Mysteries (29 page)

“Do you flatly refuse to be reasonable?” she said abruptly. “You promised.”

“Yes, I probably did; I don’t know, but maybe I promised to be reasonable. I’m so poor at it, though. All right, I’ll be reasonable, you can trust me. But how shall I go about it, can you tell me that? Teach me how.
¹
You know, one day I was on the verge of forcing my way into the parsonage, opening the doors and going straight in even if there were other people present! But I’ve also done all I can to stand fast, I assure you; I’ve even slandered you, trying to destroy your power over me by discrediting you in the eyes of others. I didn’t do it out of revenge, oh no; you see, I’m really close to going under. I did it to raise myself up, to learn to clench my teeth so as not to stoop too low in my own eyes. That’s why I did it. But I don’t quite know if it was any use.
²
I also tried to leave, I really did; I began to pack my things but didn’t quite finish, nor did I leave. How could I? Instead, I would rather follow you, if you weren’t here. And even if I never found you, I would still go after you and keep searching, hoping to find you at last. And if I realized it was no use, I would lower and lower my hopes, so that in the end I would be sincerely grateful simply to have a chance to meet someone who might have been close to you at one time, a woman friend who had shaken your hand or received a smile from you in the good old days. That’s what I would do. So how could I leave? Besides, it’s summer, this whole forest is my church and the birds know me; they look at me every morning when I come, cock their heads and look at me, and the next moment they start the music. And I’ll never forget how the flags were flying all over town for you the evening I arrived; it made the most powerful impression on me. In fact, I was moved to a mysterious sympathy and, half stunned, I walked about the ship watching the flags before deciding to step ashore. Ah, some evening that was! ... But I’ve also enjoyed many a delightful moment here since; I walk the same paths as you every day, and sometimes I may be lucky enough to see your footprints on the path, as I did today, and then I wait for you until you come by again—I slip into the woods and lie down behind a rock to wait for you. I’ve seen you twice since I last talked to you, and once I waited for six hours before you came. I lay behind the rock all those six hours; I didn’t get up simply for fear you might turn up and see me. God knows where you were keeping yourself for so long that day—”

“I was at the Andresens’,” she said of a sudden.

“That may be; I did see you when you finally came. You weren’t alone, but I saw you quite clearly and greeted you under my breath from behind the rock. God knows what thoughts flashed through your mind at that moment, for you turned your head and glanced at the rock—”

“Now listen—. Why, you start as though I were going to read your death sentence—”

“But you are, I see that very well, your eyes turned ice-cold.”

“This must really come to an end, Mr. Nagel! If you think it over, you must see for yourself that you aren’t behaving very nicely toward the absent party either. Isn’t that so, if you put yourself in his place—quite apart from your making it so unpleasant for me? What do you want me to do? Let me tell you once and for all: I won’t break my promise,
I love him.
There, that ought to be clear enough. So be a little careful; I really can’t walk with you unless you show me some consideration. I’m telling you this straight out.”

She was upset; her lips quivered and she made every effort to hold back her tears. When Nagel remained silent she added, “You’re welcome to walk me home, all the way home, if you like, as long as you won’t make it uncomfortable for both of us. I would be grateful if you told me a story; I love to hear you talk.”

“Certainly,” he said promptly, in the loud, perfectly exultant voice of a windbag who could let himself go,
³
“certainly, as long as I can come with you! I’ll make sure to—. Oh, how bracing, how you positively bolster me up when you’re angry with me.... ”
⁴

For quite a while they talked about trivial matters. They were walking with small steps and so slowly that they made barely any progress.

“What fragrance, what fragrance!” he said. “Look how the grass and the flowers are shooting up after the rain! I wonder, are you interested in trees? It’s curious, but I feel a mysterious kinship with every tree in the forest. It is as though I once belonged to the forest; as I look around, a recollection seems to flash through my entire being. Ah, stop for a moment! Listen! Listen to the birds, how gaily they’re greeting the sun with their song! They are wildly delirious—they almost fly in our faces, not looking where they’re going.”

They walked on.

“I still catch myself thinking of that pretty picture you described to me of the boat and the blue silk sail in the shape of a half-moon,” she said. “It was so beautiful. When the sky is high and seems far away, I see myself rocking about up there, fishing with a silver hook.”

It made him happy to learn that she still remembered his Midsummer Eve reverie, his eyes grew moist and he replied warmly, “You’re right, it would really suit you better than me to sit in a boat like that.”

When they were about halfway into the forest, she was careless enough to ask, “How long will you be staying here?”

She regretted it immediately and would have liked to take it back, but was quickly reassured when he smiled and avoided a direct answer. She was grateful to him for his tact, he must have noticed her difficulty.

“I’ll be staying where you are, of course,” he replied.... “I’ll stay here until I run out of money,” he then said. And he added, “But it won’t be too long.”

She looked at him, also smiling, and asked, “It won’t be too long? But you’re rich, I’ve heard?”

His face assumed its old secretive expression as he answered, “Am I rich? Look, there seems to be a story going around town that I am a capitalist, that among other things I own an estate of considerable value. That’s not true, I ask you not to believe it, it’s humbug. I have no estate, in any case it’s extremely small and not even all mine, since I own it jointly with my sister; besides, it’s totally eaten up by debt and all kinds of mortgages. That’s the truth.”

She laughed mistrustfully.

“Well, you always tell the truth, of course, when you talk about yourself,” she said.

“You don’t believe me? You have doubts? Then let me tell you—though I find it humiliating—let me tell you the truth of the situation. You should know that the first day I was in town I walked thirty miles—I went on foot all the way to the next town and sent myself three telegrams from there concerning a large sum of money and a farm in Finland. Then I left the three telegrams open on the table in my room for several days, so that each and everyone in the hotel could read them. Do you believe me now? So isn’t it all humbug about my money?”

“Provided you aren’t telling another lie about yourself.”

“Another lie? You’re mistaken, Miss Kielland. By God in heaven, I’m not lying! So there!”

Pause.

“But why did you do it, why did you send those telegrams to yourself?”

“Now that would be a rather long story, if I were to give the whole picture.... Well, as a matter of fact, I did it simply to show off, to attract attention in town. Heh-heh-heh, to speak plainly.”

“Now you’re lying!”

“I’ll be damned if I am!”

Pause.

“You are a strange person. What you mean to achieve, God only knows. One moment you go around making—well, you don’t even shrink from making me the most ardent confessions; but as soon as I put in a few words to make you see reason, you immediately turn around and present yourself as the worst charlatan, a liar and a cheat. You might as well save your pains; one thing makes as little impression on me as the other. I’m just a plain person; all that ingenuity is above my head.”

She had taken offense all of a sudden.

“I wasn’t trying to show any special ingenuity right now. All is lost anyway, so why should I make an effort?”

“But why, then, are you telling me all these terrible things about yourself whenever you have a chance?” she cried passionately.

Slowly, in full control of himself, he replied, “To influence you, Miss Kielland.”

Again they stopped and stared at one another. He continued, “I had the pleasure of telling you a few things about my method once before. You ask me why I even let out secrets which are damaging to me and could have been kept hidden. I reply, As a matter of policy, out of calculation. You see, I bank on the possibility that my candor will make some impression on you, despite your denial. Anyway, I can well imagine you might feel a certain respect for the devil-may-care nonchalance with which I give myself away. Maybe I’m making a mistake, that’s possible, then it can’t be helped. But even if I’m making a mistake, you’re still lost to me and I have nothing more to lose. One can get to such a pass that one becomes desperate and takes a gamble. I help you to contrive accusations against me and thus do my humble best to strengthen you in your resolve to send me away, always away. Why do I do it? Because it goes against the grain of my humble soul to speak in my own favor and to profit by that kind of shabbiness, I couldn’t make it pass my lips. But—you might say—I try in this way to achieve by cunning and devious means what others achieve by a shabby directness? Ah—. However, I won’t defend myself. Call it humbug, why not? That’s fine, very apt; I’ll even add that it is the crudest sort of fakery. All right, so it’s humbug, and I don’t defend myself; you’re right, my whole nature is humbug. But, you know, everyone is more or less caught up in humbug, so may not one kind of humbug be just as good as another, since at bottom it’s all humbug anyway? ... I feel I’m getting into my element, I have nothing against riding one of my hobbyhorses for a moment. However, I won’t; good heavens, how tired I am of it all! I say, Let it pass, just let it pass, period.... Now, who would suspect, for instance, there was anything wrong with the Stenersens? I’m not saying there is anything wrong, and therefore I also merely ask if it would occur to anyone to suspect there was something wrong with that respectable family. There are only the two of them, man and wife, no children, no serious worries, and yet there may be a third person. God only knows, but perhaps when all is said and done there is one more person, besides the man and wife, a young person, a much too warm friend of the family, Mr. Reinert, the deputy. Well, what can one make of it? There may be faults on both sides. The doctor may even be wise to the situation and yet be powerless to do anything about it. In any case, he drank hard last night and showed such a devil-may-care attitude to everything, to the whole world, that he proposed the human race should exterminate itself with Prussic acid and let the show go on. Poor man! ... But he’s hardly the only one who is knee-deep in humbug, even if I exclude myself, Nagel, who is steeped in humbug to the waist. What if I mentioned Miniman, for example? A dear soul, a just man, a martyr! Everything that’s good is on his side, but I’ve got my eye on him. I’m telling you, I’ve got my eye on him! You appear to be surprised? Have I alarmed you? I didn’t mean to. Anyway, let me set your mind at rest at once by saying that nobody can get at Miniman, he’s truly righteous. Then why don’t I let him out of my sight? Why do I watch him from around the corner at two o’clock in the morning when he returns home from an innocent walk—at two in the morning? Why do I snoop on him from front and back when he carries his sacks around and greets people in the street? For no reason, bless me, no reason! He just interests me, I like him, and I’m very happy right now to be able to present him as someone pure and just in the midst of all the humbug otherwise. That’s why I mentioned him, and I’m quite sure you understand. Heh-heh-heh.... But to come back to myself—. Well, no, I don’t really want to come back to myself, anything but that!”

This last exclamation was so genuine, so rueful, that it made her feel sorry for him. She knew at that moment that she had to do with a torn and tormented soul. However, when he immediately took care to efface this impression, as he suddenly laughed coldly apropos of nothing and swore once again that everything was sheer humbug, her friendly feelings instantly left her. She said sharply, “You dropped some hints about Mrs. Stenersen which didn’t need to be half as crude to be base. You also scored a cheap point by ridiculing Miniman, a poor cripple. That was really mean, so vulgar!”

She started walking again and he kept pace with her. He didn’t answer but went on, his head bowed. His shoulders twitched a few times, and to her surprise she saw one or two big tears trickling down his face. He turned away and whistled to a songbird to hide them.

They walked for a couple of minutes without speaking. Touched, she bitterly regretted her harsh words. Maybe he was even right in what he said, what did she know? She couldn’t help wondering whether this person hadn’t seen more in a few weeks than she had in years.

They still didn’t talk. He was again quite composed and toyed nonchalantly with his handkerchief. In a few minutes they would be in sight of the parsonage.

Then she said, “Is your hand very sore? May I see it?”

Whether she wanted to please him or really gave in to him for a moment, she said this in a sincere, almost emotional voice, meanwhile stopping.

Then his passion ran away with him. At this moment, when she was standing so close, her head leaning over his hand so that he could take in the fragrance of her hair and the nape of her neck, and without a word being said, his love reached the point of frenzy, of madness. He drew her close, first with one arm and then, when she resisted, with his other arm as well, pressing her long and fervently to his breast and almost lifting her off her feet. He felt her back yield, she was giving in. Heavy and delicious, she rested in his embrace, her eyes half veiled as she looked up at his. Then he spoke to her, telling her she was enchanting, and that she would be his one and only love till his dying day. One man had already given his life for her, and he would do the same, at the slightest hint, a word. Oh, how he loved her! And he repeated time and again, as he pressed her more and more tenderly to his breast, “I love you, I love you!”