Wanderers Part 24

Neurasthenia....

I reached Hersaet the following day. At first I felt like pa.s.sing by, it looked so big and fine a place; but after I had talked a bit with one of the farm-hands, I decided to try the Lensmand after all. I had worked for rich people before--let me see, there was Captain Falkenberg of vreb....

The Lensmand was a little, broad-shouldered man, with a long white beard and dark eyebrows. He talked gruffly, but had kindly eyes; afterwards, I found he was a merry soul, who could laugh and jest heartily enough at times. Now and again, too, he would show a touch of pride in his position, and his wealth, and like to have it recognized.

"No, I've no work for you. Where do you come from?"

I named some places I had lately pa.s.sed.

"No money, I suppose, and go about begging?"

No, I did not beg; I had money enough.

"Well, you'll have to go on farther. I've nothing for you to do here; the ploughing's done. Can you cut staves for a fence?

"Yes."

"H'm. Well, I don't use wooden fences any more. I've put up wire. Do bricklayer's work?"

"Yes."

"That's a pity. I've had bricklayers at work here for weeks; you might have got a job. But it's all done now."

He stood poking his stick in the ground.

"What made you come to me?"

"Every one said go to the Lensmand if I wanted work."

"Oh, did they? Well, I've always got a crowd here working at something or other--those bricklayers, now. Can you put up a fence that's proof against fowls?--For that's more than any soul on earth ever could, haha!--

"Worked for Captain Falkenberg, you said, at vreb?"

"Yes."

"What were you doing there?"

"Felling timber."

"I don't know him--he lives a long way off. But I've heard of him. Any papers from him?"

I showed him what the Captain had written.

"Come along with me," said the Lensmand abruptly. He led me round the house and into the kitchen.

"Give this man a thorough good meal--he's come a long way, and...."

I sat down in the big, well-lighted kitchen to the best meal I had had for a long time. I had just finished when the Lensmand came out again.

"Look here, you...." he began.

I got up at once and stood straight as an arrow--a piece of politeness which I fancy was not lost on him.

"No, no, finish your meal, go on. Finished? Sure? Well, I've been thinking.... Come along with me."

He took me out to the woodshed.

"You might do a bit of work getting in firewood; what do you say to that? I've two men on the place, but one of them I shall want for summoners' work, so you'll have to go woodcutting with the other. You can see there's plenty of wood here as it is, but it'll take no harm lying here, can't have too much of that sort of thing. You said you had money; let me see."

I showed him the notes I had.

"Good. I'm an official, you see, and have to know my folk. Though I don't suppose you've anything on your conscience, seeing you come to the Lensmand, haha! Well, as I said, you can give yourself a rest today, and start cutting wood tomorrow."

I set to work getting ready for the next day, looked to my clothes, filed the saw, and ground my ax. I had no gloves, but it was hardly weather for gloves as yet, and there was nothing else I was short of.

The Lensmand came out to me several times, and talked in a casual way; it amused him, perhaps, to talk to a strange wanderer. "Here, Margrethe!" he called to his wife, as she went across the courtyard; "here's the new man; I'm going to send him out cutting wood."

x.x.x

We had no special orders, but set to work as we thought best, felling dry-topped trees, and in the evening the Lensmand said it was right enough. But he would show us himself the next day.

I soon realized that the work here would not last till Christmas. With the weather we were having, and the ground as it was, frost at night and no snow, we felled a deal each day, and nothing to hinder the work; the Lensmand himself though we were devilish smart at felling trees, haha!

The old man was easy to work with; he often came out to us in the woods and chatted and made jokes, and as I never joked in return, he took me, no doubt, for a dull dog, but a steady fellow. He began sending me on errands now, with letters to and from the post.

There were no children on the place, no young folk at all save the maids and one of the farm-hands, so the evenings fell rather long. By way of pa.s.sing the time, I got hold of some tin and acids and re-tinned some old pots and kettles in the kitchen. But that was soon done. And then one evening I came to write the following letter:

"_If only I were where you are, I would work for two_."

Next day I had to go to the post for the Lensmand; I took my letter with me and posted it. I was very uneasy. Moreover, the letter looked clumsy as I sent it, for I had got the paper from the Lensmand, and had to paste a whole strip of stamps along the envelope to cover where his name was printed on. I wondered what she would say when she got it. There was no name, nor any place given in the letter.

And so we work in the woods, the other man and I, talk of our little affairs, working with heart and soul, and getting on well together. The days pa.s.sed; already, worse luck, I could see the end of our work ahead, but I had a little hope the Lensmand might find something else for me to do when the woodcutting was finished. Something would surely turn up. I had no wish to set out wandering anew before Christmas.

Then one day I go to the post again, and there is a letter for me. I cannot understand that it is for me, and I stand turning and twisting it confusedly; but the man knows me now; he reads from the envelope again and says yes, it is my name right enough, and care of the Lensmand.

Suddenly a thought strikes me, and I grasp the letter. Yes, it is for me; I forgot ... yes, of course....

And I hurry out into the road, with something ringing in my ears all the time, and open the letter, and read:

"_Skriv ikke til mig_--" [Footnote: "Do not write (skrive) to me."]

No name, no place, but so clear and lovely. The first word was underlined.

I do not know how I got home. I remember I sat on a stone by the roadside and read the letter and put it in my pocket, and walked on till I came to another stone and did the same again. _Skriv ikke_. But--did that mean I might come and perhaps speak with her? That little, dainty piece of paper, and the swift, delicate characters. Her hands had held it, her eyes had looked on it, her breath had touched it. And then at the end a dash. Which might have a world of meaning.