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Lisbeth Longfrock or Sidsel Sidsærkin

CHAPTER IX THE VISIT TO PEEROUT CASTLE Late on Saturday evening Lisbeth Longfrock went jogging slowly up over the hilly road to Hoel Farm. The milkmaid had given her leave to go to the farm and to stay away until Monday evening. She had risen early that day, for she would not think of such a thing as leaving the sæter before she had done her morning chores, and milked the goats, and let out the cows. And she had had to do this very early, not only because she was in a hurry to get away, but also because she knew that Ole would not oversleep himself after having insisted so strongly that he should take care of her flock the first day. She had barely finished when Ole came. Peter was not with him; but she had had a talk with Peter the evening before, and he was quite as well pleased to take her flock on Sunday by himself, and then on Monday he and Ole could watch all the flocks together. Ole had been very modest and ceremonious with Lisbeth as he bade her good-by. He had shaken hands and asked her to greet Jacob from him, and to say that he, Ole Hœgseth, would not keep close account of these days Lisbeth was taking, since Jacob really needed to speak with his sister. He did not know, of course, that Peter had said the very same thing the evening before. And then she had given her animals over to Ole's care and had begun her long walk down the mountain. She walked and she walked, hour after hour. She had now gone over this sæter road several times, but had never before noticed that it was so long as it seemed to-day. She rested by a brook, took out her lunch, ate it and drank some water with it, and then set out again. In order to forget how slowly time was passing, she began to count her steps, first by tens and then by hundreds, and each time she had finished counting, she looked back to see how far she had walked; but this did not avail in the least, so she made up her mind to count to a thousand. When she had counted almost up to a thousand, she could not remember whether it was eight or nine hundred she had had last, so she counted four hundred more in order to be altogether certain that she had counted enough. But even that did not make the time pass any more quickly, and she did not reach the point where she could look down into the valley until the sun was setting. The shadow had begun to creep up on the opposite side. Above the dark shadow line the slope was still bathed in the rosy evening sunlight, but the shadow steadily ate its way upward. Then Lisbeth forgot to count her steps any more. What fun it would be to try to reach the sunshine again before the shadow had passed Hoel, which lay shining so brightly up there! She went down the long slope on a run; but, run as fast as she might, it took time, and when she had reached the bottom of the valley and started up the hilly road on the other side, the sun had gone down. She could only catch its last gleam through the tops of the spruce trees, and a last tiny reflection as it left the window of Peerout Castle. She stopped to get her breath after running. It was so still and warm and close down there in the valley,—so different from what it had been up on the mountain. It seemed as if the earth sent out a deep breath the moment the sun went down,—a strange, heavy fragrance that made her, all at once, feel anxious and downhearted, just as if she had done something wrong which she could not remember. Then it came into her mind that she ought to have sent word to Kjersti Hoel that she was coming. People in the valley were always afraid that something was the matter when a person came from the sæter unexpectedly; and it would be too shameful for any one to give Kjersti Hoel a fright. That was the reason she was now jogging so slowly up over the hilly road leading to Hoel Farm. She was in hopes that some one would catch sight of her, or that at least Bearhunter would give warning of her approach; for then they would see that she was not coming in haste, and that she therefore could not be bringing any bad news. But no one caught sight of her, and no one was stirring on the farm; so she would have to go right in, after all. Yes, Kjersti Hoel was really startled when she saw her. Lisbeth had no time to offer a greeting before Kjersti said: "What in the world! Is this a mountain bird that has taken flight? There is nothing the matter at the sæter, is there?" Lisbeth made haste to answer: "Oh, no, indeed! I was to greet you from the milkmaid and say that you must not be frightened at seeing me, for everything is going very well with both man and beast. I have only come down to make a visit and meet Jacob, my brother." "God be praised!" said Kjersti. "And now you are heartily welcome." At these words all Lisbeth's downheartedness vanished, and she felt only how festive and cozy it was to be at home again. And Kjersti was in the best of humors. She gave Lisbeth something good to eat, and treated her with as much ceremony as if she had been the milkmaid herself. When the time came for Lisbeth to go to bed, Kjersti went with her all the way to the little sleeping room under the hall stairs, which looked just as neat and orderly as when she had left it. And Kjersti sat on the edge of the bed and asked after every single one of the animals,—she remembered them all. And Lisbeth told about everything. There was only one provoking thing that she shrank from confessing (it might as well be acknowledged first as last, however, for it was sure to come out sometime), and that was her mistake in naming one of the calves. She had called it Young Moolley,19 but the name had proved not at all suitable, for the calf's horns had begun to grow, although Lisbeth had done her best to prevent it by strewing salt upon them. <hr class="short"> The next day was Sunday, and Lisbeth thought it certainly began well when no less a person than Kjersti Hoel herself came out into the little hall room carrying a big tray with coffee and cakes on it, for Lisbeth to indulge in as she lay in bed. Such grandeur as that Lisbeth had never before experienced. She scarcely believed that such a thing had ever happened to the milkmaid herself. And what was more, when she hopped into her long frock Kjersti said that she must hurry up and grow, for there would be a new dress for her as soon as this one had crept up to her knees. And although Lisbeth had not said a word about where she was going to meet Jacob, it seemed just as if Kjersti knew that, too; for she made up a package with a remarkably fine lunch in it, and told Lisbeth that she must treat Jacob to some of it, because he would probably have to go back to Nordrum Sæter that evening and would not have time to come down to Hoel. But after the lunch was put up Kjersti did not seem to see any necessity for further haste. In fact, she thought that it would not be possible for Jacob to get to Peerout Castle very early, because he would have to come all the way from Nordrum Sæter that morning. So, finally, Lisbeth had to show Kjersti her letter and point out the place where it said, "You are requested to come to the meeting in good season." Then, of course, Kjersti understood that there was no time to spare. Shortly afterward Lisbeth was on her way to Peerout Castle, Bearhunter following her up the road to where the slope of birch trees began; then he turned around and jogged home with the blandest and prettiest of Sunday curls in his tail. The valley lay before her in its quiet Sunday-morning peace. No one was out on the road or in the fields. Here and there in the farmhouses across the valley could be seen a man leaning against the frame of the doorway, bareheaded, and in shirt sleeves as white as the driven snow. From all the chimneys smoke was slowly arising in the still air. Lisbeth looked involuntarily up at Peerout Castle. There everything appeared gray and desolate. No smoke ascended from its chimney; and the window eye that gazed out over the valley looked as if it was blind, for the sunlight did not shine upon it now. And that brought to mind a blind person whom Lisbeth had once seen and whose strange, empty eyes made her shiver. She felt just the same now, and her pace slackened. She did not wish to get to the house before Jacob did. When she finally reached Peerout Castle the first thing she saw was the pine branches that had been nailed to the gateposts the last time she was there. They stood in their places still, but they were dry, and the pine needles had fallen off. She glanced hastily at the door of the house. Yes, the pine trees stood there, too, just the same, but a fresher twig had been stuck in the doorlatch,—some one had evidently been there since that last day. The path that led from the gate to the door and from there over to the cow house had vanished; grass covered it. The cow-house door had fallen off, and around the doorposts had grown up tall stinging nettles. No trace was to be seen of the foot of man or beast. Lisbeth had rejoiced at the idea of coming back to her old home. It had never entered her mind that Peerout Castle could be anything but the pleasantest place in the whole world to come to. Now, on the contrary, she felt all at once very, very lonely, more lonely than when on the mountain or in the forest. She felt like one who, afraid of the dark, is obliged to walk in it; as if every step must be taken warily, that no creaking be heard. Without realizing it she veered away from the castle and the cow house, feeling that she would rather go over to the big stone by the brook, where she and Jacob used to have their playthings. Perhaps it was not so desolate there. When she came to the heather ridge she saw Jacob already sitting on the stone. At the sight of him Lisbeth felt as if there was life again in all the desolation. She was so happy that she was about to run toward him; but then she remembered that such behavior would not be suitable at a ceremonious meeting like this, and that really it was so long a time since she had seen Jacob that he was almost a stranger to her. When he saw her, he jumped down from the stone and began to brush his gray breeches with his hands and to set his cap straight,—he wore a cap with a visor now, and not a straw hat like hers. Both of them were as embarrassed as if they were entire strangers to each other, and they could not look each other in the eye while shaking hands. He made a heavy bob with his head, while she courtesied so low that her long frock drooped down to the ground. After that, each dropped the other's hand and they remained standing a long time, looking around. It was not easy to find something to say, although both had fancied that they had a great deal to talk about. At last Jacob thought of something. He looked about for quite a while longer, and then said, as if he had weighed the matter deliberately and thoroughly, "It is delightful weather to-day." "Yes, really delightful." "If it holds out a fortnight longer, it will not be bad weather for haying." "No, it will not be at all bad." "But we can scarcely expect that." "Oh, no! scarcely." Then there was silence again, for not much more could be said on that subject. Lisbeth stole a look at Jacob. She thought of saying something about his having grown so large; but then again it did not seem to her quite proper for her to speak first, he being the elder. The package of food caught her eye,—she could certainly begin to speak about that. "Kjersti Hoel sent you her greetings, and bade me ask if you would not try to put up with the lunch she has sent to-day." "Yes, thank you; but I have some with me, too." "You must be hungry after your long walk." "Yes, I can't say that I'm not." "Then we will set the table here on the stone." Little by little Lisbeth set out on the stone all the good things which Kjersti had put in the package; and then she said, as she had heard was the custom when one entertained strangers, "Be so good as to draw up your chair, Jacob." And Jacob hesitated, also according to custom, and said, "Oh, thanks! but you should not put yourself to any trouble on my account." They sat down. Ceremonious manners were kept up during the first part of the meal, and Lisbeth did not forget to say "please" whenever it was proper. But when Jacob had eaten one of Kjersti's pancakes (a large, very thin kind, spread with fresh butter or sweetmeats) and was just beginning on the second, he forgot that he was at a party, so to speak, and said quite naturally and with conviction, "That was a remarkably good pancake!" "Yes, of course; it is from Hoel." At that it was as if they suddenly knew each other again; as if it had been only yesterday that they had kneeled on the bench under the window and looked over the valley and made up their minds where they would like best to live when they went out to service; as if they had never been parted from each other. And an instant after they were in eager dispute about which was the better place to live at, Nordrum or Hoel. Agree upon that question they could not; but when Jacob's appetite had been more than satisfied he finally admitted that they were both fine places, each one in its own way, and that, at any rate, those two were the best in the whole valley. And now there was no end to all they had to talk over together and to tell each other. Jacob told about Nordrum and the Nordrum Sæter and the goats there; and Lisbeth told about Ole and Peter, and gave Jacob their greetings. She had much to tell about them both, but Jacob thought it was queer that she had more to say about Ole than about Peter; for while Ole was a straight-forward fellow, it could not be denied that he was a bit of a boaster. Then they talked about their future. Jacob was going to stay at Nordrum Farm until he was grown up, and perhaps longer. Nordrum had said that when Jacob was a grown man and married he could take Peerout Castle, with the right of buying it as soon as he was able. But Jacob thought that very likely Nordrum meant it only as a joke; and anyway it was a little early for him to be thinking about marriage. Nordrum was getting on in years, however; he would be sure to need a head man about the place by that time. Lisbeth said that she was going to stay at Hoel. She was as well off there as she could expect to be, for Kjersti was exceedingly kind to her. Lisbeth did not say anything about her ambition to become a milkmaid. Indeed, that goal was so far off that she did not dare to set her heart upon reaching it. When they had talked thus freely for a while they began to look around and call to mind all the plays they used to play and all the places they used to frequent. There, right by the castle itself, they had had their cow house with its pine-cone animals—why, yonder lay the big bull even now! And there, on the other side of the heather ridge, had been their sæter, where they had driven their animals many times during the summer. And there on the hill Jacob had had his sawmill, that Lisbeth was never to touch; and farther down she had had her dairy, where he came and bought cheese in exchange for planks made out of carrots that he had sliced in his sawmill. Not a stone or a mound could be seen the whole way up to the stony raspberry patches on Big Hammer Mountain that did not have some memory connected with it. The brother and sister now felt themselves much older than when they had lived at Peerout Castle. Lisbeth thought that Jacob had grown to be very large, and he secretly thought the same about her. It was therefore like holding a sort of festival for them to be visiting the scenes together and talking of their former life as of something long gone by, saying to each other now and then, "Do you remember?" What is talked of in that way assumes unwonted proportions and appears to be without flaw. Thus they went about the whole day,—they had even been close up to Big Hammer itself,—and it was already late in the afternoon when they again drew near Peerout Castle. They did not seem to be in any haste to reach it. They lingered by brook and stone to say, "Do you remember?" often both at once and about the same thing. They chased each other in aimless fashion. Their chief idea seemed to be to think continually of something new to do, so that there should come no silent pause, and so that the time of getting back to the castle should be put off as long as possible. Neither of them had yet mentioned a single memory connected with the castle itself or with the cow house. They had not visited either of these places yet, and they had avoided all mention of their mother. But now they knew that the time had come when these sad things could be avoided no longer. They dragged themselves slowly down over the last ridge, talking more rapidly and nervously, and with loud and forced laughter. Then suddenly their laughter ceased as if it had been cut straight across,—they had come out on the ridge just back of the cow house. They became very, very quiet, and stood awhile with heads cast down. Then they turned toward each other and their eyes met. It did not seem at all as if they had just been laughing,—their eyes were so strangely big and bright. While they stood looking at each other there came suddenly the "klunk" of a bell over from Svehaugen. At that Jacob shook his head, as if shaking himself free from something, and said in a most indifferent manner, "Do you think that is the Svehaugen bell we hear over there?" Lisbeth answered as unconcernedly as she could, "Yes, it is; I remember it." "What cow do you believe they have at Svehaugen now for their home milking?" "We could go over there and see whether it is—Bliros." That was the first time since her mother's death that Lisbeth had spoken Bliros's name aloud. But to do that was easier than to name her mother. It was not long before Lisbeth and Jacob were on their way over to Svehaugen. They had gone round the castle and the cow house without going very near them,—it was not worth while to tread down the grass, Jacob said. As they had expected, they found Bliros at Svehaugen; she was standing close by the gate. And they really thought that she knew Lisbeth again. They petted her, and talked to her, and gave her waffles and pancakes. It was just as if they wanted to make amends for not having had courage to stir up the memories connected with their old home itself. Jacob's heart was so touched at the last that he promised to buy Bliros back and give her to Lisbeth as soon as he was grown up. At that Lisbeth could contain herself no longer. She put her arms around Bliros's neck, looked at her a long time, and said, "Do you believe, Jacob, that Bliros remembers mother?" And then she began to cry. That question came upon Jacob so unexpectedly that at first he could say nothing. After a moment's struggle he, too, was crying; but he managed to declare with decision, "Yes; if she remembers any one, it certainly must be mother." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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