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MORSIUSMARSSI

Kirj.

BJ?RNSTJERNE BJ?RNSON

Suomentanut Maila Talvio

Porvoossa, Werner S?derstr?m Oy, 1922.

Viime vuosisadalla asui er??ss? Norjan suurimmista tunturilaaksoista pelimanni, joka my?hemmin jossain m??rin on siirtynyt kansantaruun. Useita s?vell? ja lauluja v?itet??n h?nen tekemikseen; toiset h?n tarun mukaan oli kuullut maahisilta, yhden itse pirulta, yhden h?n oli tehnyt pelastaakseen henkens? j.n.e. Yksi h?nen marsseistaan on k?ynyt kuulummaksi muita; sill? sen tarina ei p??ttynytk??n, kun h?n kuoli, vaan alkoi vasta oikein sen j?lkeen.

Ole Haugen kuului nimitt?in sillaikaa kun taistelu k?vi pojan ja vanhempien v?lill?, olleen oivallisella tuulella. Mutta kun voitto oli saatu, oli h?n sanonut jo tehneens? heille morsiusmarssin; eik? se en?? koskaan voisi h?vit? Tingvoldin suvusta; mutta Herra varjele sit? morsianta, joka ei aja sen soidessa kirkkoon yht? iloisena kuin Haugenin torpantytt?! -- T?ss? olivat ihmiset vainunneet pahaa vaikutusta.

Niin kuuluu t?m? monien muiden kaltainen tarina. Mutta tarinaa todempaa on, ett? siell?, kuten niin monella tunturiseudulla, viel? t?n?kin p?iv?n? tavataan el?v? soiton ja laulun tunto, ja ett? se niin? aikoina lienee ollut viel?kin suurempi. Se ei voi s?ily? ilman ett? joku vaalii ja enent?? peritty? aarretta ja siin? suhteessa oli Ole Haugen varmaan verraton.

Heill? oli monta lasta, joiden historia ei kuulu meihin; mutta vanhimman pojan, Endridin, jonka piti peri? talo, piti tietysti my?skin vied? sen kunniaa eteenp?in. H?n oli reipas, niinkuin koko suku; mutta h?nen, p??ns? riitti vain kotitarpeeksi, kuten usein n?kee k?yv?n hyvin runsaslahjaisten vanhempien lasten. Is? pani sen merkille varhain ja p??tti korvata puutteen erinomaisella kasvatuksella. Lapset saivat sent?hden kotiopettajan ja t?ysikasvaneeksi p??sty? pantiin poika maanviljelyskouluun, yhteen niist?, jotka juuri silloin rupesivat p??sem??n parempaan vauhtiin, ja joutui my?hemmin kaupunkiin. H?n palasi kotiin hiljaisena, hiukan rasittuneena nuorukaisena ja kaupunkilaistapoja h?ness? oli v?hemmin kuin olisi uskonut ja is? oli toivonut. Endrid nimitt?in ei yleens? ollut hyv? oppimaan.

Niin eli poika kunnes oli 31 vuoden vanha, kartutti is?ns? omaisuutta ja omaa kokemustaan ja varmuuttaan. Koko t?n? aikana ei h?n ollut tehnyt pienint?k??n yrityst? kosia ket??n tytt?? paikkakunnalta tai ulkopuolelta ja vanhemmat alkoivat vakavasti pel?t?, ett? h?n kokonaan oli heitt?nyt sen mielest??n. Mutta sit? ei h?n ollut tehnyt.

Naapuritalossa eleli hyviss? varoissa er?s paikkakunnan parhaita sukuja, joka monta kertaa oli nainut Tingvoldinkin suvusta. Siell? kasvoi tytt?, jota Endrid oli katsellut siit? asti kun tytt? oli pieni lapsi; n?ht?v?sti h?n kaikessa hiljaisuudessa oli katsonut h?net itselleen, sill? tuskin puoli vuotta siit? kun tytt? p??si ripille, kosi h?n. Tytt? oli silloin 16 vuoden vanha ja h?n 31. Randi -- se oli tyt?n nimi -- ei heti ollut selvill? mit? h?n vastaisi t?h?n; h?n meni kysym??n vanhemmilta, mutta he j?ttiv?t sen kokonaan h?nen itsens? p??tett?v?ksi. He arvelivat, ett? Endrid oli kelpo mies ja varoihin n?hden paras, mink? tytt? n?ill? mailla saattoi saada. Ik?ero oli suuri ja h?nen t?ytyi itsens? p??tt?? uskaltaisiko h?n l?hte? siihen suureen taloon ja h?nelle ?kkioutoihin oloihin. Tytt? kyll? huomasi vanhempien mieluummin toivovan h?nen suostuvan kuin kielt?v?n; mutta h?n pelk?si todella. Silloin l?ksi h?n Endridin ?idin luo, josta h?n aina oli pit?nyt. H?n arveli ?idin tiet?v?n asian, mutta n?ki ihmeekseen, ettei ?iti tiet?nyt mit??n. ?iti ilostui niin, ett? h?n kaikin voimin neuvoi h?nt? suostumaan.

-- Min? autan sinua, sanoi h?n. -- Ei is? tahdo mit??n like he did?"

"He was sorry, Aunt Sally. Every letter he sends here tells that."

"Fiddlesticks!"

"And he's punished, isn't he, even if the New York folks let him go free, by his disappointment? I can fancy how dreadful it would seem, did seem to think this beautiful ranch was one's own, and then suddenly to learn that it was not."

"Oh! Jessie! You try my soul with your forgivin' and forgivin'. Next you know you'll be sorry for Ferd, the dwarf, though 'tis he himself what's started all this bobery against 'Forty-niner,' and eggs them silly Winklers on to be so--so hateful. I'm glad that witless woman did lose her ring, and I hope it'll never be straightened out. I guess I'm out of conceit with everybody living, not exceptin' old Sally Benton, herself!"

With this home thrust at her own ill temper, the whimsical woman betook herself and her dangling array of patchwork to Mrs. Trent's sitting-room; there to discuss the prospects for holiday festivities and to take account of stock, in the way of groceries on hand. Deep in the subject of pies and puddings, they forgot other matters, till a wild whoop outside the window disturbed them, and they beheld Ned and Luis, painted in startling "Indian fashion," mounted upon a highly decorated horse, which had never been seen in the Sobrante stables.

"Hi, there, mother! Your money or your life!"

"Money--life!" echoed Luis, clinging to his playmate's waist and peeping over his shoulder.

The horse was rearing and plunging more dangerously each second, and both women rushed to the rescue of the imperiled children, who realized nothing of their danger, but shouted and screamed the louder the more frantic their steed became. Mrs. Trent caught the bridle, and Aunt Sally snatched first one, then the other, child from the creature's back, who, as soon as he was relieved of his yelling burden, started at a gallop across the garden, ruining its beds and borders on his way.

"Oh, oh! Children, how could you? Whose horse is that? Where did you get that paint? How shall I ever make you clean?"

"I'll tend to that part, Gabriella. You just call a boy to fix them flower beds before the plants wither. Oh, you rascals! You won't forget this morning's fun in a hurry, I warn you! You've been in John Benton's paint pots again. Well, you like paint, you shall have it, and all you want of it too. Red and yeller, green and pink, with a streak of blue. H'm! You're a tasty lot, ain't you!"

The lads squirmed and twisted, but Aunt Sally's grip merely tightened upon them so that finally, they ceased struggling and allowed her to lead them whither she would, which was to the small laundry, that stood at some slight distance from the house. Here she sternly regarded each bedaubed, but otherwise nude, little figure, with so fierce an expression upon her usually pleasant face that the young miscreants winced, and Ned cried out:

"Quit a-talking eyes at me that way, Aunt Sally Benton! I don't like it."

"Oh! you don't, eh? Well, what'd you disgrace yourselves this way for, if 'twasn't to make folks stare? Where's your clothes?"

"I don't know."

"Very well, then I'll help you to remember."

"I won't be whipped! I'll tell my mother!" shrieked Ned, retreating toward the closed door of the building.

"Won't be whipped, old Aunt Sally!" added Luis, clasping his leader; whereupon the customary scuffle ensued; for, no matter what their business in hand, personal contact always insured a slight passage at arms. At present, this diverted their thoughts from what might be in store at the will of their mutual enemy, and it came with appalling suddenness. Each small boy was lifted, bidden to shut his eyes and mouth, then plunged downward into a barrel of some cold slippery stuff. Here he was soused vigorously up and down, until every portion of his skin was smeared with the stick mess; after which he was placed on his feet and once more commanded:

"Now, son, just you stand there and dreen a spell. Lucky I made that barrel of soft soap last week. It's just the stuff to take this paint off, and what drips from you to the old adobe floor won't hurt. Pasqual's a master hand at scrubbin', and I'll give him the job of you and the floor both. Reckon you'll wish you hadn't ever seen paint pots time he gets through. Now--where's your clothes?"

Ned was silent, but Luis "guessed they's under a tree."

"Well, son, Garcia, knowing it better than guessing 'bout now. Me and Santa Claus is sort of partners, and he's due here soon. 'Twon't take me a jerk of a lamb's tail to write and tell him how things stand at Sobrante, and whose stockings'd better have switches 'stead of goodies in 'em. Hear me? Where's your clothes?"

A laugh caused Aunt Sally to glance through the window, where Jessica was an amused spectator of the scene within. She now begged:

"Don't be hard on the little tackers, auntie, dear. That was Prince, Mr. Hale's horse, that Pedro has tended on the mesa all these days. I'll find out how they came by it, and their clothes at the same time. Tell mother, please," and with a merry nod to the unhappy urchins, so shamfacedly "dreening" at Mrs. Benton's pleasure, she disappeared.

Disappeared not only from the window, but, apparently, from life, as suddenly and completely as if the earth had opened and engulfed her.

Mrs. Trent and Aunt Sally sat down alone to dinner. The little lads were in their beds, recovering from the sound scrubbing Pasqual had given them. Clothed in fresh nightgowns, and refreshed by generous bowls of bread and milk, they had been left in a darkened room to reflect upon the hard ways of transgressors. But reflection was unusual work for their active brains, and they had promptly fallen asleep; hence the profound peace which rested upon the house.

"I wonder where Jessica is? She was to have written my letters for me, but I haven't seen her since breakfast," said the mother, somewhat anxiously.

"Oh! she's around somewhere. Was at the laundry window while I was tending to the children, and said she'd go find their clothes. In all my born days I never saw two small heads could hatch the mischief Ned's and Luis' can. It's out of one scrape into another, and seems if they must break their necks some day."

"Oh! don't forecast evil. Their pranks keep my nerves on tension all the time, yet I shouldn't worry so. They always escape from harm. But I'd like to know how they got that horse."

"John won't be pleased. He's so careful of his belongings, even I never touch them without permission," said the ranch mistress, smiling afresh at the memory of the ridiculous picture the boys had made.

"Don't surprise me't you laugh, Gabriella, but you'd ought to put the reins on tighter to them chaps, lest first you know they'll be driving you, not you them. Do it already, seems if."

"How can I be stern with Cassius' little son? Every day I see more resemblance to his father in the childs face; yes, and in his nature, too. Nobody was ever fonder of fun than my husband, yet surely there never was a better man."

"Oh! Neddy's all right. Trouble is to keep him from thinkin' so himself. But, there. Why don't you eat your dinner? You haven't more'n half touched it. It's a shame to waste good victuals, and these are good. I fixed 'em myself."

The other smiled again at the complacency visible upon her friend's face, which so innocently dsplayed the same feeling that had just been deplored in Ned. However, Aunt Sally was too busy with her own food to notice anything else, and it seemed long to her companion before she had finished and risen, to call, sharply:

"Pas-qual! Oh, Pasqual-ly! Why aren't you on hand to clear the table? Don't you know I've got--and here followed a long list of things to be done, more than many could accomplish in several days." Each had some reference to the coming holidays, and the house boy understood this. He entered, more willingly than usual, grinning with the anticipation of the raisins he would have to stone, the nuts he must crack, and the goodly samples of each that he would surreptitiously procure.

Mrs. Trent asked him to put aside Miss Jessica's dinner, till she came in, and to be sure that it was also kept nice and warm.

"All right, lady. I'll do that good enough. Don't mind what I has to do for 'Lady Jess';" and immediately seized the plate, which Aunt Sally had already filled, to place it in the warming oven.

Then the mother went out, and among the adobe buildings, which formed the "boys" quarters and the business part of the ranch, calling gently, as she went, in the brooding sort of note which had long been a signal between her and her child. But no Jessica responded; and, to her fancy, it seemed that the whole place was strangely silent.

"After all, that is not to be wondered at. The men are done with dinner, and gone about their work. The boys are asleep, and only Jessica would be anywhere near. What can keep her, I wonder?" and with this thought the lady again uttered the tender call which would summon her daughter, if she were within hearing.

Then she returned to the house and tried to accept Aunt Sally's theory that, likely some of them 'boys' is in trouble about his job, and wants his 'captain' to go oversee. 'Mazin' strange, Gabriella, what a influence that child has over 'em. "They 'pear to think, the whole lot of 'em, that she can straighten out all the kinks that get into brains or business."

"She is quick to understand," said the mother, proudly.

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