O. T., A Danish Romance Part 25

"That would be requiring too much from you!" said Sophie, bantering him.

"You will never have his humor, his facility in catching up character.

You will only preach against the depravity of the Parisians; you will only be able to appreciate the melancholy grandeur of Switzerland and the solitude of the Hungarian forests."

"You would make a misanthrope of me, which I by no means am."

"But you have an innate talent for this character!" answered Sophie.

"Something will certainly be polished away by this journey, and it is on account of this change that I rejoice."

"Must one, then, have a light, fickle mood to please you?" asked Otto.

"Yes, certainly!" answered Sophie, ironically.

"Then it is true what your cousin told me!" said Otto. "If one will be fortunate with the ladies, one must at least be somewhat frivolous, fond of pleasure, and fickle,--that makes one interesting. Yes, he has made himself acquainted with the world, he has experience in everything!"

"Yes, perfectly!" said Sophie, and laughed aloud.

Otto was silent, with contracted brow.

"I wish you suns.h.i.+ne!" said Sophie, and smiling raised her finger. Otto remained unchanged--he wrinkled his brow.

"You must change very much!" said she, half gravely; and danced out of the room.

Three weeks pa.s.sed by, rich in great events in the kingdom of the heart; it was still a diplomatic secret: the eyes betrayed it by their pantomimic language, the mouth alone was silent, and it is after all the deciding power.

Otto visited the merchant's family. Maren had departed just the day before. In vain had she awaited his visit throughout the three weeks.

"You quite forget your true friends!" said the ladies. "Believe us, Maja was a little angry with you, and yet we have messages. Now she is sailing over the salt sea."

This was not precisely the case; she was already on land, and just at this moment was driving over the brown heath, thinking of Copenhagen and the pleasures there, and of the sorrow also--it is so sad to be forgotten by a friend of childhood! Otto was so handsome, so clever--she did not dream at all how handsome and clever she herself would appear at home. Beauty and cleverness they had discovered in her before she left; now she had been in the capital, and that gives relief.

The little birds fluttered round the carriage; perhaps they sang to her what should happen in two years: "Thou wilt be a bride, the secretary's lovely little bride; thou shalt have both him and the musical-box!

Thou wilt be the grandest lady in the town, and yet the most excellent mother. Thy first daughter shall be called Maja--that is a pretty name, and reminds thee of past days!"

CHAPTER x.x.xI

"The monastery is still called 'Andersskov' (the wood of Anders) in memory of its being the habitation of the pious Anders.

"The hill on which he awoke, comforted by sleep, is still called 'Hvile hoi' (the hill of rest). A cross having a Latin inscription, half-effaced, marks the spot."--J. L.

HEIBERG.

It was spring, fresh, life-bearing spring! Only one day and one night, and the birds of pa.s.sage were back again; the woods made themselves once more young with green, odorous leaves; the Sound had its swimming Venice of richly laden vessels; only one day and one night, and Sophie was removed from Otto--they were divided by the salt sea; but it was spring in his heart; from it flew his thoughts, like birds of pa.s.sage, to the island of Funen, and there sang of summer. Hope gave him more "gold and green woods" than the s.h.i.+ps bear through the Sound, more than Zealand's bays can show. Sophie at parting pressed his hand. In her eyes lay what his heart might hope and dream.

He forgot that hope and dreams were the opposites of reality.

Cousin Joachim had gone to Stockholm, and would not return either in the spring or summer to Funen. On the contrary, Otto intended to spend a few weeks at the country-seat; not before August would he and Wilhelm travel. There would at least be one happy moment, and many perhaps almost as happy. In his room stood a rose-bush, the first buds formed themselves, and opened their red lips--as pure and tender as these leaves was Sophie's cheek: he bent over the flower, smiled and read there sweet thoughts which were related to his love. A rose-bud is a sweet mystery.

"The myriad leaves enmaze Small labyrinthine ways Where spicy odor flows, Thou lovelv bud o' the rose!"

The day came on which Otto, after he had comfortably terminated his visits of leave-taking, at midday, in the company of three young students travelled away through Zealand. They had taken a carriage together as far as Slagelse, where, like Abraham's and Lot's shepherds, they should separate to the right and left. Otto remained alone, in order to travel post that night to Nyborg. It was only four o'clock in the afternoon, Otto had no acquaintance here, therefore it was but to take a walk.

"There still exist remains of the old Antvorskov convent, [Author's Note: The convent was founded by Waldemar I., 1177.] do there not?"

asked he.

"Yes, but very little!" answered the host. "The convent became a castle, the castle a private house, and now within the last few years, on account of the stones, it has been still more pulled down. You will find nothing old remaining, except here and there in the garden a piece of a red wall standing out. But the situation is beautiful! If you will only take the road toward the large village called Landsgrav, you are on the way to Korsoer, and close to the cross of the holy Anders. It is a right pleasant excursion!"

"Convent ruins and the holy cross!" said Otto; "that sounds quite romantic!" And he commenced his wanderings.

A few scholars from the Latin school, with their books held together by a strait, and then a square built lancer, who greeted in military style an elderly-young lady, who was seated behind a barricade of geraniums and wall flowers, were the only individuals he met with on his way. Yet Otto remarked that the windows were opened as he pa.s.sed; people wanted to see who the stranger might be who was going up the street.

A long avenue led from the town to the castle. On either side the way lay detached houses, with little gardens. Otto soon reached the remains of old Antvorskov. The way was red from the stones which were flung about, and were now ground to dust. Huge pieces of wall, where the mortar and stone were united in one piece, lay almost concealed among the high nettles. Rather more distant stood a solitary house of two stories. It was narrow, and whitewashed. A thick pilaster, such as one sees in churches, supported the strong wall. This was half of the last wing of the castle,--a mingling of the ancient and incident, of ruin and dwelling-house.

Otto went into the garden, which was laid out upon the hill itself, and its terraces. Here were only young trees; but the walks were everywhere overgrown. The view stretched itself far over the plain, toward the Belt and Funen. He descended from the terrace down to the lowest wall. In this there yet remained a piece of an old tombstone, of the age of the convent, on which you perceived the trace of a female form; and near to this the figure of a skeleton, round which was twined a snake. Otto stood sunk in contemplation, when an old man, with two water-buckets suspended from a yoke on his shoulders, approached a near well.

The old man was very ready to commence a conversation. He told of excavations, and of an underground pa.s.sage which had not been discovered, but which, according to his opinion, was certainly in existence. So far they had only found a few walled-round s.p.a.ces, which had most probably been prisons. In one of these was an iron chain fastened into the wall. But with regard to the underground pa.s.sage, they had only not yet discovered the right place, for it must exist. It led from here, deep under the lake and forest, toward Soroe. There were large iron gates below. At Christmas one could hear how they were swung to and fro. "Whoever should have that which is concealed there," said the old man, "would be a made man, and need not neither slip nor slide."

Otto looked at the solitary wing which rose up over the terrace. How splendid it had been here in former times!

Close to the large wood, several miles in extent, which stretches itself on the other side of Soroe, down to the sh.o.r.e of the King's Brook, lay the rich convent where Hans Tausen spoke what the Spirit inspired him with. Times changed; the convent vanished;

"Halls of state Tower upon that spot elate; Where the narrow cell once stood;"

[Author's Note: Anders-skov, by Oehlenschlager.]

where the monks sang psalms, knights and ladies danced to the sound of beating drums: but these tone's ceased; the blooming cheeks became dust.

It was again quiet. Many a pleasant time did Holberg ride over from Soroe, through the green wood, to visit the steward of Antvorskov. Otto recollected what one of his daughters, when an old woman, had related to a friend of his. She was a child, and lay in the cradle, when old Holberg came riding there, with a little wheaten loaf and a small pot of preserve in his pocket--his usual provision on such little excursions.

The steward's young wife sat at her spinning-wheel. Holberg paced up and down the room with the husband; they were discussing politics. This interested the wife, and she joined in the conversation. Holberg turned round to her,--"I fancy the distaff speaks!" said he. This the wife could never forget. [Translator's Note: Rokkehoved, distaff, means also dunce in Danish.]

Otto smiled at this recollection of the witty but ungallant poet, quitted the garden, and went through a winding hollow way, where the luxuriant briers hung in rich ma.s.ses over the stone fence. Slagelse, with its high hills in the background, looked picturesque. He soon reached Landsgrav. The sun went down as he walked over the field where the wooden cross stands, with its figure of the Redeemer, in memory of the holy Anders. Near it he perceived a man, who appeared to kneel. One hand held fast by the cross; in the other was a sharp knife, with which he was probably cutting out his name. He did not observe Otto. Near the man lay a box covered with green oil-cloth; and in the gra.s.s lay a knapsack, a pair of boots, and a knotty stick. It must be a wandering journeyman, or else a pedlar.

Otto was about to return, when the stranger rose and perceived him. Otto stood as if nailed to the earth. It was the German Heinrich whom he saw before him.

"Is not that Mr. Thostrup?" said the man and that horrible grinning smile played around his mouth. "No, that I did not expect!"

"Does it go well with you, Heinrich?" asked Otto.

"There's room for things to mend!" replied Heinrich "It goes better with you! Good Lord, that you should become such a grand gentleman! Who would have thought it, when you rode on my knee, and I p.r.i.c.ked you in the arm?

Things go on strangely in this world! Have you heard of your sister? She was not so much spoiled as you! But she was a beautiful child!"

"I have neither seen her nor my parents!" replied he, with a trembling which he strove to conquer. "Do you know where she is?"

"I am always travelling!" said Heinrich; "but thus much I know, that she is still in Funen. Yes, she must take one of us, an unpretending husband! You can choose a genteel young lady for yourself. That's the way when people are lucky. You will become a landed proprietor. Old Heinrich will then no doubt obtain permission to exhibit his tricks on your estate? But none of its will speak of former times!--of the red house on the Odense water!" This last he whispered quite low. "I shall receive a few s.h.i.+llings from you?" he asked.

"You shall have more!" said Otto, and gave to him. "But I wish us to remain strangers to each other, as we are!"

"Yes, certainly, certainly!" said Heinrich, and nodded affirmatively with his head, whilst his eyes rested on the gift Otto had presented him with. "Then you are no longer angry with my joke in Jutland?" asked he with a simpering smile, and kissed Otto's hand. "I should not have known you then. Had you not shown me your shoulder, on which I saw the letters O and T which I myself had etched, it would never have occurred to me that we knew each other! But a light suddenly flashed across me. I should have said Otto Thostrup; but I said 'Odense Tugt-huus.' [Note: Odense house of correction.] That was not handsome of me, seeing you are such a good gentleman!"

"Yes, now adieu!" said Otto, and extended to him unwillingly his hand.