Part 23 (2/2)
Halvor was very restless, and wanted to go right on again, but the woman said there was no need to hurry. ”Lie down on the bench by the stove, and take a nap, for we have no bed for you,” said she. ”I will watch for the West Wind's coming.”
All of a sudden the West Wind came rus.h.i.+ng along so that the walls creaked. The woman ran out: ”You West Wind! You West Wind! Can you tell me the way to Soria-Moria Castle? There is a fellow here who wants to know.” ”Yes, indeed,” said the West Wind, ”I have to go to that very place, and dry the wash for the wedding soon to be held. If he is quick afoot, he may come along with me.” Halvor ran out. ”You must hurry if you are going with me,” said the West Wind; and at once he was up and off over hill and dale, land and sea, so that Halvor could hardly keep up with him. ”Now I have no more time to keep you company,” said the West Wind, ”because I have first to tear down a stretch of pine forest, before I come to the bleaching-field and dry the wash. But if you keep going along the hills, you will meet some girls standing there and was.h.i.+ng, and then you will not be far from Soria-Moria Castle.”
After a time Halvor came to the girls who were was.h.i.+ng, and they asked him whether he had seen anything of the West Wind, who was to come and dry the clothes for the wedding. ”Yes,” said Halvor. ”He is only tearing down a stretch of pine forest, and will soon be here,” and then he asked the way to Soria-Moria Castle. They showed it to him, and when he reached the castle it was fairly alive with men and horses. But Halvor was so tattered and torn because he had followed the West Wind over stick and stone, and through thick and thin, that he kept to one side, and could not come forward until the last day of the feast. Then all the folk, as was the custom, had to drink the health of the bride and groom, and the cupbearer had to pledge all of them in turn, knights and serving-men. So at length they came to Halvor. Halvor drank the health, and then let the ring which the princess had put on his finger when he lay by the water fall into the gla.s.s, and told the cupbearer to greet the bride, and bring her the ring. And the princess at once rose from the table. ”Who do you think has first claim to the hand of one of us,” she asked, ”the man who delivered us, or the one who now sits here in the bridegroom's place?” There was only one opinion as to that, and when Halvor heard it, he did not delay, but cast off his rags and dressed himself as a bridegroom. ”Yes, he is the right one!” cried the youngest princess when she caught sight of him, and she drove the other one away, and celebrated her wedding with Halvor.
NOTE
The ”Soria-Moria Castle” (Asbjornsen and Moe, N.F.E., No. 27, p. 115) occurs in Ibsen's Per Gynt as a fabled fairy-palace. The hero cannot hold his tongue at the right time, and as a result loses the princess for whom he had so strenuously fought. The recognition of Halvor by his mother by the flickering light of the hearth-fire, in whose ashes Halvor was always digging when a boy, is touchingly told.
x.x.xVII
THE PLAYER ON THE JEW'S-HARP
Some two or three generations ago, a three-year-old ox, belonging to some people who lived in an alpine meadow in Westfjall, disappeared. And look for him as they would, they could not find him, and in the fall they moved down into the valley again. But while the grandmother was skimming the cream from the milk-pans in the lean-to the day before their departure, and the oldest maid in the hut was scooping the cheese out of the big kettle, a little shepherd girl came running up, and called out that the big ox was standing at the salt-lick, and licking the salt. When the mother stepped out for a moment, she saw nothing that looked at all like an ox. So she thought the little girl had probably been mistaken; but the little one insisted that the big ox had been there.
”I saw the white spot he had on his forehead, and he had broken off one of his horns,” said she. The man himself and his two sons were each out searching in a different direction, and they searched and searched; but all three came back at evening, and none of them had found anything.
When they heard the little girl's story, one of the sons flung himself on his horse, and rode home at full gallop, in order to fetch his gun; loaded it with small splinters from a steel arrow, hurried back posthaste, and shot it off cross-wise over the salt-lick. ”If the ox is bewitched, he ought to appear now,” said he. But it was of no use, the ox was gone and he stayed gone.
The oldest son was to go up on the hill once more, and take a good look all around. And he searched in every direction, far and near, until he thought he could smell the ox; yet in spite of this, he could see no sign of a living being anywhere, all day long. Finally he grew angry, and swore that for his part, the bewitched beast might go to the end of the world; if he did not want to join the rest of the herd, he could please himself. With that he turned around, and went to the herdsman's hut as fast as he could, meaning to take home with him the bear he had shot.
And there, at the fence of the herdsman's hut, stood the great ox licking salt. And one of his horns had been broken off. Where he had been knocking about so long he himself probably knew, the young fellow did not.
But now day was so nearly over that he could just about reach home if he went as he was, and hurried as fast as he could. But if he had to lead and pull along the ox besides, it would have been pitch-dark before he had fairly started. And let me tell you, the fall nights are really dark, and cold besides, and it is not wise to camp under the open sky in the mountains. For this reason he decided to wait until morning, though a night at the herdsman's hut would be bleak and lonely. So he chopped a good armful of birch-boughs, laid them on the hearth, and soon the hut grew warm and comfortable, and as bright as a room lit with Christmas candles. When he had eaten his supper, he threw himself down on the bed of planks, pulled his jew's-harp out of his waistcoat pocket, and began to play the ”Bells of St. Thomas” round. But he had not been playing long before he fell asleep, with the instrument in his mouth. Suddenly he woke again, and it seemed to him that he could hear something rustling softly at the other end of the hut. He turned his head slightly, and saw a beautiful young girl standing by the table, braiding her hair. It was so long that it fell down over her hips, and as lovely and s.h.i.+ny as though it had been gilded. At first the young fellow could not see her face, but once, when she happened to turn in his direction, it seemed to him that she was the fairest and finest-looking maiden he had ever laid eyes on. Her like could not have been found far or near, and he knew every girl in the parish, well-to-do or otherwise. The young fellow did not dare address her, for she thought herself alone, and looked so dear and trustful that he dreaded frightening her away. So he lay there as still as a mouse, and did not venture to move so much as a foot.
Suddenly in came another girl; but she appeared to be coa.r.s.er, and had a large mouth and dark complexion, not as clear and fresh as that of the first girl; and she did not please him as well. Both were dressed alike, in green jackets and bodices of red satin, blue stockings, and with bright silver buckles on their shoes. The younger maiden had white sleeves, that were so fresh and clean they fairly shone. Her bodice was cut low, and showed a handsome round clasp, which tinkled delicately whenever the maiden made the slightest move. And now the young fellow realized what sort of maidens these were, and could not get over his astonishment that there were such beautiful women among the underground folk. It was Sat.u.r.day evening, and this was probably the reason they were dressing and adorning themselves so busily: no doubt they were expecting company or suitors. The young fellow could not make out what they said to each other, for they whispered so softly that he only caught a word now and then. Once they spoke of a little white lamb that had gone lame that day.
”Yes, it is the fault of that young fellow who has been rus.h.i.+ng around in all the empty huts among the hills, looking for his fire-red ox. I saw him throw a stone at the little lamb,” said the older girl, the one with the large mouth and dark skin. ”He really should be punished for that!” said she.
”Yes, but he never knew it was a lamb,” replied the younger one, the beauty with the red cheeks. ”And it was not right of grandmother to hide his ox, and make him hunt for it far and near.”
”He might have taken his ox, for it was standing just beside the hut, and he ran right past it,” said the other girl.
”Yes, but you know he took it to be a rat,” the younger one answered.
”O, how stupid those people are,” said the older one again, and laughed until she shook. ”They pretend to be wiser than wise, and cannot even tell a fire-red ox from a rat! Ha, ha, ha!” and she laughed so heartily that her sister was also carried away, and the young fellow himself could not help but smile a bit.
After a time he began to play a boisterous dance-tune. And what a fright it gave the girls! They screamed, ran off helter-skelter in their terror, and were gone in a flash. But the young fellow kept on playing.
After a little while one of them thrust in her head at the door, and when they saw what had frightened them so, they began to whisper and giggle outside, in front of the hut. And after a time they ventured in again, and began to dance to the music. And those girls could really swing around and use their legs. They almost flew over the uneven floor, and were so sure of the time that every step they took was in place.
When they had danced a while, and the young fellow had made their acquaintance--or thought that he had--he unclasped his belt, and pa.s.sing it around the handsomer of the two, drew her to him. And she allowed him to do so. This angered the young fellow, for he would not have believed that so dainty and lovely a girl would have allowed him to act so familiarly on such short acquaintance. And as though by chance, he let go one end of his belt and swis.h.!.+--off she was. Her sister ran after her, and slammed the door behind her.
Now the young fellow was angry with himself because he had been angry with her. But he thought he was probably not worthy of obtaining the hand of so fair and loveable a maiden, for there is an old saw to the effect that none may escape their fate. Finally he thought that perhaps he could coax her back again with his music, and he played one tune after another, the most beautiful ones he knew. But the _huldra_ maidens did not appear again. At last his hands and mouth grew so tired that he had to stop. And then he happened to think of ”The Blue Melody,” which a minstrel from his part of the country had learned in ancient times from the underground folk. No sooner had he commenced it than both girls came sweeping in once more.
”You play beautifully, you do!” said the younger.
”One has to play beautifully when one has such beautiful listeners,”
returned the young fellow.
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