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Page 22
The evening was dull and rainy, and a light already shone in the cottage
as Begmand and Marianne approached.
"There they are, drinking again," said she.
"I believe they are," answered Begmand.
She went to the window, the small panes of which were covered with dew,
but she knew one which had a crack in it, through which she could look.
"There they are, all four of them," whispered Marianne. "You'll have to
sit there, in front of the kitchen door, grandfather."
"Yes, child; yes!" answered the old man.
When they entered the room, there was a pause in the conversation, which
was carried on by four men who sat drinking round the table. They had
not long begun, and were only in the first stage of harmless elevation.
Martin greeted them in a cheerful tone, which he thought would hide his
guilty conscience. "Good evening, grandfather. Good evening, Marianne.
Come, let me offer you a drop of beer."
The thick smoke from the freshly lighted pipes still lay curling over
the table, and round the little paraffin lamp without a globe. On the
table were tobacco, glasses, matches, and half-empty bottles, while on
the bench stood several full ones awaiting their fate.
Tom Robson, who sat opposite the door, lifted the large mug which had
been standing between him and his friend Martin, and, with his hand on
his heart, began to sing--
"Oh, my darling! are you here,
Marianne I love so dear?"
He had composed this couplet himself, in honour of Marianne, to the
great annoyance of the hungry-looking journeyman printer who sat in the
corner close by him.
Gustaf Oscar Carl Johan Torpander was a most remarkable Swede, inasmuch
as he did not drink; but otherwise there was about him that exaggerated
air of politeness, and that imitation of French manners, which seems
generally to attach to the shady individuals of that nation. He had
risen when Marianne came into the room, and was now making a low bow,
with his shoulders, and especially the left one, well over his ears. His
head was on one side, and he kept his eyes the whole time fixed on the
young girl. While Tom Robson was singing his poetry, the Swede shook his
head with a sympathetic smile to Marianne, by which he meant to express
his regret that they met in such bad company.
The fourth person of the group was sitting with his back to the door,
and did not move, for he was deaf; but when at length the Swede, who was
still bowing, attracted his attention, he turned round heavily on his
chair and nodded deafly to the new-comers. This person's real name had
almost disappeared from the memory of man, for he had been nicknamed
"Woodlouse" among his acquaintance. Mr. Woodlouse passed his time in a
dingy den in the magistrate's office, where he either slept or occupied
himself in sorting documents and papers. But there he had grown to be
almost a necessity, for he had the special gift of knowing the contents
of every paper, and the name of every single person who for years had
sought information at the office. He could stand in the middle of the
room and point to the different shelves, and say, apparently without
effort, what each contained, and what was missing. He had thus gone down
as a kind of living inventory from magistrate to magistrate, and as his
special knowledge increased he endeavoured to get his salary raised, so
that he might give himself up recklessly to his two ruling passions,
which were drinking beer and reading novels at night.
As Marianne went through the room she moved her grandfather's chair
close to the kitchen door, and gave him a meaning look. He nodded to
show that he understood her wishes. She then said good night to the old
man, and went into the kitchen, from whence a little dark staircase led
upstairs to her room.
Marianne locked her door and went to bed. She was so tired every night
that she could scarcely keep her eyes open while she undressed, and she
fell asleep the moment she got into bed. Under her the noise of voices
continued, varied by quarrelling and cursing, which mingled with the
dreams of her heavy and broken slumber. In the morning her hair and
pillow were damp with perspiration; she was chilled with cold, and was
even more tired than when she went to rest.
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