_Friday, May sixth_.
No one could be more gentle and kind than the little gray goose Dunfin.
All the wild geese loved her, and the tame white goosey-gander would
have died for her. When Dunfin asked for anything not even Akka could
say no.
As soon as Dunfin came to Lake Mälar the landscape looked familiar to
her. Just beyond the lake lay the sea, with many wooded islands, and
there, on a little islet, lived her parents and her brothers and
sisters. She begged the wild geese to fly to her home before travelling
farther north, that she might let her family see that she was still
alive. It would be such a joy to them.
Akka frankly declared that she thought Dunfin's parents and brothers and
sisters had shown no great love for her when they abandoned her at
Öland, but Dunfin would not admit that Akka was in the right. "What else
was there to do, when they saw that I could not fly?" she protested.
"Surely they couldn't remain at Öland on my account!"
Dunfin began telling the wild geese all about her home in the
archipelago, to try to induce them to make the trip. Her family lived on
a rock island. Seen from a distance, there appeared to be nothing but
stone there; but when one came closer, there were to be found the
choicest goose tidbits in clefts and hollows, and one might search long
for better nesting places than those that were hidden in the mountain
crevices or among the osier bushes. But the best of all was the old
fisherman who lived there. Dunfin had heard that in his youth he had
been a great shot and had always lain in the offing and hunted birds.
But now, in his old age--since his wife had died and the children had
gone from home, so that he was alone in the hut--he had begun to care
for the birds on his island. He never fired a shot at them, nor would he
permit others to do so. He walked around amongst the birds' nests, and
when the mother birds were sitting he brought them food. Not one was
afraid of him. They all loved him.
Dunfin had been in his hut many times, and he had fed her with bread
crumbs. Because he was kind to the birds, they flocked to his island in
such great numbers that it was becoming overcrowded. If one happened to
arrive a little late in the spring, all the nesting places were
occupied. That was why Dunfin's family had been obliged to leave her.
Dunfin begged so hard that she finally had her way, although the wild
geese felt that they were losing time and really should be going
straight north. But a little trip like this to the cliff island would
not delay them more than a day.
So they started off one morning, after fortifying themselves with a good
breakfast, and flew eastward over Lake Mälar. The boy did not know for
certain where they were going; but he noticed that the farther east they
flew, the livelier it was on the lake and the more built up were the
shores.
Heavily freighted barges and sloops, boats and fishing smacks were on
their way east, and these were met and passed by many pretty white
steamers. Along the shores ran country roads and railway tracks--all in
the same direction. There was some place beyond in the east where all
wished to go to in the morning.
On one of the islands the boy saw a big, white castle, and to the east
of it the shores were dotted with villas. At the start these lay far
apart, then they became closer and closer, and, presently, the whole
shore was lined with them. They were of every variety--here a castle,
there a cottage; then a low manor house appeared, or a mansion, with
many small towers. Some stood in gardens, but most of them were in the
wild woods which bordered the shores. Despite their dissimilarity, they
had one point of resemblance--they were not plain and sombre-looking,
like other buildings, but were gaudily painted in striking greens and
blues, reds and white, like children's playhouses.
As the boy sat on the goose's back and glanced down at the curious shore
mansions, Dunfin cried out with delight: "Now I know where I am! Over
there lies the City that Floats on the Water."
The boy looked ahead. At first he saw nothing but some light clouds and
mists rolling forward over the water, but soon he caught sight of some
tall spires, and then one and another house with many rows of windows.
They appeared and disappeared--rolling hither and thither--but not a
strip of shore did he see! Everything over there appeared to be resting
on the water.
Nearer to the city he saw no more pretty playhouses along the
shores--only dingy factories. Great heaps of coal and wood were stacked
behind tall planks, and alongside black, sooty docks lay bulky freight
steamers; but over all was spread a shimmering, transparent mist, which
made everything appear so big and strong and wonderful that it was
almost beautiful.
The wild geese flew past factories and freight steamers and were
nearing the cloud-enveloped spires. Suddenly all the mists sank to the
water, save the thin, fleecy ones that circled above their heads,
beautifully tinted in blues and pinks. The other clouds rolled over
water and land. They entirely obscured the lower portions of the houses:
only the upper stories and the roofs and gables were visible. Some of
the buildings appeared to be as high as the Tower of Babel. The boy no
doubt knew that they were built upon hills and mountains, but these he
did not see--only the houses that seemed to float among the white,
drifting clouds. In reality the buildings were dark and dingy, for the
sun in the east was not shining on them.
The boy knew that he was riding above a large city, for he saw spires
and house roofs rising from the clouds in every direction. Sometimes an
opening was made in the circling mists, and he looked down into a
running, tortuous stream; but no land could he see. All this was
beautiful to look upon, but he felt quite distraught--as one does when
happening upon something one cannot understand.
When he had gone beyond the city, he found that the ground was no longer
hidden by clouds, but that shores, streams, and islands were again
plainly visible. He turned to see the city better, but could not, for
now it looked quite enchanted. The mists had taken on colour from the
sunshine and were rolling forward in the most brilliant reds, blues, and
yellows. The houses were white, as if built of light, and the windows
and spires sparkled like fire. All things floated on the water as
before.
The geese were travelling straight east. They flew over factories and
workshops; then over mansions edging the shores. Steamboats and tugs
swarmed on the water; but now they came from the east and were steaming
westward toward the city.
The wild geese flew on, but instead of the narrow Mälar fiords and the
little islands, broader waters and larger islands spread under them. At
last the land was left behind and seen no more.
They flew still farther out, where they found no more large inhabited
islands--only numberless little rock islands were scattered on the
water. Now the fiords were not crowded by the land. The sea lay before
them, vast and limitless.
Here the wild geese alighted on a cliff island, and as soon as their
feet touched the ground the boy turned to Dunfin.
"What city did we fly over just now?" he asked.
"I don't know what human beings have named it," said Dunfin. "We gray
geese call it the 'City that Floats on the Water'."