Part 5

"Now you can see our young men," she said to Camilla. "We mustn't expect too much of them. Over there sits my fiancé talking about elk-shooting and here is the poet deep in thought.... Say something, poet!"

He gave a start; the veins in his temples swelled.

"Very well. You want me to say something? Very well."

"Oh, not if it's such an effort."

She was going already.

"To come straight to the point," he said slowly, smiling, but with a quiver in his voice; "to begin right in the middle--have you been in love lately, Miss Victoria?"

For a few seconds there was dead silence; all three could hear their hearts beating. Camilla put in timidly:

"Of course Victoria is in love with her fiancé. She is just engaged, don't you know that?"

The doors to the dining-room were thrown open.

* * * * *

Johannes found his place and was standing by it. The whole table heaved up and down before his eyes, he saw a crowd of people and heard a buzz of voices.

"Yes, that's right, that is your place," said the hostess kindly. "If only everybody would sit down."

"Excuse me!" said Victoria suddenly, just behind him.

He stepped aside.

She took his card and moved it several places down, seven places down, beside an old man who had once been tutor at the Castle and who was supposed to drink. She brought back another card and sat down.

The hostess, much upset, found something to do on the other side of the table and avoided looking at him.

His confusion became even worse than before and he withdrew bewildered to his new place; his first seat was occupied by one of Ditlef's friends from town, a young man with diamond studs in his shirt-front. On his left sat Victoria, on his right Camilla.

And the dinner began.

The old Tutor remembered Johannes as a boy and a conversation was started between them. He said that he too had written poetry in his young days, he had kept his manuscripts, Johannes could read them some day. Now they had sent for him on this great occasion that he might participate in the joy of the family over Victoria's engagement. The Master and Mistress of the Castle had given him this surprise for the sake of old friendship.

"I have read nothing of yours," he said; "I read myself when I want to read anything; I have a drawer full of poems and tales. They are to be published when I am dead; after all, I should like the public to know what manner of man I was. Ah yes, we who are somewhat older in the craft are not in such a hurry to rush into print as they are nowadays. Your health!"

The meal wore on. The Master rapped on his glass and stood up. His thin, aristocratic face was alive with emotion and he gave the impression of being very happy. Johannes bent his head low. There was nothing in his glass and nobody gave him anything; he filled it himself to the brim and bent down again. Now for it!

The speech was long and eloquent and was received with joyful cheers; the engagement was announced. From all parts of the table good wishes poured in upon the daughter of the Castle and the Chamberlain's son.

Johannes emptied his glass.

A few minutes later his agitation had vanished, his calm had returned; the champagne glowed softly through his veins. He heard that the Chamberlain also made a speech and that there were more bravos and hurrahs and clinking of glasses. Once he looked towards Victoria's place; she was pale and seemed distressed; she did not look up. But Camilla nodded to him and smiled and he nodded back.

The Tutor by his side went on talking:

"It's a fine thing, it's a fine thing when two young people come together. It did not fall to my lot. I was a young student, fine prospects, great gifts; my father had an ancient name, a great home, wealth, many, many ships. So I think I may say I had _very_ fine prospects. She was young too and belonged to the best set. I come to her and open my heart. _No_, she answers. Can you understand her? No, she wouldn't, she said. So I did what I could, I went on with my work and took it like a man. Then came my father's bad years, wrecks, liabilities--to make a long story short, he went bankrupt. What did I do then? Took it like a man again. And now she positively didn't hold back any longer, the girl I'm talking about. She came back, hunted me up in town. What did she want with me, you may ask? I was a poor man, I had got a little job as a teacher, all my prospects had vanished and my poems were thrown into a drawer--and now she came and said yes. Said yes!"

The Tutor looked at Johannes and asked:

"Can you understand her?"

"But then it was you who wouldn't have it?"

"_Could_ I, I ask you? Cleaned out, stripped, a teacher's job, one pipe of tobacco on Sundays--what are you thinking of? I couldn't do her such a wrong. But all I say is: can you understand her?"

"And what became of her afterwards?"

"Good Lord, you don't answer my question! She married a captain. That was the year after. A captain in the artillery. Your health!"

Johannes said:

"They say some women are always looking for an object for their compassion. If the man is getting on well they hate him and think themselves superfluous; if things go against him and he is down they crow over him and say: here I am."

"But why didn't she accept me in the good days? I had the prospects of a little god."

"Goodness knows. She wanted to wait till you were brought low."

"But I wasn't brought low. Never. I kept my pride and sent her about her business. What do you say to that?"

Johannes said nothing.

"But perhaps you're right," said the old Tutor. "Yes, by God and all his angels, what you say is right," he exclaimed with sudden excitement and took another drink. "She took an old captain at last; she nurses him, cuts up his food for him and is master of the house. A captain in the artillery."

Johannes looked up. Victoria sat with her glass in her hand staring in his direction. She held her glass high in the air. He felt a shock all through him and seized his glass too. His hand shook.

Then she called aloud to his neighbour and laughed; it was the Tutor's name she called.

Johannes put down his glass in humiliation and sat with an embarrassed smile on his face. Everybody had looked at him.

The old Tutor was touched to tears by this friendly attention of his pupil's. He made haste to empty his glass.

"And here I am, an old man," he continued, "here I am tramping the earth, alone and unknown. That has been my lot. Nobody knows what there is in me; but nobody has ever heard me grumble. How is that?--do you know the turtledove? Isn't it the turtledove, that melancholy being which makes the gay, bright spring water muddy before it drinks it?"

"I don't know."

"No, I dare say not. But it is. And I do the same. I did not get her whom I should have had; but I am not altogether without joys for all that. Only I stir up the mud in them. Every time I stir up the mud. Then I can't be beaten by the disappointment afterwards. There you see Victoria. She drank with me just now. I have been her tutor; now she's to be married and I'm glad about it, it gives me a purely personal sense of happiness as if she was my own daughter. Now perhaps I shall be tutor to her children. Oh yes, there are really a number of joys left in life. But what you said about compassion and woman and the man brought low--the more I think about it, the more you are right. Yes, God knows you are.... Excuse me a second."

He got up, seized his glass and went along to Victoria. He was already a little unsteady on his legs and stooped a great deal.

More speeches were made, the Lieutenant made one, the neighbour Laird gave the toast of the ladies, the Lady of the house. Suddenly the young man with the diamond studs got up and spoke Johannes' name. He had received permission for what he was doing, he wanted to hail the young poet in the name of the young. His words were most friendly, a kindly expression of thanks from contemporaries, full of appreciation and admiration.

Johannes hardly believed his own ears. He whispered to the Tutor:

"Is it me he's talking about?"

The Tutor answered:

"Yes. He's forestalled me. I was going to do it myself; Victoria asked me to some hours ago."

"Who asked you to, did you say?"

The Tutor stared at him.

"Nobody," he said.

During the speech the eyes of all were turned upon Johannes; even the Master nodded to him, and the Chamberlain's Lady put up her glasses and looked at him. When the speech was finished they all drank.

"Give it him back now," said the Tutor. "He stood up and made you that speech. It ought to have fallen to one who is your senior in the craft. Besides, I didn't agree with him at all. Not at all."

Johannes looked along the table to Victoria. It was she who had got the young man with the diamond studs to speak; why had she done it? First she had applied to another about it, quite early in the day she had had it in her thoughts; why had she? Now she sat looking down and not a muscle of her face betrayed her.

Suddenly his eyes were bedewed with a deep and violent emotion, he could have thrown himself at her feet and thanked her, thanked her. He would do it later, after dinner.

Camilla sat talking to right and left and smiling all over her face. She was pleased, her seventeen years had brought her nothing but happiness. She nodded again and again to Johannes and made signs to him to get up.

He got up.

He spoke briefly, his voice sounded deep and stirred: On this occasion, when the House was celebrating a joyful event, he too--who was entirely outside the circle--was drawn from his obscurity. He wished to thank the originator of this amiable suggestion and the speaker who had addressed to him so many agreeable words. But at the same time he could not fail to appreciate the kindness with which the whole company had listened to his--the outsider's--praise. The only claim he had to be present on this occasion was that he was the son of the Castle's neighbour....

"Yes!" Victoria cried suddenly, with flaming eyes.

Everybody looked at her, her cheeks were red and her breast heaved up and down. Johannes broke off. A painful silence ensued.

"Victoria?" said her father in surprise.

"Go on!" she cried again. "That is your only claim; but go on!" The light in her eyes went out abruptly, she began to smile helplessly and shake her head. Then she turned to her father and said: "I only meant to exaggerate things. You see, he's exaggerating himself. No, I won't interrupt...."

Johannes listened to this explanation and found a way out of the difficulty; his heart was beating audibly. He noticed that Victoria's mother was looking at her with tears in her eyes and with infinite forbearance.

Yes, he had exaggerated, he said; Miss Victoria was right. She had been so kind as to remind him that he was not only their neighbour's son, but also the playmate of the Castle children, and it was to this latter circumstance he owed his presence here. He thanked her, that was how it was. He belonged to the place, the Castle woods were once his whole world, beyond them loomed the unknown country, fairyland. But in those days he would often have a message from Ditlef and Victoria that they wanted him to join them in an excursion or a game--those were the great events of his childhood. Later, when he had thought over it, he was bound to acknowledge that those hours had had a significance in his life which no one knew of, and if it was true--as they had just heard--that what he wrote had sometimes a _flame_ in it, that was because the memories of that time kindled him; it was the reflection of that happiness his two playmates had bestowed on him in childhood. Therefore they also had a great share in what he produced. To the general good wishes on the occasion of the engagement he would therefore add his personal thanks to both the Castle children for the good years of childhood, when neither time nor things had come between them, the glad, short summer day....

A speech, a regular attempt at a speech. It was not amusing, but it didn't go so badly, the company drank, went on eating and took up their conversation again. Ditlef remarked dryly to his mother:

"I never knew it was really me that had written his books, what?"

But his mother did not laugh. She drank with her children and said:

"Thank him, thank him. It was very easy to understand, when he was so lonely as a child.... What are you doing, Victoria?"

"I'm going to send the maid to him with this sprig of lilac for my thanks. Mayn't I?"

"No," answered the Lieutenant.

* * * * *

After dinner the company scattered themselves about the rooms, the big balcony and even the garden. Johannes went down to the ground floor and entered the garden room. It was not empty, there were a couple of men smoking, the Laird and another, and they were talking in undertones about the Master's finances. His land was neglected, choked with weeds, the fences were down, the timber shockingly thinned; it was said he even had difficulty in paying the astonishingly high insurances on the buildings and their contents.

"How much is the place insured for?"

The Laird mentioned the sum, a whacking sum.

For that matter money was never considered at the Castle, the sums were always big there. What did a dinner like this cost, for instance? But now according to all accounts the bottom had been reached, even of their hostess's famous jewel-case, and so the son-in-law's money would have to refill the coffers.

"What's he worth, do you suppose?"

"Oh tut! there's no counting it."

Johannes got up again and went out into the garden. The lilacs were in bloom, a fragrant wave of auricula, narcissus, jasmine and lily-of-the-valley swept round him. He found a corner by the wall and sat down on a stone; a shrub hid him from all eyes. He was worn out by emotion, thoroughly fagged, and his wits were clouded; he thought of getting up and going home, but sat on in dull apathy. Then he heard a murmur on the pathway, some one was coming; he recognized Victoria's voice. He held his breath and waited a moment; then he caught a glimpse of the Lieutenant's uniform through the leaves. The engaged couple were walking together.

"It doesn't seem to me," he was saying, "that this will hold water. You listen to what he says, you hang on to every word of his speech and then shout out. What does it all mean?"

She stopped and stood before him at her full height.

"Do you want to know?" she asked.

"Yes."

She was silent.

"It's all the same to me if it meant nothing," he went on. "Then you needn't tell me."

She collapsed again.

"No, it didn't mean anything," she answered.

They began to walk again. The Lieutenant shrugged his epaulettes nervously and said aloud:

"He'd better look out, or he might feel an officer's hand about his ears."

They went in the direction of the summer-house.

Johannes remained seated on the stone for some time, in the same dull pain as before. It was all becoming indifferent to him. The Lieutenant had taken it into his head to suspect him and his fiancé immediately began to defend herself. She said what had to be said, calmed the officer's heart, and walked on with him. And the starlings chattered on the boughs above their heads. Very well. God vouchsafe them a long life.... He had made her a speech at the dinner and torn his heart out; it had cost him sorely to make good and cover up her insolent interruption and she had not thanked him for doing so. She had seized her glass and drunk. Here's your good health, look at me and see how nicely I drink.... By the bye, you should always look at a woman from the side when she's drinking. Let her drink of a cup, a glass, anything you like, but look at her from the side. It's shocking to see what an air she gives herself. She purses up her mouth and dips the extreme tip of it into the drink and she gets desperate if you watch her hand while she is doing it. You must never in any circumstances look at a woman's hand. She can't stand it, she capitulates. She begins at once to draw in her hand, to pose it more and more elegantly, always with the object of concealing a wrinkle, a crookedness of the fingers or a rather misshapen nail. At last she can bear it no longer and asks, quite beside herself: what are you looking at?... She had once kissed him, once, one summer. It was so long ago, God knew if it was even true. How was it, weren't they sitting on a bench? They talked a long time and when they walked away he came so close to her that he touched her arm. On a staircase she had kissed him. I love you, she said.... Now they had gone past, perhaps they were still sitting in the summer-house. The Lieutenant would give him a box on the ears, he said. He heard it quite plainly, he was not asleep, but still he did not get up and come forward. An officer's hand, he said. Oh well, it didn't matter to him....

He rose from the stone and went after them to the summer-house. It was empty. Up in the verandah of the house stood Camilla calling for him: Come along, there was coffee in the garden room. He followed her. The engaged couple were sitting in the garden room; several others were there besides. He took his coffee, retired and found a place.

Camilla began talking to him. Her face was so bright and her eyes looked at him so frankly that he could not resist her; he talked too, answered her questions and laughed. Where had he been? In the garden? What a story! Why, she'd looked for him in the garden and couldn't find him. Oh no, he hadn't been in the garden.

"Was he in the garden, Victoria?" she asked.

Victoria answered:

"No, I didn't see him."

The Lieutenant threw her a glance of annoyance, and to give his fiancé a lesson he called over to the Laird in a needlessly loud voice:

"Didn't you say you'd let me join your shoot?"

"Yes, of course," answered the Laird. "You're welcome."

The Lieutenant looked at Victoria. She said nothing and sat as before, making no attempt to keep him from joining the Laird's shooting party. His face clouded over more and more, he pulled nervously at his mustache.

Camilla addressed another question to Victoria.

Then the Lieutenant rose hastily and said to the Laird:

"All right then, I'll go with you this evening, at once."

With that he left the room.

The Laird and a few others followed.

There was a short pause.

Suddenly the door was thrown open and the Lieutenant came in again. He was greatly excited.

"Have you forgotten something?" asked Victoria, getting up.

He danced about by the door as if unable to stand still and then went straight up to Johannes and gave him a blow with his hand as though in passing. After that he ran back to the door and danced about again.

"Look out, man, you hit me in the eye," said Johannes with a hollow laugh.

"You're mistaken," answered the Lieutenant, "I gave you a box on the ears. Understand? Understand?"

Johannes pulled out his handkerchief, dried his eye, and said:

"You don't mean that. You know I can double you up and put you in my pocket."

As he said it he stood up.

Then the Lieutenant hurriedly opened the door and stepped outside.

"I do mean it!" he yelled back. "I do mean it, you clown!"

And he slammed the door.

Johannes sat down again.

Victoria was still standing near the middle of the room. She was looking at him and was as pale as a corpse.

"Did he hit you?" asked Camilla in the greatest astonishment.

"By accident. He got me in the eye. Would you like to look?"

"Heavens, it's all red, there's blood. No, don't rub it, let me bathe it with water. Your handkerchief is too coarse, look here, take it back; I'll use my own. Did you ever hear such a thing, right in his eye!"

Victoria held out her handkerchief too. Then she went quite slowly to the glass door and stood there with her back to the room, looking out. She was tearing her handkerchief into little strips. A few minutes later she opened the door and left the room quietly and without saying a word.

IX

Camilla came walking down to the Mill, frank and cheerful. She was alone. She went straight into the little room and said with a titter:

"Excuse me for not knocking. The stream makes such a roar that I thought it was no use." She looked about her and exclaimed: "How awfully nice it is here, charming! Where's Johannes? I know Johannes. How's his eye?"

She got a chair and sat down.

Johannes was fetched from the mill. His eye was sore and bloodshot.

"I've come of my own accord," said Camilla as soon as she saw him; "I wanted to come down here. You must go on using cold water for your eye."

"It's all right," he answered. "But, God bless you, what brought you here? Would you like to see the mill? Thanks for coming!" He took his mother round the waist and brought her forward and said: "Here is my mother."

They went into the mill. The old Miller took off his cap with a low bow and said something; Camilla didn't hear what it was, but she smiled and said at random:

"Thanks, thanks. Yes, I should like so much to see it."

The noise frightened her, she held Johannes' hand and glanced up at the two men with big, listening eyes in case they should say something. She looked like a deaf person. All the wheels and machinery of the mill filled her with astonishment, she laughed, shook Johannes' hand in her excitement and pointed in all directions. The mill was stopped and started again so that she might see it.

Even for a good while after she had left the mill Camilla talked in a comically loud voice, as though the noise were still in her ears.

Johannes walked with her back to the Castle.

"Can you imagine his daring to hit you in the eye?" she said. "But then he went off at once, he left with the Laird to go shooting. It was a frightfully unpleasant thing to happen. Victoria didn't sleep a wink all night, she told me."

"Then she'll be able to sleep tonight," he answered. "When do you think you'll be going home again?"

"Tomorrow. When are you coming to town?"

"In the autumn. Can I meet you this afternoon?"

She exclaimed:

"Oh yes, do! You told me about your cave; you must show me that."

"I'll come and fetch you," he said.

On his way home he sat for a long while on a stone and pondered. A warm and happy idea had flashed upon him.

* * * * *

In the afternoon he walked up to the Castle, stopped outside and sent in a message for Camilla. While he stood waiting Victoria appeared for an instant at one of the first-floor windows; she stared down at him, turned round and disappeared into the room.

Camilla came out and he took her to the quarry and the cave. He was in an unusually calm and happy mood, the young girl amused him, her light, cheerful talk fluttered about him like little blessings. Today the good spirits were near....

"I remember, Camilla, that you once gave me a dagger. It had a silver sheath. I put it away in a box with a lot of other things, as I had no use for it."

"No, you had no use for it; but what then?"

"Well, you see, I've lost it."

"Oh I say, that was unlucky. But perhaps I can get a pair to it somewhere. I'll try."

They walked towards home.

"And do you remember the big medallion you gave me once? It was a thick, heavy gold one and stood in a frame. You had written some kind of words on it."

"Yes, I remember."

"Last year while I was abroad I gave away that medallion, Camilla."

"Oh no, you didn't? Fancy your giving it away! Why did you?"

"It was a young friend of mine who had it as a souvenir. He was a Russian. He fell on his knees and thanked me for it."

"Was he so glad as that? Oh, I'm sure he must have been wildly glad if he fell on his knees! You shall have another medallion instead of it to keep for yourself."

They had come to the road that ran between the Mill and the Castle.

Johannes stopped and said: