Fathers and daughters -- Fiction; Sweden -- Fiction; Swedish fiction -- Translations into English
She feared Jan would raise objections, but he didn't; he remained
at the door till she was ready. Though apparently anxious to be
off, he seemed more controlled and rational than he had been all
day.
And what a night to venture out into! The cold came against them
like a rain of piercing and cutting glass-splinters. Their skins
smarted and they felt as if their noses were being torn from their
faces; their fingertips ached and their toes were as if they had
been cut off; they hardly knew they had any toes.
Jan uttered no word of complaint, neither did Katrina; they just
tramped on and on. Jan turned in on the winter-road across the
heights, the one they had traversed with Glory Goldie one Christmas
morning when she was so little she had to be carried.
There was a clear sky and in the west gleamed a pale crescent moon,
so that the night was far from pitch dark. Still it was difficult
to keep to the road because everything was so white with snow; time
after time they wandered too close to the edge and sank deep into a
drift. Nevertheless, they managed to make their way clear to the
huge stone that had once been hurled by a giant at Svartsjö church.
Jan had already got past it when Katrina, who was a little way
behind him, gave a shriek.
"Jan!" she cried out. And Jan had not heard her sound so frightened
since the day Lars threatened to take their home away from them.
"Can't you see there's some one sitting here?"
Jan turned and went back to Katrina. And now the two of them came
near taking to their heels; for, sure enough, propped against the
stone and almost covered with rim frost sat a giant troll, with a
bristly beard and a beak-like nose!
The troll, or whatever it was, sat quite motionless. It had become
so paralyzed from the cold that it had not been able to get back to
its cave, or wherever else it kept itself nowadays.
"Think that there really are such creatures after all!" said Katrina.
"I should never have believed it, for all I've heard so much about
them."
Jan was the first to recover his senses and to see what it was they
had come upon.
"It's no troll, Katrina," he said. "It's Agrippa Prästberg."
"Sakes alive!" gasped Katrina. "You don't tell me! From the look of
him he could easily be mistaken for a troll."
"He has just fallen asleep here," observed Jan. "He can't be dead,
surely!"
They shouted the old man's name and shook him; but he never stirred.
"Run back for the sled, Katrina," said Jan, "so we can draw him
home. I'll stay here and rub him with snow till he wakes up."
"Just so you don't freeze to death yourself!"
"My dear Katrina," laughed Jan, "I haven't felt as warm as I feel
now in many a day. I'm so happy about the little girl! Wasn't it
dear of her to send us out here to save the life of him who has
gone around spreading so many lies about her?"
A week or two later, as Jan was returning from his work one
evening, he met Agrippa Prästberg.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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