双语·老屋子 第五章

Chapter 5

Fru Adelheid was icy cold and had drawn her chair as near the chimney as she could.

It blazed and fared in there; the red glow scorched her face and her white gown. But she kept on adding logs to the fre and could not get warm.

Cordt sat in the other chair reading, with his book on his knees and his head leaning on his hands. The book was a large one, with yellow pages and old-fashioned characters.

Fru Adelheid looked at him despondently. She regretted that she had come up to the room and would have gone away, had she had the strength to. She sighed and looked into the fre with tired eyes.

“Adelheid…listen.”

He pushed his hair with both hands from his forehead and read:

But, when the tidings came to Queen Thyre that Olav Trygvasson was dead, she fell into a swoon and lay thus for long. And, when, at the last, she came to herself again, she was so sorrowful that it was pity for those of her house to behold. When the day was over, she went to a monk who dwelled near by and was known in all that land for a holy man. Him she asked if folk who died by their own hands sinned against God's law; since her lord and husband was dead and she had no more liking for life. But the monk answered and said:

“Indeed it is a sin. For God has given us life and will take it back again when He thinks right.”

Then the queen wept, because she must sin so grievously. But, early the next morning, she came again and asked the holy man how little one was allowed to eat without angering God. And the monk took pity on her and said:

“If you eat an apple every day, that will be enough.”

Then Queen Thyre lay down on her couch and bade all her handmaidens leave her, so that she might be alone with her dule and sorrow, bidding them that one of her maidens, whom she best loved, was to bring her each morning an apple in the golden cup from which she was wont to take her morning draught. And so it fell that, when the maiden came on the morning of the ninth day with the apple in the golden cup, the queen was in Heaven with her husband.

He closed the book; his lips moved as though he were repeating the words to himself. Fru Adelheid looked thoughtfully into the fre. Then she said:

“It was all very well for those old, dead people. They always had a holy man to whom they could go in their distress.”

But Cordt shook his head.

“You distort the chronicle, Adelheid,”he said.“It was not at all like that. The queen wanted to die and she died. She went to themonk to be released from sin and piously subjected herself to his command.”

“They had God, in those days,”said Fru Adelheid.

“Yes, they had. The old, strong God held them in His hands.”

He rose quickly and stood by the chimney.

“Do you believe in God, Cordt?”

“No,”he answered.“I do not. But I believe that He once existed. And I think that it would be a good thing if He were here now.”

“I think so too.”

He put his foot on the fender and folded his hands over his knee:

“God is somewhere still. And I do not fear His mighty face. If ever I come to look upon it, then I daresay I shall see all that was high and glorious for me in my days, all that made my blood red and my back straight.”

Fru Adelheid smiled:

“Is that the old, strong God, I wonder?”

He glanced at her face, but there was nothing there to rouse his anger. Then he crossed the room and stood beside her again with the same expression in his eyes:

“The old, strong God,”he said.“I myself can do well enough without Him. But I need Him in my house.”

She laid her head back in her chair and laughed:

“Yes, indeed, Cordt. That you certainly do.”

And she kept on laughing and said again:

“Then I daresay that wouldn't have happened with…what was his name, who robbed you down below, in the counting-house? Doyou think so, Cordt? And then your wife would kiss your hand every morning and ask to know her stern lord's commands.”

He walked up and down and did not answer.

Fru Adelheid understood that he paid no attention to her sally, because her words were too small for his thoughts and she was displeased with herself and angry with him:

“But, to come back to the story, surely there are also Hagbarth and Signe,”she said.“Not to speak of Romeo and Juliet. And Maria Veczera…and Elvira Madigan.”

Cordt continued his walk.

“I don't say anything against it. It is a beautiful story. And perhaps it is true besides. In any case, it is right to place a good example before the young. But, as for as Queen Thyre, it surely depends a little upon how long she had been Fru Trygvasson.”

He did not so much as look at her. She felt that she was being treated as a child whom one does not trouble to answer and she worked herself up into a steadily increasing passion and sought for words to wound him:

“Every love passes,”she said.“That we know. It is all very well for those who die frst. They show up prettily in history; but there is nothing to prove that they were better than the rest of us.”

Cordt was still walking. Now he stood over by the window and looked out. Then he began to walk again.

“Cordt.”

He stopped before her chair and looked at her.

“Do you know how long King Olav and Queen Thyre were married?”

“What is the point of all this, Adelheid?”

She pushed back her chair and stood up. She was not able to say at once what she wished, but took a step towards him and sat down again and felt quite powerless.

Then there was something in his glance that helped her. And she drew herself up and looked him frmly in the face:

“It means that you are sitting here and growing musty in old books and old stuff and nonsense, while life is taking its course around you. In time, your beard will grow fast to the table and you will never speak a word, except once every ten years, and then it will be so wise and deep that no one will understand it.”

“There is no danger of that, Adelheid,”he said.

“But I don't want to be Queen Thyre or Signe or any of them,”she said; and her voice was so hard that something gave a wrench inside him.“I want to be the woman I am, the woman you fell in love with and took in your arms. I am not in a book. They will never read about me in the girls' schools. I have no time to spare for this endless old drab affection beyond the grave. I don't understand it, I don't believe in it. I want the wild, red love…”

Cordt had turned his face from her, while she was speaking. Now he looked at her again:

“Haven't you got it, Adelheid?”

She lay back in her chair and gave him a strange look. He had never seen those eyes before. Veil after veil fell over them, till they were quite dark, and then there suddenly lighted in them a gleam that was gone at the same moment and the veils fell again.

“I do not know,”she said.

She said it so softly that he could only just hear. He listened a moment whether she would say any more.

Then he bowed his head, so that his thick hair fell over his forehead, and threw it back again and turned very pale:

“Indeed?”he said.

He slowly crossed the room to the window and stood with his forehead against the panes. And slowly Fru Adelheid turned her face to him and back again to the fre.

It did not seem to her as though she had said it; and then, the next moment, she heard his quiet answer and saw his face, which was so terribly stern and white. She knew that it was not what she meant to say and she knew that it was true. She felt a bitter remorse at having hurt the man she loved, a senseless despair at not being able to make amends.

Then all this was dissolved in anger that he had led her on to speak like that. And the anger died away in a profound, soft pity for herself.

She saw deeper into her own soul than she had ever done before and turned dizzy with what she saw. She was seized with a wild and curious longing and bent lower over the well. Then it seemed to her as though she were falling and she gripped the arms of the chair so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

And behind the terror was the distant bird, that sang…a green and golden land, which she had never seen in her dreams…

Cordt stood before her and put out his hand:

“Good-night, Adelheid,”he said.

She sat straight up and looked at him in bewilderment:

“Are you going?”she asked.

“No. But I should like you to go to bed. I shall stay here a little longer and read.”

He sat down and took his book. Fru Adelheid rose slowly and went across the room.

At the door, she stood for a moment and looked at him. His face was very still. It seemed to her as though he were far away. She wondered whether he would look up and say good-night once more. Or only nod.

But he was reading and turning the pages of his book.