Irretrievable (25 page)

So powerfully was Holk affected by the contents of this letter that he abandoned any thought of reading the other two: Petersen's was probably in a similar vein. What is more, it was now time for him to present himself before the Princess and he feared that, in any case, he might have difficulty in concealing his emotion. He would certainly have failed to do so if, when he had appeared, everything had been as usual and the Princess's eye as sharp as it normally was. Fortunately this was not the case, for she, too, had meanwhile received a letter which was greatly preoccupying her mind and which robbed her of the power to be concerned by Holk's own behaviour.

The letter
received by the Princess was from the gentleman-in-waiting Baron Blixen-Fineke and ran thus:

Her first thought on reading this note had been to leave the field free before the arrival of the King and return to Copenhagen within the next twenty-four hours. Once the King had arrived, such a retreat would be much more difficult, if not impossible, since, in view of the excellent personal relations between nephew and aunt, it would be too obvious that the Princess merely wished to avoid being under the same roof as the hated Countess Danner. So a rapid decision was essential and the question “departure or not” was the problem occupying the Princess and her suite, particularly Ebba, who saw more hope than fear in the possibility of an immediate return, for however finely developed her feeling for nature and however pleasant she found Schleppegrell, in spite of an occasional revulsion against his perpetual antiquarianizing, all in all the capital was considerably more to her taste; there you could hear the news at least six hours earlier and in addition have a box at the theatre every evening. The vast gallery at Fredericksborg was certainly a magnificent specimen of its style, and the play of light and shadow on the walls and ceiling was pleasantly romantic and a little uncanny, but one could hardly continue staring at Herluf Trolle with the same interest for six hours from dusk till bed-time and even less at the big naval battle and the explosion in the
Immaculate
.

Had it been Ebba's choice, therefore, an immediate return would have been rapidly decided; but the Princess, who through sheer superstition was not anxious to leave a place that she had become accustomed to regard as her Christmas residence, remained hesitant in a manner quite out of character and was therefore glad when Holk remarked: “With your permission, Your Highness, is it quite definite that the countess will accompany the King? As far as I know, the King has always shown nothing but the greatest consideration for your Highness and not only knows but also respects your feelings. It's true that he does not allow himself for that reason to be swayed in his affections nor indeed is it in his power, if people are right when they talk of a sort of witch's spell which Danner has cast over him, but surely it's possible for him to retain his affection for the Danner woman and still leave her behind in Skodsborg. He can then visit her every day, which perhaps suits him better than having her with him from morning till night. Surely the time must be past, even if it ever existed, when he felt the need to throw her loving glances at all hours of the day.”

“Who knows,” laughed the Princess. “You see, my dear Holk, this spell is a sort of intermittent fever and there are said to be days when he is free from it. But I don't see it like that at all, a real spell never fails or comes to an end. Anyway, pass me Blixen-Fineke's letter again, Ebba my dear, I want to read what he says carefully. He is a man who is very punctilious in his choice of words.”

Ebba passed the letter and the Princess read: “… only a few persons of his immediate entourage will accompany him; perhaps Colonel du Plat, certainly Captain Westergaard and Captain Lundbye …” “Holk is right; Blixen-Fineke knows too well how matters stand not to have given at least a hint. The countess will clearly not be coming and my nephew and I are on excellent terms: he is a very kindly soul and the nicest man in the world. In any case, there's no need to think about leaving today. In all probability, Berling will be writing and he will express himself less diplomatically than Fineke.”

And in fact, the following day, a letter did come from the gentleman-in-waiting Berling, confirming the impending arrival of the King, but at the same time offering complete reassurance with regard to the countess. In accordance with her own wish, the countess was taking up residence in Skodsborg and would receive the King's visits there. So all hesitation was now at an end and it was decided to stay; but even had the opposite decision been taken, an insuperable obstacle would have stood in the way of its execution, for the Princess now fell ill. The nature of her illness remained obscure but whatever it was (there was talk of a hidden non-malignant nervous fever), Dr. Bie from Hilleröd called three times a day and partook regularly of the luncheon served for those attached to the Princess's court and of most other meals as well. This Dr. Bie was the brother of Frau Schleppegrell whose shortness, stoutness, and shrewd, friendly eyes he shared, as well as the favour of the Princess. He carried a gold-topped cane and wore gold-rimmed spectacles, which he regularly removed whenever he wished to see anything; he took one's pulse in a loud voice, like a piano-teacher counting the beat, and he enjoyed chatting about Iceland and Greenland, where he had been ship's doctor for fourteen years and to whose inhabitants he was in general very well disposed. “In Copenhagen people usually laugh at the Icelanders; but how about Are Marson, who discovered America five hundred years before Columbus, and Eric the Red and Ulf Squinteye and all his gallant band? Heroes and sages every one, and Icelanders every one of them. I'm only sorry that your Royal Highness has never visited the island. It is quite a strange feeling to eat an egg boiled in a geyser, perhaps at the very moment that it is spitting fire as well. The idea that Icelanders read our papers twelve months later, day for day, is merely a piece of conceit on the part of the Copenhageners; the Icelanders have their own newspapers and every other day an English or an American boat puts in and if there is an election for a town or even just a parish councillor, it's quite as interesting as when they elect the new mayor of Copenhagen. Ah, your Highness, I am tempted to say that we should stop making all these differences between villages and palaces; wherever they live, people go on loving and hating and it makes very little difference whether a singer can hold a trill for a whole minute or a fiddler play the ‘Valiant Soldier Lad,' at least as far as I am concerned.” With remarks such as these he could be certain of enlisting the Princess's highly amused approval and when Pentz and Ebba asked whether her Royal Highness would really not prefer her own private doctor, Dr. Wilkins, who in any case had nothing to do and ought to be reminded, now and again, that he was drawing his salary for a mere sinecure, the Princess refused, saying: “No, I am not yet at death's door and if I were, I don't think Wilkins, who reads everything and knows practically nothing, would be likely to save me. Bie is doing everything a man can do for me and after I have been listening to him for half an hour and sat beside him in his reindeer sleigh or eaten raspberry fool with the missionary Dahlstrom, then I have had exactly what is meant by the expression ‘a doctor's healing presence';
medico praesente
, I believe they call it. No, Bie must stay. And what would his sister say to such an insult, my dear little pastor's wife who considers him as famous as
Boerhave and is firmly convinced that a letter addressed to Dr. Bie, Europe, from the North Pole or the South Pole, would arrive without fail at its destination.”

The Princess's illness, although not dangerous, dragged on. The King had meanwhile arrived and had taken up residence with his suite in the left wing of the castle. He restricted himself, as far as the Princess was concerned, to inquiring every day after her state of health. Otherwise, one was hardly aware of his presence, a fact partly due to his frequent visits to Skodsborg and partly to his other pastimes: he was a great lover of all outdoor sports. If he was not out with the hounds, he was deer-stalking and if he was not digging out badgers, then he was excavating barrows and between-whiles he went over to Vinderöd and Arreseedal, where he kept his yachts, to go sailing on the large lake of Arre.

Holk had known Captain Westergaard and Captain Lundbye very well in Schleswig and Flensburg, where they had been temporarily in garrison, and he now renewed his acquaintance with them, which gave him from time to time a few hours pleasant chat, but as soon as he was alone again, his thoughts went at once to what was happening in Holkenäs and he was overcome by a feeling of embarrassment. Things could not continue as they were. Not only had all correspondence between him and Christine ceased but Petersen's and Arne's letters had remained unanswered. He would, in any case, have to answer the latter, for a week had already passed since its arrival; if he did not, then he risked offending the one man who had always been his best friend and counsellor and, perhaps too often, his advocate in his earlier minor clashes with Christine.

He was not on duty today, the weather was bright and clear and Dr. Bie, on his way from the Princess, had called on him and entertained him with some amusing Hilleröd gossip and a medical story or two. Holk was anxious not to waste such an opportunity, for being in a good mood was half the battle. And after all, what was all the trouble about? Christine was a woman with less geniality than was desirable and more principles than were necessary. This was now an established fact that nobody, not even Christine herself, would deny. Holk continued to address himself on these lines for some while and when he had finally succeeded in persuading himself that, seen in perspective, the whole affair was merely a mole-hill that had been made into a mountain and that there was really nothing to worry about at all, he finally sat down at his desk and wrote:

Putting down his pen, he took the sheet of paper to the window to read through, line by line, what he had just written. He found much to criticize and when this or that displeased him, he muttered to himself: “almost as dogmatic as Christine”; but the conclusion about the special sense of righteousness pleased him and even more the passage about his having been robbed of his sense of innocence because as soon as anyone was once under suspicion, however innocent, he was vulnerable to attack by misgivings and even self-reproaches. His eye dwelt as if spellbound on these words, until finally his satisfaction waned and all he could see in them was the confession of his own wrong.