CHAPTER VIIIMADSHERLUFSENin the meantime sat for hours together looking across at Norby. In his eyes Norby Farm was a kind of fox’s den away there under the fir-clad slope, upon which he must keep watch to see what Reynard was doing.At the approach of crises in forest prices, and of political elections, it was always against Norby that Mads Herlufsen directed his moves. When he won he slapped his thigh and was in good spirits for more than a week. If Norby were successful he was as ashamed as if he had done something wrong himself. But although these two little kings thought of nothing but doing one another harm, at the same time they were good friends when they met. They warred upon one another chiefly because there was no other worthy opponent within a wide area.Mads Herlufsen now sat pursing up his mouth, looking across at Norby and wondering. “What does he mean by this?” he thought; for he was always accustomed to think this when Norby did anything. “It certainly isn’t that he wants toquarrel with Wangen, nor is it for the sake of the money. There must be something behind.”At last he discovered that Norby wanted to get Wangen punished in order to frustrate his composition, and thus force the brickfields under the hammer. It was the brickfields that Reynard wanted to get hold of this time.For a little time Mads Herlufsen sat rubbing his nose in disappointment at not being able to think of a counter-move. He did not care in the least whether Wangen were guilty or not; his only care was for Norby.“Do I want the brickfields? Bless me, no! But why should Norby have them?”At last a thought struck him. One of his farm labourers, Sören Kvikne, had once been in the employment of the deceased witness, Jörgen Haarstad. Wangen had no witnesses now that Haarstad was dead. Suppose Sören Kvikne could be utilised!He remembered what an honest man Sören Kvikne had always been, so he took out a bottle of brandy, and sent over to the men’s quarters for him, for the men were in at dinner.It was not a customary thing for the men to be called into the sitting-room of the farm; and when Sören Kvikne went in, he looked about cautiously to see where he should spit, and scarcely dared to seat himself upon the beautiful chair.But Herlufsen gave him a long pipe to smoke,and placed him on the sofa opposite himself, and after filling his glass two or three times, said to him:“Weren’t you once in the employment of Haarstad, Sören?”Sören Kvikne fingered his thin beard, and gazed in front of him with a melancholy stare. Oh yes! He was, he answered.“You can’t remember, I suppose, whether Haarstad ever mentioned anything about having signed his name as a witness for Wangen and Norby?”Sören Kvikne shook his head. He could not remember it at all.“Well, well,” said Herlufsen, “you must think a little, Sören.”Sören thought a little—but no!—no!“For it’s possible that the whole thing may depend upon you,” said Herlufsen.The man looked askance at his master; but Herlufsen was perfectly serious, and when he went away, told him to remember that the whole matter now depended upon him.When Sören Kvikne came back to the men’s room, he stood in the middle of the floor and asked in a loud voice whether any of the others had ever been in the farm parlour and drunk a dram and smoked a long pipe with the master.At this there was a roar of laughter, whereupon Sören grew angry, and let them know that the whole matter between Wangen and Norby now depended upon him.“Upon you?” exclaimed several voices; and some, who were reclining on the benches, sat up and looked curiously at him.“Yes, upon me,” said Sören, nodding his head. But there was nothing more to be got out of him; he was not a man to let his tongue run away with him.From that day he had no peace either day or night. Whenever he met his master, he was urged on with: “Haven’t you considered that matter yet?” It was quite true he had been in Haarstad’s service five years, and it was quite true that Haarstad and he had often talked together alone; but—but—. He scratched his ear a great many times a day. He talked to his wife about the matter, and his wife too said he must think a little. And Sören did think a little. He thought both day and night, since the whole matter now depended upon him.It couldn’t be that time Haarstad and he—no, no, it wasn’t then. No, if it was any time, then—then it must have been when they were painting the cariole together. Haarstad was painting the shafts, and he was doing the wheels and the body. They were standing in the sun behind the barn. And this scene, in which they painted the cariole, fastened itself little by little in Sören’s mind, until he gradually became certain that if there positively was a time when Haarstad confided the matter to him, it must have been then; and when he came to think of it, it certainly was on that occasion.When he told Herlufsen one day that he had thought the matter over, he could not understand why his master became so exceedingly affable. Herlufsen told him he might take a holiday for the rest of the day. He might go down to Wangen and ask to be called as a witness.
MADSHERLUFSENin the meantime sat for hours together looking across at Norby. In his eyes Norby Farm was a kind of fox’s den away there under the fir-clad slope, upon which he must keep watch to see what Reynard was doing.
At the approach of crises in forest prices, and of political elections, it was always against Norby that Mads Herlufsen directed his moves. When he won he slapped his thigh and was in good spirits for more than a week. If Norby were successful he was as ashamed as if he had done something wrong himself. But although these two little kings thought of nothing but doing one another harm, at the same time they were good friends when they met. They warred upon one another chiefly because there was no other worthy opponent within a wide area.
Mads Herlufsen now sat pursing up his mouth, looking across at Norby and wondering. “What does he mean by this?” he thought; for he was always accustomed to think this when Norby did anything. “It certainly isn’t that he wants toquarrel with Wangen, nor is it for the sake of the money. There must be something behind.”
At last he discovered that Norby wanted to get Wangen punished in order to frustrate his composition, and thus force the brickfields under the hammer. It was the brickfields that Reynard wanted to get hold of this time.
For a little time Mads Herlufsen sat rubbing his nose in disappointment at not being able to think of a counter-move. He did not care in the least whether Wangen were guilty or not; his only care was for Norby.
“Do I want the brickfields? Bless me, no! But why should Norby have them?”
At last a thought struck him. One of his farm labourers, Sören Kvikne, had once been in the employment of the deceased witness, Jörgen Haarstad. Wangen had no witnesses now that Haarstad was dead. Suppose Sören Kvikne could be utilised!
He remembered what an honest man Sören Kvikne had always been, so he took out a bottle of brandy, and sent over to the men’s quarters for him, for the men were in at dinner.
It was not a customary thing for the men to be called into the sitting-room of the farm; and when Sören Kvikne went in, he looked about cautiously to see where he should spit, and scarcely dared to seat himself upon the beautiful chair.
But Herlufsen gave him a long pipe to smoke,and placed him on the sofa opposite himself, and after filling his glass two or three times, said to him:
“Weren’t you once in the employment of Haarstad, Sören?”
Sören Kvikne fingered his thin beard, and gazed in front of him with a melancholy stare. Oh yes! He was, he answered.
“You can’t remember, I suppose, whether Haarstad ever mentioned anything about having signed his name as a witness for Wangen and Norby?”
Sören Kvikne shook his head. He could not remember it at all.
“Well, well,” said Herlufsen, “you must think a little, Sören.”
Sören thought a little—but no!—no!
“For it’s possible that the whole thing may depend upon you,” said Herlufsen.
The man looked askance at his master; but Herlufsen was perfectly serious, and when he went away, told him to remember that the whole matter now depended upon him.
When Sören Kvikne came back to the men’s room, he stood in the middle of the floor and asked in a loud voice whether any of the others had ever been in the farm parlour and drunk a dram and smoked a long pipe with the master.
At this there was a roar of laughter, whereupon Sören grew angry, and let them know that the whole matter between Wangen and Norby now depended upon him.
“Upon you?” exclaimed several voices; and some, who were reclining on the benches, sat up and looked curiously at him.
“Yes, upon me,” said Sören, nodding his head. But there was nothing more to be got out of him; he was not a man to let his tongue run away with him.
From that day he had no peace either day or night. Whenever he met his master, he was urged on with: “Haven’t you considered that matter yet?” It was quite true he had been in Haarstad’s service five years, and it was quite true that Haarstad and he had often talked together alone; but—but—. He scratched his ear a great many times a day. He talked to his wife about the matter, and his wife too said he must think a little. And Sören did think a little. He thought both day and night, since the whole matter now depended upon him.
It couldn’t be that time Haarstad and he—no, no, it wasn’t then. No, if it was any time, then—then it must have been when they were painting the cariole together. Haarstad was painting the shafts, and he was doing the wheels and the body. They were standing in the sun behind the barn. And this scene, in which they painted the cariole, fastened itself little by little in Sören’s mind, until he gradually became certain that if there positively was a time when Haarstad confided the matter to him, it must have been then; and when he came to think of it, it certainly was on that occasion.
When he told Herlufsen one day that he had thought the matter over, he could not understand why his master became so exceedingly affable. Herlufsen told him he might take a holiday for the rest of the day. He might go down to Wangen and ask to be called as a witness.