Stories by Foreign Authors

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As Bagger in the presence of Ingeborg opened the letter and again
saw the long-lost epistle of his early days, he trembled like a
man before whom the spirit-world apparently passes. But as he
perceived the added words, he exclaimed in utter perplexity: "Am I
awake? Do I dream? How is this possible?"

"Why should it not be possible?" asked Ingeborg. "To whom else
should the letter originally have come, than to--geb--?"

"--Geb--?--geb--? Yes, who is--geb--?" asked Bagger with
bewildered look.

"Who other than Ingeborg? is it not the third fourth, and fifth
letters of my name?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Bagger, pressing his hand upon his forehead, and,
as he at the next moment seized Ingeborg's hand, added with an eye
which had become dim with joy, "Truly, I have had more fortune
than sense."

Ingeborg answered, smiling:

"That ought he to expect who entrusts his fate to the wind's
flying mail."

THE RAILROAD AND THE CHURCHYARD

BY

BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON

From "The Flying Mail" Translated by Carl Larsen.

THE RAILROAD AND THE CHURCH-YARD

BY

BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON

I.

Canute Aakre belonged to an ancient family of the parish, where it
had always been distinguished for its intelligence and care for
the public good. His father through self-exertion had attained to
the ministry, but had died early, and his widow being by birth a
peasant, the children were brought up as farmers. Consequently,
Canute's education was only of the kind afforded by the public
school; but his father's library had early inspired him with a
desire for knowledge, which was increased by association with his
friend Henrik Wergeland, who often visited him or sent him books,
seeds for his farm, and much good counsel. Agreeably to his
advice, Canute early got up a club for practice in debating and
study of the constitution, but which finally became a practical
agricultural society, for this and the surrounding parishes. He
also established a parish library, giving his father's books as
its first endowment, and organized in his own house a Sunday-
school for persons wishing to learn penmanship, arithmetic, and
history. In this way the attention of the public was fixed upon
him, and he was chosen a member of the board of parish-
commissioners, of which he soon became chairman. Here he continued
his endeavors to advance the school interests, which he succeeded
in placing in an admirable condition.

Canute Aakre was a short-built, active man, with small sharp eyes
and disorderly hair. He had large lips which seemed constantly
working, and a row of excellent teeth which had the same
appearance, for they shone when he spoke his clear sharp words,
which came out with a snap, as when the sparks are emitted from a
great fire.

Among the many he had helped to an education, his neighbor Lars
Hogstad stood foremost. Lars was not much younger than Canute, but
had developed more slowly. Being in the habit of talking much of
what he read and thought, Canute found in Lars--who bore a quiet,
earnest manner--a good listener, and step by step a sensible
judge. The result was, that he went reluctantly to the meetings of
the board, unless first furnished with Lars Hogstad's advice,
concerning whatever matter of importance was before it, which
matter was thus most likely to result in practical improvement.
Canute's influence, therefore, brought his neighbor in as a member
of the board, and finally into everything with which he himself
was connected. They always rode together to the meetings, where
Lars never spoke, and only on the road to and from, could Canute
learn his opinion. They were looked upon as inseparable.

One fine autumn day, the parish-commissioners were convened, for
the purpose of considering, among other matters, a proposal made
by the Foged, to sell the public grain-magazine, and with the
proceeds establish a savings-bank. Canute Aakre, the chairman,
would certainly have approved this, had he been guided by his
better judgment; but, in the first place, the motion was made by
the Foged, whom Wergeland did not like, consequently, neither did
Canute; secondly, the grain-magazine had been erected by his
powerful paternal grandfather, by whom it was presented to the
parish. To him the proposal was not free from an appearance of
personal offence; therefore, he had not spoken of it to any one,
not even to Lars, who never himself introduced a subject.

As chairman, Canute read the proposal without comment, but,
according to his habit, looked over to Lars, who sat as usual a
little to one side, holding a straw between his teeth; this he
always did when entering upon a subject, using it as he would a
toothpick, letting it hang loosely in one corner of his mouth, or
turning it more quickly or slowly, according to the humor he was
in. Canute now saw with surprise, that the straw moved very fast.
He asked quickly, "Do you think we ought to agree to this?"

Lars answered dryly, "Yes, I do."

The whole assembly, feeling that Canute was of quite a different
opinion, seemed struck, and looked at Lars, who said nothing
further, nor was further questioned. Canute turned to another
subject, as if nothing had happened, and did not again resume the
question till toward the close of the meeting, when he asked with
an air of indifference if they should send it back to the Foged
for closer consideration, as it certainly was contrary to the mind
of the people of the parish, by whom the grain-magazine was highly
valued; also, if he should put upon the record, "Proposal deemed
inexpedient."

"Against one vote," said Lars.

"Against two," said another instantly.

"Against three," said a third, and before the chairman had
recovered from his surprise, a majority had declared in favor of
the proposal.

He wrote; then read in a low tone, "Referred for acceptance, and
the meeting adjourned." Canute, rising and closing the "Records,"
blushed deeply, but resolved to have this vote defeated in the
parish meeting. In the yard he hitched his horse to the wagon, and
Lars came and seated himself by his side. On the way home they
spoke upon various subjects, but not upon this.

On the following day Canute's wife started for Lars' house, to
inquire of his wife if anything had happened between their
husbands; Canute had appeared so queerly when he returned home the
evening previous. A little beyond the house she met Lars' wife,
who came to make the same inquiry on account of a similar peculiar
behavior in her husband. Lars' wife was a quiet, timid thing,
easily frightened, not by hard words, but by silence; for Lars
never spoke to her unless she had done wrong, or he feared she
would do so. On the contrary, Canute Aakre's wife spoke much with
her husband, and particularly about the commissioners' meetings,
for lately they had taken his thoughts, work, and love from her
and the children. She was jealous of it as of a woman, she wept at
night about it, and quarrelled with her husband concerning it in
the day. But now she could say nothing; for once he had returned
home unhappy; she immediately became much more so than he, and for
the life of her she must know what was the matter. So as Lars'
wife could tell her nothing, she had to go for information out in
the parish, where she obtained it, and of course was instantly of
her husband's opinion, thinking Lars incomprehensible, not to say
bad. But when she let her husband perceive this, she felt that,
notwithstanding what had occurred, no friendship was broken
between them; on the contrary, that he liked Lars very much.

The day for the parish meeting came. In the morning, Lars Hogstad
drove over for Canute Aakre, who came out and took a seat beside
him. They saluted each other as usual, spoke a little less than
they were wont on the way, but not at all of the proposal. The
meeting was full; some, too, had come in as spectators, which
Canute did not like, for he perceived by this a little excitement
in the parish. Lars had his straw, and stood by the stove, warming
himself, for the autumn had begun to be cold. The chairman read
the proposal in a subdued and careful manner, adding, that it came
from the Foged, who was not habitually fortunate. The building was
a gift, and such things it was not customary to part with, least
of all when there was no necessity for it.

Lars, who never before had spoken in the meetings, to the surprise
of all, took the floor. His voice trembled; whether this was
caused by regard for Canute, or anxiety for the success of the
bill, we cannot say; but his arguments were clear, good, and of
such a comprehensive and compact character as had hardly before
been heard in these meetings. In concluding, he said:

"Of what importance is it that the proposal is from the Foged?--
none,--or who it was that erected the house, or in what way it
became the public property?"

Canute, who blushed easily, turned very red, and moved nervously
as usual when he was impatient; but notwithstanding, he answered
in a low, careful tone, that there were savings banks enough in
the country, he thought, quite near, and almost too near. But if
one was to be instituted, there were other ways of attaining this
end, than by trampling upon the gifts of the dead, and the love of
the living. His voice was a little unsteady when he said this, but
recovered its composure, when he began to speak of the grain
magazine as such, and reason concerning its utility.

Lars answered him ably on this last, adding: "Besides, for many
reasons I would be led to doubt whether the affairs of this parish
are to be conducted for the best interests of the living, or for
the memory of the dead; or further, whether it is the love and
hate of a single family which rules, rather than the welfare of
the whole."

Canute answered quickly: "I don't know whether the last speaker
has been the one least benefited not only by the dead of this
family, but also by its still living representative."

In this remark he aimed first at the fact that his powerful
grandfather had, in his day, managed the farm for Lars'
grandfather, when the latter, on his own account, was on a little
visit to the penitentiary.

The straw, which had been moving quickly for a long time, was now
still:

"I am not in the habit of speaking everywhere of myself and
family," said he, treating the matter with calm superiority; then
he reviewed the whole matter in question, aiming throughout at a
particular point. Canute was forced to acknowledge to himself,
that he had never looked upon it from that standpoint, or heard
such reasoning; involuntarily he had to turn his eye upon Lars.
There he stood tall and portly, with clearness marked upon the
strongly-built forehead and in the deep eyes. His mouth was
compressed, the straw still hung playing in its corner, but great
strength lay around. He kept his hands behind him, standing erect,
while his low deep intonations seemed as if from the ground in
which he was rooted. Canute saw him for the first time in his
life, and from his inmost soul felt a dread of him; for
unmistakably this man had always been his superior! He had taken
all Canute himself knew or could impart, but retained only what
had nourished this strong hidden growth.

He had loved and cherished Lars, but now that he had become a
giant, he hated him deeply, fearfully; he could not explain to
himself why he thought so, but he felt it instinctively, while
gazing upon him; and in this forgetting all else, he exclaimed:

"But Lars! Lars! what in the Lord's name ails you?"

He lost all self-control,--"you, whom I have"--"you, who have"--he
couldn't get out another word, and seated himself, only to
struggle against the excitement which he was unwilling to have
Lars see; he drew himself up, struck the table with his fist, and
his eyes snapped from below the stiff disorderly hair which always
shaded them. Lars appeared as if he had not been interrupted, only
turning his head to the assembly, asking if this should be
considered the decisive blow in the matter, for in such a case
nothing more need be said.

Canute could not endure this calmness.

"What is it that has come among us?" he cried. "Us, who to this
day have never debated but in love and upright zeal? We are
infuriated at each other as if incited by an evil spirit;" and he
looked with fiery eyes upon Lars, who answered:

"You yourself surely bring in this spirit, Canute, for I have
spoken only of the case. But you will look upon it only through
your own self-will; now we shall see if your love and upright zeal
will endure, when once it is decided agreeably to our wish."

"Have I not, then, taken good care of the interests of the
parish?"

No reply. This grieved Canute, and he continued:

"Really, I did not think otherwise than that I had accomplished
something;--something for the good of the parish;--but may be I
have deceived myself."

He became excited again, for it was a fiery spirit within him,
which was broken in many ways, and the parting with Lars grieved
him, so he could hardly control himself. Lars answered:

"Yes, I know you give yourself the credit for all that is done
here, and should one judge by much speaking in the meetings, then
surely you have accomplished the most."

"Oh, is it this!" shouted Canute, looking sharply upon Lars: "it
is you who have the honor of it!"

"Since we necessarily talk of ourselves," replied Lars, "I will
say that all matters have been carefully considered by us before
they were introduced here."

Here little Canute Aakre resumed his quick way of speaking:

"In God's name take the honor, I am content to live without it;
there are other things harder to lose!"

Involuntarily Lars turned his eye from Canute, but said, the straw
moving very quickly: "If I were to speak my mind, I should say
there is not much to take honor for;--of course ministers and
teachers may be satisfied with what has been done; but, certainly,
the common men say only that up to this time the taxes have become
heavier and heavier."

A murmur arose in the assembly, which now became restless. Lars
continued:

"Finally, to-day, a proposition is made which, if carried, would
recompense the parish for all it has laid out; perhaps, for this
reason, it meets such opposition. It is the affair of the parish,
for the benefit of all its inhabitants, and ought to be rescued
from being a family matter." The audience exchanged glances, and
spoke half audibly, when one threw out a remark as he rose to go
to his dinner-pail, that these were "the truest words he had heard
in the meetings for many years." Now all arose, and the
conversation became general. Canute Aakre felt as he sat there
that the case was lost, fearfully lost; and tried no more to save
it. He had somewhat of the character attributed to Frenchmen, in
that he was good for first, second, and third attacks, but poor
for self-defence--his sensibilities overpowering his thoughts.

He could not comprehend it, nor could he sit quietly any longer;
so, yielding his place to the vice-chairman, he left,--and the
audience smiled.

He had come to the meeting accompanied by Lars, but returned home
alone, though the road was long. It was a cold autumn day; the way
looked jagged and bare, the meadow gray and yellow; while frost
had begun to appear here and there on the roadside. Disappointment
is a dreadful companion. He felt himself so small and desolate,
walking there; but Lars was everywhere before him, like a giant,
his head towering, in the dusk of evening, to the sky. It was his
own fault that this had been the decisive battle, and the thought
grieved him sorely: he had staked too much upon a single little
affair. But surprise, pain, anger, had mastered him; his heart
still burned, shrieked, and moaned within him. He heard the
rattling of a wagon behind; it was Lars, who came driving his
superb horse past him at a brisk trot, so that the hard road gave
a sound of thunder. Canute gazed after him, as he sat there so
broad-shouldered in the wagon, while the horse, impatient for
home, hurried on unurged by Lars, who only gave loose rein. It was
a picture of his power; this man drove toward the mark! He,
Canute, felt as if thrown out of his wagon to stagger along there
in the autumn cold.

Canute's wife was waiting for him at home. She knew there would be
a battle; she had never in her life believed in Lars, and lately
had felt a dread of him. It had been no comfort to her that they
had ridden away together, nor would it have comforted her if they
had returned in the same way. But darkness had fallen, and they
had not yet come. She stood in the doorway, went down the road and
home again; but no wagon appeared. At last she hears a rattling on
the road, her heart beats as violently as the wheels revolve; she
clings to the doorpost, looking out; the wagon is coming; only one
sits there; she recognizes Lars, who sees and recognizes her, but
is driving past without stopping. Now she is thoroughly alarmed!
Her limbs fail her; she staggers in, sinking on the bench by the
window. The children, alarmed, gather around, the youngest asking
for papa, for the mother never spoke with them but of him. She
loved him because he had such a good heart, and now this good
heart was not with them; but, on the contrary, away on all kinds
of business, which brought him only unhappiness; consequently,
they were unhappy too.

"Oh, that no harm had come to him to-day! Canute was so excitable!
Why did Lars come home alone? why didn't he stop?"

Should she run after him, or, in the opposite direction, toward
her husband? She felt faint, and the children pressed around her,
asking what was the matter; but this could not be told to them, so
she said they must take supper alone, and, rising, arranged it and
helped them. She was constantly glancing out upon the road. He did
not come. She undressed and put them to bed, and the youngest
repeated the evening prayer, while she bowed over him, praying so
fervently in the words which the tiny mouth first uttered, that
she did not perceive the steps outside.

Canute stood in the doorway, gazing upon his little congregation
at prayer. She rose; all the children shouted "Papa!" but he
seated himself, and said gently:

"Oh! let him repeat it."

The mother turned again to the bedside, that meantime he might not
see her face; otherwise, it would have been like intermeddling
with his grief before he felt a necessity of revealing it. The
child folded its hands,--the rest followed the example,--and it
said:

"I am now a little lad, But soon shall grow up tall, And make papa
and mamma glad, I'll be so good to all! When in Thy true and holy
ways, Thou dear, dear God wilt help me keep;--Remember now Thy
name to praise And so we'll try to go to sleep!"

What a peace now fell! Not a minute more had passed ere the
children all slept in it as in the lap of God; but the mother went
quietly to work arranging supper for the father, who as yet could
not eat. But after he had gone to bed, he said:

"Now, after this, I shall be at home."

The mother lay there, trembling with joy, not daring to speak,
lest she should reveal it; and she thanked God for all that had
happened, for, whatever it was, it had resulted in good.

II.

In the course of a year, Lars was chosen head Justice of the
Peace, chairman of the board of commissioners, president of the
savings-bank, and, in short, was placed in every office of parish
trust to which his election was possible. In the county
legislature, during the first year, he remained silent, but
afterward made himself as conspicuous as in the parish council;
for here, too, stepping up to the contest with him who had always
borne sway, he was victorious over the whole line, and afterward
himself manager. From this he was elected to the Congress, where
his fame had preceded him, and he found no lack of challenge. But
here, although steady and independent, he was always retiring,
never venturing beyond his depth, lest his post as leader at home
should be endangered by a possible defeat abroad.

It was pleasant to him now in his own town. When he stood by the
church-wall on Sundays, and the community glided past, saluting
and glancing sideways at him,--now and then one stepping up for
the honor of exchanging a couple of words with him,--it could
almost be said that, standing there, he controlled the whole
parish with a straw, which, of course, hung in the corner of his
mouth.

He deserved his popularity; for he had opened a new road which led
to the church; all this and much more resulted from the savings-
bank, which he had instituted and now managed; and the parish, in
its self-management and good order, was held up as an example to
all others.

Canute, of his own accord, quite withdrew,--not entirely at first,
for he had promised himself not thus to yield to pride. In the
first proposal he made before the parish board, he became
entangled by Lars, who would have it represented in all its
details; and, somewhat hurt, he replied: "When Columbus discovered
America he did not have it divided into counties and towns,--this
came by degrees afterward;" upon which, Lars compared Canute's
proposition (relating to stable improvements) to the discovery of
America, and afterward by the commissioners he was called by no
other name than "Discovery of America." Canute thought since his
influence had ceased there, so, also, had his duty to work; and
afterwards declined re-election.

But he was industrious, and, in order still to do something for
the public good, he enlarged his Sunday-school, and put it, by
means of small contributions from the pupils, in connection with
the mission cause, of which he soon became the centre and leader
in his own and surrounding counties. At this, Lars remarked that,
if Canute ever wished to collect money for any purpose, he must
first know that its benefit was only to be realized some thousands
of miles away.

There was no strife between them now. True, they associated with
each other no longer, but saluted and exchanged a few words
whenever they met. Canute always felt a little pain in remembering
Lars, but struggled to overcome it, by saying to himself that it
must have been so. Many years afterward at a large wedding-party,
where both were present and a little gay, Canute stepped upon a
chair and proposed a toast to the chairman of the parish council,
and the county's first congressman. He spoke until he manifested
emotion, and, as usual, in an exceedingly handsome way. It was
honorably done, and Lars came to him, saying, with an unsteady
eye, that for much of what he knew and was, he had to thank him.

At the next election, Canute was again elected chairman.

But if Lars Hogstad had foreseen what was to follow, he would not
have influenced this. It is a saying that "all events happen in
their time," and just as Canute appeared again in the council, the
ablest men in the parish were threatened with bankruptcy, the
result of a speculative fever which had been raging long, but now
first began to react. They said that Lars Hogstad had caused this
great epidemic, for it was he who had brought the spirit of
speculation into the parish. This penny malady had originated in
the parish board; for this body itself had acted as leading
speculator. Down to the youth of twenty years, all were
endeavoring by sharp bargains to make the one dollar, ten; extreme
parsimony, in order to lay up in the beginning, was followed by an
exceeding lavishness in the end: and as the thoughts of all were
directed to money only, a disposition to selfishness, suspicion,
and disunion had developed itself, which at last turned to
prosecutions and hatred. It was said that the parish board had set
the example in this also; for one of the first acts, performed by
Lars as chairman, was a prosecution against the minister,
concerning doubtful prerogatives. The venerable pastor had lost,
but had also immediately resigned. At the time some had praised,
others denounced, this act of Lars; but it had proved a bad
example. Now came the effects of his management in the form of
loss to all the leading men of the parish; and consequently, the
public opinion quickly changed. The opposite party immediately
found a champion; for Canute Aakre had come into the parish
board,--introduced there by Lars himself.

The struggle at once began. All those youths, who, in their time,
had been under Canute Aakre's instruction, were now grown-up men,
the best educated, conversant with all the business and public
transactions in the parish; Lars had now to contend against these
and others like them, who had disliked him from their childhood.
One evening after a stormy debate, as he stood on the platform
outside his door, looking over the parish, a sound of distant
threatening thunder came toward him from the large farms, lying in
the storm. He knew that that day their owners had become
insolvent, that he himself and the savings-bank were going the
same way: and his whole long work would culminate in condemnation
against him.

In these days of struggle and despair, a company of surveyors came
one evening to Hogstad, which was the first farm at the entrance
of the parish to mark out the line of a new railroad. In the
course of conversation, Lars perceived it was still a question
with them whether the road should run through this valley, or
another parallel one.

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