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Page 17
"I was not speaking of the country but of the houses," said Kajsa, "they
are only peasants' cabins--are they not, uncle?"
"In these peasants' cabins, your father and grandfather as well as
myself were born, my child," answered the doctor, gravely.
Kajsa blushed and remained silent.
"They are only wooden houses, but they answer as well as any," said
Erik.
"Often in the evening while my father mends his nets, and my mother is
busy with her spinning-wheel, we three sit on a little bench, Otto,
Vanda, and I, and we repeat together the old sagas, while we watch the
shadows that play upon the ceiling; and when the wind blows outside, and
all the fishermen are safe at home, it does one good to gather around
the blazing fire. We are just as happy as if we were in a beautiful room
like this."
"This is not the best room," said Kajsa proudly. "I must show you the
grand drawing-room, it is worth seeing!"
"But there are so many books in this one," said Erik, "are there as many
in the drawing-room?"
"Books--who cares for them? There are velvet armchairs, and sofas, lace
curtains, a splendid French clock, and carpets from Turkey!"
Erik did not appear to be fascinated by this description, but cast
envious glances toward the large oaken bookcase, which filled one side
of the parlor!
"You can go and examine the books, and take any you like," said the
doctor. Erik did not wait for him to repeat this permission. He chose a
volume at once, and seating himself in a corner where there was a good
light, he was soon completely absorbed in his reading. He hardly noticed
the successive entrance of two old gentlemen, who were intimate friends
of Dr. Schwaryencrona, and who came almost every evening to play a game
of whist with him.
The first who arrived was Professor Hochstedt, a large man with cold and
stately manners, who expressed in polished terms the pleasure which he
felt at the doctor's safe return. He was scarcely seated in the
arm-chair which had long borne the name of the "professor's seat," when
a sharp ring was heard.
"It is Bredejord," exclaimed the two friends simultaneously.
The door soon opened to admit a thin sprightly little man, who entered
like a gust of wind, seized both the doctor's hands, kissed Kajsa on the
forehead affectionately, greeted the professor, and cast a glance as
keen as that of a mouse around the room.
It was the Advocate Bredejord, one of the most illustrious lawyers of
Stockholm.
"Ha! Who is this?" said he, suddenly, as he beheld Erik.
The doctor tried to explain in as few words as possible.
"What--a young fisherman, or rather a boy from Bergen--and who reads
Gibbon in English?" he asked. For he saw at a glance what the book was
which so absorbed the little peasant.
"Does that interest you, my boy?" he asked.
"Yes, sir, it is a work that I have wanted to read for a long time, the
first volume of the 'Fall of the Roman Empire,'" answered Erik, simply.
"Upon my word," exclaimed the lawyer, "it appears that the peasants of
Bergen are fond of serious reading. But are you from Bergen?" he asked.
"I am from Noroe, which is not far from there," answered Erik.
"Ah, have they usually eyes and hair as brown as yours at Noroe?"
"No, sir; my brother and sister, and all the others, are blondes like
Miss Kajsa. But they are not dressed like her," he added, laughing;
"therefore they do not look much like her."
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