But the engineer did come down after me, as it turned out, though it was queer it should be so. Anyhow, it was a triumph I had not sought, and I cared nothing for it.

He came to the lodging-house to see me, and said: “I want you to come back with me, if you please, and get your money. And there’s a letter come for you by the post.”

When we stepped into the office, Fru Falkenberg was there. I was taken aback at finding her there. I made a bow and stood over by the door.

“Sit down, won’t you?” said the engineer, going to the table for my letter. “Here you are. No, sit down and read your letter while I’m reckoning up your pay.”

And Fru Falkenberg herself motioned me to a chair.

Now, what were they looking so anxious about? And what was the meaning of this sudden politeness and “Won’t you sit down?” and all the rest? I had not to wait long to find out: the letter was from Captain Falkenberg.

“Here, you can use this,” said Fruen very obligingly, handing me a letter-opener.

A simple, ordinary letter, nothing more; indeed, it began almost jestingly: I had run away from ?vreb? before he knew I was going, and hadn’t even waited for my money. If I imagined he was in difficulties and would not be able to pay me before the harvest was in — if that was why I had left in such a hurry, why, he hoped I had found out I was mistaken. And now he would be very glad if I would come back and work for him if I wasn’t fixed up elsewhere. The house and outbuildings wanted painting, then there would be the harvesting, and, after that, he would like to have me for work among the timber. Everything looking well here, fields nice and tall, meadows nice and thick. Glad to hear as soon as you can in answer to this — Yours, FALKENBERG.

The engineer had finished his reckoning. He turned on his chair and looked over at the wall. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he turned sharply to the table again. Nervousness, that was all. Fruen stood looking at her rings, but I had a feeling she was stealthily watching me all the time — thoroughly nervous, the pair of them!

Then said the engineer:

“Oh, by the way, I noticed your letter was from Captain Falkenberg. How are things going there? I knew the writing at once.”

“Would you like to read the letter?” I said promptly, offering it as I spoke.

“No — oh no. Thanks, all the same. Not in the least. I was only. . . . ”

But he took the letter, all the same. And Fruen came across to him and stood looking over his shoulder as he read.

“H’m!” said the engineer, with a nod. “Everything going on nicely, it seems. Thanks.” And he held out the letter to give it back.

Fruen’s manner was different. She took the letter from him and began studying it herself. Her hand shook a little.

“Well, now about the money,” said the engineer. “Here you are; that’s what I make it. I hope you’re satisfied all right?”

“Yes, thank you,” said I.

He seemed relieved to find that Captain Falkenberg’s letter was only about myself and made no mention of anyone else. And again he tried to soften down my dismissal.

“Well, well,” he said. “But if you should happen to be in these parts any time, you know where to find me. We’ve all but finished now for this year — there’s been too much drought just lately.”

Fruen was still holding the letter. Then I saw she had finished reading, for her eyes never moved; but she stood there, staring at the letter, thinking. What was in her mind, I wondered?

The engineer glanced at her impatiently.

“Are you learning it by heart?” he said, with a half-smile. “Come, dear, he’s waiting.”

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” said Fruen quickly. “I forgot.” And she handed me the letter.

“So it seems,” observed the engineer.

I bowed, and went out.

On a summer evening the bridge is crowded with people out walking — school teachers and tradespeople, young girls and children. I watch my time when it is getting late, and the bridge is deserted; then I can lounge over that way myself, and stay for an hour or so in the midst of the roar. No need to do anything really but listen; only my brain is so over-rested with idleness and good sound sleep, it finds no end of things to busy itself about. Last evening I determined in all seriousness to go to Fru Falkenberg and say:

“Go away from here, Frue; leave by the first train that goes.” Today I have been calling myself a fool for entertaining such a ridiculous thought, and set in its place another: “Get out of this yourself, my good man, by the first train that goes. Are you her equal, her adviser? Very well, then; see that what you do is not too utterly at variance with what you are!”

And this evening I am still treating myself as I deserve. I fall to humming a little tune, but can scarcely hear it myself! the sound is crushed to death in the roar of the water. “That’s right,” I say to myself scornfully. “You ought always to stand by a deafening foss when you feel like humming a tune.” And I laugh at myself again. With suchlike childish fancies do I pass the time.

The noise of the rapids anywhere inland is as useful to the ear as the noise of breakers on the shore. But the voice of the breakers is louder and fainter by turns. The roar of waters in a river-bed is like an audible fog, a monotony of sound beyond reason, contrary to all sense, a miracle of idiocy. “What is the time, do you know?” “Yes, isn’t it?” “Day or night?” “Yes!” As if some one had laid a stone on six keys of an organ, and walked off and left it there.

With such childish fancies do I while away the time.

“Godaften!” says Fru Falkenberg, and there she is beside me.

I hardly felt surprised; it was almost as if I had expected her. After her behaviour with her husband’s letter, she might well go a little farther.

Now I could think two ways about her coming: either she had turned thoroughly sentimental at being reminded so directly of her home once more, or she wanted to make her engineer jealous; he might perhaps be watching us from his window that very moment, and I had been sent for to go back to ?vreb?. Possibly she was thoroughly calculating, and had been trying to work on his jealousy even yesterday, when she studied the letter so attentively.

It seemed, however, that none of my clever theories was to be confirmed. It was me she wanted to see, and that only to make a sort of apology for getting me dismissed. That she should ever care about such a trifle! Was she so incapable of thinking seriously that she could not see what a miserable position she herself was in? What in the devil’s name had she to do with my affairs?

I had thought to say a brief word or so and point to the train, but something made me gentle, as if I were dealing with an irresponsible, a child.

“You’ll be going back to ?vreb? now, I suppose?” she said. “And I thought I’d like. . . . H’m! . . . You’re sorry to be leaving here, perhaps? No? No, no, of course not. But I must tell you something: It was I that got you dismissed.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“No, no. Only, I wanted to tell you. Now that you’re going back to ?vreb?. You can understand it was a little unpleasant for me at times to. . . . ”

She checked herself.

“To have me about the place. Yes, it would be unpleasant.”

“To see you here. A little unpleasant; I mean, because you knew about me before. So I asked the engineer if he couldn’t send you away. Not that he wanted to himself, you understand. Quite the reverse, in fact, but he did at last. I’m glad you’re going back to ?vreb?.”

“So?” said I. “But when Fruen comes home again surely it will be just as unpleasant to see me then?”

“Home?” she repeated. “I’m not going home.”

Pause. She had frowned as she spoke. But now she nodded, and even smiled a little, and turned to go.

“Well, well, you’ll pardon me, then, I know,” she said.

“Have you any objection to my going back to Captain Falkenberg?” I asked.

She stopped, and looked me full in the face. Now, what was the right thing here? Three times she had spoken of ?vreb?. Was it with the idea that I might put in a word for her if opportunity offered, when I got back there? Or was she unwilling to ask of me as a favour not to go?

“No, no, indeed I’ve not!” she answered. “Go there, by all means.”

And she turned and left me.

Neither sentimental nor calculating, as far as I could see. But she might well have been both. And what had I gained by my attempt at a confidential tone? I should have known better than to try, whether she stayed here or went elsewhere. What business was it of mine? ’Twas her affair.

You’re playing and pretending, I said to myself. All very well to say she’s literature and no more, but that withered soul of yours showed good signs of life when she was kind to you and began looking at you with those two eyes of hers. I’m disappointed; I’m ashamed of you, and to-morrow you go!

But I did not go.

And true it is that I went about spying and listening everywhere for anything I could learn of Fru Falkenberg; and then at times, ay, many a night, I would call myself to account for that same thing, and torture myself with self-contempt. From early morning I thought of her: is she awake yet? Has she slept well? Will she be going back home to-day? And at the same time all sorts of ideas came into my head. I might p............