Erick and Sally Page 3

  CHAPTER III

  'Lizebeth on the Warpath

  On the following morning 'Lizebeth stood full of expectation at thekitchen door, and made all kinds of signs when Sally came rushing intothe living-room from breakfast. The signs were indeed understood by thechild but she had no time to go to the kitchen. She waved her school-bagand shouted in rushing by 'Lizebeth: "When I come from school; it is toolate now!" Followed by Edi and Ritz she continued her run.

  Something very particular must be in preparation, for after school allthe scholars were standing again in a dense circle, beating their handsin the air and shouting as loud as they could, to have their viewsheard. Sally, who had waited a few moments for her brothers, went onhome for she knew how long such meetings were apt to last and that herbrothers would only arrive home when the soup was being served. Sallystepped into the house and with her school-bag in her hand she wentstraight to the kitchen.

  "Now I will tell you everything that happened yesterday, 'Lizebeth," shesaid.

  'Lizebeth nodded encouragingly and Sally began, and became more and moreexcited the longer she talked. She was most excited when she came totelling about the lady and her little boy, describing the way shetalked, how she and the boy were dressed, and her aristocratic way. Butall at once 'Lizebeth jumped as if a wasp had stung her and she calledout, "What do you say, Sally? This woman wears a silk dress in themiddle of the week? Silk? And she lives at Marianne's? And the boy wearsvelvet pants and a jacket all of velvet? Well, well! I have lived tenyears with your great-grandfather and thirty with your grandfather andtwelve with your father, and I have seen your father grow up from thefirst day of his life and your little brothers. And I have known themsince they were babies and none of them ever had velvet pants on theirbody, and yet they were all ministers, your great-grandfather, yourgrandfather, your father, and the little ones will be ministers too, andnone of them ever had even a piece of velvet on them and this woman inthe middle of the week walks about in silk, yes indeed! And then takingrooms at Marianne's and living where the basket mender has lived, I tellyou, Sally, there is something behind that! But it has to come out, andif Marianne wants to help a hundred times to cover it up, I tell you,Sally, I will bring out what is behind it all. Yes, indeed, velvetpants? I wonder what we shall hear next!"

  Sally stood quite astounded before the anger-spouting 'Lizebeth, andcould not understand the cause of this outbreak. But she had enough ofit, so she turned round and hastened into the sitting-room, where,according to her expectations, at the very last moment, just when'Lizebeth came into the room with the soup tureen, the brothersappeared, in a peculiar way. At each side of 'Lizebeth one crawled intothe room, then shot straight across the room, like the birds before astorm shoot through the air so that one fears they will run their headsagainst something. Fortunately the two boys did not run their headsagainst anything, but each landed quite safely on his chair, and at once'Lizebeth placed the soup on the table; but so decidedly and with suchan angry face, as if she wanted to say: "There! If you had to put upwith what I have to, then you would not trouble about your soup."

  When she was again out of the room the father said, looking at his wife:"There will be a thunder storm, sure signs are visible." Then turning tohis sons he continued: "But what do boys deserve, who come so late totable and from pure bad conscience almost knock it over?"

  Ritz looked crestfallen into his plate, and from there in a somewhatroundabout way past his mother's plate, slyly across to his aunt, to seewhether it looked like an order to go to bed at once. And it was sobeautiful today, how beautiful the running about this evening afterschool would be!

  There was no order, for the general attention was claimed by 'Lizebeth,who with the same signs of snorting anger threw more than placed therest of the meal on the table and then grumbled herself out again.

  As soon as dinner was over the father put on his little velvet cap andwent in perfect silence out into the garden. For the storms in the housewere more unpleasant to him than those that come from the sky. As soonas he had left the room 'Lizebeth stood in the doorway, both arms akimboand looking quite warlike; she said: "I should think it would make nodifference if I were to make a call on Marianne. I should think it isfully four years since I went to see her in the Middle Lot."

  The pastor's wife had listened with astonishment to this speech, whichsounded very reproachful. Now she said soothingly: "But, 'Lizebeth, Ishould hope that you do not think that I would oppose your going toMarianne or anywhere else; or that I ever have done so. Do go as soon asyou feel like it."

  "Just as if nothing had to be done, and as if I were and had been on avisit in the parsonage at Upper Wood for fifty years and more," was theanswer. "No, no, I know what has to be done if no one else does. I canwait until Sunday afternoon; that is a time when the likes of me may goout, and if it suits the lady then, then I go, and shall not stay awayvery long. Why? I know why if no one else knows it."

  "Of course that suits me, too," the lady pacified again, "do just whatyou think best." She did not say more for she had already noticed that afire of anger was kindled in 'Lizebeth which would blaze up if anotherword fell in it. She could not imagine what had struck 'Lizebeth, butshe found it more advisable not to touch on it. So 'Lizebeth grumbledfor a little while, then she went away, since no further chance foroutbreaks was offered. But there was no peace during the whole week; allnoticed that, and each went carefully by 'Lizebeth as if she were apowder magazine which, at a careless touch, might fly up in the air atany moment. At last Sunday came. 'Lizebeth, after dinner, rushed aboutthe kitchen with such a great noise, one could notice that many thoughtswere working in her which she tried to give vent to. But she went intoher room only after everything was bright and in its place.

  She dressed herself in her Sunday-best and entered the sitting-room totake leave, just as though she was going on a long journey, for it wasan event for 'Lizebeth to leave the parsonage for several hours. Now shewandered with slow steps along the road and looked to the right and lefton the way to see what was growing in the field belonging to this orthat neighbor. But her thoughts began again to work in her; one couldsee that, for she began to walk quicker and quicker and to talk halfaloud to herself. Now she had arrived. Marianne had seen her from herlittle window and was surprised that this time 'Lizebeth was so soonkeeping her promise. For years she had promised, had sent the messagesthat she would soon come; but she had never come and now she was thereafter the message had been brought only three days ago. Marianne went tomeet her friend with a pleasant smile and welcomed her near the hedgebefore the cottage; then she conducted her guest around the cottage andup the narrow, wooden stairs. 'Lizebeth did not like this way and beforeshe had reached the top of the stairs she had to speak out.

  "Listen, Marianne," she said, "formerly one dared to come in the frontdoor and through the kitchen, but now your oldest friends have to comeby the back way, which, no doubt, is on account of the strange peoplewhom you have taken into your house. I have heard much of them and now Isee for myself that they, from pure pride, do not know what to ordernext, that you dare not go through your own house."

  "Dear me, 'Lizebeth, what queer thoughts you do have," said Marianne,quite frightened. "That is not true, no one has forbidden me anything.And the people are so good and not a bit proud, and so friendly, and sokind and humble."

  "Catch your breath, Marianne," 'Lizebeth interrupted her; "with all yourexcitement you cannot prove that white is black, and when such peoplecome along, no one knows whence, and take a living-room and a bedroom insuch a hut, so hidden as yours is, Marianne, where they pay next tonothing, and the woman struts about in a silk skirt and her little sonin velvet; then there is something behind it all, and if she has silkskirts then she must have other things too, and she must know why shehides all these things in a hut which really does not look larger than alarge henhouse. I wanted only to warn you, Marianne; you surely will bethe loser with such a crowd."

  "'Lizebeth," Marianne said now more em
phatically than she had ever beenknown to speak, "it would be well, if all people were as this woman is,and you and I could thank God if we were like her. I have never in thisworld seen a better and a more patient and a more amiable human being.And in regard to the silk skirt, please be still and do not talk aboutit, 'Lizebeth; many a thing looks different to what it really is, and itwould be better for you, if you would not load your conscience withwrong against a suffering woman on whom God has His eye."

  Marianne did not wish to tell what she knew, that the lady had only theone skirt and no other whatsoever, and so, of course, was obliged towear it. She did not want to tell that to 'Lizebeth now she heard howthe latter judged.

  "I do not think of loading my conscience with anything," 'Lizebethcontinued, "and that much is not as it looks, that I know; but when alittle boy of whom no one knows from where he came, wears velvet pantson bright week-days and even a velvet jacket, then they are velvet pantsand do not only look so, that is certain. There is something behind thatand it will come out and it will not look the best. Yes indeed, wearingvelvet pants, such a little tramp of whom no one knows from where hecomes, yes indeed."

  "Do not sin against the dear boy," Marianne said seriously. "Look at himand you will see that he looks like a little angel, and he is one."

  "So, that too," 'Lizebeth continued, "and pray when did you see anangel, Marianne, that you know he looks just like them? I should like toknow! But I have served over fifty years in a respectable house, and Ihave helped to bring up the old parson, and the present one and his twosons; but we have never known anything of velvet pants, no, never, andwe were, I should think, different people from these. That is what Iwanted to tell you, Marianne, and that is the main reason why I came toyou, so that you should know what one is forced to think. And withregard to the angels, I can tell you that we have a little boy thatlooks exactly like the angels that blow the trumpets in the picture;such fat, firm, red cheeks has our Moritzli, like painted, and suchround arms and legs."

  "Yes, it is true, little Ritz was always a splendid little fellow, Ishould like to see him again," Marianne answered good-naturedly.

  This reconciled 'Lizebeth a little; in a much friendlier tone she said:"Then come again to Upper Wood, you will have time, more than I. Thenyou can look at the other, too, and can see what a pretty, straight nosehe has, that no angel could have a prettier one, and in the whole schoolhe is by far the brightest,--that the teacher himself says of Eduardi."

  'Lizebeth always called the boys by their full names, for the shorteningof the names, Ritz and Edi, seemed to her a degrading of their names andan injustice to her favorites.

  "Yes, yes, I believe you. What a delight it must be to see such awell-ordered household and all so happy together and so joyous,"Marianne said with a sigh, and she threw a glance at the room of thestranger, and now 'Lizebeth was completely pacified, for she felt theparsonage again on the top.

  "What is the matter with the people?" she asked with compassion.

  "I do not know what to say," was the answer, "I do not understand it allmyself."

  "I thought as much, with such strangers one is never secure."

  "No, no, I did not mean anything like that," Marianne opposed. "I tellyou they are the best people one could find. I would do anything for thewoman."

  Marianne did not like to tell her friend what she knew and to consultwith her about things she could not comprehend, for 'Lizebeth hadevidently no love for the two and was full of distrust, and Marianne hadtaken them both into her heart so that she could not bear sharp remarksabout them even from her good friend. She therefore was silent and'Lizebeth could get nothing more out of her concerning her lodgers.

  During this long talk a good deal of time had passed. 'Lizebeth rosefrom the wooden bench behind the table where she and Marianne had beensitting and was about to bid good-bye. But Marianne would not allowthat, for the friend must first drink a cup of coffee; then she wasgoing to walk with her. So they did, and as the two friends wanderedtogether through the evening, they had much to tell each other and werevery talkative; only when 'Lizebeth began to talk about the strangers inMarianne's house, was the latter silent and hardly spoke. Where the roadwent into the woods, they parted, and Marianne had to promise to returnthe call as soon as possible. Then 'Lizebeth stepped out vigorously andarrived at home in such good spirits that the parson's wife resolved tosend her often to Marianne on a visit.

  When Marianne on her return came near her cottage, she heard lovelysinging; she well knew the song. Every evening at twilight the strangersat down at the piano and sang, and she sang so beautifully and with avoice that came from such depths that it touched Marianne's heart sothat she could not tear herself away when she heard the song, until itwas ended. But there was one song in particular which Marianne loved tohear and which the woman sang every day, either at the beginning or theend of her songs. It always seemed as if a great joy came into her voiceand as if she wanted to make this joy appeal to all who listened. Andyet this song touched Marianne's heart so deeply that she wept everytime she heard it. So it happened this evening. There was a log lyingbefore the house-door which served her for a resting-place when, in theevening, she wanted to get a little fresh air. She rolled it under thewindow so that she might look for a moment into the room. There sat thelady, and her large blue eyes looked up to the evening sky so seriouslyand sorrowfully, and yet there was something which sounded again like agreat joy in the beautiful song she was singing. The little boy sat on afootstool beside her and looked at his mother with his joyful, brighteyes, and listened to the singing.

  Marianne could not look long. A strange feeling came over her, and shestepped down from the log, put her apron to her eyes and wept and wept,until the singing had died away.