Stories by Foreign Authors
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Like a flash of lightning it darted through his mind, that, if he
could manage to get it through here, all real estate would rise in
value, and not only he himself be saved, but his popularity handed
down to future generations. He could not sleep that night, for his
eyes were dazzled with visions; sometimes he seemed to hear the
noise of an engine. The next day he accompanied the surveyors in
their examination of the locality; his horses carried them, and to
his farm they returned. The following day they drove through the
other valley, he still with them, and again carrying them back
home. The whole house was illuminated, the first men of the parish
having been invited to a party made for the surveyors, which
terminated in a carouse that lasted until morning. But to no
avail; for the nearer they came to the decision, the clearer it
was to be seen that the road could not be built through here
without great extra expense. The entrance to the valley was
narrow, through a rocky chasm, and the moment it swung into the
parish the river made a curve in its way, so that the road would
either have to make the same--crossing the river twice--or go
straight forward through the old, now unused, churchyard. But it
was not long since the last burials there, for the church had been
but recently moved.
Did it only depend upon a strip of an old churchyard, thought
Lars, whether the parish should have this great blessing or not?--
then he would use his name and energy for the removal of the
obstacle. So immediately he made a visit to minister and bishop,
from them to county legislature and Department of the
Interior; he reasoned and negotiated; for he had possessed
himself of all possible information concerning the vast profits
that would accrue on the one side, and the feelings of the parish
on the other, and had really succeeded in gaining over all
parties. It was promised him that by the reinterment of some
bodies in the new churchyard, the only objection to this line
might be considered as removed, and the king's approbation
guaranteed. It was told him that he need only make the motion in
the county meeting.
The parish had become as excited on the question as himself. The
spirit of speculation, which had been prevalent so many years, now
became jubilant. No one spoke or thought of anything but Lars'
journey and its probable result. Consequently, when he returned
with the most splendid promises, they made much ado about him;
songs were sung to his praise,--yes, if at that time one after
another of the largest farms had toppled over, not a soul would
have given it any attention; the former speculation fever had been
succeeded by the new one of the railroad.
The county board met; an humble petition that the old churchyard
might be used for the railroad was drawn up to be presented to the
king. This was unanimously voted; yes, there was even talk of
voting thanks to Lars, and a gift of a coffee-pot, in the model of
a locomotive. But finally, it was thought best to wait until
everything was accomplished. The petition from the parish to the
county board was sent back, with a requirement of a list of the
names of all bodies which must necessarily be removed. The
minister made out this, but instead of sending it directly to the
county board, had his reasons for communicating it first to the
parish. One of the members brought it to the next meeting. Here,
Lars opened the envelope, and as chairman read the names.
Now it happened that the first body to be removed was that of
Lars' own grandfather. A Hide shudder passed through the assembly;
Lars himself was taken by surprise; but continued. Secondly, came
the name of Canute Aakre's grandfather; for the two had died at
nearly the same time. Canute Aakre sprang from his seat; Lars
stopped; all looked up with dread; for the name of the elder
Canute Aakre had been the one most beloved in the parish for
generations. There was a pause of some minutes. At last Lars
hemmed, and continued. But the matter became worse, for the
further he proceeded, the nearer it approached their own day, and
the dearer the dead became. When he ceased, Canute Aakre asked
quietly if others did not think as he, that spirits were around
them. It had begun to grow dusk in the room, and although they
were mature men sitting in company, they almost felt themselves
frightened. Lars took a bundle of matches from his pocket and lit
a candle, somewhat dryly remarking that this was no more than they
had known beforehand.
"No," replied Canute, pacing the floor, "this is more than I knew
beforehand. Now I begin to think that even railroads can be bought
too dearly."
This electrified the audience, and Canute continued that the whole
affair must be reconsidered, and made a motion to that effect. In
the excitement which had prevailed, he said it was also true that
the benefit to be derived from the road had been considerably
overrated; for if it did not pass through the parish, there would
have to be a depot at each extremity; true, it would be a little
more trouble to drive there, than to a station within; yet not so
great as that for this reason they should dishonor the rest of the
dead. Canute was one of those who, when his thoughts were excited,
could extemporize and present most sound reasons; he had not a
moment previously thought of what he now said; but the truth of it
struck all. Lars, seeing the danger of his position, thought best
to be careful, and so apparently acquiesced in Canute's
proposition to reconsider; for such emotions, thought he, are
always strongest in the beginning; one must temporize with them.
But here he had miscalculated. In constantly increasing the dread
of touching their dead overswept the parish; what no one had
thought of as long as the matter existed only in talk became a
serious question when it came to touch themselves. The
women particularly were excited, and at the parish house, on the day
of the next meeting, the road was black with the gathered
multitude. It was a warm summer day, the windows were taken out,
and as many stood without as within. All felt that that day would
witness a great battle.
Lars came, driving his handsome horse, saluted by all; he looked
quietly and confidently around, not seeming surprised at the
throng. He seated himself, straw in mouth, near the window, and
not without a smile saw Canute rise to speak, as he thought, for
all the dead lying over there in the old churchyard.
But Canute Aakre did not begin with the churchyard. He made a
stricter investigation into the profits likely to accrue from
carrying the road through the parish, showing that in all this
excitement they had been over-estimated. He had calculated the
distance of each farm from the nearest station, should the road be
taken through the neighboring valley, and finally asked:
"Why has such a hurrah been made about this railroad, when it
would not be for the good of the parish after all?"
This he could explain; there were those who had brought about such
a previous disturbance, that a greater was necessary in order that
the first might be forgotten. Then, too, there were those who,
while the thing was new, could sell their farms and lands to
strangers, foolish enough to buy; it was a shameful speculation,
which not the living only but the dead also must be made to
promote!
The effect produced by his address was very considerable. But Lars
had firmly resolved, come what would, to keep cool, and smilingly
replied that he supposed Canute Aakre himself had been anxious for
the railroad, and surely no one would accuse him of understanding
speculation. (A little laugh ensued.) Canute had had no objection
to the removal of bodies of common people for the sake of the
railroad, but when it came to that of his own grandfather, the
question became suddenly of vital importance to the whole parish.
He said no more, but looked smilingly at Canute, as did also
several others. Meanwhile, Canute Aakre surprised both him and
them by replying:
"I confess it; I did not realize what was at stake until it
touched my own dead; possibly this is a shame, but really it would
have been a greater one not even then to have realized it, as is
the case with Lars! Never, I think, could Lars' raillery have been
more out of place; for folks with common feelings the thing is
really revolting."
"This feeling has come up quite recently," answered Lars, "and so
we will hope for its speedy disappearance also. It may be well to
think upon what minister, bishop, county officers, engineers, and
Department will say, if we first unanimously set the ball in
motion and then come asking to have it stopped; if we first are
jubilant and sing songs, then weep and chant requiems. If they do
not say that we have run mad here in the parish, at least they may
say that we have grown a little queer lately."
"Yes, God knows, they can say so," answered Canute; "we have been
acting strangely enough during the last few days,--it is time for
us to retract. It has really gone far when we can dig up, each his
own grandfather, to make way for a railroad; when in order that
our loads may be carried more easily forward, we can violate the
resting-place of the dead. For is not overhauling our churchyard
the same as making it yield us food? What has been buried there in
Jesus' name, shall we take up in the name of Mammon? It is but
little better than eating our progenitors' bones."
"That is according to the order of nature," said Lars dryly.
"Yes, the nature of plants and animals," replied Canute.
"Are we not then animals?" asked Lars.
"Yes, but also the children of the living God, who have buried our
dead in faith upon Him; it is He who shall raise them, and not
we."
"Oh, you prate! Are not the graves dug over at certain fixed
periods anyway? What evil is there in that it happens some years
earlier?" asked Lars.
"I will tell you! What was born of them yet lives; what they built
yet remains; what they loved, taught, and suffered for is all
around us and within us; and shall we not, then, let their bodies
rest in peace?"
"I see by your warmth that you are thinking of your grandfather
again," replied Lars; "and will say it is high time you ceased to
bother the parish about him, for he monopolized space enough in
his lifetime; it isn't worth while to have him lie in the way now
he is dead. Should his corpse prevent a blessing to the parish
that would reach to a hundred generations, we surely would have
reason to say, that of all born here he has done us most harm."
Canute Aakre tossed back his disorderly hair, his eyes darted
fire, his whole frame appeared like a drawn bow.
"What sort of a blessing this is that you speak of, I have already
proved. It is of the same character as all the others which you
have brought to the parish, namely, a doubtful one. True enough
you have provided us with a new church; but, too, you have filled
it with a new spirit,--and not that of love. True, you have made
us new roads,--but also new roads to destruction, as is now
plainly evident in the misfortunes of many. True, you have
lessened our taxes to the public; but, too, you have increased
those to ourselves;--prosecutions, protests, and failures are no
blessing to a community. And you dare scoff at the man in his
grave whom the whole parish blesses! You dare say he lies in our
way,--yes, very likely he lies in your way. This is plainly to be
seen; but over this grave you shall fall! The spirit which has
reigned over you, and at the same time until now over us, was not
born to rule, only to serve. The churchyard shall surely remain
undisturbed; but to-day it numbers one more grave, namely, that of
your popularity, which shall now be interred in it."
Lars Hogstad rose, white as a sheet; he opened his mouth, but was
unable to speak a word, and the straw fell. After three or four
vain attempts to recover it and to find utterance, he belched
forth like a volcano:
"Are these the thanks I get for all my toils and struggles? Shall
such a woman-preacher be able to direct? Ah, then, the devil be
your chairman if ever more I set my foot here! I have
kept your petty business in order until to-day; and after me
it will fall into a thousand pieces; but let it go now. Here are
the 'Records!' (and he flung them across the table). Out on such a
company of wenches and brats! (striking the table with his fist).
Out on the whole parish, that it can see a man recompensed as I
now am!"
He brought down his fist once more with such force, that the leaf
of the great table sprang upward, and the inkstand with all its
contents downward upon the floor, marking for coming generations
the spot where Lars Hogstad, in spite of all his prudence, lost
his patience and his rule.
He sprang for the door, and soon after was away from the house.
The whole audience stood fixed,--for the power of his voice and
his wrath had frightened them,--until Canute Aakre, remembering
the taunt he had received at the time of his fall, with beaming
countenance, and assuming Lars' voice, exclaimed:
"Is this the decisive blow in the matter?"
The assembly burst into uproarious merriment. The grave meeting
closed amid laughter, talk, and high glee; only few left the
place, those remaining called for drink, and made a night of
thunder succeed a day of lightning. They felt happy and
independent as in old days, before the time in which the
commanding spirit of Lars had cowed their souls into silent
obedience. They drank toasts to their liberty, they sang, yes,
finally they danced, Canute Aakre with the vice-chairman taking
lead, and all the members of the council following, and boys and
girls too, while the young ones outside shouted, "hurrah!" for
such a spectacle they had never before witnessed.
III.
Lars moved around in the large rooms at Hogstad without uttering a
word. His wife who loved him, but always with fear and trembling,
dared not so much as show herself in his presence. The management
of the farm and house had to go on as it would, while a multitude
of letters were passing to and fro between Hogstad and the parish,
Hogstad and the capital; for he had charges against the county
board which were not acknowledged, and a prosecution ensued;
against the savings-bank, which were also unacknowledged, and so
came another prosecution. He took offence at articles in the
Christiania Correspondence, and prosecuted again, first the
chairman of the county board, and then the directors of the
savings-bank. At the same time there were bitter articles in the
papers, which according to report were by him, and were the cause
of great strife in the parish, setting neighbor against neighbor.
Sometimes he was absent whole weeks at once, nobody knowing where,
and after returning lived secluded as before. At church he was not
seen after the grand scene in the representatives' meeting.
Then, one Saturday night, the mail brought news that the railroad
was to go through the parish after all, and through the old
churchyard. It struck like lightning into every home. The
unanimous veto of the county board had been in vain; Lars
Hogstad's influence had proved stronger. This was what his absence
meant, this was his work! It was involuntary on the part of the
people that admiration of the man and his dogged persistency
should lessen dissatisfaction at their own defeat; and the more
they talked of the matter the more reconciled they seemed to
become: for whatever has once been settled beyond all change
develops in itself, little by little, reasons why it is so, which
we are accordingly brought to acknowledge.
In going to church next day, as they encountered each other they
could not help laughing; and before the service, just as nearly
all were convened outside,--young and old, men and women, yes,
even children,--talking about Lars Hogstad, his talents, his
strong will, and his great influence, he himself with his
household came driving up in four carriages. Two years had passed
since he was last there. He alighted and walked through the crowd,
when involuntarily all lifted their hats to him like one man; but
he looked neither to the right nor the left, nor returned a single
salutation. His little wife, pale as death, walked behind him. In
the house, the surprise became so great that, one after another,
noticing him, stopped singing and stared. Canute Aakre, who sat in
his pew in front of Lars', perceiving the unusual appearance and
no cause for it in front, turned around and saw Lars sitting bowed
over his hymn-book, looking for the place.
He had not seen him until now since the day of the
representatives' meeting, and such a change in a man he never
could have imagined. This was no victor. His head was becoming
bald, his face was lean and contracted, his eyes hollow and
bloodshot, and the giant neck presented wrinkles and cords. At a
glance he perceived what this man had endured, and was as suddenly
seized with a feeling of strong pity, yes, even with a touch of
the old love. In his heart he prayed for him, and promised himself
surely to seek him after service; but, ere he had opportunity,
Lars had gone. Canute resolved he would call upon him at his home
that night, but his wife kept him back.
"Lars is one of the kind," said she, "who cannot endure a debt of
gratitude: keep away from him until possibly he can in some way do
you a favor, and then perhaps he will come to you."
However, he did not come. He appeared now and then at church, but
nowhere else, and associated with no one. On the contrary, he
devoted himself to his farm and other business with an earnestness
which showed a determination to make up in one year for the
neglect of many; and, too, there were those who said it was
necessary.
Railroad operations in the valley began very soon. As the line was
to go directly past his house, Lars remodelled the side facing the
road, connecting with it an elegant verandah, for of course his
residence must attract attention. They were just engaged in this
work when the rails were laid for the conveyance of gravel and
timber, and a small locomotive was brought up. It was a fine
autumn evening when the first gravel train was to come down. Lars
stood on the platform of his house to hear the first signal, and
see the first column of smoke; all the hands on the farm were
gathered around him. He looked out over the parish, lying in the
setting sun, and felt that he was to be remembered so long as a
train should roar through the fruitful valley. A feeling of
forgiveness crept into his soul. He looked toward the churchyard,
of which a part remained, with crosses bowing toward the earth,
but a part had become railroad. He was just trying to define his
feelings, when, whistle went the first signal, and a while after
the train came slowly along, puffing out smoke mingled with
sparks, for wood was used instead of coal; the wind blew toward
the house, and standing there they soon found themselves enveloped
in a dense smoke; but by and by, as it cleared away, Lars saw the
train working through the valley like a strong will.
He was satisfied, and entered the house as after a long day's
work. The image of his grandfather stood before him at this
moment. This grandfather had raised the family from poverty to
forehanded circumstances; true, a part of his citizen-honor had
been lost, but forward he had pushed, nevertheless. His faults
were those of his time; they were to be found on the uncertain
borders of the moral conceptions of that period, and are of no
consideration now. Honor to him in his grave, for he suffered and
worked; peace to his ashes. It is good to rest at last. But he
could get no rest because of his grandson's great ambition. He was
thrown up with stone and gravel. Pshaw! very likely he would only
smile that his grandson's work passed above his head.
With such thoughts he had undressed and gone to bed. Again his
grandfather's image glided forth. What did he wish. Surely he
ought to be satisfied now, with the family's honor sounding forth
above his grave; who else had such a monument? But yet, what mean
these two great eyes of fire? This hissing, roaring, is no longer
the locomotive, for see! it comes from the churchyard directly
toward the house: an immense procession! The eyes of fire are his
grandfather's, and the train behind are all the dead. It advances
continually toward the house, roaring, crackling, flashing. The
windows burn in the reflection of dead men's eyes ... he made a
mighty effort to collect himself, "For it was a dream, of course,
only a dream; but let me waken! ... See: now I am awake; come,
ghosts!"
And behold: they really come from the churchyard, overthrowing
road, rails, locomotive and train with such violence that they
sink in the ground; and then all is still there, covered with sod
and crosses as before. But like giants the spirits advanced, and
the hymn, "Let the dead have rest!" goes before them. He knows it:
for daily in all these years it has sounded through his soul, and
now it becomes his own requiem; for this was death and its
visions. The perspiration started out over his whole body, for
nearer and nearer,--and see there, on the window-pane there, there
they are now; and he heard his name. Overpowered with dread he
struggled to shout, for he was strangling; a dead, cold hand
already clenched his throat, when he regained his voice in a
shrieking "Help me!" and awoke. At that moment the window was
burst in with such force that the pieces flew on to his bed. He
sprang up; a man stood in the opening, around him smoke and
tongues of fire.
"The house is burning, Lars, we'll help you out!"
It was Canute Aakre.
When again he recovered consciousness, he was lying out in a
piercing wind that chilled his limbs. No one was by him; on the
left he saw his burning house; around him grazed, bellowed,
bleated, and neighed his stock; the sheep huddled together in a
terrified flock; the furniture recklessly scattered: but, on
looking around more carefully, he discovered somebody sitting on a
knoll near him, weeping. It was his wife. He called her name. She
started.
"The Lord Jesus be thanked that you live," she exclaimed, coming
forward and seating herself, or rather falling down before him: "O
God! O God! now we have enough of that railroad!"
"The railroad?" he asked: but ere he spoke, it had flashed through
his mind how it was; for, of course, the cause of the fire was the
falling of sparks from the locomotive among the shavings by the
new side-wall. He remained sitting, silent and thoughtful; his
wife dared say no more, but was trying to find clothes for him:
the things with which she had covered him, as he lay unconscious,
having fallen off. He received her attentions in silence, but as
she crouched down to cover his feet, he laid a hand upon her head.
She hid her face in his lap, and wept aloud. At last he had
noticed her. Lars understood, and said:
"You are the only friend I have."
Although to hear these words had cost the house, no matter, they
made her happy; she gathered courage and said, rising and looking
submissively at him:
"That is because no one else understands you."
Now again they talked of all that had transpired, or rather he
remained silent, while she told about it. Canute Aakre had been
first to perceive the fire, had awakened his people, sent the
girls out through the parish, while he himself hastened with men
and horses to the spot where all were sleeping. He had taken
charge of extinguishing the fire and saving the property; Lars
himself he had dragged from the burning room and brought him here
on the left, to the windward,--here, out on the churchyard.
While they were talking of all this, some one came driving rapidly
up the road and turned off toward them; soon he alighted. It was
Canute, who had been home after his church-wagon; the one in which
so many times they had ridden together to and from the parish
meetings. Now Lars must get in and ride home with him. They took
each other by the hand, one sitting, the other standing.
"You must come with me now," said Canute, Without reply Lars rose:
they walked side by side to the wagon. Lars was helped in: Canute
seated himself by his side. What they talked about as they rode,
or afterward in the little chamber at Aakre, in which they
remained until morning, has never been known; but from that day
they were again inseparable.
As soon as disaster befalls a man, all seem to understand his
worth. So the parish took upon themselves to rebuild Lars
Hogstad's houses, larger and handsomer than any others in the
valley. Again he became chairman, but with Canute Aakre at his
side, and from that day all went well.
TWO FRIENDS
BY
ALEXANDER KIELLAND
From "Tales of Two Countries." Translated by H. H. Boyesen.
TWO FRIENDS
BY
ALEXANDER KIELLAND
No one could understand where he got his money from. But the
person who marvelled most at the dashing and luxurious life led by
Alphonse was his quondam friend and partner.
After they dissolved partnership, most of the custom and the best
connection passed by degrees into Charles's hands. This was not
because he in any way sought to run counter to his former partner;
on the contrary, it arose simply from the fact that Charles was
the more capable man of the two. And as Alphonse had now to work
on his own account, it was soon clear to any one who observed him
closely, that in spite of his promptitude, his amiability, and his
prepossessing appearance, he was not fitted to be at the head of
an independent business.
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