Garman And Worse A Norwegian Novel by Alexander Lange Kielland (best ereader for pdf and epub txt) 📕

Same Subject."

"I Am Always Glad To Talk With You," Answered Rachel,  Fixing Her Eyes

Upon Him. Rachel Had The Same Clear Blue Eyes As Her Father,  To Whom,  In

Fact,  She Bore Considerable Resemblance,  Even In The Slight Projection

Of Her Under Jaw. Her Dark Hair Was Faintly Tinged With Red,  Especially

At The Temples,  And Her Tall And Well-Built Figure Rendered Her

Appearance Rather More Imposing Than Attractive. The Young Men Generally

Were Absolutely Afraid Of Her,  And She Had The Reputation Of Being

Terribly Learned And Sarcastic,  Which Was Considered To Be A Great Pity,

As In Other Respects She Was A Most Desirable _Parti_. Mr. Johnsen Did

Not Notice Any Of These Peculiarities: All He Thought Of Was Leading The

Conversation Into The Direction He Desired. At Length He Was Successful.

He Spoke With Ever-Increasing Earnestness On The Change That Had Taken

Place In Him; How That She Had Not Only Roused Him To Meditation,  But

Had Also Imparted To Him A Desire For Work,  For Which He Must Now Find

Vent. He Had Come To Her To Be Told How And Where He Was To Begin.

Rachel Seemed Somewhat Embarrassed. "It Is Not So Easy For Me," She

Answered,  "Who As A Woman Am Debarred From A Life Of Action,  If Even I

Had The Wish For It,  To Advise You How You Ought To Begin."

"I Am Ready For Anything," Cried He,  Excitedly. "I Am Ready To Write Or

Speak Against The Abuses I See Everywhere Around Me. I Am Ready To Cut

Myself Adrift From The Calling I Have Adopted,  If It Must Be. I Will Not

Leave A Single Corner Of My Innermost Heart Concealed,  But Will Lay Open

My Convictions As A Man Ought To Do."

His Young Friend Was Too Wary To Allow Herself To Be Carried Away By

This Sudden Outburst,  Which She Could Not But Regard With Some

Misgiving.

"I Think You Ought To Consider," She Began,  "That What We Have Hitherto

Been Speaking Of Is A Mere Matter Of Scattered Detail; There Is Scarcely

Any Irreconcilable Want Of Agreement Between Your Ideas And Those Of

Christianity In General."

"But Christianity Requires Either An Entire Belief Or Else None At All,

And I Do Not Care To Continue In My Doubtful Position Any Longer."

"Yes; And Besides," She Continued,  "I Am Quite Willing To Confess That I

Consider These Forms And Dogmas Of But Very Slight Importance. Our

Conversation Has Only Turned Particularly On These Points From The Fact

That You Hold A Position In The Church."

"But That Is Not What We Have Been Talking About," Answered He,

Excitedly; "The Real Gist Of The Matter Is,  That You Have Been Trying To

Rouse In Me A Consciousness Of The Personal Responsibility Which Follows

Conviction."

"Yes," Answered She,  "You Are Quite Right; That Is Exactly What I Was

Aiming At."

"Whether I Am In The Church Or Not,  Then,  Is Not The Question. What Is

Really Important Is To Be A Man--Man Enough To Have A Conviction,  And

Man Enough To Stand By It."

His Vehemence And Honesty Overcame Rachel'S Scruples,  And She Answered

Hastily,  And Almost With A Feeling Of Relief,  "Yes,  That Is The Point;

It Is Exactly Sincerity Which Is So Rarely Met With. This Is The

Principle Which I Can Myself Scarcely Hope To Carry Out To Its Full

Extent. What Weight Does The Conviction Of A Woman Carry With It,  In a

Society Like Ours? But My Whole Sympathy Is Excited Whenever I See

Sincerity Struggling To The Light. And That Is Why I Believe That You

Are On The Right Path Now,  That You Have Entered Upon This Combat With

Falsehood. It Is Better To Be Utterly Beaten In The Battle Than To Lead

A Peaceful But Insincere Life."

Her Clear Blue Eyes Sparkled As She Spoke. He Looked At Her With

Rapture,  And With A Sudden Change Of Manner That Was Characteristic Of

Him,  He Said In a Calm,  Quiet Voice:

"I Will Live A Life Of Falsehood No Longer!" He Took A Few Steps,  And

Said Slowly And With Emphasis,  "I Will Ask The Provost'S Permission To

Preach In The Church Next Sunday; I Have,  In Fact,  Already Said

Something To Him About It. I Want To Tell The Congregation--"

"It Would,  Perhaps,  Be Scarcely Worth While," Said Rachel,  "To Go Too

Much Into Details."

"No,  That Was Not My Intention. I Wish To Bring Forward The Importance

Of Sincerity. I Will Tell Them Plainly That I Have My Doubts,  And That

God Is To Be Found In Truthfulness,  And Not In Mere Forms; And I Wish

Especially To Examine The Position Of Those Of My Own Calling,  Who Even

More Than Others Are Fettered By Forms And Ceremonies."

"It May Cost You Your Future; And In any Case You Will Make Many

Enemies."

"But Perhaps I May Make One Friend."

"You Shall Have My Friendship," Said She,  Giving Him Her Hand,  "If You

Find Any Support In That. You Can Count Upon Me,  Even If All Others Turn

Their Backs Upon You."

"Thank You," Said He,  With Solemnity,  As He Let Go Her Hand. He Left The

Garden Hastily,  But Without Going Through The House; He Took A Side

Path,  And Went Through The Little Wicket Gate.

Rachel Stood Gazing After Him As He Went Down The Avenue. At Last She

Had Met A Man Who Dared To State His Convictions. This Was More Than

Ever Jacob Worse Would Have The Courage To Do.

Jacob Worse'S Mother Was Regarded As Quite A Character In The Town. When

Her Husband Died,  He Was About As Insolvent As A Man Could Be. For

Several Years He Had Only Kept His Business Going By Means Of Unlimited

Credit,  But Up To The Very Last He Managed To Keep One Of The Gayest

Houses In The Town. Nothing Was Left But A Mass Of Bills And Liabilities

When He Was Gone. People Shook Their Heads,  And Went One And All To The

Widow To Condole With Her. There Were Both Friends And Enemies Among

Them,  But All Alike Were Creditors. Some Were For Selling Her Up At

Once,  And Others Wished To Keep The Business Going,  While One Wished To

Buy The Horses Privately. The "Boston-Parti"[A] To Which The Deceased

Belonged,  Agreed To Give The Widow A Monthly Allowance. For A Few Days

Mrs. Worse Was Quite Bewildered And Broken Down By The Ruin She Had So

Little Expected. She Had Never Had The Slightest Knowledge Of Her

Husband'S Affairs,  But She Was Quite Convinced That He Was Very Rich. On

The Evening After The Funeral She Was Sitting Alone With Her Son Jacob,

Who Was A Boy Of About Seven Or Eight,  When A Little Wizened,

Grey-Haired Man Came Into The Room,  Who,  After Respectfully Wishing Mrs.

Worse Good Evening,  Laid On The Table Some Account-Books And Papers. The

Old Man Was Well Known To Mrs. Worse: It Was Mr. Peter Samuelsen,

Commonly Known As Pitter Nilken,  The Manager Of The Small Shop In The

Back Premises. Worse'S Property Had Consisted Of An Entire Building,  Of

Which The Front Looked Out Towards The Sea And The Quay Where The

Steamers Were Moored,  And At The Back Was A Little Dark Lane,  Where

Pitter Nilken Had His Shop. Worse Never Liked Anybody To Allude To The

Shop; He Considered That He Was Far Too Respectable A Man Of Business

For Anything Of The Sort. He Used To Say That It Was Mostly For Old

Samuelsen'S Sake,  That He Kept The Little Shop Going; It Could Have No

Importance In a Concern Like His.

    [Footnote A: "Boston" Is A Game Of Cards,  And The

     "Boston-Parti" Is A Club,  The Members Of Which Meet And Play

     At Each Other'S Houses.]

Mrs. Worse Had Also Believed This Story; But That Afternoon She Learnt

To Think Otherwise. It Was Quite Clear To Her,  After Hearing Mr.

Samuelsen'S Figures And Calculations,  That The Shop Was Not At All To Be

Despised,  And She Came At Last To Perceive That This Was What Had Really

So Long Kept Everything Going.

The Two Sat Over Their Figures Far Into The Night. At First

Comprehension Seemed Quite Hopeless To Mrs. Worse. The Explanations She

Had Heard From Her Husband'S Friends And Creditors During The Last Few

Days Were So Complicated,  And Couched In Terms Beyond Her Understanding;

But With Peter Samuelsen It Was Quite Otherwise. He Never Went On Until

He Was Quite Sure That She Comprehended What He Said. At Length It All

Began To Dawn Upon Her,  And She Kept On Repeating,  "I Declare,  It Is All

As Clear As Daylight."

Next Morning She Ordered Her Carriage And Drove Off Alone. The Scandal

This Excited In The Town Was Beyond Description. To Think That She,  Who

Scarcely Owned The Very Clothes On Her Back,  Should Have The Audacity To

Drive In a Carriage And Pair Before The Very Noses Of Those Whom Her

Husband Had Swindled! The General Feeling Towards Her Had Hitherto Been

Favourable,  And Several People Could Not Help Feeling A Mischievous

Delight At The Idea Of Seeing The Haughty Mrs. Worse Live On A Monthly

Allowance. But Now All Were As Hard As Stone. Mrs. Worse Herself Did Not

Seem To Be So Nervous As She Was The Day Before,  And When She Entered

Consul Carman'S Office,  With Pitter Nilken'S Papers Under Her Arm,  Her

Step Was As Firm And Confident As A Man'S.

It Was Now Several Years Since Worse Had Left The Firm,  But Some

Ill-Feeling Had Long Remained On Both Sides,  And The Deceased And Mr.

Garman Had Never Got On