贝壳电子书 > 英文原著电子书 > a story from the sand-hills >

第7章

a story from the sand-hills-第7章

小说: a story from the sand-hills 字数: 每页4000字

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页,按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页,按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部!
————未阅读完?加入书签已便下次继续阅读!



    Those times were not like ours。 The common people were treated

harshly; and it was just after the days when farms were converted into

knights' estates; when coachmen and servants were often made

magistrates; and had power to sentence a poor man; for a small

offence; to lose his property and to corporeal punishment。 Judges of

this kind were still to be found; and in Jutland; so far from the

capital; and from the enlightened; well…meaning; head of the

Government; the law was still very loosely administered sometimes… the

smallest grievance Jurgen could expect was that his case should be

delayed。

    His dwelling was cold and comfortless; and how long would he be

obliged to bear all this? It seemed his fate to suffer misfortune

and sorrow innocently。 He now had plenty of time to reflect on the

difference of fortune on earth; and to wonder why this fate had been

allotted to him; yet he felt sure that all would be made clear in

the next life; the existence that awaits us when this life is over。

His faith had grown strong in the poor fisherman's cottage; the

light which had never shone into his father's mind; in all the

richness and sunshine of Spain; was sent to him to be his comfort in

poverty and distress; a sign of that mercy of God which never fails。

    The spring storms began to blow。 The rolling and moaning of the

North Sea could be heard for miles inland when the wind was blowing;

and then it sounded like the rushing of a thousand waggons over a hard

road with a mine underneath。 Jurgen heard these sounds in his

prison; and it was a relief to him。 No music could have touched his

heart as did these sounds of the sea… the rolling sea; the boundless

sea; on which a man can be borne across the world before the wind;

carrying his own house with him wherever he goes; just as the snail

carries its home even into a strange country。

    He listened eagerly to its deep murmur and then the thought arose…

〃Free! free! How happy to be free; even barefooted and in ragged

clothes!〃 Sometimes; when such thoughts crossed his mind; the fiery

nature rose within him; and he beat the wall with his clenched fists。

    Weeks; months; a whole year had gone by; when Niels the thief;

called also a horse…dealer; was arrested; and now better times came;

and it was seen that Jurgen had been wrongly accused。

    On the afternoon before Jurgen's departure from home; and before

the murder; Niels the thief; had met Martin at a beer…house in the

neighbourhood of Ringkjobing。 A few glasses were drank; not enough

to cloud the brain; but enough to loosen Martin's tongue。 He began

to boast and to say that he had obtained a house and intended to

marry; and when Niels asked him where he was going to get the money;

he slapped his pocket proudly and said:

    〃The money is here; where it ought to be。〃

    This boast cost him his life; for when he went home Niels followed

him; and cut his throat; intending to rob the murdered man of the

gold; which did not exist。

    All this was circumstantially explained; but it is enough for us

to know that Jurgen was set free。 But what compensation did he get for

having been imprisoned a whole year; and shut out from all

communication with his fellow creatures? They told him he was

fortunate in being proved innocent; and that he might go。 The

burgomaster gave him two dollars for travelling expenses; and many

citizens offered him provisions and beer… there were still good

people; they were not all hard and pitiless。 But the best thing of all

was that the merchant Bronne; of Skjagen; into whose service Jurgen

had proposed entering the year before; was just at that time on

business in the town of Ringkjobing。 Bronne heard the whole story;

he was kind…hearted; and understood what Jurgen must have felt and

suffered。 Therefore he made up his mind to make it up to the poor lad;

and convince him that there were still kind folks in the world。

    So Jurgen went forth from prison as if to paradise; to find

freedom; affection; and trust。 He was to travel this path now; for

no goblet of life is all bitterness; no good man would pour out such a

draught for his fellow…man; and how should He do it; Who is love

personified?

    〃Let everything be buried and forgotten;〃 said Bronne; the

merchant。 〃Let us draw a thick line through last year: we will even

burn the almanack。 In two days we will start for dear; friendly;

peaceful Skjagen。 People call it an out…of…the…way corner; but it is a

good warm chimney…corner; and its windows open toward every part of

the world。〃

    What a journey that was: It was like taking fresh breath out of

the cold dungeon air into the warm sunshine。 The heather bloomed in

pride and beauty; and the shepherd…boy sat on a barrow and blew his

pipe; which he had carved for himself out of a sheep bone。 Fata

Morgana; the beautiful aerial phenomenon of the wilderness; appeared

with hanging gardens and waving forests; and the wonderful cloud

called 〃Lokeman driving his sheep〃 also was seen。

    Up towards Skjagen they went; through the land of the Wendels;

whence the men with long beards (the Longobardi or Lombards) had

emigrated in the reign of King Snio; when all the children and old

people were to have been killed; till the noble Dame Gambaruk proposed

that the young people should emigrate。 Jurgen knew all this; he had

some little knowledge; and although he did not know the land of the

Lombards beyond the lofty Alps; he had an idea that it must be

there; for in his boyhood he had been in the south; in Spain。 He

thought of the plenteousness of the southern fruit; of the red

pomegranate flowers; of the humming; buzzing; and toiling in the great

beehive of a city he had seen; but home is the best place after all;

and Jurgen's home was Denmark。

    At last they arrived at 〃Vendilskaga;〃 as Skjagen is called in old

Norwegian and Icelandic writings。 At that time Old Skjagen; with the

eastern and western town; extended for miles; with sand hills and

arable land as far as the lighthouse near 〃Grenen。〃 Then; as now;

the houses were strewn among the wind…raised sand…hills… a

wilderness in which the wind sports with the sand; and where the voice

of the sea…gull and wild swan strikes harshly on the ear。

    In the south…west; a mile from 〃Grenen;〃 lies Old Skjagen;

merchant Bronne dwelt here; and this was also to be Jurgen's home

for the future。 The dwelling…house was tarred; and all the small

out…buildings had been put together from pieces of wreck。 There was no

fence; for indeed there was nothing to fence in except the long rows

of fishes which were hung upon lines; one above the other; to dry in

the wind。 The entire coast was strewn with spoiled herrings; for there

were so many of these fish that a net was scarcely thrown into the sea

before it was filled。 They were caught by carloads; and many of them

were either thrown back into the sea or left to lie on the beach。

    The old man's wife and daughter and his servants also came to meet

him with great rejoicing。 There was a great squeezing of hands; and

talking and questioning。 And the daughter; what a sweet face and

bright eyes she had!

    The inside of the house was comfortable and roomy。 Fritters;

that a king would have looked upon as a dainty dish; were placed on

the table; and there was wine from the Skjagen vineyard… that is;

the sea; for there the grapes come ashore ready pressed and prepared

in barrels and in bottles。

    When the mother and daughter heard who Jurgen was; and how

innocently he had suffered; they looked at him in a still more

friendly way; and pretty Clara's eyes had a look of especial

interest as she listened to his story。 Jurgen found a happy home in

Old Skjagen。 It did his heart good; for it had been sorely tried。 He

had drunk the bitter goblet of love which softens or hardens the

heart; according to circumstances。 Jurgen's heart was still soft… it

was young; and therefore it was a good thing that Miss Clara was going

in three weeks' time to Christiansand in Norway; in her father's ship;

to visit an aunt and to st

返回目录 上一页 下一页 回到顶部 1 0

你可能喜欢的