Norway -- Fiction; Norwegian fiction -- Translations into English
“And the Captain is trying to steal it? Why, this'll be a pretty case,
a mighty pretty case. Leave it to me. Did any one see you working on the
thing?”
“Yes, all his people on the place did.”
“Lord save me if it's not the stiffest bit of business I've heard for a
long time. Walk off with another man's invention! And the money, too ...
why, it might bring you in a million!”
I was obliged to confess I could not understand the Captain.
“Don't you? Haha, but I do! I've not been Lensmand all this time
far nothing. No; I've had my suspicions that he wasn't so rich as he
pretended. Well, I'll send him a bit of a letter from me, just a line or
so--what do you say to that? Hahaha! You leave it to me.”
But at this I began to feel uneasy. The Lensmand was too violent all at
once; it might well be that the Captain was not to blame in the matter
at all, and that the newspaper man had made the mistake himself. I
begged the Lensmand to let me write myself.
“And agree to divide the proceeds with that rascal? Never! You leave the
whole thing in my hands. And, anyhow, if you were to write yourself, you
couldn't set it out properly the way I can.”
But I worked on him until at last he agreed that I should write the
first letter, and then he should take it up after. I got some of the
Lensmand's paper again.
I got no writing done that evening; it had been an exciting day, and
my mind was all in a turmoil still. I thought and reckoned it out; for
Fruen's sake I would not write directly to the Captain, and risk causing
her unpleasantness as well; no, I would send a line to my comrade, Lars
Falkenberg, to keep an eye on the machine.
That night I had another visit from the corpse--that miserable old woman
in her night-shift, that would not leave me in peace on account of her
thumbnail. I had had a long spell of emotion the day before, so this
night she took care to come. Frozen with horror, I saw her come gliding
in, stop in the middle of the room, and stretch out her hand. Over
against the other wall lay my fellow-woodcutter in his bed, and it was
a strange relief to me to hear that he too lay groaning and moving
restlessly; at any rate there were two of us to share the danger. I
shook my head, to say I had buried the nail in a peaceful spot, and
could do no more. But the corpse stood there still. I begged her pardon;
but then, suddenly, I was seized with a feeling of annoyance; I grew
angry, and told her straight out I'd have no more of her nonsense.
I'd borrowed that nail of hers at a pinch, but I'd done all I could do
months ago, and buried it again.... At that she came gliding sideways
over to my pillow, trying to get behind me. I flung myself up in bed and
gave a shriek.
“What is it?” asked the lad from the other bed.
I rub my eyes and answer I'd been dreaming, that was all.
“Who was it came in just now?” asks the boy.
“I don't know. Was there any one in here?”
“I saw some one going...”
XXXI
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.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account