Norway -- Fiction; Norwegian fiction -- Translations into English
“But why ... what on earth have you pulled up here for?”
“I only thought if perhaps Fruen wouldn't mind getting out here. It's
all mud on ahead ... the wheels....”
She must have thought I was trying to entice her into something, Heaven
knows!...
“Drive on, man, do!” she said.
The horses moved on, and the carriage stopped just where the light was
at its full.
Emma came out to receive her mistress. Fruen handed her the rugs all in
a bundle, as she had rolled them up before getting out of the carriage.
“Thanks,” she said to me, glancing round as she went in. “Heavens, how
dreadfully wet you are!”
XXV
A curious piece of news awaited me: Falkenberg had taken service with
the Captain as a farm-hand.
This upset the plan we had agreed on, and left me alone once more. I
could not understand a word of it all. Anyhow, I could think it over
tomorrow.... By two in the morning I was still lying awake, shivering
and thinking. All those hours I could not get warm; then at last it
turned hot, and I lay there in full fever.... How frightened she had
been yesterday--dared not sit down to eat with me by the roadside, and
never opened her eyes to me once through all the journey....
Coming to my senses for a moment, it occurs to me I might wake
Falkenberg with my tossing about, and perhaps say things in my delirium.
That would never do. I clench my teeth and jump up, get into my clothes
again, scramble down the stairs, and set out over the fields at a run.
After a little my clothes begin to warm me; I make towards the woods,
towards the spot where we had been working; sweat and rain pour down my
face. If only I can find the saw and work the fever out of my body--'tis
an old and tried cure of mine, that. The saw is nowhere to be seen, but
I come upon the ax I had left there Saturday evening, and set to work
with that. It is almost too dark to see at all, but I feel at the cut
now and then with my hands, and bring down several trees. The sweat
pours off me now.
Then, feeling exhausted enough, I hide the ax in its old place; it is
getting light now, and I set off at a run for home.
“Where have you been?” asks Falkenberg.
Now, I do not want him to know about my having taken cold the day
before, and perhaps go making talk of it in the kitchen; I simply mutter
something about not knowing quite where I have been.
“You've been up to see Rønnaug, I bet,” he said.
I answered: yes, I had been with Rønnaug, since he'd guessed it.
“'Twas none so hard to guess,” he said. “Anyhow, you won't see me
running after any of them now.”
“Going to have Emma, then?”
“Why, it looks that way. It's a pity you can't get taken on here, too.
Then you might get one of the others, perhaps.”
And he went on talking of how I might perhaps have got my pick of the
other girls, but the Captain had no use for me. I wasn't even to go out
tomorrow to the wood.... The words sound far away, reaching me across a
sea of sleep that is rolling towards me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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