Look Back on Happiness Part 40

Indoors I heard a sound of sobbing; Fru Ingeborg was in a state of collapse in a chair. And in her condition, too!

Well, give it time--it will pa.s.s off. Gradually we begin to talk, and by asking her questions, I force her to collect herself.

"He--that man--that beast--oh, you don't know how dreadful he is--I could murder him. He was the one--he was the first, but now he's getting it all back, he's getting more than his own back--you'll see. He was the first; I was all right till then, but he was the first. Not that it meant a great deal to me; I don't want to seem any better than I am--it was all the same to me. But afterward I began to understand. And it drew so much evil in its train, I fell so low; I was on my knees. It was his fault. And afterward it all grew clear to me. I want that man to leave me alone; I don't ever want to see him again. That's not unreasonable, is it?--Oh, where's Nikolai? You don't think he'll do anything to him, do you? They'll put him in prison. Please, run after them, stop him! He'll kill him--"

"No, no. He has too much sense. Besides, he doesn't know, does he, that Solem has done anything to you?"

She looked up at me then.

"Are you asking on your own account?"

"What do you mean?--I don't understand--"

"I want to know if you're asking on your own account! Sometimes you seem as though you were trying to find me out. _No_, I _haven't_ told my husband. You can think what you please about my honesty. I've only told him part of it, just a little--that the man wouldn't leave me alone. He's been here once before; he was the man Petra wanted to admit that I wouldn't have in. I said to Nikolai, 'I won't have that man coming in here!' And I told him a little more. But I didn't tell him about myself; so now what do you think of my honesty? But I don't want to tell him now either; I don't ever want to tell him. Why? Well, I don't owe you any explanation. But I don't mind your knowing--yes, I want to tell you, please! You see, it's not because I'm afraid of Nikolai's anger, but of his forgiveness--I couldn't bear to go on living as though nothing had happened. I'm sure he'd try to find excuses for me, because that's his nature; he's fond of me, and he's a peasant, too, and peasants don't take these things so seriously. But if he did find excuses for me, he wouldn't be much good, and I don't want him to be no good; I swear I don't--I'd rather be no good myself! Oh, we both have faults to forgive in each other, but we need all of what's left. We don't want to be animals; we want to be human beings, and I'm thinking of the future and our children.... But you oughtn't to make me talk so much. Why did you ask me that?"

"All I meant was that if Nikolai doesn't know, then it couldn't occur to him to kill the man, and that was what you were worried about. I just wanted to rea.s.sure you."

"Yes, you're always so clever; you turn me inside out. I wish now I hadn't told you--I wish you didn't know; I should have kept it to myself till I died. Now you just think I'm thoroughly dishonest."

"On the contrary."

"Really? Don't you think that?"

"Quite the contrary. What you've told me is absolutely right, entirely true and right. And not only that--it's fine."

"G.o.d bless you," she said, and began to sob again.

"There now, you mustn't cry. Here comes Nikolai walking up the road as good and placid as ever."

"Is he? Oh, thank G.o.d. You know, I haven't really any fault to find with him; I was too hasty when I said that. Even if I tried to find something, I couldn't. Of course he uses expressions sometimes--I mean he says some words differently, but it was only his sister that put that into my head.

I must go out and meet him now."

She began to look around for something to slip over her shoulders, but it took her a few minutes because she was still quite shaken. Before she had found anything, Nikolai trudged into the yard.

"Oh, there you are! You haven't done anything rash, have you?"

Nikolai's features were still a little drawn as he replied:

"No, I just took him over to see his son."

"Has Solem got a son here?" I asked.

Neither of them replied. Nikolai turned to go back to his work, and his wife went with him across the field.

Suddenly I understood: Sophie's child.

How well I remember that day at Tore Peak, when Schoolmistress Sophie Palm came in to tell us the latest news about Solem, about the bandage on his finger, the finger he never had time to get rid of--stout fellow! They made each other's acquaintance then, and probably met again later in the town. Solem was everywhere.

The ladies at the Tore Peak resort--well, Solem was no angel, but they did little to improve him. And so he met this woman who had learned nothing but to teach....

I ought to have understood before this. I don't understand anything any more.

But something has happened to me now.

At last I'm beginning to suspect that their chief reason for wanting to keep me here is simply that they need money; my board and rent are to pay for the mare. That's all it amounts to.

I should have known it long ago, but I am old. Perhaps I may add without being misunderstood that the brain withers before the heart. You can see it in all grandparents.

At first I said "Bravo!" to my discovery, "Bravo! Fru Ingeborg," I said, "you are priceless once again!" But human nature is such that I began to feel hurt. How much better it would be to pay for the mare once and for all and depart; I should have been more than pleased to do so. But I should not have succeeded. Nikolai would have shaken his head as though it were a fairy tale. Then I began to calculate that in fact there couldn't be much to pay for the mare now--perhaps nothing, perhaps she was paid for....

Fru Ingeborg labors and slaves--I'm afraid she works too hard. She seldom sits down, though her pregnancy is far advanced now and she needs rest.

She makes beds, cooks, sees to the animals, sews, mends, and washes. Often a lock of gray hair falls down on either side of her face, and she is so busy that she lets it hang; it's too short to be fastened back with a pin.

But she looks charming and motherly, with her fine skin and her well-shaped mouth; she and the child together are sheer beauty. Of course I help to carry wood and water, but I make more work for her just the same. When I think of that, I grow hot about the ears.

But how could I have imagined that anyone would want to keep me for my own sake? I should not have had all these years too many then, and these ardors too few. A good thing I've found it out at last.

In a way the discovery made it easier for me to leave them, and this--time when I packed my knapsack, I meant it. But at least the child, her boy, had some love for me, and liked to sit on my arm because I showed him so much that was strange. It was the child's instinct for the peerless grandfather.

At about this time, a sister of Fru Ingeborg's came to the farm to help with the housework. I began to pack then; overcome with grief, I packed.

To spare Nikolai and the mare, I decided to make my way down to the steamship landing on foot. I shall also arrange to relieve all of us of the need for farewells and handshakes and _au revoirs_, believe me!

But in spite of my resolution, I could not, after all, avoid taking them both by the hand and thanking them for their hospitality. That was all that was necessary. I stood in the doorway with my knapsack already on my back, smiling a little, and behaving splendidly.

"Yes, indeed," I said, "I must begin to move about again."

"Are you really going?" said Fru Ingeborg.

"Why not?"

"But so suddenly?"

"Didn't I tell you yesterday?"

"Yes, of course, but--would you like Nikolai to drive you?"

"No, thank you."

The boy was interested now, for I had a knapsack on my back and a coat with entirely unfamiliar b.u.t.tons; he wanted me to carry him. Very well, then--just for a moment. But it was for more than a moment, more than a few moments, too. The knapsack had to be opened and investigated, of course. Then Nikolai entered the room.

Fru Ingeborg said to me:

"I'm afraid you think that just because my sister's here now--but we've got another room. And besides, now that it's summer, she could easily sleep in the loft."

"But, my dear child, I must leave _some_ time--I have work to do, too, you know."

"Well, of course," said Fru Ingeborg, giving it up.