Short Stories of Various Types Part 33

Another day, when his bed had been brought over to the window (it was, I think, the Thursday on which the battle of Buzenval was fought), he distinctly saw the troops of the National Guard formed on the Avenue de la Grand Arme.

"What are those troops?" asked the old gentleman, and we heard him mutter, "Not well set up."

It went no farther, but we understood that thereafter we must take every precaution. Unfortunately we were not sufficiently careful. One evening as I reached the house, the little girl came to meet me, considerably troubled. "It is to-morrow that they enter the city," she said.

Was the door of her grandfather's bedroom open? In thinking it all over afterward, I remember that this evening his face wore a very striking expression. Probably he had overheard us; but while we were talking of the entry of the Prussians, the old gentleman was thinking of the triumphant return of the French troops, for which he had so long been waiting--Mac Mahon marching down the avenue in the midst of flowers, his son at the marshal's side, and he himself on his balcony wearing his full dress uniform as he did at Lutzen, saluting the riddled flags and the powder-blackened eagles.

Poor old Jouve! No doubt he thought that we did not want him to partic.i.p.ate in this review of our troops in the fear that his emotion would be too much for him, so he carefully avoided speaking of it. But the next day, at the very minute when the Prussian battalions started on their march from the Porte Maillot to the Tuileries,[274-1] the window up there opened gently and the Colonel appeared on the balcony wearing his helmet, his saber and all the old-fas.h.i.+oned but still glorious regalia of one of Milhaud's cuira.s.siers.

I still wonder what will power, what spurt of vitality it had taken to put him on his feet again in all the trappings of war. At all events, there he was, standing erect behind the rail, surprised to find the avenues so large, so silent, the window curtains down, and Paris as gloomy as a great pesthouse; flags everywhere, but such strange flags bearing a red cross on a white field, and no crowd to meet our soldiers.

For an instant he thought he might be mistaken; but no, below, behind the Arc de Triomphe, there came an indistinct rattle and then a black line advanced in the early light. Then, little by little, the eagles on the tops of helmets could be seen s.h.i.+ning in the sun, the little drums of Jena began to beat, and under the Arc de L'Etoile, accented by the heavy tread of marching men and by the clash of sidearms, Schubert's Triumphal March burst out.

Suddenly the silence of the Place de L'Etoile was broken by a terrible cry: "To arms! To arms! The Prussians!" And the four Uhlans[275-1] at the head of the column could see up there on the balcony a tall old man stagger and fall. This time Colonel Jouve was really dead.

SELMA LAGERLoF

The Silver Mine

King Gustav the Third[276-1] was making a hurried trip through Dalarna.

Though the horses seemed to be fairly skimming the ground, the King was dissatisfied. He leaned out of the window continually urging the driver to make haste, and his courtiers expected any minute that the royal coach or harness would break.

Finally the carriage tongue did indeed break. The courtiers leaped from the coach and after a hasty inspection said that it would be impossible to continue the journey without repairs. Anxious for the King's entertainment, they asked him if he would not like to attend the services in a little church which could be seen a short distance ahead.

The King agreed, and stepping into one of the other carriages, drove to the church. For hours he had been riding through large tracts of forest, so he was the more delighted to come out in view of green fields and small hamlets. The Dalelven sparkled forth, as it glided between ma.s.ses of graceful willows.

The King, however, was unable to attend the service, for just as he stepped from the carriage to the churchyard, the s.e.xton was ringing the bell for the closing. The wors.h.i.+ppers came filing out of the church. As they pa.s.sed the King, where he stood with one foot on the carriage step, he was impressed with their stalwart bearing and st.u.r.dy, wholesome appearance.

On the preceding day the King had remarked to his courtiers upon the poverty of the country they were pa.s.sing through. "Apparently now," he said, "I am driving through the poorest section of my domain." When he saw these people, however, he forgot about the poverty of the country.

His heart warmed within him and he said to himself, "The Swedish King is not in such poor circ.u.mstances as some of his enemies would believe.

As long as my subjects remain as fine and wholesome as these are, I shall be able to defend successfully my crown and my land."

Then he commanded a courtier to tell the people that the stranger among them was their King, and that he wished them to gather around in order that he might address them.

He spake to them, standing upon the top step that led into the sanctuary, and the step upon which he stood may be found there to this day.

The King first told his people how matters stood within the kingdom.

Sweden had been attacked by both Russia and Denmark. Under ordinary circ.u.mstances this would not be alarming, but at present the army was so filled with traitors[277-1] that he could hardly depend on it. He saw, therefore, no alternative but to go out himself to the small towns and ask his subjects whether they wished to side with the traitors or were willing to help the King with soldiers and money to save the Fatherland.

While he was making this earnest appeal, the st.u.r.dy peasants stood attentively before him, making no comment, nor giving any sign as to whether they agreed or not. Now the King had felt inwardly pleased at the forcefulness of his own appeal, so when the men stood silent, unable to give their answer, he frowned and showed his disappointment.

The farmers understood that the King was impatient for their reply, and at length one stepped forward. "Now you must know, King Gustav," he said, "that we were not expecting a visit from our King here to-day. We are therefore not prepared to answer you immediately. I would suggest that you go into the sanctuary and speak with our minister while we discuss among ourselves this matter which you have presented to us."

The King, perceiving that no better solution was possible, decided to take the farmer's advice.

When he entered the study, he found no one there except an old farmer.

He was tall and rough, with hands large and h.o.r.n.y from hard work. He wore neither robe nor collar, but only leather breeches and a long white homespun coat, like the other peasants. He arose and bowed as the King entered.

"I believed that I should meet the minister here," said the King.

The other reddened with embarra.s.sment, for he realized that it might be annoying to the King to be told that he had mistaken the minister for a farmer.

"Yes," he admitted, "the pastor is usually found here."

The King seated himself in a large armchair that stood in the study at that time, and which still stands there with a single change; the congregation has placed upon the back a gold crown.

"Have you a good minister here?" asked the King, wis.h.i.+ng to show interest in the people's welfare.

When the King questioned him thus, the pastor felt that it was impossible to admit who he was. He decided that it was better to let the King think he was only a farmer, so he answered: "The minister is fair; he preaches the clear word of G.o.d, and he tries to live as he preaches."

The King thought this a good recommendation. His sharp ear, however, had detected a certain hesitation in the tone of the man. He said, therefore, "It sounds, though, as if you are not entirely satisfied with your pastor."

"He may be a bit hardheaded," said the other, thinking inwardly, "If the King should later discover who I am, he will realize that I did not pour compliments over myself." He decided, therefore, to come out with a bit of criticism. "There be those who would say that the minister is inclined to want to be the ruler in this hamlet," he continued.

"Then he has surely directed and managed everything in the best possible way," said the King. He was not pleased to have the farmer finding fault with some one placed over him. "It appears to me that everything here is ruled by good habit and old-fas.h.i.+oned simplicity."

"The people are good," said the minister, "because they live in a remote place in isolation and poverty. The people here would probably be no better than others if the trials and temptations of the world came nearer to them."

"There is little chance that this will happen," said the King with a shrug of his shoulder.

He said nothing further but began drumming on the table with his fingers. He felt that he had exchanged enough words with this farmer, and wondered when the people would be ready with their answer.

"Those peasants are not very eager about coming to their King with aid," he thought. "If my coach were only ready, I would drive away from them and their deliberations."

The minister, deeply troubled, strove within himself as to how he should act on an important question that must be settled quickly. He felt glad that he had not told the King who he was, for now he could discuss matters that otherwise he would have been unable to bring forward.

After a time he broke the embarra.s.sing silence by asking the King if it really were true that enemies were besieging them and their kingdom was in danger.

The King, feeling that this person should have sense enough to leave him undisturbed, looked at him for a time without reply.

"I asked the question because, standing within the study here, I could not hear clearly what you said to the people. But in case it is true, I should like to state that the pastor of this parish might possibly be in a position to furnish the King as much money as he would need."

"I thought you said that every one here was poor," said the King, thinking that the farmer did not know what he was talking about.

"Yes, that is true," agreed the pastor, "and the minister has no more than any other. But if the King will honor me by listening, I will explain how it is that the minister has power to help."

"You may speak," said King Gustav. "You seem to find it easier to express yourself than your friends and neighbors outside, who never will be ready with their answer."

"It is not an easy matter to answer a King. I fear that, in the end, it will be necessary for their pastor to speak in their stead."

The King crossed his knees, folded his arms, and dropped his head. "You may begin," he said, with an air of preparing to fall asleep.

"Once upon a time the pastor and four men from his parish went elk hunting," began the minister. "Besides the pastor, there were two soldiers, Olaf and Erik Svard, the landlord of the village, and a farmer named Israels Pers Perssons."

"Should not mention so many names," grumbled the King, as he s.h.i.+fted his head a bit.