the bohemian girl-第8章

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to　tune　up　for　the　dance。　　Clara　was　to　accompany　them　on　her　old



upright　piano；　which　had　been　brought　down　from　her　father's。　　By



this　time　Nils　had　renewed　old　acquaintances。　　Since　his　interview



with　Clara　in　the　cellar；　he　had　been　busy　telling　all　the　old



women　how　young　they　looked；　and　all　the　young　ones　how　pretty　they



were；　and　assuring　the　men　that　they　had　here　the　best　farmland　in



the　world。　　He　had　made　himself　so　agreeable　that　old　Mrs。



Ericson's　friends　began　to　come　up　to　her　and　tell　how　lucky　she



was　to　get　her　smart　son　back　again；　and　please　to　get　him　to　play



his　flute。　　Joe　Vavrika；　who　could　still　play　very　well　when　he



forgot　that　he　had　rheumatism；　caught　up　a　fiddle　from　Johnny



Oleson　and　played　a　crazy　Bohemian　dance　tune　that　set　the　wheels



going。　　When　he　dropped　the　bow　every　one　was　ready　to　dance。







Olaf；　in　a　frock　coat　and　a　solemn　made…up　necktie；　led　the　grand



march　with　his　mother。　　Clara　had　kept　well　out　of　that



by　sticking　to　the　piano。　　She　played　the　march　with　a　pompous



solemnity　which　greatly　amused　the　prodigal　son；　who　went　over　and



stood　behind　her。







〃Oh；　aren't　you　rubbing　it　into　them；　Clara　Vavrika？　　And



aren't　you　lucky　to　have　me　here；　or　all　your　wit　would　be　thrown



away。〃







〃I'm　used　to　being　witty　for　myself。　　It　saves　my　life。〃







The　fiddles　struck　up　a　polka；　and　Nils　convulsed　Joe　Vavrika



by　leading　out　Evelina　Oleson；　the　homely　schoolteacher。　　His　next



partner　was　a　very　fat　Swedish　girl；　who；　although　she　was　an



heiress；　had　not　been　asked　for　the　first　dance；　but　had　stood



against　the　wall　in　her　tight；　high…heeled　shoes；　nervously



fingering　a　lace　handkerchief。　　She　was　soon　out　of　breath；　so　Nils



led　her；　pleased　and　panting；　to　her　seat；　and　went　over　to　the



piano；　from　which　Clara　had　been　watching　his　gallantry。　　〃Ask



Olena　Yenson；〃　she　whispered。　　〃She　waltzes　beautifully。〃







Olena；　too；　was　rather　inconveniently　plump；　handsome　in　a　smooth；



heavy　way；　with　a　fine　colour　and　good…natured；　sleepy　eyes。　　She



was　redolent　of　violet　sachet　powder；　and　had　warm；　soft；　white



hands；　but　she　danced　divinely；　moving　as　smoothly　as　the　tide



coming　in。　〃There；　that's　something　like；〃　Nils　said　as　he　released



her。　　〃You'll　give　me　the　next　waltz；　won't　you？　　Now　I　must　go　and



dance　with　my　little　cousin。〃







Hilda　was　greatly　excited　when　Nils　went　up　to　her　stall　and



held　out　his　arm。　　Her　little　eyes　sparkled；　but　she　declared　that



she　could　not　leave　her　lemonade。　　Old　Mrs。　Ericson；　who　happened



along　at　this　moment；　said　she　would　attend　to　that；　and　Hilda　came



out；　as　pink　as　her　pink　dress。　　The　dance　was　a　schottische；　and



in　a　moment　her　yellow　braids　were　fairly　standing　on　end。　



〃Bravo！〃　Nils　cried　encouragingly。　　〃Where　did　you　learn　to　dance



so　nicely？〃







〃My　Cousin　Clara　taught　me；〃　the　little　girl　panted。







Nils　found　Eric　sitting　with　a　group　of　boys　who　were　too



awkward　or　too　shy　to　dance；　and　told　him　that　he　must　dance　the



next　waltz　with　Hilda。







The　boy　screwed　up　his　shoulders。　　〃Aw；　Nils；　I　can't　dance。　



My　feet　are　too　big；　I　look　silly。〃







〃Don't　be　thinking　about　yourself。　　It　doesn't　matter　how　boys



look。〃







Nils　had　never　spoken　to　him　so　sharply　before；　and　Eric　made



haste　to　scramble　out　of　his　corner　and　brush　the　straw　from　his



coat。







Clara　nodded　approvingly。　　〃Good　for　you；　Nils。　　I've　been



trying　to　get　hold　of　him。　　They　dance　very　nicely　together；　I



sometimes　play　for　them。〃







〃I'm　obliged　to　you　for　teaching　him。　　There's　no　reason　why　he



should　grow　up　to　be　a　lout。〃







〃He'll　never　be　that。　　He's　more　like　you　than　any　of　them。　



Only　he　hasn't　your　courage。〃　　From　her　slanting　eyes　Clara　shot



forth　one　of　those　keen　glances；　admiring　and　at　the　same　time



challenging；　which　she　seldom　bestowed　on　any　one；　and　which　seemed



to　say；　〃Yes；　I　admire　you；　but　I　am　your　equal。〃







Clara　was　proving　a　much　better　host　than　Olaf；　who；　once　the



supper　was　over；　seemed　to　feel　no　interest　in　anything　but　the



lanterns。　　He　had　brought　a　locomotive　headlight　from



town　to　light　the　revels；　and　he　kept　skulking　about　as　if　he



feared　the　mere　light　from　it　might　set　his　new　barn　on　fire。



His　wife；　on　the　contrary；　was　cordial　to　every　one；　was



animated　and　even　gay。　　The　deep　salmon　colour　in　her　cheeks　burned



vividly；　and　her　eyes　were　full　of　life。　　She　gave　the　piano　over



to　the　fat　Swedish　heiress；　pulled　her　father　away　from　the　corner



where　he　sat　gossiping　with　his　cronies；　and　made　him　dance　a



Bohemian　dance　with　her。　　In　his　youth　Joe　had　been　a　famous



dancer；　and　his　daughter　got　him　so　limbered　up　that　every　one　sat



around　and　applauded　them。　　The　old　ladies　were　particularly



delighted；　and　made　them　go　through　the　dance　again。　　From　their



corner　where　they　watched　and　commented；　the　old　women　kept　time



with　their　feet　and　hands；　and　whenever　the　fiddles　struck　up　a　new



air　old　Mrs。　Svendsen's　white　cap　would　begin　to　bob。







Clara　was　waltzing　with　little　Eric　when　Nils　came　up　to　them；



brushed　his　brother　aside；　and　swung　her　out　among　the　dancers。　



〃Remember　how　we　used　to　waltz　on　rollers　at　the　old　skating　rink



in　town？　　I　suppose　people　don't　do　that　any　more。　　We　used　to　keep



it　up　for　hours。　　You　know；　we　never　did　moon　around　as　other　boys



and　girls　did。　　It　was　dead　serious　with　us　from　the　beginning。　



When　we　were　most　in　love　with　each　other；　we　used　to　fight。　　You



were　always　pinching　people；　your　fingers　were　like　little　nippers。







A　regular　snapping　turtle；　you　were。　　Lord；　how　you'd　like



Stockholm！　　Sit　out　in　the　streets　in　front　of　cafes　and　talk　all



night　in　summer。　just　like　a　receptionofficers　and　ladies　and



funny　English　people。　　Jolliest　people　in　the　world；　the　Swedes；



once　you　get　them　going。　　Always　drinking　thingschampagne　and



stout　mixed；　half…and…half；　serve　it　out　of　big　pitchers；　and　serve



plenty。　　Slow　pulse；　you　know；　they　can　stand　a　lot。　　Once　they



light　up；　they're　glowworms；　I　can　tell　you。〃







〃All　the　same；　you　don't　really　like　gay　people。〃







〃I　don't？〃







〃No；　I　could　tell　that　when　you　were　looking　at　the　old　women



there　this　afternoon。　　They're　the　kind　you　really　admire；　after



all；　women　like　your　mother。　　And　that's　the　kind　you'll　marry。〃







〃Is　it；　Miss　Wisdom？　　You'll　see　who　I'll　marry；　and　she



won't　have　a　domestic　virtue　to　bless　herself　with。　　She'll　be　a



snapping　turtle；　and　she'll　be　a　match　for　me。　　All　the　same；



they're　a　fine　bunch　of　old　dames　over　there。　　You　admire　them



yourself







〃No；　I　don't；　I　detest　them。〃







〃You　won't；　when　you　look　back　on　them　from　Stockholm　or



Budapest。　　Freedom　settles　all　that。　　Oh；　but　you're　the　real



Bohemian　Girl；　Clara　Vavrika！〃　　Nils　laughed　down　at　her　sullen



frown　and　began　mockingly　to　sing：







　　　　　　　〃Oh；　how　could　a　poor　gypsy　maiden　like　me



　　　　　　　Expect　the　proud　bride　of　a　baron　to　be？〃







Clara　clutched　his　shoulder。　　〃Hush；　Nils；　every　one　is　looking　at



you。〃







〃I　don't　care。　　They　can't　gossip。　　It's　all　in　the　family；　as



the　Ericsons　say　when　they　divide　up　little　Hilda's　patrimony



amongst　them。　　Besides；　we'll　give　them　something　to　talk　about



when　we　hit　the　trail。　　Lord；　it　will　be　a　godsend　to　them！　　They



haven't　had　anything　so　interesting　to　chatter　about　since　the



grasshopper　year。　　It'll　give　them　a　new　lease　of　life。　　And　Olaf



won't　lose　the　Bohemian　vote；　either。　　They'll　have　the　laugh　on



him　so　that　they'll　vote　two　apiece。　　They'll　send　him　to　Congress。



They'll　never　forget　his　barn　party；　or　us。　　They'll　always



remember　us　as　we're　dancing　together　now。　　We're　making　a　legend。　



Where's　my　waltz；　boys？〃　he　called　as　they　whirled　past　the



fiddlers。







The　musicians　grinned；　looked　at　each　other；　hesitated；　and



began　a　new　air；　and　Nils　sang　with　them；　as　the　couples　fell　from



a　quick　waltz　to　a　long；　slow　glide：







　　　　　　　　　　　〃When　other　lips　and　other　hearts



　　　　　　　　　　　　Their　tale　of　love　shall　tell；



　　　　　　　　　　　　In　language　whose　excess　imparts



　　　　　　　　　　　　The　power　they　feel　so　well。〃







The　old　women　applauded　vigorously。　　〃What　a　gay　one　he　is；



that　Nils！〃　　And　old　Mrs。　Svendsen's　cap　lurched　dreamily



from　side　to　side　to　the　flowing　measure　of　the　dance。







　　　　　　　　　　Of　days　that　have　as　ha…a…p…py　been；



　　　　　　　　　　And　you'll　remember　me。〃











　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　VII







The　moonlight　flooded　that　great；　silent　land。　　The　reaped



fields　lay　yellow　in　it。　　The　straw　stacks　and　poplar　windbreaks



threw　sharp　black　shadows。　　The　roads　were　white　rivers　of　dust。　



The　sky　was　a　deep；　crystalline　blue；　and　the　stars　were　few　and



faint。　　Everything　seemed　to　have　succumbed；　to　have　sunk　to　sleep；



under　the　great；　golden；　tender；　midsummer　moon。　　The　splendour　of



it　seemed　to　transcend　human　life　and　human　fate。　　The　senses　were



too　feeble　to　take　it　in；　and　every　time　one　looked　up　at　the　sky



one　felt　unequal　to　it；　as　if　one　were　sitting　deaf　under　the　waves



of　a　great　river　of　melody。　　Near　the　road；　Nils　Ericson　was　lying



against　a　straw　stack　in　Olaf's　wheat　field。　　His　own　life　seemed



strange　and　unfamiliar　to　him；　as　if　it　were　something　he　had　read



about；　or　dreamed；　and　forgotten。　　He　lay　very　still；　watching　the



white　road　that　ran　in　front　of　him；　lost　itself　among　the　fields；



and　then；　at　a　distance；　reappeared　over　a　little　hill。　　At　last；



against　this　white　band　he　saw　something　moving　rapidly；　and　he　got



up　and　walked　to　the　edge　of　the　field。　　〃She　is　passing　the　row　of



poplars　now；〃　he　thought。　　He　heard　the　padded　beat　of　hoofs　along



the　dusty　road；　and　as　she　came　into　sight　he　stepped　out　and　waved



his　arms。　　Then；　for　fear　of　frightening　the　horse；　he　drew　back



and　waited。　　Clara　had　seen　him；　and　she　came　up　at　a　walk。　　Nils



took　the　horse　by　the　bit　and　stroked　his　neck。







〃What　are　you　doing　out　so　late；　Clara　Vavrika？　　I　went　to　the



house；　but　Johanna　told　me　you　had　gone　to　your　father's。〃







〃Who　can　stay　in　the　house　on　a　night　like　this？　　Aren't　you



out　yourself？〃







〃Ah；　but　that's　another　matter。〃







Nils　turned　the　ho