a story from the sand-hills-第7章
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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