Part 24 (1/2)

However, it was impossible for him to keep any secret for long.

First one thing, then another, came out, and eventually Ditte had a pretty good idea of what had happened, and would discuss it with him. In the evenings, when the little ones were in bed, they would talk it over.

”But don't you think she was a real princess?” asked Ditte each time. She always came back to this--it appealed to her vivid imagination and love of adventure.

”The Lord only knows,” answered her father thoughtfully. He could not fathom how he could have been such a fool; he had managed so well with the Jews in the stable-yard. ”Ay, the Lord only knows!”

”And the Bandmaster,” said Ditte eagerly, ”he must have been a wonderful man.”

”Ay, that's true--a conjurer! He made I don't know how many drinks disappear without any one seeing how it was done. He held the gla.s.s on the table in his left hand, slapped his elbow with his right--and there it was empty.”

To Ditte it was a most exciting adventure, and incidents that had seemed far from pleasant to Lars Peter became wonders in Ditte's version of the affair. Lars Peter was grateful for the child's help, and together they spoke of it so long, that slowly, and without his being aware of it, the whole experience a.s.sumed quite a different aspect.

It certainly had been a remarkable evening. And the princess--yes, she must have been there in reality, strange though it sounded that a beggar like him should have been in such company. But the devil of a woman she was to drink and smoke. ”Ay, she was real enough--or I wouldn't have been so taken with her,” admitted he.

”Then you've slept with a real princess--just like the giant in the fairy tale,” broke out Ditte, clapping her hands in glee. ”You have, father!” She looked beamingly at him.

Lars Peter was silent with embarra.s.sment, and sat blinking at the lamp--he had not looked upon it in the innocent light of a fairy tale. To him it seemed--well, something rather bad--it was being unfaithful to Sorine.

”Ay, that's true,” said he. ”But then, will Mother forgive it?”

”Oh, never mind!” answered Ditte. ”But it was a good thing you didn't cut yourself!”

Lars Peter lifted his head, looking uncertainly at her.

”Ay, because there must have been a drawn sword between you--there always is. You see, princesses are too grand to be touched.”

”Oh--ay! that's more than likely.” Lars Peter turned this over in his mind. The explanation pleased him, and he took it to himself; it was a comforting idea. ”Ay, 'tis dangerous to have dealings with princesses, even though a man doesn't know it at the time,” said he.

Lars Peter thought no more of visiting Sorine in prison. He would have liked to see her and clasp her hand, even though it were only through an iron grating; but it was not to be. He must have patience until she had served her time.

To him the punishment was that they had to live apart in the coming years. He lacked imagination to comprehend Sorine's life behind prison walls, and therefore he could not think of her for long at a time. But unconsciously he missed her, so much so that he felt depressed.

Lars Peter was no longer eager to work--the motive power was lacking. He was too easily contented with things as they were; there was no-one to taunt him with being poorer than others. Ditte was too good-natured; she was more given to taking burdens on her own shoulders.

He had grown quieter, and stooped more than ever. He played less with the children, and his voice had lost some of its ring. He never sang now, as he drove up to the farms to trade; he felt that people gossiped about him and his affairs, and this took away his confidence. It made itself felt when housewives and maids no longer smiled and enjoyed his jokes or cleared out all their old rubbish for him. He was never invited inside now--he was the husband of a murderess! Trade dwindled away--not that he minded--it gave him more time with the children at home.

At the same time there was less to keep house on. But, thanks to Ditte, they sc.r.a.ped along; little as she was, she knew how to make both ends meet, so they did not starve.

There was now plenty of time for Lars Peter to build. Beams and stones lay all round as a silent reproach to him.

”Aren't you going to do anything with it?” Ditte would ask. ”Folk say it's lying there wasting.”

”Where did you hear that?” asked Lars Peter bitterly.

”Oh--at school!”

So they talked about that too! There was not much where he was concerned which was not torn to pieces. No, he had no desire to build. ”We've got a roof over our heads,” said he indifferently. ”If any one thinks our hut's not good enough, let them give us another.”

But the building materials remained there as an accusation; he was not sorry when they were overgrown with gra.s.s.