Pan Part 17

"What is more, Eva has been here."

"Has she been here? In the hut?"

"More than once. I made her go in. We talked together."

"Here too?"

Pause. "Be firm!" I said to myself; and then, aloud:

"Since you are so kind as to mix yourself up in my affairs, I will not be behindhand. I suggested yesterday that you should take the Doctor; have you thought it over? For really, you know, the prince is simply impossible."

Her eyes lit with anger. "He is not, I tell you," she cried pa.s.sionately. "No, he is better than you; he can move about in a house without breaking cups and gla.s.ses; he leaves my shoes alone. Yes! He knows how to move in society; but you are ridiculous--I am ashamed of you--you are unendurable--do you understand that?"

Her words struck deep; I bowed my head and said:

"You are right; I am not good at moving in society. Be merciful. You do not understand me; I live in the woods by choice--that is my happiness.

Here, where I am all alone, it can hurt no one that I am as I am; but when I go among others, I have to use all my will power to be as I should. For two years now I have been so little among people at all..."

"There's no saying what mad thing you will do next," she went on. "And it is intolerable to be constantly looking after you."

How mercilessly she said it! A very bitter pain pa.s.sed through me. I almost toppled before her violence. Edwarda had not yet done; she went on:

"You might get Eva to look after you, perhaps. It's a pity though, that she's married."

"Eva! Eva married, did you say?"

"Yes, married!"

"Why, who is her husband?"

"Surely you know that. She is the blacksmith's wife."

"I thought she was his daughter."

"No, she is his wife. Do you think I am lying to you?"

I had not thought about it at all; I was simply astonished. I just stood there thinking: Is Eva married?

"So you have made a happy choice," says Edwarda.

Well, there seemed no end to the business. I was trembling with indignation, and I said:

"But you had better take the Doctor, as I said. Take a friend's advice; that prince of yours is an old fool." And in my excitement I lied about him, exaggerated his age, declared he was bald, that he was almost totally blind; I a.s.serted, moreover, that he wore that coronet thing in his shirt front wholly and solely to show off his n.o.bility. "As for me, I have not cared to make his acquaintance, there is nothing in him of mark at all; he lacks the first principles; he is nothing."

"But he is something, he is something," she cried, and her voice broke with anger. "He is far more than you think, you thing of the woods. You wait. Oh, he shall talk to you--I will ask him myself. You don't believe I love him, but you shall see you are mistaken. I will marry him; I will think of him night and day. Mark what I say: I love him. Let Eva come if she likes--hahaha! Heavens, let her come--it is less than nothing to me.

And now let me get away from here..."

She began walking down the path from the hut; she took a few small hurried steps, turned round, her face still pale as death, and moaned: "And let me never see your face again."

XXIII

Leaves were yellowing; the potato-plants had grown to full height and stood in flower; the shooting season came round again; I shot hare and ptarmigan and grouse; one day I shot an eagle. Calm, open sky, cool nights, many clear, clear tones and dear sounds in the woods and fields.

The earth was resting, vast and peaceful...

"I have not heard anything from Herr Mack about the two guillemots I shot," I said to the Doctor.

"You can thank Edwarda for that," he said. "I know. I heard that she set herself against it."

"I do not thank her for it," said I...

Indian summer--Indian summer. The stars lay like belts in through the yellowing woods; a new star came every day. The moon showed like a shadow; a shadow of gold dipped in silver...

"Heaven help you, Eva, are you married?"

"Didn't you know that?"

"No, I didn't know."

She pressed my hand silently.

"G.o.d help you, child, what are we to do now?" "What _you_ will. Perhaps you are not going away just yet; I will be happy as long as you are here."

"No, Eva."

"Yes, yes--only as long as you are here."

She looked forsaken, kept pressing my hand.

"No, Eva. Go--never any more!"

Nights pa.s.s and days come--three days already since this last talk. Eva comes by with a load. How much wood has that child carried home from the forest this summer alone?

"Set the load down, Eva, and let me see if your eyes are as blue as ever."

Her eyes were red.

"No--smile again, Eva! I can resist no more; I am your, I am yours..."

Evening. Eva sings, I hear her singing, and a warmth goes through me.

"You are singing this evening, child?"

"Yes, I am happy."