Short stories, Swedish -- Translations into English; Sweden -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
Escape it! escape! All was noted and written down; the one colour and
the one figure necessitated the other, and everything came about as it
was bound to come about.
Suddenly Colonel Beerencreutz sat up in bed; he would look at the
flowers and the roses, and think that perhaps our Lord could forget
after all. But at the moment Beerencreutz sat up in bed the bedroom door
opened, and one of the farm-labourers--a stranger to him--put his head
in and nodded to the Colonel.
It was now so light that the Colonel saw the man quite distinctly. It
was the most hideous face he had ever seen. He had small gray eyes like
a pig, a flat nose, and a thin, bristly beard. One could not say that
the man looked like an animal, for animals have nearly always good
faces, but still, he had something of the animal about him. His lower
jaw projected, his neck was thick, and his forehead was quite hidden by
his rough, unkempt hair.
He nodded three times to the Colonel, and every time his mouth opened
with a broad grin; and he put out his hand, red with blood, and showed
it triumphantly. Up to this moment the Colonel had sat up in bed as if
paralyzed, but now he jumped up and was at the door in two steps. But
when he reached the door, the fellow was gone and the door closed.
The Colonel was just on the point of raising the alarm, when it struck
him that the door must be fastened on the inside, on his side, as he had
himself locked it the night before; and on examining it, he found that
it had not been unlocked.
The Colonel felt almost ashamed to think that in his old age he had
begun to see ghosts. He went straight back to bed again.
When the morning came, and he had breakfasted, the Colonel felt still
more ashamed. He had excited himself to such an extent that he had
trembled all over and perspired from fear. He said not a word about it.
But later on in the day he and Vestblad went over the estate. As they
passed a labourer who was cutting sods on a bank Beerencreutz recognised
him again. It was the man he had seen in the night. He recognised
feature for feature.
'I would not keep that man a day longer in my service, my friend,' said
Beerencreutz, when they had walked a short distance. And he told
Vestblad what he had seen in the night. 'I tell you this simply to warn
you, in order that you may dismiss the man.'
But Vestblad would not; he was just the man he would not dismiss. And
when Beerencreutz pressed him more and more, he at last confessed that
he would not do anything to the man, because he was the son of an old
pauper woman who had died at Viksta close to Ekeby.
'You no doubt remember the story?' he added.
'If that's the case, I would rather go to the end of the world than live
another day with that man about the place,' said Beerencreutz. An hour
after he left, and was almost angry that his warning was not heeded.
'Some misfortune will happen before I come here again,' said the Colonel
to Vestblad, as he took leave.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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