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Herr Arnes penningar. English

Page 7

by Selma Lagerlöf


  Next day the storm had ceased. The weather was now milder, but ithad caused little shrinking of the ice and the sea was closed asfast as ever.

  When Elsalill awoke in the morning she thought: "It is surelybetter that a wicked man repent and live according to God'scommandments than that he be punished with death."

  That day Sir Archie sent a messenger to Elsalill, and he broughther a heavy armlet of gold.

  And Elsalill was glad that Sir Archie had thought of giving herpleasure, and she thanked the messenger and accepted the gift.

  But when he was gone she fell to thinking that this armlet hadbeen bought for her with Herr Arne's money. When she thought ofthis she could not endure to look on it. She plucked it from herarm and threw it far away.

  "What will my life be, if I must always call to mind that I amliving on Herr Arne's money?" she thought. "If I put a mouthful offood to my lips, must I not think of the stolen money? And if Ihave a new gown, will it not ring in my ears that it is boughtwith ill-gotten gold? Now at last I see that it is impossible forme to go with Sir Archie and join my life to his. I shall tell himthis when he comes."

  When evening was drawing on, Sir Archie came to her. He was incheerful mood, he had not been plagued with evil thoughts, and hebelieved it was owing to his promise to make good to one maidenthe wrong he had done another.

  When Elsalill saw him and heard him speak she could not bringherself to tell him that she was sad at heart and would part fromhim.

  All the sorrows which gnawed at her were forgotten as she satlistening to Sir Archie.

  The next day was a Sunday, and Elsalill went to church. She wasthere both in the morning and in the evening.

  As she sat during the morning service listening to the sermon, sheheard someone weeping and sobbing close by.

  She thought it was one of those who sat beside her in the pew, butwhether she looked to right or left she saw none but calm anddevout worshippers.

  Nevertheless, she plainly heard a sound of weeping, and it seemedso near to her that she might have touched the one who wept byputting out her hand.

  Elsalill sat listening to the sighing and sobbing, and thought toherself that she had never heard so sorrowful a sound.

  "Who is it that is afflicted with such deep grief that she mustshed these bitter tears?" thought Elsalill.

  She looked behind her, and she leaned forward over the next pew tosee. But all were sitting in silence, and no face was wet withtears.

  Then Elsalill thought there was no need to ask or wonder, forindeed she had known from the first who it was that wept besideher. "Dear sister," she whispered, "why do you not show yourselfto me, as you did but lately? For you must know that I wouldgladly do all I may to dry your tears."

  She listened for an answer, but none came. All she heard was thesobbing of the dead girl beside her.

  Elsalill tried to hearken to what the preacher was saying in thepulpit, but she could follow little of it. And she grew impatientand whispered: "I know one who has more cause to weep than any,and that is myself. Had not my foster sister revealed her murdererto me I might have sat here with a heart full of joy."

  As she listened to the weeping she became more and more resentful,so that she thought: "How can my dead foster sister require of methat I shall betray the man I love? Never would she herself havedone such a thing, if she had lived."

  She was shut up in the pew, but she could scarcely sit still. Sherocked backward and forward and wrung her hands. "Now this willfollow me all day," she thought. "Who knows," she went on, growingmore and more anxious, "who knows whether it will not follow methrough life?"

  But the sobbing beside her grew ever deeper and sadder, and atlast her heart was touched in spite of herself, and she too beganto weep. "She who weeps so must have a terribly heavy grief," shethought. "She must have to bear suffering heavier than any of theliving can conceive."

  When the service was over and Elsalill had come out of church, sheheard the sobbing no longer. But all the way home she wept toherself because her foster sister could find no peace in hergrave.

  When the time of evensong came Elsalill went again to the church,being constrained to know whether her foster sister still satthere weeping.

  And as soon as Elsalill entered the church she heard her, and hersoul trembled within her when she caught the sound of the sobbing.She felt her strength forsaking her and she had but one desire--tohelp the dead girl who was wandering among the living and knew norest.

  When Elsalill came out of church it was still light enough for herto see that one of those who walked before her left bloodyfootprints in the snow.

  "Who can it be so poor that he goes barefoot and leaves bloodyfootprints in the snow?" she thought.

  All those who walked before her seemed to be well-to-do folk. Theywere neatly dressed and well shod.

  But the red footprints were not old. Elsalill could see they weremade by one of the group that walked before her. "It is someonewho is footsore from a long journey," she thought. "God grant hemay not have far to go ere he find shelter and rest."

  She had a strong desire to know who it was that had made thisweary pilgrimage, and she followed the footprints, though they ledher away from her home.

  But suddenly she saw that all the church-goers had gone anotherway and that she was alone in the street. Nevertheless, theblood-red footprints were there as plain as before. "It is my poorfoster sister who is going before me," she thought; and she ownedto herself that she had guessed it all the time.

  "Alas, my poor foster sister, I thought you went so lightly uponearth that your feet did not touch the ground. But none among theliving can know how painful your pilgrimage must be."

  The tears started to her eyes, and she sighed: "Could she but findpeace in her grave! Woe is me that she must wander here so long,till she has worn her feet to bleeding!"

  "Stay, my dear foster sister!" she cried. "Stay, that I may speakto you!"

  But as she cried thus, she saw that the footprints fell yet fasterin the snow, as though the dead girl were hastening her steps.

  "Now she flies from me. She looks no more for help from me," saidElsalill.

  The bloody footprints made her quite frantic, and she cried out:"My dear foster sister, I will do all you ask if only you may findrest in your grave!"

  So soon as Elsalill had uttered these words a tall, big woman whohad followed her came up and laid a hand on her arm.

  "Who may you be, crying and wringing your hands here in thestreet?" the woman asked. "You call to my mind a little maid whocame to me on Friday looking for a place and then ran away fromme. Or perhaps you are the same?"

  "No, I am not the same," said Elsalill, "but if, as I think, youare the hostess of the Town Cellars, then I know what maid it isyou speak of."

  "Then you can tell me why she took herself off and has not comeback," said the hostess.

  "She left you," said Elsalill, "because she did not choose to hearthe talk of all the evildoers who gather in your tavern."

  "Many a wild companion comes to my tavern," said the hostess, "butamong them are no evildoers."

  "Yet the maid heard three that sat there talking amongthemselves," said Elsalill, "and one of them said: 'Drink,brother! Herr Arne's hoard is not yet done.'"

  When Elsalill had said these words she thought: "Now I have helpedmy foster sister and told what I heard. Now may God help me thatthis woman pay no heed to my words; so I shall be quit."

  But when she saw in the hostess's face that she believed her, shewas afraid and would have run away.

  But before she had time to move, the hostess's heavy hand hadtaken firm hold of her so that she could not escape.

  "If you can witness that such words have been uttered in mytavern, mistress," said the hostess, "then you were best not torun away. For you must go with me to those who have the power toseize the murderers and bring them to justice."

  CHAPTER VIII

  SIR ARCHIE'S FLIGHT

 

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