a story from the sand-hills-第6节

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found　dead；　with　his　throat　cut。　One　of　the　fishermen；　late　on　the

previous　evening；　had　met　Jurgen　going　towards　Martin's　house；　this

was　not　the　first　time　Jurgen　had　raised　his　knife　against　Martin；

so　they　felt　sure　that　he　was　the　murderer。　The　prison　was　in　a　town

at　a　great　distance；　and　the　wind　was　contrary　for　going　there　by　sea；

but　it　would　not　take　half　an　hour　to　get　across　the　bay；　and

another　quarter　of　an　hour　would　bring　them　to　Norre…Vosborg；　the

great　castle　with　ramparts　and　moat。　One　of　Jurgen's　captors　was　a

fisherman；　a　brother　of　the　keeper　of　the　castle；　and　he　said　it　might

be　managed　that　Jurgen　should　be　placed　for　the　present　in　the　dungeon

at　Vosborg；　where　Long　Martha　the　gipsy　had　been　shut　up　till　her

execution。　They　paid　no　attention　to　Jurgen's　defence；　the　few　drops

of　blood　on　his　shirt…sleeve　bore　heavy　witness　against　him。　But　he

was　conscious　of　his　innocence；　and　as　there　was　no　chance　of　clearing

himself　at　present　he　submitted　to　his　fate。

　　　　The　party　landed　just　at　the　place　where　Sir　Bugge's　castle　had

stood；　and　where　Jurgen　had　walked　with　his　foster…parents　after　the

burial　feast；　during。　the　four　happiest　days　of　his　childhood。　He

was　led　by　the　well…known　path；　over　the　meadow　to　Vosborg；　once

more　the　elders　were　in　bloom　and　the　lofty　lime…trees　gave　forth

sweet　fragrance；　and　it　seemed　as　if　it　were　but　yesterday　that　he　had

last　seen　the　spot。　In　each　of　the　two　wings　of　the　castle　there　was　a

staircase　which　led　to　a　place　below　the　entrance；　from　whence　there

is　access　to　a　low；　vaulted　cellar。　In　this　dungeon　Long　Martha　had

been　imprisoned；　and　from　here　she　was　led　away　to　the　scaffold。　She

had　eaten　the　hearts　of　five　children；　and　had　imagined　that　if　she

could　obtain　two　more　she　would　be　able　to　fly　and　make　herself

invisible。　In　the　middle　of　the　roof　of　the　cellar　there　was　a

little　narrow　air…hole；　but　no　window。　The　flowering　lime　trees

could　not　breathe　refreshing　fragrance　into　that　abode；　where

everything　was　dark　and　mouldy。　There　was　only　a　rough　bench　in　the

cell；　but　a　good　conscience　is　a　soft　pillow；　and　therefore　Jurgen

could　sleep　well。

　　　　The　thick　oaken　door　was　locked；　and　secured　on　the　outside　by

an　iron　bar；　but　the　goblin　of　superstition　can　creep　through　a

keyhole　into　a　baron's　castle　just　as　easily　as　it　can　into　a

fisherman's　cottage；　and　why　should　he　not　creep　in　here；　where　Jurgen

sat　thinking　of　Long　Martha　and　her　wicked　deeds？　Her　last　thoughts　on

the　night　before　her　execution　had　filled　this　place；　and　the　magic

that　tradition　asserted　to　have　been　practised　here；　in　Sir

Svanwedel's　time；　came　into　Jurgen's　mind；　and　made　him　shudder；　but　a

sunbeam；　a　refreshing　thought　from　without；　penetrated　his　heart

even　here…　it　was　the　remembrance　of　the　flowering　elder　and　the　sweet

smelling　lime…trees。

　　　　He　was　not　left　there　long。　They　took　him　away　to　the　town　of

Ringkjobing；　where　he　was　imprisoned　with　equal　severity。

　　　　Those　times　were　not　like　ours。　The　common　people　were　treated

harshly；　and　it　was　just　after　the　days　when　farms　were　converted　into

knights'　estates；　when　coachmen　and　servants　were　often　made

magistrates；　and　had　power　to　sentence　a　poor　man；　for　a　small

offence；　to　lose　his　property　and　to　corporeal　punishment。　Judges　of

this　kind　were　still　to　be　found；　and　in　Jutland；　so　far　from　the

capital；　and　from　the　enlightened；　well…meaning；　head　of　the

Government；　the　law　was　still　very　loosely　administered　sometimes…　the

smallest　grievance　Jurgen　could　expect　was　that　his　case　should　be

delayed。

　　　　His　dwelling　was　cold　and　comfortless；　and　how　long　would　he　be

obliged　to　bear　all　this？　It　seemed　his　fate　to　suffer　misfortune

and　sorrow　innocently。　He　now　had　plenty　of　time　to　reflect　on　the

difference　of　fortune　on　earth；　and　to　wonder　why　this　fate　had　been

allotted　to　him；　yet　he　felt　sure　that　all　would　be　made　clear　in

the　next　life；　the　existence　that　awaits　us　when　this　life　is　over。

His　faith　had　grown　strong　in　the　poor　fisherman's　cottage；　the

light　which　had　never　shone　into　his　father's　mind；　in　all　the

richness　and　sunshine　of　Spain；　was　sent　to　him　to　be　his　comfort　in

poverty　and　distress；　a　sign　of　that　mercy　of　God　which　never　fails。

　　　　The　spring　storms　began　to　blow。　The　rolling　and　moaning　of　the

North　Sea　could　be　heard　for　miles　inland　when　the　wind　was　blowing；

and　then　it　sounded　like　the　rushing　of　a　thousand　waggons　over　a　hard

road　with　a　mine　underneath。　Jurgen　heard　these　sounds　in　his

prison；　and　it　was　a　relief　to　him。　No　music　could　have　touched　his

heart　as　did　these　sounds　of　the　sea…　the　rolling　sea；　the　boundless

sea；　on　which　a　man　can　be　borne　across　the　world　before　the　wind；

carrying　his　own　house　with　him　wherever　he　goes；　just　as　the　snail

carries　its　home　even　into　a　strange　country。

　　　　He　listened　eagerly　to　its　deep　murmur　and　then　the　thought　arose…

〃Free！　free！　How　happy　to　be　free；　even　barefooted　and　in　ragged

clothes！〃　Sometimes；　when　such　thoughts　crossed　his　mind；　the　fiery

nature　rose　within　him；　and　he　beat　the　wall　with　his　clenched　fists。

　　　　Weeks；　months；　a　whole　year　had　gone　by；　when　Niels　the　thief；

called　also　a　horse…dealer；　was　arrested；　and　now　better　times　came；

and　it　was　seen　that　Jurgen　had　been　wrongly　accused。

　　　　On　the　afternoon　before　Jurgen's　departure　from　home；　and　before

the　murder；　Niels　the　thief；　had　met　Martin　at　a　beer…house　in　the

neighbourhood　of　Ringkjobing。　A　few　glasses　were　drank；　not　enough

to　cloud　the　brain；　but　enough　to　loosen　Martin's　tongue。　He　began

to　boast　and　to　say　that　he　had　obtained　a　house　and　intended　to

marry；　and　when　Niels　asked　him　where　he　was　going　to　get　the　money；

he　slapped　his　pocket　proudly　and　said：

　　　　〃The　money　is　here；　where　it　ought　to　be。〃

　　　　This　boast　cost　him　his　life；　for　when　he　went　home　Niels　followed

him；　and　cut　his　throat；　intending　to　rob　the　murdered　man　of　the

gold；　which　did　not　exist。

　　　　All　this　was　circumstantially　explained；　but　it　is　enough　for　us

to　know　that　Jurgen　was　set　free。　But　what　compensation　did　he　get　for

having　been　imprisoned　a　whole　year；　and　shut　out　from　all

communication　with　his　fellow　creatures？　They　told　him　he　was

fortunate　in　being　proved　innocent；　and　that　he　might　go。　The

burgomaster　gave　him　two　dollars　for　travelling　expenses；　and　many

citizens　offered　him　provisions　and　beer…　there　were　still　good

people；　they　were　not　all　hard　and　pitiless。　But　the　best　thing　of　all

was　that　the　merchant　Bronne；　of　Skjagen；　into　whose　service　Jurgen

had　proposed　entering　the　year　before；　was　just　at　that　time　on

business　in　the　town　of　Ringkjobing。　Bronne　heard　the　whole　story；

he　was　kind…hearted；　and　understood　what　Jurgen　must　have　felt　and

suffered。　Therefore　he　made　up　his　mind　to　make　it　up　to　the　poor　lad；

and　convince　him　that　there　were　still　kind　folks　in　the　world。

　　　　So　Jurgen　went　forth　from　prison　as　if　to　paradise；　to　find

freedom；　affection；　and　trust。　He　was　to　travel　this　path　now；　for

no　goblet　of　life　is　all　bitterness；　no　good　man　would　pour　out　such　a

draught　for　his　fellow…man；　and　how　should　He　do　it；　Who　is　love

personified？

　　　　〃Let　everything　be　buried　and　forgotten；〃　said　Bronne；　the

merchant。　〃Let　us　draw　a　thick　line　through　last　year：　we　will　even

burn　the　almanack。　In　two　days　we　will　start　for　dear；　friendly；

peaceful　Skjagen。　People　call　it　an　out…of…the…way　corner；　but　it　is　a

good　warm　chimney…corner；　and　its　windows　open　toward　every　part　of

the　world。〃

　　　　What　a　journey　that　was：　It　was　like　taking　fresh　breath　out　of

the　cold　dungeon　air　into　the　warm　sunshine。　The　heather　bloomed　in

pride　and　beauty；　and　the　shepherd…boy　sat　on　a　barrow　and　blew　his

pipe；　which　he　had　carved　for　himself　out　of　a　sheep　bone。　Fata

Morgana；　the　beautiful　aerial　phenomenon　of　the　wilderness；　appeared

with　hanging　gardens　and　waving　forests；　and　the　wonderful　cloud

called　〃Lokeman　driving　his　sheep〃　also　was　seen。

　　　　Up　towards　Skjagen　they　went；　through　the　land　of　the　Wendels；

whence　the　men　with　long　beards　（the　Longobardi　or　Lombards）　had

emigrated　in　the　reign　of　King　Snio；　when　all　the　children　and　old

people　were　to　have　been　killed；　till　the　noble　Dame　Gambaruk　proposed

that　the　young　people　should　emigrate。　Jurgen　knew　all　this；　he　had

some　little　knowledge；　and　although　he　did　not　know　the　land　of　the

Lombards　beyond　the　lofty　Alps；　he　had　an　idea　that　it　must　be

there；　for　in　his　boyhood　he　had　been　in　the　south；　in　Spain。　He

thought　of　the　plenteousness　of　the　southern　fruit；　of　the　red

pomegranate　flowers；　of　the　humming；　buzzing；　and　toiling　in　the　great

beehive　of　a　city　he　had　seen；　but　home　is　the　best　place　after　all；

and　Jurgen's　home　was　Denmark。

　　　　At　last　they　arrived　at　〃Vendilskaga；〃　as　Skjagen　is　called　in　old

Norwegian　and　Icelandic　writings。　At　that　time　Old　Skjagen；　with　the

eastern　and　western　town；　extended　for　miles；　with　sand　hills　and

arable　land　as　far　as　the　lighthouse　near　〃Grenen。〃　Then；　as　now；

the　houses　were　strewn　among　the　wind…r