Book: The Emperor of Portugalia

S >> Selma Lagerlof >> The Emperor of Portugalia




The old man rummaged and searched among the cog-wheels and springs
in his bundle. "I don't see but I'll have to get down on the floor
myself, and hunt," he said presently. "Get up, crofter-brat!"

Quick as a flash the little girl's hand shot out and closed over
the spectacle-case, which she hid under her apron.

"Up with you!" thundered Agrippa. "I believe you're lying to me.
What are you hiding under your apron? Come! Out with it!"

She promptly drew out one hand. The other hand she had kept under
her apron the whole time. Now she had to show that one, too. Then
he saw the huttered bread.

"Ugh! It's buttered bread!" Agrippa shrank back as if the girl were
holding out a rattlesnake.

"I sat eating it when you came, and then I put it out of sight for,
I know you don't like butter."

The old man got down on his hands and knees and began to search,
but to no purpose, of course.

"You must have left them where you were last," said Glory Goldie.

He had wondered about that himself, though he thought it unlikely.
At all events he could do nothing to the clock without his glasses.
He had no choice but to gather up his tools and replace the works
in the clock-case.

While his back was turned the little girl slipped the spectacles
into his bundle, where he found them when he got to Loevdala Manor--
the last place he had been to before coming to Ruffluck Croft. On
opening the bundle to show they were not there, the first object
that caught his eye was the spectacle-case.

Next time he saw Jan and Katrina in the pine grove outside the
church, he went up to them.

"That girl of yours, that handy little girl of yours is going to be
a comfort to you," he told them.


FORBIDDEN FRUIT

There were many who said to Jan of Ruffluck that his little girl
would be a comfort to him when she was grown. Folks did not seem to
understand that she already made him happy every day and every hour
that God granted them. Only once in the whole time of her growing
period did Jan have to suffer any annoyance or humiliation on her
account.

The summer the little girl was eleven her father took her to
Loevdala Manor on the seventeenth of August, which was the birthday
of the lord of the manor, Lieutenant Liljecrona.

The seventeenth of August was always a day of rejoicing that was
looked forward to all the year by every one in Svartsjoe and in Bro,
not only by the gentry, who participated in all the festivities,
but also by the young folk of the peasantry, who came in crowds to
Loevdala to look at the smartly dressed people and to listen to the
singing and the dance music.

There was something else, too, that attracted the young people to
Loevdala on the seventeenth of August, and that was all the fruit
that was to be found in the orchard at that time. To be sure, the
children had been taught strict honesty in most matters, but when
it came to a question of such things as hang on bushes and trees,
out in the open, they felt at liberty to take as much as they
wanted, just so they were careful not to be caught at it.

When Jan came into the orchard with his Glory Goldie he noticed how
the little girl opened her eyes when she saw all the fine apple
trees, laden with big round greenings. And Jan would not have
denied her the pleasure of tasting of the fruit had he not seen
Superintendent Soederlind and two other men walking about in the
orchard, on the lookout for trespassers.

He hurried Glory Goldie over to the lawn in front of the
manor-house, out of temptation's way. It was plain that her
thoughts were still on the apple trees and the gooseberry bushes,
for she never even glanced at the prettily dressed children of the
upper class or at the beautiful flowers. Jan could not get her to
listen to the fine speeches delivered by the Dean of Bro and
Engineer Boraeus of Borg, in honour of the day. Why she would not
even listen to Sexton Blackie's congratulatory poem!

Anders Oester's clarinet could be heard from the house. It was
playing such lively dance music just then that folks were hardly
able to hold themselves still, but the little girl only tried to
find a pretext for getting back to the orchard.

Jan kept a firm grip on her hand all the while and no matter what
excuse she would hit upon to break away, he never relaxed his hold.
Everything went smoothly for him until evening, when dusk fell.

Then coloured lanterns were brought out and set in the flower beds
and hung in the trees and in among the clinging ivy that covered
the house wall. It was such a pretty sight that Jan, who had never
before seen anything of that kind, quite lost his head and hardly
knew whether he was still on earth; but just the same he did not
let go of the little hand.

When the lanterns had been lighted, Anders Oester and his nephew and
the village shopkeeper and his brother-in-law struck up a song.
While they sang the air seemed to vibrate with a strange sort of
rapture that took away all sadness and depression. It came so
softly and caressingly on the balmy night air that Jan just gave up
to it, as did every one else. All were glad to be alive; glad they
had so beautiful a world to live in.

"This must be the way folks feel who live in Paradise," said a
youth, looking very solemn.

After the singing there were fireworks, and when the rockets went
up into the indigo night-sky and broke into showers of red, blue,
and yellow stars, Jan was so carried away that for the moment he
forgot about Glory Goldie. When he came back to himself she was
gone.

"It can't be helped now," thought Jan. "I only hope all will go
well with her, as usual, and that Superintendent Soederlind or any
of the other watchers won't lay hands on her."

It would have been futile for Jan to try to find her out in the
big, dark orchard: he knew that the sensible thing for him to do
was to remain where he was, and wait for her. And he did not have
to wait very long! There was one more song; the last strains had
hardly died away when he saw Superintendent Soederlind come up, with
Glory Goldie in his arms.

Lieutenant Liljecrona was standing with a little group of gentlemen
at the top of the steps, listening to the singing, when
Superintendent Soederlind stopped in front of him and set the little
girl down on the ground.

Glory Goldie did not scream or try to run away. She had picked her
apron full of apples and thought of nothing save to hold it up
securely, so that none of the apples would roll out.

"This youngster has been up in an apple tree," said Superintendent
Soederlind, "and your orders were that if I caught any apple thieves
I was to bring them to you."

Lieutenant Liljecrona glanced down at the little girl, and the fine
wrinkles round his eyes began to twitch. It was impossible to tell
whether he was going to laugh or cry in a second. He had intended
to administer a sharp reprimand to the one who had stolen his
apples. But now when he saw the little girl tighten her hands round
her apron, he felt sorry for her. Only he was puzzled to know how
he should manage this thing so that she could keep her apples; for
if he were to let her off without further ado, it might result in
his having his whole orchard stripped.

"So you've been up in the apple trees, have you?" said the
lieutenant. "You have gone to school and read about Adam and Eve,
so you ought to know how dangerous it is to steal apples."

At that moment Jan came forward and placed himself beside his
daughter; he felt quite put out with her for having spoiled his
pleasure, but of course he had to stand by her.

"Don't do anything to the little girl, Lieutenant!" he said. "For
it was I who gave her leave to climb the tree for the apples."

Glory Goldie sent her father a withering glance, and broke her
silence. "That isn't true," she declared. "I wanted the apples.
Father has been standing here the whole evening holding onto my
hand so I shouldn't go pick any."

Now the lieutenant was tickled. "Good for you, my girl!" said he.
"You did right in not letting your father shoulder the blame. I
suppose you know that when Our Lord was so angry at Adam and Eve it
wasn't because they had stolen an apple, but because they were
cowards and tried to shift the blame, the one onto the other. You
may go now, and you can keep your apples because you were not
afraid to tell the truth."

With that he turned to one of his sons, and said:

"Give Jan a glass of punch. We must drink to him because his girl
spoke up for herself better than old Mother Eve. It would have been
well for us all if Glory Goldie had been in the Garden of Eden
instead of Eve."



BOOK TWO

LARS GUNNARSON

One cold winter day Eric of Falla and Jan were up in the forest
cutting down trees. They had just sawed through the trunk of a big
spruce, and stepped aside so as not to be caught under its branches
when it came crashing to the ground.

"Look out, Boss!" warned Jan. "It's coming your way."

There was plenty of time for Eric to have escaped while the spruce
still swayed; but he had felled so many trees in his lifetime that
he thought he ought to know more about this than Jan did, and stood
still. The next moment he lay upon the ground with the tree on top
of him. He had not uttered a sound when the tree caught him and now
he was completely hidden by the thick spruce branches.

Jan stood looking round not knowing what had become of his
employer. Presently he heard the old familiar voice he had always
obeyed; but it sounded so feeble he could hardly make out what it
was saying.

"Go get a team and some men to take me home," said the voice.

"Shan't I help you from under first?" asked Jan.

"Do as I tell you!" said Eric of Falla.

Jan, knowing his employer to be a man who always demanded prompt
obedience, said nothing further but hurried back to Falla as fast
as he could. The farm was some distance away, so that it took time
to get there.

On arriving, the first person Jan came upon was Lars Gunnarson, the
husband of Eric's eldest daughter and prospective master of Falla,
which he was destined to take over upon the decease of the present
owner.

When Lars Gunnarson had received his instructions he ordered Jan to
go straight to the house and tell the mistress of what had
occurred; then he was to call the hired boy. Meantime Lars himself
would run down to the barn and harness a horse.

"Perhaps I needn't be so very particular about telling the
womenfolk just yet?" said Jan. "For if they once start crying and
fretting it will only mean delay. Eric's voice sounded so weak from
where he lay that I think we'd best hurry along."

But Lars Gunnarson, since coming to the farm, had made it a point
to assert his authority. He would no more take back an order once
given than would his father-in-law.

"Go into mother at once!" he commanded. "Can't you understand that
she must get the bed ready so we'll have some place to put him when
we come back with him?"

Then of course Jan was obliged to go inside and notify the
mistress. Try as he would to make short work of it, it took time to
relate what had happened and how it had happened.

When Jan returned to the yard he heard Lars thundering and swearing
in the stable. Lars was a poor hand with animals. The horses would
kick if he went anywhere near them and he had not been able to get
one of the beasts out of its stall the whole time that Jan had been
inside talking with the housewife.

It would not have been well for Jan had he offered to help Lars.
Knowing this he went immediately on his other errand, and fetched
the hired boy. He thought it mighty strange that Lars had not told
him to speak to Boerje, who was threshing in the barn close by,
instead of sending him after the hired boy, who was at work out in
the birch-grove, a good way from the farmyard.

And while Jan ran these needless errands, the faint voice under the
spruce branches rang in his ears. The voice was not so imperative
now, but it begged and implored him to hasten. "I'm coming, I'm
coming!" Jan whispered back. He had the sensation of one in a
nightmare who tries to run but who cannot take a step.

Lars had at last managed to get a horse into the shafts. Then the
womenfolk came and told him to be sure to take along straw and
blankets. This was all very well, but it meant still further delay.

Finally Lars and Jan and the hired boy drove away from the farm.
But they had got no farther than to the edge of the forest, when
Lars stopped the horse.

"One gets sort of rattled when one receives news of this kind,"
said he. "I never thought of it till just now--but Boerje is back at
the barn."

"It would have been well to have taken him along," said Jan, "for
he's twice as strong as any of us."

Then Lars sent the hired boy back to the farm to get Boerje; which
meant a long wait.

While Jan sat in the sledge, powerless to act, he felt as though
within him opened a big, empty ice-cold void. It was the awful
certainty that they would be too late!

Then at last came Boerje and the boy, all out of breath from
running, and now they drove on into the woods. They went very
slowly, though, for Lars had harnessed the old spavined bay to the
sledge. What he had said about his being rattled must have been
true, for all at once he wanted to turn in on the wrong road.

"If you go in that direction, we'll come to Great Peak," Jan told
him; "and we must get to the woods beyond Loby."

"Yes, I know," returned Lars, "but farther up there's a crossroad
where it's better driving."

"What road might that be? I've never seen it."

"Wait, and I'll show you," said Lars, determined to continue up the
mountain.

Now Boerje sided with Jan, so Lars had to give in of course; but
precious time had been consumed while they argued with him, and Jan
felt as if all the life had &one out of his body.

"Nothing matters now," thought he. "Eric of Falla will be beyond
our help when we arrive."

The old bay jogged along the forest road as well as it could, but
it had not the strength for a heavy pull like this. It was poorly
shod, and stumbled time after time. When going uphill the men had
to get down from the sledge and walk, and when they came upon
trackless unbeaten ground in the thick of the forest the horse was
almost more of a hindrance than a help.

At all events they got there finally. Strange to say, they found
Eric of Falla in fairly good condition; he was not much hurt and no
bones were broken. One of his thighs had been lacerated by a
branch, and there he had an ugly wound; still it was nothing but
what he could recover from.

When Jan went back to his work the next morning he learned that
Eric had a high fever and was suffering intense pain. While lying
on the frozen ground he had caught a severe cold, which developed
into pneumonia, and within a fortnight he was dead.


THE RED DRESS

The summer the young girl was in her seventeenth year she went to
church one Sunday with her parents. On the way she had worn a
shawl, which she slipped off when she came to the church knoll.
Then everybody noticed that she was wearing a dress such as had
never before been seen in the parish.

A travelling merchant, one of the kind that goes about with a huge
pack on his back, had found his way to the Ashdales, and on seeing
Glory Goldie in all the glow and freshness of her youth he had
taken from his pack a piece of dress goods which he tried to induce
her parents to buy for her. The cloth was a changeable red, of a
texture almost like satin and as costly as it was beautiful. Of
course Jan and Katrina could not afford to buy for their girl a
dress of that sort, though Jan, at least, would have liked nothing
better.

Fancy! When the merchant had vainly pressed and begged the parents
for a long while he grew terribly excited because he could not have
his way. He said he had set his heart on their daughter having the
dress, that he had not seen another girl in the whole parish who
would set it off as well as she could. Whereupon he had measured
and cut off as much of the cloth as was needed for a frock, and
presented it to Glory Goldie. He did not want any payment, all he
asked was to see the young girl dressed in the red frock the next
time he came to Ruffluck.

Afterward the frock was made up by the best seamstress in the
parish, the one who sewed for the young ladies at Loevdala Manor,
and when Glory Goldie tried it on the effect was so perfect that
one would have thought the two had blossomed together on one of the
lovely wild briar bushes out in the forest.

The Sunday Glory Goldie showed herself at church in her new dress,
nothing could have kept Jan and Katrina at home, so curious were
they to hear what folks would say.

And it turned out, as has been said, that everybody noticed the red
dress. When the astonished folk had looked at it once they turned
and looked again; the second time, however, they glanced not only
at the dress but at the young girl who wore it.

Some had already heard the story of the dress. Others wanted to
know how it happened that a poor cotter's lass stood there in such
fine raiment. Then of course Katrina and Jan had to tell them all
about the travelling merchant's visit, and when they learned how it
had come about they were all glad that Fortuna had thought of
taking a little peep into the humble home down in the Ashdales.

There were sons of landed proprietors who declared that if this girl
had been of less humble origin they would have proposed to her then
and there. And there were daughters of landed proprietors--some of
them heiresses--who said to themselves that they would have given
half of their possessions for a face as rosy and young and radiant
with health as hers.

That Sunday the Dean of Bro preached at the Svartsjoe church,
instead of the regular pastor. The dean was an austere, old
fashioned divine who could not abide extravagance in any form,
whether in dress or other things.

Seeing the young girl in the bright red frock he must have thought
she was arrayed in silk, for immediately after the service he told
the sexton to call the girl and her parents, as he wished to speak
with them. Even he noticed that the girl and the dress went well
together, but for all that he was none the less displeased.

"My child," he said, laying his hand on Glory Goldie's shoulder, "I
have something I want to say to you. Nobody could prevent me from
wearing the vestments of a bishop, if I so wished; but I never do
it because I don't want to appear to be something more than what I
am. For the same reason you should not dress as though you were a
young lady of quality, when you are only the daughter of a poor
crofter."

These were cutting words, and poor Glory Goldie was so dismayed she
could not answer. But Katrina promptly informed him that the girl
had received the cloth as a gift.

"Be that as it may," spoke the dean. "But parents, can't you
comprehend that if you allow your daughter to array herself once or
twice in this fashion she will never again want to put on the kind
of clothes you are able to provide for her?"

Now that the dean had spoken his mind in plain words he turned
away; but before he was out of earshot Jan was ready with a retort.

"If this little girl could be clothed as befits her, she would be
as gorgeous as the sun itself," said he. "For a sunbeam of joy she
has been to us since the day she was born."

The dean came back and regarded the trio thoughtfully. Both Katrina
and Jan looked old and toil worn, but the eyes in their furrowed
faces shone when they turned them toward the radiant young being
standing between them.

Then the dean felt it would be a shame to mar the happiness of
these two old people. Addressing himself to the young girl, he said
in a mild voice:

"If it is true that you have been a light and a comfort to your
poor parents, then you may well wear your fine dress with a good
grace. For a child that can bring happiness to her father and
mother is the best sight that our eyes may look upon."


THE NEW MASTER

When the Ruffluck family came home from church the Sunday the dean
had spoken so beautifully to Glory Goldie they found two men
perched on their fence, close to the gate. One of the men was Lars
Gunnarson, who had become master of Falla after Eric's death, the
other was a clerk from the store down at Broby, where Katrina
bought her coffee and sugar.

They looked so indifferent and unconcerned sitting there that Jan
could hardly think they wanted to see him; so he simply raised his
cap as he went past them into the house, without speaking.

The men remained where they were. Jan wished they would go sit
where he could not see them. He knew that Lars had harboured a
grudge against him since that ill-fated day in the forest and had
hinted more than once that Jan was getting old and would not be
worth his day's wage much longer.

Katrina brought on the midday meal, which was hurriedly eaten. Lars
Gunnarson and the clerk still sat on the fence, laughing and
chatting. They reminded Jan of a pair of hawks biding their time to
swoop down upon helpless prey. Finally the men got down off the
fence, opened the gate, and went toward the house.

Then, after all, they had come to see him!

Jan had a strong presentment that they wished him ill. He glanced
anxiously about, as if to find some earner where he might hide.
Then his eyes fell on Glory Goldie, who also sat looking out
through the window, and instantly his courage came back.

Why should he be afraid when he had a daughter like her? he
thought. Glory Goldie was wise and resourceful, and afraid of
nothing. Luck was always on her side, so that Lars Gunnarson would
find it far from easy to get the best of her!

When the two men came in they seemed as unconcerned as before. Yet
Lars said that after sitting so long on the fence looking at the
pretty little house they had finally taken a notion to step inside.

They lavished praises upon everything in the house and Lars
remarked that Jan and Katrina had reason to feel very thankful to
Eric of Falla; for of course it was he who had made it possible for
them to build a home and to marry.

"That reminds me," he said quickly, looking away from Jan and
Katrina. "I suppose Eric of Falla had the foresight to give you a
deed to the land on which the hut stands?"

Neither Jan nor Katrina said a word. Instantly they knew that Lars
had now come to the matter he wanted to discuss with them.

"I understand there are no papers in existence," continued Lars,
"but I can't believe it is so bad as all that. For in that event
the house would fall to the owner of the land."

Still Jan said nothing, but Katrina was too indignant to keep
silent any longer.

"Eric of Falla gave us the lot on which this house stands," she
said, "and no one has the right to take it away from us!"

"And no one has any intention of doing so," said the new owner in a
pacifying tone. He only wanted to have everything regular, that was
all. If Jan could let him have a hundred rix-dollars by October
fairtime--

"A hundred rix-dollars!" Katrina broke in, her voice rising almost
to a shriek.

Lars drew his head back and tightened his lips.

"And you, Jan, you don't say a word!" said Katrina reproachfully.
"Don't you hear that Lars wants to squeeze from us one hundred
rix-dollars?"

"It won't be so easy, perhaps, for Jan to come up with one hundred
rix-dollars," returned Lars Gunnarson, "but just the same I've got
to know what's mine."

"And so you're going to steal our hut?"

"Nothing of the kind!" said Lars. "The hut is yours. It's the land
I'm after."

"Then we can move the hut off of your land," said Katrina.

"It would hardly be worth your while to go to the bother of moving
something you'll not be able to keep."

"Well, I never!" gasped Katrina. "Then you really do mean to lay
hands on our property?"

Lars Gunnarson made a gesture of protest.

No, of course he did not want to put a lien on the house, not he!
Had he not already told them as much? But it so happened that the
storekeeper at Broby had sent his clerk with some accounts that had
not been settled.

The clerk now produced the bills and laid them on the table.
Katrina pushed them over to Glory Goldie and told her to figure up
the total amount due.

It was no less than one hundred rix-dollars that they owed!

Katrina went white as a sheet. "I see that you mean to turn us out
of house and home," she said, faintly.

"Oh, no," answered Lars, "not if you pay what you owe."

"You ought to think of your own parents, Lars," Katrina reminded
him. "They, too, had their struggles before you became the son-in-law
of a rich farmer."

Katrina had to do all the talking, as Jan would not say anything;
he only sat and looked at Glory Goldie--looked and waited. To his
mind this affair was just something that had been planned for her
special benefit, that she might prove her worth.

"When you take the hut away from the poor man he's done for,"
wailed Katrina.

"I don't want to take the hut," said Lars Gunnarson, on the
defensive. "All I want is a settlement."

But Katrina was not listening. "As long as the poor man has his
home he's as good as anybody else, but the homeless man knows he's
nobody."

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