Look Back on Happiness Part 35

What could I say? A little of everything--a great deal, in fact:

"Well, well, child. And whom are you marrying, who is the lucky man? Nice of you to come and tell me before anyone, really very nice; thank you very much. You see I've only just come home and I haven't slept much on the journey. I was anxious to know--well, perhaps not anxious exactly--but still--You know what such a homecoming is: lots of people, noise, brr!--I hardly got any sleep. Then I came home, and then you came along--thank you for coming, Miss Ingeborg--I might be your father and you're just a child; that's why I say 'Ingeborg.' But when you told me all this, I hadn't had any sleep, I wasn't quite balanced--not enough to give you advice; I mean, I hadn't quite appreciated--But now you can quite safely-- I'd like to know, of course--Is he old? Is he young? Young, of course. I am imagining what will happen to you now, Miss Ingeborg, in your new condition. I mean, it will be so entirely different from what you've been accustomed to, but G.o.d bless you, it will all turn out for the best, I'm sure of that--"

"But you don't even know who it is!" she interrupted, looking at me apprehensively again.

"No, I don't, and I needn't if you'd rather not tell me yet. Who is it? A dapper little man, I can see that from his ring, a schoolmaster perhaps, a clever young schoolmaster--"

She shook her head.

"Then a big, good-natured man who wants to dance with you--"

"Yes, perhaps," she said slowly.

"There you are--you see I've guessed it. A bear who will carry you on his paws. On your birthday--do you know what he'll give you for your birthday?"

But perhaps I was getting too childish; I bored her, and for the first time she looked away from me, looked at a picture on the wall, then at another picture. But it was not easy for me to stop now, after having spoken hardly at all for several weeks, and feeling profoundly excited besides--heaven only knows why.

"How did you like the country?" she asked suddenly. As I could not see the drift of this question, I merely looked at her.

"Weren't you at Nikolai's mother's house?" she persisted.

"Yes."

"What is she like?"

"Are you interested in her?"

"No, I don't suppose so. Oh dear!" she sighed wearily.

"Come, come, you mustn't sound like that when you're newly engaged! What the country was like? Well, there was a schoolmaster--you know, an old bachelor, sly, and amusing. Said he knew me, and put on the most extraordinary airs the first day. And of course I returned the compliment and said I had come exclusively to meet him. 'Impossible!' he said. 'Why should it be?' I said; 'forty years a schoolmaster, a respected man, permanent churchman, chairman, indispensable everywhere!' Well, then I attended his cla.s.s. Most impressive. He talked continually; for once he had an audience, almost like a school inspection. 'You there, Peter!

Ahem,' he said. 'There was a horse and a man, and one of them was riding on the other's back. Which one was riding, Peter?' 'The man,' Peter replies. A pause. 'Well, maybe you're right, Peter--maybe the man was riding. Just like sin, like the devil riding us....'"

But she was looking at the wall again, drifting away from me again. I changed the subject clumsily:

"Of course you'd rather hear about people you know--about Tore Peak, for instance. Josephine has been in town."

"Yes, I know," she said, nodding her head.

"Remember the old man at Tore Peak? I don't think I'll ever forget him. In a certain number of years I shall be like him--perhaps not quite so old.

Then I shall be a child again with age. One day he came out, and went down to the field. I saw him; he had mittens on. You know he eats all sorts of things, and I saw him lie down and eat the hay."

She stared at me foolishly.

"But I must say he didn't look as though he had ever eaten hay before--possibly because it was rotting. It was the hay that had been left, you know--rotting down for next year--for the next tourist year."

"You seem to think," she said smiling, "that you have to cheer me up, because I'm terribly unhappy. I'm quite the reverse. Perhaps he's too good for me; that's what his sister seems to think, anyhow, because she tried to stop it. But I'm going to enjoy snubbing that sister of his. Anyhow, I'm not unhappy, and that isn't the reason I've come. I'd really much rather have him than anyone else--since I can't get the one I really want."

"You've told me this before, child--last winter, in fact. But the man you want has gone his way--besides, you said yourself that you didn't belong with him, or rather, that he didn't with you--I mean--"

"Belong? Do I belong anywhere? Do you think I belong in the place I'm going to now? I'm afraid I'm not really suitable for anybody--at least I can't think of anyone I'd suit. I wonder how I'll manage. I wonder if he'll be able to stand me. But I'll do my very best; I've made up my mind to that."

"Well, who is it--do I know him? Of course you suit each other. I can't believe you don't. He must be in love with you, quite madly in love, and you must love him in return. I'm sure you'll come through with flying colors, Miss Ingeborg, because you're capable and intelligent."

"Oh, well," she said, rising suddenly to her feet. But she hesitated over something, and seemed about to speak, then changed her mind again. At the door, she stood with her back to me, pulling on her gloves, and said:

"So you think I ought to do it?"

I was taken aback by the question, and replied:

"Ought to do it? Haven't you done it already?"

"Yes. That is--well, yes, I've done it, I'm engaged. And I can tell from your manner that I've done the right thing."

"Well, I don't know. I can't tell."

I crossed the room to her.

"Who is it?"

"Oh, G.o.d, no; let's drop it. I can't bear any more now. Good night."

She stretched her hand out fumblingly, but since she was looking at the floor, she could not find mine, and both our hands circled helplessly round each other for a moment. Then she opened the door and was gone. I called to her, begging her to wait, seized my hat, and hurried after her.

An empty staircase. I rushed down and opened the street door. An empty street. She must have run.

"I'll try to see her tomorrow," I thought.

One day, two days, but I did not see her, though I went to all the usual places. Another day--nothing. Then I thought I would go up to her home and inquire about her. At first this did not seem to me too improper, but when it came to the point, I hesitated. There is, after all, something to be lost by making a fool of oneself. But was I not a kind of uncle? No--yes, of course, but still--

A week pa.s.ses, two weeks, three. The girl has quite disappeared; I hope she hasn't had an accident. I mount the stairs to her home and ring the bell....

She's already gone away; they left as soon as they were married, last week. She's married to Nikolai, Carpenter Nikolai.

March--what a month! The winter is over, yet there's no telling how much longer it may still last. That's what March is for.

I have lived through another winter and seen the n.i.g.g.e.r entertainment at the Anglo-Saxon theater. You were there too, my friend. You saw how cleverly we all turned somersaults. Why, you even took part yourself, and you carry about a broken rib as a cherished little memento of the occasion. I saw it all from a slight distance away, ten miles, to be exact; no people were near me, but there were seven heavens above.

And pretty soon I shall be reading what the officials have to say about the year's harvest in our country; that is to say, the harvest at the theater--in dollars, and in sterling.

The waggish professor is enjoying himself, quite in his element. There he goes, self-a.s.sured and complacent, Sir Mediocrity in all his glory. By next year, he will have dragged other progressive people in his wake; he will have dressed up Norway still more, and made it still more attractive to the Anglo-Saxons. More dollars, and more sterling.

What, do I hear someone objecting?

Yes, Switzerland.

Well, then, we shall invite Switzerland to dinner and toast her thus: "Colleague, our great aim is to resemble you. Who else can squeeze so much profit out of their mountains? Who else can file at such clockwork?