The day before Christmas was a busy day for the whole town, and not
least busy for the kind ladies who were distributing goods to the poor.
Miss Falbe was usually not so deeply interested at Christmas; for, odd
and singular as she was in everything, she used to keep the little she
had, until after Christmas. But yet to-day she was in a hurry from
early morning.
She searched the town up and down, for she had made up her mind to find
Elsie.
It was over a month since she had seen her; but to-day, when everybody
was happy and enjoying themselves, she could not get poor Elsie out of
her head; and she hunted high and low for her in all the crannies and
hovels of the poor.
Late in the afternoon, when she had almost given it up, she suddenly
met Elsie at a street corner.
Miss Falbe had often seen how quickly beauty, youth and grace fall from
those who follow Loppen’s path; but never before had she seen such a
change.
But she was not the woman to be frightened off. With a tight grasp she
seized Loppen by the arm, when she tried to run, and said quietly, as
if nothing was the matter:
“Good evening, Elsie! It is nice that I met you. Won’t you come and eat
Christmas porridge with us this evening?”
Loppen looked up. For a moment there was a blaze of defiance and
impudence in the big, bright eyes; but all at once she broke down, and
walked a few steps sobbing, while she leaned on Miss Falbe.
Elsie wore a brown shawl, and had nothing upon her head. She had grown
thin and pale in the face, and as she walked along, bowed and weeping,
her neck was so rough and scrawny, that no one would have suspected
that she had not yet completed her twentieth year. There was nothing
left of her but her eyes, the big, bright eyes which were all the
larger now that her face had lost its roundness.
She could make no response; she did not even try to do so, and Miss
Falbe proceeded without waiting for an answer:
“I told Christian when I came out that I should bring you home with me
if I met you. I shall go home at six; I am only going down to the mill
to see a sick woman. Then we will drink our tea, and eat our porridge
together. You can just as well sleep there, too; I will arrange the
lounge for you in the sitting-room.”
Elsie pressed her hand. They stood behind high stone steps where it was
quite dark, and Miss Falbe took her about the waist.
“You must promise me sure that you will come, Elsie.”
“Yes, miss, I will come,” answered Elsie firmly, and looked up.
“Thank you; now you are a good girl,” cried Miss Falbe joyfully, “now
you must start over there. It is past five o’clock; I hear the bells
ringing at the churches, so I will be there soon after you. Christian
is at home; it is nice and warm there; tell him I will be there right
away.”
With that she hurried away. She was so happy that she almost ran.
But Loppen walked slowly toward the town, while she kept in the shadow
as much as possible. To reach the Ark she had first to pass through the
more aristocratic quarter, where the gaslights were more frequent, and
where also the shops lit up what they could of an evening.
So she made a circuit through the park, and went right by the church.
One of the side doors stood open; she had a strange longing, slipped in
and sat down on a bench by one of the huge pillars.
At first she was half deafened by the loud clangor of the bells which
were ringing in the tower. But when she had grown accustomed to the
sound, it seemed as if she rested upon it and swung to and fro beneath
the lofty arches.
There by the pulpit a couple of scrub-women were kneeling; they had
a lamp on the floor which they moved about with them, and up in the
choir was a lantern which the men, who were repairing the heating
apparatus, had set down.
Loppen had not been in the church for a long time, and it touched her
wonderfully to see the holy place again in the uncertain twilight, and
amid this festive clangor of the chiming bells.
Until an hour ago, she had not had a single thought but to get herself
something to eat, or still better, something to drink; for she had been
starving for several weeks, as they starve who eat a little bread or
salt fish if opportunity offers, and otherwise keep life in themselves
with ale and brandy.
To-day she had tasted neither food nor drink, but that was all
forgotten now; it had been forgotten, in fact, from the very first word
Miss Falbe said.
That there was still granted one person who would talk to her like that!
A light had come into the night of degradation in which she had so long
been roving about; thoughts of her better days, which she had dreaded
and driven away with drink, came again without paining her. She could
really sit there in the gloomy church and think of her little chamber
at Madam Speckbom’s. For Miss Falbe had smoothed away the worst of her
shame; she felt as if she had been cleansed from head to foot, and
through it all she rejoiced on account of the porridge.
But the bells which had for a time been chiming softly, and as if far
aloft, joined now in a great, strong peal which so filled the church
that her ears rang with it. One of the scrub-women moved her light at
the same moment, so that all the relieved heads on the pulpit stood out.
Elsie stared upon them and her eyes followed the dim light into all the
corners of the church, up over the high arches where new heads gleamed
out from among sculptured stone flowers and leaf-tracery.
And at last the mighty tones of the bells seemed to her, to be
streaming out from the pulpit thus lit up--quite as when she sat
shivering by Madam Speckbom’s side, while the priest thundered against
sinners and shook the hard words about hell and judgment over her head.
And now all those hard words had hidden themselves here and there among
the stone flowers, and thrust their heads out to see if she was there.
A man arose from a trap door in the choir floor, took up the lantern
and came toward her. Upon the white wall his shadow moved like a long,
black demon who was coming to seize her. She watched him draw near; the
anguish palsied her; she could not rise from her seat; she was bound
tight; she was locked in--she was locked into the church alone; and
there he came--the light swung, the bells roared right in her ears;
half crazed, she leaped up with a scream and ran; he was close at
her heels! A thousand heads and fingers of scorn pointed after her!
There she is, there--there, she threw herself against the door; it was
open--she was out--she was saved, she thought; saved from the very
claws of the evil one.
By common consent, it was genuine Christmas weather; starlit and clear
at night, and just cold enough to be comfortable in furs.
Elsie hurried off to the Ark. There was a light up at Falbe’s; but she
had not yet overcome her fright at the church, and did not dare to go
up just then.
Instead, she stole into Madam Speckbom’s court-yard, where she was so
much at home. A candle stood lighted upon the kitchen table. Loppen
peeped in, but no one was there. She felt an uncontrollable longing to
go in; it looked as if Madam and the servant girl were both out. She
had long ago known how to lift the latch in a way of her own, so that
it made no noise.
All was as of old; she recognized every article and odor in the
kitchen. There stood a plate of bread and butter on the table. Loppen
was prodigiously hungry, but she did not touch it; she would soon get
something to eat in an honorable way.
But so as not to be tempted, she cautiously opened the door to the
drawing-room; no one was there, either.
The gas-light out on the corner stood just in front of one of the
windows, so it was always light in the room in winter; and lying on
the table Elsie saw three or four big bundles. Loppen was so familiar
with customs of the household that she knew they were clothing and food
which Madam Speckbom intended to distribute to the poor in her charge,
Christmas eve.
While half from curiosity, half from absent-mindedness, she was feeling
of each bundle, she happened to throw something down upon the floor.
She picked it up and examined it in the gas-light. Elsie recognized
the soft, little thing; it was her own baby hat--the little, brown hat
with the rose-red band, which was made from the indestructible “Loppen”
cloak.
She could not recall the time when she wore the hat; but many a time
had she seen it in Madam Speckbom’s drawer, and every time Madam had
said that she should have it for her first baby.
Then she must be entirely given up now; her hat, the only thing she
owned on earth, was to be given to some one else.
She pressed the hat to her face; but when she smelled the well-known
perfume of Madam Speckbom’s bureau, she burst into tears.
For a moment she stood in this way and cried over her baby hat, while
her spirits sank and sank, until she heard some one in the hall; then
she thrust the hat into her pocket and stole out the way she had come.
It must be past six; Miss Falbe must surely be waiting. Lappen forced
herself to go in at the street entrance and up the stairs. But at the
Falbes’ door she stopped and listened. Christian was walking up and
down, as was his wont; through the keyhole she could only see his
shadow, which came and went upon the wall. It was plain that Miss Falbe
had not come home yet.
Loppen felt that it was impossible for her to go in while he was alone;
she had rather wait without until Miss Falbe came.
But once she thought he was coming to the door; she flew in a fright
a few steps up the attic stairs; and while she was standing there and
listening, she heard from above tones which she had never heard before.
It was neither the drum nor the flute nor the piano; but long, moaning
tones, tender and mysterious, as if they knew all her misery and had
come to comfort her.
When she cautiously opened the door to Schirrmeister’s room, she saw
the old musician standing erect before the lamp. He was playing the
violin.
The light fell fair upon his little wrinkled face; but the humid,
drunken eyes had a singular expression, and with an appropriate bow he
saluted Elsie.
He had straightened his old back, and while his arm carried the bow
with the precise elegance of former days, he bowed his little head,
bald as a radish, listeningly over the violin.
It had been a year and a day since he had played the instrument of
his youth. But this evening something so wonderful had come over him;
he got his violin out and in some way mended the strings, and now he
was playing his youth, his dreams, his puny triumphs, and his great
overthrow.
He played a few chords and at last Spohr’s “Adagio” which had gained
for him the master’s approval and he played without stumbling a single
time--clearly and correctly as the master would have had it.
The starving note copyist and the drunken musician, he was no longer.
With head thrown back, eyes wide open, he stood there in the light of
the sooty oil-lamp and played the garret room into a vaulted salon
with hundreds of lamps and rows of breathlessly attentive ladies and
gentlemen. His wretchedness fell from him and the artist stood forth
once more; and the half-extinguished spark in his soul broke out into a
noble flame as if music had forgiven him--music whom he had loved and
betrayed; and at last came the great master, laid his hand upon his
head and said: “He will go high in it.”
With the instrument under his arm and with down-cast bow, Anton
Schirrmeister bowed himself out into the room. Then he hastily laid the
violin away in its case, closed the cover upon it, and threw himself
into a chair with his hands over his eyes. But when a little later he
looked up, Elsie was sitting just in front of him, on a chest by the
door. She too, was holding her hands over her eyes.
And the old wreck looked at the young wreck and shook his head.
Something was heard shuffling up the stairs and out into the garret as
if a number of people were trying to walk softly. Puppelena peered in
and then she stepped aside to make room for the others.
It was the whole “gang.” She had collected them here and there. They
were following her in the hope that she had something for them; so they
were in a merry humor.
Loppen tried to steal away, but one of them took hold of her. It was
Svend.
They had not seen each other for several weeks; and when they parted
they were at outs. But in the mood Elsie was in, she was touched to
see him--even as ugly and disreputable as he was.
Svend noticed this and sat down beside her on the chest, to lament and
whine and promise to do better and everything good if she would only
stay with him again.
Elsie remained sitting and listening half abstractedly to the
well-known voice and the well-known promises. But all at once there was
a tumult over at the table; the tinker arose and swore and everybody
looked at Puppelena more or less angrily--as he dared.
In short, it was so far from her having anything to banquet on, that on
the contrary, she had hunted them up to get something to keep Christmas
with--indeed, she had shared with them often enough.
She turned her big, heavy face around toward the men and said
contemptuously:
“It’s brave fellows you are! Not so much as a bottle of ale for blessed
Christmas! Fie, for shame!”
They were non-plussed. The tinker muttered something about the hard
times, Jorgen Tambur looked up at the ceiling, and even Olkonomen let
his underlip hang idly; in so serious a situation he did not dare to
mention the message he had just sent.
Only the man with the many faces retained his smile. He sat close
beside Puppelena and chewed raisins and nuts and threw the shells
across the table.
Elsie knew him better now than when he frightened her with his
grimaces. In many places, she had caught sight of him; he came and
disappeared and no one seemed to notice him. But she knew that he had
escaped from the prison at Akershus, and that he had staid out now for
more than two years without the police being able to find him. They
called him the mechanic because he was so expert at picking locks.
He now said to Puppelena, with a familiar nod:
“Yes, you are right there. People who have two strong arms, and eyes to
see with, and yet can’t get what they want on such a day--such folks I
wouldn’t give much for.”
“What have you, then?” demanded the tinker.
“Oh, I don’t usually carry much with me,” answered the mechanic
indifferently. “But at any rate, I am full; and now I am doing like the
aristocrats--eating dessert after the meal.”
With this he tossed a handful of raisins and nuts carelessly across the
table. A young fellow who had lately joined “the gang,” was gallant
enough to pass a few to Loppen, who sat apart on the chest by the door.
The sweet taste excited her, hungry as she was. She leaned forward to
see if there were not more. But the others had taken them; there were,
in fact, only two or three apiece; just enough so each would get the
taste in his mouth.
The tinker muttered something about not everybody being versed in
mechanics.
“There’s no need of it, either,” answered the other, while he deftly
landed a bunch of raisins in Elsie’s lap. “Where I came from, you could
go in and out with a coffee-sack on your back.”
All eyes turned now to the mechanic; and all were afire to know where
that was. But they knew, too, that he was a dangerous man to be with
and walked in dangerous paths, so no one dared be the first to open
fire.
“Where was that?” was asked at once.
It was Loppen. She did not mean anything by it; it was only curiosity;
the raisins were so sweet and it was so long since such things had been
tendered to her.
The man of the many faces who had hitherto let his eyes run from one to
the other, now addressed himself more to Elsie, while he now and then
tossed a few raisins or nuts over to her, or across the table. They
were seized in a trice by anxious hands; all had conceived a desire for
more of the sweets which irritated without sating.
“Do you want to know where it is?” said the mechanic gaily. “Well,
that don’t cost anything, my child. It is down in the corner just in
front of Consul With’s house at Ellingsen and Larsen’s. The whole
store is jammed full of people who buy like mad. That they do not eat
themselves to death--the rich, on such a night, I can’t understand.
There is sugar and syrup and butter and rice--such a world of rice--and
fine Danish butter and cheese--golden, fat cheese which glistens when
you cut into it.”
All leaned toward him and glared as if they would eat his words, and
Loppen drew close to him. Her mouth watered at the corners and she
thought she could smell that golden, fat cheese which glistened when
they cut into it.
“And there are smoked sausages and hams and ale and wine--hundreds
of bottles of sweet, strong wine; and there you can get as much of
anything as you like if you only----have the cash.”
“Oh, the deuce!” exclaimed the tinker at the last words, and there was
a general growl of dissatisfaction and displeasure; but the mechanic
pretended not to notice anything and proceeded smiling and confidently,
while his quick eyes glanced from one to the other and, as it were,
fastened one word here and another there.
“But when you have no money, of course you don’t go into the store;
what business have you there? There is another way which is much
easier; it is but to push in, for there’s not a person there. But they
have been so kind as to put a light down there so you can see what you
want.”
“Where? Where?” was demanded impatiently. This time it was Svend whose
dark gypsy eyes were aglow with excitement.
“You know the alley back of Madam Ellingsen’s house; there is no
gas-light except on the corner by the bank; at the bend is the door to
the cellar beneath the store.”
“Is it open?” asked the tinker.
“It certainly must be, for I only picked the lock a little and the door
flew open of itself,” responded the mechanic jestingly and made a few
rapid gestures with his hands.
They stared at him with astonishment and Olkonomen whispered
encouragingly to Jorgen Tambur:
“Then there can be no talk about burglary.”
“But down there in the cellar, believe me, there’s enough and to spare.
There stand rows of sugar-loaves; hams and sausages hang there by the
dozen; and sacks of coffee which can hardly be raised from the floor.
But when you cut a hole in the sack and let some run out, then its
only a fair load. And up in the store there’s such a hubbub that they
wouldn’t hear if we yelled ‘hurrah’ down there; and the lamp stands on
the top step of the cellar stairs because the boy now and then comes
down to get something. There’s lots of wine too. I brought a sample
with me; its too sweet for me--taste it!” He held the bottle out to
Elsie.
She took a swallow, but he stopped her; they must each have a little
taste of the sweet, strong liquor; but when the flask had gone around,
Elsie emptied the last drop.
It rushed through her head like fire; the strong taste inflamed her
appetite; she licked her lips and looked at the others and her raging
hunger began to affect them. A feverish uneasiness came over them; the
young fellow put his cap on to show that he was ready, and at last
Svend said half to himself:
“If any one who is well acquainted, would show us the way----”
The mechanic exchanged a hasty glance with Puppelena.
“If anything’s to be done in good shape, there must be a number at it,”
he said half aloud and looked all the time at Elsie.
“We’re with you,” she cried eagerly and drew Svend forward.
“Yes--there’s no parley about it; we’re all along if the mechanic will
take the lead,” said the tinker then decisively, and arose.
The man of the many faces was now altogether another man. With a few
direct words he gave each man his instructions. Olkonomen, Jorgen
Tambur and the young fellow were only to stand guard on the streets;
the same, too, he wanted Elsie to do, but Puppelena thought that
Elsie’s shawl would be good to carry things under.
So it was decided that she should meet with the others at the turn
farthest down the alley as soon as possible while business was yet
lively up in the shop.
One by one they stole away by different roads; Svend and Elsie went
together.
When they went past Miss Falbe’s door, she pressed in between him and
the wall. She had no pangs of conscience, only a burning dread of being
checked. The air she had breathed among these people, the strong drink
she had had a taste of, had with one blow awakened her wild defiance
and transformed her into a greedy and voracious beast which amid foes
and perils has to go out to steal. As noiselessly and quickly as a cat
she drew Svend with her through the darkest shadows.
Old Schirrmeister sat alone once more in his imbecility and chewed away
on an almond shell.