Inger started at the sight of him, and asked what made him so pale.
And at that he did not deny having met the Evil One himself.
"Where?" she asked.
"Over there. Right up towards our place."
Inger evinced no jealousy on her part. She did not praise him for it,
true, but there was nothing in her manner suggestive of a hard word
or a contemptuous kick. Inger herself, you see, had grown somewhat
lighter of heart and kindlier of late, whatever the cause; and now she
merely asked:
"The Evil One himself?"
Isak nodded: as far as he could see it was himself and no other.
"And how did you get rid of him?"
"I went for him in Jesu name," said Isak.
Inger wagged her head, altogether overwhelmed, and it was some time
before she could get his supper on the table.
"Anyhow," said she at last, "we'll have no more of you going out alone
in the woods by yourself."
She was anxious about him--and it did him good to know it. He made out
to be as bold as ever, and altogether careless whether he went alone
or in company; but this was only to quiet Inger's mind, not to
frighten her more than necessary with the awful thing that had
happened to himself. It was his place to protect her and them all; he
was the Man, the Leader.
But Inger saw through it also, and said: "Oh, I know you don't want to
frighten me. But you must take Sivert with you all the same."
Isak only sniffed.
"You might be taken poorly of a sudden, taken ill out in the
woods--you've not been over well lately."
Isak sniffed again. Ill? Tired, perhaps, and worn out a bit, but ill?
No need for Inger to start worrying and making a fool of him; he was
sound and well enough; ate, slept, and worked; his health was simply
terrific, it was incurable! Once, felling a tree, the thing had come
down on top of him, and broken his ear; but he made light of it. He
set the ear in place again, and kept it there by wearing his cap
drawn over it night and day, and it grew together again that way. For
internal complaints, he dosed himself with _treak_ boiled in milk to
make him sweat--liquorice it was, bought at the store, an old and
tried remedy, the _Teriak_ of the ancients. If he chanced to cut his
hand, he treated the wound with an ever-present fluid containing
salts, and it healed up in a few days. No doctor was ever Sent for to
Sellanraa.
No, Isak was not ill. A meeting with the Evil One might happen even
to the healthiest man. And he felt none the worse for his adventure
afterwards; on the contrary, it seemed to have strengthened him. And
as the winter drew on, and it was not such a dreadful time to wait
till the spring, he, the Man and the Leader, began to feel himself
almost a hero: he understood these things; only trust to him and
all would be well. In case of need, he could exorcise the Evil One
himself!
Altogether, the days were longer and lighter now; Easter was past,
Isak had hauled up all his timber, everything looked bright, human
beings could breathe again after another winter gone.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account