* * * * *
I begin to meet people in the forest--_my_ forest. They gather flowers
and break branches, and I feel as though they were robbing me. If only I
could forbid people to walk in the forest and to boat on The Sound!
It is quite bad enough to have the gardener prowling about in my garden.
He is all over the place. The garden seems to have shrunk since he came.
And yet, in spite of myself, I often stand watching the man when he is
digging. He has such muscular strength and uses it so skilfully. He puts
on very humble airs in my presence, but his insolent eyes take in
everything.
Torp wears herself out evolving tasty dishes for him, and in return he
plays cards with her.
Jeanne avoids him. She literally picks up her skirts when she has to go
past him. I like to see her do this.
* * * * *
This morning Jeanne and I laughed like two children. I was standing on
the shore looking at the sea, and said absent-mindedly:
"It must be splendid bathing here."
Jeanne replied:
"Yes, if we had a bathing-hut."
And I, still absent-minded, murmured:
"Yes, if we had a bathing-hut."
Suddenly we went off into fits of laughter. We could not stop ourselves.
Now Jeanne has gone hunting for workmen. We will make them work by the
piece, otherwise they will never finish the job. I had some experience
this autumn with the youth who was paid by the day to chop wood for us.
When the hut is built I will bathe every day in the sunshine.
* * * * *
They are both master-carpenters, and seem to be very good friends.
Jeanne and I lie in the boat and watch them, and stimulate them with
beer from time to time. But it does not seem to have much effect. One
has a wife and twelve children who are starving. When they have starved
for a while, they take to begging. The man sings like a lark. He has
spent two years in America, but he assures me it is "all tommy-rot" the
way they work like steam-engines there. Consequently he soon returned to
his native land.
"Denmark," he says, "is such a nice little country, and all this water
and the forests make it so pretty...."
Jeanne and I laugh at all this and amuse ourselves royally.
The day before yesterday neither of the men appeared. A child had died
on the island, and one of them, who is also a coffin-maker, had to
supply a coffin. This seemed a reasonable excuse. But when I inquired
whether the coffin was finished, he replied:
"I bought one ready-made in the town ... saved me a lot of bother, that
did."
His friend and colleague had been to the town with him to help him in
his choice!
The water is clear and the sands are white and firm. I am longing to try
the bathing. Jeanne, who rows well, volunteered to take me out in the
boat. But to bathe from the boat and near these men! I would rather
wait!
* * * * *
Full moon. In the far distance boats go by with their white sails. They
glide through the dusk like swans on a lake. The silence is so intense
that I can hear when a fish rises or a bird stirs in its nest. The scent
of the red roses that blossomed yesterday ascends to my window here....
Joergen Malthe....
When I write his name it is as though I gave him one of those caressing
touches for which my fingers yearn and quiver....
Yes, a dip in the sea will calm me.
I will undress in the house and wrap myself in my dressing-gown. Then I
can slip through the pine-trees unseen....
* * * * *
It was glorious, glorious! What do I want a bathing-hut for? I go into
the sea straight from my own garden, and the sand is soft and firm to my
feet like the pine-needles under the trees.
The sea is phosphorescent; I seemed to be dipping my arms in liquid
silver. I longed to splash about and make sparkles all around me. But I
was very cautious. I swam only as far as the stakes to which the
fishermen fasten their nets. The moon seemed to be suspended just over
my head.