell you, for here
we are close to the _wicked one’s_ den, and now we must think of
nothing but him. Listen to what I say, and then not a word more, not a
single one, for your life.”
“Even if it should cost me my life,” said Christian, agitated and
struck by the mysterious narrative of the danneman, “you must tell me
more about that child which was brought up in your house. Did he not
have something peculiar about his fingers?”
The danneman’s face turned a fiery red, in spite of the cold.
“I have told you,” he replied, in an irritated tone, “all that I intend
to. If it is to insult me, and to defame the honor of my family, that
you have come to eat my bread and kill my game, look out for yourself,
or give up going to the hunt, Herr Christian; for, as true as my name
is Bœtsoi, I will leave you alone with the _wicked one_.”
“Master Bœtsoi,” replied Christian, calmly, “I am not so much alarmed
by your threat, as grieved at the idea of having wounded you. You can
leave me alone with the _wicked one_, if you choose. I will try
to be more wicked than he; but do not, I implore you, carry away a bad
opinion of me. We will resume this conversation, I hope, and you will
acknowledge then, that the thought of outraging the honor of your
family could never have entered my mind.”
“Very good,” replied the danneman, “let us talk, then, of the _wicked
one_. Either he will fly with all speed before we have reached his
den, and in that case you must fire upon him, or he will make up his
mind to fight, and will rise on his hind legs. You know where the place
is for the heart; and, if you do not reach it with this good knife, it
can only be because your hand trembles. There is only one thing to be
careful about: do not let him disarm your right hand before seizing
your left arm, for he can see weapons plainly enough, and he has more
sense than you suppose. Go up to him, then, coolly and quietly, without
being in any hurry. As long as the _wicked one_ is not wounded,
he is not insolent, and he don’t well know what he wants to do. For my
part, I usually talk to him, and promise that I will not do him any
harm; to lie to a beast is not to lie. I advise you, then, to talk to
him pleasantly. He has sense enough to see that he is being flattered,
but not enough to see that he is being deceived. And now, wait until I
see whether those gentlemen have posted themselves as they ought around
the den, for, if the beast escapes us, he must not escape them. I will
return in five minutes.”
Christian remained alone in a strange scene. Since leaving the chalet,
he had come with his guide through the depths of a magnificent forest,
covering with its great green waves the flanks of the mountain. The
profusion of fine trees in these regions, and the difficulty of
transporting them elsewhere for manufacturing purposes, have occasioned
the contemptuous, and one might almost say impious, prodigality with
which the inhabitants of the country treat these noble children of
the wilderness. To make the smallest tool, the most insignificant
plaything (the Dalecarlian herdsman, like the Swiss, is very skilful
in cutting and carving resinous wood), they sacrifice without regret
a giant of verdure, and often, to save themselves the trouble of
felling it, set fire to the roots; so much the worse for them, if the
flames spread and devour whole forests! In many places battalions of
black monsters can be seen rising over the snow, or, in summer, over
plains of cinders. These are the charred trunks that no longer afford
a refuge to any animal, and which are the abode of silence and of the
immobility of death.[6] Hunters in Russia are shocked to find, in the
splendid forests of that country, the same recklessness and the same
profanations.
The forest in which Christian now was, had neither been burned nor
felled, and it was not so painful, therefore, to mark its decay.
What you beheld was a grand desolation, a sublime destruction, due
exclusively to natural causes: the old age of the trees, the sinking
of the ground, the passage of storms. It was like some primeval forest
caught between the wandering ice-fields of polar seas. Great pines,
shattered and withered, rested upon their neighbors, still green and
erect, but whose tops or principal branches they had broken by their
fall. Enormous rocks had rolled over declivities, dragging with them
innumerable plants, that had either continued to live, broken and
twisted as they were, or had been replaced by a new growth springing
up over the ruin beneath. Several years must have elapsed since this
catastrophe, the result of some deluge, for young birch-trees were
growing upon heights which were nothing more than masses of debris and
land-slips. With the slightest breath of wind, these trees, which were
already beautiful, balanced to and fro the icicles suspended from their
light and pendant branches, with a quick, clicking sound, like that of
water flowing over pebbles.
This savage region was sublime. A thousand feet beneath him, Christian
beheld the torrent of the abyss (the _eïf_, or _strœm_, as
all streams of water are called), and was astonished to find that it
had precisely the same colors and the same undulations as if it had not
been frozen. At this distance it would have been impossible for a deaf
man to know that it was not dashing forward, roaring and tumultuous;
the eye was completely deceived by its dark metallic tint, covered
with enormous eddies, that looked like foam. But for Christian, whose
ear would have caught the slightest sound ascending from the ravine,
nothing could have seemed stranger than the contrast between the
apparent agitation of this impetuous torrent and its absolute silence.
Nothing in the world resembles death so much as a world thus petrified
by winter. Hence, the slightest sign of life in this motionless
picture, a footprint upon the snow, the short and stealthy flight of a
little bird, is greeted with surprise, and this surprise becomes almost
terror when an elk or doe flees before you, with rapid, resounding
steps, suddenly awakening the sleeping echoes of the solitude.
However, Christian was thinking just now, not of admiring nature, but
of preparing for his fight with the _wicked one_. His soul was
oppressed by a most sad and terrible thought. The danneman’s strange
narrative, which he had found almost incomprehensible at first, thanks
to his incorrect language and superstitious ideas, was beginning to
acquire a painful significance. This rustic sibyl, seduced by the
troll of the lake, this mysterious child brought up in the danneman’s
chalet, and which had disappeared when three or four years old, those
inexplicable intuitions that had come to him during the morning meal,
and which, perhaps, were merely reminiscences suddenly awakened--
“Yes,” he said, “now again, the recollection, or the delusion, returns
to me. The three lost cows--twenty years ago--the gun-shot that stopped
the fourth. It seems to me that I can hear now that fatal shot; it
seems to me that I can see the poor beast fall, and that I feel again
the sensation of grief and regret which I then experienced, and which
was perhaps my first emotion, the awakening within me of the life
of sentiment. Great God! I feel as if a whole forgotten world were
reanimated, and rising before me. Was it not yonder, at the turn of
that rock, at the edge of that red-colored precipice, that the scene
passed? It must have been there. Has my soul visited this place in
some anterior existence, or have I myself been here? And, in the
latter case, who can my father be? Who is that man, whom the danneman
came near killing before his suspicions had been lulled to sleep by
superstition? Why did the sibyl--my mother, perhaps--why did she
shudder when she touched my fingers? She was in a sort of trance, she
had not looked into my face; but she said I was the baron! And just
now, when I asked the danneman if the child had not some peculiar mark
about his hands, did not his anger and grief prove that he had observed
and understood this hereditary sign, more apparent, probably, in the
child than it now is in the man?
“Besides, even if he had noticed it in me to-day, he would have been
far enough from drawing any comparison. The idea of trying to recognize
me did not even occur to him. In his eyes, I was merely a curious and
jeering stranger, questioning him about the secret of his family, and
that secret is his shame. He prefers to turn it into a legend, a fairy
story. He is offended if you doubt the marvels he describes; he gets
angry if you suggest that the child’s fingers were like those of Baron
Olaus. It is only the truth, they say, that offends, and that truth I
have divined. Poor Karine, how terrified she was when she took me for
her seducer!
“Her seducer! who knows? This man, hated and despised by all, may have
done her violence. She would naturally have concealed her misfortune,
she would have made the most of the belief of her family in evil
spirits, to prevent her young brother, the danneman, from exposing
himself to danger, by seeking to revenge her upon a too powerful enemy.
Poor woman! Yes, certainly, she hates him, she fears him still! She
has become a seeress since her disaster--that is, mad! She must have
received a sort of education, since she knows by heart the ancient
poems of her country, and in her exaltation she draws from her confused
recollection of these tragic songs, gloomy threats and words of hatred.
At any rate, whether I am deceiving myself, or am drawing a logical
deduction from facts, I believe it is the hand of God that has led
me back to the hut from which I was carried off--why, and by whom?
Was it the danneman, the intrepid traveller, who bore me far away, to
remove from his sister’s eyes the living image of her remorse, or from
his family the sign of their shame? Or should I rather believe in the
jealousy of the wife of Olaus, according to the major’s theory?”
All these thoughts rushed through Christian’s mind, overwhelming him
with grief and agony. The idea of being the son of Baron Olaus only
redoubled his aversion for him. Under such circumstances he could only
regard him as the enemy of his mother’s honor and repose.
“Or again,” he continued, “who knows if it was not he himself who had
me kidnapped, to avoid fulfilling some promise made to his victim,
some engagement contracted towards her? Ah! if it were so, I should
remain in this country. Without seeking to make myself known, I would
go into service with the danneman; by my industry, my devotion, I would
certainly gain his respect, and perhaps the love of this family to
which I belong, and then I could try and bring back this poor seeress,
if not to her right mind, at least to a state of tranquillity, as I
succeeded formerly in calming the frenzy of my dear Sophia Goffredi.
What a strange destiny is mine! To be thus condemned to have two
mothers driven mad by despair! No matter; undeserved as this punishment
is, it gives me a duty to perform, and, in fulfilling it, I may be led
to some mysterious recompense. I accept the obligation imposed upon me.
Karine Bœtsoi may not remember that she has lost her child, but she
shall receive, from this time, the care and protection of a son.”
At this moment Christian thought he heard some one call. He looked
around, and on every side, but saw no one. The danneman had told him
to wait; he was to return for him: Christian hesitated, but, after a
second, a cry of distress made him start up, seize his weapons, and
rush forward in the direction of the voice.
Scaling with wonderful agility the overthrown trees and fragments
of debris hardened by the ice and interlocked by enormous roots,
Christian, without knowing it, came out at twenty steps from the bear’s
den. The terrible animal was on the ground between him and this cave,
licking up the blood which stained the snow around her bleeding flanks.
The danneman was at the opening of the den, pale, his hair blown by the
wind and as it were standing on end, and without any weapon at all in
his hands. His boar-spear, broken in the side of the bear, was lying
near the animal, and, instead of thinking of taking his gun from his
shoulder-belt to finish his work, Bœtsoi seemed fascinated by some
mysterious terror, or enchained by some inexplicable prudence.
As soon as he saw Christian he made signs to him, which the latter did
not comprehend; he guessed, however, that he was not to speak, and
took aim at the bear. Luckily, before pulling the trigger, he looked
again at Joë Bœtsoi, who ordered him, with a despairing gesture, to
stop. Christian, imitating his pantomime, asked whether he was to cut
the creature’s throat, in silence; and, on receiving a sign in the
affirmative, he marched straight up to the bear, who, upon her side,
arose erect and growling, to receive him.
“Quick! quick! or we are lost!” cried the danneman, who had taken the
gun, and seemed to be watching some invisible object at the bottom of
the den.
Christian did not wait to be told twice. Presenting his left arm,
wrapped in a cord, to the rather feeble embrace of the wounded bear, he
ripped her open in proper style, but without thinking that she might
fall forward, and that he ought to jump quickly aside, to give her
room. Luckily, the bear fell to one side, dragging Christian with her
to the ground; but her formidable claws, contracted in the death agony,
could do nothing now but clutch at the skirt of his coat. Buried in
the snow, and nailed down, as it were, by the weight and claws of the
_wicked one_, laid upon and thrust into the edge of his garment,
Christian had some difficulty in getting free, and he left behind him a
considerable portion of the major’s reindeer-skin coat, but he scarcely
thought of that now. The danneman was struggling with other enemies.
He had just fired into the dark cave, and another bear, black, and
of quite a good size, although young, had come forward to meet him,
with a threatening air; while two cubs, about the size of two strong
whelps, threw themselves between his legs, with no other intention, it
is true, than that of flying, but in such a way as to make it difficult
for him to maintain his equilibrium. The danneman, resolved to perish
rather than make room for his triple prey to pass, supported himself
against the trees, whose trunks formed a sort of naturally arched
entrance to the cave, and awaited the attack of the young bear, who
had been wounded by his shot; but, shaken in spite of himself by the
young ones, he had just fallen, and the wounded and furious animal was
throwing himself upon him, when Christian, sure of his eye and his
coolness, put a ball into the animal’s head, at a foot above that of
the man.
“Very well done!” said the danneman, springing up with agility.
In the meanwhile the cubs had run over his body, and, for the moment,
his only thought was to prevent them from escaping.
“Stay! stay!” said Christian, following the two fugitives with his eye;
“see what they are about!”
In fact the two cubs had rushed up to their dead mother, and had
glided, cowering, under her bleeding sides.
“It is only fair,” said the danneman, rubbing his arm, which the black
bear had bruised through the cord, “it is not our place to kill them.
We have each of us secured a prize. Call your comrades; for my part, I
am too much blown, and then I have had a fine fright, I confess. That
was a narrow escape; and without you--. But call them, I say. I will
talk about that another time.”
Christian shouted with all the strength of his lungs; and the danneman,
still trembling a little, but as attentive as ever, reloaded his gun
quickly, so as to have it in readiness in case the cubs should abandon
their mother’s body, and attempt to fly before the arrival of the other
hunters.
The firing had already notified the latter of the combat, and they soon
appeared, coming from three directions. Larrson, who was first, shouted
victory when he saw the enormous bear lying at Christian’s feet.
“Look out! stop!” cried Christian. “Our bear was a mother; she had two
fine young ones. I intercede for these poor orphans. Take them living.”
“Certainly,” replied Larrson. “To the rescue, comrades! here are some
pupils for us to bring up.”
They surrounded the corpse of the she-bear, and raised it cautiously;
for even when this animal seems to be dead it is necessary to be on
your guard, lest it should be feigning. They had some difficulty in
capturing the cubs, who already showed their claws and teeth, but
they were secured, at last, and carefully bound and muzzled. This
accomplished, they had leisure to admire the ample booty which the den
had concealed, and regrets were half expressed, which the danneman
hastened to anticipate.
“You must pardon me for what I have done,” he said to the two young
officers. “I had strong suspicions that that great spotted creature
was a mother; did I tell you she was spotted? Oh, I saw her plainly,
but I could not get a good look at the young ones, and, as for the
_friend_, I had not seen him at all. I have often been told that
the mother brings into her winter’s refuge a young _wicked one_,
who is neither the father of her little ones, nor even a relative of
the family, to defend and bring up her children, in case she should be
killed. Never having seen this, I hadn’t much faith in it; now, having
seen it, I believe it. If I had known as much before, I should have
brought two of you, so that each might have killed a fine animal; but
who could have expected such a thing? Not thinking to shoot, I only
took my gun by way of precaution, in case the Herr I was going with
should miss fire, and find himself in danger. As for the iron-shod
boar-spear, I had so little idea of using it, that I did not even
look to see whether the one I took was in good condition. Well then,”
continued the danneman, addressing Christian, “this is what happened.
I told you that I would return for you as soon as I had posted the
others, and as soon as this was done I intended to go straight back
where I had left you. But some beast must have disturbed the marks I
made last night; for, without getting lost exactly, I passed directly
before the den, and did not recognize where I was, until it was too
late to draw back. The _wicked one_ heard me, and she came
against me, because she had young ones. I tried to frighten her by
waving my arm, so as to make her return to her house, but she would
not be frightened, she rose on her hind legs. I ripped her open; I
had to do it, and at the same time I called twice. At the sound of my
voice the _friend_ came to the door of the house, and, to keep him
from escaping, I ran and stood before it, without remembering that my
boar-spear was lying broken by the mother. I thought she was dead, but
after I was standing there she rose up, fell down, and rose up again,
twice. Then, Herr Christian, the time seemed very long to me before you
arrived; for, on the one side I had the mother, who, at any moment,
might recover strength enough to throw herself upon me, and, on the
other, the _friend_, who was only waiting for this reinforcement
to begin a quarrel with me himself, without counting the two young
ones, who I knew very well would be between my legs as soon as the
fight should be begun. Against all that I had only one gun-shot, and
that was not enough! I did not even dare take aim; for, at the sight of
a weapon aimed, the _wicked ones_ come to the point more quickly.
I was frightened; I can acknowledge it now without shame, since I did
not stir a foot, and since the four creatures are in our hands. I
waited for you--it seemed to me that I waited a year--and yet I believe
you came very quickly, Herr Christian, since all has turned out so
well--yes, very well indeed, I declare, and you are a brave man! I am
sorry there should have been any angry words between us beforehand.
But it is all forgotten; it is not my life only that I owe you, but my
heart, just as much. Come and embrace me, and remember that I look upon
you as my son.”
Christian embraced the Dalecarlian with deep emotion, and the latter
related to the rest of the party how, after quickly despatching the
she-bear, body to body, the young man had killed the _friend_ very
opportunely, by lodging a ball in his head, at only two inches from
his, Bœtsoi’s, face. Christian objected modestly to the danneman’s
exaggeration upon this latter point; but as Bœtsoi, in his enthusiasm,
would not abate a jot from his statement, and as there were no means of
proving the facts, the exploit of the young adventurer assumed colossal
proportions in the imagination of Larrson and his friends. Their esteem
for him increased accordingly, and this is not at all surprising.
Presence of mind is the highest faculty of true courage. We pity those
who fail, but we admire those who succeed. Without being betrayed
into self-admiration, Christian felt a deep satisfaction at having
acquired a claim to the friendship of the danneman, whom he persisted
henceforth in regarding as his near relative; but he was very careful
not to return to his imprudent questions. He resolved to seek the truth
elsewhere, even if it should require a great deal of time and patience
to arrive at it.
The weight of the two dead bears, especially that of the female, was
enormous; together, they weighed more than four hundred pounds. To
drag them over that rough country, where it was with difficulty that
you could make your own way, seemed impossible. Even horses could not
have accomplished it. As the day had reached its meridian, and as the
young officers wanted to join the baron’s hunt, they found themselves
embarrassed with too much riches. Even the cubs, who refused to walk,
were very much in the way.
“Go along with you,” said the danneman; “with my children I will soon
fell two or three young trees, and build a hurdle; we will put the
bears on that, and slide it along to my house. From there, I will send
them to you by my sleigh and horse; they shall be at your bostoelle in
two hours, so that you can show them to your friends.”
“And we will return the dead animals to you to-morrow,” said Larrson,
“for we would not trust any one else to skin and prepare them. Is not
that your wish, Christian?”
“Whatever pleases you is agreeable to me,” replied Christian.
“Not at all!” the major rejoined; “the bear we purchased from the
danneman is the one you have just killed. It belongs to you, as the
one he shot belongs to him, unless he is willing to sell it.”
“He killed them both,” said Christian; “I did nothing but finish his
work; I have no right to anything.”
An animated discussion followed, in which the danneman vied with his
guests in delicacy, and showed that he was as scrupulously honest as
themselves. At last Christian was obliged to yield, and to accept the
she-bear as his prize. The two cubs were purchased from the danneman
at the price of one bear, and he was obliged to accept, as exclusively
his own, the friend of Madame Bear. Matters being thus arranged, the
major and his friends wanted to carry Christian away with them, but he
declined.
“I have no wish to go to the baron’s hunt,” he said; “you yourselves
told me that it is not at all interesting in comparison with this one,
and, besides, I have no time. Remember that for two days more I am
bound by contract to keep on with my present business. I will remain
here and help the danneman carry away the _wicked ones_, after
which I will avail myself of his sleigh, to return as far as the lake.
Do not forget that you have promised M. Goefle and myself to come and
see us at Stollborg.”
“We will go after supper, when the comedy is over,” replied the major;
“you can rely upon us.”
“And I,” said the danneman to Christian, “will guarantee that you shall
reach the lake before night.”
They had not much time to lose. The officers returned to their country
sleighs, and the danneman, assisted by Christian, and also by his
son Olof, and his eldest daughter, who now joined them, proceeded,
with great skill and quickness, to the building of his hand-sledge.
When completed, and loaded with the game, they slid it along without
difficulty, some drawing, and the others pushing or holding it back,
until they reached the chalet.
As soon as they arrived, Christian looked for the seeress. The curtain
of the bed was drawn and motionless. Was she still there? He longed to
see this mysterious woman again, and to try and talk to her, but he
dared not approach her bed. He imagined that the danneman kept his
eye upon him, and that he would have been greatly displeased by any
appearance of curiosity.
The youngest of the danneman’s daughters brought some brandy, made in
the house; that famous corn-brandy, whose manufacture Gustavus III.
afterwards made a state monopoly, thus burdening his subjects with a
heavy and vexatious tax, that robbed him of all his popularity, and
reduced to their former poverty the very people whom he had freed from
the tyranny of the nobles. Is the frequent use of brandy really a
necessity in these rigorous climates? Christian thought not, and his
opinion was strengthened by the fact that this special beverage, which
the danneman had made with his own hands, and of which he was very
proud, was so strong as literally to take the skin off the throat. The
worthy man urged his guest to drink copiously; he could not understand
that he should not feel the necessity of getting a little intoxicated,
after killing two bears. But Christian could not carry his good-nature
so far as that. He would have been very well pleased to have had
strength and coolness enough to get Bœtsoi drunk, without losing his
own head; but, as it was, he confined himself to drinking some tea,
left for him by the major, and served hot, in a wooden cup, very
tastefully cut and carved by the youthful Olof.
The young man was a little mortified at having enjoyed the royal
pleasure of killing a bear at the expense of his friends; for, in a
word, this bear was the property of the danneman, as all game belongs,
without question, to the person who finds it on his lands. They had
made Christian a present of his prize; that is, they had purchased it
for him. He learned with pleasure from the danneman that it was not yet
paid for. The major and his friends, not foreseeing that the hunt would
be so successful, had not brought money enough. Christian inquired the
price of the animal.
“That depends upon circumstances,” said the danneman, proudly; “if you
leave me the beast, as is sometimes done, it is simply a ‘thank you,’
which I owe the person who helped me slay him; but, no doubt, Herr
Christian, you will want the skin, the claws, the fat, and the legs.”
“I don’t want any of them at all,” said Christian, laughing. “Good
heavens! what should I do with them? I beg you to keep the whole
animal, Herr Bœtsoi, and, as I presume you have the right to sell
rather dearer to those who have enjoyed the privilege of hunting on
your land than you would do to customers purchasing plainly and simply
a commodity, I beg you to accept thirty dalers that I have about me--”
Christian finished his sentence mentally:
“And which is all that I possess.”
“Thirty dalers!” cried the danneman, “that is a great deal. You are
very rich, then?”
“I am rich enough to beg you to accept them.”
The danneman took the money, looked at it, and then looked at
Christian’s hands, but without noticing anything but their whiteness.
“Your gold is good,” he said, “and your hand is white. You are not a
laborer, and yet you eat kakebroe like a Dalecarlian. Your face belongs
to this country, and your speech does not,--the clothes you had on when
you came here, were no better than mine. I can see one thing, anyhow,
and that is that you are proud; you don’t wish your friends, who gave
up, for your sake, the pleasure of killing the bear, to spend their
money for you.”
“Precisely, Herr Bœtsoi, you are right.”
“Have no fear. Joë Bœtsoi is an honest man; he will not take anything
from your friends, since you leave him the game. As to accepting a
reward from you--that depends. Can you swear to me, on your honor, that
you are a rich young man, the child of a noble family?”
“What difference does it make?” said Christian.
“No, no,” resumed the danneman, “you have saved my life; I don’t say
much about that, for I would have done as much for you; but you are
a skilful marksman, and still more, you are a man who can listen to
another. When I made you a sign over yonder, if you had not been
willing to do what I wished, we should both of us have been in a bad
way--and I especially, without my boar-spear, and with my arm not well
wrapped up. I am very much pleased with you, and I only wish that my
son was like you in looks and character, for you are both brave and
gentle. So, if you are not rich, don’t pretend to me that you are. Why
should you? I am not poor myself. In my plain house, such as it is,
I want for nothing; and if you are in any need you can apply to Joë
Bœtsoi. He would have no trouble at all in finding thirty dalers, or
even a hundred, to render a service to a friend.”
“I am sure of it, Herr Bœtsoi,” said Christian, “and I may possibly
return to you (and if I do it will be with entire confidence), not to
ask you for a hundred or for thirty dalers, but to beg you to give me
employment. I don’t say this is certain, but it may happen, and in that
case I should come to you with much more pleasure if I pay you now what
I owe you, and what a rich man would pay you. I did not come here in
the character of a poor man; you do not owe me anything.”
“I don’t want any payment,” said the danneman; “take back your money,
and come to me when you choose. What can you do?”
“Whatever you will teach me, I will do quickly.”
The danneman smiled.
“That is to say,” he said, “that you don’t know how to do anything.”
“I can kill bears, at any rate.”
“Yes, and very well too. You know how to handle an axe also, and to cut
wood; I saw that. But would you be able to travel?”
“That is what I can do best of all.”
“Can you sleep on a bench?”
“Yes, or on a stone.”
“Can you speak Laplandish, Samoïede, Russian?”
“No, I can speak Italian, Spanish, French, German and English.”
“That would do me no good, but it shows me that you can learn to speak
in various tongues. Very well, come when you choose, before the end
of the month of _Thor_ (January), and, if you would like to go
to Drontheim, or even farther, I shall be very glad not to travel
alone; or, if I should take Olof with me, for he is tormenting me to
let him begin to travel, you can look after my house. My two daughters
are betrothed, I give you fair warning. Avoid giving their lovers any
occasion for jealousy; it would be at your own risk. Take care of
Aunt Karine; she is gentle, but she must not be contradicted: I have
forbidden it once for all.”
“I will care for her as if she were my mother,” replied Christian,
deeply moved; “but tell me, is she ill or infirm? Why?--”
“They will tell you that, if you come to the house. What wages do you
want?”
“Nothing.”
“How, nothing?”
“Bread and shelter; is not that enough?”
“Herr Christian,” said the danneman, frowning, “you are then either
lazy or a bad fellow, since you do not think of the future.”
Christian saw, that by being too disinterested, he had caused the
danneman to distrust him.
“Do you know M. Goefle?” he said.
“The lawyer? Yes, very well; it was I who sold him his horse. He is a
good horse, and the lawyer is an honest man!”
“Very good; he will answer for me. Will that be satisfactory?”
“Yes, it is settled. Take back your money.”
“Suppose I should ask you to keep it for me?”
“Why so, is it stolen money?” cried the danneman, becoming suspicious
again.
Christian began to laugh, and was obliged to confess that he was a very
poor diplomat.
“Believe me,” he said to the danneman, “I am straightforward and
sincere. Every one gives me the credit of having an honest face, and
I am not accustomed, therefore, to having my word doubted. If you
don’t take my thirty dalers to-day, the major will give them to you
to-morrow, and that would annoy me.”
“The major will not give me anything, for I will not accept anything,”
replied the danneman, with energy. “It is you, now, who are doubting
me.”
Christian was obliged to resign the satisfaction of leaving his small
fortune in this house, which was perhaps his mother’s refuge. The
discussion, though honorable in itself, might have degenerated into
a quarrel, for the danneman was feeding his ingenuous pride as a
free peasant with rather too plentiful potations of brandy. Besides,
the sleigh was ready, and Christian had to start. Nothing would have
induced him to fail in either of his two performances, for which he was
to receive a hundred dalers; a sum that would enable him to begin the
new life he was dreaming about, without being indebted to anybody.
He thought the danneman intended to accompany him; but, instead of
getting into the sleigh, he gave the reins to his son, enjoining him at
the same time to drive carefully, and to return early.
“I hoped to have the pleasure of your company as far as Waldemora,”
said Christian to the danneman.
“No!” replied the latter, “I never go to Waldemora, for my part. I
should have to be carried there by force. Farewell, until we meet
again.”
There was so much haughtiness and disdain in the danneman’s tone when
he spoke of Waldemora, that Christian, as he shook hands with him, felt
afraid that he would notice the conformation of his fingers, and that
their resemblance to the baron’s, whether accidental or inherited,
would destroy all their friendship; but the deformity was so slight
that the danneman, with his rough hand, did not notice it at all, and
several times, as his guest was driving away, he sent after him a
cordial farewell.
In spite of his father’s recommendations, Olof drove his little horse
to the bottom of the valley at a full gallop, while he himself stood up
on the front seat of the vehicle with the reins twisted round his arms,
at the risk of being hurled to a distance in case of an upset, and of
having his wrists dislocated, at the very least.
[Footnote 6: It is only very lately that the government in Sweden has
taken measures--too late, perhaps--to check these devastations.]