Elis thought of Ulla. Like some bright angel he saw her hovering over him, and he forgot all the terror of the abyss, and the hardness of the labour.
It was clear in all his thoughts that it was only if he devoted himself with all the power of his mind, and with all the exertion which his body would endure, to mining work here with Pehrson Dahlsjoe, that there was any possibility of his fondest hopes being some day realized. Wherefore it came about that he was as good at his work as the most practiced hand in an incredibly short space of time.
Staunch Pehrson Dahlsjoe got to like this good, industrious lad better and better every day, and often told him plainly that he had found in him one whom he regarded as a dear son as well as a first-class mine-hand. Also Ulla’s regard for him became more and more unmistakable. Often, when he was going to his work and there was any prospect of danger, she would enjoin him with tears in her eyes to be sure to take care of himself. And she would come running to meet him when he came back, and always had the finest of ale or some other refreshment ready for him. His heart danced for joy one day when Pehrson said to him that as he had brought a good sum of money with him, there could be no doubt that—with his habits of economy and industry—he would soon have a Hemmans, or perhaps even a Fraelse; and then not a mineowner in all Falun would refuse if he asked for his daughter. Elis would have liked to tell him at once how unspeakably he loved Ulla, and how all his hopes of happiness were based upon her. But unconquerable shyness and the doubt whether Ulla really liked him—though he often thought she did—sealed his lips.
One day it chanced that Elis was at work in the lowest depths of the mine, shrouded in thick, sulphurous vapour, so that his candle only shed a feeble glimmer and he could scarcely distinguish the run of the lode. Suddenly he heard—as if coming from some still deeper cutting—a knocking as if somebody was at work with a pick-hammer. As that sort of work was scarcely possible at such a depth, and as he knew nobody was down there that day but himself—because the Captain had all the men employed in another part of the mine—this knocking and hammering struck him as strange and uncanny. He stopped working and listened to the hollow sounds, which seemed to come nearer and nearer. All at once he saw, close by him, a black shadow and—as a keen draught of air blew away the sulphur vapour—the old miner whom he had seen in Goethaborg.
“Good luck,” he cried, “good luck to Elis Froebom, down here among the stones! What do you think of the life, comrade?”
Elis would have liked to ask in what wonderful way the old man had got into the mine; but he kept striking his hammer on the rocks with such force that the sparks went whirling all round, and the mine rang as if with distant thunder. Then he cried, in a terrible voice:
“There’s a grand run of trap just here; but a scurvy, ignorant scoundrel like you sees nothing in it but a narrow streak of ‘trumm’ not worth a beanstalk. Down here you’re a sightless mole, and you’ll always be a mere abomination to the Metal Prince. You’re of no use up above either—trying to get hold of the pure Regulus; which you never will-hey! You want to marry Pehrson Dahlsjoe’s daughter; that’s what you’ve taken to mine work for, not from any love of it. Mind what you’re after, doubleface; take care that the Metal Prince, whom you are trying to deceive, doesn’t take you and dash you down so that the sharp rocks tear you limb from limb. And Ulla will never be your wife; that much I tell you.”
Elis’s anger was kindled at the old man’s insulting words. “What are you doing,” he cried, “here in my master, Herr Pehrson Dahlsjoe’s shaft, where I am doing my duty and working as hard at it as I can? Be off out of this the way you came, or we’ll see which of us two will dash the other’s brains out down here.”
With which he placed himself in a threatening attitude and swung his hammer about the old man’s ears; he only gave a sneering laugh, and Elis saw with terror how he swarmed up the narrow ladder rungs like a squirrel, and disappeared amongst the black labyrinths of the chasms.
The young man felt paralyzed in all his limbs; he could not go on with his work, but went up. When the old Head Captain—who had been busy in another part of the mine—saw him, he cried:
“For God’s sake, Elis, what has happened to you? You’re as pale as death. I suppose it’s the sulphur gas; you’re not accustomed to it yet. Here, take a drink, my lad; that’ll do you good.”
Elis took a good mouthful of brandy out of the flask which the Head Captain handed to him; and then, feeling better, told him what had happened down in the mine, as also how he had made the uncanny old miner’s acquaintance in Goethaborg.
The Head Captain listened silently; then dubiously shook his head and said:
“That must have been old Torbern that you met, Elis; and I see now that there really is something in the tales that people tell about him. More than one hundred years ago, there was a miner here of the name of Torbern. He seems to have been one of the first to bring mining into a flourishing condition at Falun here, and in his time profits far exceeded anything that we know of now. Nobody at that time knew so much about mining as Torbern, who had great scientific skill and thoroughly understood all the ins and outs of the business. The richest lodes seemed to disclose themselves to him, as if he was endowed with higher powers peculiar to himself; and as he was a gloomy, meditative man, without wife or child—with no regular home, indeed—and very seldom came up to the surface, it couldn’t fail that a story soon went about that he was in compact with the mysterious power which dwells in the bowels of the earth and creates metals. Disregarding Torbern’s solemn warnings —for he always prophesied that some calamity would happen as soon as the miners’ impulse to work ceased to be sincere love for the marvellous metals and ores—people went on enlarging the excavations more and more for the sake of mere profit, till on St. John’s Day of the year 1678, came the terrible landslip and subsidence which formed our present enormous main shaft, laying waste the whole of the works, as they were then, in the process. It was only after many months’ labour that several of the shafts were with much difficulty put into workable order again. Nothing was seen or heard of Torbern. There seemed to be no doubt that he had been at work down below at the time of the catastrophe, so that there could be no question what his fate had been. But not long after, particularly when the work was beginning to go better again, the miners said they had seen old Torbern in the mine, and that he had given them valuable advice and pointed out rich lodes to them. Others had come across him at the top of the main shaft, walking round it, sometimes lamenting, sometimes shouting in wild anger. Other young fellows have come here in the way you yourself did, saying that an old miner had advised them to take to mining and shown them the way to Falun. This always happened when there was a scarcity of hands; very likely it was Torbern’s way of helping on the cause. But if it really was he whom you had those words with in the mine, and if he spoke of a fine run of trap there isn’t a doubt that there must be a grand vein of ore thereabouts, and we must see tomorrow if we can come across it. Of course you remember that we call rich veins of the kind ‘trap-runs,’ and that a ‘trumm’ is a vein which goes subdividing into several smaller ones, and probably gets lost altogether.”
When Elis, tossed hither and thither by various thoughts went into Pehrson Dahlsjoe’s, Ulla did not come to meet him as usual. She was sitting with downcast looks and—as he thought—eyes which had been weeping; and beside her was a handsome young fellow, holding her hand and trying to say all sorts of kind and amusing things to which she seemed to pay little attention. Pehrson Dahlsjoe took Elis—who, seized by gloomy presentiments, was keeping a dark glance riveted on the pair—into another room, and said:
“Well, Elis, you will soon have it in your power to give me a proof of your regard and sincerity. I have always looked upon you as a son, but you will soon take the place of one altogether. The man whom you see in there is a well-to-do merchant, Eric Olavsen by name, from Goethaborg. I am giving him my daughter for his wife, at his desire. He will take her to Goethaborg, and t
hen you will be left alone with me, my only support in my declining years. Well, you say nothing? You turn pale? I trust this step doesn’t displease you, and that now that I’m going to lose my daughter you are not going to leave me too? But I hear Olavsen mentioning my name; I must go in.”
With which he went back to the room.
Elis felt a thousand red-hot irons tearing at his heart. He could find no words, no tears. In wild despair he ran out, out of the house, away to the great mine shaft.
That monstrous chasm had a terrible appearance by day; but now, when night had fallen and the moon was just peeping down into it, the desolate crags looked like a numberless horde of horrible monsters, the dire brood of hell, rolling and writhing in wildest confusion all about its reeking sides and clefts, and flashing up fiery eyes and shooting forth glowing claws to clutch the race of mortals.
“Torbern, Torbern,” Elis cried in a terrible voice which made the rocks re-echo. “Torbern, I am here; you were not wrong—I was a wretched fool to fix my hopes on any earthly love, up on the surface here. My treasure, my life, everything for me, is down below. Torbern! take me down with you! Show me the richest veins, the lodes of ore, the glowing metal! I will dig and bore, and toil and labour. Never, never more will I come back to see the light of day. Torbern! Torbern! take me down to you!”
He took his flint and steel from his pocket, lighted his candle, and went quickly down the shaft, into the deep cutting where he had been on the previous day, but he saw nothing of the old man. But what was his amazement when, at the deepest point, he saw the vein of metal with the utmost clearness and distinctness, so that he could trace every one of its ramifications and its risings and fallings. But as he kept his gaze fixed more and more firmly on this wonderful vein, a dazzling light seemed to come shining through the shaft, and the walls of rock grew transparent as crystal. That mysterious dream which he had had in Goethaborg came back upon him. He was looking upon those Elysian Fields of glorious metallic trees and plants on which, by way of fruits, buds, and blossoms, hung jewels streaming with fire. He saw the maidens and he looked on the face of the mighty queen. She put out her arms, drew him to her, and pressed him to her breast. Then a burning ray darted through his heart, and all his consciousness was merged in a feeling of floating in waves of some blue, transparent, glittering mist.
“Elis Froebom! Elis Froebom!” a powerful voice from above cried out, and the reflection of torches began shining in the shaft. It was Pehrson Dahlsjoe who had come down with the Captain to search for the lad, who had been seen running in the direction of the main shaft like a mad creature.
They found him standing as if turned to stone, with his face pressed against the cold, hard rock.
“What are you doing down here in the nighttime, you foolish fellow ? ” cried Pehrson. “Pull yourself together, and come up with us. Who knows what good news you may hear.”
Elis went up in profound silence after Dahlsjoe, who did not cease to rate him soundly for exposing himself to such danger. It was broad daylight when they got to the house.
Ulla threw herself into Elis’s arms with a great cry and called him the fondest names, and Pehrson said to him:
“You foolish fellow! How could I help seeing, long ago, that you were in love with Ulla, and that it was on her account, in all probability, that you were working so hard in the mine? Neither could I help seeing that she was just as fond of you. Could I wish for a better son-in-law than a fine, hearty, hard-working, honest miner—than just yourself, Elis? What vexed me was that you never would speak.”
“We scarcely knew ourselves,” said Ulla, “how fond we were of each other.”
“However that may be,” said Pehrson, “I was annoyed that Elis didn’t tell me openly and candidly of his love for you, and that was why I made up the story about Eric Olavsen, which was so nearly being the death of you, you silly fellow. Not but what I wished to try you, Ulla, into the bargain. Eric Olavsen has been married for many a day, and I give my daughter to you, Elis Froebom, for, I say again, I couldn’t wish for a better son-in-law.”
Tears of joy and happiness ran down Elis’s cheeks. The highest bliss which his imagination had pictured had come to pass so suddenly and unexpectedly that he could scarcely believe it was anything but another blissful dream. The work people came to dinner, at Dahlsjoe’s invitation, in honour of the event. Ulla had dressed in her prettiest attire, and looked more charming than ever, so that they all cried, over and over again, “Eh! what a sweet and charming creature Elis has for his wife! May God bless them and make them happy! ”
Yet the terror of the previous night still lay upon Elis’s pale face, and he often stared about him as if he were far away from all that was going on round him. “Elis, darling, what is the matter?” Ulla asked anxiously. He pressed her to his heart and said, “Yes, yes, you are my own, and all is well.” But in the midst of all his happiness he often felt as though an icy hand clutched at his heart, and a dismal voice asked him:
“Is it your highest aim to be engaged to Ulla? Wretched fool! Have you not looked upon the face of the queen ? ”
He felt himself overpowered by an indescribable feeling of anxiety. He was haunted and tortured by the thought that one of the workmen would suddenly assume gigantic proportions, and to his horror he would recognize in him Torbern, come to remind him, in a terrible manner, of the subterranean realm of gems and metals to which he had devoted himself.
And yet he could see no reason why the spectral old man should be hostile to him, or what connection there was between his mining work and his love.
Pehrson, seeing Elis’s disordered condition, attributed it to the trouble he had gone through and his nocturnal visit to the mine. Not so Ulla, who, seized by a secret presentiment, implored her lover to tell her what terrible thing had happened to him to tear him away from her so entirely. This almost broke his heart. It was in vain that he tried to tell her of the wonderful face which had revealed itself to him in the depths of the mine. Some unknown power seemed to seal his lips forcibly; he felt as though the terrible face of the queen were looking out from his heart, so that if he mentioned her, everything about him would turn to stone, to dark, black rock, as at the sight of the Medusa’s frightful head. All the glory and magnificence which had filled him with rapture in the abyss appeared to him now as a pandemonium of immitigable torture, deceptively decked out to allure him to his ruin.
Dahlsjoe told him he must stay at home for a few days to shake off the sickness which he seemed to have fallen into. And during this time Ulla’s affection, which now streamed bright and clear from her candid, childlike heart, drove away the memory of his fateful adventure in the mine depths. Joy and happiness brought him back to life and to belief in his good fortune, and in the impossibility of its being ever interfered with by any evil power.
When he went down the pit again, everything appeared quite different to what it used to be. The most glorious veins lay clear and distinct before his eyes. He worked twice as zealously as before; he forgot everything else. When he got to the surface again, it cost him an effort to remember Pehrson Dahlsjoe, even his Ulla. He felt as if divided into two halves, as if his better self, his real personality, went down to the central point of the earth, and there rested in bliss in the queen’s arms, whilst he went to his dark dwelling in Falun. When Ulla spoke of their love, and the happiness of their future life together, he would begin to talk of the splendours of the depths, and the inestimably precious treasures that lay hidden there, and in so doing would get entangled in such wonderful, incomprehensible sayings that alarm and terrible anxiety took possession of the poor child, who could not divine why Elis should be so completely altered from his former self. He kept telling the Captain and Dahlsjoe himself with the greatest delight, that he had discovered the richest veins and the most magnificent trap-runs, and when these turned out to be nothing but unproductive rock, he would laugh contemptuously and say that none but he understood the secret signs, the significant writing,
fraught with hidden meaning, which the queen’s own hand had inscribed on the rocks, and that it was sufficient to understand those signs without bringing to light what they indicated.
The old Captain looked sorrowfully at Elis, who spoke, with wild gleaming eyes of the glorious paradise which glowed down in the depths of the earth. “That terrible old Torbern has been at him,” he whispered in Dahlsjoe’s ear.
“Pshaw! don’t believe these miners’ yarns,” cried Dahlsjoe. “He’s a deep-thinking serious fellow, and love has turned his head, that’s all. Wait till the marriage is over, then we’ll hear no more of the trap-runs, the treasures, and the subterranean paradise.”
The wedding day fixed by Dahlsjoe came at last. For a few days previously Elis had been more tranquil, more serious, more sunk in deep reflection than ever. But, on the other hand, never had he shown such affection for Ulla as at this time. He could not leave her for a moment, and never went down the mine at all. He seemed to have forgotten his restless excitement about mining work, and never a word of the subterranean kingdom crossed his lips. Ulla was all rapture. Her fear lest the dangerous powers of the subterranean world, of which she had heard old miners speak, had been luring him to his destruction, had left her; and Dahlsjoe too said, laughing to the Captain, “You see, Elis was only a little light-headed for love of my Ulla.”
Early on the morning of the wedding day, which was St. John’s Day as it chanced, Elis knocked at the door of Ulla’s room. She opened it, and started back terrified at the sight of Elis, dressed in his wedding clothes, deadly pale, with dark gloomy fire sparkling in his eyes.
“I only want to tell you, my beloved Ulla,” he said, in a faint, trembling voice, “that we are just arrived at the summit of the highest good fortune which it is possible for mortals to attain. Everything has been revealed to me in the night which is just over. Down in the depths below, hidden in chlorite and mica, lies the cherry-coloured sparkling almandine, on which the tablet of our lives is graven. I have to give it to you as a wedding present. It is more splendid than the most glorious blood-red carbuncle, and when, united in truest affection, we look into its streaming splendour together, we shall see and understand the peculiar manner in which our hearts and souls have grown together into the wonderful branch which shoots from the queen’s heart, at the central point of the globe. All that is necessary is that I go and bring this stone to the surface, and that I will do now, as fast as I can. Take care of yourself meanwhile, darling. I will be back in a little while.”
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