Part 2 (1/2)
A CHILD IS BORN
There are a milliard and a half of stars in the heavens, and--as far as we know--a milliard and a half of human beings on the earth.
Exactly the same number of both! One would almost think the old saying was right,--that every human being was born under his own star. In hundreds of costly observatories all over the world, on plain and mountain, talented scientists are adjusting the finest instruments and peering out into the heavens. They watch and take photographic plates, their whole life taken up with the one idea: to make themselves immortal with having discovered a new star. Another celestial body--added to the milliard and a half already moving gracefully round.
Every second a human soul is born into the world. A new flame is lit, a star which perhaps may come to s.h.i.+ne with unusual beauty, which in any case has its own unseen spectrum. A new being, fated, perhaps, to bestow genius, perhaps beauty around it, kisses the earth; the unseen becomes flesh and blood. No human being is a repet.i.tion of another, nor is any ever reproduced; each new being is like a comet which only once in all eternity touches the path of the earth, and for a brief time takes its luminous way over it--a phosph.o.r.escent body between two eternities of darkness. No doubt there is joy amongst human beings for every newly lit soul! And, no doubt they will stand round the cradle with questioning eyes, wondering what this new one will bring forth.
Alas, a human being is no star, bringing fame to him who discovers and records it! More often, it is a parasite which comes upon peaceful and unsuspecting people, sneaking itself into the world--through months of purgatory. G.o.d help it, if into the bargain it has not its papers in order.
Sorine's little one had bravely pushed itself into the light of day, surmounting all obstacles, denial, tears and preventatives, as a salmon springs against the stream. Now she lay in the daylight, red and wrinkled, trying to soften all hearts.
The whole of the community had done with her, she was a parasite and nothing else. A newly born human being is a figure in the transaction which implies proper marriage and settling down, and the next step which means a cradle and perambulator and--as it grows up--an engagement ring, marriage and children again. Much of this procedure is upset when a child like Sorine's little one is vulgar enough to allow itself to be born without marriage.
She was from the very first treated accordingly, without maudlin consideration for her tender helplessness. ”Born out of wedlock”
was entered on her certificate of birth which the midwife handed to the schoolmaster when she had helped the little one into the world, and the same was noted on the baptismal certificate. It was as if they all, the midwife, the schoolmaster and the parson, leaders of the community, in righteous vengeance were striking the babe with all their might. What matter if the little soul were begotten by the son of a farmer, when he refused to acknowledge it, and bought himself out of the marriage? A nuisance she was, and a blot on the industrious orderly community.
She was just as much of an inconvenience to her mother as to all the others. When Sorine was up and about again, she announced that she might just as well go out to service as all her sisters had done.
Her fear of strangers had quite disappeared: she took a place a little further inland. The child remained with the grandparents.
No one in the wide world cared for the little one, not even the old people for that matter. But all the same Maren went up into the attic and brought out an old wooden cradle which had for many years been used for yarn and all kinds of lumber; Soren put new rockers, and once more Maren's old, swollen legs had to accustom themselves to rocking a cradle again.
A blot the little one was to her grandparents too--perhaps, when all is said and done, on them alone. They had promised themselves such great things of the girl--and there lay their hopes--an illegitimate child in the cradle! It was brought home to them by the women running to Maren, saying: ”Well, how do you like having little ones again in your old days?” And by the other fishermen when Soren Man came to the harbor or the inn. His old comrades poked fun at him good-naturedly and said: ”All very well for him--strong as a young man and all, Soren, you ought to stand treat all round.”
But it had to be borne--and, after all, it could be got over. And the child was--when one got one's hand in again--a little creature who recalled so much that otherwise belonged to the past. It was just as if one had her oneself--in a way she brought youth to the house.
It was utterly impossible not to care for such a helpless little creature.
CHAPTER IV
DITTE'S FIRST STEP
Strange how often one bears the child while another cares for it.
For old Maren it was not easy to be a mother again, much as her heart was in it. The girl herself had got over all difficulties, and was right away in service in another county; and here was the babe left behind screaming.
Maren attended to it as well as she could, procured good milk and gave it soaked bread and sugar, and did all she could to make up for its mother.
Her daughter she could not make out at all. Sorine rarely came home, and preferably in the evening when no one could see her; the child she appeared not to care for at all. She had grown strong and erect, not in the least like the slender, freckled girl who could stand next to nothing. Her blood had thickened and her manners were decided; though that, of course, has happened before,--an ailing woman transformed by having a child, as one might say, released from witchcraft.
Ditte herself did not seem to miss a mother's tender care: she grew well in spite of the artificial food, and soon became so big that she could keep wooden shoes on her small feet, and, with the help of old Soren's hand, walk on the downs. And then she was well looked after.
However, at times things would go badly. For Maren had quite enough of her own work to do, which could not be neglected, and the little one was everywhere. And difficult it was suddenly to throw up what one had in hand--letting the milk boil over and the porridge burn--for the sake of running after the little one. Maren took a pride in her housework and found it hard at times to choose between the two. Then, G.o.d preserve her: the little one had to take her chance.
Ditte took it as it came and could be thankful that she was with her grandparents. She was an inquisitive little being, eager to meddle with everything; and a miracle it was that the firewood did not fall down. Hundreds of times in the day did she get into sc.r.a.pes, heedless and thoughtless as she was. She would rush out, and lucky it was if there was anything to step on, otherwise she would have fallen down. Her little head was full of bruises, and she could never learn to look after herself in spite of all the knocks she got. It was too bad to be whipped into the bargain! When the hurt was very bad, Grandfather had to blow it, or Granny put the cold blade of the bread-knife on the bruise to make it well again.
”Better now,” said she, turning a smiling face towards her granny; the tears still hanging on the long lashes, and her cheeks gradually becoming roughened by them.