tales from two hemispheres[1].(两个半球的故事)-第30章
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〃So gladly tread I the dance with thee； O heigh
ho！〃
Truls knew the voices only too well； it was Syvert Stein and Borghild
who were singing a stave。＇8＇
＇8＇ A stave is an improvised responsive song。 It is an ancient
pastime in Norway； and is kept up until this day； especially among the
peasantry。 The students； also； at their social gatherings； throw
improvised rhymes to each other across the table； and the rest of the
company repeat the refrain。
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TALES FROM TWO HEMISPHERES。
SyvertLike brier…roses thy red cheeks blush； BorghildAnd thine
are rough like the thorny bush； BothAn' a heigho！
SyvertSo fresh and green is the sunny lea； O
heigh ho！ BorghildThe fiddle twangeth so merrily； O
heigh ho！ SyvertSo lightly goeth the lusty reel； BorghildAnd round we
whirl like a spinning…wheel； BothAn' a heigho！
SyvertThine eyes are bright like the sunny fjord；
O heigh ho！ BorghildAnd thine do flash like a Viking's sword；
O heigh ho！ SyvertSo lightly trippeth thy foot along； BorghildThe air is
teeming with joyful song； BothAn' a heigh ho！
SyvertThen fairest maid； while the woods are green；
O heigh ho！ BorghildAnd thrushes sing the fresh leaves between；
O heigh ho！ SyvertCome； let us dance in the gladsome day； Borghild
Dance hate； and sorrow； and care away； BothAn' a
heigh ho！
The stave was at an end。 The hot and flushed dancers straggled over
the floor by twos and threes； and the big beer…horns were passed from
hand to hand。 Truls sat in his corner hugging his violin tightly to his
bosom； only to do something； for he was vaguely afraid of himself afraid
of the thoughts that might riseafraid of the deed they might prompt。 He
ran his fingers over his forehead； but he hardly felt the touch of his own
hand。 It was as if something was dead within himas if a string had
snapped in his breast； and left it benumbed and voiceless。
Presently he looked up and saw Borghild standing before him； she
held her arms akimbo； her eyes shone with a strange light； and her features
wore an air of recklessness mingled with pity。
〃Ah； Borghild； is it you？〃 said he； in a hoarse voice。 〃What do you
want with me？ I thought you had done with me now。〃
〃You are a very unwitty fellow；〃 answered she； with a forced laugh。
〃The branch that does not bend must break。〃
She turned quickly on her heel and was lost in the crowd。 He sat
long pondering on her words； but their meaning remained hidden to him。
The branch that does not bend must break。 Was he the branch； and must
he bend or break？ By…and…by he put his hands on his knees； rose with a
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TALES FROM TWO HEMISPHERES。
slow； uncertain motion； and stalked heavily toward the door。 The fresh
night air would do him good。 The thought breathes more briskly in God's
free nature； under the broad canopy of heaven。 The white mist rose from
the fields； and made the valley below appear like a white sea whose
nearness you feel； even though you do not see it。 And out of the mist the
dark pines stretched their warning hands against the sky； and the moon
was swimming； large and placid； between silvery islands of cloud。 Truls
began to beat his arms against his sides； and felt the warm blood spreading
from his heart and thawing the numbness of his limbs。 Not caring
whither he went； he struck the path leading upward to the mountains。 He
took to humming an old air which happened to come into his head； only to
try if there was life enough left in him to sing。 It was the ballad of Young
Kirsten and the Merman：
〃The billows fall and the billows swell； In the night so lone；
In the billows blue doth the merman dwell； And strangely that harp
was sounding。〃
He walked on briskly for a while； and； looking back upon the pain he
had endured but a moment ago； he found it quite foolish and irrational。
An absurd merriment took possession of him； but all the while he did not
know where his foot stepped； his head swam； and his pulse beat feverishly。
About midway between the forest and the mansion； where the field sloped
more steeply； grew a clump of birch…trees； whose slender stems glimmered
ghostly white in the moonlight。 Something drove Truls to leave the
beaten road； and； obeying the impulse； he steered toward the birches。 A
strange sound fell upon his ear； like the moan of one in distress。 It did
not startle him； indeed； he was in a mood when nothing could have caused
him wonder。 If the sky had suddenly tumbled down upon him； with
moon and all； he would have taken it as a matter of course。 Peering for a
moment through the mist； he discerned the outline of a human figure。
With three great strides he reached the birch…tree； at his feet sat Borghild
rocking herself to and fro and weeping piteously。 Without a word he
seated himself at her side and tried to catch a glimpse of her face； but she
hid it from him and went on sobbing。 Still there could be no doubt that it
was Borghildone hour ago so merry； reckless； and defiant； now cowering
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TALES FROM TWO HEMISPHERES。
at his feet and weeping like a broken…hearted child。
〃Borghild；〃 he said； at last； putting his arm gently about her waist；
〃you and I； I think； played together when we were children。〃
〃So we did； Truls；〃 answered she； struggling with her tears。
〃And as we grew up； we spent many a pleasant hour with each other。〃
〃Many a pleasant hour。〃
She raised her head； and he drew her more closely to him。
〃But since then I have done you a great wrong；〃 began she； after a
while。
〃Nothing done that cannot yet be undone；〃 he took heart to answer。
It was long before her thoughts took shape； and； when at length they
did； she dared not give them utterance。 Nevertheless； she was all the
time conscious of one strong desire； from which her conscience shrank as
from a crime； and she wrestled ineffectually with her weakness until her
weakness prevailed。
〃I am glad you came；〃 she faltered。 〃I knew you would come。
There was something I wished to say to you。〃
〃And what was it； Borghild？〃
〃I wanted to ask you to forgive me〃
〃Forgive you〃
He sprang up as if something had stung him。
〃And why not？〃 she pleaded； piteously。
〃Ah； girl； you know not what you ask；〃 cried he； with a sternness
which startled her。 〃If I had more than one life to wastebut you caress
with one hand and stab with the other。 Fare thee well； Borghild； for here
our paths separate。〃
He turned his back upon her and began to descend the slope。
〃For God's sake； stay； Truls；〃 implored she； and stretched her arms
appealingly toward him； 〃tell me； oh； tell me all。〃
With a leap he was again at her side； stooped down over her； and； in a
hoarse； passionate whisper； spoke the secret of his life in her ear。 She
gazed for a moment steadily into his face； then； in a few hurried words；
she pledged him her love； her faith； her all。 And in the stillness of that
summer night they planned together their flight to a greater and freer land；
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where no world…old prejudice frowned upon the union of two kindred
souls。 They would wait in patience and silence until spring； then come
the fresh winds from the ocean； and； with them； the birds of passage which
awake the longings in the Norsernen's breasts； and the American vessels
which give courage to many a sinking spirit； strength to the wearied arm；
hope to the hopeless heart。
During that winter Truls and Borghild seldom saw each other。 The
parish was filled with rumors； and after the Christmas holiday it was told
for certain that the proud maiden of Skogli had been promised in marriage
to Syvert Stein。 It was the general belief that the families had made the
match； and that Borghild； at least； had hardly had any voice in the matter。
Another report was that she had flatly refused to listen to any proposal
from that quarter； and that； when she found that resistance was vain； she
had cried three days and three nights； and refused to take any food。
When this rumor reached the pastor's ear； he pronounced it an idle tale；
〃for；〃 said he； 〃Borghild has always been a proper and well…behaved
maiden； and she knows that she must honor father and mother； that it may
be well with her； and she live long upon the land。〃
But Borghild sat alone in her gable window and looked longingly
toward the ocean。 The glaciers glittered； the rivers swelled； the buds of
the forest burst； and great white sails began to glimmer on the far western
horizon。
If Truls； the Nameless； as scoffers were wont to call him； had been a
greater personage in the valley； it would； no doubt； have shocked the
gossips to know that one fine morning he sold his cow； his gun and his dog；
and wrapped sixty silver dollars in a leathern bag； which he sewed fast to
the girdle he wore about his waist。 That same night some one was heard
playing wildly up
