Part 5

All eyes turned now to the mechanic; and all were afire to know where that was. But they knew, too, that he was a dangerous man to be with and walked in dangerous paths, so no one dared be the first to open fire.

“Where was that?” was asked at once.

It was Loppen. She did not mean anything by it; it was only curiosity; the raisins were so sweet and it was so long since such things had been tendered to her.

The man of the many faces who had hitherto let his eyes run from one to the other, now addressed himself more to Elsie, while he now and then tossed a few raisins or nuts over to her, or across the table. They were seized in a trice by anxious hands; all had conceived a desire for more of the sweets which irritated without sating.

“Do you want to know where it is?” said the mechanic gaily. “Well, that don’t cost anything, my child. It is down in the corner just in front of Consul With’s house at Ellingsen and Larsen’s. The whole store is jammed full of people who buy like mad. That they do not eat themselves to death--the rich, on such a night, I can’t understand. There is sugar and syrup and butter and rice--such a world of rice--and fine Danish butter and cheese--golden, fat cheese which glistens when you cut into it.”

All leaned toward him and glared as if they would eat his words, and Loppen drew close to him. Her mouth watered at the corners and she thought she could smell that golden, fat cheese which glistened when they cut into it.

“And there are smoked sausages and hams and ale and wine--hundreds of bottles of sweet, strong wine; and there you can get as much of anything as you like if you only----have the cash.”

“Oh, the deuce!” exclaimed the tinker at the last words, and there was a general growl of dissatisfaction and displeasure; but the mechanic pretended not to notice anything and proceeded smiling and confidently, while his quick eyes glanced from one to the other and, as it were, fastened one word here and another there.

“But when you have no money, of course you don’t go into the store; what business have you there? There is another way which is much easier; it is but to push in, for there’s not a person there. But they have been so kind as to put a light down there so you can see what you want.”

“Where? Where?” was demanded impatiently. This time it was Svend whose dark gypsy eyes were aglow with excitement.

“You know the alley back of Madam Ellingsen’s house; there is no gas-light except on the corner by the bank; at the bend is the door to the cellar beneath the store.”

“Is it open?” asked the tinker.

“It certainly must be, for I only picked the lock a little and the door flew open of itself,” responded the mechanic jestingly and made a few rapid gestures with his hands.

They stared at him with astonishment and Olkonomen whispered encouragingly to Jorgen Tambur:

“Then there can be no talk about burglary.”

“But down there in the cellar, believe me, there’s enough and to spare. There stand rows of sugar-loaves; hams and sausages hang there by the dozen; and sacks of coffee which can hardly be raised from the floor. But when you cut a hole in the sack and let some run out, then its only a fair load. And up in the store there’s such a hubbub that they wouldn’t hear if we yelled ‘hurrah’ down there; and the lamp stands on the top step of the cellar stairs because the boy now and then comes down to get something. There’s lots of wine too. I brought a sample with me; its too sweet for me--taste it!” He held the bottle out to Elsie.

She took a swallow, but he stopped her; they must each have a little taste of the sweet, strong liquor; but when the flask had gone around, Elsie emptied the last drop.

It rushed through her head like fire; the strong taste inflamed her appetite; she licked her lips and looked at the others and her raging hunger began to affect them. A feverish uneasiness came over them; the young fellow put his cap on to show that he was ready, and at last Svend said half to himself:

“If any one who is well acquainted, would show us the way----”

The mechanic exchanged a hasty glance with Puppelena.

“If anything’s to be done in good shape, there must be a number at it,” he said half aloud and looked all the time at Elsie.

“We’re with you,” she cried eagerly and drew Svend forward.

“Yes--there’s no parley about it; we’re all along if the mechanic will take the lead,” said the tinker then decisively, and arose.

The man of the many faces was now altogether another man. With a few direct words he gave each man his instructions. Olkonomen, Jorgen Tambur and the young fellow were only to stand guard on the streets; the same, too, he wanted Elsie to do, but Puppelena thought that Elsie’s shawl would be good to carry things under.

So it was decided that she should meet with the others at the turn farthest down the alley as soon as possible while business was yet lively up in the shop.

One by one they stole away by different roads; Svend and Elsie went together.

When they went past Miss Falbe’s door, she pressed in between him and the wall. She had no pangs of conscience, only a burning dread of being checked. The air she had breathed among these people, the strong drink she had had a taste of, had with one blow awakened her wild defiance and transformed her into a greedy and voracious beast which amid foes and perils has to go out to steal. As noiselessly and quickly as a cat she drew Svend with her through the darkest shadows.

Old Schirrmeister sat alone once more in his imbecility and chewed away on an almond shell.

VII.

“Merry Christmas!”

“Thanks; the same to you!”

All the folks shouted to each other, smiled and bowed; no one could salute with his hat, loaded with bundles as they were.

Within the delicacy shops and toy-booths two or three rows of people were standing and leaned over each other, and the salesmen jumped about behind the counter almost like madmen.

Out on the streets it was just as crowded with children staring into the windows, although at the finest shops just where there was the most to see the window panes were so dewy from the heat inside that one had to peep in at the stripes after the drops which ran down, if he wanted to see anything.

There was a Santa Claus with snow-white beard who held a little Christmas tree on which tiny real candles were flaming. He was the most wonderful one could behold; but then there was a fastidious, half-grown girl who had been inside herself; she said it was not real snow that was scattered over the man and glistened so prettily in the tree, but only white powdered sugar, for she had tasted it.

That spoiled the Santa Claus for most of them, and there was an abnormal rush to the next most remarkable thing, a carousel which turned around. And here the group of children became so compact that the grown people could hardly get their own loose; and yet they must hurry home. The bells were no longer ringing; it was past six; they must go home and dress and then only would come the pleasantest of all!

But could anything in the world be pleasanter than to walk about in the bright streets, among all the friendly people, who shouted “Merry Christmas!” For it was not only at the windows that there was something to see, but while you walked along there was a commotion, and it turned out to be a heavy man who had fallen, for it was so dreadfully slippery.

And all the bundles which were scattered around him! You would have thought that the man was a big toy-man to be shut up, full of bundles, which now poured out because he flew open when he fell.

“Lord! Poor fellow! Let me brush you off!”

“Did you hurt yourself?”

“Oh, a little,” responded the fat man, and rubbed himself.

“It is dangerous to fall backwards,” said one.

“Especially for heavy people,” added another.

“You were lucky to get off so easily,” said a third.

“All’s well that ends well,” said the first, who was the wittiest.

“Merry Christmas,” said they all.

“Thanks; the same to you!” answered the fat man; and all helped him with the bundles, which were all presents; and the bundles were all in good condition except those which he had had in his rear pocket; but that no one could help.

“Now, we will go home,” said the larger children, and took the little ones by the hand.

Of course they would go home. There was to be the nicest of all there; the Christmas tree, the presents, the surprises; but yet--this happiness must be long. It was so nice to have such a dreadfully good time and yet have the very best to come, so that one could hardly be very anxious to reach the best of all; for then it would soon be over.

But when they came home and were dressed and washed--with little water in honor of the day--a solemnity fell upon them. The fever of expectation which had been gathering through their wild dreams for weeks and months was now at its height, had come up to the keyhole which glowed like a tiny star from all the candles which had just been lighted on the Christmas tree inside. Now there was only the door to be opened--the door to be opened--there was now nothing else which parted them from the great, the wonderful things, except this door--this door yet to open; some one was approaching from within--there was a rattle at the lock--it was moving--the door! The door was moving--it flew open--right up against the white wall they threw the door--Oh!

At Ellingsen & Larsen’s store they were as busy as ever; those who came now were little folks for the most part, who made necessary and unnecessary purchases for Christmas. Now and then the heavy trap door in the floor back in the room opened, and the youngest of the shop boys ran down to get a new supply of one thing or another.

Loppen and the others had just come inside the cellar door when the trap door was opened; the others drew out in a hurry; but she remained standing stiff from fright.

But when she saw the boy’s legs as he came down, she yet had self-possession enough to throw herself in among some sacks of flour.

While she lay there--silent, almost without breathing--she felt completely undone. Through her poor head ran in cruel clearness her whole life from fall to fall, until she lay there--degraded to the lowest stage among thieves and robbers. Now she had to die, she felt that clearly; empty and thin as she was from starvation and days of sin the fright had palsied her; she fainted. The shop boy must certainly have seen or heard something there by the door; for he looked that way all the time. But as his courage gave out, he ran up again and shut the door.

The mechanic shook Elsie; she remained on the floor.

“I thought so,” he muttered with a coarse oath. “What business had we with her?”

He stood a moment at a loss what to do; Svend and the tinker came in too. Suddenly the mechanic seized a flask on the shelf where he knew the liquors were, snapped the neck off with a dexterous blow, and poured a few drops into Elsie’s mouth.

She awakened, disturbed, surprised; then she seized the bottle and drank again.

“There, now--take a heart-strengthener. You shall have two hams under your shawl for Puppelena;” with which the mechanic went to work, loading Svend and the tinker.

What was it she was drinking? She had never tasted anything like it before. It was sweet and strong like the other liquor; but it was roses--it was roses she was drinking; roses which had followed her through youth, but which had until now been so far away. They had now come back to her once again--she drank them in long, fragrant draughts.

Like warm clothes it laid itself about her frozen limbs; all at once she became strong, her hunger was appeased, and stood up erect while a delightful, warm current streamed through her. A boundless joy welled up in her; she did not realize where she was; she thought of nothing; but there was not the faintest cloud upon the bliss she felt.

Whenever she drank it seemed as if she was sinking deeper and deeper into warm, fragrant rose-leaves, until they came together overhead, and swung her to and fro under lofty arches where roses sang and the music was fragrant with long, roseate tones which understood her misery and came to comfort her.

But the cellar door was opened from without and Olkonomen hove in sight pale and breathless. The shop boy must have noticed something, for a message had gone for the police, and two officers were already at Madame Ellingsen’s corner.

The mechanic was gone in a trice as if he had sunk in the earth. The tinker, too, ran off with what he had; Olkonomen went next, and there at the corner by the bank the long legs of Jorgen Tambur running away, were visible.

But Svend would not leave Elsie, who was standing with the empty bottle in her hand; he drew her with him toward the outlet through the alley which was yet free.

Suddenly she halted and pressed her hands tight against her bosom. Her eyes were brighter than ever; her lips were red with blood--she had cut herself on the neck of the bottle--and all her youthful beauty seemed for a moment to have returned to the little, delicate countenance; Svend stood utterly spell-bound; so beautiful she had never been.

Then she began to laugh, capriciously and merrily at first as when they were friends and all was well; then louder and louder until it was Loppen’s old laughter; that which could run up stairs and down stairs and right into people’s hearts; but constantly wilder and wilder she laughed until it went through him like a knife through the marrow of his bones.

Svend seized her to make her be quiet; but she then once more pressed her hands to her bosom, her face grew ashen, and with a long, quivering sigh she slid out of his arms and fell with her face in the snow.

Just then a policeman came running, and Svend took to his heels in the opposite direction.

* * * * *

“Merry Christmas,” said the wife of the police-chief.

“Thanks; the same to you!” answered Mrs. Bentzen.

They were standing under the big gas-light before Consul With’s entrance. There was a broadening of the streets, almost like a small market, between the consul’s house on the one side and Ellingsen & Larsen’s on the other. And as that was the central point of the town’s traffic, little by little several ladies gathered there, who had completed their purchases and their distributions. Mrs. With herself, who had just come home from the city, alit from her carriage and joined the group to exchange greetings and talk over the day.

There were not only ladies there from the Institution for Fallen Women of St. Peter’s Parish, but from the various associations of the town; and the conversation was lively indeed; partly a little triumphant, occasionally too a trifle envious, when it came to defending or advancing their own institutions, as to how much they had had to distribute. But at bottom the tone was benevolent; each was done and had a good conscience.

“Yes, you are right; it is nice to be done,” said one.

“It was such a busy day; I thought I should never be rid of my last bodice; everybody had a bodice; there were too many bodices this year.”

“But then we know too that we have accomplished something,” said Mrs. With on her side.

“Yes, there our pastor is right,” exclaimed Mrs. Bentzen. “It is just the blessed thing about Christmas that one has done his duty, given to the poor. To-day no one can complain, and it is so nice to think of it when we are enjoying ourselves.”

“And it is not less pleasant to take with us to our homes the thanks and blessings of the poor,” gently added the police-chief’s wife.

The chaplain looked with admiration at the handsome lady, and in the lofty Christmas spirit in which he found himself he would have liked at the close to address a few edifying words to the listening group of ladies, but just then Dr. Bentzen came across the street.

The old gentleman smiled with his ill-humored grin, while he said:

“Merry Christmas, ladies! Great robbery over at Ellingsen & Larsen’s. The police have just caught a couple of them.”

“Robbery! Steal! Oh, my God! Steal on Christmas Eve! Impossible! Who--who? does any one know them?”

“It can’t be any one from our town,” declared the ironing-board majestically.

“It is ‘the gang’ from Madam Speckbom’s Ark,” retorted the doctor spitefully.

“The gang!”--yes, “the gang” no one thought of; those abominable people were indeed a disgrace to the whole town.

It made a very disagreeable impression. The chaplain gave up his little speech and only sighed briefly over “the hardened sinners;” and then they parted to hasten home and to seek to recover from that blow upon Christmas festivity.

The police-chief’s wife said to Mrs. Bentzen as they walked home together:

“See how distrait I am. When your husband said: ‘Madam Speckbom’s gang’ I came within a hair of saying, ‘You mean Miss Falbe’s gang.’”

“There’s something in that, too,” responded Mrs. Bentzen and looked at the younger lady admiringly.

Miss Falbe really was running around through the town; she was hunting for Loppen. When she came home at half-past six, Christian had gone out; the whole house was empty and dark and Elsie nowhere to be found.

It was a bitter disappointment to Miss Falbe; she had been so happy in expectation of that evening, and it had never occurred to her to doubt that Elsie would come when she had promised so earnestly.

But then she happened to think that Elsie might possibly have been at the Ark at six o’clock but had gone away again as there was no light. And then she inflicted upon herself severe reproaches that she had allowed herself to remain with the woman at the mill, and especially that she had let Elsie slip away from her when she once had her hands upon her.

The streets were becoming deserted. Before the windows stood only two or three pauper children freezing; the shops were closed, except the hucksters’, which were still full of people.

As Consul With was going home, loaded down with bundles--he always had the costliest presents for his wife--he met three policemen who were carrying something long and dark between them.

“What is it, Hansen?” asked the consul.

“Oh, it’s Loppen, consul.”

“Hem! is--is she dead?”

“Only dead-drunk, I think. Merry Christmas, consul!”

“Thanks; the same to you!” answered Consul With and walked on.

As it grew quiet upon the streets, it grew livelier in the houses and the children’s laughter and shouts stretched out into the cold winter night where Miss Falbe still wandered about, each moment fancying that she saw Loppen’s shawl swing around the corner.

At last she met a policeman who also seemed to be looking for some one; he told her that “the gang” had been at burglary and Loppen had been with them.

Weary and worn out Miss Falbe walked homeward. It was in fact not so seldom that she had undergone disappointments of this kind; but this was the most painful of all; she thought so much of Elsie.

When his sister did not come according to appointment at six o’clock, Christian had gone out; but he found no one to drink with that evening, cold and forsaken as it was everywhere; so he had gone home again, cross and crusty.

His sister said nothing but set the porridge over; it was ready, it was only to be warmed. While she set the table, he teased her with reproaches and spiteful witticisms; and when she came with the porridge, it was scorched because she had forgotten to stir it.

Everything was as unpleasant as well could be; and she had been so happy in expectation of this evening. For a moment she bore up bravely; but when her grief was victorious she laid her head upon her arm and sobbed aloud.

The brother sat a little while and looked at her. He had never seen his strong sister so broken down. He began to repent and tried to find something soothing to say.

“You see, now, Augusta! You will never meet anything but disappointments and sorrow in the way you conduct yourself. If you absolutely must have these poor people to bother with, then do as the other ladies in town. Each has her own paupers to take care of; so they don’t need to bother about the others. But you throw the little you have away on the lowest trash, who don’t bear being helped--yes, perhaps you do more harm than good.”

“No, Christian, I don’t do that,” cried Miss Falbe decidedly, and raised her head. “And I will not have paupers of my own. Let the others buy off their consciences with the trifles they dole out; let them go home secure in the belief that they have done their duty by narrowing their hearts to a few individual, deserving paupers where they can see the blessing--as it goes. I see that the great gulf will never be filled, however much there is thrown into it; and this certainty is the only reward you have a right to expect for your sympathy; it drives you from depth to depth, to the worst, the vilest, where you know fresh disappointments and fresh pains await you. For I know now what to think; money, gifts, alms, they all come in good. And I am glad when they come. But all the gold in the world does not fill so much of the gulf between those who have it easy and those who have it hard, as a single drop of warm human blood. And if you have not a clod to give them, but yet can bring them to understand that you have that warm heart-blood, then you will not be afraid of disappointments, but will go from depth to depth and you will not need to look for your reward. So I shall get up early to-morrow morning and take hold where I let go.”

When she had finished her brother went over to her.

Caresses were, to tell the truth, not frequent between the two; but he took her in his arms now and kissed her.

And he whispered something in her ear. She had heard it so many times, that promise which she knew he did not have the strength to keep.

But this time she believed him; she looked up to him with that wonderful smile which made her so handsome and thanked him.

Then they sat down again, laughed, cried and talked with each other as they had not done for many years.

The porridge was scorched, it could not be gainsaid; but how good it tasted nevertheless!

VIII.

It was a genuine Christmas Eve--still and clear. White, fleecy clouds swept like angels’ wings past the bright stars and the moon which, risen late, gleamed upon the fresh snow and out across the dark blue fjord toward the sea.

Over the whole town floated a faint odor of roast goose and punch; and like distant psalms sounded the light snores of all who were sleeping near with overloaded stomachs.

The little folks slept soundly, tired out with good fortune, and dreamed of tin soldiers and candy toys.

The grown folks slept uneasily--tossed here and there, and thought a fat goose was sitting on their breasts and was rubbing lard under their noses.

But Loppen slept best of all.

* * * * *

“I think I might be left in peace Christmas Eve,” said Dr. Bentzen, testily, as he came out of the prison. “It was only what I could have told you in advance, that she would drink herself to death; and then any child could see that she was dead. Another time you can wait till morning, Hansen.”

“Pardon, doctor! but I have orders to have the death certified without delay,” answered the jailer, humbly, standing yet at the door. “Merry Christmas, doctor!”

The doctor snarled, and hurried through the empty streets to his warm bed. It was biting cold, a keen blast from the north came in from the sea.

Meanwhile the moon took possession, bit by bit, of the town and the country, scrutinized it all with her cold, indifferent eye, first on one side and then on the other; and when she had done, she laid a dark shadow over it and took hold upon the next.

In this way she came also to the prison, stole in aslant through a grated window, and there found Loppen on a cot by the wall.

Her gown stood open at the breast, because the doctor had listened for the beating of her heart, and one arm hung down toward the floor.