yellow and cold, and a great awakening of stars in the sky. But Ove
Rolandsen had no time now for watching meteor flights, though he’d as
great a fancy as ever for such things. There had been gangs of men at
work on Mack’s factory of late, pulling down here and setting up there,
under orders from Rolandsen, who managed it all. He had settled all
difficulties now, and was a man of mark.
“I knew he would get on,” said Old Mack. “I believed in him all along.”
“I did not,” said proud Elise. “The way he goes about now. It’s as if
he’d been the saving of us all.”
“Oh, it’s not as bad as that,” said Mack.
“He says a word of greeting when he passes, but he never stops for a
reply. He just walks on.”
“Ah! he’s busy, that’s all.”
“He’s sneaked into the family, that’s what he’s done,” said Elise, her
lips a little pale. “Wherever we are, he’s sure to be there too. But if
he’s any ideas in his head about me, he’s very much mistaken.”
Elise went back to town.
And everything went on as usual, as if one could do without her well
enough. But it was this way now with Rolandsen: from the time he had
entered into partnership with Mack, he had promised himself to do good
work and not waste time in dreaming of other things. Dreams and fancies
for the summer-time--and then best to stop. But some go dreaming all
their lives; go fluttering mothwise all their lives, and never can make
an end. Now here was Jomfru van Loos in Bergen. Rolandsen had had a
letter from her, to say she didn’t really never at all make out as he
was beneath her, seeing he hadn’t demeaned himself with burglary and
thieving after all, but only doing it for monkey tricks and fun. And
that she took back her words about breaking it off, if so be it wasn’t
too late and couldn’t be altered.
Elise Mack came home again in October. It was said she was properly
engaged now, and her betrothed, Henrik Burnus Henriksen, captain of the
coasting vessel, was visiting her. There was to be a grand ball in the
great hall at Rosengaard, and a troupe of wandering musicians, on their
way down from Finmarken, had been hired to play flutes and trumpets on
the night. All the village was invited, Rolandsen with the rest, and
Olga was to be there, and be received as Frederik Mack’s intended. But
the Vicarage people were, unfortunately, prevented. A new chaplain had
been appointed, and was expected every day, and the present incumbent,
good man, was going elsewhere, up to the northward, where another flock
needed his care. He was not altogether displeased to be going away now,
to plough and sow new ground; he had not always been happy in his work
here. He could look back upon a great deal accomplished; he had got
Levion’s sister to call to mind the one man who owed her marriage. It
was the village carpenter, a house-owner, a man of property, and with
money stored under his pillow. When the priest joined them together
before the altar, it was with a feeling of satisfaction. After all,
unceasing toil might here and there bear fruit among the benighted.
All things came right in time--and praise the Lord, thought the priest.
His household was in something nearer order now, the new housekeeper
had come, and old and reliable she was; he would take her with him and
keep her on at the new place. All would come right in time, no doubt.
The priest had been a hard man to deal with, but none seemed to bear
him enmity for that. When he stepped on board down at the waterside,
there were many had come to see him off. As for Rolandsen, he would not
let slip this opportunity of showing courtesy. Mack’s boat was there
already with three men, waiting for him, but he would not go on board
until the Vicarage folk had gone. In spite of all, the priest could not
but thank him for so much consideration. And as Lay-helper Levion had
carried the new priest’s lady ashore when first they came, so now he
carried her on board again as well. Matters were looking brighter now
for Levion, too, seeing the priest had undertaken to say a word for his
reinstatement in his former post.
All would come right, no doubt.
“Now if you weren’t going north and I south,” said Rolandsen, “we might
go together.”
“Yes,” said the priest. “But let us remember, my dear Rolandsen, that
we may go north and we may go south, but we shall all meet again in one
place at the last!” Thus spoke the priest in priestly wise, and was
unshaken to the last.
Fruen sat in the stern, wearing the same pitiful shoes; they had been
patched, but were grown most heartily ugly thereby. Yet she was not
downcast for that; far from it; her eyes shone, and she was joyful at
the thought of coming to some new place, to see what there might be.
Though she could not help feeling a wistful regret for a big grey
pebblestone that her husband would not let her put in her trunk, for
all it was so pretty to see.
They pushed off from land, and there was a waving of hats and
sou’westers and handkerchiefs, and calling “_Farvel!_” from the boat
and from the shore.
Then Rolandsen went on board. He had to be at Rosengaard that evening;
a double engagement was to be celebrated, and here again he could not
let slip the chance of being polite. Mack’s boat had no pennant at the
mast, wherefore he had borrowed a magnificent one of huge dimensions on
his own account, and had it hoisted before setting out.
He came to Rosengaard that evening. The great trading station was
evidently decked for a festival; there were lights in the windows on
both floors, and the ships in the harbour were fluttering their flags,
though it was already dark. Rolandsen said to his men, “Go ashore now,
and send three others to relieve; I shall be starting back to the
factory at midnight.”
Frederik Mack came out at once to receive him, and Frederik was in high
spirits. He had now every hope of getting that berth as mate; then he
would be able to marry, and be something on his own account. Old Mack
too was pleased, and wore the decoration given him by the King on the
royal visit to Finmarken. Neither Elise nor Captain Henriksen were to
be seen--cooing somewhere by themselves, no doubt.
Rolandsen took a glass or so, and set himself to be quiet and strong.
He sat down with Old Mack, and talked over various matters of business:
this dye-stuff, now, that he had discovered; it had seemed a trifle at
first, but already it looked like becoming a main product, perhaps the
chief of all. He needed machinery and plant, apparatus for distilling.
Elise came by; she looked Rolandsen full in the face and said,
“_Godaften_” out loud, and nodded. Rolandsen stood up and bowed, but
she walked by.
“She’s very busy this evening,” said Mack.
“And we shall have to have everything in readiness before the Lofoten
fishing begins,” said Rolandsen, sitting down again. Ho-ho! He was
not to be crushed, not to be in the least put out by any sort of
feeling!--“I still think the best thing to do would be to charter a
small steamer and send up, with Frederik as master.”
“Frederik may be getting another post now. But we can talk it all over
to-morrow; there’s plenty of time.”
“I am going back to-night.”
“Nonsense!” said Mack. “There’s no earthly need for that.”
Rolandsen stood up and said shortly, “At midnight.” Firm and
inflexible, that was the way.
“Well, really, I had thought you would stay the night. On a special
occasion like this. I think I may call it something of a special
occasion.”
They walked about among the others, stopping to exchange a few words
here and there. Rolandsen encountered Captain Henriksen, and they drank
together as if they had been old friends, though neither had seen the
other before. The Captain was a cheery fellow, a trifle stout.
Then the music struck up, tables were laid in three rooms, and
Rolandsen behaved admirably in choosing himself a place well apart from
the most distinguished guests. Mack, making a round of the tables,
found him there, and said, “What, are you sitting here? Well, now, I
was going to....”
Said Rolandsen, “Not at all, thanks very much; we can hear your speech
quite nicely from here.”
Mack shook his head. “No, I’m not going to make any speech.” And he
moved off with a thoughtful air, as if something had upset him.
The meal went on; there was much wine, and a great buzz of voices. When
the coffee came round, Rolandsen started writing out a wire. It was
to Jomfru van Loos in Bergen, to say it was by no means too late and
couldn’t be altered, come north soonest possible.--Yours, OVE.
And that was well, all things were excellently well--delightful! He
went down himself to the station and sent off the wire. Then he went
back to the house. There was more life and movement about the tables
now; guests changed places; Elise came through to where he sat, and
offered her hand. She begged him to excuse her having passed by so
hurriedly before.
“If you only knew how lovely you are again this evening,” said he, and
was calm and polite.
“Do you think so, now?”
“I always did think so. I’m an old admirer of yours, you know. Don’t
you remember last year, when I actually proposed to you?”
But she did not seem to like his tone now, and went away for the time
being. But a little later he came upon her again. Frederik had led out
his lady, the dancing had begun, and no one took any notice of a couple
talking together.
Said Elise, “Oh, by the way, I’ve heard from an old acquaintance of
yours, Jomfru van Loos.”
“Have you, though?”
“She heard I was going to be married, and wants to come and keep house
for me. I believe she’s a very good housekeeper. But of course you know
her better than I do.”
“She is very clever, yes. But she can’t come and keep house for you.”
“Oh...?”
“Seeing I’ve wired her this evening offering her another post. She’s
engaged to me now.”
Proud Elise started at that, and looked hard at him. “I thought it was
over between you,” she said.
“Oh, well, you know what they say about old love.... It _was_ all over
at one time, but now....”
“I see,” said Elise.
Then said Rolandsen, magnificently polite, “I can’t help saying you’ve
never been so lovely as you are to-night! And then your dress, that
dark-red velvet dress....”
He felt very pleased with himself after that speech; no one could ever
imagine the least unrest behind it.
“You didn’t seem to care so very much for her,” said Elise.
He saw that her eyes were dewed, and he winced. A little strangeness in
her voice, too, confused him, and the look on his face changed suddenly.
“Where’s your splendid coolness now?” she asked, and smiled.
“You’ve taken it,” he said in a low voice.
Then suddenly she stroked his hand, a single touch, and left him. She
hurried in through the rooms, seeing none and hearing nothing, only
hurrying on. In the passage stood her brother, and he called to her;
she turned her all-smiling face full towards him, and the tears dripped
from her lashes; then she ran upstairs to her room.
A quarter of an hour later her father came up. She flung her arms round
his neck and said, “I can’t!”
“Eh? No, no. But you must come down again and dance; they’re asking
after you. And what have you been saying to Rolandsen? He’s changed so
all in a moment. Have you been rude to him again?”
“Oh no, no, I wasn’t rude to him....”
“Because if you were, you’ll have to put it right at once. He’s leaving
at twelve o’clock to-night.”
“Leaving at twelve!” Elise was ready in a moment, and said, “I’m coming
down at once.”
She went downstairs, and found Captain Henriksen.
“I can’t,” said she.
He made no answer.
“I dare say it’s so much the worse for me, but I simply can’t.”
“Very well, then,” was all he said.
She could not give any further explanation, and the Captain apparently
having no more to say, nothing more was said. Elise went down to the
telegraph station and telegraphed Jomfru van Loos, Bergen, not to
accept Ove Rolandsen’s offer, same being again not seriously meant.
Await letter.--ELISE MACK.
Then she went home and joined the dancers again.
“Is it true you’re leaving at twelve to-night?” she asked Rolandsen.
“Yes.”
“Then I’m going with you to the factory. I’ve something to do there.”
And she stroked his hand once more.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
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OTHER GYLDENDAL BOOKS
Works by KNUT HAMSUN
(NORWEGIAN)
(_NOBEL PRIZE, 1920_)
GROWTH OF THE SOIL
Translated by W. WORSTER, M.A.
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PAN
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=By JOHANNES BUCHHOLTZ= (Danish)
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* * * * *
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his extraordinary achievements and failures in another, is one of the
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* * * * *
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Translated by DAVID PRITCHARD
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* * * * *
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The Soul-life of a Child in its First Four Years
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* * * * *
Transcriber's Note
The following apparent errors have been corrected:
p. iii "“GROWTH OF THE SOIL’ “PAN" changed to "“GROWTH OF THE SOIL”
“PAN”"
p. xxiv "Hamsund" changed to "Hamsun"
p. vvxiii "tenperaments" changed to "temperaments"
p. 9 "Loos.”" changed to "Loos."
p. 27 "Mark hired" changed to "Mack hired"
p. 42 "bitterly" changed to "bitterly."
p. 72 "deperately" changed to "desperately"
p. 128 "burning," changed to "burning"
p. 146 "need that" changed to "need than"