Madam Speckbom had some practice, too, in the suburbs of the city; and
she was very proud when a carriage, or even a gig, stopped before her
door.
Elsie was now and then permitted to go with her when there was room;
and these trips were, in fact, all that Loppen saw of country life.
Otherwise, she never went beyond the narrow, crooked streets of the
town; or, at most, stole a boat and rowed a way out in the bay.
But one pleasant day toward the last of August, she was permitted to
go into the country with Madam; a call had come from Consul With’s
brick-works, where the foreman’s wife was one of Madam’s old patients.
The whole Ark was in a commotion because of the event, and all the
children of the neighborhood stood in awe about the gig to see Madam
Speckbom climb in. Christian Falbe stood above and nodded; “the gang”
had gathered around the front window of the garret, from which they
could see the gig drive away; and they shouted and winked at Loppen.
She turned, beaming with delight, and laughed so it rang in the narrow
street.
The sun was not really bright yet. It shone violet-grey through the
motionless, heavy, autumn fog which rose from the water and damp
marshes, and mingled with the dark brown, morning smoke from all the
chimneys down in the town.
But when they came up higher, there was no more fog, except far
below, where a dot still hung over the parks or over the big trees by
the church. And it grew warm and quite clear, so one could glimpse
the strip of open sea, out in the west. But over the fjord with its
islands, and the lofty, blue mountains, down over the meadows and
golden harvest-fields, and up over the hillocks and patches of heather,
which were blue with blossoms, over all lay the early autumn morning,
so peacefully--so peacefully and softly.
Loppen laughed and talked so much at first that Madam Speckbom bade her
hold her tongue. Madam had rather entertain herself with the coach boy,
who stood behind, about the state of health and things in general out
in the country.
Elsie held her tongue then, not just because she cared so much about
what Madam said, but gradually she lost all desire to talk.
She began to enjoy it more by herself--all that she saw around her. She
no longer cried out, every time she saw a cow; but it made her happy
to think how good it seemed to walk about and feed in the fresh, cool
grass.
It was quite motionless; and the water which came and vanished among
the hills was as bright as a mirror. The rye was light golden; but the
oats yet had flecks of green, down in the valleys, where the soil was
deep. The heavy, short heads hung low, after the wind which had blown
the day before; and over all was such a warm, ripe fragrance.
But when they had gone so far from town, that the fields ceased and the
heather spread in great, violet tufts on both sides of the road; then
the air became so oppressively rich that Elsie threw her breath all out
several times, and clasped her bosom; it felt as if her bodice was too
tight.
All this beauty of nature, of which she knew so little, filled her with
a kind of pain, so that tears came into her eyes. She reviewed all her
little short-comings, and thought she was not good enough to be shone
upon by this blessed sun.
But after that, she felt a boundless, warm vigor flow through her, from
head to foot. All at once she became so happy, so secure, so thankful
for everything, to everybody, that she would have leaped out of the gig
into the arms of anybody whatsoever--only to give thanks, because she
was so happy, so overwhelmingly happy. She thought she owed all the
world so much.
For a presentiment of a great, great boon in store for her came over
her; she leaned back as well as she could in the humped-up gig and gave
herself up to dreaming.
But it was not the old dreams about the bride and carriages. It was a
new dream; great, wonderful, formless, almost dreadful.
Elsie stole a chance to open a couple of buttons in her dress to get at
her bodice; it was really too tight.
When they arrived, it was Loppen who felt like telling Madam to hold
her tongue, so deep was she in her dreams and so painful was it to be
torn out of them.
The foreman’s house lay a little away from the other buildings of the
brick-works; and while Madam went in to see her patient, Elsie looked
about through the long building, with shelves instead of walls.
Still half in her dream, she walked and looked at all the wonderful
things, and everything to-day made a peculiar, unreal impression upon
her.
She paid no attention to the workmen, who moved about her, grimy and
besmeared with clay; but she was a long time standing and watching the
big water-wheel, which drove the clay mills. At the back side of the
wheel, as the buckets went over, hundreds and thousands of minute drops
of water sprang off; they leaped up in arches, and fell in little,
pearly stars, which glittered against the dark wheel as it turned
around.
It was cool and refreshing below the water-wheel, and the regular beat
of the buckets as they splashed around, and the bright pearls of water
dancing before her eyes, ensnared her into new dreams, until some one
cried out to her. She stood directly in the way of a giant, who came
groaning in from the clay-bank with a heavy load for the tile mills.
Elsie walked in through the long passage-ways where building brick
stood piled in rows like psalm-books--high over her head and far, far
ahead of her, clear to the end of the passage, where she saw some very
little people moving about out in the sunshine.
Through the roof where there were broken tiles, a sunbeam broke here
and there, and drew a long, glowing streak aslant down through the
air, and fixed a round sun-spot on the floor.
The sparrows which had had their nests up there, still maintained a
sinful life, with battles and bickerings. From the passage near by,
came the rapid beating of the paddles which made the bricks smooth
before they dried; far in the distance a lusty young fellow was
singing a mournful love ditty as he worked; and through it all the big
water-wheel went on splashing, patiently and monotonously, and drove
the mills so they creaked.
Elsie heard voices and turned curiously into a side passage; there were
three young boys shaping brick. Her eyes at once fixed themselves on
the one who stood at the moulding-table and pressed the brick into the
moulds.
He might have been nineteen or twenty years old, with coal-black hair,
a little curly about the ears, eye-brows large and rather heavy; but
when he now glanced up from his work he fixed a pair of dark, almost
black eyes on Elsie.
She looked away and colored. Never in her life, thought she, had she
seen anything so handsome. He had a little, dark down under the nose;
else the mouth could as well have been a girl’s mouth, so red and
tender was it.
Elsie at once thought it was the mouth she had dreamed about all day.
She went a step beyond the passage; but turned and drew near again on
tip-toe. Then she heard some one in the side passage saying:
“By George, you must know her, Svend! She blushed so when she saw you.”
Svend smiled; she could just see his mouth through the piles of brick.
Then he wiped his forehead with his bare arms, and so besmeared himself
worse with clay, and said:
“That was a deuce of a pretty woman.”
Loppen thought that was neatly spoken beyond comparison, and she felt
proud and flattered. Softly she stole away to enjoy her triumph in
solitude.
Very soon, however, she had to go back again; but just then the
dinner-bell rang. The laborers streamed out of the alleys and down to
the sea to wash a little before dinner; and a little boy came to call
Elsie. She was to dine with Madam at the foreman’s house.
In the afternoon, Madam had a few calls to make at the neighboring
farms and Elsie was to go along. But she seemed so inattentive and
clumsy that Madam Speckbom lost all patience and said she had better go
where she pleased.
Loppen laughed, and ran down to the brick-works again. It was almost
four o’clock. As soon as Svend caught sight of her, he declared that
he would stop for that day. The others wished him to go on until the
usual tale was reached; but he threw down the mould and went away to
dress himself.
His fellows growled, but let him have his way; they knew that he
could be just as obstinate at times as he was usually good-humored;
and, besides, there was wild blood in Svend; that is, he was from the
gypsies and they are dangerous to cross.
When a little later, he presented himself before Elsie in a clean
collar, a blue suit, and round hat, she scarcely recognized him. She
was altogether taken with his charms. However, she soon noticed that he
was more awkward and rustic than she had supposed, and it was not many
minutes before she felt quite superior.
After she had asked him about different things, he offered to show her
about the factory. And then, he all at once regained his speech; yes,
he even laughed at her once or twice when she was too dumb.
They now walked through the long passages together, while he explained
to her everything they saw; he took her clear up on the furnace, where
she could peep down on the glowing brick which were being fired.
All this was pleasant to Loppen, just as everything that day was
pleasant. Only to walk at his side and hear him talk was a pleasure;
and that she did not understand half that he was explaining, that was
just in line with this wonderful day with all its new impressions and
new dreams.
But Elsie was sent for once more. Madam Speckbom was through and was
ready to go to town. There was no other way than to comply. Loppen
dragged herself up to the foreman’s house where Madam was already
seated in the gig.
“Come on, Elsie,” she cried impatiently. “It is almost seven o’clock.
We must be home by dark.”
Loppen took courage; “May I not walk to town? it is such lovely
weather.”
Madam Speckbom looked at Svend and smiled.
“Aha! you have good company, sure enough, I must say. Well, well! Suit
yourself then, Elsie; but don’t be too late coming home;”--with that
Madam drove off.
She was a very liberal lady, Madam Speckbom, and she saw nothing wrong
in the young people being out together in the delightful evening;
besides she thought well of Svend’s face.
The two young people walked slowly toward the sea, while Madam took the
direct road to town. Loppen was happy over her fortune; but when she
a little coquettishly asked Svend if he would accompany her to town,
that bungler answered: “Of course I will.”
Loppen felt a little exasperated at that; she was used to gallant
cavaliers. But he regained all her favor by climbing the hedge into the
bellman’s garden, and stealing a rose for her from a bush which could
not be seen from the house.
It was only a simple, pale red garden rose which was left hanging still
after the real flowering. But it had the fragrance still--the fragrance
of roses which belonged to her dreams.
And while she walked along by his side in the fragrance, she felt again
that overwhelming desire to give thanks, to share with some one her
good fortune. She could have thrown herself about his neck, have kissed
him, have committed the most incredible follies; but he walked a little
apart from her, and looked so cold and serious that she was ashamed of
herself.
Yet he was even then walking along, tormenting himself with the same
matter. He was so dreadfully anxious that they should sit down on the
heather and talk with each other; but he was careful not to propose it.
There had been a slight breeze at noon; but at evening it was again
motionless. The fjord lay smooth as glass, with bright circles where a
bird had just dipped, or with long, waving lines behind a fisher-boat
which was going out on the sound to catch cod.
There was not a chirrup from the birds; there was not the least sound
from anything; but a mellow, wooing silence in which one might hide
himself, to whisper something to some one which no one must hear.
For Elsie felt again as if her bosom would burst out. She walked along,
bending over her rose.
And as they walked along in this way, little by little they came closer
to each other; and at last they came as close to each other as they
could; they no longer talked, but drew quick breaths; she stumbled and
took him by the arm; he clasped her hand to him and thus they went a
few steps without conscious thought.
But a carriage came rapidly down over the hill behind them. The
coachman cried out to them and they sprang one to each side.
It was Consul With, who was returning from his brick-works. When he
caught sight of Elsie, he had the carriage stop, leaped out and took
her by the hand.
“Good evening, little miss; you are going to town, are you not? Come
and ride with me.”
Elsie would have made excuses; but he fairly lifted her into the
carriage. She at once recognized the rich, distinguished Consul With,
and was partly too abashed to oppose him; and perhaps it partly arose
before her what a high honor it was to ride in his carriage.
But as they bowled away, she became frightened completely. She caught
but a glimpse of Svend, who stood astounded by the roadside; then the
carriage ran down from a second hill and he was out of sight.
Besides she had enough to handle in the Consul, who put his arm about
her waist and tried to kiss her on the neck.
Loppen was used to such things, and to keeping men away from her. But
it was another affair altogether, now. She could not cuff Consul With,
whom all the town saluted and who was so elegant.
Besides he was so old--thought she; and finally she was so possessed
and strangely unnerved by this long day with the many new things; it
all blended together before her; she did not clearly realize who it
was she was sitting with in the dark carriage; all the time she was
thinking of Svend, and was so confused that she felt so very, very
fortunate and tired.
In summer Consul With lived in a villa down by the fjord. He had the
coachman drive into the enclosure; but alit with Elsie at the garden
gate. She did not wish to go in with him; but he seized her by the hand.
“Oh! my rose!” cried Elsie; he had broken off all its petals.
“Only come along, and you shall have all the roses you want,” he
whispered and drew her with him.
It was quite dark in the narrow walk between the bushes, where he let
her go before him.
She begged him to let her go home--half deferentially yet, but he
answered only in jest.
Close to the house stood some rare, yellow roses; the Consul looked up
at the windows, then stole up to them, and cut them all off with his
pen-knife.
Elsie had her hands full; she had to thank him indeed; they were so
lovely there in the dusk; and they had a peculiar, fine perfume which
she had never smelled; they were roses and yet they were not her roses.
But when he opened a small door at the rear of the house, it ran
through her that that was for no good purpose. She tried to flee; but
he seized her nimbly about the waist, drew her inside, and closed the
door.