Read Ebook: Mårbacka by Lagerl F Selma Howard Velma Swanston Translator

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Ebook has 98 lines and 8534 words, and 2 pages

boiled slom. Now, the very look of boiled slom is enough! There is a pallor about it peculiarly corpselike, and, besides, it is quite tasteless. Just the sight of it takes away one's appetite.

When the Lieutenant saw the boiled slom he looked as glum as the others.

"We are all out of butter," Mamselle Lovisa gave as excuse; "and since you will have slom at every meal we had no choice but to serve it boiled. For my part," she added, "I think it tastes no worse that way than any other."

The Lieutenant made no answer; so they all knew that Mamselle Lovisa had triumphed. He might easily have stepped into the pantry and seen for himself whether the butter was all gone, or ordered a fresh supply; but he did neither.

After that dinner he bought no more slom. What was the use, he said, when the womenfolk were too lazy to prepare the fish in the proper way? No one contradicted him, though all knew he was as glad as they were to see the last of the slom.

THE SEVENTEENTH OF AUGUST

IT IS not easy to say how the seventeenth of August, which was Lieutenant Lagerl?f's birthday, came to be the great day that it was. But one can imagine that with so many gifted persons all living in a little place like East ?mtervik, it was really necessary that they should have a chance, at least once a year, to show what they could do.

When, for example, there were three such fine orators as Engineer Noreen of Herrestad, Senator Nils Andersson of B?vik, and Merchant Teodor Nilsson of Visteberg, the first of whom went in for the pathetic, the second for the profound, and the third for the poetic, it would have been a great pity had they never been heard elsewhere than at small parties and town meetings.

And with a verse writer, too, like Sexton Melanoz at one's command! Days on end he had to sit in the schoolroom and hear the youngsters spell, stammer, and stumble through the intricate mazes of the Swedish language. Surely he needed to let this maltreated tongue ring out in high-sounding eulogistic measures once a year at least!

Then, moreover, there was a male quartette in the parish composed of such good singers as Gustaf and Jan Asker, of the old musical Askers, and the brothers Alfred and Tage Schullstr?m, who kept a store down by the church. People were thankful to them whenever they sang; but for the singers themselves it must have been both stimulating and inspiring to sing at a grand affair where they had critical and discriminating hearers.

And the old man Asker, who played dance music at peasant weddings where nobody cared what came forth from the clarinet just so it had dash and rhythm--he must indeed have been glad to come to M?rbacka on a seventeenth of August! The young folk there appreciated his art, and told him there was no music in the world so easy to dance to as his.

Then, too, there was a brass sextette made up of Tage Schullstr?m, Sergeant Johan Dalhgren, the G?rdsj? Inspector, a shop-clerk and two infant-school teachers. They had all invested in instruments and scores, and had rehearsed marches and waltzes, overtures and folk-songs. It would have been too bad not to have had one gala day, when their efforts were crowned by the award of triumph.

When, besides, among the relatives who spent their summers at M?rbacka there were two clever entertainers like Oriel Afzelius, husband of Fru Lagerl?f's sister, and her own brother, Kristofer Wallroth, it was well that away off here in the farming country there was a f?te on a grand enough scale to tempt them to perform.

Moreover, among the guests was a born prima donna, the pretty and merry Stockholmer, Fru Hedda Hedberg, who could act as well as sing, and was in every way adapted for the stage. But she had married a poor V?rmland lieutenant. Therefore, one may well say it was almost imperative that there should be a seventeenth of August celebration where all this wealth of talent might come into its own.

AFTER Lieutenant Lagerl?f became master of M?rbacka, for the first few years the seventeenth of August was observed in the customary birthday manner; there were flowers on the coffee table and a garland of leaves round the Lieutenant's cup. The neighbours dropped in to wish him many happy returns of the day, and were served with coffee, fruit juice, punch, and toddy. Then came supper at nine o'clock with the usual light chatter. After the meal, tables and chairs were removed from the living room that all might have a bit of a dance.

But somehow it must have been spread abroad that these little birthday parties were rather pleasant affairs. Since there was never any thought of sending out invitations, all who cared to come were welcome; so from year to year more and more folk gathered at M?rbacka.

And there were increases in the families, of course. As soon as the little ones began to toddle, they had to come along to M?rbacka to celebrate Lieutenant Lagerl?f's birthday. And sometimes the neighbours, who always attended these parties, had guests at home, and, naturally, they brought them.

In those days, when the young gentlemen would go many a mile for the sake of a dance, they, too, began to pay their respects to Lieutenant Lagerl?f on the seventeenth of August. Besides, there were the relatives from other parts of the country who visited M?rbacka every summer, and they planned their trips so as to be present on the Lieutenant's birthday.

As it was always fine weather on the seventeenth of August, in the Lieutenant's lifetime, the guests would while away the time strolling about the grounds, viewing his gardens and buildings. If many young people were present, the dancing would begin before supper. Everyone, no doubt, had a pleasant enough time, though no more so than at other parties.

Then happily Lieutenant Adolf Hedberg and his pretty young wife came to live at East ?mtervik. At Lieutenant Lagerl?f's next birthday party an old peasant woman with a basket of eggs to sell stalked into the kitchen in the midst of the festivities.

She was immediately ordered out, of course; no one had time to stop and buy eggs in the bustle and excitement, with so many guests to be served. Not in the least discouraged, the old woman went round to the veranda, where the Lieutenant sat with a circle of gentlemen. Indeed she was not embarrassed by the presence of the company; her tongue wagged so rapidly and she was so facetiously persistent, he had to buy her eggs to get rid of her. Even after she had stuffed the money into the pocket of her kirtle, she would not go. Then she wanted to know who the other gentlemen were, and commented rather freely on their personal appearance. Finally, young Lieutenant Hedberg, who thought the joke had gone far enough, said:

"You'd better stop now, Hedda."

Whereupon the "old peasant woman" rushed up, and dealt him a sound box on the ear.

"Why, Adolph!" she cried, "how can you be so mean as to give me away like that!"

And indeed it was a shame, for her disguise was so perfect and her V?rmland dialect so deliciously natural that none would have taken her for the charming lady from Stockholm.

That bit of drollery set the ball of talents rolling. Along in the evening Kristofer Wallroth sang a number of Eric B?gh's ditties. He had no voice to speak of, but his rendition of the serio-comic was side-splitting. At the end, Auditor Afzelius, with a silk kerchief bound round his head and a mantilla thrown over his shoulder, sang "Emilie's Heart-throbs." That was, of course, the star feature of the evening; the Auditor was inimitable in the r?le of the lovelorn maiden.

It must have been rather galling to the local pride of Sexton Melanoz that only these city folk provided entertainment for the Lieutenant and his guests. But the next year it was the sexton who made the "big hit." The Lieutenant had once presented to the Ostenby school a lot of small wooden muskets made at M?rbacka so that the children might learn to drill. He had even sent an old sergeant to the school to teach the youngsters the first military movements.

The sexton had an inspiration; he and his school children would march to M?rbacka on the Lieutenant's birthday! Shouldering their arms, and led by banner and drum, they came marching along the driveway. It looked as if a whole army were approaching. There were so many the line extended from the manservants' cottage all the way up to the dwelling-house veranda, where the sexton, who was in command, called Halt!

First, he said a few words to the effect that the children had come to thank Lieutenant Lagerl?f for considering that their bodies needed to be developed as well as their minds; then he let them demonstrate how well they could march--do right-about, left-about, close ranks, shoulder arms ...

It was a grand surprise the sexton had prepared for them all. The Lieutenant was delighted and his guests were pleased. What the old housekeeper, Mamselle Lovisa, and Fru Lagerl?f thought, when in the middle of a big party they had to serve coffee and cakes to some sixty youngsters, may be left to the imagination. After that, every time the seventeenth of August came round, they remembered with dismay the long procession of children, and hoped the sexton's army would not be so strong this year.

At the next year's celebration there were more people than ever. Carriages, pony-carts, and chaises came rolling up the avenue. In a short space of time some seventy or eighty persons had arrived. It was evident the report had travelled far and wide that they had many delightful diversions at M?rbacka not to be found elsewhere.

Then as dusk was falling, folk from all the countryside came flocking to M?rbacka. The avenue leading to the house was soon black with people. The Lieutenant thought it a pity they had taken the trouble to come when there was nothing to be seen.

After supper there was a little flutter of excitement and expectancy among the guests. Presently two gentlemen placed before the Lieutenant a flower-decked armchair, and bade him be seated. Instantly strong arms lifted him on high. Jan Asker struck up a march; the gentlemen offered their arms to the ladies, and all marched out into the night. But not for long did they walk in darkness. When they turned the corner of the house, the whole garden was a-light with row upon row of magic lanterns. The Lieutenant was borne along illuminated walks down to the little park. It was the first time anything of the sort had been attempted at M?rbacka. He was struck with wonder and amazement at the beauty of the scene. Could this be the ground that he and the old gardener had staked and measured only a few years back?

Exclamations of delight came from all sides. How dark and mysterious the copses; how deep and endless the paths appeared under their canopy of leaves; how the flowers shimmered and shone in the light of the multi-coloured lanterns; how the masses of foliage hung down from the trees like gorgeous draperies!

The procession halted in one of the glades of the park. The Lieutenant's chair was set down; and, as his dazzled eyes blinked into a grotto of leaves and flowers, Flora, on a pedestal, encircled by little nymphs, sang in a glorious voice a song of praise to the creator of the garden.

"Oh, Hedda!" the Lieutenant cried to the beautiful goddess of flowers, "I might have known that you would not forget me!"

IT IS about four in the afternoon of a seventeenth of August. The two smaller girls, Selma and Gerda, are dressing for the party. The housemaid pokes her head into the attic storeroom--the room the little girls are occupying temporarily, since their own has been placed at the convenience of visiting relatives.

"Selma and Gerda, you'll have to go down and receive," shouts the maid. "No one else is ready, and the first carriages are coming up the drive."

Now the little girls have to hurry; but at the same time they are thrilled with joy. Just think! It's beginning--the seventeenth of August is beginning!

They button up their frocks, pin on their kerchief rosettes, and run down. Not a grown person in sight! Not even their elder sister can help them receive, since she is attending a dress rehearsal of the evening's play.

The first arrivals, Herr Nilsson, his wife and four children, are already seated on the veranda. They always come too early to parties, but never so much so as on the seventeenth of August. The little girls do not wonder at that; for everyone must long to come to M?rbacka on such a day.

The time seems a bit long, perhaps, to the guests and their little hostesses before the next vehicle rolls up and the homefolk put in an appearance. But to-day is the Seventeenth, and one does not catch at trifles.

The next arrivals are Pastor Alfred Unger and family from West ?mtervik. They come in a two-horse carriage and have driven about thirteen English miles. The wagon is full of women and children; the parson himself, who is a real horseman, is handling the reins. Lieutenant Lagerl?f, ready at last, comes out on the veranda as the pastor drives in on the grounds.

"Say, Alfred!" he shouts, "what the deuce have you done to your horses? They're as like as two blackberries."

"Chut, chut! You mustn't betray any secrets on your birthday," Pastor Unger shouts back.

As a matter of fact, the parson had two fine carriage horses which would have been exactly alike but for a white spot on the forehead of one of them. He had hit upon the idea of inserting between the blinder-straps of each a piece of white leather, to make it appear that the horses were perfectly matched. No one would have detected the artifice if the pastor had not been so proud of his device that he had talked of it to right and left, and of course the Lieutenant had heard all about it.

But besides this conveyance from West ?mtervik comes a hayrick packed full of young people, relatives from Karlstad. Then wagon after wagon draws up. Here come the G?rdsj? folk--most delightful of guests! They have a long line of vehicles. They are a large family, and besides themselves they have brought Oriel and Georgina Afzelius, and Kristofer Wallroth and his young sister, Julia, who are staying with them.

In one of the G?rdsj? wagons there are some odd looking large white bundles, to be taken upstairs to the theatre. Selma and Gerda are very curious to know what those are for. The little Wallroth girls are sworn to secrecy; all they dare divulge is that Uncle Oriel has thought of something perfectly gorgeous.

Then who should come up but old Engineer Ivan Warberg from Angersby, with a cartful of pretty girls! A jubilant whoop from the veranda! What, a confirmed old bachelor like Ivan Warberg? Who would have thought it! They all know, to be sure, that the girls are his nieces, and his guests for the summer; but they can't resist the fun of teasing Ivan a bit.

The little Lagerl?f girls think it strange Fru Hedda does not appear. True, she no longer lives at East ?mtervik; but they hope she will come and do something jolly. Somehow, it would not be a real seventeenth of August unless she were there.

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