Book: The Emperor of Portugalia

S >> Selma Lagerlof >> The Emperor of Portugalia




Lady Liljecrona was a serious-minded and dutiful woman who liked
industrious and capable folk like Katrina of Ruffluck. She had
sympathy for her and wanted to show it. But Katrina continued to
stand up for her husband.

"He is old and has had much sorrow these last years. He has need of
a little freedom, after a lifetime of hard toil."

"It's well you can take your misfortune so calmly," observed Lady
Liljecrona somewhat sharply. "But I really think that you, with
your good sense, should try to take out of Jan the ridiculous
nonsense that has got into his head. You see, if this is allowed to
go on it will end in his being shut up in a madhouse."

Now Katrina squared her shoulders and looked highly indignant.

"Jan is not crazy," she said. "But Our Lord has placed a shade
before his eyes so he'll not have to see what he couldn't bear
seeing. And for that one can only feel thankful."

Lady Liljecrona did not wish to appear contentious. She thought it
only right and proper for a wife to stand by her husband.

"Then, Katrina, everything is all right as it is," she said
pleasantly. "And don't forget that here you will find work enough
to keep you going the year around."

And then Lady Liljecrona saw the stern, set old face in front of
her soften and relax: all that had been bound in and held back gave
way--grief and solicitude and love came breaking through, and the
eyes overflowed.

"My only happiness is to work for him," said the old woman. "He has
become so wonderful with the years that he's something more than
just human. But for that I suppose they'll come and take him away
from me."



BOOK FOUR

THE WELCOME GREETING

She had come! The little girl had come! It is hard to find words to
describe so great an event.

She did not arrive till late in the autumn, when the passenger
boats that ply Lake Loeven had discontinued their trips for the
season and navigation was kept up by only two small freight
steamers. But on either of these she had not cared to travel--or
perhaps she had not even known about them. She had come by wagon
from the railway station to the Ashdales.

So after all Jan of Ruffluck did not have the pleasure of welcoming
his daughter at the Borg pier, where for fifteen years he had
awaited her coming. Yes, it was all of fifteen years that she had
been away. For seventeen years she had been the light and life of
his home, and for almost as long a time had he missed her.

It happened that Jan did not even have the good fortune to be at
home to welcome Glory Goldie when she came. He had just stepped
over to Falla to chat a while with the old mistress, who had now
moved out of the big farmhouse and was living in an attic room in
one of the cottages on the estate. She was one of many lonely old
people on whom the Emperor of Portugallia peeped in occasionally,
to speak a word of cheer so as to keep them in good spirits.

It was only Katrina who stood at the door and received the little
girl on her homecoming. She had been sitting at the spinning wheel
all day and had just stopped to rest for a moment, when she heard
the rattle of a team down the road. It so seldom happened that any
one drove through the Ashdales that she stepped to the door to
listen. Then she discovered that it was not a common cart that was
coming, but a spring wagon. All at once her hands began to tremble.
They had a way of doing that now whenever she became frightened or
perturbed. Otherwise, she was well and strong despite her two and
seventy years. She was only fearful lest this trembling of the
hands should increase so that she would no longer be able to earn
the bread for herself and Jan, as she had done thus far.

By this time Katrina had practically abandoned all hope of ever
seeing the daughter again, and that day she had not even been in
her thought. But instantly she heard the rumble of wagon wheels she
knew for a certainty who was coming. She went over to the chest of
drawers to take out a fresh apron, but her hands shook so hard that
she could not insert the key into the keyhole. Now it was
impossible for her to better her attire, therefore she had to go
meet her daughter just as she was.

The little girl did not come in any golden chariot, she was not
even seated in the wagon, but came afoot. The road to the Ashdales
was as rocky then as at the time when Eric of Falla and his wife
had driven her to the parsonage, to have her christened, and now
she and the driver tramped on either side of the wagon steadying a
couple of large trunks that stood on end behind the seat, to
prevent them being jolted into the ditch. She arrived with no more
pomp and state than this, and more was perhaps not called for
either.

Katrina had just got the outer door open when the wagon stopped in
front of the gate. She should have gone and opened the gate, of
course, but she did not do so. She felt all at once such a sinking
at the heart that she was unable to take a step.

She knew it was Glory Goldie who had come, although the person who
now pushed the gate open looked like a grand lady. On her head was
a large hat trimmed with plumes and flowers and she wore a smart
coat and skirt of fine cloth; but all the same it was the little
girl of Ruffluck Croft!

Glory Goldie, hurrying into the yard in advance of the team, rushed
up to her mother with outstretched hand. But Katrina shut her eyes
and stood still. So many bitter thoughts arose in her at that
moment! She felt that she could never forgive the daughter for
being alive and coming back so sound of wind and limb, after
letting her parents wait in vain for her all these years. She
almost wished the daughter had never bothered to come home.

Katrina must have looked as if ready to drop, for Glory Goldie
quickly threw her arms around her and almost carried her into the
house.

"Mother dear, you mustn't be so frightened! Don't you know me?"

Katrina opened her eyes and regarded the daughter scrutinizingly.
She was a sensible person, was Katrina, and of course she did not
expect that one whom she had not seen in fifteen years should look
exactly as she had looked when leaving home. Nevertheless, she was
horrified at what she beheld.

The person standing before her appeared much older than her years;
for she was only two and thirty. But it was not because Glory
Goldie had turned gray at the temples and her forehead was covered
with a mass of wrinkles that Katrina was shocked, but because she
had grown ugly. She had acquired an unnatural leaden hue and there
was something heavy and gross about her mouth. The whites of her
eyes had become gray and bloodshot, and the skin under her eyes
hung in sacks.

Katrina had sunk down on a chair. She sat with her hands tightly
clasped round her knees to keep them from shaking. She was thinking
of the radiant young girl of seventeen in the red dress; for thus
had she lived in Katrina's memory up to the present moment. She
wondered whether she could ever be happy over Glory Goldie's
return.

"You should have written," she said. "You should at least have sent
us a greeting, so that we could have known you were still in the
land of the living."

"Yes, I know," said the daughter. Her voice, at least, had not
failed her; it sounded as confident and cheery as of old. "I went
wrong in the beginning--but perhaps you've heard about it?"

"Yes; that much we know," sighed Katrina.

"That was why I stopped writing," said Glory Goldie, with a little
laugh. There was something strong and sturdy about the girl then,
as formerly. She was not one of those who torture themselves with
remorse and self-condemnation. "Don't think any more of that,
mother," she added, as Katrina did not speak. "I've been doing real
well lately. For a time I kept a restaurant and now, I'll have you
know, I'm head stewardess on a steamer that runs between Malmoe and
Luebeck, and this fall I have fitted up a home for myself at Malmoe.
Sometimes I felt that I ought to write to you, but finding it
rather hard to start in again, I decided to put it off until I was
prepared to take you and father to live with me. Then, after I'd
got everything fixed fine for you, I thought it would be ever so
much nicer to come for you myself than to write."

"And you haven't heard anything about us?" asked Katrina. All that
Glory Goldie had told her mother should have gladdened her, but
instead it only made her feel the more depressed.

"No," replied the daughter, then added, as if in self-justification:
"I knew, of course, that you'd find help if things got too bad." At
the same time she noticed how Katrina's hands shook for all they
were being held tightly clasped. She understood then that the old
folks were worse off than she had supposed, and tried to explain
her conduct. "I didn't care to send home small sums, as others do,
but wanted to save until I had enough money to provide a good home
for you."

"We haven't needed money," said Katrina. "It would have been enough
for us if you had only written."

Glory Goldie tried to rouse her mother from her slough of despond,
as she had often done in the old days. So she said: "Mother, you
don't want to spoil this moment for me, do you? Why, I'm back with
you again! Come, now, and we'll take in my boxes and unpack them.
I've brought provisions along. We'll have a fine dinner all ready
by the time father comes home." She went out to help the driver
take the luggage down from the wagon, but Katrina did not follow
her.

Glory Goldie had not asked how her father was getting on. She
supposed, of course, that he was still working at Falla. Katrina
knew she would have to tell the daughter of the father's condition,
but kept putting it off. Anyway, the little girl had brought a
freshening breeze into the hut and the mother felt loath to put a
sudden end to her delight at being home again.

While Glory Goldie was helping unload the wagon, half a dozen
children came to the gate and looked in; they did not speak; they
only pointed at her and laughed--then ran away. But in a moment or
two they came back. This time they had with them a little faded and
shrivelled old man, who strutted along, his head thrown back and
his feet striking the ground with the measured tread of a soldier
on parade.

"What a curious looking figure!" Glory Goldie remarked to the
driver as the old man and the youngsters crowded in through the
gate. She had not the faintest suspicion as to who the man was, but
she could not help noticing a person who was so fantastically
arrayed. On his head was a green leather cap, topped with a bushy
feather; round his neck he wore a chain of gilt paper stars and
crosses that hung far down on his chest. It looked as though he had
on a gold necklace.

The youngsters, unable to hold in any longer, shouted "Empress,
Empress!" at the top of their voices. The old man strode on as if
the laughing and shrieking children were his guard of honour.

When they were almost at the door of the hut Glory Goldie gave a
wild shriek, and fled into the house.

"Who is that man?" she asked her mother in a frightened voice. "Is
it father? Has he gone mad?"

"Yes," said Katrina, the tears coming into her eyes.

"Is it because of me?"

"Our Lord let it happen out of compassion. He saw that his burden
was too heavy for him."

There was no time to explain further, for now Jan stood in the
doorway, and behind him was the gang of youngsters, who wanted to
see how this meeting, which they had so often heard him picture,
would be in reality.

The Emperor of Portugallia did not go straight up to his daughter
but stopped just inside the door and delivered his speech of
welcome.

"Welcome, welcome, O queen of the Sun! O rich and beautiful Glory
Goldie!"

The words were delivered with that stilted loftiness which
dignitaries are wont to assume on great occasions. All the same,
there were tears of joy in Jan's eyes and he had hard work to keep
his voice steady.

After the well-learned greeting had been recited the Emperor rapped
three times on the floor with his imperial stick for silence and
attention, whereupon he began to sing in a thin, squeaky voice.

Glory Goldie had drawn close to Katrina. It was as if she wished to
hide herself, to crawl out of sight behind her mother. Up to this
she had kept silence, but when Jan started to sing she cried out in
terror and tried to stop him. Then Katrina gripped her tightly by
the arm.

"Leave him alone!" she said. "He has been comforted by the hope of
singing this song to you ever since you first became lost to us."

Then Glory Goldie held her peace and let Jan continue:

"The Empress's father, for his part,
Feels so happy in his heart.
Austria, Portugal, Metz, Japan,
Read the newspapers, if you can.
Boom, boom, boom, and roll.
Boom, boom."

But Glory Goldie could stand no more. Rushing forward she quickly
hustled the youngsters out of the house, and banged the door on
them. Then turning round upon her father she stamped her foot at
him. Now she was angry in earnest.

"For heaven's sake, shut up!" she cried. "Do you want to make a
laughing-stock of me by calling me an empress?"

Jan looked a little hurt, but he was over it in a twinkling. She
was the Great Empress, to be sure. All that she did was right; all
that she said was to him as honey and balsam. In the supreme
happiness of the moment he had quite forgotten to look for the
crown of gold and the field marshals in golden armour. If she
wished to appear poor and humble when she came, that was her own
affair. It was joy enough for him that she had come back.


THE FLIGHT

One morning, just a week from the day of Glory Goldie's homecoming,
she and her mother stood at the Borg pier, ready to depart for good
and all. Old Katrina was wearing a bonnet for the first time in her
life, and a fine cloth coat. She was going to Malmoe with her
daughter to become a fine city dame. Never more would she have to
toil for her bread. She was to sit on a sofa the whole day, with
her hands folded, and be free from worry and care for the remainder
of her life.

But despite all the promised ease and comfort, Katrina had never
felt so wretchedly unhappy as then, when standing there
on the pier. Glory Goldie, seeing that her mother looked troubled,
asked her if she was afraid of the water, and tried to assure her
there was no danger, although it was so windy that one could hardly
keep one's footing on the pier. Glory Goldie was accustomed to
seafaring and knew what she was talking about.

"These are no waves," she said to her mother. "I see of course that
there are a few little whitecaps on the water, but I wouldn't be
afraid to row across the lake in our old punt."

Glory Goldie, who did not seem to mind the gale, remained on the
pier. But Katrina, to keep from being blown to pieces, went into
the freight shed and crept into a dark corner behind a couple of
packing cases. There she intended to remain until the boat arrived,
as she had no desire to meet any of the parish folk before leaving.
At the same time she knew in her heart that what she was doing was
not right, since she was ashamed to be seen by people. She had one
consolation at least; she was not going away with Glory Goldie
because of any desire for ease and comfort, but only because her
hands were failing her. What else could she do when her fingers
were becoming so useless that she could not spin any more?

Then who should come into the shed but Sexton Blackie!

Katrina prayed God he would not see her and come up and ask her
where she was going. For how would she ever be able to tell him she
was leaving husband and home and everything!

She had tried to bring about some arrangement whereby Jan and she
could stay on at the croft. If the daughter had only been willing
to send them a little money--say about ten rix-dollars a month--
they could have managed fairly well. But Glory would not hear of
this; she had declared that not a penny would she give them unless
Katrina went along with her.

Katrina knew of course it was not from meanness that Glory Goldie
had said no to this. The girl had been to the trouble of fitting up
a home for her parents and had looked forward to a time when she
could prove to them how much she thought of them, and how hard she
had worked for them, and now she wanted to have with her one
parent, at least, to compensate her for all her bother. Jan had
been uppermost in her thought when she was preparing the home, for
she had been especially fond of her father in the old days. Now,
however, she felt it would be impossible to have him with her.

Herein lay the whole difficulty: Glory Goldie had taken a violent
dislike to her father. She could not abide him now. Never had he
been allowed to talk with her of Portugallia or of her riches and
power; why, she could hardly bear the sight of him decked out in
his royal trumpery. All the same Jan was as pleased with her as
ever he had been, and always wanted to be near her, though she only
ran away from him. Katrina was sure that it was to escape seeing
her crazy father that the girl had not remained at home longer than
a week.

Presently Glory Goldie, too, came into the freight shed. She was
not afraid of Sexton Blackie. Not she! She went right up to him and
began to chat. She told him in the very first breath that she was
returning to her own home and was taking her mother back with her.

Then Sexton Blackie naturally wanted to know how the father felt
about this, and Glory Goldie informed him as calmly as though she
were speaking of a stranger that she had arranged for her father to
board with Lisa, the daughter-in-law of Ol' Bengtsa. Lisa had built
her a fine new house after the old man's death, and she had a spare
room that Jan could occupy.

Sexton Blackie had a countenance that revealed no more of his
thought than he wanted to reveal. And now, as he listened to Glory
Goldie, his face was quite impassive. Just the same Katrina knew
what he, who was like a father to the whole parish, was thinking.
"Why should an old man who has a wife and daughter living be
obliged to live with strangers? Lisa is a good woman, but she can
never have the patience with Jan that his own folks had."
That was what he thought. And he was right about it, too!

Katrina suddenly looked down at her hands. After all, perhaps she
was deceiving herself in laying the blame on them. The real reason
for her desertion of Jan was this: the daughter had the stronger
will and she seemed unable to oppose her.

All this time Glory Goldie stood talking to the sexton. Now she was
telling him of their being compelled to steal away from home so
that Jan should not know of their leaving.

This had been the most dreadful part of it to Katrina. Glory Goldie
had sent Jan on an errand to the store away up in Bro parish and as
soon as he was gone they had packed up their belongings and left.
Katrina had felt like a criminal in sneaking away from the house in
that way, but Glory Goldie had insisted it was the only thing to
do. For had Jan known of where they were going he would have cast
himself in front of the wagon, to be trampled and run over. And
now, on his return, Lisa would be at the house to receive him and
of course she would try her best to console him; but still it hurt
to think of how hard he would take it when he learned that his
daughter had left him.

Sexton Blackie had listened quietly to Glory Goldie, without
putting in a word. Katrina had begun to wonder whether he was
pleased with what he had learned, when he suddenly took the girl's
hand in his and said with great gravity:

"Inasmuch as I am your old teacher, Glory Goldie, I shall speak
plainly to you. You want to run away from a duty, but that does not
say that you will succeed. I have seen others try to do the same
thing, but it has invariably resulted in their undoing."

When Katrina heard this she rose and drew a breath of relief. Those
were the very words she herself had been wanting to say to her
daughter.

Glory Goldie answered in all meekness that she did not know what
else she could have done. She certainly could not take an insane
man along to a strange city, nor could she remain in Svartsjoe, and
Jan had himself to thank for that. When she went past a house the
youngsters came running out shouting "Empress, Empress" at her, and
last Sunday at church the people in their eager curiosity to see
her had crowded round her and all but knocked her down.

"I understand that such things are very trying," said the sexton.
"But between you and your father there has been an uncommonly close
bond of sympathy, and you musn't think it can be so easily
severed."

Then the sexton and Glory Goldie went outside. Katrina followed
immediately. She had altered her mind now and wanted to talk to the
sexton, but stopped a moment to glance up toward the hill. She had
the feeling that Jan would soon be there.

"Are you afraid father will come?" asked Glory Goldie, leaving the
sexton and going over to her mother.

"Afraid!" cried Katrina. "I only hope to God he gets here before
I'm gone!" Then, summoning all her courage, she went on: "I feel
that I have done something wicked for which I shall suffer as long
as I live."

"You think that only because you've had to live in gloom and misery
so many years," said Glory Goldie. "You'll feel differently once
we're away from here. Anyhow, it isn't likely that father will come
when he doesn't even know we've left the house."

"Don't be too sure of that!" returned Katrina. "Jan has a way of
knowing all that is necessary for him to know. It has been like
that with him since the day you left us, and this power of sensing
things has increased with the years. When the poor man lost his
reason Our Lord gave him a new light to be guided by."

Then Katrina gave Glory Goldie a brief account of the fate of Lars
Gunnarson and of other happenings of more recent date, to prove to
her that Jan was clairvoyant, as folks call it. Glory Goldie
listened with marked attention. Before Katrina had tried to tell
her of Jan's kindness toward many poor old people, but to that she
had not cared to listen. This, on the contrary, seemed to impress
the girl so much that Katrina began to hope the daughter's opinion
of Jan would change and that she, too, would turn back.

But Katrina was not allowed to cling to this hope long! In a moment
Glory Goldie cried out in a jubilant voice:

"Here's the boat, mother! So after all it has turned out well for
us, and now we'll soon be off."

When Katrina saw the boat at the pier her old eyes filled up. She
had intended to ask Sexton Blackie to say a good word for Jan and
herself to Glory Goldie, but now there was no time. She saw no way
of escaping the journey.

The boat was evidently late, for she seemed to be in a great hurry
to get away again. There was not even time to put out the
gangplank. A couple of hapless passengers who had to come ashore
here were almost thrown onto the pier by the sailors. Glory Goldie
seized her mother by the arm and dragged her over to the boat,
where a man lifted her on board. The old woman wept and wanted to
turn back, but no pity was shown her.

The instant Katrina was on deck Glory Goldie put her arm around
her, to steady her.

"Come, let's go over to the other side of the boat," she said.

But it was too late. Old Katrina had just caught sight of a man
running down the hill toward the pier. And she knew who it was,
too!

"It's Jan!" she cried. "Oh, what will he do now!"

Jan did not stop until he reached the very edge of the pier; but
there he stood--a frail and pathetic figure. He saw Glory Goldie on
the outgoing boat and greater anguish and despair than were
depicted on his face could hardly be imagined. But the sight of him
was all Katrina needed to give her the strength to defy her
daughter.

"You can go if you want to," she said. "But I shall get off at the
next landing and go home again."

"Do as you like, mother," sighed Glory Goldie wearily, perceiving
that here was something which she could not combat. And perhaps
she, too, may have felt that their treatment of the father was
outrageous.

No time was granted them for amends. Jan did not want to lose his
whole life's happiness a second time, so with a bound he leaped
from the pier into the lake.

Perhaps he intended to swim out to the boat. Or maybe he just felt
that he could not endure living any longer.

Loud shrieks went up from the pier. Instantly a boat was sent out,
and the little freight steamer lay by and put out her skiff.

But Jan sank at once and never rose to the surface. The imperial
stick and the green leather cap lay floating on the waves, but the
Emperor himself had disappeared so quietly, so beyond all tracing,
that if these souvenirs of him had not remained on top of the
water, one would hardly have believed him gone.


HELD!

It seemed extraordinary to many that Glory Goldie of Ruffluck
should have to stand at the Borg pier day after day, watching for
one who never came.

Glory Goldie did not stand there waiting on fine light summer days
either! She was on the pier in bleak and stormy November and in
dark and cold December. Nor did she have any sweet and solacing
dreams about travellers from a far country who would step ashore
here in pomp and state. She had eyes and thoughts only for a boat
that was being rowed back and forth on the lake, just beyond the
pier, dragging for the body of a drowned man.

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