l^MJRAGLeSKj 
 OF CLARA *' 
 VAN HAA<3*"
 
 The Miracles of 
 Clara Van Haag
 
 The Miracles of 
 cClara Van Haag^ 
 
 Translated from the Danish of 
 
 Johannes Buchholtz 
 
 By W. W. Worster 
 
 "rl 
 
 New York 
 
 Alfred • A • Knopf 
 
 1922
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA 
 VAN HAAG 
 
 HEDVIG appeared on the stone steps of the 
 Toldbod, her yellow hair fluttering in the 
 spring breeze. She drew it aside from her 
 forehead, shaded her eyes with one hand, and looked 
 up along Brogade. The carriage must soon be there. 
 Then, running down the three steps, she came to a 
 standstill in the middle of the road. She stood easily 
 upright on her feet, while the wind from the harbour 
 blew her skirts in about her legs and spread her white 
 apron out Uke a glittering lateen sail. 
 
 The office window opened cautiously a little way, 
 and Old Poulsen's gentle, grey, billy-goat face peeped 
 out. Hedvig laughed up at him : 
 
 " No, not yet ! " 
 
 She went up into the office. 
 
 " Lovely and warm in here," she said, stroking her 
 bare arms from the elbow in turn. The fire was flutter- 
 ing softly in the stove, the sun shone in through the 
 two windows, painting splendidly brilliant squares on 
 the shiny linoleum. Outside, along the quay, were 
 ships with white deck-houses and tall masts.
 
 2 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 Poulsen walked up and down restlessly in his down- 
 trodden shoes. He was wearing the same old green 
 uniform coat as ever, faded to yellow on the right-hand 
 side, but Hedvig noticed he had put on a pair of cuffs — 
 strangely shaped cuffs that he was constantly screwing 
 up into his sleeves. Suddenly he stopped, and stood 
 listening with open mouth. He drew himself up two 
 or three times, but his chronic stoop was not to be 
 straightened out in a moment ; at last he twirled round 
 helplessly where he stood. 
 
 " Wasn't that a carriage coming ? " he said. 
 
 Hedvig sprang to the door, ran down into the street | 
 and back again. 
 
 " Never a sign of one ! " 
 
 " It sounded like ... it really sounded like a   
 carriage," murmured Poulsen apologetically, and fell 
 to pacing up and down once more. 
 
 Hedvig stepped up right in front of him, barring 
 his way. 
 
 " Poulsen ! What's the matter with you to-day ? 
 Anyone'd think it was your mistress coming, instead of 
 mine." 
 
 Poulsen, abashed, glanced aside uneasily, and 
 stammered : 
 
 " I — I don't mind telHng you, Hedvig, I'd rather 
 thought of — thought of just stepping out to say 
 'Goddag' — or perhaps — er — ' Welcome to Knarreby,' you 
 know, or — or . . ." 
 
 " Well, and what then ? It's nothing to be fright- 
 ened about." 
 
 " Ah, but you see, my dear, I'm not sure — I can't 
 be quite sure if it's the right thing to do, you know. 
 The office, that's one thing, but the house . . . You 
 see what I mean ? My place is down here, and nothing
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 3 
 
 to do with upstairs. And I wouldn't dream of putting 
 myself forward in any way. But, seeing I've been here 
 now these two-and-twenty years, I can't help feeling 
 I've a sort of right to just step out and say ' Goddag,' 
 and ' Welcome to Knarreby Toldbod.' " ^ 
 
 " And so you have, I'm sure." 
 
 " I have, you know, really," repeated Poulsen more 
 cheerfully. " But — what's the best way . . . ? Do 
 you think, now, if I put on my cap, and went out on 
 the steps, just to make it more official Uke, or . . . well, 
 I'm getting on, you know, but this is the first — the very 
 first time in all my hfe there's come a new mistress to 
 the Toldbod here. Wassermann and his wife, they 
 weren't young when I first came. But this one, she 
 comes out here from Heaven knows where in the wide 
 world. Only the other day, Hr. van Haag was saying 
 something about ' when we were in Paris . . .' In 
 Paris ! Why, it takes your breath away to think of it. 
 What do you say ? " 
 
 Hedvig looked thoughtful. " It's awkward for us, 
 anyhow. We don't know if she's young or old, if she's 
 an angel or a very devil. She's more Ukely to be that, 
 I should say. But . . ." — and Hedvig flung back her 
 shoulders as if casting off a cloak of superfluous con- 
 siderations — " anyhow, I'm not going to go on my knees 
 to her, if she's a dozen times the mistress. If she comes 
 telhng me ' I'm from Paris,' I shall simply say : ' Oh, 
 are you ? And I'm from Knarreby!' And that'll be 
 q-u-i-t quits ! " 
 
 " Ah, it's all very well for you," said aged Poulsen, 
 
 shaking his head and sitting down heavily in his chair 
 
 by the window. He took up his pen, as if to intimate 
 
 that the discussion was at an end, but a moment later 
 
 1 Toldbod : the Custom House. " Toll-booth."
 
 4 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 they were talking again of the same remarkable topic, 
 to wit, that Toldforvalter van Haag, who had been 
 living as a bachelor now for nearly a year, had got that 
 telegram yesterday, and Hedvig had been down to 
 Soren Vognmand to order a closed carriage to meet 
 the three o'clock train. Fruen . . } Poulsen's back 
 curved every time he spoke the word. 
 
 " Yes," said Hedvig. " But I can't stand her being 
 so sharp with her maids, for instance. You'd never 
 think a woman with any education would use such 
 language at all." 
 
 " What — what do you mean ? How do you 
 know . . . ? " 
 
 Hedvig looked stiffly in front of her, and said 
 mysteriously : 
 
 " That's what she's like, I know. I don't mean, of 
 course, I know exactly the very words. But when Hr. 
 van Haag daren't even put his own furniture as he 
 likes . . . He always says ' Leave it where it is till 
 mistress comes, she'll be sure to move it anyhow ! ' So 
 she must be a troublesome one, and then, of course, 
 she'll be nasty to me as well. See ? " 
 
 Poulsen made no attempt to follow Hedvig's logic, 
 but went to the window and opened it in his timidly 
 careful way. And as the fresh air poured in, both heard 
 at once distinctly the rumble of wheels from Algade. 
 
 The window was closed with most incautious haste. 
 Hedvig's cheeks flushed ; Poulsen ran to the row of 
 pegs and took down his gold-laced cap, put it on, took 
 it off again, and ended by setting it hopelessly awry 
 
 ^ Fruen : "the mistress." The word is also generally used in 
 speaking of a married lady without mentioning her name. Fru 
 Clara Van Haag is frequently referred to as "Fruen" throughout the 
 book.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 5 
 
 on his grey head. When the carriage rolled up, he 
 and Hedvig were standing like two highly dissimilar 
 statues, one on either side of the top step. 
 
 S0ren Vognmand gave a mighty crack of his whip, 
 and pulled up the horses. The hood was down. Beside 
 Hr. van Haag in the carriage sat a straight, slender 
 woman in white. 
 
 " Drive on a little, if you please." 
 
 The lady's voice gave each word its proper share of 
 emphasis. Soren Vognmand turned his head, to make 
 sure the door of the carriage was where he had reckoned 
 it should be — midway in front of the steps, exactly. 
 Then he swung his nose round to the front once more. 
 
 " Drive on a little, please ! As far as the ship 
 there." 
 
 S0ren gave an appealing glance at Hr. van Haag — 
 he at any rate was none of your womenfolk — but, finding 
 no help in that quarter, he lashed out at the near side 
 horse in a way that made the carriage almost leap the 
 twenty odd yards across to the quay. Never in his 
 born days had he heard of such a thing. 
 
 " Right. Now round, if you please. Thanks. No, 
 stay where you are a minute ! " 
 
 Then happened something altogether notable and 
 hitherto unheard of — something that was whispered of 
 years afterwards in tones of mystery throughout the 
 town : Fruen drew forth from a white silk bag a pair of 
 opera-glasses, a perfect little jewel of a thing, all ghtter- 
 ing and splendid, and held it to her eyes. 
 
 The stevedores hauling planks ashore from the craft 
 nearest at hand stopped their work in amazement. 
 Madam Hermansen, waddling resignedly along with her 
 greengrocer's barrow behind her, stopped dead, and 
 wrinkled her beetroot countenance to a sort of smile.
 
 6 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 Hehe ! Here was something happening in Knarreby 
 for once ! 
 
 The glasses were plainly directed towards the Toldbod 
 itself. Fru van Haag sat scrutinising the heavy, yellow- 
 ochre building as if it were some significant point on her 
 course, and she a distant ship. Suddenly she ordered 
 the carriage on again, in front of Vang's hotel, and 
 put up her glasses again, gazing as if with increasing 
 suspicion at her future home. 
 
 The two poor creatures waiting on the steps felt 
 her magnif3dng glance upon themselves. Hedvig's 
 blue eyes set sharply, and the blood came and went in 
 her cheeks. Old Poulsen screwed at his refractory 
 cuffs, glancing uneasily all ways at his dress, in dread 
 lest Fruen should be even then discovering something 
 amiss. 
 
 At last she seemed to have come to a decision. 
 Lowering her glasses, she signed with her gloved hand 
 to the humiliated Soren to drive up to the house. Hed- 
 vig opened the carriage door, Toldforvalter van Haag 
 stepped out, followed by his wife, a slender figure fully 
 as tall as his own. 
 
 Poulsen plucked off his cap and, holding it at his 
 side, commenced in his decrepit voice : 
 
 " As the oldest official in the service of His Majesty's 
 Customs at Knarreby, I trust I may claim the right . . ." 
 
 The rest of Poulsen's speech was lost to the world 
 for ever. His toothless words lacked power to grip the 
 ear, and after a second or so he was bankrupt of sound. 
 
 There was something wanting in Fru van Haag's 
 manner to make her appear a thorough lady — according 
 to Knarreby standards. She lacked the stiffness and 
 reserve that is considered fitting on first arrival at a 
 place. See there, for instance, how easily and at home
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 7 
 
 she stood on the steps, and took possession of Hedvig 
 with the most casual air. " Goddag, Hedvig. Just 
 carry these things up, would you ? Thanks." 
 
 Well, well, perhaps her husband had told her as they 
 drove up : that's Hedvig, your maid, on the steps there. 
 Yes, of course, he must have. Still, she might have 
 pretended not to know. And the same with Poulsen ; 
 she ought to have waited for him to be presented. 
 Instead of which, this is what she did : Walked straight 
 up to him, threw him into utter confusion at the start 
 by offering him her left hand, which he fumbled at 
 desperately with his right, and said out loud, as if 
 continuing a conversation : 
 
 " Not half bad-looking really, if only they hadn't 
 painted it the colour of I won't say what ! " 
 
 She was presumably referring to the building, but 
 Poulsen's faded old eyes flickered hither and thither, 
 as if he fancied she must be speaking of his coat. 
 
 Madam Hermansen set up a laugh that echoed 
 between the house and Vang's hotel. 
 
 Fruen walked with a firm, light step up to the living- 
 rooms above. Her husband gave a twitch at his new 
 trousers, creased to a knife-edge down the leg, and 
 creaked up after her. Last of all came Hedvig, taking 
 in everything with all her senses. That silk bag with 
 the glasses, and even the parasol, had a delicate, strange 
 perfume about them. 
 
 Just inside the drawing-room door her mistress 
 stopped, and Hedvig noted that she showed no delight 
 of recognition over the furniture. 
 
 " Er — I left things so that you could fix them up as 
 you liked," said Hr. van Haag. 
 
 " Oh yes, thanks," said his wife absently, and sat 
 down in the nearest chair. Her voice and bearing
 
 8 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 seemed suddenly to have lost all life and elasticity. 
 Her head drooped forward, her mouth a trifle open, her 
 eyes looking nowhere. 
 
 " Lunch is ready," said Hedvig, as she went out. 
 But, coming in again a little later, she found her mistress 
 sitting as before. Then she rose, submitted listlessly 
 as Hedvig drew off her white coat, and went in to table. 
 
 Her husband bade her welcome as they sat down. 
 Hedvig noticed that his voice was no more expressive 
 than if he had been asking for his boots. 
 
 They spoke little during the first part of the meal, 
 but the wine sank rapidly in the bottle. Hr. van Haag's 
 cheeks flushed in red spots, but his wife sat pale as 
 ever. Properly speaking, she was not pale at all ; 
 there was a curious golden hue in her complexion. 
 Hedvig caught a word or two as she poured out the 
 coffee : 
 
 " The same old things ? Of course," said Hr. van 
 Haag. " Did you expect me to buy a whole houseful 
 of furniture here and leave all the old things at 
 Helsingor ? " 
 
 " The air of the place is just the same. I can't 
 stand it. Wretchedly bad taste on my part, no doubt. 
 But I do wish you'd left the air behind." 
 
 Her husband poured out a glass of wine and drank 
 it off before answering. 
 
 " It seems to me — when you wrap yourself up in your 
 own perfume — you still use the same, I notice — the air 
 of the rooms can't hurt you very much." 
 
 " I dare say it's funny, but I can't help it. It is so, 
 and it always will be ! " 
 
 Hedvig was out in her kitchen once more. She stood 
 for a long time idly, thinking of the curious way her 
 mistress had spoken about the air of the place. Now
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 9 
 
 what could it mean ? Hedvig drummed with her 
 fingers on her front teeth, as was her way when puzzling 
 over things. Suddenly the dining-room bell rang. 
 And it went on and on while she was wiping her hands 
 and hurrying through the little passage. But, heavens ! — 
 what was this ? A half-smothered cry, and the bell 
 stopped. Hedvig flung open the door in time to see 
 Hr. van Haag draw himself up hastily and step aside 
 from where his wife sat. She saw her mistress's white 
 arm, bare to the elbow, waving this way and that with 
 the torn bell-rope in her clenched hand. And what 
 more ? She saw her mistress wipe her mouth, spit out 
 something into her serviette, and wipe her lips again 
 as if she had tasted something poisonous. 
 
 But Hr. van Haag turned on his heel and said in his 
 dullest, everyday voice : 
 
 " You can clear away — that's all." 
 
 " Yes . . ." said Hedvig in confusion. She did not 
 venture to look at either of the pair, but began at hazard 
 moving the things nearest to hand. 
 
 Fruen rose, threw down her serviette slap on the 
 floor, and went into the adjoining room, breathing as if 
 she had been running full tilt upstairs. 
 
 Hr. van Haag took another glass of wine, and 
 said : 
 
 " My wife wishes her trunks brought up." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 But here Fru van Haag herself appeared in the door- 
 way, and said, with an air of authority that made all 
 other orders simply null : 
 
 " My trunks will stay where they are I And, 
 Hedvig, you can go and order a carriage at once, 
 if you please." 
 
 " There's no train now," said her husband. But this
 
 10 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 time his voice was not by any means as if asking for his 
 boots. He tried to squeeze out a httle whinnying 
 laugh. 
 
 " At once ! " said Fru van Haag. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 At this her husband could contain himself no longer ; 
 he whinnied again, and said : 
 
 " Allow me. / shall be most happy to order a 
 carriage myself. Most happy, I assure you." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 The door slammed behind him. 
 
 There was a pause. Then Fruen turned to Hedvig 
 with a little laugh. " Well, my dear," she said, " there'll 
 be no Frue in the house here, after all. We've not had 
 much time to get to like each other, have we ? And 
 you, poor thing, you've been having all sorts of extra 
 work, of course, getting in things and doing the place 
 up. Here . . ." — she opened her smooth little purse 
 and took out a ttn-Kroner note — " that's for you, and 
 thank you for your trouble." 
 
 "Oh . . . thank you," said Hedvig, flushing. The 
 note was perfectly new — it looked, indeed, almost too 
 new to be genuine. But of course such a fine lady could 
 never think of touching anything old and dirty. 
 
 " And then, dear, I don't want you to say anything 
 about this — this pleasant little banquet of ours — to 
 anyone. You understand ? " 
 
 Hedvig was just dropping the note into the breast of 
 her dress ; now she fished it up again in two fingers, 
 and held it out with a shy smile. 
 
 " Please, I don't want to be paid for keeping a 
 secret. And besides, you know, I didn't see anything, 
 really." 
 
 " Oh, my dear child — how dreadfully tactless of me !
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 11 
 
 You make me . . . Look here, I'm going away, and 
 it won't matter in the least to me what people here say. 
 But Hr. van Haag, he'll be here all the time. And, you 
 know, I've an idea they'll say it was his fault I went 
 away again, if they hear about it. And that's quite 
 wrong — at least, it's not quite right. It was my fault. 
 My nerves are simply awful. I'm in such a state that 
 the least thing upsets me. It was my fault. But now 
 you must forget all about that stupid money. I'll find 
 some little thing for you in my trunk instead. And 
 you'll keep it, won't you, in memory of a foolish woman 
 that was your mistress for an hour ? Will you, Hedvig ? 
 Are my things in the passage ? " 
 
 " I — I brought them up before." 
 
 " Up where ? " 
 
 " In Fruen's room." 
 
 " Oh, so I've a room of my own, have I ? Good ! 
 We'll go in there." 
 
 Hedvig opened the door, and explained that the 
 place wasn't in order a bit, but Hr. van Haag had 
 said . . . 
 
 It was a bright little sunlit room, with blue walls, 
 one window looking out on to the church, the other 
 over the harbour, and between the two a big black 
 grand piano set at an angle. On the smooth surface 
 of the piano stood a crystal bowl with a single tall branch 
 of fresh green beech. 
 
 " Oh, my dear piano ! " cried Fruen, running forward 
 as if to an embrace. " It's ages now . . . and I've 
 missed it so ! " 
 
 And, sitting down on the little round stool, she leaned 
 forward over the instrument with her hands before her 
 face. 
 
 " I've been away so long, Hedvig, I'd almost for-
 
 12 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 gotten it all. And now, here's my best friend here to 
 receive me — and then to run away again and leave it 
 all alone ..." 
 
 " But — couldn't you take it with you ? " 
 
 " Haha ! No ; the piano, that's his. Oh, take that 
 branch thing away, will you ? What an idea, to put it in 
 here at all ! " 
 
 Hedvig flushed. " I — it was me," she said. " I 
 kept it in water in the window, till the buds opened. I — 
 I thought it looked so nice. And seeing the rest of the 
 place didn't look nice as it was ..." 
 
 " You, Hedvig ? You did that to please me, a 
 stranger ? Why ... I thank you, dear. What a 
 dainty httle hand it is. Long fingers — there's race in 
 that hand. And you could play, too. Are you a 
 httle countess in disguise ? Who is your father, 
 child ? " 
 
 " His name's Egholm. The photographer." 
 
 " Photographer ? Is he, though ? " said Fruen, still 
 playing with Hedvig's fingers. " And his name's 
 Egholm ? Curious old-fashioned name." 
 
 Suddenly she dropped the girl's hand, and looked 
 thoughtfully out through the window. 
 
 " Hedvig Egholm, did you say ? Tell me ; your 
 father, is he very old ? " 
 
 "No . . . not so very old. I don't quite 
 know . . ." 
 
 " Oh, but of course, he need not be so very old. 
 Photographer ! . . . Tell me, you don't happen to know 
 if he was ever in Helsingor ? " 
 
 " Yes, he was in a place there once. Some Consul 
 or other. He often talks about it. ..." 
 
 Fru van Haag rose to her feet with some emotion. 
 Threads of her fife that had lain hitherto in an unheeded
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 13 
 
 tangle unravelled now of themselves and met and wove 
 again into a new strange pattern. More than twenty 
 years back this Egholm had been her boy-lover. She 
 had never so much as thought of him since then. And 
 now, after travelling all over the world, she had come, 
 one fine April day, to Knarreby, a place that seemed to 
 lie outside every imaginable world, to find her child- 
 lover actually alive, in the person of a photographer, 
 with a family of his own. There could be no doubt 
 about it ; here was Hedvig, with Kasper Egholm's long- 
 fingered hands. Strange. . . . And those hands had 
 set flowers to greet her. . . . 
 
 Less for information than as voicing her thoughts 
 from a trance, she went on : 
 
 " You haven't your father's eyes. Nor his hair. 
 Your father's hair is almost black — and brushed back 
 from the forehead ; isn't that right ? " 
 
 Hedvig laughed. 
 
 " Father hasn't much hair at all now." 
 
 Fruen laughed too. Then she fell to examining 
 Hedvig from every side, with the same careful scrutiny 
 as she had the house when she drove up. Hedvig 
 flushed under her glance, but was not displeased. Fruen 
 had such strange big eyes, and the look on her face 
 changed incessantly. Hedvig could not help thinking 
 it was as if she were watching a procession go by ; now 
 nodding to some one she knew, then laughing at some 
 ridiculous figure, then frowning slightly, as at sight of 
 some one she did not like. 
 
 Some time passed in silence, then Fru Van Haag said 
 in her fine rich voice : 
 
 " I am Consul Steen's daughter. Perhaps you 
 know. Your father and I were playmates in the old 
 days. I simply couldn't go away again now without
 
 14 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 seeing him. And, after all, I might just as well stay in 
 Knarreby now I'm here. It won't be so bad as long 
 as I have you." 
 
 She opened a trunk, and began lifting and moving 
 delicate things : dresses and linen soft as the petals of 
 flowers. At last she found a fiat mahogany box, and 
 took from it a brooch set with a trefoil of amethysts. 
 She handed it to Hedvig with a smile. 
 
 " There, put that in your dress, at the neck." 
 
 " Thank you," said Hedvig, holding out her hand. 
 
 Fruen took it and looked at the fingers again, 
 
 " And then," she said, " we must have these ten 
 little fingers trained to what they were meant for. Oh, 
 we shall be three good friends at Knarreby Toldbod — 
 you and I and the piano. And surely that ought to be 
 enough." 
 
 Just then came the sound of wheels outside, stopping 
 in front of the house. Hr. van Haag had driven up with 
 it. He had meant what he said, then. Hedvig felt a 
 sudden pang at her heart ; was the Toldbod to be empty 
 as before — a barren warehouse of a place, with a couple 
 of human beings accidentally dropped in ? No ; Fru 
 van Haag opened the window, and gave her order that 
 none failed to obey : 
 
 " The carriage can go back again. I am going to 
 stay." 
 
 Toldforvalter van Haag repeated the order after 
 his own fashion, as if he were asking for his shaving- 
 water. But it was needless. Soren Vognmand had 
 already turned the horses ; an extra touch of the 
 whip, and their hoofs struck sparks from the cobbled 
 roadway. 
 
 And then it was that Fru van Haag said something 
 that filled Hedvig with amazement, more so, perhaps.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 15 
 
 than all else that she had heard and seen on this extra- 
 ordinary day : 
 
 " Go down and ask the old man to come up." 
 
 " Old man . . . ? " 
 
 " Yes, that old man in the faded coat. Tell him 
 I want to hear that speech he was going to make for 
 me." 
 
 What it was that moved her Hedvig herself did not 
 know, but she felt the tears welling into her eyes as she 
 ran down the stairs. She burst into the office without 
 knocking, threw both arms round the little withered 
 man at his desk by the window, and said all out of 
 breath : 
 
 " Poulsen ! She's the dearest dear on earth, and a 
 queen besides. She's given me this jewel brooch — and 
 now you've got to go up and make your speech. And, 
 Poulsen, she's going to stay ! She's not going, after all. 
 Oh, be quick, Poulsen ! Aren't you ever so pleased 
 now ? "
 
 11 
 
 NEXT evening Hedvig went home. Fruen had 
 been out in the kitchen with her all the after- 
 noon, and told her many things about her 
 childhood and girlhood. Now she sent her off home 
 with a cheery message to her father, and a promise 
 to call on him soon. 
 
 After all, thought Hedvig, as she turned in to 
 Stationsvej on the way home, it might have come at a 
 worse time. Suppose it had happened in the days when 
 they lived in the back-yard premises of the undertaker's 
 shop, and the camera stood on a cement barrel with a 
 green cloth over. Hedvig shuddered at the thought of 
 that comfortless time. No, the little white house her 
 father had built now was a very different thing. She 
 was just coming in sight of it now. And it really did 
 look both cheerful and elegant, with the creeper and 
 honeysuckle growing half-way up the roof. 
 
 Hedvig knew well enough that things within doors 
 were hardly as cheerful or as elegant — ugh ! But now 
 she would help her mother as well as she could, and it 
 would not look so bad. There were brass handles to 
 the doors ; they should be polished like purest gold for 
 Fruen's hand to touch. 
 
 There was light already burning behind the small 
 panes — that must be father at work. What sort of 
 temper was he in to-day, she wondered ? 
 
 She stepped over the bridge across the ditch and 
 
 x6
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 17 
 
 opened the door. A harsh and vulgar door-bell clattered 
 as she did so. " It's me," said Hedvig, and passed 
 through the " waiting-room " — it really seemed to her 
 quite splendidly furnished, though the upholstery was 
 not a httle damaged — into the next room, which was 
 parlour and workroom in one. 
 
 A single glance showed her that something unusual 
 was going on. 
 
 Her father stood at his table, trimming the edges of 
 some prints. He stood in the light of the small lamp, 
 darkening the rest of the room, but there on the settee 
 was Sivert, her eldest brother, apprenticed to a glazier 
 in the town. Close beside him was little Emanuel, 
 and both were rocking to and fro in a noiseless ecstasy 
 of laughter behind their father's back. There was 
 nothing remarkable in Sivert 's laughing ; it would 
 rather have seemed strange if he had not. But how on 
 earth had it come about that he should be sitting in 
 here at his ease on the settee, with his father humming 
 carelessly all the time as if it were nothing ? And 
 now, lo, father turned and nodded his big shiny pate : 
 Godaften ! He, too, was evidently pleased about some- 
 thing. A mystery, indeed ! 
 
 " Is mother outside ? " said Hedvig, going through 
 to the kitchen. 
 
 Her mother was there. At sight of Hedvig she 
 set down the things she was holding, and hurried to 
 embrace her. 
 
 " And so you've got an evening off already ? I 
 didn't look to see you the first week. Well, and what's 
 she hke ? I saw her spanking past in Soren Vognmand's 
 best turn-out, and Hr. van Haag himself beside her, 
 and a white hat and feathers and what-not, Is she a 
 decent sort, now ? "
 
 18 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " Yes, ever so." 
 
 " Well, that's a blessing. And I'm not the one to 
 judge her hardly for the nasty things she said to poor 
 old Poulsen when he came out with cuffs on and all to 
 meet her on the steps. Like as not it was just thought- 
 lessness." 
 
 Hedvig frowned, and thought for a moment. 
 
 " That's Madam Hermansen been teUing tales 
 again," she said darkly. 
 
 Her mother bent over the coffee-pot and said softly : 
 
 " Herregud, we womenfolk are that way. What's 
 put into us, it's bound to come out again. I thought 
 myself it was lies about her saying that of the Toldbod 
 being painted I don't know what — and the King's own 
 monogram over the door and all." 
 
 Hedvig no longer felt inchned to take up the matter 
 further. How could she explain that it was true, but 
 that Fruen was as fine a lady as could be, all the 
 same ! 
 
 She changed the subject with a question : 
 
 " How's Si vert come to be sitting in there laughing 
 all over his face ? " 
 
 " 'Twas your father himself called him in, and if he's 
 laughing, poor lad, why, I doubt it's because he can 
 smell the coffee." 
 
 " Is he going to have coffee in there ? " 
 
 " Yes, your father said himself ..." 
 
 " Well, what's the world coming to now I What's 
 it all for? " 
 
 " What's it for ? " Fru Egholm tried her best to 
 appear as if she found it only natural, but Hedvig saw 
 through her attempt with ease. " Well, he's offered to 
 dig a well, and your father was ever so pleased, and said 
 he might."
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 19 
 
 "Oh . . . that old business about the well ! Don't 
 tell me father lets him sit in the parlour for that, now." 
 
 " Well . . . perhaps there was something else, too 
 — about some sweethearting or something. . . ." Fru 
 Egholm turned her back completely now. " But that's 
 no business of mine. You'd better talk to your father 
 and Si vert about that." 
 
 Fru Egholm took up the cups and saucers, arranged 
 them with the ease of habit between her forearm and her 
 breast, took the coffee-pot by the handle, and stepped 
 briskly into the parlour. 
 
 Hedvig followed, laid her hat and jacket aside, and 
 sat down beside her brothers. Egholm had his coffee 
 at his own table. 
 
 Sivert fell to on his coffee and cakes with noisy 
 delight. 
 
 " Fve been thinking," he said, " if there's really 
 any strength to speak of in stuff like this. When a 
 man's going down into the earth, you know, he wants 
 strengthening things. But perhaps you haven't heard 
 about the great big well that's to be started on at once, 
 to-morrow the very day ? " 
 
 " It's quite correct," put in his father, with ready 
 support. " He's going to dig us a well. A palace like 
 this ought to have a well of its own — that's clear." 
 
 " But what does he know about digging wells ? " 
 asked Hedvig. 
 
 Sivert had to set down his cup and lean back on 
 the settee to express his utter contempt. 
 
 " D'you mean to say, girl, I don't know how to dig 
 a well ? Why, I've dug wells miles deep or more ; as 
 near as could be. And then I only stopped because it 
 was getting too hot to stand so far down. Wasn't tired, 
 not a bit, nor anything else. Oh, I can do heaps of
 
 20 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 things, you've no idea. Why, just at this very moment, 
 with a well just starting, I'm tangled up in a love 
 affair at the same time. Manage both as easy as 
 winking." 
 
 " Look here, Sivert," said Hedvig, " we'll say nothing 
 about the well, whether you can or you can't. But 
 don't come telling me there's ever a girl that'd have you. 
 That's too much." 
 
 Here Egholm interposed. 
 
 " Have him ? Lord, yes, the girl's only too pleased." 
 
 " Who is it, then ? " 
 
 Sivert blinked his eye with an air of mystery and 
 did not answer, but his father coughed, and said : 
 
 " Well, he doesn't know himself yet, to tell the 
 truth. Ahem ... I haven't told him yet — there's no 
 hurry about that. But I don't mind saying she's a 
 very good girl — a fitting mate for Sivert in every way, 
 and more. Daughter of one Bisserup, deceased. I 
 don't remember her Christian name." 
 
 It was rarely that a free and joyful laugh was heard 
 in Egholm's house. But at the moment he mentioned 
 Bisserup's name, all saw at once the most ridiculous 
 figure in the town, the draggled, blind, dilapidated 
 scarecrow whose breeches hung down behind to his 
 hocks. And next moment came the vision of his 
 daughter Petrea, in short skirts and sloppy cloth shoes. 
 All of them, the mother, Sivert, Hedvig, and Emanuel, 
 burst out laughing, and it was minutes before they 
 recovered. 
 
 Egholm tried to call them to order. 
 
 " Never mind what you say — it's a match for Sivert, 
 and a match it's going to be." 
 
 Sivert enjoyed the joke hugely. With a comically 
 serious air he said :
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 21 
 
 " There, now ! And I was just wishing and hoping 
 it might be her ! She'll be nice to think of when I'm far 
 deep down in my lovers' well ! " 
 
 But Hedvig felt suddenly out of spirits. Her face, 
 flushed with laughing, lost its colour, and her cup 
 rattled in its saucer as she said, with an attempt at 
 composure : 
 
 " You surely don't mean to have that brushmaker 
 into the family ? " 
 
 " You seem to forget that Bisserup's dead and 
 buried long ago." 
 
 " And if he is, they'll still remember him for ages 
 to come in the place — how he used to go about as a 
 laughing-stock everywhere, stinking of filth and rags, 
 and hanging on to Petrea's skirts with his great ugly 
 fist." 
 
 " It's not our place to visit the sins of the father 
 upon the children." 
 
 " Petrea herself 's as bad as her father, or worse. 
 And she's half mad herself, too, and ..." 
 
 " And how many do you think'd be found all sane, 
 if it came to the point ? Anyhow, it doesn't show if 
 they are." 
 
 " Perhaps you'll say it doesn't show that her neck's 
 all awry ? " 
 
 " Only on one side." 
 
 " That's meant to be funny, I suppose ! I've seen a 
 lot of funny things, but never anything so utterly mad 
 as this." 
 
 Hedvig had risen to her feet ; her face was perfectly 
 white. Her mother nudged her from behind. 
 
 " How dare you, girl ! " said her father threateningly, 
 but with a certain uneasiness in his voice. 
 
 " Dare ! I'm simply talking sense, that's all. But
 
 22 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 you, you fancy every wild idea that comes into your 
 head's to be carried out, though it drags you and mother 
 and the rest of us in the dirt. And you've no sort of 
 right to." 
 
 It looked as if the scene would end, as so often before, 
 in Egholm's turning furious and doing ugly things. But 
 this time it was not so. Egholm was grown more 
 restrained now in various ways. He sat down facing 
 them, and talked the matter over quietly, even with a 
 sort of irony. 
 
 " So you think I make a mess of things on every 
 possible occasion ? You consider I have played my 
 cards with utter lack of skill — and that after I've worked 
 my way up from the depths of poverty to the possession 
 of a house and garden — not exactly a palace, perhaps, 
 but yet good enough for you to honour it with your 
 presence now and then — to a business that gives us a 
 livelihood, and a name which in certain quarters is 
 held good enough for some degree of credit ? " 
 
 " I didn't say that, father. I know you've got on. 
 Nobody can see that better than I can. But — but, 
 after all, is it so much your own doing ? " (Here 
 Hedvig flushed a little.) " I mean, I don't think you've 
 looked after it as well as you might. Not as much as 
 you did, say, with that steam-turbine that you fancied 
 you'd invented. You were always running down to the 
 sea all hours of the day, until the whole thing burst up 
 and went to pieces. Huh ! And Madam Hermansen's 
 bad leg, that you tried to cure with jelly-fish and messy 
 things and saying prayers, and it's only got ever so 
 much worse. And there's heaps of things . . . your 
 own ideas and fancies, you don't mind working for 
 them. But as for the business, it just looks after 
 itself."
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 23 
 
 Egholm was evidently struck by her words, but he 
 only said : 
 
 " It's hard, indeed, to have your own flesh and blood 
 turn against you like this. As for the steam-turbine, I 
 did invent it. It worked, as true as I'm alive. Sivert 
 was there at the time. But I sacrificed it to God. He 
 had given me a sign that it did not suit His purpose to 
 have it known as yet. As for Madam Hermansen's 
 leg, there are difficulties there, I admit, but I haven't 
 given up hope. I seek and work and plague myself 
 for the benefit of others. My inventions — aren't they 
 all simply designed to bring in money to make things 
 easier for you all ? And then you talk about mad 
 fancies, and that's all the thanks I get ! " 
 
 " And your last mad fancy — I suppose you'll say 
 that's all for our good as well ? " 
 
 " My last ? Which . . . what do you mean ? " 
 
 " I mean about Sivert and Bisserup's girl." 
 
 " Why, so it is. And in more ways than one." 
 
 " Huh ! " 
 
 " But of course a scatter-brained chit of a girl like 
 you can't see it. The girl — she gets married, which is 
 the destiny of woman. Sivert is elevated from the 
 status of a loafer to the dignity of a family man. And 
 finally — well, finally, I may say I don't consider it 
 altogether a mad idea to get a little money into the 
 family." 
 
 " She's as rich as a countess," said Sivert, with a 
 chuckle. " Didn't you know ? " 
 
 " Exactly," said his father proudly. 
 
 " Saved up out of what they got from the parish, I 
 suppose ? " said Hedvig. 
 
 " Quite possibly," answered Egholm, unmoved. 
 " It's no business of ours to inquire into the sources of
 
 24 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 their wealth. All we need trouble about is to pocket 
 what falls to our share. They say her mattress is 
 stuffed half and half with notes. I've heard it said. . . ." 
 
 Hedvig marked how her father's eyes glittered. 
 And in a flash she remembered how they had ghttered 
 with just that look ever since she was a child, as often 
 as any question of money arose. And a tumult of 
 disgust and indignation rose in her, as she realised that 
 no power on earth could deter him now from this last 
 shameless plan of his. How he proposed to bring it 
 about, and what foundations there might be for his 
 confidence, she had no idea, but her heart shrank at the 
 thought of having the whole town jeering once more at 
 this new lunacy on her father's part. 
 
 She sprang up with a jerk, went to the piano and 
 put on her jacket. Then, speaking with a firmness and 
 emphasis that gave her words an almost prophetic 
 weight, she said : 
 
 " Well, it's been a lovely evening, I'm sure. I came 
 home here because I'd a grand and wonderful surprise 
 for you, father. But you cut the ground from under my 
 feet with your own. A beautiful surprise you had for 
 me, wasn't it ? — a half-witted, wiy-necked sister-in-law, 
 of most respected family. vSo there's no need to trouble 
 about my news now. It might be too much all at once." 
 
 " What are you talking about now ? " asked her 
 father gently. He was always ready to listen to any- 
 thing that savoured of mystery. " If you've anything 
 to say worth sa3ang, out with it. It's the least yow. can 
 do after the way you've been going on." 
 
 " No ! " said Hedvig, quivering all over. " No. 
 I'm going. And the lovely surprise I had for you, I'll 
 bury it deep, never fear. And take good care it's never 
 found"
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 25 
 
 " Why, then — there's the door," said her father in 
 the same gentle voice. But this time there was an 
 undertone of something darkly threatening. " Mind 
 the step ! " 
 
 Hedvig went back to the Toldbod, and up to her 
 room, opening the window wide to cool her cheeks. It 
 was late when she undressed, and sat again for a little 
 on her bed, her teeth chattering with cold. Then she 
 got up and moved to draw the window to. 
 
 " Hedvig," called a voice from below. It was Si vert. 
 
 " What do you want ? " 
 
 " I want you to stop bothering about the old man's 
 nonsense. I only backed him up because of the coffee 
 and sitting in there. D'you think I ever meant it 
 about Petrea ? No, thank goodness I'm a sight too 
 conceited myself for that ! " 
 
 " Oh, what a miserable coward you are. Si vert." 
 
 " I am an awful coward, I know. But I'm awfully 
 clever too. I just say Amen-so-be-it to it all, so I can 
 go about at home just as I please and he never says 
 a word. Think I'd be married to Petrea ? Never ! 
 Who'd ask her, I should like to know ? Do you think 
 I'd dare, even if I wanted to ? " 
 
 Hedvig laughed a little in spite of herself. 
 
 " No ! There you are ! " said Si vert joyfully. " I 
 wouldn't dare, not to save my life. But what does it 
 matter anyway ? We rub along all right as it is ; I get 
 all I want to eat, and sing as much as I please, and 
 dig away at ever so deep wells, just for the show of it. 
 And all the time I'm dreaming of true love in heaven 
 and earth. I've Hfted up my eyes to a daughter of the 
 fancy drapery, no less." 
 
 " Well, well, Sivert, it's all right. But get along 
 now ; I'm cold."
 
 26 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " But d'you know who it is I've chosen ? Minna 
 Lund. By the celebrated Lord Almighty, I swear it. 
 Minna Lund and no other. Madness, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, you're mad right enough. But . . . 
 Good-night, Sivert." 
 
 " Anyhow, mad or not mad, she's to be my bride ! 
 One fine day you'll see me as a son-in-law of the fancy 
 drapery, and what will you say to that ? " 
 
 " If you're as ambitious as all that, the sooner you 
 stop gadding about at nights like a vagabond, the 
 better." 
 
 " I can't sleep. Haven't slept aU day for all the 
 worry and speculating about it — and after a sleepless day 
 I never can sleep at night. I'm going down to the 
 harbour now, and light the end of my cigar at the lantern 
 on the mole. Farewell, dear sister mine. So glad you 
 said that about being a vagabond because of going for 
 a walk at night. I met Johan Fors only a few minutes 
 back. Out with his viohn and all. So that's two vaga- 
 bonds out vagabonding to-night — what ? " 
 
 Hedvig drew back hastily, flushed with a sweet 
 warmth. Johan Fors. ... Ah ! His name was enough 
 to make her dizzy, make her forget all else in the world. 
 She sat up in bed with the clothes pulled up to her chin, 
 and her legs curled under her. So Johan Fors was 
 abroad to-night ? Johan Fors — there was a sort of 
 strength about the name. And he was strong, yes. 
 That brown, powerful neck of his — what did it matter 
 that he wore no collar ? And as for the spots of paint 
 all over his clothes, why, that too was a delight. When 
 she told him about it : " Ugh, what a mess your clothes 
 are in," he would look down at his dreadfully smeared 
 waistcoat and ask innocently, " Where ? " Hedvig 
 laughs happily under the bedclothes, her heart full of
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 27 
 
 Johan Fors. Her ice-cold feet come gradually back 
 to life, as she shifts them alternately one over the other. 
 
 Malersvend,^ she thinks to herself again — oh, but he 
 is a kingly Malersvend (the words, kongelig Malersvend, 
 have a sort of charm about them, and she repeats them 
 proudly). He had been in Italy and [in France. The 
 other painters took off their hats to him in the street. 
 Ay, and the masters too. And then he would take off 
 his broad-brimmed hat again. If he happened to 
 be wearing it, that is. Johan Fors often went about 
 without a hat. And no wonder, with such a head of 
 hair. Like a helmet in itself, set grandly on behind. 
 
 Hedvig thinks with delicious recollection of something 
 Johan Fors had said to her one day about the way she 
 walked. And then of his music, that every one agreed 
 was wonderful. Hedvig herself has never heard it, 
 but he has promised to play for her one day. He never 
 plays for anyone, they say. And that is why he goes 
 wandering off to the woods, or down to the shore, at 
 night, with his violin in a leather bag. Hedvig would 
 love to be a wild creature in the woods, or a little bird 
 in a tree, to wake at his playing, and sit all night unseen 
 under a leaf and listen. 
 
 But then, suppose she were to move, and he dis- 
 covered her ! He would not know who it was ! He 
 would be furious, snatch up his gun . . . Hedvig sees 
 herself looking down into the blackness of a gun-barrel, 
 and, above it, one of Johan Fors' blue eyes fixed on her. 
 An instant more, and the shot rings out, and with a 
 thrill of dehcious terror she realises that she is dead. 
 
 No, not dead. Only awake now. She sits up in bed, 
 marvelling to think how real it seemed. She had 
 actually seen the flash when he fired. And she had 
 
 ^ journeyman painter, as distinct from his master, " Malermester."
 
 28 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 heard his violin. Why, she could hear it still ! What — 
 what was this ? She leaps out of bed and runs to the 
 window. The music is still there. And there — she 
 can see quite clearly — by the wall of the church stands 
 Johan Fors with his violin, his face turned towards her. 
 
 From Hr. van Haag's bedroom close by comes the 
 sound of a window fastening. And Hedvig realises 
 that he must have pulled the window to with a bang — 
 hence her dream of the gun. 
 
 Johan Fors has seen her now. He waves his big 
 hat and comes a few steps nearer. The music spatters 
 from the strings — a strange melody, that sets Hedvig 
 trembling. 
 
 The man in the churchyard plays and plays, playing 
 the grey sleepy night to shreds. His bow races and 
 flashes furiously over the strings, till at last he throws 
 out a sparkling shower of melody, and then all dies 
 away in one long, breathless note from end to end of the 
 bow. Then quickly he turns and moves away. 
 
 Hedvig strains her eyes to see — and marks with 
 shame that her eyes are very wet. A little after, as 
 she was going back to bed, came Johan Fors' voice 
 below. 
 
 " Hedvig ! Did you hear me playing, Hedvig ? " 
 
 " Yes " — ^in a whisper. 
 
 " Did you like it ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed." 
 
 " I made that up myself. It didn't sound properly, 
 because the strings are all damp. But that wasn't why 
 I stopped. Some one looked out of the window next 
 door. So I stopped. There are three pieces really — 
 they go together. I'll come up and play the rest. 
 Throw me down the key, and I'll come." 
 
 Hedvig slips on some clothes and goes down herself.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 29 
 
 " Why didn't you throw me the key ? " asks Johan 
 Fors. " Now your feet '11 be cold." 
 
 Hedvig's heart swelled at the little thoughtful 
 kindness, leaving no room for any suspicion. And it 
 seemed the most natural thing in the world to let Johan 
 Fors draw her to him and kiss her. His cheek was 
 wet and cold. 
 
 " Now go back to bed while I play. Could you hear 
 the first one was about the birds of passage coming 
 again ? " 
 
 " Oh, but ..." No, Hedvig feels she dare not. 
 There — what a noise his step makes in the passage. 
 
 " Right — we'll stay down here," he agrees at once, 
 and takes out his violin again. 
 
 " No, no, you mustn't play now ! " 
 
 " Mustn't play ? " he echoes in astonishment. 
 
 " No, no, you mustn't. They'd hear it all over the 
 house, and somebody'd come." 
 
 " Well, what if they do ? Don't you want to hear 
 the next one about the birds of passage finding their old 
 place again ? " 
 
 " Not now. Oh, not now." 
 
 " But I tell you I made those pieces up myself. 
 They aren't by anybody else. I got the end of the last 
 two to-night, and I don't mind telling you they're 
 splendid." 
 
 " Yes, but not now." 
 
 " Now, didn't you ask me yourself to play for you, 
 and say any time would suit you ? It suits me now, 
 for now they're finished, and now we'll go up and hear 
 them." 
 
 " No ! Oh, you must be mad. Fancy coming here 
 in the middle of the night playing to people when they're 
 in bed."
 
 30 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 Hedvig was on the verge of laughter, and incUned 
 to say something ridiculous. But Johan broke in 
 harshly : 
 
 " Then you're not what I thought you were." 
 
 Hedvig's lips trembled, as she said : 
 
 " Another time, if you like." 
 
 " There'll never be another time." 
 
 " Oh, but can't you understand . . ." 
 
 " I understand all right." 
 
 " Well, then . . ." 
 
 " I understand I've come to the wrong place, that's 
 all." 
 
 " Not the wrong place, Johan— only the wrong 
 time ! " 
 
 " Yes, I have. The girl I came to see's not here." 
 
 Hedvig's teeth were chattering with cold and 
 emotion. 
 
 " Wasn't it me you came to see, then ? " She 
 noticed herself that she called him " De" instead of 
 " Du," 1 and the shght change seemed to bring an icy 
 coldness with it. 
 
 Johan looked at her and looked away. Hedvig 
 could not see his eyes, but when he spoke his voice 
 was rough and harsh, making her inwardly helpless. 
 
 " No," he said. " It wasn't you I came to see. I 
 came to see a girl that I could love, and play for a little. 
 Not an empty nightdress like you — no, nor a silly little 
 goose like you either ! " 
 
 Hedvig turned and walked away on her bare feet 
 But Johan's words pursued her, nudging her as it were 
 from behind, till she almost stumbled. 
 
 " I don't care about you a bit. You're nothing. 
 Yes, you are something. And I'll teU you what. 
 
 1 i.e. using the more formal mode of address.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 31 
 
 You're just as ordinary as anybody else. That's what 
 you are. Like a paving-stone in a stone pavement, 
 that's what you are. Remember that. There's 
 thousands just hke you — thousands ! " 
 
 Hedvig heard no more. She found her way to her 
 room, and flung herself on the bed.
 
 Ill 
 
 SIVERT thrust his angular legs unwillingly out 
 of bed, yawned enormously, and stretched him- 
 self. The sun was sparkling in at his attic 
 window. He looked round searchingly ; here he was 
 once more, bumped out of his own comfortable world 
 where sleep and dreams were supreme, into cold-blooded, 
 hostile earth. There lay his clothes, in limp, scattered 
 heaps ; now he would have to get into them, and take 
 up the struggle for hfe once more. Ah me ! Had his 
 father gone, he wondered, so he could hope for a cup 
 of coffee in peace with his mother ? Oh, if a man could 
 only sleep undisturbed for a hundred years ! Sivert 
 had dreamed most wondrously that night, of wandering 
 round in the apartments of Kobmand Lund, holding 
 Minna by the hand, while her father, little Lund himself, 
 laid his head on one side and watched them, a picture 
 of smiling goodwill. And Sivert had been elegantly 
 dressed that night — in his green suit. The recollection 
 of it drove him to the wardrobe, to enjo\^ the sight of 
 it in reality. Yes, there it was. But alas ! there it 
 would have to stay. 
 
 Then suddenly came a bright idea. With shaking 
 hand he takes down the precious suit, pulls on the 
 trousers backwards, as if stealing into them by a hidden 
 way, puts on the waistcoat stealthily, and steals 
 into the jacket ; then, having routed out collar and 
 
 tie from a drawer, he stands before the little mirror. 
 
 32
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 38 
 
 laughing delightedly at his plan, and muttering to 
 himself : 
 
 " Devil take it, if I can't propose I might at least 
 pretend to\" 
 
 Egholm came home just as Si vert came down the 
 stairs from the attic. He noticed the unwonted splendour 
 at once, and started. He frowned at first, but his brow 
 cleared, and he said : 
 
 " That's right. You remember what we agreed." 
 
 This fairly started Sivert on his facile descent ; 
 retreat was no longer possible. 
 
 For the present everything went swimmingly. 
 His father indicated with a motion of the hand that 
 Sivert might sit down at table and have his meal with 
 him. 
 
 " And what are you going to say to her ? " he asked. 
 His eyes were alight with eagerness to take up the 
 task. 
 
 Sivert reached out boldly and helped himself to 
 food ; he felt he was a person of importance at the 
 moment. 
 
 " ril manage it easily ; you leave it to me." 
 
 " But how are you going to begin ? " 
 
 " I'm not going to begin at all." 
 
 " What do you ... ? " 
 
 Sivert emptied his mouth, smiled shyly, and half 
 rose from his seat. 
 
 "I'm all dressed up in my green suit," he said. 
 " Isn't that enough ? " 
 
 " Oh, splendid ! I forgot. And so you'll just show 
 yourself, as it were, and let the sight of you do the 
 rest ? " 
 
 " The sight of me will do it all," said Sivert. 
 
 " Excellent. And then ? " 
 3
 
 34 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " Why, then, I take it she will begin." 
 
 Si vert's faculties were concentrated to the full on 
 the business of the moment, to wit, of eating. He 
 answered at hazard, trusting to the inspiration of the 
 moment, without seeing a step beyond. 
 
 " You've the making of a general in you, my boy." 
 
 " By the grace of God," said Si vert solemnly, swallow- 
 ing a huge mouthful, " I hope to do you credit in this 
 affair." 
 
 Fru Egholm came in from the kitchen. 
 
 " If you ask me, I think you'd better let it keep for 
 a bit, and see how things go," she said, referring to the 
 proposed proposal. 
 
 " Let it keep ? Whatever for ? It's the early 
 bird, you know . . ." 
 
 " The early bird's apt to get caught for his pains 
 if he doesn't look what he's doing." 
 
 " If you've nothing but that sort of nonsense to say, 
 you'd better keep out of it. Sivert needs encourage- 
 ment, not old wives' foolery." 
 
 " Well, well, just as you please." 
 
 " Who's that outside there ? " Egholm had caught 
 a scraping of feet in the kitchen. 
 
 " Oh, nobody," said Fru Egholm uneasily. 
 
 But just at that moment Hedvig herself came in, 
 pale and red-eyed after the events of the night. Her 
 father drew himself up sternly, but Hedvig tried to 
 smile. 
 
 " And what brings you here, young lady, may I ask ? " 
 
 " I came to ask you, father," said Hedvig, the smile 
 on her face flickering up and vanishing like the flame of 
 a lamp run dry — " I came to ask you if we hadn't better 
 make it a bargain, with the business we spoke of last 
 night ? "
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 35 
 
 " I've no recollection of any business last night." 
 
 " I mean, the surprise I've got for you, if you'll give 
 up all idea of making a scandal with Sivert and Petrea 
 Bis." 
 
 " Er — h'm ! A surprise, you say. Is it anything 
 of money value ? " 
 
 " Well, no, but . . ." 
 
 " It would take twenty thousand Kroner to make it 
 a bargain. That's the amount of Petrea's fortune, at 
 least." 
 
 That " at least " filled Hedvig with indignation anew, 
 and froze the last of her smile. It meant that her 
 father was stiU building unfounded castles in the blackest 
 dark. She had worked out two ways of averting the 
 disaster. One was to make a joke of it, by calhng it a 
 bargain. If only she could have made her father smile, 
 much would have been gained. But this attempt had 
 failed. Her one alternative was to throw herself at his 
 feet and beg of him to refrain, A woman always reckons 
 with the possibihty of getting what she wants by 
 favour. Now, under her father's merciless eye, favours 
 were evidently nowhere, and she cast the idea aside 
 contemptuously. She turned to Sivert, who, with 
 downcast eyes, had continued his meal without slacken- 
 ing speed. 
 
 " Sivert," she said entreatingly, " you remember 
 what you promised ? " 
 
 Sivert giggled evasively. " What promise ? " 
 
 " Didn't you stand outside my window last night 
 and swear you'd have nothing to do with all this ? " 
 said Hedvig passionately. 
 
 " Last night . . . ? " 
 
 "Oh, you remember well enough ! " 
 
 " What did I look hke ? "
 
 36 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " You looked like the miserable little beast that you 
 are ! " 
 
 " You've got hold of the wrong little beast, I think. 
 Was it me with a violin, you mean, scraping away so 
 merrily among the tombstones ? And you stood at the 
 window in your nightdress, and came down afterwards 
 and let me into the Toldbod's sacred walls ? And did 
 I say I was a painter, and my name Johan ? " 
 
 Hedvig felt a venomous tooth at her very heart ; 
 the poison almost stupefied her. She drew a deep 
 breath or so, and would have spoken ; then, bowing her 
 head, she walked out. Her mother called to her, 
 " Hedvig, dear ..." but she went on without looking 
 back. 
 
 Egholm turned to Si vert. " What was that about 
 last night ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, she's off her head, and seeing ghosts. And 
 then to come along here and spoil things when we were 
 as comfortable as could be. ..." 
 
 Somehow the comfortableness of things seemed to 
 have vanished. Some one came to be " taken." And 
 Egholm's face wrinkled nervously, irritably. Nothing 
 wore down his strength more than the business of his 
 profession. He never got to take it as a matter of habit. 
 There was some pecuharity about his brain which made 
 him invent, as it were, the whole science of photo- 
 graphy for every plate he exposed, and as photography 
 had long since ceased to interest him, the invention cost 
 him untold mental effort. Egholm invented walking 
 every time he crossed the room ; he invented mastication 
 at every meal ; but these things, and indeed all else, were 
 a constant source of interest to himself. Only photo- 
 graphy — which by ill-luck was just the thing he had to 
 live by — bored him unspeakably.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 37 
 
 After going into the waiting-room and inviting two 
 peasant girls in their best finery to be seated, his feeling 
 towards Sivert changed. 
 
 " Why haven't you gone ? " he asked. " You 
 make such a beastly noise over your food — I don't want 
 to hear it any more." 
 
 Sivert's mouth was absolutely crammed at the 
 moment ; he swallowed the mass without chewing it, 
 and the Adam's apple in his throat, big enough at the 
 best of times, jumped like a rat in a sack. 
 
 " Half a minute," he said. " Before I go — wouldn't 
 you say, now, I'm quite decent-looking — what ? " 
 
 His father looked him up and down coldly. 
 
 " No," he said. " I shouldn't. You look like an 
 abominable home-made idiot." 
 
 " Well, then, don't you think — we might as well give 
 it up ? " 
 
 " Give it up ! You hold your tongue, and be off with 
 you this minute ! " 
 
 " Then you'd better lend me a Krone, to — well, to 
 improve my appearance." 
 
 " Blackmail ! Oh, well, here you are, and be off with 
 you. And if you're not back here in an hour's time 
 with something sensible to report, I'll . . ." 
 
 Egholm carried the unspoken threat into his dark 
 room. But Sivert felt himself consigned to something 
 darker still. 
 
 Two hours later — dinner - time. Emanuel comes 
 home from school, and learns of the morning's happen- 
 ings from his mother. Now and again Egholm him- 
 self passes restlessly through the kitchen, frowning in 
 evident anxiety. Fru Egholm and Emanuel lapse into 
 silence while he is near. Now that the plan is actually 
 on foot, there seems nothing amusing about it at all.
 
 38 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 Where is Sivert all this time ? Thrown himself into the 
 sea, perhaps, finding no other way of escape. And 
 Hedvig — will she lose her place when the scandal is 
 known ? Fru Egholm is filled with bitter thoughts as 
 she moves among her pots and pans, running her fingers 
 through her hair from time to time. And yet, she 
 cannot but admit that this is a mere nothing compared 
 with what she has been through before. 
 
 Egholm's manner gives no clue to what is in his mind. 
 At the moment he is seated at his table, head buried 
 in his hands, brooding heavily. 
 
 Emanuel plucks his mother by the sleeve. She 
 glances round : outside, under the cherry tree, stands 
 Sivert himself. Sivert, Ump and miserable, looking up 
 at the house. 
 
 They sign to him encouragingly, but he shakes his 
 head. 
 
 Then suddenly Egholm rises to his feet and goes to 
 the door. He catches sight of Sivert at once, and goes 
 towards him with heavy steps. 
 
 " What the devil are you doing there ? " he asks 
 furiously. " Anyone'd think you'd hanged yourself, and 
 been cut down too soon." 
 
 Why doesn't he run away ? thought Emanuel. 
 
 Sivert did not run away. His lips parted in a 
 generous but uncomfortable smile, and he said : 
 
 " Must have time to get over it a bit, you know." 
 
 His father stared at him blankly. 
 
 " Well, you'd better come in, anyway. Give him 
 something to eat I " 
 
 Sivert straightened himself up and followed his 
 father into the house, exchanging uncomprehending 
 glances with his mother and Emanuel. 
 
 " Well, what did you say to her ? Hurry up ! "
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 39 
 
 " Oh, heaps of things. Quite an interesting con- 
 versation." 
 
 " Did you say anything about her father's funeral ? 
 That's what I should have started with." 
 
 " Yes, that's just what I did too." 
 
 " Well, and what then ? " 
 
 " Well, we talked about that for a bit It was a 
 first-rate coffin, she said, at the price. Good solid bit of 
 work." 
 
 " A pretty conversation, with the pair of you ! Go 
 on!" 
 
 " Then I asked what it cost — fifty Kr. And where 
 they got it — from Andreasen's. If it was black ? And 
 how many handles — eight." 
 
 " Yes, yes, that's all very well. But get along. What 
 about the proposal ? How did you set about it ? " 
 
 " Well, I didn't set about it much." 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, man, what did you do, then ? " 
 
 Here Fru Egholm interposed. The boy must have 
 time to swallow a mouthful of food. 
 
 Egholm waited a few minutes ; then, with a sudden 
 suspicion, he burst out violently : 
 
 " You scoundrel, you haven't been there at all ! " 
 
 Sivert thrust one hand into his pocket, drew out a 
 brand-new scrubbing-brush, and set it down without a 
 word in front of his father's plate. 
 
 " By Heaven, but he has ! " said Egholm, completely 
 appeased by the proof. And he remained patiently 
 silent until Sivert had finished his meal. 
 
 Fru Egholm began clearing the things away ; Sivert 
 leaned back on the settee. 
 
 " Funny thing, isn't it," he began. " But I've clean 
 forgotten it all now." 
 
 " Oh, don't worry him now," said his mother. " A
 
 40 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 young man's always bashful about such things, and 
 natural enough too." 
 
 " I don't want to hear about ' such things ' at all. 
 But surely he can tell us whether it went off all right or 
 not." 
 
 " Well, it went off really better than I'd ever 
 dreamed." 
 
 " She said yes ? For Heaven's sake, man, can't you 
 say yes or no ? 
 
 Sivert began to show signs of anger. He had eaten 
 all he could, so there was nothing to lose in that 
 respect. 
 
 " It's no good shouting like that," he said ; " order- 
 ing a fellow about. You're very clever, no doubt, but you 
 don't know a thing about proposing and mysteries of 
 that sort. Perhaps you did in the days of the ancients, 
 when you were young — but you don't now. I went 
 there to propose, and that's the truth. And then she 
 comes sliding in in her cloth shoes, and her head on 
 one side like a lame duck in a thunderstorm. All well 
 and good. But in the back room behind the shop there 
 was her mother in bed with her chin not shaved, and a 
 crutch across the coverlet. So what could I do but buy 
 a scrubbing-brush. Scrubbing-brushes were nearest on 
 the counter." 
 
 " And you mean to say that's all you did ? Bought 
 a scrubbing-brush ? " 
 
 " After a bit I bought another one. Likewise a 
 nail-brush." 
 
 Sivert drew forth the mentioned articles and set 
 them beside the first. Egholm fingered the things 
 absently, shook his head, and said : 
 
 " Good heavens ! Was there ever such a fool ! " 
 
 " It made a first-rate impression," said Sivert con-
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 41 
 
 fidently. " Just as I was buying the nail-brush at last — 
 I bought the things separately, you know, and paid for 
 them separately, to spin it out, though the place stank 
 like a pair of long boots — the mother beast inside stuck 
 out her crutch and pushed the door open wide, to get a 
 better look at me in my elegant suit, with collar and tie 
 and a cigar alight." 
 
 " What about your intended ? Did she say anything 
 at all ? " 
 
 " Not a word, but you ought to have seen me 
 striding proudly out of the place, all the same — ' Farvel, 
 Froken ! ' hat up and down stiffly like a pump-handle, 
 the way they do in Silkeborg. I've been in Silkeborg 
 myself more than once, and got on first-rate with the 
 girls." 
 
 Egholm gave way to a short laugh here and there, 
 when his imagination followed the scene in detail — 
 Sivert in the httle, evil-smelling shop — but after a while 
 he said harshly : 
 
 " The business is not finished with yet, I must 
 think over what's the next thing to do. Meanwhile, 
 you can set to work on the well." 
 
 " I can't go digging wells in my best suit," pleaded 
 Sivert. 
 
 " You may go digging stark naked for ah I care. But 
 dig you shall, and that within the next half-hour. You 
 understand ? " 
 
 Sivert went up reluctantly to exchange his green 
 magnificence for a pair of working trousers and a blue 
 blouse. Emanuel went with him. Emanuel thought 
 there was no one in the world so amusing as brother 
 Sivert. No one could make pea-shooters as he did ; 
 certainly no one could ever tell such dreadfully exciting 
 stories without end.
 
 42 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 Sivert stripped to the skin ; he was in excellent 
 spirits now. 
 
 " There," he said, " That's what a real live man 
 looks like. I'll give you five minutes to view. Ever 
 see such muscles ? No, of course not." 
 
 Suddenly he dropped his voice to a confidential 
 whisper. 
 
 " Emanuel, my one and only chosen brother ! Hear 
 now how the blessing of God descended upon my head. 
 I didn't go straight to Bisserup's, but stayed out in the 
 churchyard quite a while, deep in thought. By reason 
 of a miracle that happened. Namely, this : Just as I 
 got to Bisserup's door, who should I meet ? Minna 
 Lund, my beloved ! And do you think I'd ever give 
 her up ? No ! (Thanks, thanks, Emanuel, for shaking 
 that innocent head. I'll tell you, after, all about how I 
 plundered the corpse of the Burgomaster in Slagelse). 
 No, and for ever no ! I walked past gay and casual as 
 could be, and took off my hat with respectful earnest- 
 ness. Like this ! " 
 
 " And did she nod to you ? " 
 
 " To tell the truth, sonny, I don't know. You see, 
 
 I couldn't help looking the other way. But that yellow 
 
 dog of hers was with her, a little behind. I know the 
 
 creature personally, from visiting at her father's house." 
 
 " And did it wag its tail ? " 
 
 " Like anything ! And I feel now," added Sivert 
 triumphantly, " with ever-increasing conviction, that I 
 shall one day lead my Minna home as my true and faithful 
 wife ! Now come along with me, and I'll show you the 
 short cut through to hell ! "
 
 IV 
 
 A TEMPEST of spring-cleaning, shifting of furni- 
 ture, and general rearrangement raged about the 
 Toldbod for some weeks, Fru van Haag went 
 about in an outlandish costume, with a coloured hand- 
 kerchief about her head, and a long yellow smock sugges- 
 tive of the land. This outer garment she kept scrupu- 
 lously buttoned, doubtless with good reason in the lack 
 of adequate coverings underneath. Only her shoes 
 were beyond reproach ; little shiny buckle shoes, set 
 with blue stones. Her eyes shone with a fever of com- 
 mand. Hedvig and a charwoman enlisted for the occa- 
 sion were flung from cellar to attic, their mistress exposing 
 them and herself to peril of their Uves in the mounting of 
 ladders and balancing on chair-backs merely to see if a 
 picture could be got to hang here or there. Mostly, it 
 could not. Fru van Haag would decide the question 
 with a careless pronouncement of sentence ; the light 
 was impossible, or the thing was " simply killed " by the 
 chiffonier. Malle Duse, the hireling, opined that such 
 objections were rank superstitions ; all very grand, no 
 doubt, but none the less reprehensible. How could the 
 chiffonier hurt a picture hanging half a yard away ? 
 Hedvig smiled and shook her head ; she had leapt light- 
 footed into the realm of taste, and revelled in it all. 
 Already her mistress had entrusted her, as a matter of 
 course, with full powers in the selection of flowers for 
 the rooms, though here, above all, there was the risk of 
 
 4^
 
 44 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 committing enormities against the wall-paper or curtains. 
 Hr. van Haag was billeted en pension with Fru Vang. 
 His chatelaine, in his absence, took her meals in the 
 kitchen. Apparently she enjoyed it, and even took a 
 particular pleasure in mimicking little eccentricities of 
 Malle Duse, such as picking her teeth with a splinter of 
 firewood, or drinking coffee from the saucer. This last 
 manoeuvre especially took her fancy, as a practical 
 means of getting hot coffee down quickly. Then she 
 could return to the work in hand with redoubled zest. 
 For the first few days Malle Duse herself looked with 
 marked disfavour upon this superfluous haste ; after 
 that, however, she seemed to recover her own lost youth 
 and spirits. She would suddenly burst into song — song 
 of an order terrific, yet with a power of encouragement 
 in it both for herself and the others. Raucous as a 
 savage war-cry it echoed through the place from morning 
 early to evening late, a single strophe incessantly re- 
 peated, until every lumbering piece of furniture was 
 polished and in place, carpets spread, curtains and 
 pictures hung, apartments and inventory swept and 
 garnished, washed and ironed and starched, and the 
 heavy atmosphere of the house changed to a freshness 
 as of the very breeze from the Belt. Not until then did her 
 song die away in a wail, and having ended, she thanked 
 the lady of the house profusely, as if she had been a guest 
 on holiday. By that time Fruen and Hedvig also were 
 well pleased as the Lord with His creation on the seventh 
 day. But, weary as slaves. Fruen sat down on the edge 
 of the kitchen table, Hedvig on a chair at her feet. A 
 final cup of coffee ; they drank with each other, and 
 laughed weakly. Then suddenly Fruen bent forward, 
 placed one emphatic finger on Hedvig's breast, and said : 
 " Who was he ? "
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 45 
 
 " Who ? " 
 
 " He." Fruen waved one arm in the air, with a 
 marvellous imitation of Johan Fors raising his hat. 
 
 Hedvig blushed. furiously, and said : 
 
 " I really don't know what you mean ? " 
 
 " Didn't you hear him playing ? The Uttle man 
 with the big hat ? " 
 
 " He's not httle ! " Hedvig burst out hotly. 
 
 Fruen laughed. 
 
 " Aha, my dear ! Well, I'll ask no more, though I 
 should love to know a little more about him. I never 
 heard such music. Tell me one thing, though — does he 
 live here ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Hedvig, with bowed head. 
 
 " Extraordinary place," said Fruen, and sat silent 
 for a while. Her eyes grew dark ; she was thinking, 
 no doubt, of her first arrival ; a moment later she had 
 evidently moved on ahead, for she broke out suddenly : 
 
 " Oh, Hedvig, I forgot. What did your father say ? " 
 
 " He sent his kind regards," said Hedvig mechani- 
 cally. She had long been prepared for the question, 
 and had her answer ready. 
 
 " Is that all ? Sent his kind regards ! What did he 
 say ? Wasn't he astonished ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Oh ! Not much, eh ? " 
 
 " Well, he — he's got such a lot of things to think 
 about." 
 
 " But surely he remembered me ? " 
 
 Hedvig had thought out the whole thing carefully 
 beforehand, and found no way but to lie m self-defence. 
 But it hurt her now to see it spread. She began hesitat- 
 ingly something about her father's being so queer, not 
 hke other people. . . .
 
 46 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " Of course he's not," said Fruen, with a smile. 
 " But what is he Uke ? " 
 
 It was not so easy to say. Hedvig's mind was full 
 at the moment of his latest shameful manoeuvres with 
 Sivert and the bmshmaker's daughter. But that was 
 too much for anyone else to understand. She chose 
 rather to tell of her father's inventions. Her cheeks 
 flu^hed with shame as she told how he had made a 
 machine thing, some years back — a turbine he called it — 
 that was fixed in a rotten old boat patched up with rags 
 and bits of gutter pipe and things, and people came 
 down to the beach in hundreds to see the wonderful 
 thing he'd talked so much about. But all they saw 
 was a man with his face all smeared with soot and dirt, 
 a barefooted man sitting in the boat, poking and stoking, 
 a laughing-stock for the whole town. 
 
 Hedvig looked up, but the indignation that filled her 
 at her own recital found no reflection in her mistress's 
 face. Fruen was to all appearance keenly interested. 
 
 Then Hedvig went on to tell of the house-building. 
 Her father, she explained in a choking voice, had bought 
 up material from the old workhouse when it was pulled 
 down. Over thirty loads of beams and planks and doors, 
 bricks and tiles and all sorts of refuse. Rotten and 
 filthy every bit of it. Then he and Sivert and Ditlev Pl0k 
 had stuck the crumbling baulks up endwise in holes dug 
 in the ground, and nailed planks across for walls. Of 
 all the mad, ungainly ways of building a house. A 
 chicken-house, or a pigsty, perhaps, but for human 
 beings. ... 1 And all the town laughed, of course, 
 till their sides ached. It was no pleasant thing in those 
 days to be known in Knarreby as Egholm's girl. Sivert, 
 trying to be funny, had got together a whole heap of 
 inner boards with wall-paper still on, and stuck them
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 47 
 
 up right facing the road. " And of course people said 
 clever things about our wonderful house that was papered 
 on the outside." 
 
 Hedvig drew a deep breath. 
 
 "And do you still hve there in the queer little house ? " 
 asked her mistress gently. 
 
 " Father did it all over with some sort of mortar 
 stuS when it was done, and whitewashed it after. But 
 what's the good of hiding it up hke that, when every 
 soul in the town knows it's rotten all through inside ? " 
 
 " But, my dear child, I can't see what you're so angry 
 about ? If your father hasn't the money — and I don't 
 suppose he has — how could he buy all kinds of expensive 
 things to build with ? " 
 
 " If he couldn't afford to get the proper things, what 
 did he want to buy for at all ? We might have stayed 
 where we were and paid rent, but father, he wanted to 
 say he owned the place — that's what it was, I know, 
 that made him buy up the bit of ground that was going 
 cheap. And the workhouse people gave him credit for 
 three months." 
 
 Now here was Hedvig saying all sorts of damaging 
 things against her father, and lo, the effect on Fru van 
 Haag was just the reverse of what it should have been. 
 Her imagination built up a picture of a man, restless, 
 ambitious, fighting bravely against the enormously 
 superior force of poverty. It was a figure approaching 
 very nearly to an ideal. How divinely different, at any 
 rate, from her own husband. And she burned with a 
 sense of injustice done to herself, in being thus saddled 
 with a creature so useless as he. 
 
 For, if women were ever to be anything but a futility, 
 even a hindrance in the world, surely it was their mission 
 to influence, to make something out of, their husbands
 
 48 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 and children. And what a husband for the purpose 
 was this of hers ! Hr. van Haag selected his striped 
 trousers with scrupulous care, he cleared his throat and 
 smoothed his moustaches and glanced with self-satis- 
 faction into every mirror on his way. Beyond that, he 
 did nothing, absolutely nothing, in hfe — could not, would 
 not do more. 
 
 They had travelled in the principal countries of 
 Europe — on her money. Hr. van Haag had learned 
 in the course of those voyagings that excellent tailors 
 were to be found in Paris and London, Vienna and 
 Rome. He knew the shop windows of a host of towns, 
 and how they reflected his passing image. That was as 
 far as his mind had been broadened by travel. 
 
 No, she thought to herself, if she had only prevented 
 her father from dismissing Kasper Egholm in the old 
 days . . . 
 
 A woman remembers every trifling detail of a love 
 affair to her last breath. But there was nothing trifling 
 here. Such white-hot love as that she had never, never 
 met with since. She felt the truth of it now, and sighed. 
 
 That errant mind of his might have been hers to 
 curb and guide. . . . Fru van Haag set her muscles at 
 the strain, with a feehng as if she were actually holding 
 in a refractory horse. 
 
 Hedvig was annoyed to find her words apparently of 
 so slight effect. But she had other cards to play. 
 
 " And then father goes about thinking he's a holy 
 man of God, and everything he does is to the glory of 
 the Lord, as if every bit of bread and dripping you put 
 in his hand were given him from Heaven. He prays 
 like this : ' O God, do lend me fifty Kroner ! ' — Fve 
 heard him myself — he made me join in too, once, when 
 I hved at home."
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 49 
 
 " But — heavens . . . then he really believes in 
 God ? " 
 
 " Believes . . . well, yes," said Hedvig hesitatingly. 
 
 "Strange. . . ." 
 
 " But there's plenty of people believe, only they 
 don't go dragging the Lord about after you hke a boy 
 with a dead cat on a string." 
 
 " Are there, though ? Who, for instance ? " 
 
 " Well, there's the priest." 
 
 " No, my dear Hedvig, don't come telling me that. 
 The priest himself believe in God ? I know this is quite 
 a remarkable little town in many ways, but ..." 
 
 This was beyond Hedvig altogether. What ? — the 
 priest who had confirmed her — didn't he believe in God ? 
 She could not help laughing at the idea. 
 
 But her mistress did not laugh. She sat there, 
 deeply earnest, with big, wondering eyes, leaning forward 
 a little, with her hands clasped under one knee. After 
 a little while she said : 
 
 " He'd be the first one that did, if so. I mean, of 
 course, believe quite simply. That's the only thing that 
 counts, really. I know all about their theological quibbles 
 and humbug. But you say your father simply asks God 
 to lend him fifty Kroner. That's the genuine thing. 
 The man who says he believes, but couldn't pray for fifty 
 Kroner — ^he doesn't count. He's just a fraud, a whited 
 sepulchre." 
 
 But Hedvig could not lose this point too ; all her 
 convictions were at stake. Better throw aside all reserve 
 and out with the worst at once. 
 
 " You couldn't find a bigger fraud than father," 
 
 she said. " You don't know him, Fru van Haag. But 
 
 I do. I've seen him lie flat on the floor, making up to 
 
 God, and then get up and be the cruellest, brutalest bully 
 
 4
 
 50 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 five minutes after. I won't say a word of what he's done 
 to me and my brother Sivert, but he's struck mother 
 more than once, yes — knocked her down ! " 
 
 Hedvig sprang up from her chair and stood facing her 
 mistress with flashing eyes, 
 
 " Yes, he's done that," she said. 
 
 What would this dehcate, upright flower of ladyhood 
 say to that ? Surely a woman must always be incensed 
 at the story of another woman wronged ? 
 
 Fru van-Haag closed her eyes, and said : 
 
 " I could quite imagine your father would not easily 
 find the right woman to manage his temperament. 
 Your mother, now, isn't she a little woman, rather a 
 weakly sort ? Ah, I thought as much. No, no, my dear, 
 you can't judge of these things so simply and easily just 
 from one side ; they're far too comphcated. Tempera- 
 ment's just fire. It needs to be fed, and guarded, and 
 kept within its proper bounds. But fire's a dangerous 
 thing. Your mother, I fancy, is just a child who has 
 burned her fingers. You and I must not judge your 
 father, dear, but understand him." 
 
 " I shall never understand he's anything but a 
 tyrant ! " 
 
 " Ah, you'll soon get tired of that, I'm sure." 
 
 " No ! Why ? " 
 
 Fruen slipped down from the table, busy with her 
 own thoughts. 
 
 " Why ? Oh, if for no other reason, because it's 
 such an ordinary point of view." 
 
 " Ordinary ? 
 
 " Yes, ordinary. Abominably ordinary." 
 
 Hedvig sat down slap on her kitchen chair, almost 
 in tears. 
 
 " Is it such a dreadful thing to be Hke other people ? "
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 51 
 
 " Yes ! " said Fru van Haag. " Ordinary life's just 
 nothing-and-water. Ah, I know it ! Keep away 
 from everything ordinary, tread on it, spit on it, I 
 say ! One day you'll see your father in a different 
 light."
 
 EGHOLM is furious. His plans have been upset 
 in the meanest fashion. Si vert has run away. 
 It takes two to make a couple. And Egholm 
 argues confusedly that if he had only had Sivert, he 
 could have got hold of Petrea all right, and then there 
 would have been a couple ! 
 
 But Sivert is gone, having left a note as follows : 
 " Fondest love, write soon. Your loving son, Sivert, 
 Glazier. Seeing I love another," 
 
 " Ungrateful scoundrel," says Egholm, trampling 
 on the letter of farewell. 
 
 " Doesn't it say where he's gone to ? " asks his 
 mother sadly. 
 
 " No, and I don't care. When he can treat his 
 parents in that heartless way." 
 
 " But perhaps they wouldn't have been happy after 
 all." 
 
 " They ? No, but / should ! " 
 
 " Never mind, Egholm, my dear, it may be all right 
 after all. I don't believe really she's got anything to 
 speak of. They owe money right and left, so I've 
 heard." 
 
 " And what then ? Every Ore they owe means so 
 much more capital in hand," argued Egholm fanatically, 
 and he went off in a fury for his morning walk. 
 
 He considered the possibility of tracking down 
 Sivert, catching him, bringing him back home ahve or 
 
 i'
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 53 
 
 , . . No, he would be no use, of course, unless he were 
 alive. But since neither the neighbours nor anyone 
 else apparently had seen anything of Sivert's move- 
 ments, he was forced at last to give up the chase and 
 return home. It was dinner-time when he got back. 
 His wife stood by the stove ; would it please him to 
 have dinner now ? 
 
 " Whenever you hke," he answered graciously, some- 
 what softened by the smeU of food. 
 
 Anna hurried as well as she could. She had got in 
 a good piece of steak for the occasion. That is, Egholm 
 was to have steak ; she herself had httle appetite just 
 now. How could she think of eating, with her darling 
 Sivert wandering Heaven knows where ? 
 
 But the wonder-working properties of that piece of 
 steak surpassed all she had ever imagined. Just as she 
 was tipping it out on to a dish, sending a most appetising 
 odour abroad — lo ! a hand and the sleeve of a green 
 jacket thrust down from the trap-door in the loft above, 
 beckoning to her. No face was to be seen — nothing 
 beyond that beckoning arm, but it was quite enough. 
 Not only does she recognise the sleeve, but she has 
 further reasons for supposing that Sivert himself is 
 attached thereto, and directing its motions towards the 
 dish of meat. Her motherly cares evaporate at once ; 
 she laughs indeed, all over her face, as she bears in the 
 dish to her husband. Luckily, he noticed nothing. 
 
 A moment later she is creaking softly up the stairs 
 with two nice pieces on a plate. She shakes her head 
 and smiles, playfully threatening, at Sivert, who smiles 
 back delightedly, plays an imaginary concertina, and is 
 generally amusing. Then, taking her hand, he leads 
 her across the loft through the piled-up rubbish lying 
 about everywhere.
 
 54 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 Right at the farther end he had fixed up a tent, with 
 a piece of old sailcloth. It was invisible a few steps 
 away, there being no window at that end. Inside the 
 tent he had shifted one of the tiles in the roof, letting in 
 a thin streak of light. His mother saw he had been 
 passing the time with a heap of dusty back numbers 
 of the illustrated papers, and had made some sort of a 
 bed for himself out of sacks and old clothes. They 
 whispered together. 
 
 " Si vert dear, you're not going to stay away for 
 long ? " 
 
 " Lord, don't talk about coming back already ! 
 Why, I've only just started. I'm happy enough wher- 
 ever I may be in the wide world ; none of your home- 
 sickness and that sort about me." 
 
 " Well, well, as long as you're not farther away, dear, 
 it's not so bad. Is your dinner all right ? " 
 
 " A trifle more pepper wouldn't hurt it." 
 
 " Oh, you always want such a lot, I know. Wait a 
 minute. I'll . . ." 
 
 " Thanks. But hurry up, you know, or I'll have 
 eaten it all before you get back." 
 
 " Yes, yes, dear. I'll stick the pepper-box up the trap- 
 door and you can take it yourself." 
 
 " Yes, that'll do. Only too pleased to help you laying 
 the table," says Si vert, all overflowing with kindhness. 
 
 That same day Emanuel was initiated into the secret 
 of Sivert's concealment. He found it a splendidly 
 romantic idea, and spent most of his time up in his 
 brother's cave. They arranged a code of signals ; when 
 the door of the stove was shut with a bang, Sivert would 
 creep down and bury himself deep under his pile of rags 
 —there was danger at hand. But when Emanuel 
 started playing " Sailors bold " on his comb-and-paper.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 55 
 
 it meant that the dreaded one was putting on his things 
 to go out, and Si vert might have hopes. Then, when 
 the tune changed to " Once more the woods are green," 
 the voluntary prisoner would come clambering down 
 the ladder, blinking at the light, with cobwebs in his 
 hair, but in the best of spirits, as also in his best of 
 clothes. He declared that he was going to continue 
 his travels thus for a hundred years or so. 
 
 " But I'm sure it's not good for you to be up there 
 doing nothing," said his mother anxiously. 
 
 " Oh, I've got a splendid constitution ; I can stand 
 it all right." 
 
 " If only you could use a needle and thread, 
 then . . ." 
 
 " Give me a couple of needles. That's just what I 
 was wanting. Never mind about the thread." 
 
 " Or suppose you practised writing a bit, with pen 
 and ink . . ." 
 
 " Yes, let me have some ink. You can keep the 
 pen." 
 
 " Oh, you silly ! Going to sew without thread and 
 write without a pen ? What are you up to now, I 
 wonder ? " 
 
 " Don't ask me. It's a matter connected with my 
 heart's love," says Si vert mysteriously. 
 
 " Ah, then I won't," said his mother, touched at the 
 thought. " After all, it's love that makes the world go 
 round. Here's the needles, dear. Now, I'll see and 
 get hold of some ink for you." 
 
 " What's it going to be for ? " asked Emanuel, when 
 they got back to the den once more. 
 
 " Patience, my son, and you'll grow wise. In two 
 days' time there's an inscription to be unveiled, and you 
 shall be in the front row if you're good."
 
 56 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 Never had Sivert been so wonderful a brother as now. 
 Emanuel only hoped the present exciting state of things 
 might last. 
 
 Two days later, Sivert began unbuttoning his coat 
 and vest solemnly, without a word. Emanuel stares at 
 him in wonder : What on earth is going to happen now ? 
 Then he pulls his shirt aside, and lo ! there on his chest 
 is a long and remarkable piece of tattooing. 
 
 Emanuel was beside himself with delight. 
 
 ** Read it ! " commanded Sivert. 
 
 " But — ^it's Hebrew or something. . . . What's it 
 supposed to mean ? " 
 
 " Mean ? Why, what it says ! Minna Lund — can't 
 you see ? " 
 
 " Minna Lund ? No, that I can't. It's — it's wrong, 
 somehow." 
 
 " D'you mean to say I can't spell ? " 
 
 " Why — why, of course . . . it's all backwards ! " 
 
 With trembling hand Sivert took out a small looking- 
 glass and examined the inscription. His sunken chest 
 made it easier for him to read in the glass. 
 
 " What are you talking about ? It's not backwards 
 at all." 
 
 " No, not in the glass, but when you look at it your- 
 self. You've written it looking-glass way ! " 
 
 " Wonderful ! " 
 
 " But what's the good of it that way ? " 
 
 Sivert pondered a moment, then he said : 
 
 " That way ? Why, what's the use of it any other 
 way, when it's all hidden under my shirt ? No, 
 you're supposed to see it from inside ! I can look through 
 my own delicate skin and read her lovely name the right 
 way round. Minna, it says, and Lund — Minna Lund. 
 You don't expect me to go showing everybody my own
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 57 
 
 beloved's name, do you ? Of course not ! Say no, 
 Emanuel, dear Emanuel, do ! " 
 
 Ah, but Sivert was a real hero — never a question but 
 was child's play to him. Besides being chock-full of 
 mysteries and stories. He lay there on his rag bed and 
 told stories in a whisper, the weirdest stories, crammed 
 with ghosts and corpses and things. Emanuel listened 
 breathlessly. 
 
 " And what then ? " he asked greedily, when Sivert 
 stopped to moisten his lips. 
 
 When it grew dark, Emanuel's face shone like a httle 
 white moon. All the uncanny things crept nearer. 
 And Sivert felt his power over the child's sensitive mind. 
 Just when it was time for Emanuel to go, however un- 
 willingly, he would say : 
 
 " If you step on anything soft, you'U know it's the 
 corpse of a woman I've got lying up here. Mind her 
 long hair doesn't trip you up ! " 
 
 Emanuel knew well enough that the corpse in ques- 
 tion was a piece of poetic exaggeration ; nevertheless, 
 his heart was thumping as he turned away, and he lifted 
 his feet with unusual care as he groped his way between 
 the piles of rubbish to the trap-door. 
 
 Those were days of wonder, golden days, for the 
 two brothers. 
 
 Not so, however, for their mother. Wonder enough, 
 perhaps, but nothing golden. 
 
 It was none so easy, in the long run, with this double 
 housekeeping, half of which had to be kept strictly 
 private and confidential. Sivert grew impatient and 
 irritable with his long confinement. He complained 
 about the food, and in particular insisted on meals being 
 served punctually to the minute, which made things 
 extremely awkward. And he had a means of enforcing
 
 58 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 his demands : he could threaten to he found out himself. 
 Just as she was going through with a dish for Egholm in 
 the parlour, Sivert would thrust an arm through the 
 trap-door and beckon. She answered by pointing to the 
 door : it was only right and reason that the master of 
 the house should be first served. But Sivert took an 
 empty plate and rattled it on the floor so audibly it was 
 a marvel his father did not hear. And the rattling would 
 continue until the first course was diverted into the 
 channel indicated. 
 
 Egholm's anger had not abated. He called on 
 his brain to find a solution of the problem. One 
 day he went himself to Bisserup's and bought a 
 moustache brush, in order to spy out the land, and 
 though he found there nothing beyond dirt and poverty, 
 the visit left him more intent on his plan than ever. 
 The moment he got back, he sent for Emanuel. 
 
 " Where do you get to all day, boy ? Do you ever 
 look at your lessons ? Seems to me you're always 
 running upstairs to the loft nowadays." 
 
 Emanuel screwed his eyes up triangle-wise, and 
 explained with a wavering smile that he had been up 
 there once or twice catching flies for his jackdaws. He 
 knew his lessons all right, yes. He was top of the class, 
 in fact. 
 
 " Good ! Mind you stay there, and don't let me see 
 you turn out a ne'er-do-well like your brother Sivert. 
 I've great hopes of you, when you grow up a bit. You've 
 all my wisdom and experience to inherit and put to use, 
 so you've something to look forward to." 
 
 Emanuel had but the vaguest idea as to what pre- 
 cisely was implied by " wisdom and experience," but 
 he was thankful to find his father so easy-tempered at 
 the moment.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 59 
 
 " And I'll declare unto you the innermost secrets of 
 religion, so you can make yourself rich and happy in no 
 time. The art of prayer, whereby a man can pin the 
 Lord down to His word so there's no escape — I'll teach 
 you that. How to get round and outflank Him un- 
 awares, aim one of His own texts at Him point-blank, 
 and ' Hands up ! '" 
 
 This last idea, with its savour of bushranging and 
 such-like exploits, appealed at once to the boy's imagina- 
 tion. He was accustomed to hearing his father deal with 
 the Scriptures as an inflexible code of law, but this was 
 more exciting still. 
 
 " Talking about fighting the Devil — it's a thousand 
 times more difficult to keep your end up when you're 
 fighting God Himself. You've got to get a grip of 
 Himself. Wrestle Him out of breath, till He gives in." 
 
 In Bible readings none excelled Emanuel. He laid 
 his head on one side, and his blue eyes gUttered as he 
 said : 
 
 " Jacob did that — wresthng with the Lord. But 
 then the Lord did something to one of his legs, and he 
 was lame." 
 
 " Exactly ! That's just what He's done to me, only, 
 unfortunately, it was before I'd got Him down. My 
 son, it is for you to avenge your father's defeat — in the 
 fullness of time. You're a bit young yet, of course. 
 Still, you might be some use in an ordinary tussle with 
 mortal things — yes, you could help me there. I dare say 
 you know what I'm thinking of now ? " 
 
 Emanuel had no idea. There was the boat, he knew, 
 that wanted scraping, but it was not a task he cared 
 about at all. He refrained from guessing that. 
 
 " Give it up, eh ? " said his father. " Well, it's 
 this business with Petrea. I've been wondering if you
 
 60 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 couldn't propose to her yourself — on Sivert's behalf, of 
 course. Then we should have her fixed up all right 
 when the rascal himself takes it into his head to come 
 back home. He's never stayed away very long before." 
 
 " It's so silly," protested Emanuel, blushing. 
 
 " Silly ? Not a bit of it. And I'm not asking you 
 to do it for nothing. Look here " — Egholm took out 
 his purse — " this, my son, is money. Twenty-five 0re. 
 We stick it up on the edge of this bracket, so. Right 
 at the edge. And if you manage the business, then we 
 can give it just the tiniest Hick, and down it comes into 
 your cap ! " 
 
 In the shadowy grey lobes of Emanuel's brain, 
 strange forces were at work. The part he was chosen 
 to play disgusted him. But the praise, as represented 
 by a 25-0re piece, attracted him exceedingly. It was 
 rarely his father praised him. And he felt hot all over 
 at the thought that his father really considered him 
 of use. 
 
 " All you need do is just to say so and so, you've got 
 a brother anxious to get married — no, better say en- 
 gaged — and he's chosen her, but he's afraid to pro- 
 pose himself, because he's half-witted. No, that won't 
 do, though. Better praise him up a bit. You're a 
 smart little beggar ; you know how to manage it. Look 
 at the money there, balancing just on the edge ..." 
 
 The pale, over-wise-looking child glanced up and 
 said, with a strange firmness in his delicate voice : 
 
 " Well, I suppose I'd better go, if nobody else will." 
 
 " That's the style, my son," said his father, pressing 
 the cap down on his head. 
 
 Thereupon Egholm went into his dark-room. But 
 he felt unable to work to-day. He fell to stalking up 
 and down the studio impatiently. Everything seemed
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 61 
 
 to be in his way. Now he thrust the " Castle Window " 
 aside, now he shifted the " Grecian Pillar." After a 
 while he stepped out into the garden, and stood looking 
 absently down into the lily bed. His glance wandered 
 farther, up and down. Ah, a couple of tiles worked 
 loose ; better see to that at once. 
 
 He slips round the corner, picks up a long, thin pole, 
 and tries to jab the tiles into place. 
 
 Then . . . Egholm all but fell insensible, as one of 
 the tiles moved slowly aside and Si vert's grimy face 
 and tousled hair appeared in the opening. 
 
 " Devil ! " he shouted. 
 
 " Yes," answered Si vert humbly. 
 
 "I'll drive you out ! Wrecking my house from 
 threshold to roof ! " He set the pole aslant against the 
 wall, stamped on it till it broke, and, snatching up the 
 shorter piece, rushed round into the house like one 
 possessed. 
 
 Sivert realised that he would be caught like a rat 
 in a trap. The imminent peril gave him unwonted 
 energy and wit. Just as his father was scrambling up 
 over the edge of the trap-door, Sivert burst bodily through 
 the roof itself, scattering the tiles like fragments of a 
 bursting shell. A moment later and he was sitting 
 astride of the roof-ridge. 
 
 His father shouted at him with strange words, and 
 waved the pole, but the shortened weapon would not 
 reach. Down he went again to fetch the ladder from 
 outside, and this time ran into his wife, who had come 
 to see what had happened. 
 
 " What are you doing now — what's happening ? " 
 she asked in a trembling voice. 
 
 " Traitor ! " cried Egholm, thrusting her aside. 
 
 But when Fru Egholm came out into the garden and
 
 62 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 found her first - born seated where only sparrow and 
 starling had been known to sit before, she turned giddy. 
 She ran after her husband, caught him by the arm, and 
 cried despairingly : 
 
 " Egholm, mark my words, if you kill the boy, you 
 kill me too ! " 
 
 " You wait and see what I'll do ! " said Egholm 
 bitterly, tugging at the ladder where it hung. 
 
 But Sivert the fugitive leaned back against the 
 chimney-pot, largely at ease, and thrilled with the 
 sweetness of his dehverance. He was out in the sun once 
 more. The dark and dusty refuge he had chosen had 
 grown unendurable of late. He knew, moreover, that 
 the ladder would not help matters much, so there was no 
 immediate peril. It was quite amu ing, really, to see 
 the pair of them down below quarrelling about him, 
 while he sat there, inaccessibly above them, and master 
 of his fate. 
 
 " Come up here and look at the view," he cried, with 
 a giggle. " It's grand." 
 
 The sun-heated tiles were lovely and warm ; he 
 could feel them through the seat of his trousers. He 
 settled himself in an ea>ier pose, combed his tangled hair 
 with splayed fingers, brushed off the white and dust 
 from his clothes here and there, and hailed again : 
 
 " Go and get the glasses, and if you see a greenish- 
 looking man high up in the sky, it's me. But you'd 
 better be quick before I get higher up still." Then, 
 after a pause, he added : 
 
 " If I'm not in to supper, you can send me something 
 to eat up here ! " 
 
 His father waved a threatening hand. 
 
 " You young devil — you shan't get out of this 
 alive ! "
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 63 
 
 " Shouldn't stand under the eaves," said Si vert, with 
 a grin. " Might come on to rain, you know." 
 
 Then a still more brilHant idea occurred to him. He 
 turned his hack on them. Forgot them, ignored them. 
 What were they to him ? He devoted himself instead to 
 attracting the attention of casual passers-by. 
 
 " Hey, Ditlev Pl0k, look up here while I've got my 
 feet off the ground, and see if my boots want soling. 
 Oh, they don't, don't they ? Well, they soon will, for I'm 
 going to dance with various young ladies from the fancy 
 drapery in the near future." 
 
 Ditlev Plok was an old friend, and Sivert treated 
 him as such. Wayfarers with whom he was not ac- 
 quainted, he greeted with a respectful bow, having first 
 drawn their attention to his perch by coughing loudly. 
 Now, here was a fine lady coming, in a white hat. 
 "Ahem ! " Sivert raised his hat straight above his head, 
 as if hoisting it on a flagstaff. The lady nodded, walked 
 on a few paces, then stopped, and regarded the house 
 intently. Sivert looked down abashed : it was Hedvig's 
 mistress. 
 
 " Is Egholm at home ? " she inquired. 
 
 " Eh ? " 
 
 " I want to see Kasper Egholm, if he's not too busy." 
 
 " You'll find him round by the black-currants. Just 
 round the corner — that way. I couldn't hear you at 
 first, being so high up. The sound only gets as far as 
 my knees, you know. Yes, you'll find him round the 
 corner. And he won't be busy, no, not at aU ! " 
 
 This last sentence Sivert himself found so amusing 
 that he almost rocked himself off the roof. His father 
 was most undeniably busy at the moment. His face 
 was flushed far up over his bald pate. Every time he 
 succeeded in getting the ladder up to the farthest point
 
 64 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 it would reach, his wife clutched at it and dragged it 
 down again with a crash. 
 
 " You dare do that once again," said Egholm, 
 breathless and almost beside himself, " and I'll . . ." 
 
 She dared. 
 
 Egholm looked round thoughtfully, cold-bloodedly. 
 He was looking for something — something important ; 
 he had had it a moment ago. Half of a broken pole . . . 
 ah, there it was ! 
 
 " You may strike me if you hke, but you shan't 
 touch the boy ! " said Fru Egholm, cHnging desperately 
 to the ladder, as if resolved to keep it down, if need be, 
 with her dead body. 
 
 Just at that moment some one came round the corner 
 of the house, not a yard away — a lady. 
 
 Egholm was seized with a strange confusion. His 
 hands trembled, as if it had been the Evil One himself 
 before him. He hardly saw what she was like at aU — 
 saw only that she lifted the strands of honeysuckle aside 
 with a daintily gloved hand. A strange customer to be 
 coming to his studio, he thought. He set his pole up 
 against the waU as carefully as if it had been a precious 
 piece of apparatus. " I can leave it here for the present," 
 he thought confusedly. Then, turning to his visitor, 
 with a bow and a smile, but keeping his eyes averted, he 
 said : 
 
 " This way, if you please. My studio is round 
 the corner here. I will be at your service in one 
 moment." 
 
 Fru van Haag understood his error, and purposely 
 allowed it to continue. She could have her photograph 
 taken and then go again — she had not announced herself 
 yet. Yes, that was the best thing to do. For it was 
 utterly impossible to make herself knowQ to this maii
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 65 
 
 and appear pleased at meeting him again His whole 
 appearance disgusted her. 
 
 She drew a deep breath, and walked on ahead of him 
 into the waiting-room. 
 
 " Brush and comb here, if you would Hke to arrange 
 your hair a httle," he said, pointing to some tilings under 
 the glass. Next moment he was aware of his tactless- 
 ness, and tried to laugh it off, but only made matters 
 worse, and, in his further confusion, caught his visitor 
 by the arm, drew her into the studio, pointed to a high- 
 backed chair, and disappeared. In a couple of seconds 
 he was back again, arranging the curtains, and shifting 
 the camera into place. 
 
 " Er — how would you wish to be taken?" he 
 inquired. " Half-length, or just the ordinary portrait ? 
 I forgot to ask. Er — as a matter of fact, they generally 
 leave it to me." 
 
 " Portrait, if you please." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I think that will be excellent." 
 
 Fru van Haag sat in her chair watching him as' he 
 fussed about and ducked down under the green cloth. 
 
 She felt only disgust, and deep, almost humiliating 
 disappointment at the sight of him. 
 
 Not a feature left, she thought, shaking her head. 
 Those frayed sleeves hanging loose and empty at the 
 wrists — why doesn't the man wear cuffs ? And his 
 nails — with a mourning edge . . . ugh ! He ought to 
 be ashamed. Even his head was deformed by the 
 loss of his hair. That expanse of shivering naked- 
 ness on top was perhaps the worst of all. And then a 
 fringe of ragged tufts, hke an old man, round the ears 
 and over his collar. . . . No, she could never forgive 
 Kasper Egholm for having grown as hateful to look on 
 as the fiend himself. She was incensed at this man for 
 5
 
 66 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 having stolen the name of one she had known as a hand- 
 some lad, and her friend. 
 
 Hedvig was right. 
 
 And that woman, his wife, was no downtrodden 
 specimen of the " ordinary." Fru van Haag could not 
 get out of her mind one Httle thing she had noticed as she 
 appeared without warning round the corner : Egholm's 
 little wife had been down on her knees, pleading with 
 uphfted hands. But the moment she caught sight of a 
 stranger, she had bent down and started weeding without 
 once looking up. It was enough to bring the tears to 
 one's eyes to think of it. 
 
 And so it came about that pity for Fru Egholm won 
 her to the thing her admiration for the Kasper Egholm 
 of the old days had failed to accomplish. Just as 
 Egholm had got his camera ready, and was casting a 
 last critical glance at her pose, she rose to her feet, walked 
 towards him, queenly proud, and said : 
 
 " I really only came to see you. I am Consul Steen's 
 daughter from Helsingor." 
 
 Egholm turned sickly pale, but he went on fumbling 
 with his apparatus, and said, without looking up : 
 
 " Consul Steen's daughter ! I am very greatly 
 honoured, I am sure. Yes — it is many years now. 
 Yes. . . . Er, if you would not mind facing a trifie 
 more that way . . . towards the door. ..." 
 
 Fru van Haag took a step farther towards him, and 
 said almost angrily : 
 
 " Really, you give me a strange reception, Kasper 
 Egholm. I send you a message, which you do not 
 answer, and now that I have come myself, you creep 
 in under your green cloth and won't even shake hands." 
 
 Egholm stammered with difficulty : 
 
 " I never got your message, and I did not see your
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 67 
 
 hand. What am I to say, when I'm wishing all the 
 time I were dead ? What brought you here just now ? 
 You could not have come at a worse time." 
 
 " You struck her ! " 
 
 " No. But I was just going to." 
 
 This remarkable frankness was disconcerting. 
 
 " But what on earth has she done ? " 
 
 Egholm felt his case a thought less hopeless now. 
 He was full of accusation against Anna. If he 
 could only get it all said, then. ... He explained that 
 she had been keeping Sivert in hiding — against his will 
 and knowledge. Stolen food for him all the time. And 
 now, just when he had discovered it all, she came be- 
 tween them — thrust herself between the culprit and the 
 punishment he deserved. 
 
 " Sivert ? That was the young man up on the roof, 
 then ? But what had he done ? " 
 
 Egholm was silent and dismayed. Here, face to 
 face with this woman from another world, he saw things 
 suddenly in a different light. All that had seemed 
 natural, a matter of course, before, was now ridiculous, 
 impossible. But he could not stand there speechless ; he 
 flung out one hand and began in a tense whisper to tell 
 of his money affairs, his difficulties, how he had thought 
 ". . . Petrea Bisserup, daughter of a wealthy brush- 
 maker. ..." But Sivert had upset all his plans for the 
 marriage by hiding himself away. " And now, with the 
 quarterly bills coming in . . ." 
 
 Fru van Haag felt herself overcome by a sort of 
 mental dizziness. As long as she merely hstened, 
 Egholm's story was simply amusing, fantastic and un- 
 natural as it was. But every time that she glanced at 
 the man himself, with his downcast eyes and desper- 
 ately fiuTowed brow, she reaUsed that he expected her
 
 68 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 to take it as bitter, tragic reality. In the end, she 
 forgot her anger and disgust. She grasped his arm, as if 
 to shake him back to his senses, and said, with unfeigned 
 astonishment : 
 
 " Kasper Egholm ! Are you altogether mad ? " 
 " I — I dare say I am," he said hesitatingly. He felt 
 himself at the moment as if he were awakening to some- 
 thing new.
 
 VI 
 
 IT is generally agreed that the best way of getting 
 properly into a story is to skip the commence- 
 ment. Fru van Haag and Egholm decided to do 
 so now. They sat here now, caUing up memories gay 
 and sad from the old days. Neither, apparently, had 
 any recollection of a howhng savage who had recently 
 been discovered brandishing a broken rafter over the head 
 of a woman on her knees. The woman herself had for- 
 gotten it. They had called her in, and she had shaken 
 hands with Hedvig's mistress, after wiping her own 
 hand many times on her apron. She had been working 
 in the garden, she explained, and her hands weren't fit 
 to be seen. Honoured and dehghted, she stood smihng, 
 and listened to the pair as they talked. 
 
 " Yes, it was a wonderful time," said Egholm. " The 
 air seemed different altogether. And people, too. No 
 poverty anywhere. Heavy silver things in every home. 
 Thoroughbred horses in the stables. The Consul him- 
 self never drove with more than a pair, but his brother- 
 in-law and several of the others always used four for 
 best carriages." 
 
 " And the dinner-parties ! " 
 
 " Yes — and the garden-parties most of all, I re- 
 member one especially, when the garden was ht up all 
 round with a hundred torches, flaming red and smoking." 
 
 " Yes, that was the time when the French warships 
 were there." 
 
 6g
 
 70 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " So it was, yes. Ah, that was a grand fete ! And 
 I'd helped to make the torches myself, but I had to stay 
 outside," 
 
 " Not all the time ! " 
 
 " Not all the time ? Did I come in, then ? Do you 
 remember anything about it ? " 
 
 " Wasn't there some one who asked you to come in 
 and gave you champagne ? " 
 
 " By the Chinese paviHon ? Was that then ? Oh, 
 you called to me in the dark. Seen me stealing round, 
 of course. And I remember you told Jespersen, the 
 grocery assistant, who was looking after the wine, to 
 pour me out a glass. His eyes went green with envy, 
 but he had to when you said." 
 
 " Two glasses. One for you and one for me." 
 
 " One for you and one for me — yes," said Egholm. 
 And for a moment he was lost in dreams that curved his 
 lips to a smile. Jomfru Clara — Clara Steen that was — did 
 she remember what came after ? How he had kissed her 
 hand, beside himself with joy, and she had let him, but 
 boxed his ears when he tried to draw her to him, and fled 
 across the lawn hke a fluttering moth. Oh, but it had 
 been a sorrowful ending. And there was more besides. 
 . . . He might perhaps venture to remind her of that. 
 
 " And your father found it out, and sent you over to 
 Sweden for months. It was Kammerjunkeren's son 
 that sneaked. I really believe he's the only creature 
 I've ever really hated. A lanky, dried-up slip of a 
 fellow." 
 
 Fru van Haag smiled strangely. 
 
 " You don't remember his name, then ? " 
 
 " No, I can't call it to mind. Wait a bit, though. 
 Wasn't it van der Velde ? " 
 
 " Not a bad guess. Van Haag was his name."
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 71 
 
 "Oh, Egholm ! " cried Fru Egholm, flushing with 
 shame. 
 
 But Fru van Haag whiried them both away with her 
 irresistible laugh, and then went on, refreshed. 
 
 " I can tell you one thing," said Egholm, " that you 
 never knew. I went to Sweden myself, to find you. It 
 was a hard winter that year, and the Sound was frozen 
 over. And I walked across one Sunday morning, and 
 did get a sight of you, through a Ughted window, late in 
 the afternoon. It wasn't much of a result, but I was 
 hugely pleased with it myself, and started back, and lost 
 my way on the ice, and got frost-bite in my feet. For 
 eight weeks I couldn't attend to my work in the shop. 
 The Consul was angry enough as it was. But if he'd 
 known what it was took me out over the ice that day, he 
 wouldn't have kept me as long as he did. And that 
 was only till next spring, when you came home." 
 
 " Poor Kasper Egholm," said Fru van Haag softly. 
 She would have said more, but checked herself. For 
 the first time during their talk she felt herself hampered 
 by the fact that Egholm's little wife stood there, leaning 
 her head over this way and that in her endeavour to take 
 part in something that she felt she could not share. 
 Now was the time for a tactful transition to the 
 present, with the two principal parties once more 
 firmly established as apart, each castled in their own 
 wedded life. 
 
 Egholm came to her aid, sajdng, with a sigh : 
 
 " But the golden days are gone. We left the mansion 
 of Consul Steen to go each our own way. You towards 
 the sun, and I into the night. And we travelled round 
 the world, to meet again in — Knarreby. You must 
 have lived like a princess all the time. Your shoes, your 
 silken dress have never been soiled by the dust of the
 
 72 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 road. And here am I, a bald, old, worn-out man, living 
 in a mud hut." 
 
 Fru van Haag said firmly : 
 
 " My dress is not silk at all. And as for calling your 
 house here a mud hut, I never heard of such a thing. 
 Fve walked down this road three times just to look at 
 the prettiest house in Knarreby. And then to find 
 the man who lives there grumbling at the place — you 
 ought to be ashamed of yourself ! " 
 
 Egholm felt a glow of pleasant warmth at her words. 
 Still, he tried again : 
 
 " There's no proper foundation to the place ; it's 
 just made of odd bits stuck together," 
 
 " You might say the same of yourself and me. But 
 we're not expected to live for ever, are we ? Or take 
 our houses with us when we die ? It's a house out of a 
 fairy tale ! " 
 
 Egholm's delight flamed up rich and red at this. 
 Here was his most secret thought uttered casually, as a 
 matter of course, by this proud, beautiful woman, the 
 love of his youth. All the scornful taunts that had been 
 thrown at him by his fellows were flung back in their 
 faces now. The prettiest house in Knarreby stood there, 
 white and foliage-crowned, as he had dreamed. 
 
 He reached out bhndly for her hand, but collided 
 with his wife's, on the same errand. And Fru van Haag 
 gave him her left with a smile. That, too, was a good, 
 strong hand to hold. 
 
 Anna Egholm murmured something vaguely : 
 Heavens, had she been standing all this time and never 
 so much as asked what Fruen would take ? A little 
 Syltetoj,^ now . . . 
 
 Just as she left the room, Emanuel came rushing in 
 
 1 Preserved fruit.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 73 
 
 from the waiting-room. Looking neither to right nor 
 left, he rushed up to his father's table, jumped on a chair, 
 and slapped at the bracket ; the 25 0re fell into the 
 cap he held in the other hand. 
 
 " It's mine now ! " he said, with a smile and a firm 
 little nod. Then his expression changed to one of 
 hesitation and shyness on seeing there was a visitor. 
 
 " Go and say Goddag to the finest and loveliest lady 
 in the world," said his father. 
 
 Fru van Haag kept the boy's little slender hand in 
 hers, and looked at him with a smile full of kindly 
 warmth. 
 
 " Was it your money ? " she asked. 
 
 " No, not before. I was to have it when I came 
 back." 
 
 " So you've been out on an errand for father ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Emanuel sought his father's eye, but Egholm was 
 looking straight ahead. Then it occurred to the lad that 
 it would be a fine thing to appear as a hero in the sight 
 of the finest and loveliest lady in the world — his father 
 had called her so, and he had no doubt of it himself. 
 With evident pride, he went on, " I've been out pro- 
 posing to the ugliest girl you ever saw." 
 
 " Good heavens, child ! — proposing ? What do you 
 mean ? " 
 
 " Why, you see, Si vert didn't dare to, so father 
 said . . ." 
 
 Egholm would have preferred to conceal Emanuel's 
 intervention in the matter of Si vert's intended. 
 Already Fru van Haag had asked him with insistent 
 earnestness if he were mad. Would she now ask the 
 same question again ? To save the situation as far as 
 possible, he put in now :.
 
 74 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " You little stupid, Fruen will think you were asking 
 on your own account. It was for Si vert, you know that 
 quite weU. Why don't you say so ? " 
 
 Emanuel was abashed at finding himself thus cor- 
 rected. But Fru van Haag gave never a thought to the 
 question of sanity. Such a delightful piece of absurdity 
 could never have occurred at the Kgl. Toldbod that was 
 her home. Nor had she ever in any place met with folk 
 who brought up such extravagant ideas in perfect serious- 
 ness. She felt like jumping up and embracing this dila- 
 pidated, bald-headed man, out of sheer gratitude at 
 finding anything so deliciously unconventional. She 
 restrained herself, but took the boy on her lap, and com- 
 manded him to tell her the whole story from beginning 
 to end. Emanuel needed no pressing. Without 
 laughter, without claiming any complicity, he stood 
 before her, eager only to relate as clearly and distinctly 
 as he could. His innocence was complete. His pure 
 childish breath fanned her cheek as he leaned forward 
 to examine her brooch that had caught his eye. 
 
 Petrea's mother had made her assent conditional on 
 Sivert's supporting her as well. 
 
 Egholm seemed httle affected by the story. What 
 did the maddest dreams matter, now that he was 
 awake ? 
 
 Fru van Haag sat stroking Emanuel's hair. 
 
 Fru Egholm came in, bringing Sylietoj of various kinds 
 on little plates. There was some gooseberry jelly that 
 was only a year or two younger than Emanuel, and be- 
 sides — a dehcacy hardly to be found elsewhere, even at 
 Etatsraaden' s ^ — preserved wild strawberries. Fru van 
 Haag was dehghted, and Anna was overjoyed at her 
 
 ^ Etatsraad : a title literally "Councillor of State." Here, of 
 course, in<licating the most distinguished personage in the town.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 75 
 
 praise ; the unwonted appreciation gave her confidence 
 to speak out. 
 
 " Did you ever hear of such tomfoolery, sending a 
 child on such an errand ? " 
 
 Fru van Haag laughed. " But what is the poor man 
 to do, when Hr. Sivert is afraid to go ? " 
 
 " Well, he might go himself, or send me." 
 
 " Yes, you'd be a nice one to send," put in Egholm. 
 " After pulling the ladder away just when I'd . . ." 
 
 " We'll forget all about that, if you please," said 
 Fruen firmly. 
 
 " Yes. Yes, of course," said Egholm hurriedly. 
 
 " But when Sivert comes back again, you'll be just 
 as wild as ever." 
 
 " Don't be too sure of that." 
 
 Fru van Haag saw how to manage it. Ah, but she 
 was in her element now. Here was something to arrange, 
 something that could be settled as she willed, not like the 
 trimly ordered hedges of straight-clipped box in the 
 Toldbod's prim little garden. 
 
 " Couldn't we have Sivert in now ? I should like to 
 meet him." 
 
 " Well, if we could only get hold of him, but . . ." 
 
 " Why, isn't he up in the loft, then ? " asked Emanuel 
 incautiously. He had been wondering what it was all 
 about. 
 
 " Ho, so you knew all about it, too, you young rascal ? 
 No, he's broken half the roof down and run away." 
 
 " Then he'll be under the old boat. He said if . . ." 
 
 " Go and fetch him," commanded Fru van Haag. 
 
 Five minutes later Emanuel returned. He had left 
 the kitchen door open as he came in ; outside stood 
 Sivert, clearing his throat and pulling at his thin, white 
 moustache.
 
 76 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " Come inside, you ! " 
 
 And Sivert entered, straining every muscle in an 
 attempt at dignity of carriage. His lips were com- 
 pressed, his brow was sternly furrowed, but with all this 
 he did not look impressive. The green suit had suffered 
 considerably from having been worn day and night for 
 several weeks. Without looking up, he walked as if led 
 by some instinct straight towards Fru van Haag, and 
 doubled himself up in a deep obeisance, nearly upsetting 
 his balance in the process. 
 
 " Fruen wishes me to spare your life," said his father. 
 
 " I am deeply grateful for that," said Sivert, with 
 stark solemnity. 
 
 " You don't know, I suppose, who this lady is ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do. And it's quite true what Emanuel said." 
 
 " What did Emanuel say ? " 
 
 " ' Sitting there just like a duchess ! ' " 
 
 " Really," said Fru van Haag, flushing a little. " Then 
 I suppose I ought to behave as such. Now, then ; each 
 of you wish for something, please, and Fll try to fulfil 
 it. Not too grand, if you please ; my duchy, Fm 
 afraid, is only a modest one. You first, Little Mother — 
 what would you like ? " 
 
 But Anna cannot think of anything to wish for. No, 
 not a single thing . . . unless, perhaps, if Fruen could 
 give them many such happy days as this. . . . 
 
 " Granted at once," says Fruen, stroking the little 
 woman's cheek. "And Kasper Egholm, I suppose, would 
 like a little Herregaard ? " ^ 
 
 " Or a big one ! " 
 
 " That will have to wait awhile, Fm afraid. But 
 is there nothing else we could manage on the spot ? " 
 
 But no ; Egholm's imagination is so excited by the 
 
 1 Herregaard : a country mansion.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 77 
 
 one idea that, now she has mentioned it, he can think of 
 nothing else. He feels he lacks but one thing in the 
 world now — a country mansion. Fruen passes on to the 
 next, which is Si vert. Si vert makes his peculiar bow 
 once more, and, holding out one open hand, demands : 
 
 " Go to America ! " 
 
 As if he expected the stranger lady to write some 
 charm then and there upon his palm that should make 
 him an American. Perhaps the best solution, after all, 
 thought Fruen to herself, and revised her opinion of the 
 white-headed mannildn at once. 
 
 " You shall, then 1 " she declares, and presses his 
 expectant hand. 
 
 Emanuel blushed ; it was his turn now. And 
 without waiting to be asked, he burst out with his wish : 
 
 " I'd Hke to be a priest ! " 
 
 " What terribly difficult things you all want," said 
 Fruen sternly. But as Emanuel bowed his head and 
 blushed hotter still, she went on, with a smile : 
 
 " There, there ; we'll manage it all right for you, 
 too ! " 
 
 A Httle later, Fru van Haag rose to go. Egholm and 
 his wife went with her across the " bridge," each being 
 graciously accorded one of her hands, which they guarded 
 as long as possible. It was as if the story of their life 
 had turned suddenly to a new and wonderful chapter, 
 in which every one lived happily ever after. Fru van 
 Haag had a kindred feeling herself ; as if she were a 
 poet, and had at last got to work upon something 
 original. 
 
 Hedvig would marvel when she heard how the visit 
 had turned out. And she should not be left out ; she 
 should have her wish as well as the others. There could 
 be little doubt about what she would choose : a man
 
 78 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 with a big hat and a vioHn. And she should have him, 
 too, as sure as Clara van Haag could help her. For that 
 same Clara had learnt of life that lovers should be helped 
 to win each other. 
 
 Walking thus occupied with her plans, she reaUsed 
 suddenly that she herself was filled with a sense of pleasure 
 and well-being. She had not felt hke this for years. 
 And then, too, how the spring had suddenly come floating 
 down from heaven these last few days ! Hedges and 
 gardens were scented already, even the grass itself. The 
 woods were bright with greenery, the clouds above them 
 gleaming white ; even the waters of the Belt seemed 
 fresher as they flowed and flowed. 
 
 Clara van Haag threw back her head, proudly 
 feeling the weight of her rich chestnut hair, rejoicing 
 to feel herself still young and strong. Here she was, 
 walking with Ught step over the stones of Brogade. 
 Entering happily into the house she had cleansed and 
 aired. . . . True, there was still that Uving corpse sitting 
 now, no doubt, in a comer of one of the rooms. 
 
 Never mind. There would be Hedvig in the kitchen — 
 Hedvig with her eyes of crocus-blue. There — she was 
 singing. Singing that eternal fragment of Malle Duse's. 
 Ah, well, she and Hedvig would sing that corpse back 
 into its grave again !
 
 VII 
 
 FRU VAN HAAG guessed right : Hedvig wished for 
 Johan Fors to come again, by day or by night, 
 with his vioUn. She would not send him away 
 again. But he did not come. He seemed to have 
 disappeared altogether. When Hedvig had to go out 
 buying cakes, she would put on her new hat and walk 
 through Knarregade, Algade, and Sondergade, three 
 whole streets. She might have made do with one, and 
 that without a hat, for the baker's was only just round 
 the corner. But Hedvig felt she could not ; for in 
 S0ndergade there was a painter's. The door to the 
 workshop stood open ; Hedvig turned her head for a 
 quick glance. Alas ! there was no one there save the 
 master, varnishing away at a dismal oak coffin. 
 
 Hedvig then discovered that, with all the painting 
 and cleaning, they had forgotten the kitchen cupboards. 
 And they needed doing badly, she explained. 
 
 " Oh, if you don't mind having all the mess about the 
 place," said Fruen, "get it done, by all means. You 
 can look in at the painter's and tell them to come." 
 
 " Wouldn't it be better if Fruen gave the order 
 herself — any time Fruen happened to be that way ? " 
 
 Hedvig thought it would look better that way. 
 
 Next day arrived a lad with pots and brushes. Hedvig 
 looked at him with no small disdain, as a creature obvi- 
 ously useless for anything beyond painting. She did 
 condescend so far as to ask him : 
 
 79
 
 80 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " Where's the man you had ? Gone away ? " 
 
 " Which one ? Johan Fors ? " 
 
 " Who else should I mean ? " said Hedvig carelessly. 
 But the sound of the name had struck her, and she 
 flushed. 
 
 " He's working at a Herregaard a httle way out — 
 Lundgaard, I think." 
 
 Now Hedvig would have given much to know if 
 Johan went home every evening after his work, or what. 
 But she could hardly ask. Instead, she went on : 
 
 " Isn't he the one that plays ? " 
 
 " Play ? I should think he can ! And heaps of 
 things besides," said the boy, looking up with eyes 
 ahght with admiration. 
 
 Whereupon Hedvig refreshed that painter boy with 
 coffee and cakes. In the evening, by some secret means, 
 she obtained leave to go out at seven, and walked dream- 
 ing through the woods towards Lundgaard. Who could 
 say . . . ? She sat down on a white bench where two 
 roads met. Both led to Lundgaard, but involuntarily 
 she decided that Johan must come by the broader, 
 level main road. So she faced that way. Again and 
 again she tried to fix her eyes on the dancing anemones 
 or up towards the light green tops of the beeches ; a 
 second after she was gazing once more along the curve 
 of the road, where soon she began to fancy all manner 
 of fantastic shapes. But none of them materialised into 
 the Hving Johan Fors. She drummed on her white front 
 teeth, and felt annoyed with herself at having thus to run 
 with open arms to one who had paid her special attention 
 in playing for her — one who had been not a Uttle eager 
 to come to her. But what did that matter after all, as 
 long as it came all right in the end ? And if she asked 
 his pardon in so many words, then . . . Hedvig's eyes
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 81 
 
 blinked with delicious tears. Yes, she would humble 
 herself to him, though not to any other on earth. 
 
 Who was that coming . . . ? Alas, no ! only two 
 trees crossing as she moved her body. Ugh, her neck 
 was getting stiff. But — there he was ! No, only a gnat 
 in front of her nose. 
 
 Should she say " Du" or " De" to him ? He had 
 said Du without ceremony that night. If only she had 
 accepted him, and let him play — what if it had set the 
 Toldbod in an uproar. Fruen would surely have for- 
 given her when she heard how it was. 
 
 Now, as soon as he came in sight round the bend, she 
 would get up and go to meet him. Not beg his pardon, 
 of course, not that way. Not with her hps — not at all. 
 She would laugh slantwise — so. Don't let's be stupid, 
 Johan ; surely we're too good friends to waste time 
 quarrelUng about nothing ! 
 
 Hedvig rose to her feet and held a Httle final rehearsal 
 of the smile and the fling of her head that were to express 
 all this. 
 
 " Goddag, Johan Fors " — it would hardly do to call 
 him just " Johan " — and then stop still in front of him 
 — so ! A couple of yards away. Now, try if you can 
 get past ! 
 
 Just then there came a sHght sound, which Hedvig 
 took to be the rusthng of leaves, and gave no further 
 heed. But as she stood there, laughing and play-acting 
 in front of her imaginary Johan, Johan himself, aUve 
 and in reahty, shot by on his cycle, coming from the 
 narrow side-road. Hedvig turned, just in time to catch 
 his eyes as he passed. Overwhelmed with shame, she 
 Uterally collapsed. Had he nodded or not ? He could 
 not raise his big hat anyway, for that was already flutter- 
 ing in his left hand, which held it together with the 
 6
 
 82 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 handlebar. Yes, liis strong face had certainly bright- 
 ened as he passed. But he had to avoid a deep rut just 
 at that moment, so he couldn't make much of it. 
 
 Hedvig stepped out into the middle of the road and 
 looked after him. His yellow mane streamed back from 
 his head Hke the feathered head-dress of an Indian 
 chief. 
 
 But suppose that smile of his had meant something 
 quite different, after all ? — suppose he had realised that 
 she was standing there showing off on purpose ? If not, 
 why had he not stopped ? 
 
 Hedvig walked disconsolately farther into the wood. 
 The flowers seemed to lose their colour, the green of the 
 beeches was dulled. And it was not because the sun was 
 setting — not only that. 
 
 She walked on, careless of time and place, till she 
 reached a slope overgrown with high bracken. A couple 
 of partridges rose with a terrifying whirrrr. Hedvig 
 looked round, and realised that she had lost her way. 
 Ahead of her was a forbidding depth of pines ; black 
 night itself was prisoned there, hke a wild beast in its 
 cage. Now and again came a sound, as of heavy breath- 
 ing, almost even a snarl. But she would not turn back. 
 She dived forward into the dark, the fallen needles 
 underfoot deadening all sound save the whisper of her 
 dress. 
 
 There was a moment when the horror of the silent 
 forest overcame her ; she felt a dreadful death was lying 
 in wait. She started to run. The branches snatched 
 and tore at her \vith their stiff, bony fingers. The whole 
 thing lasted hardly a minute. 
 
 " If I die, I shall never see him again," she thought. 
 And the idea filled her with an indomitable desire of life. 
 She would at least stay on the same earth with him.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 83 
 
 And in a moment she was herself again. The sound 
 she had heard — it must be the waves ! In a minute or 
 two she would come out on the shore — then it would be 
 easy to find the way. 
 
 " It was you that helped me," thought Hedvig to 
 herself as she reached the open strand. A httle grey 
 Hght still remained of the day ; there was even a touch 
 of red in the west, where the sun had gone down. 
 
 This is a reHef, but her legs still tremble under her 
 a little. And she has no strength left with which to 
 meet a new shock to her nerves. 
 
 It comes in the shape of a vague black something 
 a little distance off as she rounds a sloping bank. Some- 
 thing ahve, rocking backwards and forwards in an un- 
 canny, inexpUcable fashion — something big and alive — 
 a beast of some sort, or a human being. . . . 
 
 Hedvig comes to a standstill — her feet refuse to carry 
 her farther. 
 
 The figure ahead towers higher now in the dark, turns 
 towards her with a gleam of something white — a face 
 . . . and utters a roar, a cry . . . 
 
 Hedvig makes no sound, but her eyes grow wider 
 and her mouth hangs open. 
 
 " Who is there ? " 
 
 And suddenly she realises that it is her father. 
 She draws a deep breath between chattering teeth, and 
 moves as if to pass by without a word. 
 
 " Who's that, I say ? Why, what on earth . . . 
 You, Hedvig ? " 
 
 Hedvig marked how her father's voice changed from 
 fear and fury to something like relief ; she could not help 
 turning and stopping. 
 
 " But — what on earth are you doing here ? " 
 
 She was about to say she had lost her way. But her
 
 84 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 father evidently cared nothing for any answer ; he went 
 on, coming up close to her now : 
 
 " Wait for me a minute, and we'll go together. Yes, 
 do. There's no sense in going on being enemies. Come 
 back with me just a few steps and I'll show you some- 
 thing. I feel I simply can't be angry with anyone now 
 I've seen her — your mistress, I mean. Only fancy, she's 
 just the same — the very same as when she was a child, 
 or a young girl. . . ." 
 
 He gripped her by the arm and said, with eager feeling : 
 
 "Enviable creature! You — you have her near 
 you every blessed day ! " 
 
 Hedvig fixed her eyes on her father, but he simply 
 stood there shaking his head in a sort of ecstasy ; she 
 could not read his face in the dark. 
 
 " What was it you were going to show me ? " 
 
 " Ah yes, I forgot. Come here." 
 
 He drew her across to a point where the edge of the 
 bank was drawn out into a kind of promontory ; in day- 
 light there would be a wide view to either side. She 
 followed him, nervously and reluctantly, a few steps up ; 
 then he bent down, felt on the ground with one hand, 
 and said : 
 
 " What do you think this is ? " 
 
 " I can't see . . ." 
 
 " Bend down, then." 
 
 She did so, and saw that the earth had been dug up 
 as in a series of long beds one above the other. It looked 
 exactly like a doll's garden such as children make. 
 Here and there little white stones were to be seen, 
 further reminding her of childish decorations. She 
 imagined that this queer father of hers had in a moment 
 of weakness revealed a new phase of his madness ; that 
 he really came out here in the woods and played at
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 85 
 
 gardens by himself. She grew angry at the thought, 
 but dared say no more than : 
 
 " Well, I don't know what it means, I'm sure." 
 
 Then said Egholm : 
 
 " This, Hedvig, is my place of sacrifice. Here I 
 have prayed and sacrificed to God every single day, 
 almost from the time I came to the town. Every day 
 the same, whether in rain or wind, summer or winter. 
 Here I have knelt many a Christmas Eve. Here I have 
 suffered and striven. And each time, I have offered up 
 a sacrifice to God — these little white, smooth stones. 
 Stones are as precious in His eyes as gold. Nine smooth 
 stones at least every time. Here they are, lying in rows 
 up the slope. Look at them — loads and loads of them. 
 Twenty or thirty thousand stones." 
 
 Hedvig was touched. Here was her father talking 
 so kindly, showing her with a sort of modest pride the 
 results of his work. Herregud, such pains he had taken 
 over it, and for all that he stood there in his wretched 
 clothes, hat in hand, like any humble mendicant. But 
 it was only for a moment. She crushed the rising 
 pity firmly back. Years and years of humbug ! Thirty 
 thousand pebbles stuck into the ground one by one. 
 No, they had not softened the heart of God — they 
 should not soften hers ! 
 
 " And what have you got out of it all in the end? " 
 she asked harshly. 
 
 " Fru van Haag has come ! " he answered. And 
 Hedvig saw how his face turned heavenward as he spoke. 
 
 " Did you pray for her, then ? " 
 
 " No, never ! Nothing of all that I prayed for has 
 ever been fulfilled, but since God has granted me this 
 great joy, it shows He must have appreciated my good 
 will. And from now onwards, I shall pray no more.
 
 86 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 Only give thanks and make thank-offerings. He knows 
 much better what is best for me. You see, it will all 
 come right now that she is here." 
 
 They walked on together into the town. Egholm 
 stepped as confidently in the dark as by day ; he had 
 trodden the path a thousand times. When they passed 
 a streamlet, he reached out a hand to help her. This 
 was a change, indeed ! Haha ! perhaps he was in love ! 
 
 As if reading her thought, Egholm answered the 
 question in her mind at once. 
 
 " I look on her as a saint — yes, a saint. And I be- 
 lieve she can work miracles. ' Wish ! ' she said. And 
 I wished for a country house. And you see I shall get 
 it!" 
 
 Hedvig may have smiled a little at this. But she, 
 too, looked up to her mistress with unbounded admiration. 
 
 Her father walked with her as far as the Toldbod. 
 This was the first time they had ever spoken together 
 as two human beings. 
 
 " Good-bye," he said, and stood watching her as she 
 went in. 
 
 Once on the stairs, Hedvig fell back to her own 
 gloomy thoughts once more. She seemed to understand 
 now that every one else might be happy — every one but 
 she herself. When she reached her room, she threw 
 herself down on the bed in tears. Then she heard a 
 light step in the passage outside. 
 
 " Hedvig — just a minute. It's me." 
 
 It was Fruen's voice. Hedvig opened the door. 
 
 " Matches — have you a box of matches ? I Hke to 
 have them ready, in case . . . No, Hedvig, I'm telUng 
 stories. The matches were there all right — I hid them 
 under my pillow. I'm waiting for him to go to bed. 
 He's such a sight when he's undressing. And it always
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 87 
 
 takes him half an hour. I've never got used to it yet, 
 though I've been married all these years. He's dreadful 
 without his collar, and worse still without his trousers. . . . 
 Oh, I ought not to talk like this to you, child. But when 
 he goes over to the washstand — as if it were the most 
 natural thing in the world . . . Hedvig, may I sit here 
 just for twenty minutes ? Where have you been all 
 the evening, child ? Out with your hig man with the 
 hat ? Let me see if you look happy. But, good heavens, 
 child ! . . . Crying . . . ? " 
 
 Then Hedvig told her all about Johan. Fruen was 
 in her nightdress ; she crept up into Hedvig's bed and 
 Hstened without a word. The light of a lantern out on 
 the quay found its way to her great brilliant eyes. Then, 
 when Hedvig had ceased, she said calmly and decisively : 
 
 " He shaU be your sweetheart." 
 
 " But how ? " asked Hedvig simply. 
 
 " He will come of his own accord, and then you 
 simply say no ! That's the way." 
 
 " But— but that's what I did last time." 
 
 " Ah, but next time he'll take you in spite of your 
 no ! — that is, if he's the man we think he is." 
 
 " Shall I run after him, then ... I mean ..." 
 
 " Not a step ! " 
 
 Hedvig felt relieved. The light from the quay 
 shone on her white teeth. She told of her meeting with 
 her father in the grey of the wood ; of his sacrificial 
 grove. And she repeated his words about her mistress 
 — a saint that could work miracles, and would get him 
 his wish as she had said. . . . 
 
 " Oh . . . did he say that ? " murmured Fru van Haag 
 softly. And the lantern rays gathered in a single gUtter- 
 ing drop that sUpped down over her right cheek. A 
 little after she rose to her feet, and said :
 
 88 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " I've been such a useless wretch. And now, here 
 in Knarreby, to rise beyond all I've ever been before. 
 First a duchess, then a saint. But, as true as there's 
 blood in my veins, I'll be something, do something, for 
 you all! " 
 
 Fru van Haag went back to her room, and sUpped 
 silently into bed. Her husband lay there close by, 
 wearing the apparatus he had bought in Berlin to keep 
 his moustache in place. His hands were folded piously 
 in front of him on the clothes, as it might be an old 
 woman. She could not help laughing — and it struck 
 her suddenly that she had never laughed before — not at 
 him. 
 
 But — why not look at him like that ? 
 
 And in a little while she was busy with bright thoughts 
 undisturbed. 
 
 A country mansion — Holy orders — a passage to 
 America — and a painter man with a big hat. ... It was 
 not so easy to manage it all, but . . .
 
 VIII 
 
 Two months passed. Generally speaking, Httle 
 happens in Knarreby in two months. But the 
 rule has been set aside since Fru van Haag came 
 to the place. Scarcely a day but she herself does some- 
 thing new and remarkable. 
 
 Yesterday she stopped a runaway horse. To-morrow 
 she is going to a christening at — no, not Etatsraaden's, 
 but — the lamplighter's. What she will do to-day. 
 Heaven only knows. See, here she comes, walking 
 along — dancing along, one might be tempted to say — 
 down the street, dressed without any particular smart- 
 ness. Not even gloves on, no going-out things at all, 
 beyond her big white hat. 
 
 Now she stops outside the " Fancy Drapery Estab- 
 lishment," as Lund the draper loves to call his shop. 
 The window displays three mantles hung on stands. 
 Fruen casts a casual glance at them. 
 
 But little Lund buzzes round inside like a frantic 
 bluebottle behind the window. 
 
 Heavens ahve ! If only he could get her for a 
 customer ! 
 
 He rushes to the desk, and next moment Fru van 
 Haag sees his httle podgy hand steahng in from behind 
 among the mantles, pinning a ticket on the ugliest : 
 
 " Latest fashion. 
 
 Reduced Price : Kr. 52.97." 
 
 89
 
 so THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 Fruen raises her eyebrows and walks on. But Lund 
 dashes out on to the steps and hails her breezily : 
 
 " Lovely day ! " 
 
 She turns her head and looks him up and down, 
 reducing him to the Umpness of a rag. But for all his 
 inward abasement, he manages to sustain an outward 
 smile. 
 
 " Lovely day ! " he says again, thinking to himself : 
 Never mind. At any rate, she's stopped. 
 
 " I noticed," he goes on, " that Fruen was looking 
 at my windows. I fancied, indeed, with some shght 
 interest. As a business man, you know — practised eye 
 — spot that sort of thing at once. Now, if Fruen would 
 like to have a look round the stock ? Fve heaps of things 
 besides those in the window. Heaps. The brown one 
 there, now, next to the one you were looking at — I would 
 let that go for 42.82." 
 
 " No, thanks. I don't think . . ." 
 
 " Oh, I wasn't pressing — wouldn't think of it. Only 
 too deUghted to have people look at my things. People 
 of taste, that is. People who know what's chic. And 
 there aren't many of that sort in Knarreby, hehe ! " 
 
 Fruen hesitated ; she felt to-day she could not bear 
 to hurt the meanest worm. And Lund's eager little 
 business eye discerned it ; he needed only to step aside 
 and say, " Veers' god, veers' god ! " ^ And with a sigh Fni 
 van Haag entered in. 
 
 " I ought to mention, we've just got the new season's 
 things in. Some first-rate things in full-length coats, 
 for instance. All prices. That one there on the 
 left, now ; only 45. The one you were looking at, 
 of course, is the finest — the acme of taste, chic and 
 
 ^ Vcersaagod : answers approximately to "Allow me" or " Please 
 to . . •" Used also when offering or handing anything.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 91 
 
 fashionable— the sort of thing they wear in Copen- 
 hagen." 
 
 Lund made a leap and snatched the chic and fashion- 
 able thing through the window, thrusting it then with 
 eagerness towards his patron in spe. 
 
 "Well, no, to tell the truth, I don't really care 
 about it." 
 
 Lund was shocked. His face turned suddenly 
 serious, and he stepped back a pace as if to see what 
 possible objection anyone could have to that. Surely 
 nothing had been spared to make it as chic and fashion- 
 able and acme-of-tasteful as could be ? The very 
 architecture of the thing was turned and twisted accord- 
 ing to the demands of the leading fashion journals, and 
 as for the trimming — it bordered on extravagance. 
 Collar and pockets and sleeves were set with buttons 
 in rows as close as on the cards in his drawer ; here and 
 there were tassels danghng. No, really, it was unreason- 
 able — but there was no end to what some people ex- 
 pected for their Kr. 52.97. Lund cast a lover's glance 
 at the Httle triangular sUp of magenta-coloured silk at 
 the points of the collar on either side. Hadn't she 
 noticed those ? And then the ornamental work — in 
 gold and silver and peacock — surely . . . 
 
 " The postmaster's lady herself was looking at that 
 very one, and said it was charming," said Lund, watch- 
 ing to see what effect this announcement would make. 
 What ? None at all ? Very strange. ... He went on : 
 " And very reasonable, too, she thought." 
 " Yes, yes, very reasonable, no doubt." 
 " But perhaps it's the shape you don't care for ? " 
 " The shape — yes — no, I don't care much for that 
 shape. But I think you said you had some others ? 
 One can't like everything, you know."
 
 92 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " Let me get the two others from the window. ..." 
 
 " No, thank you, really. I saw them from outside." 
 
 Lund was inwardly furious by now. Save for those 
 three, his stock consisted only of the same everlasting 
 uniform ugUness that country people preferred. The 
 three on show represented his selection for the town, 
 and here was this impertinent minx from Heaven-knows- 
 where turning up her nose at them all ! What did she 
 know of chic fashions and taste ? He'd teach her a 
 lesson ! And as if to himself, he went on : 
 
 " Oh, they're not wearing that sort of thing now 
 with the straight front. Full bosom, that's all the rage 
 now. And short jackets, too — they're done with long 
 ago. Half-length it is now." 
 
 Fru van Haag's expression changed shghtly. She 
 realised that this Httle man had formed in his mind a 
 correct picture of that short, white jacket of hers — and 
 now she came to think of it, she had bought that jacket 
 over a year ago, in Brussels. 
 
 Lund marked the look in her eyes, and, nodding to 
 himself, returned to the attack. 
 
 " No, never see that sort of thing nowadays. 'Tisn't 
 worn in Copenhagen — or anywhere else. The traveller 
 told me himself — H. P. Sorensen, it was — I don't know 
 if you know him ? No ? Well, he told me. * Yes,' 
 he said, ' I know you, Lund ; you always want the best 
 and smartest that's going.' That's what he said. He 
 always says so. Oh, he knows me, does Sorensen. 
 And between you and me, Fru Haag — Fru van Haag, 
 I mean, beg pardon — I was thinking of you when I picked 
 out that one there. You'll have the smartest coat in 
 the place ; there's not another Uke it in the town. I 
 say 50.95, to you. You've a charming figure, Fru van 
 Haag. It would be a credit to the business."
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 93 
 
 Womanlike, Clara had long since forgotten how and 
 why she had come into the shop. Here she was, in a 
 shop, and she felt it her duty to buy something. 
 
 " But really, I couldn't take that dreadful thing 
 there." 
 
 Lund was gentleness and subservience itself now ; 
 he felt he was gaining the day. 
 
 " No consequence at all," he said. " Don't mention 
 it. We'll pick out another from the catalogue. I've 
 a whole stock of coats, as I said, just through at the back 
 here. Serensen, he knows where to send his things. 
 But — well, they're not properly unpacked yet, and 
 hardly the thing for you, anyway. I can't understand 
 you don't care about this one here, though — with all 
 that lovely trimming — why, it's marvellous value. 
 The trimmings alone must come to eight or nine Kroner 
 to begin with. The postmaster's lady, she was charmed 
 with it, as I said. Ordered one in the same style on 
 the spot. . . ." 
 
 " Fru Weisz ordered one ? " 
 
 " Yes, I'm expecting it by to-morrow's boat. She 
 wanted it a couple of inches wider in the body — 
 not having your slenderness about the corset, Fru 
 Haag." 
 
 Fru van Haag felt as if she had escaped a mortal 
 peril. The thought of dressing twins with anyone made 
 her shiver. But when Lund brought out his catalogues 
 and began turning the leaves, she felt as helpless as a 
 small bird under the eye of a cobra. She stood there 
 staring confusedly at the plates, until at last, discovering 
 one that did not positively hurt, she pointed a trembUng 
 finger and said that would do. 
 
 " Ah, ' The Ohvia,' yes. OUvia. I'll write for it 
 this evening — ^it'll be here by Saturday."
 
 94 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " But I want it with straight pockets, please, and 
 straight fronted." 
 
 " Altered as you please," said Lund. He took a 
 piece of paper and noted down : " Olivia. Straight 
 pockets, no full bosom." 
 
 " That's the way, then ? " 
 
 " Yes, thanks. . . ." 
 
 The material and buttons were then settled. Lund 
 laid his paper aside — that was that deal over — and 
 said : 
 
 " You're an acquisition to the town, Fru Haag. Yes, 
 indeed, I mean it. It's hardly too much to say so. We're 
 dehghted to have you in our midst. We're always talk- 
 ing about the good you do in secret. It's beautiful. 
 Now there's that lamplighter, for instance, that comes 
 up to your house every day and gets loaded up with 
 food. Isn't that a beautiful thing to do ? And then 
 that boy of Egholm's, Sivert, that you paid a passage 
 for to America out of your own private income, in spite 
 of your husband going against it all he could — in the 
 nicest way, of course." 
 
 " Who — who on earth dares to go thrusting their 
 nose into my affairs ? " said Fru van Haag angrily. 
 
 " Thrusting ? Well, you can't help it, you know, 
 when it's thrust right under your nose by every one 
 that comes into the shop. Now there's the policeman 
 — I say to him, ' Why weren't the lamps alight last 
 night ? — Because Mikkelsen was drunk. — And why 
 was Mikkelsen drunk ? — Because Fru Haag's promised 
 him free gratis dinner every day for him and his wife 
 and nine children ! ' And then about Sivert. How can 
 people help knowing, when you go round to Egholm's 
 yourself two and three times in a single week ? First 
 time — and the second, perhaps — we thought you were
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 95 
 
 just going to be photographed Uke anybody else. But 
 then Fru Hermansen comes along and tells how you 
 and Egholm were children together — in the nicest way, 
 of course. And I said it was all to Fru Haag's credit : 
 those were my words. And that's why I said to S0rensen, 
 send me that one with the tassels among the window 
 selection ; that'll be for Fru Haag. Sorensen and I, 
 we're friends ; we know each other. When he started, 
 I was head assistant. And now he's making his twelve 
 thousand Kroner a year. Ah, well . . . ! " 
 
 Lund sighed at the distance between his own poor 
 existence and that of H. P. Sorensen, travelHng at twelve 
 thousand a year. That sigh proved his salvation. Fru 
 Clara's eyes flashed lightnings ; in a moment she would 
 stamp this miserable little area sneak under her heel 
 and go. Then all at once she saw the sordid poverty of 
 the man. It was the pride of his Hfe to be able to claim 
 friendship with a commercial traveller. It was food and 
 drink to him to glean some scraps of gossip about other 
 people's Hves. It was a red-letter day when he sold a 
 cheap httle jacket. No doubt he had a struggle to make 
 ends meet. She had been in the shop now for nearly 
 half an hour, and not another customer had entered in 
 the time. He had not even a shop assistant . . . poor 
 little man ! 
 
 She let him go on, and he went on, all unsuspecting, 
 gossiping happily, his eyes glittering behind his glasses 
 as he talked. He enjoyed his own eloquence, and 
 believed he had found an admiring hearer. Oh, he 
 knew that women one and all loved flattery. 
 
 " Sivert, of course, I know. Known him for years. 
 I was to have had him in here to learn the business at 
 one time. Only, he hadn't the education. But that, of 
 course, doesn't matter in America. Dollars — that's all
 
 96 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 they care about there. At 3.75 in Danish money. Now 
 Egholm's youngest — what's his name ? — Emanuel, he'll 
 get all the education he wants, now you've put him to 
 school at your own expense. Hehe ! " 
 
 " Really, Hr. Lund, you seem to know everything. 
 I suppose you can hear the grass grow, now, can't you ? " 
 
 But Lund laughed triumphantly. " I hear a good 
 deal, of course. As for hearing the grass grow, that's 
 more than anybody can, seeing it makes no noise. But, 
 you see, when Fru Egholm- comes in to buy a jacket 
 with brass buttons for the boy, why, naturally I say to 
 myself : now what does he want a jacket with brass 
 buttons for ? And then, why, as a man of business, 
 you know, the rest's easy. I let that jacket go for 
 8.90. On credit — but what does that matter ? I don't 
 look down on a man because he runs into debt ; it's the 
 people that never buy anything, they're the worst. 
 And, anyhow, he's always got the boat, if it came to 
 that." 
 
 " Eight Kroner ninety, you said ? " Fruen took out 
 her little flat grey purse. " Write it off as paid, will 
 you ? " 
 
 " Now, isn't that noble ? " said Lund, fluttering 
 eagerly through the leaves of his cash-book. " But I 
 will say, Egholms are worth it. First-rate people. I 
 don't mind saying I took an interest in the family myself 
 at one time." 
 
 " You ? " said Fru van Haag. She had been on 
 the point of leaving, but now she stopped once more. 
 
 " Yes," said Lund, nodding with a satisfied air. " It 
 was the time when he went about inventing that steam- 
 boat thing of his. I warned him. You leave it alone, 
 I said. And I suppose I was the only one tliat said as 
 much. That's what you call foresight. And. then, sure
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 97 
 
 enough, the whole thing was burned up to nothing — 
 pst ! And it vanished. Hehe ! " 
 
 " It was dreadfully hard for him, poor man." 
 
 " Noble and generous again ! I felt the same myself 
 at the time, I remember. Yes, I think I can fairly say 
 I've done a good deal for the Egholms. When he built 
 that abominable rabbit-hutch of his, people said it 
 was a disgrace to the town, and ought to be forbidden. 
 I simply said let him ! It won't be a disgrace after all, 
 but a sight for tourists. Tourists they Hke that sort 
 of odd thing. And we've three great attractions for 
 tourists here. There's the situation, to begin with. And 
 then the church and then the hutch — that's what they call 
 Egholm's place now. Did you know we were going to 
 have tourists here, Fru Haag ? Yes, next summer. 
 There's a Httle cUque of us have joined in, to take over 
 Vang's hotel and let it out to summer boarders. It was 
 my idea. I discovered the situation. I've heard people 
 say Knarreby was prettier than Copenhagen and Skagen 
 together. More situation about it, that's all. What 
 do you think of it, Fru Haag ? " 
 
 Fru van Haag said she knew nothing about tourists, 
 and did not care. She was moving again to the door, 
 when Lund stopped her by the simple process of getting 
 in her way, and rapped out at a furious rate : 
 
 " I think we shall get them all right. You see, 
 they'll come. And they'll be all dressed up, you can be 
 sure, and make our own people here look to their things 
 a bit. Who is there in the whole of the town now that 
 troubles about their dress ? Not a soul, except the 
 postmaster's lady. Ah, Fru Weisz, she's a lady that 
 knows how to dress ! You ought to see her in the winter, 
 with her furs on — loaded up with them, ready to sink 
 under the weight of them. And that's the truth. Now, 
 7
 
 98 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 how are you off for furs, Fru Haag ? I'm sure it would 
 be a shame for a lady in your position to be outshone by 
 a postmaster's wife." 
 
 " I've nothing much in the way of furs, I'm afraid." 
 
 " Ah ! Well, now, I have," said Lund, and fairly 
 jumped. " Just let me show you a lovely evening fox 
 I've got here — quite cheap, too. Got it lying over by 
 the merest chance." 
 
 " Not now, thank you," said Fru van Haag. She 
 was growing positively afraid of this httle brown spider. 
 
 " No, no, of course, no hurry. Not the season for 
 furs just at present. But summer blouses, now ? I've 
 a simply first-rate selection ? If you'll wait just one 
 second I'll show what I can do in blouses. You've no 
 idea . . ." 
 
 " No, really, no, thank you. Don't trouble . . ." 
 
 " There ! " cried the httle man, tearing down a 
 cascade of cardboard boxes. Crepe de chine, 7.35. 
 Tartan, half-silk. I think we shall be able to give 
 them a lead this year. In blouses especially. Look 
 at this, now, for 6.85. They're moving the railway 
 station, you know. The railway people want to buy 
 up Egholm's house and the bit of ground there for 
 the new buildings, but we don't want it that way at 
 all. No, we're going to get the railway right away 
 from that quarter of the town, and the new station 
 buildings in Kongeskoven — have to expropriate that, 
 of course. That is to say, Kammerherren will have 
 to sell whether he likes it or not. That's our idea. 
 What do you think of this, now — pale mauve, with 
 the youthful collar ? " 
 
 " No. I don't like any of them. What was that 
 about the railway station ? When were they going to 
 move it ? "
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 99 
 
 " As soon as the grant's approved by the State. 
 Next year, we hope. But these blouses, now — that's 
 the sort of thing for a real lady. See them in the 
 highest circles. Even a common servant girl '11 have 
 two or three of them to change with." 
 
 " Thanks, thanks. . . . But you mean they would 
 cut down half the trees there, in Kongeskoven, to make 
 room for a railway station ? They'd have to, of course." 
 
 " Only a bit of it. Not a tree beyond what's strictly 
 necessary. Wouldn't do to spoil the situation, you 
 know. Ah, my mistake. I thought it was blouses. 
 By the way, now I've got it down, is there an3^hing in 
 underlinen, now ? This sort of thing . . . ? " 
 
 " No, thank you. I think my Unen will do very well 
 for the present. I'm afraid I must go now. I hope I 
 haven't given you too much trouble." 
 
 Lund flung his cardboard boxes aside and stepped 
 out from behind the counter. 
 
 " Trouble ? Not a bit of it. Only too delighted ! 
 But — now I think of it — there's different sorts of under- 
 linen, you know. Lace edging, for instance — never 
 worn now. A light frill, gathered so. And knickers 
 slightly more open at the knee." 
 
 Fru van Haag was already in the street. But she 
 felt as if the httle draper's business eye saw clean 
 through all she had on. A shudder of disgust passed 
 through her, but she found no words to fling in his face. 
 Instead, she said apologetically, with a blush : 
 
 " Oh, but really, I have some besides the lace, 
 Hr. Lund. It's only my big trunk that went astray. 
 But they've found it all right now, and I shall have it 
 here soon." 
 
 Lund retired into his shop, pale with the effects of 
 his excitement. He passed one hand through his hair,
 
 100 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 which had grown thin and grey the last few years. 
 Gradually, however, he recovered and, going to the back 
 door, called up the stairs : 
 " Minna, Minna ! " 
 
 There was the sound of a door opening above, and a 
 shrill voice hailed down : " Yes ? " 
 " Did you see her — Fru Haag ? " 
 " Yes. Did she take it, after all ? " 
 " No ! She wasn't up to it. No taste at all. Took 
 a miserable little thing fit for a servant girl. So you can 
 have the one with the trimmings now." 
 
 Minna advanced as far as the stair rail, so that her legs 
 were visible from below. Good heavy legs they were, 
 twice as bulky at least as Uttle Lund's. Her feet were 
 encased in blue sHppers with swansdown edging. 
 
 " Was it an alpaca she chose ? " 
 
 " No — white frotte. ' Ohvia,' with rounded buttons, 
 straight pockets, and belted at the back. She wouldn't 
 have the full bosom at any price." 
 
 " And what about Egholm's account. Did you ask 
 her ? " 
 
 " She offered to pay it herself before Fd said a word. 
 So there must be something fishy there. Anyhow, FU 
 mark that one in the window ' Sold,' and you can have 
 it whenever you like." 
 
 " I want to have a look at that ' Olivia ' first." 
 
 " Lord, girl, don't be a fool ! I tell you, the thing's 
 ages out of fashion ; flat as a door in front." 
 
 " You leave it to me. You've no idea of individu- 
 ahty. And seeing I keep myself, you've no call to . . ." 
 
 The shppers disappeared, a door slammed, but a 
 little later came the sound of singing from above, testi- 
 fying to Minna's excellent health and spirits. 
 
 Fru van Haag felt a trifle ashamed of herself as she
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 101 
 
 walked home. She had but a vague idea of what the 
 thing would look Uke when she got it. There would 
 hardly be much left of " Olivia " after the alterations, 
 but perhaps it might make up into something hke the 
 little Brussels jacket, which was really what she had 
 been thinking of when the spider man began. Well, 
 well . . . 
 
 But what was that he had said about the railway ? 
 
 Fru Clara stood still in the middle of the street and 
 nodded to herself. 
 
 Yes . . . that was the way to manage it ! 
 
 If the railway took over Egholm's Uttle property, 
 it would bring him in a nice Uttle sum. Properly used, 
 it might form the key to his dearest wish. . . . 
 
 Fru Clara nodded again and went on her way. 
 
 She might put in a word with the Minister. . . . 
 
 Passers-by in the street greeted her with respect. 
 But those within doors, watching from behind windows 
 and curtains, shook their heads and said : 
 
 " Look at her showing herself off like that in the open 
 street ! "
 
 IX 
 
 FRU VAN HAAG again ! Her name was whispered 
 and cried about from house to house. Yes, she 
 had discovered some old paintings on the walls 
 of the church. It was true. Borrowed the key and 
 looked the place over from end to end. Clambered up 
 on a chair-back and . . . well, there the paintings were, 
 hidden away under endless coatings of whitewash. A 
 wonderful person was Fru van Haag. 
 
 The priest brought the matter to the notice of the 
 proper authorities, with a suggestion that these relics 
 of ancient art — naive, no doubt, yet beautiful in their 
 way — ought to be worth restoration. 
 
 The authorities thought not, seeing that the restora- 
 tion would cost money. 
 
 But Fancy-Drapery Lund, hearing of the matter, 
 runs his fingers through his hair, and conceives an idea 
 that makes his eyes glitter : the tourists ! 
 
 Minna is ordered down to attend to the shop, while 
 Lund runs about from one to another of the " clique " 
 and the more important townsfolk generally. 
 
 " The tourists ! " he whispers. " Tourists like a 
 church with a bit of colour. Plain white's out of fashion 
 now. Wall-painting's all the rage — you should see the 
 pictures they've got at Viborg, or the Raadhus at Copen- 
 hagen — that's not a church, of course, but still, it's got 
 a tower. They all go in for coloured things nowadays." 
 
 And the magic word, " Tourists," proved of such
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 103 
 
 power that it opened not only the hearts, but the 
 purse-strings. 
 
 Nobody really believed in the tourist business, but 
 all pretended they did. They formed societies and 
 syndicates for the exploitation of tourists. They built 
 bathing establishments, even summer villas, for their 
 accommodation. They suffered Egholm's house to 
 remain, and brightened up their church with costly 
 painting-work. All with a cheerful smile on the lips 
 and a deep distrust in their hearts. 
 
 Who was to do the painting in the church ? None 
 could be long in doubt about that : who but the man of 
 marvels, the painter Johan Fors ? 
 
 Hedvig saw in the paper that his name had been 
 mentioned at a meeting of the Town Council. She took 
 a bread-knife, cut out the paragraph, and hid it care- 
 fully in her chest of drawers. 
 
 When the work in the church began, there came an 
 exciting time for Hedvig. She knew now that he was to 
 be found up there just opposite, behind the thick red 
 walls. She wished they would turn transparent to her 
 eyes. Several times a day she found occasion to pass 
 by the church, and now and then managed to catch a 
 gUmpse of her Johan. She was easily contented where 
 Johan Fors was concerned. She came home with 
 cheeks flushed feverishly the first morning she had seen 
 him standing outside by one of the ivy-covered tombs. 
 His painting-smock was spotted all over in every hue, 
 mostly about the pockets, and least between the shoulder- 
 blades, where, of course, it was not so easy to wipe one's 
 fingers. There was a belt to the thing, and the ends 
 hung down on either side. 
 
 Later that day Hedvig had another experience, even 
 more exciting than that of the morning.
 
 104 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 She was out on errands again, and, on the stroke of 
 twelve precisely, Johan stepped out from the church 
 door, locking it after him, and putting the big key in his 
 pocket. They met just outside the gate. He lifted his 
 chin and saw her, and, when she nodded, off came his 
 broad-brimmed hat with a flourish, and a smile came 
 waving to her from his Ups and eyes. It even seemed 
 as if his hair, all gleaming in the sun, was smihng too. 
 
 On the following Sunday Hedvig asked for leave to 
 go out. She wanted to go to church. Fruen said yes, 
 but looked at her with such an expression of surprise 
 that Hedvig blushed. 
 
 Hedvig went in early. She could see there was ^ome 
 scaffolding up on the north wall, where a red and green 
 frieze had been commenced. At first she took up her 
 place just under the scaffolding, but before long realised 
 that this was the worst thing she could do, and moved 
 accordingly over to a seat on the opposite side. She 
 walked with her proudest air, fancying every soul in the 
 church could see she had chosen a spot from which she 
 could study Johan Fors' scaffolding all the time, and 
 anxious to impress them. 
 
 By the time the first hymn had begun, she was already 
 feeling acute discomfort from keeping her neck screwed 
 round. No, this was ridiculous ; she pulled herself 
 together and took a survey of the congregation. They 
 had stepped quietly past on the cocoanut matting along 
 the aisle, and clattered into their seats without her 
 having noticed a single one. Right in the front she could 
 see Kammerherren, with his bull-dog face, and a few stiff 
 and starched old ladies from Gammelhauge. Immedi- 
 ately behind was Hedvig's own respected master. She 
 could see the marks of the moustache-band on his cheek 
 and some irregularly dyed patches in his hair. Well.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 105 
 
 that, she could safely say, was his own fault. She at any 
 rate could be sure there was never crease nor speck on 
 his aothes, nor a dull spot on his boots. She could not 
 see his eyes from where she sat, but she felt sure they 
 were staring Hke two empty gateways, not even looking 
 in any fixed direction. But his red ears caught every 
 sound far or near. 
 
 In the same pew sat Postmaster Weisz and his little 
 over-dressed wife. Hedvig knew practically every- 
 body in the church, and those in the front pew were 
 folk she had been brought up from a child to look on 
 with respect. But of late her mistress had considerably 
 shaken this traditional reverence. And her eyes now 
 had not always the dull look of humble regard for her 
 " betters " ; she turned up her nose at her master him- 
 self, and made a face at Ironfounder Rothe. It was 
 this last jovial personage of whom her mistress had 
 declared that the rolls of fat at the back of his neck 
 looked like a grin seen from behind. And Hedvig dis- 
 covered that it was true. 
 
 There was her friend, Old Poulsen, with his chronic 
 stoop, singing away in his humble corner, and screwing 
 at his cuffs the while. 
 
 After the hymn came a prayer. Then Hedvig 
 heard voices that she knew, and, turning her head, per- 
 ceived her parents and Emanuel whispering anxiously 
 together and unable to fix on a place. They waited 
 till the prayer was over, and then sat down at the back. 
 
 At the last verse of a hymn the priest appeared Hke 
 a ghost in the pulpit and surveyed his flock. He was a 
 handsome man ; Hedvig felt a soft, childhke feehng in 
 her breast as his whispering voice began. He had 
 large, deep eyes that seemed to take in the whole of the 
 congregation at once. But when he paused for breath
 
 106 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 the first time, he looked up, turned his glance to the 
 right, and looked long at something there ; Hedvig 
 looked the same way, and lo, it was Johan's scaffolding 
 he was looking at. 
 
 It was an unforgettable day for Hedvig. Johan 
 and his work rose to a giddy height in her esteem. There 
 — there was Rothe himself craning his bull-neck back- 
 ward, and Uttle Draper Lund pohshing his glasses to get 
 every detail in. He coughed importantly, and nudged 
 his daughter Minna ; it was his doing that the scaffolding 
 was there at all ! 
 
 At last there was hardly a worshipper in the church 
 but was looking the wrong way up at this new hanging 
 altar. The few exceptions were His Excellency from 
 Gammelhauge, Toldforvalter van Haag, and Hedvig's 
 father. 
 
 When the sermon was over Hedvig had to go. She 
 nodded to her mother and Emanuel as she passed, but her 
 father did not see her ; he was sitting with folded hands 
 and an expression of transcendent bhss upon his face. 
 
 Day and night Hedvig's thoughts were of Johan. 
 She lived in one long ecstasy. His scaffolding had been 
 shifted ; he was working now on one of the high, small- 
 quartered windows. From her bedroom and the other 
 rooms facing that way she could see his smock as he 
 moved. Now and again she even caught a ghmpse of his 
 sunburned face, and his fair, viking hair bending for- 
 wards towards the window, but when this happened 
 she drew back, dazzled. She came no nearer to him 
 these days ; only now and again she was rewarded by a 
 flourishing wave of his big hat, when she chanced to pass 
 by the church at the proper time. 
 
 Then, one day at the beginning of August, when the 
 light nights had moved farther to the north, her mistress
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 107 
 
 came rushing in one evening to Hedvig's bedroom, and 
 gasped out : 
 
 " He's playing ! " 
 
 Her voice was as excited as if she had said the house 
 was on fire. Hedvig caught the infection in a moment ; 
 she jumped out of bed, and though it was months now 
 since they had spoken of Johan, she simply asked : 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 " In the church — listen ! " 
 
 They went to the window, and as soon as their ears 
 had got the range, a thread of melody span itself out 
 through the darkness, joining the three together. Only 
 for a moment ; then the two Usteners could no longer 
 be sure if it was music they heard, or only the rushing 
 of blood in their ears. 
 
 " Come ! " cried Fruen, gripping Hedvig firmly by 
 the wrist. 
 
 The child was almost going as she was, in her night 
 attire, but came to herself sufficiently to break away and 
 hurry into some clothes. 
 
 " Wait — oh, wait for me," she entreated, like a child, 
 as Fru Clara, impatient, moved as if to go. 
 
 As soon as they were outside the house, said Fruen : 
 
 " We must climb up the slope — the gravel makes 
 such a noise." 
 
 Hedvig nodded, and the two started off up the bank, 
 clambering in between elder bushes and stinging nettles 
 till they reached the church wall. Already they could 
 hear Johan's violin at work inside, but it was not tiU 
 they reached the door in the western porch that they 
 could make out any connected melody. Here they 
 could safely stand and listen : Johan would hardly have 
 more than one key to the door at the other end. Hedvig 
 was trembling with excitement. There was something
 
 108 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 so deliciously thrilling in standing here almost inside 
 the gloomy church by night, and hearing sounds issuing 
 from within. For, after all, who could say that it was 
 Johan inside there, playing in the dark ? Ah no, it 
 could not be ; it must be some ghost or other, haunting 
 the place. Surely no living hand could bring forth such 
 strange music as this ? And what living being would 
 ever dare to go all alone into the dark church by night ? 
 The corpses in their graves would rise and wreak a dread- 
 ful vengeance on any such intruder. Hedvig could 
 almost see the tombstones tottering, and Shapes in 
 ghostly, mouldering grave-clothes gripping with skeleton 
 fingers about his throat. . . . 
 
 She pressed close up to her mistress, and wished for 
 a moment she were safely back in bed. But then came 
 Fruen's voice close in her ear, reassuringly clear and 
 firm : 
 
 " The fellow plays quite decently, I declare ! " 
 
 Hedvig forgot her fear in a moment under the in- 
 fluence of her lady's calmness and strength. 
 
 " He's trying these runs over — can you hear ? It's 
 a curious sort of music, though. Like a bird soaring 
 up and up towards the sun, then suddenly losing all its 
 strength and dropping to earth. There — now it's up 
 again I He's powerful ; hark at the rustUng of his 
 feathers now ! Who were his parents, do you know ? " 
 
 " His mother died years and years ago. His father 
 died only a year or so ago, over in Sweden. He was a 
 basket-maker, but he used to play a lot. He got the 
 vioUn from a great musician somewhere, and Johan nad 
 it when he died." 
 
 The melody had changed now. Rik-rik-rik. Trak- 
 trakk-erak-erak. Rik-rik-rik. Trak-trakkerak. 
 
 " Listen — dancing in wooden shoes. Fancy the
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 109 
 
 cheek of the man, though — doing a barn-dance in 
 church." Fru Clara's voice was stern, but she fell to 
 dancing lightly as she spoke, so it could hardly have 
 been seriously meant. 
 
 " There — that's enough of that. Now the next ! " 
 
 It almost seemed as if Johan had heard. He broke 
 off, and began tuning his vioHn. 
 
 Any remains of fear that Hedvig might have cherished 
 were dispelled by the sober and commonplace tones of 
 Johan's tuning up. She could not help laughing inwardly 
 at the idea of Johan's sturdy figure standing there un- 
 moved, as if at his work by day on the scaffolding, 
 tuning his violin. Surely no other man in the world 
 was possessed of such diabolical, cold-blooded calm. 
 
 And Hedvig almost choked with pride at having Fru 
 van Haag, unquestionably the finest lady in the town, 
 standing out here and listening enthusiastically to her 
 Johan's music. 
 
 " Oh, I know that ! " cried Fruen, as the disturber 
 of the peace commenced again. " That's Liszt. Heavens ! 
 Wherever did he learn that ? Lovely ! " 
 
 Hedvig never doubted but that the musician in 
 there could play anything you pleased. 
 
 " Hey, stop ! That's aU wrong ! What are you 
 up to now. Master Johan ? Oh, the man's spilling a 
 horrible paint-pot over the loveliest work of art ! Fie, 
 Johan Fors ! " 
 
 Hedvig felt shamed and insulted on Johan's behalf, 
 but what could she say ? She did not know the piece 
 he was playing — to tell the truth, she did not even think 
 it nearly as good as the rest. 
 
 " Come along — I can't stand any more of this. It's 
 supposed to be Liszt, but he's messed it all up with 
 tassels and trimmings like one of Lund's abominable
 
 110 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 mantles. Oh, he's stopped — thank Heaven for that ! 
 Let's see what he'll play next." 
 
 But Johan did not play anything next. The next 
 thing they heard was Johan's footstep, first on wood, 
 then ringing on stone flooring. 
 
 Fruen caught Hedvig by the arm. " Did you hear 
 that ? Coming down the stairs ? Why, he must have 
 been standing in the pulpit itself. There are no other 
 stairs in the church ! Haha ! he's a marvel — he's more 
 than a marvel — he's mad — stark, staring mad. Stand- 
 ing up in the pulpit in the dead of night, playing to the 
 ghosts — playing magnificently, too — all except that 
 messy thing. There, hark at the door creaking — creak- 
 ing horribly ! Why aren't you frightened, you little 
 fool ? I've lost the power to shiver and shake myself, 
 but . . . There, he's gone." 
 
 But Johan did not go the way they had expected. 
 He turned the corner, and his steps came crunching 
 nearer. Then on a sudden Fru Clara found she had not 
 forgotten after all how to shiver and shake. She cowered 
 close to Hedvig in the darkest corner of the porch, held 
 her breath, and stood there trembling. Hedvig did not 
 tremble ; she stood as if in a lovely trance, unable to 
 move, feeling only that something must happen now. 
 But Johan walked past them quietly, without a sigh, 
 and a little farther on he stopped. When they ventured 
 to look out, he was standing motionless on the verge of 
 the slope, gazing towards the Toldbod itself. 
 
 For a quarter of an hour to the full he kept them 
 thus on the rack. It seemed hours ; their legs were near 
 giving way under them ; their eyes could no longer 
 pierce through the dark. At last they fancied he must 
 have vanished into the earth. But just as their patience 
 was at breaking-pomt, Johan came out of the night
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 111 
 
 once more, and walked back past them with a steady 
 step. 
 
 " That's the best fun I've had for ages," said Fruen 
 when they got back. " And what a mercy he didn't 
 see us. It would have been all over if he had." 
 
 " Yes, he'd have been furious," said Hedvig, with a 
 shudder. 
 
 " I dare say," said her mistress calmly. " But he'd 
 have been bursting with conceit, and that would have 
 been worse." 
 
 Fru Clara said good-night, and went into her own 
 room, where she lit a lamp and sat down to write. The 
 letter was to a well-known professor of music, and part 
 of it ran as follows : 
 
 " Since you'll have to come this way in any case, you 
 might as well keep your promise and pay me a visit. I'll 
 show you my home here, and my husband. In addition 
 to which attractions, there is a sort of musical mons- 
 trosity in the place here that might interest you. This 
 remarkable beast does not show itself in the daytime, 
 but wanders about by night in churchyards or in the 
 church itself, producing certain sounds which to me 
 seem somewhat original. I consider it your duty to 
 investigate the affair, in the cause of science, and ascer- 
 tain more precisely the nature of the beast. ..." 
 
 She closed down the envelope and was about to rise, 
 when she heard some one striking a match in the bed- 
 room. The slight sound was enough to change her 
 purpose. She sat down again and passed one hand 
 wearily over her eyes. It was dreadfully late. Never- 
 theless, she took a fresh sheet of paper, and wrote again, 
 this time to one Frits, an old friend of hers, it seemed,
 
 112 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 and now a Minister, set in authority over such things as 
 railways. Him she entreated to do her the favour of 
 extending the station at Knarreby as at present situated, 
 and on no account to shift it altogether to the west- 
 ward, where Lund and his party wished. She explained 
 that the matter was one of the utmost importance to 
 herself. " I can't have them spoiling all my pretty trees 
 out here. And you won't let them, will you. Frits ? "
 
 X 
 
 Now and again there comes a letter from Sivert 
 in America. He drives a milk-cart in Chicago, 
 and is very happy. He earns unprecedented 
 wages, and gets new things almost every other day : 
 now a pair of lined gloves, now a pair of boots (made all 
 in one piece), and last, not least, a new name — to wit, 
 Jimmy. Surnames aren't used in America, he explains. 
 And so delighted is he with his new name that he scrawls 
 it out ten times the usual size, decorating the letters with 
 leaves and flowers. Emanuel has strict instructions to 
 report to Fru van Haag whenever one of these epistles 
 arrives. Fruen begins to laugh and feel merry at the 
 mere mention of Sivert. As a rule, she puts on her 
 things and goes down to hear the letter read. Egholm 
 is no more than mortal ; he takes his chance when he 
 sees it. And, having discovered Fru van Haag's 
 interest in letters from Sivert, he endeavours to 
 transfer something of that interest to himself — by 
 reading them aloud. No one else is ever suffered 
 to read them to her. And Fruen sits the while 
 with a little plate of Syltetoj, Anna ready to jump 
 up at any moment, and Emanuel attentively stud3dng 
 the expression of Fru Clara's face over the edge of 
 his book. 
 
 Egholm makes a great fuss before he begins. This 
 in order to concentrate their attention. 
 
 " Now, what on earth have you done with the letter ? 
 8
 
 114 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 I told you to leave it here on my table. Ah, here it is 
 in my pocket all the time. 
 
 " Now be quiet. Put these scraps in order and give 
 me them as they come — No. i, No. 2, and so on. I had 
 to number them myself — he never troubles, the rascal. 
 Ready ? Then I'll begin. First of all, he starts off with 
 Chicago, 111., 26/8, and next to that he draws a palm 
 with a monkey cUmbing up. The sun sitting shining 
 up above like a glowing cogwheel. The monkey, I 
 suppose, is meant to be himself. . . ." 
 
 " Oh, if you're going to be funny, Fru van Haag and 
 I'll go," says Fru Egholm sharply. 
 
 "And the graceful palm, of course, is his mother. ..." 
 
 " I don't care for your flattery any more than your 
 impertinence ! It doesn't mean much one way or the 
 other." 
 
 " ' Dearly beloved parents, brothers and sisters, 
 Dog Fylla, friends and relations near and far, as many 
 as remember me in the old country ! 
 
 " ' Hearty thanks for the letter. But I must ask 
 you always to remember for the future and write outside 
 with my new name Jimmy which I'm called now, because 
 the old one Sivert isn't worth five cents over here. 
 Otherwise, everything all right and nothing much to 
 tell anyway. I am sticking to the Lord. It makes 
 you sort of pious being over here in a great big land 
 flowing with milk and honey, as the Scripture says. 
 The milk's my part — I start out with it at three in the 
 morning. Harness the horse myself, which is a mule, 
 and bit me in the arm the other day. But that was 
 Saturday, and next day being Sunday, and Thompson 
 the milkman, being a Methody, was in church, I pelted 
 the brute with corn cobs, and Thompson, seeing it all
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 115 
 
 sweating and lashing out behind as soon as anyone 
 came near, reckoned it must be the staggers, and gave 
 me another horse for three days till the beast had 
 forgotten about it.' 
 
 " A nice way to go on, indeed," put in his father. 
 " And here he's drawn a long-eared creature with its 
 tail up and breathing what looks Uke fire. That's his 
 poor beast of burden, I suppose." 
 
 " Very hkely it's meant to be you," said his 
 wife. " You calHng your poor son names when he's 
 set to struggle with wild beasts out of the Natural 
 History." 
 
 " ' Thompson's a Scandinavian like me. Both he 
 and his wife think no end of me by reason of my elegant 
 manners and beautiful voice. They want me to turn 
 Methody too. But I told them I must learn a bit 
 about it first. But Thompson and me we've agreed we 
 don't understand a word of the sermon, except just 
 here and there, being all in English. There's two be- 
 sides me driving carts for Thompson, but I'm the only 
 one they ever ask in on Sundays, seeing there's a chance 
 of me going over to the Methody lot. Please write and 
 tell me, dearly beloved parents, if you think I ought. 
 Perhaps he'll put my wages up a dollar or two a week — 
 Mrs. Thompson says he might. But I'm not going to 
 be tempted by worldly wealth and goods in a matter 
 of reUgion, specially when the barber round the block 
 says he'll give me two dollars to sing for his customers 
 and lather up from 6 p.m., and let him put a bill in the 
 window : " Come and hear the Swedish Nightingale." 
 
 " ' And now how is my beloved of old, which is Minna 
 Lund ? If she'd come over here and sing she'd be
 
 116 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 worth a thousand dollars. Write and tell me if she's 
 got married or anything. 
 
 " ' 1 live a quiet and respectable life as before, and 
 don't go out to places in the evening, because of having 
 to get up so early. But the other day I met a man, 
 Ferdinand Madsen, which you can see is a countryman, 
 being from Skelskor. We got a can of beer, and he 
 wanted me to go off on the tramp with him, out west. 
 But I wouldn't listen to him, for he's an out-and-outer, 
 which is the same as a good-for-nothing, wanting me 
 to chuck up my job that's decently paid, and slope off 
 without a word. Also he said I could do same as the 
 nigger was here before me. That nigger, he pinched 
 all the cash in the place, not to speak of what he did to 
 Mrs. Thompson, but they caught him and strung him up 
 to a lamp-post after, and tickled him to death. We 
 don't stand that sort of thing over here. I helped tickle 
 him, and, being noticed for the smart way I did it, they 
 let me take over his job, and hkewise his name, which 
 was Jimmy. 
 
 " ' But I wouldn't do a thing like that — I couldn't. 
 Being too much wrought upon by the teachings of Chris- 
 tian godliness that my dear parents taught me. And I 
 told him so, the out-and-outer. No, I'm going to stay 
 where I am, and tend to my work decent and honest, 
 and sing my pretty songs all the time. It pays you 
 best in the long run. In a little while you'll have me 
 beginning to send money home. You can put it in the 
 bank in my name, and no need to be shy of telhng people 
 about it. 
 
 " ' And now I close this letter with much love to you 
 all, my dearest parents, and learned brother Emanuel, 
 likewise sister Hedvig that's a perfect lady as near as 
 can be, and her Duchess that got me away from the old
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 117 
 
 country. And kind regards to everybody else that I 
 can't bother to think of their names because it's getting 
 late. Specially don't forget my first and only love, 
 Minna Lund, and ask if she's up to anything and every- 
 thing as I should like. — Yours respectfully, 
 
 " ' Jimmy Egholm. 
 
 P.S. — If I do go tramping with my new friend, 
 Ferdinand Madsen, I'll let you have my new address. 
 We shall be going round by Niagara Falls and such-Hke 
 geography things. Each of us to have at least six layers 
 of newspaper in our breeches behind. All tramps do 
 that.' " 
 
 There was silence in the room for a few seconds 
 when the letter was ended. All looked anxiously at 
 Fru van Haag, but she only drew a deep breath and said : 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 Egholm had certainly hoped for a signal for a 
 general burst of laughter. He found to his surprise 
 that he himself was unable to start laughing without a 
 lead, and said disappointedly : 
 
 " Aren't we going to laugh a bit at Jimmy's letter ? " 
 
 " It was much too interesting to laugh at." 
 
 " Yes, that's true," said Fru Egholm. 
 
 " It was written by your son." Fruen nodded to 
 Anna. 
 
 " Yes, yes." 
 
 " And yours." This was to Egholm. 
 
 " H'm. ... I don't know. . . ." 
 
 " Yes, it was. You, Egholm, and vSivert, are the 
 Lord's special pets. He's decked your brains with all 
 sorts of Christmas-tree decorations, whilst other people's 
 are just grey and bare. And I say : Open the door and
 
 118 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 let us others have a look at all the wonderful things. 
 Do some of your tricks, you lucky rascals that can ! " 
 
 But Egholm was by no means wishful to be included 
 in such a category. 
 
 " Well, I never heard such a thing," he said, with 
 something like indignation. " Are my ideas nothing 
 but Christmas-tree decorations ? My deep religious 
 feeling — is that nothing but foolery ? My inventions — 
 humbug ? My turbine, for instance — was that a joke ? " 
 
 " Wait a minute. You mustn't say humbug. I 
 didn't say so. Humbug isn't amusing, really. Your 
 things are always the exact opposite of humbug 
   — they're honestly meant. And as for the turbine, I've 
 heard so much about it that I believe in it as a good 
 invention. Why shouldn't there be useful things on 
 a Christmas tree ? But now, look here, Egholm, and 
 answer me ; haven't you yourself packed up your 
 splendid idea in the most ridiculous wrappings, like a 
 Christmas cracker ? Do you think a really earnest man 
 would sacrifice a steam-turbine to the gods out of sheer 
 pique, because a crowd of cobblers and barbers laughed 
 at it ? What ? " 
 
 " Perhaps I ought rather to have bowed down in 
 humiUty," said Egholm hesitatingly. " And tried to 
 improve the thing. Made the boiler bigger, and ..." 
 
 " Did I say anything about that ? Not a word ? 
 I mean you could perfectly well afford to make that 
 delightful sacrificial feast. And it's really worth more 
 to the woild to have seen it than to have got a new 
 sort of turbine." 
 
 " Do you think so — do you really think so ? " said 
 Egholm. 
 
 " Yes, I do. You just leave the world alone a few 
 years, till the engineers and people have found out that
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 119 
 
 same turbine in the ordinary and uninteresting way. 
 They can do it. It'll all come in time. But, again, a 
 few years behind you. That's the way it has to be done. 
 Oh, these engineers — I know quite a lot of them myself. 
 Stuck-up lot, and the most dreadful bores. But often, 
 of course, hard-working, clever men. There's one 
 coming down here one day this week. You'll see him 
 all right, for I fancy he'll walk in here and call on you 
 himself." 
 
 " Will he talk about the turbine ? " asked Egholm, 
 drawing himself up suddenly. 
 
 " No, but about something else that may interest 
 you. Frits writes me that he is sending over this 
 engineer to do some surveying in connection with the 
 new railway station. At the same time he is to ascer- 
 tain the price of certain properties — yours included — 
 which the railway might want to take over. Frits 
 mentioned it quite casually in writing to me, so of course 
 we mustn't say a word of it to anyone else." 
 
 The news touched Egholm's nerves as if with flame. 
 
 " But — good heavens . . . that — that'll be a stroke 
 of business ! " 
 
 " Yes, I dare say it might," said Fruen carelessly. 
 
 " Of course it must. The railway can afford to pay. 
 What does the railway care for a trifle of money more 
 or less when it wants to buy up my ground ? It'll pay 
 me what it's cost me, and the house here besides. Who 
 is this Frits that wrote and told you ? " 
 
 " Why, the Minister ..." 
 
 " The Minister ! . . . Good heavens ! . . ." 
 
 " Now, don't be a snob, Egholm. Frits is a friend 
 of mine. And Egholm's my best friend. That's rather 
 more, isn't it ? But tell me, now, what do you think 
 you ought to get for this pretty little house of yours ? "
 
 120 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " Well ..." said Egholm, stroking his forehead. 
 All sorts of calculations flew through his brain like a 
 team of runaway horses. He tried desperately to grasp 
 the reins. He knew, of course, what he had given for the 
 place, but, naturally, with an opportunity like this, 
 he ought to make an enormous profit out of it. "A 
 thousand Kroner, at least." 
 
 " A thousand Kroner ? The price of a cheap little 
 cottage piano. A thousand Kroner for a house with a 
 big garden at the back ? How do you work that out ? " 
 
 " I gave five hundred for the ground ; I ought to get 
 twice that at least." 
 
 " But what about the house ? " 
 
 " Well, that didn't cost much, really. I bought the 
 stuff from that workhouse place, and stuck most of it 
 together myself. No, the house isn't worth much, but 
 the site was so cheap, perhaps I might ask two thousand 
 for the lot, with the garden, trees and HHes and all. . . . 
 That is, if you think ..." 
 
 " But what about the goodwill of the business ? 
 You've a good connection here, that brings you in 
 enough to keep yourself, with a boat of your own, and 
 Syltetoj for me when I come. You mustn't forget the 
 business." 
 
 " I — I should take that with me," said Egholm, with 
 a hesitating laugh. But he went as far as to advance 
 the sum to two thousand five hundred. Even then, 
 however, he shook his head and said again, " It's easy 
 enough to ask, but shall I get it ? " 
 
 But Fru Haag had her own ingenious method of 
 calculation. 
 
 " We've got up as far as the price of a decent grand. 
 Add on a thousand Kroner and multiply by two, and 
 we'll be getting near it. How much is that, Emanuel ?
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 121 
 
 Right : seven thousand. That's the sum you are to ask 
 when the engineer comes. And if you dare to deceive 
 me by asking a single 0ye less, I'll write to Frits and get 
 him to shift the railway to another town altogether. 
 Now, do you understand ? " 
 
 " Yes, but . . ." 
 
 " If you give me any of your buts, I'll put the price 
 up again ! " 
 
 Egholm swung round on the opposite tack. He felt 
 as if he had the money in his hand already, and his face 
 shone. He rose with a swing, and Fru van Haag, guess- 
 ing he was about to grasp her hand and start a grand 
 thanksgiving scene, hastened to busy herself with 
 Emanuel's school-books, and run through his Enghsh 
 exercise with him. A httle after, Egholm had to go in 
 to the studio, and Emanuel went off with a boy friend, 
 leaving the two women alone. 
 
 " And what do you say. Little Mother, if this business 
 comes off ? " said Fru van Haag. 
 
 " Why, it's such a wonderful big sum of money, I 
 can't realise it at all. I never was good at money." 
 
 " Neither was I. It seems to me a ridiculous Httle 
 sum for all you've got here. But I felt quite instinctively 
 that our friend would spoil the whole thing by asking too 
 httle. He's that sort of man, that it's only the things 
 he hasn't got that seem worth anything to him." 
 
 " There's one exception, I think." 
 
 "Is there? What is it ? " 
 
 " You. It's a wonderful thing, the way he's taken 
 it all since you came. I can't help shaking my head 
 over it all day, sometimes, when I think about it." 
 
 " What is there to think about ? " asked Clara, 
 with a smile. This was interesting. 
 
 " Why, it's just the most extraordinary thing in the
 
 122 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 world, that's all. Egholm's another man since you 
 came. He's turned so kind and good, it makes me feel 
 quite anxious sometimes ; I can't help fancyiiig he must 
 be ill or something. He can use hard words now and 
 then, of course, but nothing to what he used to do. 
 And as for striking me — why, you'd think he'd forgotten 
 how to lift his hand. But he's not ill. Not a bit. He 
 takes his food as a man should, and sleeps sound at nights. 
 I'll never beUeve there's any illness about that. He's 
 more like well than ever he was. That's what I think 
 of it. But you mustn't think he hasn't been good and 
 kind at times before — hundreds of times. There was 
 that day, for instance, when he took and kissed me on 
 the station platform here at Knarreby, with I don't 
 know how many people looking on. It was the day 
 I first came down here with the children. One of the 
 loveliest days in all my Hfe. And then one night, just 
 when he was getting finished with that turbine thing. 
 Never a soul'd believe me if I told them how good he was 
 to me that night. And a thousand other times, too, in 
 httle ways. But to speak of the time when we were 
 first engaged — ah ! . . . Why, do you know he's actually 
 written verses to me ! Heaps of them ! But all that's 
 only been just for a bit, you understand — an afternoon, 
 an evening, or so. Now and then perhaps for a day or 
 two together. But I don't count that, because it was 
 always just before the lottery came out. And that, of 
 course . . . But otherwise, it's mostly been the hard 
 side of him I've seen most of." 
 
 " You poor thing ! When was it he began being 
 unkind to you ? Was it right from the first ? " 
 
 " It was on our wedding day ; we'd had our meal, 
 such as it was, and the others had gone. Mother squeezed 
 my hand and looked so hard at me outside in the passage.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 123 
 
 And I couldn't help crjdng when she went, and that 
 made him furious, of course. Well, I ought not to have 
 cried, I suppose, but I simply couldn't help it, and then 
 he got angry. But, as I said, he's been quite nice ever 
 so many times since then. Dear Lord, yes, I've no cause 
 to complain ; I got the man I wanted, and I'm not 
 complaining either. You wouldn't call it so ? I'm only 
 just saying the httle ways he's been, so you can under- 
 stand what it means to me to have him like he is now. 
 It's wonderful. Why, I can turn him round my httle 
 finger, as they say, and tie knots in him, if I only hke to 
 try. I could tell you one time by way of example, and 
 that from this very morning. You know he's always 
 had a fancy for collecting all sorts of rubbish, and to-day 
 he comes home dragging a whole sack of those paper- 
 mashy figure things they stick on coffins — they don't 
 use them so much nowadays, but you know the sort of 
 thing I mean — angels' heads and that sort — Faith, 
 Hope, and Charity, and burning torches, and clasped 
 hands that's supposed to mean farewell-for-ever-deeply- 
 mourned. Very pretty in a sorrowful way, and I won't 
 say no, but still . . . You wouldn't call it the sort of 
 thing to stick up over a house for the Hving. That's 
 what he was going to do with them. He was that set 
 on it. You know what he's hke when he once gets an 
 idea into his head. But I was so dreading what'd come 
 of it if he started now, setting the neighbours talking 
 again now after they've quieted down and left us in 
 peace for a bit, after that turbine business and the house 
 here itself that they can't abide, because it's not quite 
 like the others. Ah, we've had a deal to put up with 
 that I won't go into now, as when Egholm went out after 
 a book in the snow, all barefooted, and they thought he 
 was mad. No, but for the sake of the children, and
 
 124 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 Emanuel especially, now he's at his fine school. — 
 ' What's an ignoramus hke you know about such things ? ' 
 says he. — ' I know enough to know what sets folk grin- 
 ning at us all,' says L ' I've sense enough for that, 
 anyway. I don't mind the garlands and torches so 
 much, and maybe a cherub or so, or a Faith-and-Hope, 
 that might mean anything. But if you start nailing up 
 an arch of farewell hands over the door ' — that's what 
 he was going to do — ' they'll be calHng the place Coffin 
 Lodge at once.' — ' And what do I care if they do ? ' 
 says he. ' I don't care that for them ! Nor for any- 
 body ! ' And I thought to myself, Ah, what about how 
 he goes bowing and scraping as soon as they come to be 
 taken. — ' But you're all wrong,' he says, ' anyway, call- 
 ing them farewell-for-ever hands and deeply mourned. 
 They're hearty -greeting hands, and you know as well as I 
 do, Fru van Haag's coming round this afternoon ! ' " 
 
 " Oh, you dehghtful children ! " murmured Fru 
 van Haag. 
 
 " Well, of course, that made a difference, and I 
 softened down a bit. It's the thought that matters, and 
 it was a right enough thought too — in his scatter-brained 
 fashion, that is. ' Fruen '11 be mad with you,' I said, 
 ' if you start any of your nonsensical tricks,' — ' Think 
 so ? ' he says, and drops his hammer there on the stand. 
 But I softened down, as I said, and let him stick up just 
 one pair under the creeper, where it didn't show so 
 much. There's no sense in being hard on a man more 
 than you need, is there ? " 
 
 " No," said Fru van Haag softly, stroking the little 
 woman's cheek. 
 
 On the way home Fru van Haag had the good fortune 
 to encounter Johan Fors alone, in one of the httle side 
 streets, where they could talk together. It was an
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 125 
 
 opportunity she had long wished for. She stopped in 
 front of him, and said : 
 
 " Aren't you the man that plays the violin ? " 
 
 Johan frowned, and looked her up and down. But 
 the effort to appear dignified himself in face of this 
 elegant creature with her quiet assurance of manner soon 
 proved too much for him. He even unbent so far as to 
 smile a little, and answered : 
 
 " Only a bit. And only to myself." 
 
 " There's a rhapsody of Liszt that you know — with 
 a chromatic scale ever so long." 
 
 But Johan turned wrathful at this, partly because 
 he did not rightly understand what she meant. 
 
 " I've never invited anyone to listen to me that I'm 
 aware of." 
 
 " Really ? You must forgive me, but I can't shut 
 my ears at will, you know. I was lying awake one 
 night — perhaps you live somewhere near. I could 
 hear it quite distinctly through the window." 
 
 Johan did not stop to wonder how she could know it 
 was he who had been pla^dng. He was reheved at the 
 suggestion of his living near, and said : 
 
 " Well, there's nothing to be ashamed of, I suppose, 
 if a man does play the viohn. Only, I don't like being 
 spied on. ..." 
 
 " Of course there's nothing to be ashamed of. I 
 should think not, indeed. But, all the same, the end of 
 that rhapsody as you played it was all wrong." 
 
 But Fru van Haag was badly out in her reckoning 
 here. 
 
 " It was false as could be — abominable ! " 
 
 " If it's the one I think, then I learned it of Fruen 
 herself. Haha ! I'm painting in the church, as I dare 
 say you know, seeing it's in the papers about it, and I
 
 126 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 heard you playing it, I wasn't spying — not a bit of 
 it. I was working in the church, as I said, and, coming 
 round behind one evening, your windows were open, 
 and so . . . But if mine's wrong, then yours is wrong 
 too, for I've never heard it anywhere else." 
 
 " Do you mean to say my playing's wrong ? " 
 " No more than mine, I suppose. The piece was the 
 same both times — that is to say, all except the end. I 
 didn't hke that part, so I made up another. I've 
 made up heaps of pieces myself, all through." 
 " And you take hberties hke that with Liszt ? " 
 " It's all the same to me who it is, when the piece 
 itself 's a silly jumble with no sense in it." 
 
 Fru van Haag looked at the man critically for a 
 moment. What a dreadfully rude fellow he was ! 
 But there was something honest about his well-shaped 
 hands, red and soiled as they were. There was a re- 
 markable will power in his firm blue eyes. No, she 
 would not forsake Hedvig's love for a breach of 
 etiquette. 
 
 " I stopped you really because I had something 
 particular to say to you. Professor Hans Juhl is coming 
 down here shortly. If you care about it, he could get 
 you into the Conservatoire in Copenhagen, perhaps, if 
 you would come up and play to him at my house. 
 Hans Juhl — I don't know if you know who he 
 is?" 
 
 " Yes ; I know his name from the papers." 
 " Well and good. If you think you'd care. . . Of 
 course, I can't promise anything. But it would be a 
 good thing for you to learn something — don't you 
 think ? " 
 
 " No — I'm not keen on it. But I'd like to have 
 a word with the Professor, all the same."
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 127 
 
 " Oh , . . ? You think you are perfect, then, in 
 every way ? " 
 
 Johan shook his head gently, and said : 
 
 " Perfect — that's saying a good deal. I don't 
 suppose the Professor himself is that. But I've got 
 my work in the church now that'll take me a year at 
 least. And, besides, I know quite enough of the part 
 that's my special line — making up new pieces and alter- 
 ing old ones. Composing, they call it. There was a 
 musician I met at a big cafe in Munich — Wunsche, his 
 name was. And he said, ' There's a hundred thousand 
 can play for one that can compose.' There's a deal of 
 truth in that. But I'd Hke to have a talk with the 
 Professor, and see if he'd write my things down with 
 the proper notes, so they could be printed and sold. 
 I've often thought of that." 
 
 Heavens ! Was there ever such stiff-necked conceit ? 
 What could be done with the man ? 
 
 " But surely it would be better for you to learn to 
 write down your music yourself, without having to ask 
 the Professor to help you every time. Don't you 
 think ? " 
 
 " Yes, that'd be grand, to write music straight off," 
 said Johan Fors dreamily. " But I'm not going to 
 Copenhagen to their music school or whatever they call it. 
 Haven't time. And I don't suppose they go in for my 
 special line much there." 
 
 " I dare say we shall have to postpone that for the 
 present," said Fruen, with admirable seriousness. " But 
 I will send you word as soon as Hans Juhl arrives. If 
 your things are good, he will write them out for you. 
 I'll answer for that . " 
 
 " Thank you. Yes, the pieces are good enough. 
 If not, I'd have seen it myself. I don't coddle up a
 
 128 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 thing because it's my own work. It's the same with 
 painting pictures. No good — then chuck it away and 
 done with it." 
 
 " Oh, so you paint pictures too ? " 
 
 "Used to." 
 
 " Landscapes, or flowers, or . . . ? " 
 
 " All sorts. Fishermen. Vesuvius. King Christian 
 on horseback. But I've given it up. Stand there 
 two and three days for a measly four or five or six 
 Kroner. ..." 
 
 " You've travelled a good deal. Vesuvius, you said ? 
 I've been there too." 
 
 " No, I never got farther than Rome. After that we 
 went up northwards, and by steamer from Livorno. But 
 everybody knows Vesuvius." 
 
 " So you paint your pictures from post cards ? 
 Doesn't matter in the least if you've never seen the thing 
 yourself — what ? " 
 
 Johan had sunk so far in her estimation that she no 
 longer found him even amusing. She intended to offend 
 him if possible before she went. 
 
 Johan thought for a moment, and then said : 
 
 " No — o, you ought to see a thing, of course, before 
 you can paint it. See and Ipok all the time. Hand 
 should work by itself, then, till it's done. But for those 
 auction sales, when you never get beyond six Kroner. . . . 
 I did a good picture once, though, of my mother. She 
 died when I was six, and I could hardly remember her, 
 really. I've got it in my pocket, if you'd like . . ." 
 
 Johan set down his paint -pots and took out a thick 
 pocket-book. 
 
 " Here . . . here it is." He handed her a drawing, 
 worn and soiled at the edges. 
 
 " Did you really do that ? " said Fru van Haag. Her
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 129 
 
 lips were parted, her eyes opened wide as if to draw in the 
 impression. " Why, that's splendid ! " 
 
 " Yes, it's good. There's not many could do it as 
 well." 
 
 Fru van Haag frowned, and a sudden suspicion 
 crossed her mind. This conceited young man was not 
 speaking the truth, perhaps. The drawing was no doubt 
 simply a copy. 
 
 She glanced up from the paper and looked searchingly 
 at him. But Johan's face was full of proof that the 
 drawing was genuine, for there was an unmistakable 
 Hkeness between the dehcate face of the woman and 
 himself. It was just the face his mother or his sister 
 must have had. The drawing was done with wondrously 
 fine strokes of the pen ; it looked Hke an engraving. The 
 Unes curved boldly, bringing out a woman's head of 
 unusual beauty. 
 
 Fruen looked once more from the drawing to the face 
 of the man before her. No, to be honest, she could 
 not but confess that Johan was a remarkably handsome 
 young man. The setting sun was full in his face. Now 
 and again he Winked his eyes calmly, but without moving 
 a muscle beyond. He was deep in thought over some- 
 thing or other as he stood there waiting for her to return 
 the picture. What eyes he had ! 
 
 " And had you no picture to draw from ? " 
 
 " No — ^it's just as I thought her. But I suppose it's 
 easier to think what your mother was hke than Vesuvius, 
 for instance." 
 
 " But — you're really an artist ! " said Fruen, with 
 enthusiasm, and her glance met his. 
 
 Johan took back his drawing calmly, set it carefully 
 in his pocket-book, and returned the latter to its place. 
 Then he took up his paint-pots, each on one crooked 
 9
 
 130 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 finger, turned his head sharply first to one side then to 
 the other, as if looking for his answer, drew himself 
 up at last, and said slowly, as if it were a matter of 
 course : 
 
 " I hope so, I'm sure. But only with the violin."
 
 XI 
 
 OLD POULSEN— grey, old, threadbare Told- 
 assistant Poulsen — has many duties to perform, 
 but the first of the day is the hardest, though 
 perhaps the one he sets most store by, as carr3dng a certain 
 dignity. He has to wake his chief, and call him to his 
 ofi&cial duties. Poulsen carries out his task with care, 
 and with the nervous trepidation of a young priest 
 ofi&ciating at his first funeral. At twenty minutes to 
 eight he lets himself into the offtce, hangs up his things, 
 and begins walking up and down the linoleum, with his 
 hands behind his back and his left shoulder thrust up. 
 At every turn he glances nervously towards the office 
 clock ; he has an ineradicable suspicion that it is going 
 to stop. He compares it with his watch, not once but 
 many times. At five minutes to eight he leaves the 
 office — after looking at himself in the glass — and steps 
 noiselessly — save when he stumbles, which has been 
 known to happen — up the stairs and into Hedvig's 
 kitchen. He does not knock, but simply appears, after 
 the manner of a ghost. A grey, Hfeless nod is the utmost 
 he gives by way of greeting. He carries his watch in his 
 hand, and gazes at it as at a magic crystal — hence 
 his occasional stumbhng on the stairs. Hedvig, despite 
 the occupation of her mind by the god of love, is stiU 
 visited at times by the devils of mischief ; she lays all 
 manner of noisy implements and chattels just inside 
 
 the door, where the poor old soul can walk into them 
 
 131
 
 132 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 and die of fright at the resulting clamour. Brooms are 
 useful, dustpans are excellent, and there is one particular 
 tray that goes careering half across the kitchen, to subside 
 with a sort of d3dng moan. Poulsen has never yet 
 accustomed himself to these little surprises ; he stands 
 there, stiff and shuddering, till the racket is over. 
 
 " You must be mad," he whispers. 
 
 " Wliy ? What's the matter ? " 
 
 " You — you'll wake him ! " 
 
 " Me ? Why, it was you, Poulsen. What do you 
 want up here ? " 
 
 " I've got to go and wake him — you know that well 
 enough." 
 
 " Why, then, all the better. Save you the trouble." 
 
 " Oh, you . . ." Poulsen says no more. What's 
 the use of talking to a creature like this ? Wake people 
 up that way — wake his respected chief with scuttles 
 and pans ? No. . . . Hedvig's a good soul at bottom, 
 perhaps, but she'll get into trouble one of these days. 
 Lose her place as sure as can be, with her disrespectful 
 ways. And the worst of it is, she drags others into it 
 as well. 
 
 Poulsen has got as far as the bedroom door. Holding 
 his breath, he raps twice with his knuckles, and holds 
 his breath again. 
 
 " Yes ! " from within. 
 
 " Half-past eight." 
 
 " Tha-anks." 
 
 Poulsen's mission is over. He shuffles off, relieved. 
 
 " You'd better give over those tricks now, Hedvig. 
 It — it's not a bit funny, you know. Give over, Uttle 
 Hedvig. It isn't nice of you, you know, playing tricks 
 on an old man." 
 
 " Me ? Well, I never did ! Can't I put a broom
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 133 
 
 down where I please ? The idea ! And in my own 
 kitchen, too ! What'd you say if I came down interfering 
 with you and where you put your pens ? " 
 
 " Hedvig . . , now don't go turning and twisting 
 things like that. You know it's not true, Hedvig." 
 
 " Well, really, you are . . . You'll worry the life out 
 of me. And I'm nervous enough as it is. It's anaemia. 
 I mean it, Poulsen ; I've got anaemia, as true as I stand 
 here. But as for saying what isn't true . . . telUng lies . . . 
 Oh, Poulsen ! I only know one person in the world that 
 tells Hes, and that, I'm sorry to say, is . . . you, Poulsen. 
 Yes, and I can prove it. You said it was half-past eight, 
 and there's the eight-o'clock whistle just going — listen ! 
 There's the church clock striking eight. TeUing lies, 
 Poulsen ! And to the master ! " 
 
 Poulsen looks round helplessly. They have discussed 
 the ethics of this question before. 
 
 " You know well enough it's by official orders — from 
 Hr. Toldforvalter van Haag himself. And when he says 
 I'm to say so . . . Wassermann didn't, I know, but ..." 
 
 " Oh, it doesn't make it any better that there's two 
 of you in the plot. A lie's a he, you can't get over that." 
 
 What could poor Old Poulsen say in reply ? A lie 
 was a lie — that was his principle entirely. But could 
 he dare to say how delicious this particular He was to 
 himself — and desperately thrilling into the bargain. 
 For it really needed a mighty effort to stand there, with 
 the watch in his hand pointing eight o'clock precisely, 
 and call out boldly — or as boldly as he might — " Half- 
 past ! " No, the question was far too compHcated for 
 Old Poulsen to explain with any satisfaction. It must 
 be his master's affair. 
 
 " There, there, Uttle Hedvig. Don't let's quarrel now 
 — don't let's quarrel about it. I didn't mean anything
 
 134 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 unkind. But do remember now another time — not all 
 that noise. Remember another time. I'm an old man, 
 my dear. . . . Well, well ! . . ." 
 
 Toldforvalter van Haag reached out for his watch 
 beside the bed. Eight o'clock. Good Old Poulsen — 
 trustworthy old soul ! Factory whistles and clanging 
 of church clocks now, as if confirming the fact under 
 oath. Hr. van Haag leaned back contentedly among 
 his pillows. He had contrived for himself a withered 
 little pleasure by that arrangement. Poulsen came up 
 and said half-past eight, and still he could stay in bed 
 another half-hour without being late. Autocrat. Even 
 time itself moved at his command. 
 
 Twenty minutes later. Hr. van Haag is sitting up 
 now, with eyes wide open. He is not in need of sleep — 
 he is simply waiting for the half-hour to pass. If he got 
 up now, it would be so much wasted. He will not even 
 unfasten his moustache-band before the time. A thought 
 comes into his head, and he looks round. There in the 
 other bed Ues Fru Clara, red and white with sleep, her 
 masses of brown hair loose over the pillow. So rich it 
 looked, as if it had grown thus in the night. Who knows 
 but perhaps Hr. van Haag has some thought of his own 
 anent the loveliness of that hair. Certainly there is no 
 trace of any emotion to be seen in his face, but he keeps 
 his Toldforvalter-glance in that direction, gazing with a 
 certain intensity, for a few seconds later Fru Clara's 
 left eyehd glides languidly aside, just once, revealing 
 something black and white — a mystery in black and 
 white ... A thousand times more — a glance ! 
 
 The eyelid droops again over its black and white. 
 Something like a smile creases Hr. van Haag's moustache- 
 band for a moment and shows in his eyes. But Fruen 
 acts her httle part as ever, making that glance a lie with
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 135 
 
 her admirable feigning of sleep. Listen ! She breathes 
 a sigh — a sigh of uttermost drowsiness. Daylight and 
 life are unspeakably indifferent to her — see, she writhes 
 still closer down among the pillows. A lock of hafr 
 tickles her face ; how sleepily, unconsciously, her hand 
 pats it aside. At last, in sullen helplessness, she manages 
 to turn over on the other side, sighs once more, and 
 relapses into sleep . . . sleep. 
 
 Hr. van Haag gets out of bed and walks with his 
 unassailably natural air to the washstand and back 
 again. Then, having put on his trousers, he makes a few 
 jerks this way and that with arms and legs. This is 
 health exercise. Fruen sleeps on, more soundly than 
 before ; he may turn round suddenly as he pleases, but 
 no more glimpses now of a mystery in black and white. 
 Well, well ... he starts talking to himself. If anyone 
 cares to listen, they may. Each word seems drawn 
 through his nose as by a string. 
 
 " If it keeps fine to-day we must have my things out 
 to be brushed and beaten. They want looking to badly." 
 
 Not a bad opening this. It takes a good deal to lie 
 still and be fast asleep instead of saying, " Never you 
 mind about the things. They were thoroughly brushed 
 last Friday ; you know that well enough." 
 
 " And she can call me when she's done them. Her 
 fingers are all thumbs, that girl. I'll have to put them in 
 the press myself. The way they were creased last time 
 was disgraceful. And the grey pair with the fine check 
 she'd better leave out, while I think of it. Weiszs will 
 very Ukely be round this afternoon to tea." 
 
 Another excellent shot. Had Hr. van Haag's eyes 
 been a Uttle sharper, he might have discerned a slight 
 change of colour in the cheeks of his sleep-encastled 
 spouse. It was a searching test indeed, to refrain from
 
 136 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 waking up and giving vent to indignation and disgust 
 in suitable retort. Such as, for instance, " Oh, very 
 well, then ! If you must have those two imbeciles to tea 
 again, you can entertain them by yourself ! I shall be 
 out this afternoon. At my friend Egholm's, if you want 
 to^know ! " 
 
 But Fru Clara thrust aside temptation. Her husband 
 put on his necktie, and continued : 
 
 " There aren't many people of standing in the place ; 
 we must make the most of those there are. Weiszs are 
 going to the Tyrol in the spring ; we might go with them 
 part of the way." 
 
 More inward struggle for Fru Clara. But by now it 
 was close on ten minutes to nine, when her lord and 
 master took his morning cup of tea. He knew it, and 
 made the most of the time remaining. 
 
 " Yes, I'll have the hght grey, if you please, my dear. 
 If I can get through with these accounts in time, I'll 
 come up this afternoon, but I can't be sure. It doesn't 
 matter as far as I'm concerned, but I was thinking you 
 must need a little recreation after your lamplighters and 
 photographers, and Heaven knows who else it is you're 
 always fussing about. Yes, the grey pair with the hght 
 check." 
 
 Still no awakening. Hr. van Haag creaked once 
 across the room and back, gathering force for a new 
 attack. 
 
 " The photographer man at any rate you will have to 
 give up. / won't have it I You simply can't go visiting 
 at your servant's house. I declare you smell of the 
 place every time you've been there. I've noticed it. 
 Moreover, I understand he was formerly in the State 
 service — something on the railway. And as an official 
 in the service of the State myself, I cannot^ and as your
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 137 
 
 husband, I will not have you mixing famiharly — in- 
 volving me — with this — this — rag-and-hone merchant \ " 
 
 That did it. In a moment she was sitting upright in 
 bed, her cheeks flushed hotly, her face dark and devihsh 
 under the wealth of hair. Her white, clenched hands were 
 raised quivering above her head, dangerous looking, for 
 all the softness of the lace at her wrists. She drew one 
 breath to the full. He had wrung a cry from her, and 
 wakened those black-and-white eyes to a look. 
 
 " Go ! Get away with you ! Out of my sight — do 
 you hear ? Rag-and-bone merchant, you say — ah, and 
 you're not ? No ; with your trousers creased in a line. 
 Rag-and-bone merchant — is that the worst you can find 
 to say of a man ? Ah, but I know something worse than 
 that! You didn't say: ' Egholm's just like me.' That 
 would have been an insult if you like. Did you hear me ? 
 But you mark my words, you can stop your supercihous 
 airs. I'm not going to stand this sort of thing any 
 longer ; talking and talking at me morning and night. 
 I'll go away altogether. Ah, you think you're safe, 
 don't you ? — think you've cut me off, now that I've put 
 aU my money into a single hopeless speculation. Yes, 
 educating you. It was for that I took you with me 
 everywhere we went. Did you think it was for the 
 pleasure of your company ? Haha ! But I won't stay 
 here like this. And there are plenty of places I can 
 go to, even if I haven't any money. And, anyhow, I 
 won't sleep in the same room with you. You must be 
 mad, I think, the way you lie there talking to yourself in 
 the dark, and in the morning while I'm asleep. I wake 
 up, and there you are talking away in that horrible office 
 voice. And another thing ! I won't hear a single word 
 against Egholm. I forbid you so much as to think his 
 name. Or if you do, then think the truth, and that is
 
 138 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 that you've him to thank for keeping me here at all ! 
 Do you hear what I say ? " 
 
 The last question was entirely justified, for Hr, van 
 Haag was completing his toilet without so much as a 
 quiver of the hand. At the moment he was examining 
 closely in a hand-glass the tiny wart at one corner of his 
 mouth ; it appeared to interest him deeply. Fruen 
 tugged and tore at her clothes ; her nightdress slipped 
 from her shoulders. But when he Hfted his eyes and 
 looked at her, she cowered down, shivering, again, with 
 the coverlet up to her chin. And then she found more 
 to say. 
 
 " Egholm and I were just as good as lovers once, you 
 may remember. And we might be the same again! Do 
 you hear ? Again and again. And you'd have to put 
 up with it ! " 
 
 Hr. van Haag had finished ; just one thing more. . . . 
 He opened the window and drew his breath deeply three 
 times. Breathing exercises. 
 
 Fni Clara sank back helplessly. No fire can make 
 impression on a fog. Tearfully she said : 
 
 " And if you go dragging any of your horrible people 
 up here, it's your own affair. Fm ill, and shan't get 
 up. . . ." 
 
 She crept down among the bedclothes again and 
 actually groaned. But after a few minutes she sits up 
 again and shakes her head. Then, getting out of bed, 
 she stands for a moment in thought ; goes over to the 
 window — not the one he had used ; that was unclean — 
 but to the other. Here she can let in good salt sea air — 
 strengthening air. She throws back her head and is 
 lovely to see. Then she shps her garments from her, 
 and is no less lovely on that account. She steps into 
 the bath, and presses clear cold water from a big sponge
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 139 
 
 over her body, lots and lots of water, sending the blood 
 to her heart, making her forget all ugly things. With 
 youthful, natural dehght she falls to playing with the 
 water, letting a stream trickle down between her eyes and 
 find its way down her as it will in rivulets and cascades. 
 Clouds on the mountain-top, she thinks to herself, and 
 raining in the valley. And she laughs. 
 
 Hr. van Haag is possibly thinking the same. He 
 has opened the door and is looking on interestedly, 
 though he does not laugh. But no, he can hardly be 
 thinking that, for his wanderings among mountains with 
 snow-white peaks have left no memories behind save of 
 sore feet. 
 
 The draught from the open door makes her turn. 
 
 " Standing there spying ! " she says bitterly. 
 
 " The grey with the light check ; don't forget," says 
 Hr. van Haag in his most casual drawl. 
 
 " Light check — ah yes, I shan't forget. I'll give you 
 a receipt for the order — there ! " 
 
 And there is the sponge like a big, heavy bird, full in 
 his face. 
 
 Hr. van Haag closes the door and goes out in the 
 kitchen to dry himself. A minute after, on the stroke 
 of nine, he creaks down the stairs to his office. 
 
 So much might happen in an hour in the little Toldbod 
 at Knarreby. And albeit Toldforvalteren had but a 
 little dry and withered brain, there was only one thing 
 of it all that was outside his calculations — to wit, the 
 sponge, which upset the elegant curve of his moustache 
 entirely. All the rest he had himself brought about by 
 simple means. He could do it all over again to-morrow, 
 if he liked. And he very Hkely would. It was really 
 entertaining to see Fru Clara acting her part. He might 
 try again this very afternoon. What would she say, now,
 
 140 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 if he were to ask Kobmand Lund and his daughter round 
 to tea as well ? Lund was quite a respectable man, with 
 a certain position in the place — a man, moreover, who 
 knew how to treat an of&cial in the State service with 
 proper respect. Yes . . . yes, he would ask them. 
 And tell her about it at dinner. A fine idea. Lund, he 
 knew, was the one man she detested more than any 
 other. 
 
 Thus boys of a certain type will sprinkle a cat with 
 parafiin and set it alight, innocently desirous of observing 
 the effects. 
 
 But Fru Clara received the news, with curious in- 
 difference. 
 
 The table was faultlessly laid, as usual, with a vase 
 of flowers. Outside, the Belt lay blue and gleaming ; its 
 wave-reflections flickered on the ceiUng above them. 
 Hr. van Haag sat at one end of the table, his wife at the 
 other. Fruen had secretly had an extra flap put in the 
 table, increasing the distance between them. Almost 
 a stone's-throw away they were now. But near enough 
 still for words to be flung with dire effect. 
 
 " See there are plenty of lemons, will you ? Last 
 time we ran out — it was very awkward indeed." 
 
 No answer — of course. But neither was there any 
 quiver of the hand, and this was strange. 
 
 " We shall want five or six lemons, at least. Lund 
 and his daughter are coming as well. Lund the draper, 
 you know. Quite an intelligent fellow — man of the 
 world." 
 
 Still nothing happened. Hr. van Haag did not 
 venture to raise the topic of Egholm, fearing lest his 
 wife's soup-plate might go the way her sponge had gone 
 that morning. 
 
 No, Fruen made no answer to this or to any of
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 141 
 
 the little sharp-edged remarks that followed ; she had 
 formed her resolution, which was to go round to 
 Egholm's and stay there till late in the evening. If it led 
 to a scene, well and good, let it ! Her purpose gave her 
 strength ; so much so that she even felt able to spend 
 an hour at her piano after the meal. And her good 
 humour was perhaps augmented by the knowledge that 
 her playing would disturb Hr. van Haag at his afternoon 
 nap. 
 
 But then, just as she was going out, came a message 
 that Weiszs could not come — a visitor had just arrived 
 and they could not get away, said the maid, with many 
 compliments and apologies. 
 
 " Oh, how terrible ! " cried Fruen, in mock dismay. 
 " You really ought to break such news more gently. A 
 visitor, you say ? " 
 
 " Well, yes, it's somebody from Copenhagen, just in 
 by the train. Engineer, I think he is — and mistress's 
 cousin. And mistress was that put out about it, but 
 seeing it was her cousin ..." 
 
 "An engineer? Really! You don't know his name ? 
 Was it Sveidal, by any chance ? " 
 
 " Yes — Sveidal ; that was the name on his bag." 
 
 " Go back and tell them to come round and bring 
 their visitor with them — if he's not too tired. Say I 
 should be dehghted, and they must come." 
 
 Hedvig, Hstening, stared open-mouthed as her 
 mistress ran to the window and called once more after 
 the girl : 
 
 " Say I shall be very disappointed if they don't 
 come, all three of them ! " 
 
 Fru Weisz herself was no less astonished when she 
 received the message. 
 
 Fru Weisz could never forget her first visit at the
 
 142 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 Haags' — she had called first, seeing that Fru van Haag, 
 apparently oblivious of what was the proper thing, had 
 neglected to call upon her. Fru van Haag had suddenly 
 clasped her hands to her head and said, " For Heaven's 
 sake don't laugh like that ; it sounds like wailing over a 
 corpse ! " A moment after, she had offered a thousand 
 apologies — she was dreadfully nervous at times, she 
 explained. But it was impossible to forgive a thing 
 like that ! 
 
 A little after four the guests arrived. First Lund 
 and his daughter — or, rather, Lund's daughter and Lund, 
 he being, as it were, a trifle she had chanced to bring along, 
 despite the fact that he had evidently plundered his stock 
 to fill himself out and look spick and span. His gloves 
 were bursting at the seams with newness, his raincoat 
 rasped like sand-paper at every step, and one of his 
 galoshes had a cardboard ticket with the price on dangling 
 from one side. Minna was a tall and ample young lady 
 of commanding presence. Only when she expressed her 
 thanks for the invitation did she show a touch of some- 
 thing approaching servility in her voice and her watery 
 blue eyes. 
 
 " Quite astounded, I assure you," quacked out Lund. 
 " Thought it must be a mistake — qjiack ! " 
 
 Minna took a step back, edging her father in between 
 the coats in the rack and suppressing him. 
 
 There was nothing particularly palatial about the 
 rooms at the Toldbod, but the two visitors considered 
 them so, and felt it their duty to express their admiration 
 for every chair before sitting down. 
 
 " Look there, Minna — that carpet's genuine Smyrna. 
 Genuine. I've always held it a mark of real culture to 
 have genuine Smyrna carpets. We've got them at home. 
 Yes, I've always said it's a matter of duty, when you're
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 143 
 
 in the business, to lead the way. It's not a bad advertise- 
 ment, you know, when you can say, ' It's what we use 
 ourselves.' See what I mean ? Allow me, Frue, I'U 
 just have a look . . . real genuine Smyrna, yes . . . no, 
 halt a minute, though, not quite . . . no, that it's not. 
 But a beautiful piece of work, all the same. Now, would 
 it be rude to ask what you gave for it ? Oh yes, 
 there's Minna nudging me to be quiet, I know. But 
 all the same, I'd like to know. I'm interested in these 
 things." 
 
 " The carpets ? I don't know, Hr. Lund. I never 
 can remember figures." 
 
 " Ninety Kroner ? " 
 
 " Ninety ? I don't know, really; can't remember." 
 
 " No, no, of course — no business of mine, really. But 
 I'm interested in these things. . . . And you need not be 
 afraid of telling me, you know . . . heh ! " And Hr. 
 Lund endeavours to restrain a very confidential smile. 
 
 Fru van Haag had turned herself upside down to-day. 
 She went round the house with them, showing her pos- 
 sessions untiringly. She would even have shown them 
 over the bedroom, only the door was locked. Hr. van 
 Haag was in there — had been for over an hour — busy 
 with the perfection of his toilet. 
 
 They settled down for the time being in Fru Clara's 
 blue room. Minna flung wide her arms at sight of the 
 piano, and exclaimed, " Magnificent ! — charming ! — 
 delightful ! — splendid ! " and any other high-sounding 
 words she could hit on. She had a grand herself, but not 
 that make ; no, not precisel}^ the same . . . 
 
 " My daughter teaches singing, you know," put in 
 Lund. " Six pupils, isn't it, now ? " 
 
 " Eight," corrected Minna gently. 
 
 " Ah, you're counting those two — that won't do !
 
 144 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 I only reckon the ones that pay. The apprentice and the 
 charwoman — no, you can't count them, my dear ! " 
 
 " Wlio's talking about money ? A pupil's a pupil, I 
 suppose," said Minna, flushing right up under her fair 
 hair. 
 
 " I've only one pupil myself," said Fru van Haag. 
 " She's learning the piano. And I generally have to pay 
 her to come to lessons at all ! " 
 
 " Ah, that's Hedvig Egholm," said Lund the om- 
 niscient. " We've heard of Fruen's noble generosity in 
 that quarter." 
 
 Hr. van Haag came creaking in, newly creased and 
 beaten and brushed, smoothed and dyed and generally irre- 
 proachable. At the same time, the postmaster and his 
 wife appeared, leading a tall man. Engineer Sveidal, who 
 stretched out a big red paw in all directions, and doubled 
 himself up in the middle whenever anyone grasped it. 
 Lund walked round him once, studying his knickers ; 
 thought for a moment of making inquiries on the spot 
 as to price and place of origin, but gave it up ; after aU, 
 no demand for that sort of goods in Knarreby. Minna 
 held the red paw in her own for a moment, pressing it 
 generously, promisingly, with her elbow cocked up in 
 fashionable style, but, seeing that he did not look up, 
 and only stood there like an extinguished hghthouse, 
 she turned up her nose and dropped his hand like a dead 
 thing. A little after, the engineer had found a seat, 
 with his knees high up, in the lowest chair in the room. 
 
 Hedvig handed round tea and biscuits and marmalade. 
 The gentlemen took their tea with a dash of rum. Hr. 
 van Haag and his friend the postmaster were fraternising 
 over a little table. They did not speak, but sat clearing 
 their throats alternately at long intervals, and scrutinising 
 each other's clothes. Postmaster Weisz was hopelessly
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 145 
 
 behind in the race. Here was van Haag with a waistcoat 
 of entirely new and unfamiliar cut — certainly none of 
 the three local tailors had any idea of turning out a 
 waistcoat that fashion. Ugh, no, of course not ! Post- 
 master Weisz had endeavoured to compete in other fields. 
 He had bought himself a bicycle, and was looking forward 
 to the sight of Hr. van Haag snaihng ignominiously 
 behind him. But what did Hr. van Haag do then ? 
 He refrained from exposing himself to ignominy, and 
 did not buy a bicycle at all ! Now, what could one do with 
 a man like that ? 
 
 Lund had endeavoured once or twice to quack himself 
 edgewise into the conversation, but as the two gentlemen 
 ignored him, he was reduced to making himself pleasant 
 to the engineer and the ladies. 
 
 " So we've an engineer in our midst ? Well, now, 
 really. Knarreby's getting quite an important place. 
 I made a bad guess the first time I saw you, just as you 
 came by — my shop's midway down the street, as near 
 as can be ; I don't know if you noticed it ? Two rain- 
 coats hanging outside. That is to say, there's only one 
 there now — hehe ! No ? Well, never mind. I was 
 standing just inside the window — but you didn't notice 
 me, perhaps ? No — you need not say no ; I'm quite 
 aware I can be seen from outside when I'm in the window 
 — hehe ! But never mind ... I saw you. And I 
 made a bad guess the first time — thought you were a 
 tourist. Then afterwards I found out you were an 
 engineer, a cousin of Fru Weisz's, and ... in a word, 
 all the rest of it." 
 
 " I suppose I am a tourist, in a way," said the 
 engineer, lifting his head with an effort. 
 
 " A tourist ... in a way ? " repeated Lund, with 
 careful precision. 
 
 lO
 
 146 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 >> 
 
 " Ye— es. 
 
 Frk. Minna sent her father a chilling glance, where- 
 upon he hastened to say : 
 
 " Yes — yes, of course. I understand — yes. In a 
 way, of course. ..." 
 
 He pondered over it for quite a while. 
 
 " Help yourselves, do, ladies and gentlemen. 
 Hedvig, let us have some more tea. Somebody's been 
 praising your things, Hedvig. Aren't you glad ? " 
 And Fru van Haag managed to pinch Hedvig's arm 
 as she passed, as a sign of confidential relations between 
 them. 
 
 Fru Weisz kept on with biscuits and marmalade till 
 she gasped ; Minna, on the other hand, took sparingly 
 of everything, out of regard to her figure. The only 
 thing she allowed herself without restraint was cigarettes, 
 which were not fattening. 
 
 " And why didn't you come earlier, Hr. Sveidal, 
 when everything was so much lovelier and nicer ? " said 
 Fr0ken Lund. 
 
 Sveidal stared uncomprehendingly — Minna had 
 waved her hand as if suggesting that " everything " 
 referred to herself, her heart, that had been lovelier 
 once upon a time. 
 
 But Lund was smarter, and put in : 
 
 " My daughter means the situation — the situation 
 here, you know, is far more impressive in the height of 
 
 summer." 
 
 " Situation — you with your situation," said Fru 
 Weisz in a moment of impatience. She had discovered 
 she could eat no more. 
 
 " Our situation's really quite nice — for a little place 
 like this. Don't you think so, Hr. Sveidal ? " said 
 Minna.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 147 
 
 " Well, I — er — I haven't seen much of it as yet, you 
 know. But if you think so, Freken, of course ..." 
 
 " Oh, how can you ? " said Minna archly, flinging her- 
 self back in her chair. 
 
 " Ah, he's one of the right sort, that know how to 
 say pretty things to the ladies," put in Lund dehghtedly. 
 
 Fru Weisz uttered a scornful sort of sound, but Fru 
 van Haag, seeing her chance, put in a word. 
 
 " Come along, Hr. Sveidal, and let me show you the 
 view from here. It's the finest in the town, I will say 
 that, without boasting." 
 
 The engineer rose awkwardly, and walked to the 
 window, but as Fru Weisz, ever on her guard, was pre- 
 paring to follow, Fru Clara said : 
 
 " It's best really from the back — this way." And 
 drawing Hr. Sveidal through into the kitchen, she closed 
 the door behind them. 
 
 " You are going to call on a man here named 
 Egholm ? " 
 
 The engineer was astonished, and appeared even 
 more so. 
 
 " The Minister wrote me about it," went on Fru 
 Clara, fixing him with her commanding eyes. " Now, 
 I want you to do me a favour. Come up here and talk 
 to me before you go to Egholm's, Will you ? Here — 
 that's the Minister's letter." 
 
 " Yes, yes, of course — since you're in his confidence. 
 But — really, you know, my business here is a secret." 
 
 " Thank you," said Fru Clara. 
 
 Engineer Sveidal felt like an unwilling participant 
 in some conspiracy ; he looked confused, and could give 
 but the vaguest report of any view when he returned 
 to the drawing-room. 
 
 Fru Weisz signalled to her husband.
 
 148 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 Fni Clara smiled contentedly, and said to Hedvig : 
 
 " It's going on splendidly." 
 
 Then suddenly, glancing out over the harbour, she 
 perceives the Uttle island steamer just putting in, and 
 passengers coming ashore. There are barely half a dozen 
 — the season is nearly over. One of them is a little stout 
 man, who trips down the gangway on small feet, and 
 stands looking helplessly about him, Fru Clara flutters 
 down the steps like a bird, and plants herself in front 
 of him. 
 
 " Goddag, Goddag, Professor Juhl ! " 
 
 The httle gentleman feels in his breast pocket, takes 
 out a case which he opens with a snap, and sets a pair of 
 gold-rimmed glasses on his nose. This done, he allows 
 himself to break into a smile, and says : 
 
 " Well, my dear, here I am, you see ! " 
 
 " Welcome ! But where on earth have you come 
 from by that little steamer ? " 
 
 The Professor makes a grimace, and waves his hand 
 as if indicating that he has come from somewhere or 
 other quite immaterial to the business in hand. 
 
 " Did you write ? I've had no word from you." 
 
 " No. What was there to write about ? Have you 
 anything to eat in the house ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, my dear Professor." 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " What ? Oh, everything. How should I know ? " 
 
 " H'm. Perhaps I ought to have written, after all," 
 says the Professor darkly to himself. 
 
 " But you can have whatever you like for supper. 
 Just say what you'd fancy." 
 
 " Can I ? Good. Then I'll have some of the fish 
 out of that water there. Fried eels — that's what I'll 
 have."
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 149 
 
 " Come along with me and you shall hear me tell 
 the maid yourself." 
 
 " Hedvig," says Fru Clara as soon as they are up- 
 stairs, " here's a Professor who wants fried eels for 
 supper." 
 
 " Right ! " says Hedvig smartly. 
 
 The Professor sees the future bright before him. 
 " Nice girl, that. Charming girl," he says, as he hangs 
 up his coat. 
 
 " But — who's that in there ? " he goes on suddenly, 
 starting at the sound of voices within. 
 
 " Oh, only a few harmless creatures — my husband's 
 one." 
 
 " No ! " says the Professor, stamping his Uttle feet 
 obstinately on the carpet. 
 
 Fru Clara had herself thought of sparing her new 
 guest and hiding him away till the others had gone. 
 But now she feels a devihsh impulse to " mix the 
 drinks." Accordingly, calling up her never-failing 
 womanly power, she steps briskly ahead, and utters the 
 one word : 
 
 " Nonsense ! " 
 
 The Professor gives way, but, before entering, he 
 steps back stealthily to the kitchen door and whispers 
 hoarsely : 
 
 " Fat ones ! " 
 
 " Of course," says Hedvig, 
 
 " Charming girl ! Charming ! " 
 
 A sigh of wondering admiration went through the 
 room as Fru Clara introduced the newcomer : 
 
 " Professor Hans Juhl. My old teacher and 
 friend." 
 
 All knew him by name and reputation — and each 
 contrived to mention the fact on being introduced.
 
 150 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 Lund, however, must have been distrait for the moment, 
 for he croaked teacher and friend — dehghtful, yes. Had 
 it not been for a decided talent for business he would 
 have studied Latin and Greek himself. . . . 
 
 " It was music," said the Professor. 
 
 " No, really ? And so you are musical, too ? In 
 your spare time, I suppose ? " 
 
 At this the Professor took out his Uttle case and 
 clicked it open ; there was silence in the room while he 
 adjusted his glasses and looked about him, Minna was 
 fortunately \vithin foot's reach of her father, and re- 
 strained him from further comment for the present. 
 
 There was a certain difficulty, after this, in resuming 
 conversation. The topic of Knarreby and its enviable 
 " situation," in comparison with other less favoured 
 spots, was again taken up, and the Professor was invited 
 to express his opinion. 
 
 " Yes," he agreed. " Beautiful. Quite remarkably 
 so. Woods running down right to the water's edge — 
 beechwoods. Don't find them abroad so much. True 
 Danish landscape." 
 
 " Just what I say," put in Lund eagerly. " Do you 
 know what the editor wrote only this spring : ' The woods 
 are our treasury, and should be guarded with care.' " 
 
 " Treasure," corrected Minna. 
 
 " Not a bit of it. Treasury, he said. We've two 
 woods here " — Lund thrust his hands into his jacket 
 pockets — " and they're as good as cash in hand." 
 
 Lund looked round in search of approval. Fru van 
 Haag gave him an encouraging nod. 
 
 The Professor resumed, in a slightly altered tone : 
 
 " And the water, salt and bracing, and so clear. 
 The steamer kept close in to land just outside here, and 
 I could see the bottom all the way ; pure white sand
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 151 
 
 with coppery-blue starfish here and there. Wonderful ! 
 And brown weed growing up Uke thick violin strings, 
 but soft and hving. An altogether remarkable sight — I 
 shall never forget it, I'm sure. And do you know ? — in 
 among the weeds were fish. Big fish, I assure you. I 
 had my glasses on, and could see them. Eels, they were. 
 I saw two or three of them, huge things, as thick as my 
 wrist." 
 
 Fru van Haag and the Professor exchanged a glance 
 of cordial understanding. 
 
 " Really ? Remarkable ! Most interesting ! " cooed 
 the hsteners round. They drew themselves up in 
 their chairs ; the eels and starfish seemed as it were 
 ennobled by this gracious notice on the part of a real 
 Professor. 
 
 Hr. van Haag cleared his throat and began to speak, 
 giving out his words slowly, one by one : 
 
 " Most remarkable thing I've ever seen is the fog 
 they have in London. Imagine yourself shut up — what 
 shall I call it ? — rolled up in a huge mass of cotton-wool — 
 damp, clammy cotton-wool, that chokes the breath out 
 of you and bUnds you. You can hear footsteps here 
 and there, but never see a soul You hear a cart coming 
 along, and start to get out of the way, but can't see a 
 yard this way or that, and dare not move a step. Terrible, 
 I assure you. I walked with my hand stretched out in 
 front of me, and three times I ran up against somebody 
 else's hand — clammy hands Hke a corpse. And never 
 saw a soul — I just happened to think of it now. ..." 
 
 " Ah, Toldforvalteren, he's been everywhere you can 
 think of," said Httle Lund, turning to the Professor. 
 " If only some of us could have travelled about like 
 that, eh ? London — weU, and why not ? I know some- 
 thing about the place myself : ' London Fashion ' —
 
 152 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 that's what it says inside the hats sometimes — it 
 means, the same fashion that's fashionable in 
 London." 
 
 Fru van Haag turned to her husband gently : 
 
 " Do tell us some more about your adventure in 
 London, in the fog ? " 
 
 " Yes, do, please, Hr. van Haag — it's so exciting ! " 
 
 " No, really — I can't remember all the details. . . ." 
 
 " Yes — don't you remember, you got into a milliner's 
 place at last, and sat in a back room nursing the baby 
 while they went to fetch a cab for you ? " 
 
 Unearthly silence. Then Hr. van Haag's voice, 
 almost too calmly protesting : 
 
 " You are making a mistake, my dear ; it was you, 
 not me." 
 
 " Oh yes, of course, now I think of it. How very 
 stupid of me ! Dreadful, I'm sure." 
 
 And Fruen's rich, deep voice choked in a whinnying 
 laugh. 
 
 Now, what was she going on hke this for, in such 
 an affected fashion ? Did she imagine it was possible 
 to make a skeleton blush, or close its dead eye-sockets ? 
 A foolish notion on the part of wise Fru Clara. She 
 ought not to have been surprised at her husband's thus 
 annexing her London fog by a cold-blooded steal. He 
 had done the same thing times out of number before — 
 stolen her feehngs and imagination, and repeated them 
 as his own. Every word that he had heard her say at 
 the time, when the experience was fresh in her mind. 
 And now he kept the whole chamber of horrors in a sort 
 of mummified condition, and served it up without wink- 
 ing on every possible occasion. Horrors ? Huh ! What 
 did he know of horrors ? Would a skeleton be afraid 
 of the dead ? He had been in London, of course, and
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 153 
 
 seen a fog, but he had certainly not paid any attention 
 to it beyond putting on his galoshes and a mackintosh. 
 
 Said Postmaster Weisz : " Yes. ... My wife and 
 I were only in Norway once, but ..." 
 
 " Oh, you with your Norway," cried Fru Weisz 
 irritably. " Who do you suppose cares for Norway ? 
 Do you think the Professor would count Norway for 
 traveUing ? And Fm sick of Norway. And the abomin- 
 able coffee you get there. ..." 
 
 " But we may be going with the van Haags to 
 the South — to the Tyrol, you know," said her husband 
 mildly. 
 
 " Only in Norway ? " said the Professor. Whereupon 
 Minna Lund struck in, with intense feehng : 
 
 " / simply love Norway ! And, father, you know 
 you've promised we should ..." 
 
 " Promised — promised ... a self-supporting young 
 woman Hke you. ... My daughter has eight or ten 
 pupils of her own — singing lessons, you know. At one 
 Krone the lesson." 
 
 " You sing, then, Froken Lund ? " put in Sveidal. 
 
 " Yes, she does. Ah, that woke you up. Engineer, 
 what ? Ten pupils at four Kroner a month — that's 
 four hundred and eighty Kroner a year. Yes, young 
 people nowadays ..." 
 
 Minna responded to Hr. Sveidal with perfect correct- 
 ness and not a trace of excitement : 
 
 " I sing a little, yes." 
 
 " A httle ! " came in protest from the company, 
 her father included. He, of course, would be in a position 
 to know. 
 
 " Froken Minna must give us a song," commanded 
 Fru van Haag. 
 
 Little Lund vetoed the motion. Seeing there was a
 
 154 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 Professor of Music present, it would not become his 
 daughter to thrust herself forward. He sat up stiflBy 
 in his chair and nodded decisively round, his brown eyes 
 glittering behind his glasses. No ; the Professor should 
 play for them. Not a word ! Honour where honour 
 was due ! 
 
 Now, as it happened, Professor Hans Juhl had been 
 sitting in a state of dread, from the moment he entered the 
 room, lest anyone should ask him to play. If they did, 
 he would sternly refuse, and take himself off at once. 
 He — play for an audience of four or five silly people ? 
 Never. He couldn't do it. But all this nervous inward 
 struggle had sapped his strength. And as a result 
 came the remarkable spectacle of Professor Hans 
 Juhl, rising, on this single invitation, stroking his fore- 
 head, and crossing over at a sort of jog-trot to the piano 
 in the adjoining cabinet, whither he had been gazing all 
 the time as if hypnotised. 
 
 He sat down, his arms drooping limply at his sides. 
 Then he played. 
 
 A short, brilliant piece, and his arms dropped Umply 
 again. But his audience of seven applauding, he came 
 to life again, visibly encouraged, and nodded sideways 
 in the confidential manner he affected on the concert 
 platform. He felt, no doubt, as if the seven were a real 
 audience — a crowded hall. Now he frowned — drawing 
 down his eyebrows Uke a pair of shutters between himself 
 and the world. 
 
 He played for a long while now, making no pauses, 
 only nodded, rose, opened or lowered the cover — and 
 played once more. 
 
 All was quiet around him. There was clapping when 
 Hans Juhl let his arms drop, a sighing, and silence, that 
 not a single note should be lost. Once, when he moved
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 155 
 
 a piece of music that lay near, Fru Clara leaned over to 
 see what it was, and in doing so, forgot herself to the 
 unheard-of extent of laying one hand on her husband's 
 knee for support. Only for a second, then she withdrew 
 her hand again. But Hr. van Haag remained sitting 
 motionless till the music was over and past. From the 
 little spot in the region of his knee-cap there went forth 
 an electric current that sent thrills through his whole 
 body, even to certain brain-cells. She had touched his 
 knee ! He pondered on the fact, and sought to draw 
 from it conclusions of far-reaching consequence. Thus 
 music may have power to charm even a publican. 
 
 Hans Juhl was all goodwill when he had finished. 
 He wiped his forehead, smiled, and declared that Fr0ken 
 Lund could not refuse them now. Not really — it was 
 a dreadful mistake to have to be pressed. And, with a 
 bow, he took her hand and led her to the instrument. 
 
 " No need to show off like that, Minna," said her 
 father. 
 
 Minna sang a Httle song, and would have retired, 
 but seeing that every one clapped, including the Pro- 
 fessor himself, she deUghtedly bade them desist, and 
 began looking through the pile of music. 
 
 " Oh, Fm afraid there are no songs there," said Fru 
 Clara, rising. 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I saw some before — here ! " 
 
 She opened the book and sang. It was Schubert. 
 Hr. Sveidal stood up, with a creaking of gaiters, and 
 placed himself immediately behind her. 
 
 " You sing, too, Hr. Sveidal ? " she asked between 
 two Lieder, bending her head back towards him. 
 
 Hr. Sveidal could not deny that he sang a little — but 
 nothing, really, compared to herself. 
 
 Little Lund was altogether beside himself by now ;
 
 156 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 he stretched out one foot and kicked the Professor on 
 the shin, pointing with head and one thumb at the pair. 
 
 Yes, really, it was Hr. Sveidal's turn now, declared 
 Minna. Hr. Sveidal really must. 
 
 " No, no — they were all too high. But perhaps . . ." 
 
 Then it was seen that Minna had eyes like fish-hooks ; 
 she thrust a hand into the darkness of the music cabinet — 
 here were some duets. She was sure Hr. Sveidal could 
 take the lower part. 
 
 " Well, yes, a little. . . ." 
 
 Followed duets, upon the theme of Love and other 
 themes, until the company sat with aching hands — 
 possibly also ears. Lund ceased his demonstrative 
 action of the thumb, and yawned slightly. The engineer 
 had a curious faculty of making all melodies seem 
 uniform. 
 
 But the duettists thanked each other and agreed it 
 was lovely. " And surely you know that one ? Oh, 
 but you ought to learn it. Come round to-morrow, 
 do," said Minna. 
 
 The party broke up, with effusively reiterated fare- 
 wells and thanksgivings. 
 
 Hr. Sveidal helped Minna on with her things. Lund 
 stood watching them, and bhnking his eyes, but tore 
 himself away. There was one thing he must ask. 
 
 " Where's the Professor got to ? " he asked, tramp- 
 ing through with his crackling raincoat into the room 
 again. 
 
 " Oh, here you are. Here, I wanted to ask you. Do 
 you know Georg Brandes ? " 
 
 " No," said the Professor. 
 
 " What ? But he's a professor, too ! " 
 
 " Is he ? Still, I'm afraid . . ." 
 
 " Because I'm an adherent of his ! "
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 157 
 
 " Really ? " said the Professor, and snapped open 
 his pince-nez case for a last glance at the little man. 
 
 Hedvig came in to report that the guest-chamber 
 was ready, whereupon Fruen took the Professor's arm 
 and led him to his room. 
 
 " Well, now," he said, " I can't manage a change of 
 clothes," pointing to his little handbag, " but a clean 
 collar. ..." He opened the bag and fumbled about 
 in it for some time, without success. " Well, there now ! 
 My wife always puts out a collar and a pair of clean cuffs 
 for me on the bed, but — in a word, they're not here now. 
 Does this look very bad ? " 
 
 " Well, yes, rather. But we'll see what Hedvig can 
 do. — Hedvig, just a minute. Look here, Hedvig, what 
 do you mean by not having a collar laid out for the 
 Professor ? What a thoughtless creature you are, to 
 be sure ! " 
 
 " Oh, how stupid of me ! " said Hedvig penitently. 
 " Fm dreadfully sorry." 
 
 " So you ought to be ! " 
 
 And a moment later came Hedvig proffering a sheaf 
 of glistening white collars. 
 
 " But the cuffs, woman ! " cried the Professor, 
 starting threateningly towards her. " Do you expect 
 le to sit down to fried eels in these ? " 
 
 " I have them," said Hedvig, springing to the door. 
 But next time, instead of coming in, she handed in the 
 cuffs from outside. 
 
 " Come in, lovely thing, and let me thank you 
 properly." 
 
 " Certainly, Hr. Professor. I've some more things 
 here, if you care about these now ? " 
 
 And there stood Hedvig with Hr. Toldforvalteren's 
 full-dress uniform on its stand — it looked like the image
 
 158 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 of a saint carried in procession — or say Hr. van Haag 
 himself emerging from beneath a steam-roller, in gold- 
 embroidered breeches, gilt sword, and three-cornered 
 hat. 
 
 " I like that girl," said the Professor. 
 
 After supper, which turned out entirely to the Pro- 
 fessor's satisfaction, Fru Clara was left alone with 
 him for a moment. He looked at her and asked 
 suddenly : 
 
 " Was that the musical monstrosity I was to meet ? " 
 
 " Who ? " 
 
 " The lady who sang such a lot." 
 
 " No, it wasn't. But what did you think of her ? " 
 
 " H'm. Voice — well, plenty of it. But Fm glad 
 she wasn't the one. To tell the truth, if there's one 
 thing more than another I do detest, it's affectation." 
 
 "Oh no ; the monstrosity's a painter, who hasn't 
 learned a note." 
 
 " Bring him along, then," said Hans Juhl, rubbing 
 his white hands together with a satisfied air. 
 
 " No, I want you to myself this evening. But to- 
 morrow, if you would — thanks." 
 
 She wrote a few lines on a visiting-card, put it in an 
 envelope, and called Hedvig in. 
 
 " A letter to go, Hedvig. This evening, please." 
 
 " To the post ? " 
 
 " No, by hand. You can take it round yourself." 
 
 Hedvig glanced at the address, blushed a fiery red, 
 and left the room. 
 
 Take it round herself — certainly not. She could 
 send one of the boys playing about outside. Still, there 
 must be something particular in the letter, so that Johan 
 Fors would understand her mistress had told her to 
 bring it herself. And perhaps it was urgent. Possibly
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 159 
 
 there might be something in it far too important to 
 entrust to a casual street boy. Still . . . Hedvig 
 came to the conclusion that she would send a boy, after 
 all. But she put on her best jacket and the smart little 
 cap her mistress had given her. She twisted round in 
 front of the glass — yes, it suited her, that cap. There 
 was a sort of breezy freshness about it. 
 
 She went out on to the steps in front of the house. 
 The shouts of children at play echoed among the tall 
 buildings. Hedvig picked out a youngster who was 
 clambering up into an empty goods waggon on a siding. 
 Would he deliver a letter ? Good, then ; here. She 
 took him alone and explained very carefully that the 
 letter was to be delivered to the addressee in person — 
 given into his own hands, that is. 
 
 " And if he's not there, then — well, then you must 
 find out where he is, and go and find him. Here's five 
 0re. You'll be coming back here to play, won't you ? 
 Then you'd better come and let me know you've 
 delivered it safely. I'll give you something more when 
 you come back. You'll find me here." 
 
 She had one hand on the boy's slight warm neck, 
 guiding him in and out between the metals of the sidings, 
 and still holding the important letter. She did not like 
 to let it go till the last minute. 
 
 And then, after the boy had repeated his instruc- 
 tions and she had given them again, who should appear 
 but Johan Fors himself, striding out from a narrow alley 
 close by. 
 
 Hedvig forgot all about the boy — almost forgot to 
 breathe — but stepped straight across the line to Johan. 
 " Godaften! How lucky you happened to come along! 
 I've a letter for you here from Fru van Haag. I was 
 just telling Oscar here where to take it. . . ."
 
 160 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 Johan Fors was carrying a violin case — a real one, 
 newly varnished and shining. 
 
 " Thanks," he said, with a smile. Then he set down 
 the vioUn case with the greatest care on the toes of his 
 boots, took out a big pocket-book, and put the letter 
 away without so much as glancing at the address. 
 " You might have brought it yourself ! " 
 
 This was an enormous mark of favour. Hedvig 
 made no answer, but turned and walked down with 
 Johan Fors towards the harbour. 
 
 " Oh, I forgot. Here, Oscar, I promised you two 0re 
 extra, didn't I ? " The boy had followed them without 
 a word. " There ! Now run away and play with the 
 others." 
 
 Hedvig and Johan were alone. 
 
 Hedvig turned her head and saw that Johan was 
 laughing as he walked. This was nice ; Hedvig 
 laughed herself. But then he stopped. It must have 
 been the letter, then, he was so pleased about it. Ah, 
 well . . . 
 
 But she could not go along like this and say nothing. 
 What should she say ? All that came into her head 
 seemed stiff and unnatural. Anyhow, she must make 
 a start. 
 
 " Are you going off somewhere to play ? " 
 
 " Yes. Ye — es." Johan managed to charge the 
 word with deep and mysterious meaning. He nodded, 
 too, with hke effect. 
 
 " It must be lovely to be able to play. I play the 
 piano, of course, a bit. But not really, Uke you." 
 
 " Well, I suppose it is — but why ? " 
 
 " Oh, because you know it pleases other people." 
 
 " H'm. I know one person who wasn't pleased 
 once. Said no, when I offered to play."
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 161 
 
 Hedvig drew herself up and said in her firmest voice : 
 " It's really very stupid of you, Johan Fors, to make 
 such a fuss about that night. Perhaps I ought to have 
 let you come up to my room, even if it was the middle 
 of the night, and I should have lost my place for a 
 certainty." 
 
 " What's a trifle hke that compared to . . ." 
 " Well, I say, perhaps I ought to have done as you 
 said. But if it was wrong of me, do you think it's 
 right of you to be so — so bloodthirsty in revenge ? Is 
 it manly, now ? " 
 
 Yes. Johan did. But there was an unmistakable 
 hesitation in his voice as he said so. 
 
 " It seems to me it's stupid to waste a whole summer 
 because of a httle thing hke that." Hedvig reaUsed the 
 moment she had spoken that she had made an un- 
 fortunate choice of words, but now it was too late. 
 " Waste ! Huh ! I haven't wasted anything." 
 " Yes, you have — you've wasted and spoiled a good 
 deal for me," said Hedvig adroitly. " But, tell me 
 honestly, now — would you rather I — I didn't go with 
 you any farther ? " 
 
 They were nearly at the harbour now. Johan had 
 a boat lying moored at a tiny landing-stage close by. 
 He was going out on one of his well-known mysterious 
 excursions, to play to himself somewhere all alone. 
 Since that conversation with Fru van Haag he had 
 practised with feverish zeal. He had bought an in- 
 struction book, learned his notes, and a great deal more. 
 The Professor should not find him altogether an ignora- 
 mus. He had thought now to walk down with Hedvig 
 as far as the Toldbod, leave her there, and go down to 
 his boat ; for to a nature such as his it was intolerable 
 to appear anything short of perfection in the eyes of 
 II
 
 162 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 another. It was thus most inconvenient that Hedvig 
 should bring up the question of accompanying him 
 farther just in that way. She wanted to go with him. 
 It was no use, then, his thinking of seeing her back to 
 the house. He forgot how often he had longed for but 
 a few moments' talk with her. He was irritated at the 
 momentary interruption of his plan. Nevertheless, her 
 clear words had not been without their effect, and he 
 strove to repress his ill-feehng. 
 
 " Go with me ? Yes, why not ? But I'm going out 
 here," he pointed with his vioUn case. 
 
 " Out in the boat, yes. But can't I go with you, 
 and hear you play ? " 
 
 Play — ^huh ! Johan had no thought of playing this 
 evening. He was going out to a hut in the woods to 
 Practise — learning to follow the silly black dots called 
 notes. The Professor had already arrived — there was 
 no time to be lost. Practise this evening, he must. 
 Surely it must be the devil himself that had sent the girl 
 with this idea of hers just now ! 
 
 " Well, all right, then. Come along ! " 
 
 He walked on ahead down the landing-stage and 
 entered the boat. Hedvig stood at the edge as if in 
 thought. She saw how he carried his violin case, hold- 
 ing it as carefully as if it had been a child, and set it 
 down under the middle seat. Soft rings showed on the 
 water round at every movement he made. Now he was 
 taking his coat off, ready to row. 
 
 " Hurry up with you ! " he commanded, sitting up. 
 
 The bow of the Uttle boat was rocking up and down 
 a few feet only from where she stood. It was tempting 
 . . . just the sUghtest httle spring, taking off with her 
 left foot, and on board. She knew how easily and surely 
 she could do it ; knew how the boat would give under
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 163 
 
 her and recover ; she had known that feel of a boat 
 since she was a child. It could not be fear that held her 
 back. But . . . there was Johan, laying his coat care- 
 fully about the new vioUn case — and he had only a 
 grudging, unfriendly word for her. Not even a hand 
 outstretched to help her on board. No, this was not 
 the joy she had looked for. 
 
 " Well, why don't you come ? " 
 
 " Good-bye, Johan Fors," said the girl quietly. 
 Then, turning, she walked slowly in towards land. She 
 could see the ripples from the boat following her as she 
 went. But when she reached the big flat stones at the 
 end of the planks, she Ufted her head and strode firmly up. 
 
 Johan sat for a moment looking after her. The 
 boat made no ripples now. Then he flung his hat down 
 on the bottom boards, cast loose, and sent the boat 
 tearing through the water.
 
 XII 
 
 FRU VAN HAAG had slept but poorly after all 
 the music of the afternoon. When Hedvig 
 came into the bedroom at ten, she sat up and 
 looked round confusedly, frowning instinctively in 
 readiness for battle. 
 
 " Oh, it's only you," she said in relief. " Is it awfully 
 late ? Ten o'clock ? Good heavens, child ! Don't say 
 the Professor's up already ? What ? Well, get every- 
 thing ready for him — but you mustn't mind if he's a bit 
 irritable in the morning. He doesn't mean it. What's 
 that ? A man ? To see me ? As if we hadn't had 
 enough people bothering lately ! Johan Fors ? 
 Heavens, yes, I told him myself to come at ten. Oh, 
 well, it's not a matter of Hfe and death. You can look 
 after him till I'm ready. Ask him in, anywhere you 
 like, and talk to him, WTiat ? Nonsense — are you 
 in my service, or are you not ? Then do as I bid you, 
 miss, if you please. Go out and entertain Johan Fors ! 
 This moment — do you hear I " 
 
 Hedvig did her best to draw up the corners of her 
 mouth and make her eyes to twinkle as in mirth. She 
 succeeded far enough to give her mistress the impression 
 that all was well. Then, going out, she ushered Johan 
 Fors into the drawing-room, and left him there. 
 
 Fru Clara took her time. It was half-past ten when 
 
 she came out into the corridor, just as the Professor was 
 
 passing. 
 
 164
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 165 
 
 " Morning, my dear lady. Yes, you were right ; 
 he is a beast," 
 
 " Oh, so you've seen him ? Yes, he is a beast, isn't 
 he ? I said so in my letter," whispered Fru Clara. 
 
 " Ah, but you said a remarkable beast. And that, 
 my dear lady, was an exaggeration." 
 
 Fru Clara noted that the Professor was in a difficult 
 mood, and merely answered : 
 
 " Come along, tea's ready. But we must invite the 
 beast, you know." 
 
 " Oh, by all means ; only, in that case we shan't 
 invite me. Or, if we do, I shan't come." 
 
 " Don't tell me Hans Juhl's turned'out a snob," 
 said Fru van Haag with conviction. She led the way 
 into the drawing-room, and the Professor, after a 
 moment's hesitation, followed. 
 
 But Fruen could not deny even to herself that she 
 found Johan Fors' appearance disappointing. She had 
 imagined him in his painting-smock, spotted with all 
 the colours of a meadow in spring,^ with his broad- 
 brimmed hat for choice, and a smeary paint-pot in one 
 hand. And now — here he was in ready-made, rather 
 ill-fitting clothes of an indefinite greenish tint, with a 
 cheap metal watch-chain, and collar and cuffs of aggres- 
 sive vulgarity. On the chair beside him was a black 
 bowler hat, a stiff, unbending " Sunday best." And 
 what, perhaps, was worst of all, the old, worn fox-skin 
 bag that had seemed so romantic was now replaced by a 
 wooden viohn case with nickel clasps. 
 
 Fie, Johan ! The one hope of salvation lay in the 
 chance that he might be coarse and amusing over his 
 tea. The Professor was the sort of 'man who would do 
 anything for those who amused him. But no ; here 
 again Fru Clara was disappointed. Johan took his tea
 
 166 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 with a trembling hand, just like any other bashful young 
 man. He ate but little, possibly he had taken care to 
 fill up before coming out. The only saving feature was 
 the enormous quantity of cream he took — but that was 
 hardly enough in itself to create a success. Even his 
 golden mane of hair had been washed and combed and 
 plastered down out of all recognition. 
 
 " Thanks ! " 
 
 " Tak for Ter " Velbekomme ! " 
 
 The Professor thrust his chair back, looked up with 
 an expression of helplessness, rose and walked to the 
 window and back once or twice, put on his glasses, and 
 cast a pleading glance at Fru Clara's face, but finding 
 no mercy there, said, with sudden harshness : 
 
 " Well, start away ! Fm ready ! " 
 
 Johan opened his case with a smart click of the 
 nickel clasps, and hoping Fruen and the Professor would 
 not fail to remark the splendid red cloth inside the case. 
 Apparently they did not notice it. Johan was abashed, 
 and did not dare to acknowledge that he had once thought 
 of getting the Professor to write out the music he com- 
 posed. An awe-inspiring glance he had, that same 
 Professor. It was something like the glance of that eye 
 painted above the altar. If the rehearsal were to be a 
 success, Johan felt he must get a httle farther out of 
 range. 
 
 He took up his vioUn and bow. And as he did so, a 
 thought more terrible than all the rest came to his mind : 
 Hedvig ! Hedvig would hear every note ! She could 
 crush him to earth with her scorn if it went off badly. 
 
 " Play ! " commanded the Professor. 
 
 No — no — he couldn't. Not here. He dared not 
 even touch the strings to tune them. 
 
 " If you'll allow me . . ." he began, twisting the
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 167 
 
 instrument round and round in his hands, " I'd like to 
 ask — if the Professor wouldn't rather go over in the 
 church and hear me there ? " 
 
 " What P In church ! Did you say in the church ? " 
 
 " Yes. It sounds better there, so if . . ." 
 
 " What the devil do you mean, man ? " cried the 
 Professor furiously, snapping open his glasses in a 
 fury. 
 
 " I mean, you can't hear properly here ; if we hadn't 
 better go over to the church. I've got the key. And 
 we'd be more by ourselves there." 
 
 " Are you an organist ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Or the parish clerk, perhaps ? " 
 
 Fruen interposed hastily, " I told you. Professor, you 
 know. He's painting the church inside." 
 
 " Appointed by the Town Council," put in Johan 
 modestly. 
 
 " And I suppose you'd like to stand and play in 
 front of the altar and have us sit in the pews to listen ? " 
 
 " No ; I generally play in the pulpit," said Johan, 
 twirling his violin once more. 
 
 The Professor stood for a moment glancing from 
 Fru Clara to Johan and back again. Errant memories 
 crowded in upon him. Oh, but he understood thoroughly 
 how Fru Clara had entered into all this ! She had 
 always had a knack of creating a sensation anywhere. 
 He called to mind strange things from the Consul's, her 
 home in Helsingor. Delightful things — most amusing 
 things. He himself, moreover, had played a leading 
 part in some of them. . . . But . . . 
 
 No ! It would not do. He was Professor Hans 
 Juhl now, with a reputation in his own country and one 
 or two others. No sensation, no cheap advertisement
 
 168 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 should sully his name. For who could be sure but 
 that something might leak out about this unprecedented 
 church concert ? 
 
 " No f " he said, stamping his little feet on the 
 carpet. " I'll give you two minutes, Master Painter. 
 If you want to play, play, and I'll hear you. If not — 
 why, it's all the same to me ! " 
 
 " Of course he will play," said Fruen, with a glance 
 of hypnotic force at Johan. 
 
 " Well, then, you'll have to go into the other room, 
 at least. I can't . . ." 
 
 The Professor took a step forward as if about to 
 strike, but Fru van Haag turned him round, took his 
 arm, and led him into the adjoining cabinet. And there 
 she held him prisoner for half an hour while Johan 
 played his masterpieces. 
 
 Strange tones poured through to them as they 
 listened. What Fruen had heard that evening in the 
 church was as nothing to what he now conjured up. 
 
 A simple Uttle melody at first, then repeated ; it 
 was easy to follow and recognise again. Like a fair- 
 haired woman, it was. What now ? The woman lets 
 down her hair ; see, she is sitting by a rushing river ; 
 her reflection is there, quivering as with emotion in the 
 water. Singing, she walks along the bank between white 
 birches. And now — now the king of the water-sprites 
 reaches out his mighty arm and draws her to him. A 
 hellish roar of foaming waters, faUing rocks, crashing 
 trees ; an avalanche of sound. . . . 
 
 Johan was scraping away on all four strings at once. 
 The Professor set his glasses straight and studied a 
 painting of some hyacinths in a vase. 
 
 Silence. Out of the rushing flood gUdes the httle 
 melody — the fair-haired woman. Lovely in death she
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 169 
 
 glides along by the green banks of the stream under 
 white birches. . . . 
 
 The music died away in tones as delicate as moon- 
 Hght. 
 
 The Professor took down the painting from the wall 
 and carried it to the window, peering to find the artist's 
 signature. 
 
 A flurry of varied notes. 
 
 " What's this one called ? " cried Fruen. 
 
 " It's from Budapest," answers the painter, without 
 stopping. 
 
 " Sounds like it," says Fruen, with a nod. 
 
 The Professor hangs up the picture on its nail again. 
 
 A new piece now, with howls and roaring and name- 
 less sounds. 
 
 " And this ? " 
 
 " Last winter. Ice in the Belt," answers Johan. 
 
 " Sounds like it," says Fruen again, with a nod and 
 a triumphant glance at the Professor, who yawns 
 slightly. 
 
 " Now for ' the Church,' " says Johan. And with 
 bow and strings he builds a mighty vault above him, 
 full of air a-quiver with the tones of an organ and the 
 clang of heavy bells. 
 
 " This is beautiful," says Fru Clara, steadfastly 
 ignoring the Professor's expression, which is unpleased 
 and unpleasing as ever. 
 
 Johan has evidently gained courage from his playing ; 
 after a few rustic dances and a thing he calls " The 
 Harbour," he tunes up again with a stubborn, self- 
 satisfied air. Then he falls to on a piece which Fruen 
 recognises as Schumann's " Abendlied." There are 
 mutilations here and there ; she sits down, placing her- 
 self between the Professor and the door, in case of any
 
 170 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 murderous onslaught from that quarter. As a matter 
 of fact, she would rather see the glow of murderous 
 lust in his eyes than boredom and yawning and sudden 
 interest in paintings on the walls. If the feeling were 
 only there, it might be kept down and converted to 
 something else. 
 
 " What do you call that ? " asks the Professor 
 suddenly. 
 
 " Anemones in the woods," answers Johan, and goes 
 on playing. 
 
 Ha ! Now it is coming ! The Professor comes 
 closer, with little, energetic steps. No, my good Hans 
 Juhl, you're not going to get past ! 
 
 But what is this ? Hans Juhl stops, bends over, 
 and whispers something. What on earth . . . what 
 is he talking about ? 
 
 " Think that girl Hedvig could manage a fowl for 
 dinner ? " 
 
 Intolerable music-murderer ! So this was what was 
 going on inside his musical soul — the finest judge of 
 music in the kingdom ! Fru Clara rose, with a sigh, 
 went through into the next room, and conveyed to Johan 
 with many thanks that that would do. The Professor 
 would think over it, and let him know. 
 
 Johan inquired if he could not speak to the Professor 
 now. 
 
 " Quite impossible," said Fruen, with a wave of the 
 hand, which somehow managed to invest the matter 
 with an air of mystery. 
 
 Johan wiped his forehead, first with his sleeve, then 
 with a neatly folded handkerchief, laid his instrument 
 back in his case, drew himself up manfully, took his 
 leave, wiped his feet carefully on the Smyrna carpet, 
 and went out.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 171 
 
 " I could have let him know at once just as well," 
 said the Professor. 
 
 " I won't hear a word till after lunch ! Come along, 
 we're going out for a walk. Through the town, or out 
 in the woods somewhere. And talk of old times. I 
 want to put you in a good humour." 
 
 " Silly nonsense," snarled the Professor. " I've 
 made up my mind, and it won't be altered." 
 
 " Come along," said Fruen, wrapping him in her 
 smile. 
 
 They walked through the town, where people rushed 
 to the windows to stare at them, with an expression of 
 curiosity almost amounting to terror ; here was a real 
 Professor walking through the streets of Knarreby. 
 All knew it ; even Etatsraaden, who came along with 
 his big dog at his heels, turned round after he had 
 passed and murmured to himself, with embellishments, 
 that it really was the Professor. 
 
 Lund the draper came out in the middle of the 
 street with some paper in his hand. 
 
 " Goddag, Hr. Professor — Hr. Professor of Music, 
 I should say. You've written two large compositions 
 and several smaller ones — yes, we know you well enough. 
 And you know me, of course." 
 
 " No, I don't," snapped the Professor. 
 
 Lund turned pale, and stammered out : 
 
 " I — I was wearing a different suit ..." 
 
 "Oh, it was you, was it ? " said the Professor, 
 answering grudgingly to the pressure on his arm. 
 
 " Ah, I knew you'd remember me," said Lund grate- 
 fully. " You took a peep at me now and again, especially 
 just as I was going. Yes, I swear you did — I saw it. 
 Saw it in the looking-glass outside in the hall. Didn't 
 know him, did you — the other professor ? But here's
 
 172 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 a cutting from a paper — a thing he wrote. Read it. 
 Yes, take it ; I'll make you a present of it. Read it 
 yourself. He's a first-rate chap, is Georg," 
 
 The Professor stood with the paper fluttering in his 
 hand, utterly at a loss. But Fru Clara took it, folded 
 it up neatly, and put it in his pocket. 
 
 " Oh, but won't you come in ? " urged Lund. " Yes, 
 do, now." 
 
 " No, thanks very much. No . . ." 
 
 " Fru Haag, do make him. You've been in my shop 
 before, now, haven't you ? " 
 
 " No, really, Hr. Lund, I'm afraid we can't . . ." 
 
 " Can't ? Oh, but really, you know. Just step 
 inside for a moment, so I can say the Professor's been 
 here. No, don't think I'm reckoning on doing business ; 
 never entered my head, I assure you. Though, to be 
 sure, there'd be no harm done, as a business man. . . . 
 No, I assure you, nothing but the purest motives. Wine 
 and cut glass all ready set out in the office at the back. 
 And in case you'd care to go upstairs, my daughter's 
 just bought two of your pieces at Dahlberg's. He sells 
 music too, you know. Two lovely, dainty little pieces 
 with a lyre and the name, ' Hans Juhl ' . . . and really 
 worth the money." 
 
 " Farvel, Hr. Lund," said Fruen. 
 
 " Oh, well, if you won't . . . Farvel, Fru Haag. 
 But it's your fault, you know, that he won't come in. 
 He'd like to, I know, and upstairs too. I can see it in 
 his face. Wouldn't you, now, Hr. Juhl ? Shake your 
 head — yes, but it's only out of pohteness, I know. 
 You're a man that knows what good breeding is, Hr. 
 Juhl. But that collar of yours is two sizes too small. 
 Read that cutting I gave you — you can let me have it 
 back any time. I collect them, you know. Sorensen,
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 173 
 
 he collects too — says they'll be worth a pot of money 
 one day. Fru Haag '11 tell you about Sorensen." 
 
 " Thanks," said Hans Juhl, when they had walked 
 on a httle way. " Thanks for keeping me out of that. 
 I can't stand any more beasts to-day." 
 
 They continued their way up to Stationsvej, with 
 the elms on either side. A wet, rich autumn breeze 
 came in from the Belt. 
 
 " Like the Sound at Helsingor," said the Professor. 
 
 " Oh, you think so, too ? " said Fru Clara joyfully. 
 
 " Well, you're here, you know. And I come by 
 boat to visit you. What can that mean but that 
 Knarreby's Helsingor and Jutland over there is 
 Sweden ? " 
 
 " There's more of Helsingor here that you haven't 
 seen yet. Look at that httle house we're just coming 
 to now." 
 
 " More of Helsingor ? How — you mean some one 
 else owns it ? Who's that, now ? " 
 
 " You'd never guess. Do you remember Kasper 
 Egholm ? He lives there now. We'll go in and look 
 him up." 
 
 " Kasper Egholm 1 " The Professor stopped sud- 
 denly. " No, not really ? Heavens — it positively 
 hurts my head to think back as far as that. He was the 
 smartest of us all, and the one you favoured most. We 
 looked down on him, I remember, because he served in 
 a shop. But we could see he was a devil of a fellow, 
 really, and we hated him because you saw it too. What 
 was it happened, after all ? I only know one fine day 
 he'd disappeared. How's the world been using him 
 since then ? " 
 
 " How does the world generally use us ? " said Fru 
 Clara.
 
 174 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " Well, I mean, has he grown handsomer, like you, 
 or rounder, like me, or . . ." 
 
 " Come in and see for yourself." 
 
 " No — here, wait a minute. Tell me first — what is 
 he now ? The house looks a funny sort of place when 
 you get close up. He's not a grocer now, is he ? 
 There's something that looks like a sign on the door 
 there. What is he ? " 
 
 " What is he ? He's a photographer ; but, apart 
 from that, he's the same devil of a fellow that he used 
 to be, I wouldn't change him for anyone. The house 
 is his own — and, look now — he's going to sell it very 
 shortly, and be a rich man. Possibly he may buy an 
 estate in the country. But come along, we'd better 
 turn back now. We must get home and see what 
 Hedvig's got for lunch. Did I teU you, by the way, 
 that Hedvig's his daughter — Egholm's ? " 
 
 The Professor felt reheved as they turned back, but 
 felt instinctively that Fruen was displeased at his re- 
 fusal. He endeavoured to make up for it now by 
 praising Hedvig. 
 
 " Aha ! Now I understand where she got that air 
 of hers, and the eyes too. It'll be interesting to see 
 her again, now I know." 
 
 " Yes," said Fru van Haag, artfully seizing her 
 chance, "and, as it happens, she's in love with Johan 
 Fors." 
 
 " Very sorry, I'm sure, but ..." 
 
 " Remember — not a word till after lunch ! " 
 
 Hr. van Haag and the Professor never met except 
 at meals. All this talk about music bored Hr. van 
 Haag beyond endurance. With others, he could manage 
 well enough with his London fog and similar remin- 
 iscences, but with the Professor, his voice sounded
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 175 
 
 curiously vague and hollow. One thing, however, he 
 did to maintain respect for himself : he changed his 
 clothes three times a day, and even appeared sometimes 
 in his new uniform. But what difference did that make ? 
 He sat as stiff and silent as before. No one bowed down 
 before his magnificence. The Professor only took out 
 his glasses when the piano was called into requisition. 
 
 Worst of all to Hr. van Haag was when these two 
 began talking gaily together, with bursts of laughter 
 over things and people utterly unknown to himself. At 
 such times he would make pretence of being busy at 
 the office, and rising, hold out his hand condescendingly, 
 which done, he would walk round to Vang's hotel, order 
 a glass of tea with rum, and enter into interesting con- 
 versation with the housekeeper, Fru Vang, old Vang's 
 daughter-in-law. She had formerly kept a boarding- 
 house of her own, and was now engaged by the new 
 Company for exploitation of the tourist market. She 
 was clever in matters relating to food and drink, and, 
 as mentioned, " interesting " to talk to. She would 
 talk to Hr. van Haag of the serving maidens — their 
 serving, it appeared, was indifferent, and their maidenly 
 virtue negligible or nil. Of the gas bill, that she had 
 managed to bring down to three Kr. less than last time. 
 Of anchovies that some diner had complained about, 
 and the dealer who refused to exchange the tin. Of her 
 husband, who had gone out fishing one day and got 
 drunk on the way out and drowned on the way back — 
 and was now, perhaps, or perhaps more Hkely not, 
 among the blest. Then by a happy transition to the 
 subject of church — she had noticed Hr. Toldforvalteren 
 in church last Sunday. Then on again to the question 
 of rehgion and conversion and other remarkable things. 
 Hr. van Haag contributed a remarkable experience
 
 176 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 of his own in London once, in one of the London 
 fogs. . . . 
 
 He had walked like this — with his hands held out 
 in front. And encountered other hands . . . thus . . . 
 
 Here he encountered — very gently — the hands of 
 Fru Vang herself, and she grasped his and gave the 
 least httle dehcate pressure before releasing them again 
 with a laugh and a smart Uttle slap— not in the least 
 with any unkindly feeUng towards Hr. Toldforvalteren, 
 and he on his part was far from taking it unkindly. 
 Fru Vang was not exactly young, but she wore very 
 high heels, wliich gave her a sort of confidential, forward 
 stoop. Hr. van Haag had noticed it, and found it 
 pleasing. Also, she wore her hair cut straight down 
 over her forehead. 
 
 Meanwhile, Fru van Haag found the moment oppor- 
 tune for ehciting the Professor's opinion with regard 
 to Johan Fors. 
 
 " Well," said Hans Juhl thoughtfully, picking up 
 his glass and roUing the last drop of his hqueur on to 
 his tongue, " tell me first of all : am I a humbug or am 
 I not ? " 
 
 " Far from it, my dear old friend." 
 
 " Good ! — I only wanted you to admit it before it was 
 too late. For — mark my words — you can be angry 
 if you hke, or call me an ungrateful thing or what you 
 please, but — Johan Fors will get no advancement out 
 of me ! " 
 
 " Need you be so hard on him for steaHng that Uttle 
 thing of Schumann's ? All the rest was original." 
 
 " It was all stolen — every bit of it." 
 
 " That won't do, Hans Juhl ! If so, whose was it ? 
 Names and titles, please, at once ! " 
 
 " I'm glad I got you to admit before that I'm no
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 177 
 
 humbug. I can't say who were the composers — and 
 yet it was all stolen, none the less. It simply comes 
 to this — the fellow has a good ear — a splendid ear — 
 and he picks up music here, there, and everywhere. 
 Then, when he gets home, he takes his fiddle and 
 plays over what's stuck in his head. But — he plays it 
 wrong ! And that's how his works are composed ! " 
 
 " I can hardly beheve it's that." 
 
 " I found it hard to believe it myself. For the first 
 ten minutes I fancied he really was an artist — there's 
 something of the artist in him certainly, but " — the 
 Professor made a grimace — " his ' compositions ' are 
 absolutely worthless ; worse than worthless, really, for 
 they would hamper him unspeakably during the long 
 years of hard work — and anyhow, he's too old to begin 
 that now. In a word — nothing to be done. I'm rather 
 annoyed at his not having stolen something from you, 
 dear Fru Clara, and edited it the same way — you'd 
 understand me better if he had." 
 
 Fru Clara raised her head as if to speak, but checked 
 herself, and sat drumming with the fingers of her left 
 hand. Then she sighed — she understood now. 
 
 Two days later the Professor went away again, 
 almost as abruptly as he had come, leaving the Toldbod 
 quiet and empty after him. Hedvig and he had become 
 great friends. He ordered her in at times from the 
 kitchen to the piano, helped her in a fatherly way, 
 stormed at her, and ended by praising her beyond all 
 bounds. He gave her pieces of music, and when he 
 had gone, there was a ten-Kroner note impaled on one 
 of her hatpins. It could not be from anyone but him- 
 self. 
 
 Fruen called Hedvig in, and said : 
 
 " Hedvig, you saw and heard Johan Fors when he 
 
 12
 
 178 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 was here the other day. Now, I've an important message 
 for him. Would you Uke to deliver it yourself ? " 
 
 " No." said Hedvig. 
 
 " Don't be so quick to say no. It's a message he 
 won't be at all pleased to get, so there's every likehhood 
 of his being glad of some one to console him." 
 
 " I'm sorry, but I can't go to him for a message." 
 
 " Has anything happened ? " 
 
 " I don't care about him any more," 
 
 Fru van Haag looked long and searchingly at the 
 girl's face as she stood there, fair and upright as ever. 
 Then, with all the brightness she could muster in her 
 voice, she endeavoured to dispel the youthful dis- 
 appointment. 
 
 " Oh, don't you ? But / do ! And he shan't have 
 just a letter that would still leave a host of little ques- 
 tions in his mind without an answer, I'll go and find 
 him in the church myself, or wherever he's to be found." 
 
 Hedvig sighed, and merely answered, " Oh, very 
 well. ..." Then she returned to her work. 
 
 Fruen found no one in the church but a lad, who, on 
 being questioned, believed that Johan had gone back 
 to the workshop. Thither she went, and, sure enough, 
 there was Johan at work on a small cart. But his 
 master was close by, painting a chest of drawers. Both 
 took off their hats, and Johan came towards her with 
 a smile. 
 
 The master stooped down again to his work, but 
 with his ears cocked suspiciously in the direction of 
 the pair. 
 
 " May I put on a coat and go along now ? " said 
 Johan, with his good smile. And, stepping lightly across 
 the shop, he opened a heavily painted wooden door 
 and entered his room. There was a wardrobe there,
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 179 
 
 and a very rough sort of bed ; Fruen wondered how 
 ever anyone could sleep with all that smell of paint 
 about. On the walls were a couple of paintings, un- 
 framed ; what they represented it was impossible to 
 see in the faint light. But when Johan opened the 
 wardrobe, Fruen could see, on the inner side of the door, 
 a sheet of card with a drawing in black chalk. She 
 went a few steps nearer, saying by way of pretext, 
 " Don't bother to put on a collar ! " And now she 
 could see that the girl there was Hedvig ; her face to the 
 Ufe, with the same Hght in her eyes, and her hair just 
 as it was ; there was even something of Hedvig's up- 
 right bearing in the pose. And in the front of the dress 
 was the httle brooch Fru van Haag had given her herself 
 the first day. 
 
 Johan slammed the wardrobe door to, and came 
 through into the shop again, buttoning his coat as 
 he walked. Then, without a word to his master, he 
 followed Fruen out into the street. 
 
 They walked along past some little gardens, with 
 wide expanse of stubble fields on the other side. 
 
 " It's nothing very pleasant I've got to tell you," 
 said Fruen. 
 
 " No, I guessed as much. The Professor didn't like 
 my things ? " 
 
 " It wasn't that exactly. ..." Fru van Haag was 
 not generally lacking in firmness, but she had seen that 
 picture of Hedvig — unquestionably a work of art — and a 
 new plan had come into her head. This man must not be 
 spurned aside. But . . . How could it be managed ? 
 It was his right to know the truth. " The Professor did 
 not consider your work original," she said kindly and 
 calmly. 
 
 " Does he think it was part of it stolen ? " said Johan.
 
 180 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " Well, since you say so yourself. ..." 
 
 Johan shivered. 
 
 " Stolen ! " he gasped. " Stolen, my pieces that 
 I made up myself ? Not a note of it was ever 
 stolen ! " 
 
 " Look here, Johan Fors, I like your music im- 
 mensely. If not, I should never have asked Hans Juhl 
 down here. But — you can't say _yow wrote Schumann's 
 ' Abendlied,' now, can you ? " 
 
 Johan stared, open-mouthed. 
 
 "The last one you played when the Piofessor was 
 here. You called it 'Anemones in the Wood.' " 
 
 Johan turned pale. " I must have forgotten, then. 
 I can't remember everything in the world. I've made 
 up over a hundred pieces myself, but I've heard thou- 
 sands and thousands. Is it any wonder if I made a 
 mistake ? I've been in all those countries down in the 
 south, out every evening somewhere — when I was at 
 work, that is ; I mean, when I had any money — at con- 
 certs every evening. Music was the only thing I cared 
 about. I was eighteen weeks in Vienna. Stolen ! I 
 don't steal." 
 
 He had spoken brokenly, the sentences tumbling 
 over one another. Suddenly he seemed to lose his 
 breath. He held both hands to his face, turned away, 
 and leaned his forehead against a tree. Some gleaners 
 in the field — a woman and two girls — stood up and 
 looked in wonder at the two. 
 
 " Listen to me," said Fru Clara, with evident sym- 
 pathy in her voice. " That wasn't all he said — the 
 Professor. He said there was something of an artist 
 in you. Most certainly, he said. And he didn't mean 
 anything dishonourable in saying the things were stolen. 
 But he thought your powers could perhaps be better
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 181 
 
 used in some other form of art. Painting pictures, for 
 instance." 
 
 Johan turned a haggard face towards her, and asked : 
 
 " The Professor — does he know anything about 
 things besides music ? " 
 
 " Indeed, he does. And I know a great deal about 
 both. I've even painted a picture myself, once — some 
 hyacinths in a vase, and it hangs on the wall at home 
 now. I think you might become a clever artist. And 
 the Professor and I will help you, as far as we can. But 
 come along now ; people are looking at us." 
 
 So, under Fru Clara's magic touch, Johan turned 
 joyful and confident. He drew out his pocket-book, 
 and gave her the drawings it contained ; he would bring 
 some more to-morrow — bigger things, better things 
 altogether. And when he left her at the foot of the 
 Toldbod steps, his strong teeth gleamed in a great 
 smile. His flourishing farewell was all that a woman 
 could desire ; when Fruen looked down from the window 
 above the steps, he was still standing there, with his hat 
 in one hand at his side, and the breeze flinging his yellow 
 locks this way and that. 
 
 Hr. van Haag had already sat down to table when 
 Fru Clara entered. He had found voice again, and 
 talked, to nobody in particular, of many things. 
 
 "... And they're getting up a collection — for the 
 further decoration of the church. I've given two Kroner 
 from you and two from me. And I've promised to let 
 a few ladies meet here now and again to work at an 
 altar cloth. Fru Vang, from the hotel, will be coming 
 up one day soon to arrange with you about it. A most 
 intelligent woman — a woman of culture." 
 
 Not a word said Fru van Haag by way of answer, 
 though she heard it all well enough. It was a blessing
 
 182 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 to be occupied with her own affairs. Oh, and there were 
 so many things to be done. But why this last, that 
 would mean both trouble and money ? Well, it was 
 only reasonable that Hedvig should have a decent 
 husband. She didn't care about him as he was now ; 
 well, then, he must be altered to suit her. It could, and 
 should, be done. 
 
 Fruen wrote many letters during the next few days ; 
 also, she went off somewhere on a journey. When she 
 returned Johan's affairs were well on the way ; he had 
 been granted admission to the Academy as a non-paying 
 student, and was to start at once. 
 
 Engineer Sveidal had been to Egholm, and had made 
 no objection to the sum of 7000 Kroner demanded. 
 Far from it ; he considered it a very reasonable sum. 
 The business could not be concluded on the spot, but 
 there was every prospect of its coming off. He would 
 talk to the Minister about it, he said graciously. 
 
 So that altogether Fru van Haag had reason to be 
 pleased. And she was. She shone like a sun over the 
 whole town. Fishing-wives left unprovided for, lamp- 
 Hghters' children. Madam Hermansen with the trouble- 
 some leg and the never- weary mouth, the char-creature 
 Malle Duse with her brief, sad song — these and many 
 others were regular visitors in Fru Clara's and Hedvig's 
 kitchen, where there was something to be found for each 
 and all. 
 
 And Fru van Haag went late to bed at nights and 
 fell asleep with ease, deaf to the dull meanderings of a 
 voice from across the room. All was well. 
 
 Then one day in the winter Hedvig came in and said 
 she wished to leave. Of course, it was an awkward 
 time to change now, but she could get a friend to come 
 in her place, if Fruen would let her. She'd just got
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 183 
 
 the chance of a good place in Jutland. Not meaning 
 she wanted to go at once, of course, but . . . 
 
 Fruen dropped her hands in her lap. 
 
 " A good place, Hedvig. You mean, you know the 
 people ? " 
 
 " No, but it was in the paper. ' As one of the family ' 
 and all. A veterinary surgeon." 
 
 " Then you've applied for it already ? " 
 
 " Yes, and got an answer ; I can . . . but, of course, 
 only if you don't mind. And Dagmar could come 
 instead of me — she's much cleverer, really." 
 
 " Well," said Fruen, with difficulty, " I suppose you 
 must go — yes, of course. But we must fit you out first, 
 my dear. The little old lady from the little red house 
 can come round and do the sewing. And we'll go along 
 to Lund's to-morrow morning. Have you a trunk and 
 things ? A chest of drawers ? Oh, but you must have 
 a proper travelling-trunk. The yellow one of mine 
 with the handles, you know — you can have that. Don't 
 talk nonsense, child. We can't have you going to a 
 new place like a gipsy from nowhere. What would 
 your new people think of me ? " 
 
 A busy fortnight followed, and then — Hedvig was 
 gone. It was Dagmar who stood by the stove and 
 moved about the rooms. Dagmar it was, beyond 
 question. 
 
 The new year that followed seemed, as it were, still- 
 born. No tourists. No solution of the railway problem. 
 Hardly even ships in the harbour. And who worked 
 at the painting of the church ? Two miserable appren- 
 tice lads, whose work was not worth craning one's neck 
 back to see. The Weiszs' proposed holiday trip with 
 the van Haags had to be given up, owing to the sudden
 
 184 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 indisposition of Fru van Haag, who found herself obhged 
 to stay in bed. True, the indisposition evanesced as 
 soon as the hoUday plan was given up. But what 
 difference did that make ? 
 
 Egholm in his villa in Stationsvej had to wait for his 
 country mansion ; and his former religion had taught 
 him to meet such delays with dignity and calm. Fru 
 Egholm did not mourn. She dug and weeded in her 
 garden, and thought it a paradise on earth. For it 
 must not be forgotten that neither sun nor rain, neither 
 roses nor lilies nor the scented honeysuckle were in the 
 least degree stillborn. Nor was there anything to com- 
 plain of about her boy Emanuel at his high-class school. 
 Emanuel was growing almost beyond her of late. When 
 they were alone he would at times give voice in strange 
 
 9 
 
 tongues, and refer quite calmly to such things as '^'^\/ o 
 
 His mother nodded mutely, and gave him sweets and 
 money ; she had a fervent admiration for the marvels 
 of science. Afterwards, she could pass on to her sim- 
 plicity, the things she had thus learned, to the neigh- 
 bours, or to Fru van Haag. Two sons she had now, 
 both incomprehensible beings — but both with hearts 
 of the purest gold — for Sivert, too, now wrote more 
 and more in English. His experiences and adventures 
 were manifold — and not all of a character to be passed 
 on to silly people, who might misconstrue his words 
 and actions. 
 
 Often, in her dreams, Fru Egholm heard a sound as 
 of heavy footsteps. Sivert 's, beyond doubt. For he 
 said in his letter that he was still tramping about with 
 his friend Ferdinand. 
 
 Hedvig wrote but seldom. She was in Copenhagen 
 now, in service with a family in high society. She
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 185 
 
 was always telling of how much she was learning — and 
 how much more she wanted to learn. 
 
 As for love-making or such-like nonsense, never a 
 word from Hedvig. And this was strange for a girl of 
 her age. But then, who ever could understand Hedvig ? 
 Even Fru van Haag confessed she could not. She and 
 Hedvig's mother put their heads together often and 
 talked long of their young friend, till it almost seemed 
 as if she were there in the room with them. And after, 
 when they saw how empty the room was in reality, the 
 tears came into their eyes. 
 
 So passed a few more quiet years ; a time when all 
 events seemed buried in winter sleep.
 
 XIII 
 
 SINCE the time of his famous venture in courtship- 
 by-proxy, Emanuel had been as his father's 
 comrade and equal. But under the influence 
 of the intellectual nourishment served out at his new 
 school, the lad had grown to such an extent that he 
 was soon, metaphorically speaking, thrusting his head 
 through the low roof of the cottage into another world. 
 He could still manage to accompany his father on a 
 walk in the woods, or go sailing with him now and then, 
 but found it impossible now to take part in his religious 
 rites, a source of thrilling excitement to him in former 
 days. His father's voice seemed now, as it were, to 
 come from a distance ; it had no longer that power of 
 tickling his ear close to. It did not matter whether he 
 spoke of his great inventions, past and to come, or his 
 revelations — for revelations he had had — or of more 
 ordinary, commonplace things, such as, for instance, the 
 mysticism of numbers. Mysticism — yes, it was here 
 the crux of the matter lay — all this mysticism became 
 somewhat tiresome in the long run. The figures once 
 learnt at school could be quite hard enough to deal with 
 at times, even as they were. But once allow them to 
 be complicated further — as, for instance, by reckoning 
 I as the Messiah, o as Jehovah, 9 as the Third Person 
 of the Trinity, and 6 for the Evil One himself — and, 
 well, there would be little hope of passing official exams. 
 
 Emanuel preferred to come down occasionally to 
 
 186
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 187 
 
 his mother's level. True, she was mute in all foreign 
 languages, but in her native tongue she could speak 
 with remarkable wisdom of her flowers, and sun and 
 wind, and fowls and singing birds and other creatures 
 of the garden. She waged a bloodless war with the 
 starlings, that sought to nip the shoots of her tomato 
 plants. It was quite amusing, really, to see these small 
 robbers making away in terror when their wings came 
 in contact with Fru Egholm's carefully laid obstruc- 
 tions of black thread. It was really wonderful what 
 she could make out of a single plant in a flower-pot. 
 As, for instance, with that old philodendron that Egholm 
 had accidentally burnt off close to the stem by putting 
 a lamp underneath. Emanuel thought it was done 
 with once and for all ; but his mother, recovering from 
 her first grief, declared the case not hopeless yet. She 
 cut the wounded part clean, strewed red brick-dust over 
 it, and placed it in a better light. And now wonders began. 
 There was a little grey speck on the stem, that had always 
 been there. And from this issued forth a tiny shoot, 
 gradually extending to a curved horn, rather Uke the 
 spur of a cock. It was almost beyond behef how that 
 spur developed. It took a terrible time, to be sure, 
 but at last, at long last, the wondering observers could 
 see beyond all doubt that it consisted of a single 
 delicately rolled-up leaf. Then one morning it unfolded, 
 and lo ! something larger and lovelier than had ever 
 before been seen — breaking, moreover, into the curious 
 tatters that are the special mark of the philodendron. 
 Day after day mother and son had watched together, 
 and marvelled over this conjuring trick of Nature in 
 drawing a brand-new, beautiful leaf out of a withered 
 stem. They did not talk much about it, but often their 
 eyes met in intimate understanding when they marked
 
 188 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HA AG 
 
 how the plant in the course of the night had given the 
 horn a new unexpected turn. 
 
 There were one or two other points, too, on which 
 mother and son understood each other. Egholm in- 
 variably kept his purse-strings jealously fastened, but 
 Emanuel found his mother always ready and able to find 
 some way of providing necessary clothes and books. 
 She Hved in dread lest her boy should appear behind 
 the others at the school. It needed but a word, and 
 her hand flew to her pocket, or to the old brass mortar, 
 or one of the other hiding-places where her treasury 
 was distributed. Now, while things were quiet and 
 steady, Egholm's business brought in a decent little 
 income — why not put some of the money to a good use ? 
 And learning — surely that was a good use enough ? 
 At times Fru Egholm even thought Emanuel too modest 
 in his demands, and went out herself, without sa3dng 
 anything to him, to buy a book or so, which she placed 
 on his shelves with a triumphant smile. They were 
 always books about natural history, in which he was 
 especially interested. 
 
 The practical matters of the home, however, in- 
 terested him far less now than when he was younger. 
 He had to think about himself now. In a httle while 
 he would have passed his first exam — and what then ? 
 Fru van Haag could give him no advice, for all her 
 wisdom in other things. All she said was, " Well, 
 what would you like to do ? " And that was just the 
 difficulty. What he would Uke to do — to be honest, 
 Emanuel's liking ran chiefly in the direction of listening 
 to the chatter of starhngs, or watching the conjuring 
 tricks of a philodendron. And one could hardly make 
 a hving out of that ! 
 
 Altogether it was a difficult matter enough.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 189 
 
 Then it came about that Emanuel, all unexpectedly, 
 stumbled into the midst of an event which, more than 
 any previous happening, wrought revolution in the 
 Egholms' life. 
 
 It was one day in March. He was walking home 
 from school, feeling fine and grown up, and with an air 
 as of an eminent lawyer at least. Ho, he thought to 
 himself — didn't use to walk along Uke this in the old 
 days ! No, it was hopping up and down over ditches 
 and planks then. But that was ages ago — thank 
 goodness ! 
 
 He had only a couple of subjects left now. And 
 to-day he had done better than he had ever hoped in 
 arithmetic. But he was feeling tired and hungry. He 
 strode rapidly over the plank bridge and in through 
 the garden, grasped at the door — what was this ? It 
 was locked ! 
 
 Funny thing ! Well, well . . , Emanuel went 
 round to the kitchen door. Well, of all the . . . This 
 was locked too — unflinchingly, unalterably locked ! 
 Such a thing had never happened before. In broad 
 daylight — and a weekday ! 
 
 He walked to the window, and, flattening his nose 
 against one of the small panes, saw his mother and 
 father grovelling on the floor, each with a bundle of 
 paper money in one hand. Emanuel stared in utter 
 dismay. 
 
 What on earth could have happened ? Where had 
 they got all that money from ? Why had they locked 
 the doors and never heard him when he came ? 
 
 His thoughts flew hither and thither, with nothing 
 to hold by, nothing to start from, flurrying round and 
 making all more tangled still. 
 
 Father and mother . . , had they murdered some-
 
 190 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 body and stolen a fortune ? Was there perhaps a still- 
 warm corpse hidden under the settee ? Ah, it would 
 cost them a good round sum now to make him, Emanuel, 
 hold his peace ! 
 
 At last they heard him. His mother handed her 
 bunch of notes to her husband, and sprang up. A 
 moment later came her voice at the door : 
 
 " Emanuel ! Come along — quick, this way ! " 
 
 She locked the door again. Emanuel did not fail to 
 mark that her face was hot, and her hair straggling 
 wildly about her forehead. 
 
 " Stay where you are ! " cried his father. " No, 
 come along in. But carefully — carefully, I say." 
 
 Emanuel took hold of the door-handle limply, but 
 loosed his hold again and let his mother go in front. 
 It was only with an effort he could move a step himself. 
 
 And the sight before him now is hardly calculated 
 to restrain his riotous imagination. 
 
 There, in the middle of the room, his father, pros- 
 trate on the floor, his face of a yellowish pallor, his fore- 
 head extending back in an idiotic curve right to his neck, 
 his features at once limp and excited. He waves to 
 them, threatening, without a word, to stand still, and 
 indicates helplessly the state of the floor. 
 
 From the settee across to the piano and under it, a 
 carpet of notes, set out in row upon row, with a finger's 
 breadth between. The room is paved with brown tiles, 
 each of them a ten-Kroner note. It is these to which 
 Egholm is pointing, with a face of misery, without a 
 word, as a cripple drawing aside the trappings from his 
 maimed legs. 
 
 Emanuel gripped the handle of the door to steady 
 himself ; he felt giddy, as in the old days when Hedvig 
 had been swinging him round at arm's length.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 191 
 
 " Where — where did you get it all ? " he asks con- 
 fusedly. 
 
 His father answers only with a shake of the head. 
 He has still a thick bundle of notes in his hands ; he 
 picks out one, pinches and waves it twenty times to 
 make sure there are not two together, lays it down re- 
 luctantly in its place in the row, and takes the next. 
 His forehead is now smooth, now wrinkled in perplexed 
 anxiety, wondering whether this unheard-of game of 
 patience will work out. 
 
 Fru Egholm follows his movements with her eyes, 
 and makes answer nervously to Emanuel's question : 
 
 " Where ? Why, they came by the post. From the 
 Minister himself — or from the railway, I suppose it was. 
 Oh, and — good heavens, poor child, I've forgotten all 
 about your dinner ! But there's the envelope, so you 
 can see for yourself. How'd you get on in arithmetic 
 to-day, dear ? " 
 
 At last came understanding — came almost with a 
 stab of physical pain to his head. 
 
 Ah — aha ! The money for the house, of course. 
 The sale of the property had been effected in the mean- 
 time quietly, and he had never heard a word. His work 
 for the exam had kept him out of it all. His parents 
 must have kept the whole thing a secret — they had 
 never done that before. Anyhow, here it was, a fact 
 accomplished. It seemed wonderful, somehow. He 
 had been interested himself, long ago, in the question of 
 the new railway station and its possibilities, but the 
 constant talk this way and that had wearied him. 
 
 " Don't move a step, either of you," cried his father 
 suddenly. " I've got it all mixed up. Why didn't you 
 stay in here as I told you ? I make it twenty Kroner 
 too much."
 
 192 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 Emanuel came to himself again. 
 
 " That'll be mine, I expect," he said, with a laugh. 
 " Some of my pocket-money I must have left lying 
 about." 
 
 " There aren't too many, you may be sure," said 
 his mother. " We counted them before, Egholm, when 
 you laid them out first. Let me . . ." 
 
 " No, no, no ; I'll do it myself ! " And Egholm 
 began glancing in little jerks from note to note, whisper- 
 ing silently all the time as he counted. But the result 
 this time seemed worse than before. He looked up 
 despairingly and said : 
 
 " There, you can see for yourselves ; fourteen rows 
 and thirty-seven in each, that makes . . ." — he con- 
 sulted a scrap of paper — " 5180. Now, keep that in 
 your heads a minute. What was it ? Right. Then 
 one fLye-hundred-Kroner note. Wait a minute — I 
 must see if that's genuine. WeU, that makes — what 
 was it we said before ? " 
 
 " It makes 5680 altogether." 
 
 " No, it must be more. Well, perhaps you're right. 
 Say 5680. And here behind me I've got a hundred and 
 thirty-four in tens. That is twenty Kroner too much. 
 Not a shadow of doubt. We must send tliem back at 
 once." 
 
 " Oh, the railway's ever so rich," said Fru Egholm. 
 
 " Ah — I see what you mean — we ought to sacrifice 
 them to God ! Not a bad idea ! " 
 
 " Hi — wait a minute," put in Emanuel. " Look 
 here, there's one missing in this row and another here." 
 
 Sure enough, there was a gap in each of two rows, 
 where the legs of the piano came between. 
 
 The notes were now arranged in hundreds. Emanuel 
 and his mother sat on the floor watching reverently.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 193 
 
 Egholm seemed to fancy that the shghtest movement 
 would create a hurricane and whirl away untold sums 
 in a whiff, to be lost for ever. Not till the notes were 
 securely bundled and tied up with string did he breathe 
 a sigh of rehef. Indeed, he brightened up altogether 
 now. 
 
 " Here, feel'the weight of them ! Ah yes, run and 
 fetch the scales from the kitchen, and see how much 
 they weigh. It's a nuisance with that one for five 
 hundred, though — that'll make it less, of course." 
 
 " What fun to have the whole lot in one-0re pieces," 
 said Emanuel. 
 
 " Seven hundred thousand ! Yes. No, the proper 
 way would be to have it all in golden ingots. Then all 
 we'd have to do would be to bite off a chunk once a year. 
 Still, notes are none so bad, after all. Only fancy, 
 there were thirty tens numbered straight on. Think of 
 it ! Thirty Unks in the chain of wealth that holds the 
 world together — are mine ! " 
 
 They sat for a while chatting comfortably together. 
 Emanuel ate his meal with rare enjoyment, while his 
 mother went to and fro between parlour and kitchen. 
 There, just in front of Egholm, on the edge of the piano, 
 lay the bundle of notes tied up with string. AH three 
 laughed and found the most amusing things to say, 
 always something to do with money. It was as if the 
 house were stocked and stuffed to bursting with money 
 — money in every possible form. Thus occupied, they 
 failed to notice a timid httle knocking at the door. And 
 with the suddenness of a vision, the door opened and 
 there stood Fru van Haag herself before them. 
 
 Egholm jerked the string, and the bundle of notes 
 hopped down hke a puppy beneath his chair. 
 
 " Egholm and his distinguished last-bom both look- 
 13
 
 194 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 ing as if turned to stone. Am I really such a fright as 
 all that ? " said Fru van Haag. 
 
 " N— o, not at all," stammered Egholm. " Only, I 
 thought the street door was locked." 
 
 " It was. And so I had to climb up on the garden 
 seat and get through the window." 
 
 This set Egholm off laughing again — it was simply 
 too dehghtful to think of : the finest, loveliest woman 
 in all the world clambering in through a window to see 
 him ! He would have said something properly amusing, 
 but, finding it impossible to speak at all at the moment, 
 he went round in front of the chair on which Fru van 
 Haag had just sat down, and began winding up the 
 string, sending the toy puppy-dog (value 7000 Kr.) 
 hopping along over the floor. At last he hauled it in, 
 hoisted it up, and after many antics and capers, lowered 
 it into Fruen's lap. 
 
 Wondering queries followed, and were met with 
 smart, swift reports like short hurrahs. 
 
 " And we're happy, then," said Fruen, when she 
 grasped what had happened. She stood up, with tears 
 in her eyes, and threw her silk-sleeved arms about his 
 faded shoulders. 
 
 Fruen demanded that the bundle should be un- 
 fastened. Egholm complied ; he had not the shghtest 
 fear now of hurricanes, or any catastrophe whatever. 
 
 " Well," said Fru van Haag, turning over the notes, 
 "it's money, right enough. Real money — heaps of 
 money." 
 
 " You've seen more than that at a time. There 
 used to be piles in your father's safe, rolls of money, as 
 high as that from the floor ! " 
 
 Fruen shook her head. " Ah no, that wasn't the 
 same thing. How long did it all last when the passage
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 195 
 
 dues were abolished ? No ; money should be where 
 there's room for it — that is, where there wasn't any to 
 speak of before." 
 
 " Precisely my own opinion," said Egholm, with a 
 bow and a scrape. " But where are we to store this 
 treasure for to-night ? " 
 
 " Why, in the bank. Where else . . . ? " 
 
 But Egholm didn't believe in banks. He wanted 
 to guard his treasure himself. And surely it wasn't 
 pleasing to the Lord to have things stowed away so 
 safely that he couldn't lay a finger on them if he 
 wished. 
 
 " Bury it imder the cherry tree," suggested Emanuel. 
 
 Fruen entered into the hidden treasure idea at once. 
 It was so delightfully romantic. 
 
 " Suppose you took it to bed with you ? " 
 
 " That's not a bad idea." 
 
 " Yes ; hide them under your pillow." 
 
 " No, under the pillow won't do. That's the first 
 place a thief would look. Much rather make a bed of 
 notes, so I could hear them crackling every time I move, 
 and wake up half suffocated to find the big blue five- 
 hundred fellow shifted across my mouth." 
 
 Fru Egholm had slipped away to her own domains ; 
 she entered now with a strange but festive arrangement 
 on a tray — chocolate in a cup, a plate of cakes, and at 
 least five glasses of different sorts of Syltetoj. 
 
 " What's Little Mother been up to now ? And I'm 
 on strict diet," said Fruen, with a shake of the head. 
 But she began at once fingering the glass of wild straw- 
 berries. 
 
 " Just for once," said Fru Egholm persuasively. 
 " Seeing what a grand day it is for Egholm." 
 
 " And for you too, surely ? "
 
 196 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " Ah no. If only I'd had my httle garden to keep, 
 the railway might have kept their money for me ! " 
 
 Fru van Haag set down her plate and spoon. Her 
 cheeks paled, her eloquent brown eyes grew wide and 
 anxious. 
 
 " Are they taking away your garden, Little Mother ? 
 And here are we going on like this as if it were the luckiest 
 thing in the world. Oh, that's too cruel ! We ought to 
 be ashamed of ourselves. But they mustn't ; we won't 
 let them ! " 
 
 " We can't very well get all this money and keep 
 the house and garden as well," said Egholm, stalking 
 nervously up and down. 
 
 " And just now, when the crocuses are coming out 
 everywhere. And there's big green leaves on the 
 honeysuckle by the window already ! Oh, how could 
 we be so cruel to Little Mother ! " 
 
 " Not a bit of it ! " cried Egholm cheerfully, twirl- 
 ing his precious bundle by the string. " You haven't 
 heard my last stroke of genius. Nearly as smart as the 
 deal itself. I've sold the place, it's true, but we're not 
 to move out of it, for all that. I've rented my house 
 from the railway till the first of August ! " 
 
 " That's four months. But what about after ? " 
 
 Egholm repeated the word uncomprehendingly. 
 " After ? " He was neither accustomed nor inclined to 
 think ahead through all eternities at once. 
 
 Fru van Haag stroked Little Mother's hand. No, 
 it was no good giving way like that now, after the thing 
 was done. She had felt with Egholm in the matter, 
 had surrendered to the excitement of the scheme, 
 eager to see if he really would succeed in disappointing 
 all the town and becoming a rich man. That it might 
 cost something to get rich had never entered her head.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 197 
 
 " But what are we to give Little Mother instead^of 
 her Garden of Eden ? " 
 
 Fru Egholm stroked her cheek awkwardly and said : 
 
 " If you'd play to us a Uttle ..." 
 
 " This very minute ! " cried Fruen, and ran to the 
 piano. Her spring coat was coloured like the inside 
 of a mussel shell. 
 
 She sat down and began to play ; first a few runs, 
 as if accustoming her fingers to the ground. Some of 
 the notes were stiff. Then she played a few pieces, 
 whatever came into her head. She named each as it 
 came. Stephen Heller. A Uttle thing of Haydn. 
 
 Egholm nodded. Haydn — yes, he knew him. What 
 was there Egholm didn't know ? 
 
 Chopin — " Berceuse." 
 
 Emanuel and his mother stood silently in the back- 
 ground. Egholm's musical sense was practically deaf- 
 mute, but he Hked this "Berceuse" thing. There — a 
 funny little trill there. And there it was again ! Would 
 it come any more ? 
 
 Fruen half turned in her seat. Wasn't there any- 
 thing Little Mother would specially Uke ? 
 
 " Eh, no — it was all just lovely, whatever Fruen 
 played." 
 
 " Sure there's nothing, really ? " 
 
 Nay, 'twas no good talking about it. . . . But there 
 was a thing she remembered ... a thing they played 
 when the soldiers marched off to Lundby Bakker. 
 She'd never forgotten it. And Fru Egholm began 
 telUng how she had stood by the roadside and seen it all. 
 And when the wounded came back into Aalborg the 
 same night, blood dripping from the cart on either 
 side . . . 
 
 Fruen bent over the old piano as if whispering to
 
 198 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 it. And the poor decrepit instrument called up some- 
 thing of past glories ; its rusted strings and dented 
 sounding-board gave out almost more than they 
 possessed. 
 
 It was as if the walls fell away, the room, time itself . . . 
 
 Hark ! Tramp, tramp — hear the crunch of heavy 
 boots upon the road ! Clang — clanking of metal. And 
 see there — red faces with bluish-white eyes gazing straight 
 ahead. A thousand haversacks slapping and swinging 
 in time, a marching forest of arms. A roar from some- 
 where ahead ; it runs hke the rushing of a storm 
 through the forest. 
 
 And now — fierce, fiery play. 
 
 The trumpets' quivering Hghtnings, furious hail- 
 storms from the drums ; the pitiful tinkle of the triangle, 
 and the big drum thumping heavy blows below the belt. 
 
 " Ah, hsten ! " cried Fru Egholm, hfting one finger. 
 
 The rush of sound is nearer now. Gusts of wind 
 fling it furiously up the green slopes, where they stand 
 looking on. Then fainter — fainter — fainter — till nothing 
 is left but the harsh crunch of footsteps tramping alone 
 once more along the heavy road. 
 
 Emanuel's eyes were straining wide, even his father 
 scratched thoughtfully at his wreath of hair. Fru 
 Egholm wrung her hands and said, with emotion : 
 
 " Yes, it was that very one. Oh, it was good of you 
 to remember it. I've never heard it since until to-day." 
 
 " It was you that sang it into my ear," said Fruen, 
 with a gentle smile. 
 
 She rose, and began drawing on her gloves. Egholm 
 offered to see her home. 
 
 " You — in those old rags," said Fru Egholm, horrified, 
 " A nice thing, indeed ! " 
 
 " I'll put on my decorations ! "
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 199 
 
 
 Decorations — huh ! " 
 
 Ah, you just look ! " Egholm had hung the bundle 
 of notes in a string round his neck. 
 
 " It's nothing less than scandalous to think of you 
 walking along the street with Fruen hke that ! Oh, 
 what's that ? Let me look ! Dear, dear, how dread- 
 ful ! " 
 
 A big triangular rent had been torn in Fruen's gUsten- 
 ing coat. 
 
 " Why, then, I'm in rags too, it seems," said Fruen 
 cheerfully. " But do take those nails out of the window, 
 Egholm, before I come again." 
 
 " But he mustn't go, really. ..." 
 
 " Give Little Mother all the money, then she'll let 
 you, I know." 
 
 Fru Egholm, like a wise general, saw her chance and 
 seized it. 
 
 " Well, then— but on one condition. It's nothing 
 much really, but ..." 
 
 " You shall have whatever you wish, Little Mother. 
 Aren't we ever so rich ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes," agreed Egholm, anticipating some hint 
 of a new hat, or a flower-pot to add to the ninety-nine 
 already there. 
 
 " Well, then," said Anna Egholm solemnly, "it's 
 this : that you send Sivert his passage-money, so he 
 can come home ! "
 
 XIV 
 
 THERE has always been one lawyer, and only 
 one, in Knarreby. His name is O. P. Jensen. 
 And O. P. Jensen is a big, fat man — a whale, 
 who swallows the town in the course of a year and 
 throws it up again after having extracted from it the 
 six to eight thousand Kroner which he requires for the 
 means of life. 0. P. Jensen is hated by none, and liked 
 by two or three. But now there appears on the scene 
 a scion of lawyerhood by name Cornelius Worm, son of 
 the brewer of that ilk. 
 
 What does Knarreby want with him ? Away with 
 him — he spoils the view ! 
 
 Every one remembers yet his mischievous tricks as a 
 boy. 
 
 His ugliness is rather of an inward sort. Outwardly 
 he is none so bad. A mixture of good and ill. 
 Rather a military type : tall and sunburnt, with a scar 
 on his right cheek. It might have been gained in some 
 fierce duel. But no — his vacant look denies it. Look- 
 ing at his eyes, it seems more likely that the scar was 
 left by the lash of a riding- whip. 
 
 Cornelius has no paunch ; he does not go in for 
 heavy meals at convenient intervals. Cornelius is a 
 weasel, fasting for an unconscionable time, and then 
 making up for it by sucking the blood of his neighbours' 
 fowls in a single night. 
 
 Egholm sits on a chair in Cornelius Worm's office.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 201 
 
 The young lawyer stands in front of him, with legs wide 
 apart, talking to him like a father. 
 
 " Put your money where it's safe," he says, and 
 strikes the desk with his fist. 
 
 " I don't beheve in these banks and things," says 
 Egholm modestly, " but you can be sure I'll put it 
 somewhere where it'll be safe. If I could open my own 
 skull, now, I'd put it in there at once." 
 
 " I wasn't thinking of banks at all. No, the proper 
 thing to do with it is to invest it in some good property 
 or sound securities." 
 
 " And where do you find them ? " 
 
 CorneHus had, as has been said, a vacant glance, 
 but he managed at times to imitate an expression. 
 He could put on an air of authority and power by 
 expanding his pupils. 
 
 " There you are ! You don't know. Consequently, 
 what you have to do is to engage a man of business who 
 does ! " 
 
 " And who'd that be ? " 
 
 " Me ! " says the lawyer, and as he utters the word 
 he screws out his iris to unheard-of limits. 
 
 The idea of Worm as a confidential man of business 
 seemed to Egholm at first ridiculous. Worm — the boy 
 who had played abominable tricks with his turbine 
 boat, and afterwards had the unprecedented effrontery 
 to paint his name on the side ! 
 
 Still, sitting here with a bundle of notes that filled 
 out his chest — pigeon-breasted with wealth — he felt he 
 could afford a trifle of foohshness. And he answered 
 smartly : 
 
 " I'd been thinking of that very thing myself." 
 
 " And very sensible of you, I'm sure," said Worm, 
 with a short laugh.
 
 202 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 He turned to the big cupboard, painted to represent 
 oak, and began drawing out mysterious bundles of 
 documents, turned over pages, whistling the while, as if 
 he had forgotten Egholm completely. Here and there 
 he threw out a httle remark : " Hotel property — thirty 
 per cent. No, hardly good enough. Third mortgage — 
 small villa, safe as the Bank of Heaven, but too low. 
 Ah, here's something — gold-mine shares, round about 
 fifty per cent. What do you say to something in that 
 Une ? " 
 
 " What mine is it ? " 
 
 " King Albert." 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 " Eh ? Oh, how the devil should I know ? Here 
 it is : in Delavahana." 
 
 " And Where's that ? " 
 
 Cornelius Worm was smart at many things, but 
 geography was not his strong point. There was an 
 empty pause. Then Egholm said resignedly : 
 
 " Well — er — no. I shouldn't mind having a small 
 share in a gold-mine, I don't mind telHng you it was 
 a fancy of mine years ago — gold-mining. But I can't 
 say I care about King Alberts in Delavahana, Whether 
 it's CaUfornia, Africa, or Australia — I'm hardly likely 
 to be going there now. I'm not as young as I used to 
 be. I want something where I can live close by, and 
 take a turn at the mining myself. Go out and grub 
 about in the sand with both hands and fish out lumps 
 of gold. I'm too old for the other thing. No — if you 
 could pick up a bit of a gold-mine within eight or ten 
 miles of here, say , . ." 
 
 " I've ^oHt ! The very thing ! " 
 
 " The devil ! You don't say so." 
 
 " Ah, you may not believe me, but I have."
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 203 
 
 " Where — where is it ? " 
 
 " Here ! " The lawyer waved a document, that 
 seemed mysteriously attractive, before Egholm's face. 
 
 " But what is the place ? What do you call it ? " 
 
 Worm sat down suddenly in his chair, and said, with 
 the pleasant superiority of a man of the world : 
 
 " My dear Egholm, I am sure you have heard, now, 
 of the Aaby Brickworks ? " 
 
 Egholm had certainly heard the name before. This 
 seemed to him sufficient grounds for nodding emphatic- 
 ally here. 
 
 " Well and good," said Worm, with a satisfied smile, 
 followed by an expansion of his pupils. " You know it. 
 It may have been, perhaps, a trifle hasty on my part to 
 say I had this gold-mine, but, if you like to leave the 
 matter in my hands, why, I don't mind saying there's 
 little short of the Devil himself could hinder me from 
 getting it. Come up again to-morrow and I'll let you 
 know." 
 
 Whereupon he ushered Egholm out of the office — all 
 but thrust him out — without heeding his objections. 
 
 Worm, this son of a brewer of small beer, a lawyer 
 whose knowledge of the law was watered down to 
 near the limit of dilution, was brewing here a crafty 
 potion that went to Egholm's head in a very httle 
 time. 
 
 Briefly, the course of Egholm's intoxication was 
 as follows : He crushed his wife's protests and warnings 
 fiercely out of being. He grew poetical, and said, 
 " What, you say it's not a gold-mine ? I say it is ! 
 Clay, yellow clay, shall turn to gold under my hand. 
 Haven't I always wished to be a landed proprietor, a 
 lord of the soil ? I shall be now, in the most literal 
 sense. Here's the clay that God has given us, a good
 
 204 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 thing in its way, but needing treatment. I'll give it the 
 treatment, I'll perfect it, glorify it. Didn't I once in- 
 vent something specially to do with bricks ? " 
 
 " But, Egholm, do, please, find out a Uttle about it 
 first ! " 
 
 " That's just what I am doing. I've engaged a man 
 of business already, for that very purpose ! " 
 
 A week after, Egholm went up to Worm's office and 
 signed the note which made him owner of Aaby Brick- 
 works. 
 
 He got it for 5000 Kroner in cash — a ridiculous 
 bargain really ; the total price was only 14,000. He paid 
 down the money, handing out first, of course, the single 
 ^00-Kroner note, but finding, nevertheless, that his 
 chest-protector dwindled abominably. It had warmed 
 and weighed on him so pleasantly, hanging there on its 
 string hke a huge amulet, an aid to all that was desirable, 
 a charm against all ills. Possibly it was this feehng 
 which led him to pack an old Prayer Book in among 
 the remaining notes, thus not only maintaining the 
 previous bulk, but even increasing the weight — and, of 
 course, the value. It was really this precious work 
 which gained for Egholm the respect of his fellow-towns- 
 men. Every one knew, of course, exactly what he had 
 got from the railway for his house, and with equal pre- 
 cision the amount he had paid for the Aaby Brickworks. 
 Whereafter any child could reckon out what remained 
 to himself. But when Egholm, the day after, chanced 
 to pass by Bro's general store, he recollected that he 
 wanted a few nails for his boat. 
 
 The nails cost 10 0re. Egholm opened his purse 
 — there was not a single Ore in it. Bro himself looked 
 miserable, nay, on the verge of tears, at sight of that 
 lamentable void. But Egholm, turning a little aside,
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 205 
 
 drew a packet from under his vest and unfastened it, 
 and tendered Bro a lo-Kroner note, with apologies for 
 having nothing smaller at the moment. And while 
 Bro was getting the change, Egholm half furtively laid 
 his packet of notes on the scales, which promptly in- 
 dicated something over i^ lb. 
 
 Thus it leaked out about the town that Egholm was 
 still so incontinently rich that he must count his money 
 by weight, albeit it was in paper. Rumour asserted 
 that he had won the biggest prize in the State lottery. 
 And the town bowed down before him. All on account 
 of that book of devotion. 
 
 The town bowed down hkewise before Sivert, who 
 came back home as fast as the steamer could bring him. 
 Outwardly, no doubt, he was strikingly Uke the Sivert 
 whom all had despised — but there was no getting away 
 from the fact that he was now the son of a wealthy 
 man, and heir to Aaby Brickworks. 
 
 Furthermore, he had come back with money of his 
 own. Some rattUng loose in his trousers pocket, and a 
 nice Uttle bundle of genuine dollar notes. This was the 
 passage-money his father had sent him from home, and 
 which Sivert had saved by working his passage across 
 as cook's mate. 
 
 Oh, Sivert was no fool. He did not, Uke so many 
 returned emigrants, affect a fur coat with the fur out- 
 side ; no, but he had what was better, an inside fur — a 
 fur about his inner being. Formerly, Sivert 's inner 
 being had been naked, exposed to the scorn and derision 
 of all. Now, it was otherwise. And to cap all, Sivert 
 could speak English to the extent of saying " No " and 
 " Yes " in the proper places. 
 
 His father was not a httle impressed by these evi- 
 dences of culture acquired in foreign parts. He was
 
 206 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 constantly asking about things which he supposed — 
 conceding it beforehand — were " different over there, 
 of course." Si vert would nod portentously, wrap him- 
 self well up in his inner fur, and bring out his Yes and 
 No, to the satisfaction of all concerned. 
 
 When alone with his mother, Sivert would creep out 
 of his fur and be her own dear boy as of old. They 
 had a little talk together in the kitchen on the evening 
 of the day he came home. 
 
 " And you won't be going away and leaving us again, 
 now, will you ? I'm sure it seems a blessing and a 
 miracle to have you back this time." 
 
 " I must," said Sivert, shaking his head. " I can't 
 stay here. It's too small altogether ; everything's the 
 same here." 
 
 " Too small — why, surely, dear — you coming back 
 like you are now, I shouldn't call that a little thing to 
 begin with. And then your father's a rich man now, 
 you know, with his Brickworks and all. No, it seems 
 to me if you were to get married now, while it's time — 
 I'm sure you could have one of the prettiest in the 
 town." 
 
 " But if there's none of them that's the sort I care 
 about ? " 
 
 " Oh, well, of course . . . But what is the sort you 
 care about ? " 
 
 " Well, first of all, with gold-filled teeth. They all 
 have that in America, and you've no idea how desper- 
 ately fine it looks. Then I want some one that's simply 
 wasting away with love and longing for me. Thrown 
 herself at my feet at first sight, without me begging 
 or forcing her any way myself." 
 
 " Why, as far as that goes, I'm sure there's many'd 
 say ' No ' and ' Yes ' in English and thank you into
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 207 
 
 the bargain as soon as you cared to ask them. But as 
 for gold-filled teeth, my dear, 'tis vanity, and an abomina- 
 tion unto the Lord." 
 
 " Oh, it's only here in the old country He doesn't 
 like it. It's a pretty custom, really. But suppose I 
 made up to Him by leaving out the gold-that-glitters 
 part, who've you got to offer, now ? " 
 
 Sivert's mother was glad to find the boy wilhng at 
 any rate to discuss the question. She was kneading the 
 dough for a Christmas cake. Taking the bag of raisins, 
 she set it in front of him. " Help yourself to some 
 raisins, dear. Ah, you see it'll come all right if you'll 
 only be good and stay at home with us. What do you 
 say, now, to the watchmaker's girl, Mille ? Yes, take 
 some more, do." 
 
 " Give me a bit of dough to wrap them up in. You 
 know I always was fond of raw dough. It's nearly 
 three years now since I tasted it. And it was partly 
 for that I came home. Mille — h'm! A watchmaker 
 doesn't sound very fine, really." 
 
 " Well, there's no such hurry that you need say yes 
 or no this very night. And there's those three girls of 
 the vet.'s ; they've been going around ready and waiting 
 ever so long, and none of them engaged yet." 
 
 " They're hardly what you might call sizeable enough. 
 I want a fine tall girl, one that looks as if she might be 
 sweethearts with a dentist." 
 
 " Well, what about Grocer Salomon's Elfrida ? " 
 
 " A red-faced thing ! No, I like 'em rather pale, for 
 my part." 
 
 " Well, there's Fanny Due, the shoemaker's girl." 
 
 " Shoemaker ! As well say cobbler and have done 
 with it ! " 
 
 "They're quite looked up to in the place; and
 
 208 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 Fanny's just come out of hospital — I'm sure she's pale 
 enough." 
 
 " Good ! We'll keep her over and have a look at her 
 later on." 
 
 " No, let's see if we can't get it settled now. Take 
 another bit of dough before it goes in the oven." 
 
 " No more now, thanks — it's rather heavy on the 
 stomach if you take a lot. And besides, I'm not sure I 
 ought not to feel insulted when you stand there offering 
 me all these wetched womenfolk just to make me forget 
 my own true love that ever was, my sweetheart of old, 
 Minna Lund ! " 
 
 " Oh, there now, if I hadn't forgot. . . ." 
 
 " Ah, but I didn't forget ! I remembered her at 
 the right moment, I did. Is she still running loose ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes . . . But there's been great changes there, 
 since the old days. Her father died last month, and 
 she's started a millinery business in the shop. Getting 
 on very nicely too, so folk say. And then, besides, she's 
 got her pupils, you know. Singing lessons." 
 
 " Good, good ! " nodded Sivert. " Me and a milhner — 
 me and a milliner with musical talents. Why, I sing 
 myself. Think she's forgotten me ? " 
 
 " No, indeed, I'm sure." 
 
 " There, and I'd hoped and made sure she would. 
 It was she that got them to keep me out of the Club. 
 But if she'd forgotten me, now ..." 
 
 " Well, there, I dare say she has. After all, she's 
 not a child now. And you know how unkind people 
 are — they say she's simply mad on getting a sweetheart. 
 And they say she always recommends customers to take 
 the ugliest hat she's got, so they shan't cut her out. 
 She's getting on for thirty now, you know." 
 
 " Good ! Excellent ! " said Sivert, with satisfaction.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 209 
 
 " But if you want her, take my advice and make 
 haste about it, while father's still got a bit of money 
 left. She's running about just now after this engineer 
 man that's here about the railway. Not for his looks, 
 I'm sure, nor his virtue, but because he's got a yellow 
 overcoat with a strap at the back and a telescope 
 thing on three legs." 
 
 "I'll cut him out and every way surpass him," said 
 Sivert, with a lordly wave of the hand. 
 
 " Don't you think you ought to try and join the 
 Club, then ? " 
 
 Sivert found this suggestion excellent. He took 
 Emanuel along with him as a sort of guide and interpreter. 
 Bookseller Dahlberg entered his name without the 
 slightest objection or any mention of conditions. Sivert 
 stood crackling some notes in his hand. 
 
 " It's four Kroner a year," said Dahlberg. 
 
 " Then I'd hke to pay for three years in advance," 
 said Sivert harshly. 
 
 " For three years ? " Bookseller Dahlberg had a 
 tuft of beard on his under Up that quivered at them when 
 he spoke. 
 
 " Yes," said Sivert stubbornly, in English. 
 
 That summer Sivert was all but an autocrat in the 
 home, his father being away most of the time at the 
 brickworks. The idea was to begin operations at the 
 earUest possible date, but it was soon found that there 
 were various diihculties in connection with plant and 
 material, which led to considerable wastage both of 
 money and time. The boiler was choked with fur, and 
 the driving-band of the engine was gone ; other machinery 
 exhibited like defects. There could be no possibihty 
 now of starting work before the coming spring. Heaven 
 be praised, that there was such a thing as credit ! — 
 14
 
 210 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 Egholm had quite considerable credit in the place for the 
 time being. And then the price of coal — simply horrify- 
 ing ! Also, he would need to have a certain sum in 
 hand for wages for the spring. 
 
 Oh, it was not all delightful to be a great man ! But 
 what did he care for the worry and toil of it all as long 
 as Fru van Haag was pleased with him ? — Fruen with 
 the great brown eyes. 
 
 It was a pleasure, indeed, to overcome difficulties. 
 There was the question of a foreman, for instance — he 
 had had considerable trouble in finding one. But 
 Cornelius Worm took up the matter, and procured a man 
 who was willing — nay, it seemed, more than willing — 
 to accept the post, and seemed to know quite a lot 
 about it. 
 
 One decent burning would set the whole thing right, 
 declared the man. And he, for his part, would be glad 
 to take the faulty bricks which might be found in part 
 payment of wages. There were always a few faulty 
 ones, unfortunately. That sort of thing couldn't be 
 helped. 
 
 Egholm found this quite a good idea, and a contract 
 was drawn up to that effect in the ofi&ce of Cornelius 
 Worm. 
 
 Emanuel and his father went out to the brickworks 
 together; the place looked very desolate and unpromising, 
 thought Emanuel. The winter storms had torn a number 
 of tiles from the roof of the kiln-house, the rafters showing 
 like naked ribs beneath. But this and other dilapida- 
 tions were, after all, but trifles. At last they came to 
 the pits. Egholm smiled and nodded to his son, and 
 said : 
 
 " There ! You won't deny that's something of a 
 sight ! Only think — all that expanse of earth. ..."
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 211 
 
 " What about the quahty of the clay ? " said Emanuel, 
 crumbling a piece in his fingers. 
 
 His father started sUghtly. " You bothering about 
 that, too ? " he said. " Well, to tell the truth, it struck 
 me at first it was pretty poor stuff, but we don't really 
 know — thank goodness for that ! — we don't really know 
 what's good and what's bad. But we can see there's 
 plenty of it ! Lord preserve us ! Why, there can hardly 
 be a bigger deposit anywhere in the country." 
 
 And this was not all exaggeration. The half-faded 
 tracks showed where the fines of metals or the transport 
 of the stuff had been shifted again and again, towards the 
 east, almost up to the boundary of the neighbouring 
 ground. 
 
 Emanuel stood thoughtful for a while. Then, with a 
 half-smile, he said : 
 
 " What is it that gets bigger the more you take out 
 of it ? " 
 
 " Eh ? What do you mean ? Oh — that's an old 
 one. A hole, of course." 
 
 " Exactly. A hole," said Emanuel, waving one 
 finger to indicate the irregular contour of the pits. 
 
 " You mean — they've got a lot out of it already ? 
 Well, yes, I dare say. But there's plenty left for us, 
 you can be sure," said Egholm. And they went on to 
 talk about the work, and the various things to be done 
 before commencing again in the spring. But there was 
 a touch of distraction in Egholm's manner at times, as 
 if he were thinking of something to himself. 
 
 Emanuel was not as a rule occupied to any great 
 extent with matters outside his own personal affairs. 
 Fru van Haag — who ruled, it seemed, over most of the 
 world — had got him a situation in a bank in a neighbour- 
 ing town. That was enough to think about in itself.
 
 212 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 He would be going there to start work in a few days' 
 time. And he was looking forward to it. It was 
 pleasant enough, no doubt, on the swings and round- 
 abouts, but wearying in the long run. 
 
 " Aren't you going away yourself soon ? " he asked 
 Si vert. But Si vert shook his head emphatically. He 
 did not find life dull at home. 
 
 When " The Club " had a picnic in the woods, he 
 was first among the dancers — and last. He put on his 
 "inner fur" when he went out, and his English "Yes" and 
 " No " proved an attraction to many. Sveidal, the en- 
 gineer, might be seen sitting with him in one of the tents 
 over a glass of beer. Sivert talked, and his companions 
 listened — Hr. Sveidal thought of going to America him- 
 self some day. 
 
 " No," said Sivert, in answer to Emanuel's question. 
 " Go away again ? What for ? I'm only just be- 
 ginning to be looked up to here. It's not hke it was 
 in the old days, when I was a lousy glazier's boy. You 
 couldn't expect a princess to look at anything so base 
 and ordinary. No, Minna Lund's my last aim and goal, 
 and I've got to win her this year, before it's too late." 
 
 Emanuel was silent. Sivert was liighly amusing, 
 no doubt, but more to himself than anything else. 
 Hedvig was altogether different. Emanuel sought 
 her counsel when anything troubled him, and she gave 
 immediate answers, sharp and clear, wise and kindly 
 enough, but always with a certain impatient harshness 
 towards what she called humbug, without defining 
 precisely what was referred to. 
 
 Emanuel made a last round of inspection, visiting 
 his plants and birds' nests — it was not these things he 
 was anxious to leave. He felt a trifle saddened at the 
 thought that he would not be able to go to the garden-
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 213 
 
 party at Etatsraaden's. Up till now he had been every 
 year, as far back as he could remember. That is to say, 
 looking on from outside the hedge. But that, too, was 
 something. 
 
 On the 24th of July he left to take up his new post.
 
 XV 
 
 ENGINEER SVEIDAL, after prancing about in 
 Knarreby for some years on his long legs, 
 effecting a sort of espionage, becomes this year 
 a respected resident of the place ; he is having a house 
 built at the back of Egholm's garden — a small house, 
 built of planks and roofed with tarred felt. Ordinarily, 
 it might be termed a shed, but there can be no question 
 of calhng it so in this case, since a real Uve engineer sits 
 there all day, directing the movements of his workmen 
 like a general ordering his soldiers about. They are 
 getting the ground levelled now. Little white and red 
 marking-flags are stuck in here and there, and Hr. Sveidal 
 moves zealously about doing things with a measuring 
 tape and the interesting telescope thing on three legs. 
 
 The town looks on, well pleased with it all. There 
 had been so much strife and dissension anent the site 
 of the new railway station that it came as a relief to 
 have the matter decided, once and for all, by a superior 
 power. Hr. Sveidal had the entry of practically all 
 the better-class houses. He had not much to say for 
 himself, but his yellow coat with the strap at the back 
 was a welcome and refreshing innovation. Moreover, 
 he sang, and that not a Uttle. He had begun taking 
 lessons with Minna Lund after closing-time. 
 
 To tell the truth, his visits were not restricted to 
 after closing-time. Ladies going in to try on a new hat 
 might catch a glimpse of a yellow sleeve pushing to the 
 
 314
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 215 
 
 door of the back parlour every time Minna Lund ran 
 out or in. Minna herself never could remember to shut 
 doors behind her — it was an old habit of hers from her 
 schooldays. 
 
 Already the town was beginning to talk about an 
 engagement between the two. Why should not fate 
 be kind at last to Minna Lund ? Three times for luck, 
 and the fourth time does it. Neither the schoolmaster 
 nor the wine merchant nor Cornehus Worm had proved 
 constant — what more natural, then, that it should turn 
 out to be this half-foreign person at last ? 
 
 Who could forget that Engineer Sveidal had sent 
 a wreath of everlasting beech leaves to Draper Lund's 
 funeral ? 
 
 Minna herself was of the same way of thinking. 
 Why not, she said to herself, and blushed at the thought. 
 And from this time forward she began to advise all young 
 ladies in exact contradiction to her true opinion on the 
 matter of hats, 
 
 " All's fair in love," she told herself. The others 
 had mothers and fathers to help them on, but what had 
 she ? 
 
 The business did not appear to suffer in the least 
 on that account. On the contrary, Minna seemed to 
 be making more than before. She ran through the 
 books and pounced on the balance with a hawk-Hke 
 readiness inherited from her father. Then she went to 
 the glass, turned her head first to the left then to the 
 right, smoothed out a single wrinkle, threw a silk shawl 
 tentatively over her shoulders, and wrote a note to Hr. 
 Sveidal asking him to dinner on Sunday. 
 
 Hr. Sveidal accepted, and the dinner was prepared 
 accordingly. There were no other guests, but the food 
 was good and the wine plentiful.
 
 216 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HA AG 
 
 " Such extravagance ! " said the engineer, as they sat 
 over their coffee. 
 
 " Here, you mean ? Oh, well, I suppose I could 
 manage with less. I could live downstairs, you know, 
 and let out the rooms up here. The dentist would have 
 liked to take them." 
 
 " Well, there's more room than you want for your- 
 self, I should think. Why didn't you let them to the 
 dentist ? " 
 
 " No ; he wouldn't for less than five years." 
 
 " Well, surely that's all to your advantage ? " 
 
 " I want," said Minna, drawing herself up in her 
 chair, " to have a place where I could offer my husband 
 — that is to say, I mean, if ever I were to marry — offer 
 him a home ! " 
 
 Minna stammered a trifle, perhaps, but there was a 
 certain energy in her voice. She flung her cigarette-end 
 with a slap against the stove, though there was an ash- 
 tray within easy reach. 
 
 The engineer sat deep down in a low chair, his knees 
 sticking up to such an extent as to present a slight re- 
 semblance to his own three-legged telescope. 
 
 " And the business can stand it all right," added 
 Minna. " I make more out of my hats than father did 
 out of all his hundred odd things. And the premises 
 here will rise in value, too, as the town develops. What 
 do you think yourself, Hr. Sveidal ? Do you think 
 I'm living beyond my means ? " 
 
 " I know I am," said the engineer. He seemed 
 pondering deeply over something or other. " At least, 
 I'm paying more than I ought. Two-and-a-half Kroner 
 a day for a single room at the hotel — it's too much, really, 
 you know." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said Minna warmly.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 217 
 
 " I could get a whole suite of rooms for that." 
 
 " Yes. . . ." 
 
 " And here are all these rooms of yours never used 
 except a few hours of the day. It seems a waste. ..." 
 
 " It is a waste," Minna agreed. " Oh, give me a 
 light, do you mind ? Thanks so much." 
 
 " And, really, I've got an idea. I want to ask your 
 advice. I can't advise you, you know, but you might 
 help me. . . ." 
 
 Hr. Sveidal took out his pocket lighter ; Minna had 
 been a trifle too violent with his cigarette. 
 
 " And that is . . ." said Minna expectantly. 
 
 Hr. Sveidal turned towards her, with a gleam in his 
 eyes. 
 
 " Suppose, now, I was thinking — ^if I were to set up a 
 camp-bed in the drawing-oflice now, just for the summer, 
 do you think — well — think people would laugh at the 
 idea ? " 
 
 " Really, I've no idea," said Minna coldly. And 
 she rose suddenly from her seat with such violence 
 that her liqueur glass feU from the table and roUed along 
 the carpet. 
 
 " Allow me ! " The engineer bent down to pick it 
 up. " It's all right — not broken." 
 
 But Minna laughed, a shrill, harsh laugh, and crushed 
 the glass under her heel. Then she went over to the 
 piano. Hr. Sveidal rose and shambled after her, 
 
 " Of course, since you laugh at the idea yourself," he 
 said, " I understand. But do me a favour — don't say a 
 word about it to anyone in the town. I never thought 
 of doing it, really, you know. It was just an idea of 
 mine. . . ." 
 
 Minna sang, and later allowed Hr. Sveidal to take 
 his turn. She wrestled wdth him, forced him to open his
 
 218 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 mouth to its widest, and abused him roundly. But 
 when he had finished, she recovered her good humour, 
 and sat down to sing herself once more. 
 
 "Awfully pretty, that one," said Hr. Sveidal. 
 
 '\Do you think so ? Yes, it's quite a touching little 
 thing, really," said Minna, leaning back and looking up 
 at him. 
 
 " Touching, yes, that's just the word. How does 
 it begin now : something about a hall . . . ' in hall the 
 rest are sleeping . , .' " 
 
 Minna laughed again harshly as before. 
 
 " Hall ? Whatever are you talking about ? ' When 
 all the rest are sleeping — my heart goes out to you.' And 
 you didn't even understand a word of it. Oh, how like 
 a man ! " 
 
 Sveidal apologised. He Uked the song awfully, he 
 said, and wrote out the words in his notebook from 
 Minna's dictation. She promised to teach him it some 
 day. 
 
 They sat chatting pleasantly for a little while ; then 
 Hr. Sveidal regretted he must be going. 
 
 " Going ? " said Minna in astonishment. " Why, 
 it's only nine o'clock. We've hardly had our meal." 
 
 Unfortunately, the engineer had a most important 
 letter to write — simply couldn't put it off. And he 
 frowned as one burdened with weighty duties. 
 
 " But you can write it here." 
 
 No, sorry, but he couldn't. As a matter of fact, 
 it wasn't the letter so much, but the stamp. Now, 
 where could he get a stamp on a Sunday evening ? He 
 would have to go round and try to borrow one some- 
 where. 
 
 " I've got stamps," said Minna, with a smile. 
 " Downstairs in the shop. I'll get you one. . . ."
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 219 
 
 " Oh, thanks ever so — but there's no hurry. It can 
 wait till I go." 
 
 " All right, as you Uke. I always buy them by the 
 sheet, you know. Father always used to. Just as well 
 to get the reduction while you're about it." 
 
 " Fine man, your father," said Sveidal, glancing up 
 involuntarily to the picture of Lund above the door. 
 " What is that uniform he's taken in, by the way ? " 
 
 " Oh, that's when he got the championship in the 
 shooting-club. Yes, I dare say he was clever in some 
 ways, but he was always mixing himself up in things 
 he'd better have left alone. That shooting-club, now. 
 It cost him a couple of hundred Kroner, that champion- 
 ship, and d'you think it ever did the business any good ? 
 Not the price of a sour herring ! " 
 
 " What did your father die of, if it's not rude to ask ? " 
 
 " He died of just that same silly habit — taking up 
 all sorts of things that didn't concern him. Thought 
 it was business — but it wasn't. He was mad on this 
 tourist project, you know. Making Knarreby a show 
 place, and brightening up trade. But there never came 
 a single tourist after all, and he'd laid in a huge stock 
 of bathing-dresses and towels and things. Then one 
 day he went off himself with a great big red-striped bath- 
 towel over his shoulder to have a bathe — the first time 
 he'd ever done such a thing in his hfe. Thought he'd 
 set the fashion, you understand, and make the place 
 a seaside resort. Next day he was down with inflam- 
 mation of the lungs, and that finished him. That 
 wreath of yours was simply lovely, Hr. Sveidal. Every- 
 body said so. And it kept such a long time, too." 
 
 Sveidal stroked his chin and said it was really 
 nothing, nothing at all. But Minna hauled forth the 
 locket on her watch-chain and showed him two red
 
 220 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 beech leaves inside. " Yes . . ." she said, with great 
 expression. After that she got the engineer out into 
 the kitchen to boil some water for claret punch ; she 
 had sent the maid home directly after dinner, Minna 
 herself looked neat and attractive enough among the 
 kitchen things — with the result that Hr. Sveidal kissed 
 her once or twice before the water boiled. 
 
 They took their cordial at a Uttle table in front of 
 the big sofa, sitting quite close together. But there 
 was no more kissing. The engineer seemed if possible 
 even more silent than before, and even lankier ; his 
 knees stuck up Uke sharp, unscaleable peaks in front 
 of him. Minna tried going out into the kitchen again 
 for some more sugar, and got him to go with her, but 
 even that failed of its effect. Not till she led the con- 
 versation once more round to his work did he grow a 
 trifle brighter. He was expecting a new machine one 
 of these days, a concrete mixer. Possibly two, he ex- 
 plained, and his voice grew hoarser as he spoke. Yes, 
 he was in charge of the whole thing — nobody over him, 
 no. In a few days' time he would have all Egholm's 
 poplars cut down, and the whole of the garden carted 
 away. For the Egholms had only rented the house, 
 and that only till such time as he, Sveidal, demanded 
 its evacuation and demohshment. 
 
 Minna nodded admiringly. 
 
 Though, of course, Egholm was a decent sort ; Hr. 
 Sveidal would not think of troubhng him out of any ill- 
 will. The house might be left as it was for six months 
 or so yet — and for the matter of that, the trees and 
 garden too. He, Sveidal, would see what could be done 
 about it. 
 
 Minna nodded even more admiringly. 
 
 Engineer Sveidal was touched by all this admira-
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 221 
 
 tion. He went on to say that a man like Egholm was a 
 man one ought to help as far as possible — instead of 
 taking advantage of him, as Cornelius Worm the lawyer 
 had done. 
 
 " What's Cornehus Worm done ? " 
 
 " Didn't you know ? Why, he's got him to buy 
 a brickworks that's nothing left of it but a gravel 
 pit ! " 
 
 " Just the sort of thing that fellow would do," 
 said Minna, with clenched teeth. " He always was a 
 scoundrel." 
 
 " Yes — and he goes about boasting of it down at 
 the hotel." 
 
 " You'd never do a thing Uke that, / know," said 
 Minna, touching his glass Hghtly with her own. 
 
 It was getting late now, and Hr. Sveidal took his 
 leave, with many thanks for a pleasant evening. Minna 
 insisted on showing him down the stairs, and the stair- 
 way being dark, she put one arm round his neck to save 
 herself from falUng. 
 
 It was a fine, calm summer night outside. 
 
 " Isn't that some one standing by the fence over 
 there ? " said Sveidal. 
 
 " No — it's only the shadow." 
 
 But the shadow moved as she spoke, and stole 
 quietly away. The hght from the window above fell 
 across its path, and Minna exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh — yes, it is. It's Sivert Egholm. He's always 
 hanging about here, day and night." 
 
 " Egholm's son— the one that's been to America ? " 
 
 " Yes. I'm sure I don't know what he's think- 
 ing of." 
 
 " Ah ! You're not particularly taken with him 
 yourself, then ? "
 
 222 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " I ? Good heavens, no. What an idea ! " 
 
 " Well, I don't know. He seems quite a decent 
 sort. I see him almost every day — I've talked to him 
 a good deal. He's seen no end of things over there, you 
 know. And he's fond of music, too — singing. I fancy 
 he said something about taking lessons with you, 
 Froken Lund." 
 
 " With me ? Not if I know it. No, if I'm to have 
 gentlemen pupils, they must be fine upstanding men 
 that look a bit smart — not a Uttle idiot hke that." 
 
 Perhaps by way of showing what she expected of 
 her fine upstanding pupils, Minna threw her other arm 
 round Hr. Sveidal's neck, and drew his head down 
 towards her. 
 
 " Thanks, delightful evening," he gasped, a little 
 out of breath. " But — about that stamp. If it's not 
 troubling you. . . . Only one — ten 0re, And an 
 envelope, if you have one." 
 
 " A big one, do you want ? " asked Minna, going into 
 the shop. 
 
 " It's all the same, as long as it's an envelope. I've 
 paper myself." 
 
 " Does it matter if my name's on it ? " 
 
 " Oh . . . No, I'm afraid that won't do. No. But 
 it doesn't matter, really." 
 
 " Here's one." -^ 
 
 " Thanks, thanks ever so much." 
 
 " Sveidal, would you hke to do me a favour in 
 return ? Will you ? Take me with you to the garden- 
 party at Etatsraaden's next month ? " 
 
 " I'd be dehghted. But they haven't asked me, I'm 
 sorry to say." 
 
 " Thanks, thanks, Sveidal — then that's a bargain. 
 For they're going to ask you — I happen to know. And
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 223 
 
 they always send out the invitations with ' and lady.' 
 Oh, won't it be lovely ! " 
 
 With this they parted. The engineer went shambUng 
 off at his lanky stride down the street. He did not go 
 straight back to the hotel, but turned in through 
 Stationsvej. He had to get that letter off by the night 
 train. 
 
 A little way along he came up with Sivert, and the 
 two joined company. 
 
 " I'd got such a beastly goddam toothache," said 
 Sivert, " so I got up and went out." 
 
 " Weren't you standing down there a little while 
 back outside Frk. Lund's ? " 
 
 " Did you see me ? " whispered Sivert. 
 
 " No, I didn't. But Fr0ken Lund said it was you." 
 
 " Oh, well, must be somewhere, you know. And I 
 thought perhaps a little pretty song might ease the 
 pain. And so Minna saw me ? More than I'd dared 
 to hope. She didn't say anything about me, I suppose ? " 
 
 " No, not a word." 
 
 " No, of course not — she's very good that way." 
 
 " Well, I said you were fond of music, and then she 
 said she'd like to have you for a pupil," 
 
 Sivert all but collapsed under the weight of this 
 astonishing announcement. Then a moment later he 
 leaped up in the air, waved both arms wildly, and said, 
 with a hoarse laugh : 
 
 " Heavens above ! All the world shall hear my 
 voice ! And she's going to give me lessons herself ! 
 You're sure it's singing-lessons she meant ? Not lessons 
 in milUnery, for instance ? No, no, of course. . . ." 
 
 Sivert rattled on unceasingly ; now and again the 
 engineer broke in with a short laugh. He found it all 
 very am.using, but he was altogether incapable of judging
 
 224 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 character. Lawyer Worm was a swindler, for he had 
 said so himself. But, otherwise, everybody was nice 
 and kind and all alike. 
 
 " I'm going up to the station," said Sveidal. 
 
 " I'll go with you. Couldn't think of going to bed 
 again after this. Do you know, I've been standing 
 there four soHd hours by her fence to-night, in the 
 hopes of hearing her delicious waiUng ? Yes, I'll go 
 and have a lesson this very night." 
 
 Sveidal took out his notebook, tore out two pages, 
 and put them in the envelope. Then he wrote the 
 address in his childish hand : " Frk. Emmy Meyer, 
 Falkoneralle 38, Copenhagen." 
 
 He went out on to the platform and put the letter 
 in the box. And thus it came about that Minna Lund's 
 song went fluttering farther abroad than she had thought.
 
 XVI 
 
 THE 17th of August comes round — the great day 
 for Knarreby, the day of Etatsraaden's garden- 
 party. It looks, moreover, as if it will be a 
 bigger affair this year than ever before. There are 
 rumours as to the purchase of enormous quantities 
 of paper lanterns, of pastries on an unprecedented 
 scale. 
 
 Emanuel came home by the midday train — he had 
 got leave from the office specially to enjoy a treat that 
 had been his since he was a child. He had some cuttings 
 with him, for his mother, from the Bank Manager's 
 drooping fuchsia — stolen cuttings they were, and could 
 not possibly fail to grow. She was pleased and grateful 
 for the gift, but said that he and Sivert would have to 
 go alone to watch the fete in the evening, for their father 
 was not at all in the mood for that sort of thing. He 
 was always tearing out to the brickworks now, and 
 coming back with wrinkles many and deep in his 
 forehead. The bundle of notes had dwindled to the 
 thickness of a thin slice of bread, and it was Httle 
 consolation that the bills unpaid had in the same time 
 mounted up to a pile beyond the span of any ordinary 
 jaws. 
 
 " All the more reason for him to come ; cheer him 
 up," said Emanuel. 
 
 " Well, well, you'd better ask him yourself, dear." 
 
 Emanuel asked after his brother. Fru Egholm 
 15
 
 226 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 reported evasively that Sivcrt seemed delighted beyond 
 measure at something or other these days ; he had got 
 himself new collars and a new black bowler hat — a 
 trifle too big for him, she thought — and then to-day he 
 had been out and had his photo taken. Not by father, 
 no — who ever heard of such a thing ! He had actually 
 gone to the new fellow, Eiermann, who had started a 
 smart little business in the same Une. And the night 
 before he had been to an open - air dance out in 
 Kongeskoven. 
 
 " Oh, he must be mad ! " said Emanuel. 
 
 " Ah, we mustn't forget he's used to bigger things 
 over there," said his mother deprecatingly. 
 
 A thunderstorm was gathering over the town, with 
 heavy showers, which drove first Sivert, then his father, 
 home. 
 
 " Where've you been ? " asked Emanuel as Sivert 
 came in. 
 
 " Out with Sveidal. We go about together all day 
 now. I tell him all about my adventures, how I was 
 husking corn in the West, and got hoisted up to the roof 
 all naked, with a woman looking on. How I killed 
 Nigger Jim, and how my own eyes have glittered over 
 the Niagara Falls. I was beastly sick there, too. Come 
 over there with me, and I'll show you the very spot —   
 between two rocks. Then you can see the great big 
 waterfall at the same time." 
 
 " Is that what you do all day, then ? " 
 
 " Ah, but I don't do it for nothing. Sveidal he invites 
 me to Minna Lund's in return. She thinks me charming 
 already, and wants me to teach her singing ! " 
 
 Egholm had been out at the brickworks. He 
 livened up at once on hearing it was the day of the 
 garden fete.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 227 
 
 " We must go and have a look," he said. And 
 standing in front of the glass, he began pulling grey 
 hairs out of his beard. 
 
 " And they say," put in Fru Egholm, " there's to be 
 fireworks or something wonderful extra this evening, 
 because of being a jubilee of some sort." 
 
 At half -past seven the family set out, walking 
 down over the fields by the beach. The rain had 
 ceased ; the whole of the western sky was red. A 
 rich salt smell breathed out from the water and 
 the banks of wet weed along the shore. Busy 
 little waves were hurr3dng home to bed. Now and 
 again Emanuel picked up a fiat stone, weighed it 
 critically in his hand, and sent it fi3ang like a freed 
 bird out over the water, touching the surface far out 
 with tiny feet — once — twice — many times in succes- 
 sion. 
 
 " Ah," said Sivert, " you're a marvel without com- 
 pare. A perfect Croesus at all manner of stone-throwing 
 tricks." 
 
 Emanuel went on with his ducks and drakes un- 
 heeding. 
 
 Sivert began again : 
 
 " You're a wonder, yes, but ..." 
 
 Emanuel looked up ; he had been waiting for some- 
 thing to follow, and it interested him moi? than the 
 praise that went before it. 
 
 " But," said Sivert, with a dreamy laugh, " Fve out- 
 Croesed you last night, my son." 
 
 " How do you mean ? " 
 
 " Last night I gained the victory over Minna Lund 
 and her love — and to-day Fve had my photo taken in a 
 highly remarkable pose." 
 
 " Did you really dance with her last night ? "
 
 228 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " Did I not 1 Wliy, she had her arm round my 
 collar nearly all the evening ! " 
 
 " Oh, I don't want to hear any more of that stuff," 
 said Emanuel, turning away to pick up a new stone. 
 
 Then said Sivert, with a sigh : 
 
 " Well, I don't mind telling you, it was my fixed 
 intention to dance with her, and propose to her as well. 
 But when she came prancing up with that engineer 
 fellow, why, I changed my mind to something else — and 
 something a great deal better 1 " 
 
 " Went home, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Yes. But, first of all, I stood and regarded her 
 critically with averted head for five minutes at least. 
 And then I went — went, without heeding my ticket that 
 I'd paid for and hardly used at all. And now I've 
 furthermore sacrificed five Kroner on a dozen photo- 
 graphs of myself — all for her." 
 
 " But — you don't mean to say Eiermann takes 
 five Kroner the dozen ? " 
 
 " He wanted one Krone extra for sticking me up in the 
 show-case outside. And there I'll be like a portent and 
 a warning to remind her of me. Eiermann's show-case 
 is just opposite her window." 
 
 Emanuel laughed, and went on throwing stones. 
 Then he walked on sedately for a while, but, catching 
 sight of a sea-urchin newly washed up among the weed, 
 he picked it up, from force of boyish habit, and put it in 
 his pocket. 
 
 " What do you want that for ? " 
 Emanuel was embarrassed ; he could hardly say 
 himself what a bank clerk could possibly want with a 
 sea-urchin. And, by way of excusing himself, he tried 
 to make out that his find was something of exceptional 
 rarity and value.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 229 
 
 " And perhaps I'll present it to some museum. Look 
 at the way these spines are arranged,now — all in a pattern. 
 And its eyes are all here on the underside." 
 
 " Funny place to put them. Nasty, I call it." 
 
 " Ah, but it's just that that makes it a curiosity." 
 
 " Oh, all right. You can keep your curiosities for me. 
 But that's just the sort of thing people like, I suppose. 
 Something out of the ordinary. A yellow coat with a 
 strap at the back, and a telescope thing on three legs. 
 But when I'm stuck up in the show-case, photographed 
 in a curiously mournful pose and woeful look, I'll get her 
 to screw her eyes round the right way. My way. 
 You wait and see." 
 
 The two elders, walking on ahead, stopped and 
 beckoned. From where they stood, they could see right 
 up the slope into Etatsraaden's garden. There were 
 a few spectators gathered here already, but these were 
 persons of no consideration whatever ; the better 
 class began farther up, towards Stationsvejen, where one 
 could look right across the lawn to the brilliantly lighted 
 house. 
 
 Two men with folding ladders were moving down the 
 garden paths, Hghting the coloured lanterns. 
 
 The Egholms joined up in silence with the low ranks 
 of people already assembled, resting their hands on the 
 fencing and waiting patiently for something to happen. 
 The dark was growing denser now ; out across the Belt, 
 the red sky had changed to a deep dark blue. 
 
 " Look — just Hke a ship," said Fru Egholm. 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 " The mansion there — I mean the house. Sailing 
 towards us with all the lights. . . ." 
 
 Egholm could see it, yes. He stood there long, 
 watching it sail, and enjoying the idea. When he closed
 
 230 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 his eyes and opened them again, he could fancy it had 
 come closer. 
 
 Now they would be sitting down to table, no 
 doubt. Only the women and girls waiting on the 
 guests could be seen now and again as they flitted past 
 the windows, generally envied by those watching from 
 without. 
 
 Ah, now they were singing ! The watchers hummed 
 the refrain : " And this is to greet ..." with a feehng 
 as if it made them in some way partakers in the feast. 
 Suddenly there was a noise of chairs being pushed back 
 and the guests returning thanks to host and hostess. 
 At the same moment the verandah doors were thrown 
 open, and cries of delight were heard at sight of the garden 
 walks dotted all round with specks of fire in red and yellow, 
 green and blue, as if some lucky spider had been spinning 
 its glistening dew-pearled web over Etatsraaden's garden 
 and all that was his. 
 
 The first couple swept down the steps along the 
 gravel paths and down over the daintily close-cropped 
 lawns. Young voices sounded from under the trees. 
 One of the gentlemen took down a paper lantern, picking 
 it hke a fruit from its branch, and all the ladies came 
 up to fight their cigarettes by it. 
 
 The broad walk led away to the right, marked out 
 with hundreds of light-buoys so that none should get 
 out of their course. Nevertheless, it happened that 
 first a tall, somewhat stooping figure of a man, and 
 later, a woman, tall and upright in a pink dress, turned 
 off the wrong way — to the left — and moved away into 
 the dark, both moving more rapidly than any of the 
 others. 
 
 " Did you see them ? " whispered Si vert. 
 
 " Them ? Who ? "
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 231 
 
 " Minna and that Sveidal. Creeping off in the dark. 
 Rather smart of them — what ? " 
 
 " Very good idea, no doubt," said Emanuel. 
 
 " Ah — confess now, you thought it'd make me wild ! " 
 said Si vert, nudging his brother in the ribs. " Confess 
 it ! But there's nobody in the world knows the mysteri- 
 ous workings of my mind. Yes, I reckon it out like 
 this : the engineer fellow's all right to wake up a so- 
 called affection in her breast, but when the right time 
 comes, she'll turn it all over to me. She's incHned to 
 favour him just now, by reason of his railway-engineer- 
 ing-telescope thing ; but suppose I was built differently, 
 now, say with my eyes all round on the underside, 
 like that creature you picked up just now, why, then, / 
 should be a rarity, and she'd take me on the spot. But 
 I'm not going to. I know well enough I'm rare as it is, 
 both inside and out. And I'll keep my eyes where 
 they are, spread round my forehead in the old-fashioned 
 style, as you'll be able to see very soon in a gold-lined 
 show-case outside Eiermann's." 
 
 The time for the fireworks had arrived, and the 
 guests were gathering in front of the house ready to 
 march down in couples to the open space by the 
 beach. 
 
 Nicolaysen the wheelwright — and incidentally leader 
 of the orchestra — having feasted with his musicians on 
 the crumbs from Etatsraaden's table, came out on the 
 balcony and sounded the assembly. 
 
 The watchers by the hedge shifted their feet ; their 
 eyes glowed in the dark hke the eyes of wild beasts 
 about a white man's camp-fire. 
 
 Then the many-coloured serpent moved off. It 
 would pass close up to the hedge — and this was the 
 most exciting moment for the many there assembled.
 
 232 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 Those of a modest temperament drew back a little ; 
 others, who year after year had watched from the same 
 gaps in the hedge, did not move. They looked at the 
 ladies, and they looked at the gentlemen. Some of the 
 latter bore witness by their gait to the excellence of 
 Etatsraaden's cellar. The young men tore off green 
 leaves and " popped " them between their hands. One 
 could be seen drawing the figure of a heart in the air 
 with the glowing end of his cigar. 
 
 Here was Rothe with Fru Weisz, his arm round her 
 waist. And there was Minna with her engineer, the two 
 leaning inward, each towards the other, so that either 
 would have fallen had the one been suddenly removed. 
 
 Sivert whispered : 
 
 " Look there— all's going just as I could wish. She'll 
 soon be ripe for me, now ! " 
 
 A httle behind the rest came Fru van Haag, with 
 Etatsraaden himself. 
 
 The Egholms were among those who had drawn 
 back a httle when the procession began, but Egholm 
 had involuntarily taken off his hat, and his bald pate 
 being conspicuous in any sort of hght, Fruen perceived 
 him, all the same. She judged that his wife must be 
 there too, and waved her white hand till the shawl 
 sUpped from her shoulders. She even stood still and 
 called softly, " Good evening. Little Mother ! " 
 
 There was never any saying what Fruen might or 
 might not do. 
 
 Fru Egholm blushed and curtseyed out in the dark ; 
 then an idea occurred to her. She nudged Sivert from 
 behind, and said eagerly : 
 
 " Go up and say your ' No ' and ' Yes ' in English." 
 
 " Augh I Let me alone," said Sivert, and sprang 
 aside.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 233 
 
 Meantime, Fru van Haag had passed on. 
 
 There was a moment of expectant silence all round. 
 Big furry moths could be seen blundering against the 
 lanterns. A railway engine whistled somewhere in the 
 distance. Then the first of the maroons went off, and 
 a terrified blackbird shrieked in answer. 
 
 A murmur of admiring wonder from the spectators ; 
 rockets were sending up swift -growing orchids to bloom 
 against the depth of the sky. Catherine-wheels whirled 
 round, and sheaves of golden fire burned here and there ; 
 now came a roar, and another, then the fierce, exciting 
 hiss of soaring rockets again. 
 
 " Ah, this is something like a fete," said 
 Egholm, and lapsed into a silence of concentrated 
 feeling. 
 
 Fru Egholm's eyes ghttered. Oh, it was lovely, 
 lovely I 
 
 Some of the spectators got beyond control ; they 
 broke through the hedge and trampled on a flower-bed 
 where a rocket had been seen to fall. 
 
 The Egholms walked home along Stationsvej, the 
 head of the family leading, with his eyes fixed on the 
 ground. A Uttle behind their parents trailed the two 
 brothers together. 
 
 " Oh, hell and all," moaned Sivert ; " why didn't 
 I go up and say ' No ' and ' Yes ' as mother said ? It 
 would have helped me on more than a thousand dollars 
 if I had." 
 
 " No and yes ? " said Emanuel, with a smile. 
 
 " Yes, or ' Have a drink,' or any other httle motto 
 Kke that. Why didn't I do it ? I might have crept 
 through the hedge and gone after them in the dark — 
 might have been mistaken for anybody ; I might have 
 got up to where Minna was herself ! "
 
 234 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " You're pretty badly in love," said Emanuel. 
 
 Sivert shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Oh, in love with her — it's not exactly that so 
 much. It's more a sort of galloping consumption — 
 galloping after her, you understand. She's getting a 
 bit faded now, and there's no time to lose. But I can 
 remember her when her cheeks were as red and round 
 as the backside of an angel." 
 
 Emanuel ruminated for a moment over this mixture 
 of sense and lunacy. Then, with unfeigned interest, he 
 said : 
 
 " How on earth do you manage to know exactly how 
 things are, and yet play the goat like you do about it, 
 as if . . ." 
 
 Sivert interrupted him. 
 
 " I know what you mean. It's due entirely to my 
 remarkable inner qualities. I know exactly how things 
 come about in the world. I know the old man, for 
 instance, will be bankrupt before this year's out. Ask 
 me anything you like, and I'll tell you ! " 
 
 He raised his arms in a prophetic gesture, and 
 went on : 
 
 " I say unto you — I — yes, and you too, seeing you're 
 my brother — we're the strangest people on earth. 
 We're not like others — we're better. We shall be 
 famous throughout the world one day, you and I. 
 We're the only people in the world that can think thoughts 
 they don't understand themselves ! Before the old man's 
 tumbled in the ditch, you'll see Minna Lund groaning 
 at my feet. Thus I prophesy before you, and thus is 
 my unalterable will that's not to be shaken. More 
 especially after going to the photographer's to-day, 
 head up, arms down, and paying him four Kroner plus 
 one extra for hanging me outside."
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 235 
 
 " It'll be some time yet before your wedding," said 
 Emanuel. 
 
 On the following day Emanuel went back to his 
 work in the bank. He felt something hke longing for 
 the long, dry columns of figures. 
 
 Three weeks passed before he began thinking 
 vaguely once more about a trip home. And then came 
 a letter — one of his mother's well-known epistles, sealed 
 with a thimble on the back. It seemed a trifle thicker 
 than usual. He opened it, and found eight closely 
 written pages, which set his mind in the greatest ex- 
 citement. Now he laughed wildly ; now he sank into 
 deep meditation ; now he flung the letter down furiously, 
 only to pick it up a moment after and read on with 
 staring eyes. 
 
 This is what it said : 
 
 " My own dearest Boy, — I half expected to see 
 you over here last Sunday, but as you didn't come, I 
 must write and tell you the great glad news : that our 
 own Si vert is now really and truly engaged to Minna. 
 Hearty congratulations and thanks to God for your 
 brother, my dear boy. We should go down on our 
 knees and give thanks for this great joy and exaltation. 
 I almost felt I could hardly talk to him like his own 
 mother the first day after. For it does seem a great 
 thing, really, and a thousand times greater than seven 
 brickworks that do more harm than good. For that's 
 what it is. Father's lost his colour dreadfully of late, 
 and they're always coming along to him with biUs for 
 this and that, and he's hardly any money to pay with. 
 He doesn't bother about his own business now, and 
 the money in the string's nearly all gone. And it's
 
 236 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 all because of the miserable brickworks too that we've 
 got this daddy-long-legs of an engineer tramping about 
 my garden. But God's always gracious all the same, 
 as we can see with Minna and Sivert now. She hasn't 
 been here yet, but she's coming soon, she says. I wish 
 it would be Sunday, and you were home to brighten 
 things up too. Do write if you can come, then I'll ask 
 Sivert to talk to her and get her to make it Sunday, for 
 he's great influence with her, I know. He goes there 
 nearly every day, and they've got a special hcence, so 
 they can be married soon — and Heaven bless the happy 
 pair. Truly we've much to be thankful for, and the evil 
 as well as the good. Even for that miserable spectre of 
 an engineer that tramples down my ferns and roses, we 
 should give thanks for it all. For after all it was really 
 him that got Sivert his Minna and so much joy to us 
 all. For that night at Etatsraaden's he got up on a 
 chair — having turned a bit lively after it all, and only 
 natural — and announced he was engaged to somebody 
 in Copenhagen. And Minna had convulsions and had 
 to be taken home, but the day after she wrote to 
 Sivert, and now they're engaged, and thanks be to 
 God for the engineer and the convulsions too. She'll 
 be happy enough with him, I know, when she gets to 
 know him. And that she's a good girl I'm sure, from 
 everything she does. There's a whole lot of boxes of 
 things, now, she's got up in the loft there, from the time 
 when they had the drapery business, and she lets him 
 take what he hkes. And I do call that really nice of 
 her, now, though the collars and things are a bit ample, 
 perhaps, having thought at first of somebody else that's 
 more in the lanky superior way than our own dear 
 boy. 
 
 "So do come, now, and go for a walk with them
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 237 
 
 through the town, or perhaps in somewhere for a cup of 
 coffee, or whatever's the proper thing for people of your 
 sort. You needn't be here in the house, of course, more 
 than just a minute or so. 
 
 " And now to conclude, best love from us all. The 
 cactus with the white hair's got a young one now. But 
 first of all, of course, do remember to be perfectly serious 
 all the time and not a sign of anything else. For it 
 would be a sin and a shame to let them see it any other 
 way. — Your loving Mother." 
 
 Emanuel's feeling, after the first confusion had 
 subsided, was one of strange anxiety and unrest. He 
 could not make out the affair at all. One thing, how- 
 ever, he did know : he was not going home to " brighten 
 it up." On the other hand, he would not willingly 
 destroy a thing which possibly might be of more value 
 than he knew. Minna and Sivert ! It was like harness- 
 ing a fiery mare and a billy-goat together. No, it would 
 never do ; it was hopeless from the first. 
 
 But the billy-goat had foretold — had wisely foreseen 
 — what appeared incomprehensible I 
 
 Emanuel curbed his home-sickness and his curiosity; 
 he sought company in the town, and remained there 
 week after week. Nevertheless, he remained anxiously 
 on the look out towards home, and opened his mother's 
 letters with greater eagerness than ever before. " You 
 are hereby solemnly invited to the wedding on the 
 28th of September," she wrote one day. 
 
 Emanuel wrote to his sister Hedvig, who answered 
 as follows : 
 
 " Yes, I am invited too, but I think we had better 
 not. I understand you feel just as I do about it all ;
 
 238 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 there's that about you and me, anything with a taste 
 of humbug about it makes us sick. And we hate 
 cloves, because we had too much of father's abomin- 
 able clove tea when we were children. I hate 
 humbug. It's the strongest feeling in me. Stronger 
 than love. 
 
 " I loved a man once. He was harsh and cruel, 
 and I knew it, but I gave in to it without a word. But 
 I broke it off with him the very day I saw he was a hum- 
 bug too. That sort of thing must be crushed — whether 
 it's religious madness as with father, or music madness 
 as with the other. He still writes to me. But I don't 
 answer. 
 
 " If I ever do marry a man, it'll be one that's sound 
 and honest to the core. 
 
 " You may hear something later about me and some 
 one else. I only want to ask Fru van Haag's advice 
 about it first — though she's a humbug too, like nearly 
 everybody else. 
 
 " Don't go to that wedding. — Your loving sister, 
 
 " Hedvig." 
 
 Emanuel nodded to himself. Yes, he would be like 
 Hedvig. No humbug, no hes and masquerading. 
 
 He knew well enough who it was Hedvig meant 
 with the man she had loved — it was the painter, 
 Johan Fors. And Hedvig herself could hardly have 
 failed to see what they said in the papers about that 
 same Johan — that he was now a successful artist in 
 Paris. 
 
 No, Hedvig knew her own mind. She saw her 
 way, straight ahead, though it led through fire and 
 water. 
 
 But who could it be she was thinking of now — the
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 239 
 
 other man ? A marvel he must be — a pyramid of a 
 man, with four clear-cut sides of smooth stone ! 
 
 Emanuel took up his pen, while the energy induced 
 by Hedvig's letter was still strong in him, and wrote 
 declining the invitation to the wedding.
 
 XVII 
 
 SIVERT'S wedding is over. It was a grand wedding, 
 with lots of people, both in the church and 
 after. The bride's parents were both dead and 
 buried, but the bridegroom had his father and mother ; 
 both came, and enjoyed the occasion immensely — 
 especially his mother. 
 
 But what is the good of a great occasion when there's 
 no one to talk to about it after ? Anna had no one. 
 
 She could not talk to her husband — his festive mood 
 passed off the same evening, and he fell back once more 
 to his speculations and worrying over the brickwork 
 business. 
 
 Nor, alas, could she confide in Fru van Haag — Fruen 
 had been strangely silent and sad of late, as if she were 
 
 m. 
 
 Anna wrote to Emanuel — " Why don't you come 
 home, dear ? Come as soon as ever you can, so I can 
 tell you all about the wedding. You've no idea what 
 a sight it was, to see Sivert walking up the church in 
 shiny white gloves, led by his father. Minna was 
 handed up the aisle by Engineer Sveidal ; she has already 
 forgiven him. We two old people — your father and I 
 — went home early, but we saw the best part of it, all 
 the same. So come home now, and I'll tell you all 
 about it." 
 
 And Emanuel came at last. But Emanuel's way is 
 
 to investigate things thoroughly for himself ; conse- 
 
 240
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 241 
 
 quently, he pays but little heed to his mother's flowery 
 outpourings, and goes off himself, somewhat anxiously, 
 to pay a visit to the newly married pair. 
 
 He bought some flowers on the way, and went 
 straight into Minna's shop. Minna came through from 
 the back room, in a black apron with embroidered edges, 
 a bright pair of scissors hung by a silk cord round her 
 waist. Here and there a fragment of thread clung to 
 her dress. Emanuel summed up her appearance in a 
 general impression of something healthy and business- 
 Uke, which altogether effaced the irony that had been 
 gathering in him till then. It was nice of her too, he 
 thought, that she said not a word about his having 
 stayed away on the occasion of the wedding. She 
 simply gave an order, in a voice of authority, to a young 
 lady in the shop — evidently a learner — and went up- 
 stairs with him at once. Wine and glasses were brought 
 out in a moment ; welcome — congratulations — thanks, 
 and so on. 
 
 Then, with a business-like air that happily saved 
 the whole thing from being ridiculous, she went round 
 pointing out things high and low — palms and pictures, 
 candlesticks and silver. 
 
 " From my uncle — from Rothe — from S0rensen in 
 Randers ; only feel the weight of it ! He was a friend 
 of father's, you know. From Weisz's — from the van 
 Haags. And look here — a golden necklace — that's 
 from my husband himself." 
 
 Minna's one little lie ! Emanuel knew that gold 
 chain with the locket well enough. His keen, boyish 
 eyes had seen it hanging round Minna's neck as long as 
 he could remember. But she had pohshed it up and 
 . . . well, after all, the lie was only meant to make her 
 husband seem a little more than he was. 
 i6
 
 242 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " Si vert is not at home ? " asked Emanuel. 
 
 " My husband's down in the cellar. Sawing wood. 
 I've bought two loads, and he's to cut it all up." 
 
 Again this refreshing clearness and frankness in all 
 things, "/have bought . . ." " J/^'s /o cut it up. . . ." 
 
 " But what about his glazier's business ? " asked 
 Emanuel again. " Is he giving that up ? " 
 
 " No. I don't mind people knowing that there's a 
 glazier down below. But I won't have any sign hung 
 up outside." 
 
 Minna's eyes looked wise. She thought the matter 
 over once again : 
 
 " A sign's a needful thing for a milliner, or a draper's 
 shop. People may come in from another town, or from 
 the country, and drop in to buy a necktie, or a hat, 
 when they see the sign up outside. But for a glazier — 
 no. If a window gets broken, they send for the nearest 
 glazier — and they know where he hves. Well — perhaps," 
 said Minna conscientiously, turning once round on her 
 heel — " perhaps a trifle may be lost that way. But 
 nothing to speak of. And the sign itself costs money. 
 Moreover, it spoils the look of the place, and the property 
 goes down in value. No, / won't have a sign put up." 
 
 Emanuel nodded approvingly. After a suitable stay 
 he took his leave, and asked if he might go down the 
 back way ; he wanted to look in and see Si vert. Half- 
 way down the stairs he heard a saw commence to work. 
 He dived down the cellar steps, and noted with mischievous 
 amusement how Sivert dragged away at the saw, working 
 so zealously that he did not hear anyone coming. The 
 sawdust hung like powder in his thin hair. Not until 
 Emanuel had been standing behind him a full minute did 
 he turn, with a frightened glance from the corner of 
 his eyes.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 243 
 
 " Oh, it's you, is it ? " he said, with rehef, and laid 
 down the saw. 
 
 " Hope I'm not disturbing you, what ? " 
 
 Sivert caught hold of his brother and shook him, 
 saying, with a childish expression : 
 
 " Oh, don't ! You know what women are, with their 
 fancies. I can't help it, can I ? And then you know 
 really, it's quite a good idea. I'm sure I'd never have 
 hit on it myself." 
 
 " Agreed ! " 
 
 " Good ! — then let's talk of something else. Thanks 
 for remembering our wedding-day — oh, didn't you ? 
 Well, never mind. I always say that now whenever I see 
 anybody. Thank 'em, you know, and pleased to see 
 them any time, if they're passing, and yes, thanks, quite 
 a comfortable place, and so on. See how I'm getting 
 on, in manners and that sort of thing ! Why, I feel 
 a different man altogether. Sometimes I can't make 
 out what it is that's happened." 
 
 " Well, you've got married, old man." 
 
 Sivert shook his head, with a curious smile. 
 
 " Have I, though ? Well, now, fancy — to think that 
 should ever happen to me ! And a milliner, too. I must 
 be ever so happy, I'm sure." 
 
 " I don't understand a word of it either," said 
 Emanuel seriously. 
 
 " Don't understand me being happy ? " 
 
 " I don't understand how you ever managed to get 
 her." 
 
 " Why, that's easy enough, surely. I just wrote 
 her a letter, and said it must be my turn now, seeing 
 there was nobody else she'd any chance of getting at 
 all." 
 
 " Sensible man ! "
 
 244 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " Yes, it was sensible, wasn't it ? That's why I 
 didn't send the letter after all, but wrote another, just 
 the opposite — saying, of course, she could get as many 
 as she pleased, and so on. Yes . , . you see, I've 
 noticed whenever I do anything sensible it always goes 
 wrong." 
 
 Sivert was bubbling with laughter. He clambered 
 up on the saw-bench and flapped his wings in idiotic 
 glee. 
 
 " I did it ! By the celebrated Lord on High, I did 
 it, 'and it came off. Next day there came an official 
 invitation — imagine what a fright I was in — to be 
 round at her back-stairs entrance at eleven that even- 
 ing ! " 
 
 He stepped down, and lowered his voice to a con- 
 fidential whisper. 
 
 " I must tell you, so you can come and persuade me 
 some day that it's not all a terrible dream. I stood 
 there holding the letter, and could hardly read it, and 
 lay awake after all that day, thinking what on earth 
 to do. Then in the afternoon I took off my things and 
 washed myself all over in warm water right to the waist. 
 So as to be ready, in case. Well, as it happened, there was 
 no need of it that evening, but it came in useful after, 
 on the wedding-day. Thanks for remembering our 
 wedding-day, by the way. Hope you'll look in and 
 see us any time . . ." 
 
 " Thanks, I've just had the pleasure." 
 
 " Oh, I didn't mean it that way. Only as a sort 
 of proverb, you know. But about that wash — do you 
 know what I found ? Here, right on my chest, Minna 
 Lund's name, with Faith, Hope, and Charity ! I took it 
 as a sign from above. It was really mostly that that 
 helped me to make up my mind."
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 245 
 
 " Oh— that old tattooing ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Sivert, nodding quietly. " It showed 
 up gradually, right inside on the skin." 
 
 " Like the paintings under the whitewash in the 
 church 1 " 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 " Well, go on, old man." 
 
 " Interesting to talk to, aren't I ? Ever in your 
 life hear anything so desperately exciting ? Ah, but 
 suppose I wasn't in the mood ? My voice is breaking, 
 I think. And then you come along interrupting me in 
 my work. Just when I was getting on so nicely. Ho — 
 here I Don't go running away deserting your brother 
 in distress. I'll tell you all about it. Well, you see, 
 after I'd had my bath, I stood all naked for an hour in 
 front of the glass. Then I got out my things, one by 
 one, and put fresh newspaper in the trousers. You 
 remember we always used to do that out west ; it's the 
 finest thing in the world to keep you warm ..." 
 
 " But it's summer ! " 
 
 " Never mind. Then I pumped up my bicycle and 
 cleaned up the lamp," 
 
 " Frightened, what ? " 
 
 " Me ? Lord, no ! you don't know me. But then I 
 pulled myself together and off at a furious pace. It was 
 simply dreadful, really. I can't understand how I ever 
 got through it to this day. She sat there all close up 
 to me on the sofa, life size and more, laying down the 
 conditions as stern as could be. vShe wanted to get a 
 sort of lease of me, as far as I could see. Well, I agreed 
 to it all, except the last. I said no to that." 
 
 " What was it you said ' no ' to ? " 
 
 " She asked if I'd expected anything different," said 
 Sivert, with a grin.
 
 246 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " No," he went on, " I didn't interfere with the 
 contract otherwise — best leave it to her, I thought. 
 And an3^how, the banquet — I mean the wedding busi- 
 ness — I couldn't have managed that half so well myself. 
 Why didn't you come, you devil ? " 
 
 " You might have asked Ditlev Plok." 
 
 " I couldn't. I knew he'd burnt his indiarubber 
 collar. But I tell you, you ought to have seen me. I 
 wish there'd been a gramophone in the church." 
 
 " You mean a cinematograph ? " 
 
 " No, I don't. I mean a gramophone. To take 
 down the sound of me walking up the aisle. That was 
 enough. Oh, you don't know. I didn't walk. I strode, 
 dragging one leg a little behind. I pretended to catch 
 my foot in the carpet and stumble. One place, I stopped 
 and stood as if in thought. And when I went up the 
 steps in front of the altar, my trousers creaked." 
 
 " What creaked ? " 
 
 " My trousers — the newspapers, you know. Heaps 
 of them. All new. And it seemed quite musical, really. 
 I declare I felt like taking off all my things there and 
 then before the congregation, to show off my fine physique, 
 all scrubbed and scoured. And then the dinner after — 
 I don't mind telling you I was a hero there. Though I 
 couldn't manage to eat up all there was. We had six 
 sorts of dishes at least, with the wine. And then, when 
 we got to chicken and toadstools — my favourite of all — 
 I couldn't. Oh, it was simply beastly. I wouldn't go 
 through that again more than once for anything." 
 
 " Did it make you ill ? " 
 
 " Oh, I soon got over it. It didn't spoil my concert 
 voice, anyhow." 
 
 " So you entertained the company with a song ? " 
 
 " Well, I had to, you know. It was my turn.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 247 
 
 Minna did a duet with the engineer man — she was going 
 to, that is. Only she couldn't find the music. Ah, 
 couldn't find it — no, I should think not ! " 
 
 " Whatapity !" 
 
 " Dreadful misfortune," said Sivert, with a grin. 
 " We spent more than half an hour looking for it all 
 over the house, Minna and Sveidal and me — but we 
 didn't look in the right place, haha ! Never mind — 
 as I said before, my trousers creaked at every step ! " 
 
 Sivert was seized with a fit of exultation at the recol- 
 lection ; he kicked off both his wooden shoes high in the 
 air, and danced round the cellar in his socks. 
 
 " And where was the music, after all ? " 
 
 " Where ? Don't you see ? Why, here — here in the 
 back of my breeches. I pinched it the same morning. 
 And there it was all the time in the seat of my bridal 
 uniform, creaking as musically as could be. There it 
 was — and here it is now — nearest my skin, and lovely 
 and warm. And here it shall stay till my dying day. 
 Who married Minna, I should like to know, Sveidal or 
 me ? Ho ! No more duets in this house without I'm 
 taking part ! " 
 
 Emanuel thought to himself once more : a lusty 
 young mare and a gleeful billy-goat harnessed together. 
 
 He shook his head, and said aloud : 
 
 " But surely you had to get out of your clothes some 
 time on your wedding-day ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " What ? How do you mean ? " 
 
 Sivert changed colour. " Don't let's think about 
 that," he said. " It was awful. I sat there feeling 
 horribly uncomfortable, as if father and God and you 
 were hiding in corners and laughing at me. And she stood 
 up in bed, a dreadful sight, with her hair all loose, and
 
 248 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 nothing on but a bathing-dress. ' Take off all your 
 things ! ' she said. And I did. But then she said I 
 was to take off more still, take off my under pants. So 
 I ran away. Ran in next door to ' my husband's room.' 
 And slept there in my bridal armour with the tablecloth 
 over me. And that's as far as I've ever got."
 
 XVIII 
 
 HEDVIG writes to Fru van Haag : 
 " Vranstedgaard, 24th March. 
 
 " My dear kind Mistress, — Yes, I can't help 
 thinking of you still as mistress. A hundred times I 
 find myself thinking : What would ' Fruen ' say to this 
 or that before I do it. Up to now, I have managed more 
 or less on your advice ; to do what I Uked. I can always 
 hear your voice, the very way you said it ; and it makes 
 a difference too. Not ' Do what you hke ' but ' Do what 
 you like ! ' 
 
 " Well, and up to now, I have known what I Uked, 
 and done it, and been glad of it, and grateful to you. 
 But now I've come to something that may be a great 
 thing in my Hfe, and I can't say whether I Hke it or hke 
 better to run away and avoid it. There's a man who 
 wants me to marry him. 
 
 " But I may as well say at once, this is the fourth or 
 fifth time some one's wanted me to, only up till now I've 
 always been sure myself I didn't want to. 
 
 " You can help me, I know. And I know you 
 will. 
 
 " He's in a dairy, a good honest fellow in every way, 
 and clean and nice as fresh-made butter. 
 
 " And that's quite a lot to say for a man, isn't it ? 
 I know enough of the world to know that. I've been in 
 
 lots of places now, and seen a good deal of the world. 
 
 249
 
 250 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 And then all that I learned when I was with you ! Oh, 
 you touched my eyes and made me see. 
 
 " And I've read lots of books, Augustinus Tril- 
 lingsbaek — yes, that's his name, worse luck — has read a 
 good deal too, when he was at the Extension School. 
 But now that he's a free man, no power on earth can make 
 him take up a book. 
 
 " I won't tire you with telling how we came to meet. 
 It was last summer in Copenhagen. He had come in 
 to fetch his mother from the hospital. (It's her I'm 
 with now.) But I'll mention one httle thing to show 
 what he's like. The first few days we knew each other 
 he was shy and serious — I was a fine lady, and he hardly 
 dared look at me. But then I went with him to see his 
 mother, and as soon as he was with her, he began sud- 
 denly laughing hke a madman, and after a while of that, 
 he fell to crying so the tears rolled down his jacket. And 
 he touched my sleeve and my hair. 
 
 " It was ridiculous, of course, but I gave him a 
 kiss — the first one. I really felt fond of him at that 
 moment. 
 
 " For though I fight against it as hard as I can, I've 
 such a longing to he loved hy some one. 
 
 " What with Augustinus' crying and laughing, I gave 
 up my place with two quite first-rate people, an artist 
 and his wife named Uhde, where I was just the same 
 as a daughter to them, and moved over here to Vransted- 
 gaard, with every prospect of finding myself a dairy- 
 manager's wife, if I don't stand out against it tooth and 
 nail. 
 
 " And why should I ? 
 
 " Well, now, I want to ask : oughtn't a girl to be 
 looking forward to her wedding-day ? Because I'm 
 not.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 251 
 
 " I can laugh, yes, but I've never been really happy 
 since I was a child. 
 
 " Once I came very near to being happy. And that 
 was when I was with you, Fru van Haag. It was the 
 evening when we ran out like two schoolgirls and listened 
 outside the church to Johan Fors playing. I laughed 
 and cried with love all night after — very much like my 
 good Augustinus Trillingsbaek. 
 
 " I've had two letters, by the way, from Johan Fors. 
 But I never think of him, and certainly I'm not in love 
 with him. If so, I shouldn't be writing this to you. 
 And I've never written him a word in answer. He's in 
 Paris now. No, if I saw him crossing the street I'd not 
 so much as turn round to look at him. I rather think 
 I should hang on tighter to my dairyman's arm. For 
 it's almost happiness to me to feel some one really cares 
 for me. 
 
 " Poor dear Augustinus — he's just come in now, and 
 is sitting just behind me. Ever so quiet. I know 
 he's looking at me all the time, but he never ventures 
 to disturb me the least little bit. He thinks me a fine 
 lady. He loves everything that's ' fine ' — that's why 
 he wants to be dairy-manager instead of taking over 
 the farm. As soon as I came here, he gave me a bicycle, 
 and now this Christmas he came and said : ' Here — 
 I've got you a bicycle catalogue of pianos — so you can 
 pick out the best for yourself ! ' 
 
 " Don't think, though, I'm trying to make him out 
 as just simple and foolish. No, sometimes he and his 
 mother can be finer than anyone in their manners. 
 They've never asked me once about my people, still 
 less a word about money matters. 
 
 " Do write now and tell me what's best to do about 
 it. Remember I've nobody to ask but you. When I
 
 252 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 try to think calmly and sensibly about it, it seems a 
 good chance, and not to be thrown away. But some- 
 thing inside me makes me hesitate. I lie awake at 
 nights, and it always ends in thinking back to the 
 lovely time with you at Knarreby Toldbod. And then 
 I cry, and hope you can help me — and will. I shall 
 always remember you, and I can't think you've quite 
 forgotten your Hedvig." 
 
 Fru van Haag thought over the matter for some 
 days, and then wrote in reply. 
 
 " Dear little Hedvig," she began — and then, 
 seeing the three simple words on the paper, in her 
 curious tall hand, she bowed down over the paper and 
 spoiled it altogether by crying over it. Then she felt 
 ashamed of herself, and took a fresh sheet. It was 
 most important that there should be no sign of tears 
 about this letter. It was her business here to be strong — 
 to comfort and advise. 
 
 " Dear little Hedvig, — I was so glad to get your 
 letter, though it wasn't a very bright one, to be sure. 
 But I've been going about with my head on one side, 
 listening over towards where you were and wondering 
 if there wouldn't come a word from you soon. And 
 here it is at last, and here am I, my little friend ; my 
 daughter by God's grace for a little time — but a time I 
 shall never forget. 
 
 " You are quite right. You are a creature of modern 
 times, and you go to a speciahst. If you've a stomach- 
 ache, you go to a specialist in stomach-aches, and when 
 it's a case of love trouble, you come to me. I've a 
 quarter of a century's experience in that particular line. 
 
 " But I must see you before I can help you. You
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 253 
 
 draw a very good picture with your pen, but neverthe- 
 less I must have you over here yourself, and feel your 
 pulse. And that at once. Mind, it's serious. I can 
 tell that much from your writing alone. 
 
 " And you will just be in time to say good-bye to 
 me, if you make haste. I'm a shaky old woman now, 
 Hedvig. 
 
 " If only we could cure each other, you and I ! 
 Come, child ; I almost think I could be young again if 
 I held your warm, strong hand in mine. And as for 
 yourself, I think I see a way. 
 
 " Come — we have so much to talk about. — Your 
 mistress and friend, 
 
 " Clara van Haag, nee Steen." 
 
 A week after, Hedvig arrived home unannounced. 
 Her mother was overwhelmed at seeing her so trans- 
 formed into a lady, both in dress and speech, and dared 
 not take her in her arms, but stood where she was and 
 wept. Her father, on the other hand, welcomed her 
 with enthusiasm. He laid aside all work, just to sit 
 and look at her and talk. " Here's a fine daughter 
 I've got in my old age," he said again and again, in 
 frank admiration. Hedvig had felt a touch of her 
 childish defiance from the old days when she first saw 
 him now, but it soon disappeared. They were neutrals 
 now. And while she was taking in his admiration, 
 there was hardly time for anything else. 
 
 " Well, you have changed," he said. 
 
 " So have you." 
 
 " For the better, too ? " 
 
 " Do you think you coulci change for the worse ? " she 
 said thoughtfully. But then they both laughed, and 
 were excellent friends.
 
 254 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN IIAAG 
 
 Hedvig let him tell her all that she knew only from 
 her mother's brief letters. Mostly of Fruen, who had 
 sent good fortune showering down over the house ; of 
 Sivert's marriage, and the brickworks business. He 
 talked continuously of this last, and something seemed 
 to take place within him as he listened to his own words. 
 All through the winter he had felt himself buried alive 
 under mountains of bricks ; he had wrung his hands 
 and wished himself dead. Strange, now, to hear himself 
 describing the brickworks as a magnificent concern, 
 which had brought him daily delight up to now, and 
 would soon be bringing him wealth into the bargain. 
 He sat there, lying himself into happiness, and was 
 happy, really, as he did so. 
 
 " And you shall have your share, my girl, never 
 fear, as soon as the bricks are turned out finished, and 
 the money begins to come in. Yes, indeed, you shall 
 have something out of it as well. Trousseau and things. 
 Are you married ? " 
 
 " No," said Hedvig, and her face darkened slightly. 
 Nevertheless, it pleased her to find that he did not 
 claim intimacy, but asked as he might of a mere ac- 
 quaintance : " Are you married ? " 
 
 " Not ? Well, never mind. I'll give you a horse 
 to ride, or anything else you like, if it turns out 
 weU." 
 
 He was silent a moment, turning over the last words : 
 if it turns out well. Then he laughed, with his head on 
 one side, pinched her arm, and said : 
 
 " You see, it's a bit of a venture, really. Buying up 
 a whole concern like this for next to nothing, and 
 running the thing for nothing at all. A venture — yes, 
 a game of chance for hfe and death. But I shall win, 
 my girl. I'll win in the end ! "
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 255 
 
 Hedvig had dinner at home, and then said she was 
 going round to call on Fru van Haag. 
 
 " I'll go too," said her father. 
 
 " Oh ? " said Hedvig, raising her eyebrows. 
 
 " That is — I mean, if you'll allow me ? " 
 
 Hedvig graciously nodded permission. 
 
 Father and daugher walked together through the 
 town, and, as it chanced, caught sight of Hr. van Haag 
 going into Vang's Hotel. Neither made any comment, 
 but both felt a sense of relief. A moment later they 
 were at the Toldbod. They went straight upstairs and 
 entered. Fru van Haag was in her own room, seated 
 at the writing-table with a cushion at her back. But 
 at sight of Hedvig she sprang up, and seemed to throw 
 off all ill-health at once. Her white cheeks flushed with 
 youthful colour, and she drew the girl to her warmly. 
 The two looked long into each other's eyes, forgetting 
 all about Egholm for the moment. Then all three sat 
 down close together and talked of many things. 
 
 " And you're pleased with her too. Monsieur Egholm, 
 I can see. Or has something gone right with the 
 brickworks ? " 
 
 " That too," said Egholm mysteriously. 
 
 " But I thought you said the clay was poor." 
 
 " Poor ? Did I say it was poor ? It's first rate ! 
 I'll show you a sample, to judge for yourself — look at 
 this ! " 
 
 He thrust one hand into a pocket, and drew out a 
 mass of yellow gritty stuff. 
 
 " Funny to think you can make bricks out of that," 
 said Fruen. 
 
 Egholm sat silent, letting the others talk ; then he 
 cut into the conversation himself all at once. Evidently 
 he had been thinking of something all the time.
 
 256 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " Yes," he said. " My doubts as to the quality of 
 the clay have proved unfounded. The mass holds well 
 together, and we can already consider it certain the bricks 
 will turn out all right. I feel I ought to tell you this at 
 once, because you'll be gone by the time they're finished." 
 
 " No, I think not. I think I must wait till after." 
 
 " Well, well — but anyhow, as I say, I'm practically 
 certain it will turn out all right now." 
 
 " You think so ? " 
 
 " I can almost say, I know it will," said Egholm 
 firmly. 
 
 Shortly after he took his leave. Fruen went with 
 him out into the passage, despite his protests, but when 
 she came back, she was still full of what he had said. 
 
 " I can't understand," she said, " how he can be 
 right. I only hope it may be so. Oh, Hedvig, if only 
 we could make that man happy, after life's been so 
 hard to him all along ! " 
 
 " He's been hard on others in return," said Hedvig 
 coldly and clearly. 
 
 " Of course he has ! He couldn't hit back where his 
 troubles come from. And so he's taken it out of Little 
 Mother and you and the others. And that's why he's 
 an unhappy man." 
 
 " I look on father more as a madman than an un- 
 happy man." 
 
 " Nonsense, Hedvig. He's just as much one as the 
 other ! " 
 
 Fru Clara crouched down, watching Hedvig with 
 wide eyes. Her voice trembled a little. Hedvig felt 
 strangely moved at the ring of emotion in her words as 
 she went on : 
 
 " Ah, think of it — think what a terrible thing to be 
 born with a brain diseased. We others, dear, we go out
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 257 
 
 into the world with a bank-book to draw on. Kasper 
 Egholm, poor fellow, has no bank-book, but a madness 
 that breaks out the day he falls over a stone and strikes 
 his head on the ground." 
 
 Hedvig drew a deep breath and said : 
 
 " I don't believe in that sort of stone. Either a 
 man's mad, or he's sane. That's how I look at it." 
 
 " Don't you believe in circumstances ? " 
 
 " What circumstances do you mean ? What's the 
 stone that upset things for him ? " 
 
 " Clara Steen's that stone. Clara Steen it was, in 
 Helsingor. My dear, I thought you understood as much. 
 He was in love with me, you know, and I encouraged 
 him a Uttle. Isn't that a sharp stone enough, Hedvig, 
 a devilish stone to get in the way ? No, but of course 
 you didn't understand. I didn't reaUse it myself till 
 a few years back. At first — when I came to Knarreby, 
 I used to go and see your people because they were more 
 amusing than the others — and altogether more human. 
 But now, it's not amusement only, but affection — and 
 sympathy — and a mournful, conscience-stricken regret. 
 Hedvig, if I can't make your father and those near to 
 him happy some way, I shall go out of the world hke a 
 slave. Hedvig, you must help me. That's why I sent 
 for you, really. You must help me, if you really care 
 for me at all." 
 
 " How can I help caring for you — after all you've 
 been to me — all you've done for me ? " 
 
 " Yes, of course. It's your plain duty to be deeply 
 grateful to me. Didn't I give you the yellow trunk with 
 the handles — an expensive thing, with labels from Rome 
 and Paris, that you were so proud of. Well, don't 
 forget it, that's all. You've got to pay me back for 
 that and all my other benefactions. Didn't you find a 
 17
 
 258 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 ten-Kroner note on your hatpin when the Professor 
 went away ? Yes, but / put it there, you know. He 
 forgot, just as he forgot about Hr. van Haag's collars. 
 Yes, I've been good to you, and now in return you've 
 got to give up this Augustinus Trillingsbaek for my sake. 
 Don't laugh — can't you hear me praying to you on my 
 knees for that one little thing ? Give him to me." 
 
 " What do you want with him ? " said Hedvig. The 
 tears were gathering in her eyes, despite her smile. She 
 strove to keep them back with her long fair eyelashes, 
 but they grew heavier, and broke through like great 
 dewdrops, and fell on her hands. 
 
 " I don't want him at all. Let him stick to his dairy, 
 that's all. Let him go on with his butter and cheese, 
 but . . . That is, of course, unless you've promised 
 him . . ." 
 
 " No," said Hedvig. " I've kissed him once or twice. 
 But I've told him as plainly as I could in so many words 
 that he mustn't make any mistake and go thinking I was 
 fond of him. No — and I can tell you, Fru van Haag, 
 that this time, when I came away, he saw the whole 
 thing clearer than I did myself. ' I shan't see you 
 again, I know ' — those were his last words." 
 
 " Oh dear ! " said Fru van Haag, all sympathy now. 
 " And what did you say ? " 
 
 " I said, no one could say. But it was a dreadfully 
 sad parting." 
 
 " Be thankful you've got it over now, child. In a 
 little while, perhaps, it might have been too late. It 
 might have killed you." 
 
 " We were to have been married in May." 
 
 " Terrible ! " 
 
 " He's a good man, and nice in Jots of ways. But 
 of course ..."
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 259 
 
 " He ! Yes, he's good enough. But you — you're 
 an egoist, a criminal ! You know you don't love him ! 
 Good heavens, is the world standing still, then ? Are 
 we to have that same crime of ignorance again, genera- 
 tion after generation ? Look at me — I'm one that was 
 a coward in love. Do you think it was for love I married 
 Hr. van Haag ? I took him because he was decently 
 dressed, and kept his nails clean ; because, as you put it 
 yourself, it seemed quite a good match. And so we 
 struggled on, the way you know. He hated me, and I 
 hated him. Sometimes I went off travelling about and 
 taking him round to places, to make him a little smarter 
 in manners and appearance. But the last few years 
 I've stayed at home, because all my money was gone, 
 and because I had you and the others to console me. 
 I stood it pretty well, really, his talking at me at night 
 and all the other horrible things about him. I was a 
 martyr, of course, and when you once feel that, you can 
 take almost anything smiling. But now I'm going 
 away. Why's that, do you think ? " 
 
 Fru van Haag looked at Hedvig with a faint smile, 
 and stroked her hands. 
 
 " Yes, my martyrdom's over now. Slap-bang — all 
 over now. And a black mark on my forehead instead 
 of a martyr's crown. Hr. van Haag's fallen in love ! 
 With Fru Vang — the woman whose husband drowned 
 himself — the woman with the fringe and the smile — the 
 pious one. It must have been going on for a long time, 
 I fancy, before I noticed it. I knew he was always 
 going down to the hotel, where she looked after the 
 kitchen and things, but — well, can you imagine Hr. 
 van Haag and being in love in the same breath ? No. 
 Then one day I saw him sitting at table, at lunch, with 
 some violets in his hand. He was fiddling about with
 
 260 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 them such a funny way. Then in the afternoon the 
 pair of them came up together — and he tells me Fru 
 Vang is going to take over the housekeeping here — from 
 the first of May. As housekeeper-maid — or whatever 
 you like to call it. And the violets were stuck in her 
 breast with a thick pin." 
 
 " Oh, that horrible slimy creature ! I wonder you 
 didn't spit in their faces ! " 
 
 " I'll tell you what I did, Hedvig. I laughed at 
 them — laughed desperately — couldn't help it." 
 
 " Well, that was a good thing, anyway." 
 
 " No, it wasn't. But I simply couldn't help it. I 
 was so ashamed of myself after. That awkward woodeny 
 smile of his, it was like an accusation against me ; for 
 having kept him shut out from love for twenty-five 
 years." 
 
 Hedvig thought for a moment. Then she said : 
 
 " If anyone's to blame — why, surely it must be 
 between you. Hr. van. Haag's as bad himself. He 
 wanted you, you said so yourself." 
 
 " Ah, my dear, it's the one that knows that's always 
 to blame. I knew, my dear, I understood, but my con- 
 science never spoke till now — and now it's rather late, 
 isn't it ? " 
 
 " I don't see — I'm not sure you've anything to 
 blame yourself for now." 
 
 " Yes, you do know, my dear. Why did you write 
 to me at all ? " 
 
 Hedvig shook her head, but the denial was in itself 
 an admission. 
 
 Fruen went on : 
 
 " And so I'm going away now. We can't have a 
 woman in the house that's my servant and my husband's 
 mistress, can we ? There's some sense in that, you
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 261 
 
 must admit. I forgot to tell you I've been left some 
 money just lately — a blessing, indeed. Quite a lot — the 
 price of nearly twenty grand pianos. It's a nuisance I 
 can't use it for something better, but I must live. I'm 
 going to Frankfurt first, to my brother. He's a famous 
 man, you know, and dreadfully dull." 
 
 Fru Clara took an orange from a big bowl and began 
 to peel it. 
 
 " There," she said, offering Hedvig half. " A fore- 
 taste of the south. Take it, Hedvig. And thank you 
 ever so much for Augustinus. All may come right yet, 
 as long as I can feel I've really saved you from some- 
 thing. Hedvig — a lovely young thing like you — the 
 world would be darker if you went out in that way. Yes, 
 I think I can go away now. You'll have to help your 
 father over things if these bricks don't turn out as he 
 hopes. Every day I stay here's an added humiliation 
 for me, but I should have to stay if you weren't here." 
 
 " Yes," said Hedvig firmly. "I'll manage to make 
 him happy again. I've no hatred left towards him 
 now." 
 
 " Couldn't you go a step farther than that," said 
 Fruen earnestly. 
 
 " I don't think I'm happy enough myself to be 
 really kind to others," said Hedvig, half to herself. 
 
 A guttering reflection lit in Fru Clara's eyes ; she 
 nodded, and said : 
 
 " You've every right to say so, I suppose. Now, 
 you mustn't mind if I talk of something else. Will 
 you go with me to Copenhagen, now, when I go ? Only 
 two or three days. You will come back here after, of 
 course." 
 
 Hedvig promised gladly. 
 
 Once more Fru Clara changed the subject abruptly.
 
 262 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " Tell me — what papers did you take in over there ? " 
 
 " Varde Dagblad." 
 
 " Is that all ? " 
 
 " No other newspapers. But we used to get Hojskole- 
 hladet and Ugens Nyheder. And I had books sent from 
 Copenhagen, and . . ." 
 
 " Good — very good ! " said Fruen, 
 
 When Hedvig took her leave, Fruen went with her 
 a little way. They walked arm in arm along the railway 
 hues by the harbour. There was a soft, dehcious melan- 
 choly in the air ; Hedvig breathed tremulously. Even 
 an ordinary railway truck, standing there all asleep 
 under its tarpaulin, seemed eloquent in its dry smell 
 of dust and oil. As a schoolgirl, Hedvig had played 
 " bathing " in one of those springy tarpaulins, flapping 
 and swimming about till the blood burned and stung in 
 her cheeks. And once — later on — she had gone out on 
 just such an evening as this and called up a little lad 
 from his play among the railway trucks, to carry a 
 letter. . . . 
 
 Even the blue Belt seemed to breathe a melancholy 
 perfume — reminding one of salt tears. . . . 
 
 Down beyond there was the same little plank stage 
 where Johan had taken his boat and rowed away so 
 furiously that night. 
 
 Hedvig's lips trembled. A gentle womanly hand 
 rested lightly on her arm — a few days more, and that 
 hand would be outstretched in farewell. 
 
 Alone in the world. No father nor mother. True, 
 they lived, but not in her world. No Augustinus even. 
 Augustinus Trillingsbaek — his very name, and all that 
 belonged to him, had become distasteful to her now. 
 It all seemed sour and forbidding, hke stale milk. 
 
 No, Hedvig was alone in the world now — alone, with
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 263 
 
 none but Hedvig. She cowered in dread and wretched- 
 ness close to Fru van Haag walking so silently by her 
 side. 
 
 The evening light out over the water and over the 
 dark shores of Jutland was the colour of dark hellebore.
 
 XIX 
 
 FRU VAN HAAG went down herself to Soren 
 Vognmand and ordered a carriage to meet the 
 eleven o'clock train. She and Soren had grown 
 great friends ; ay, this was something different indeed 
 from the first day he had driven her from the station ; 
 eh, my dear, but she paid him twice over every time ; 
 first the price of the job, and then a smile and a word or 
 so beyond, each worth i| Kroner at the least. 
 
 To-day Soren is hard put to it to make out what 
 Fruen means. She is so queer to-day. Ordinarily, 
 she would just say : a carriage at such and such a time, 
 please. Now, she is asking if Soren hasn't a iiner carriage, 
 something special. 
 
 " Finer than the one we always take ? And isn't 
 that easy enough ? Why, 'tis soft as a cradle, surely." 
 
 " Yes, I know. But, Soren, what do we want a 
 carriage to seat four for when there's only two of us ? 
 Haven't you one that'll just take us two and the coach- 
 man on the box ? " 
 
 " No, indeed, I wouldn't have Fruen drive in any but 
 the finest, with coronet on the door and flourishes and 
 ' S. S. — Soren Sorensen ' under. That's me. But to seat 
 two — well, there's the Uttle dogcart." 
 
 " Let me see it." 
 
 " It's this way. There, there she is." 
 
 " No, I don't hke that." 
 
 " Well, now, what did I say ? Though, to be sure, 
 
 364
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 265 
 
 it's a good little cart enough. And if there's too many 
 seats in the other, why, we can take one out." 
 
 " Could you, now ? " said Fruen, brightening up. 
 
 " Why, no, to tell the truth, it can't be done." Soren 
 had not expected to be taken at his word. 
 
 " Oh, what a pity ! " 
 
 " But if as Fruen was feeling anxious Uke, lest a 
 certain monkey of a creature should want to sit down 
 opposite and stare at her all the way — why, we might 
 put a big trunk on the opposite seat, so it can't be 
 moved." 
 
 " Oh, S0ren, you're a genius. The eleven o'clock 
 train, then, Seren. But don't come too early. And as 
 soon as you get to the house, you'll find a big trunk on 
 the steps, and put it up on the seat at once." 
 
 " Right ! And now, which would you Uke, the 
 blacks or the roans ? " 
 
 " Take the roans, and remember, not too early." 
 
 " I'll remember every bit." 
 
 Next day Hedvig Egholm was at the Toldbod early. 
 They packed up the last of the things, and went through 
 the rooms once more. Anything forgotten now would 
 be lost for ever. 
 
 " Oh — my hyacinths ! Give me a hand, Hedvig. 
 We mustn't leave that behind. Here's the key of the 
 big trunk. 
 
 " It won't go in — the frame's too big. No, it's no 
 good. . . ." 
 
 " Then we'll take it with us as it is. I did it myself, 
 Hedvig, and it dates from before the Fall, so we mustn't 
 have it defiled now. Hedvig, you have it, will you ? 
 Hang it up in your room. We can stop at the house 
 going by and leave it there." 
 
 Hedvig thanks her quietly. She has a hundred
 
 266 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 things already that Fru van Haag has given her in 
 remembrance, but nothing that pleases her so much as 
 this. These painted flowers, the work of a girl, have 
 something of Fru van Haag's soul in them. 
 
 Little creaking steps can be heard from the bedroom ; 
 Hr. van Haag is busy with an extra special toilet in 
 honour of Fruen's departure. He opens the door and 
 inquires down the passage : 
 
 " Why isn't the carriage there ? " 
 
 Dagmar will ask her mistress. 
 
 Meantime, one of the customs men drags the two 
 trunks down to the stone steps. It is late. A boy 
 comes up with a big bouquet of white roses, which Dagmar 
 carries up to Hr. van Haag. 
 
 " Why isn't the carriage there ? " he asks. 
 
 " Fruen said she didn't know." 
 
 " Put the flowers on the bed. And then go down and 
 see if you can see it coming." 
 
 Dagmar goes quietly out into her kitchen and sits 
 down on a wooden chair by the stove. She's not a fool ; 
 she knows that when you can see the carriage, it's there 
 already, seeing it only comes from Soren Vognmand's 
 round the corner. Moreover, Dagmar is leaving on the 
 first, and doesn't care. Stay on under Fru Vang — not 
 if she knows it ! 
 
 Then at last Soren Vognmand rattles up, turns in 
 front of the house, and drives up to the door. He 
 jumps down from his seat, and with a mighty heave 
 swings the trunks up on to the front seat of the open 
 carriage. Then up to the box again to deliver his 
 famous pyrotechnic cracks of the wliip over the horses' 
 heads. 
 
 Fru van Haag and Hedvig have been standing 
 ready with their things on, looking at the clock in a 
 
 i
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 267 
 
 fever of anxiety lest Soren should obey his instructions 
 too well and come too late for the train. 
 
 Then Fru Clara walks down the steps of Knarreby 
 Toldbod for the last time — walks with her peerlessly free 
 and graceful carriage, incomprehensibly young. A 
 strange being, Fru Clara — with a wonderful gift of eternal 
 youth, and hopelessly unable to find her way to decrepit 
 old age. A permanant defiance of her birth certificate 
 was Fru Clara. Hedvig and she looked hke two friends 
 of the same age. 
 
 Fru Clara takes her seat ; Hedvig gets in after, hold- 
 ing the picture in her hands and looking about for a 
 safe place to put it. 
 
 " Drive on, Soren." 
 
 At the same moment Old Poulsen comes edging 
 out from the office, and shambles down to the carriage. 
 His lower jaw moves up and down once or twice without 
 a sound. By some accident his uniform cap has slipped 
 awry, and sits cocked irreverently on one side of his 
 dingy grey hair. Alas ! Poulsen's head had once been 
 wreathed with dark, curly locks. 
 
 " Soren — stop ! " 
 
 Poulsen holds a paper in his hand. Baring his head, 
 he hands the document up to Fru Clara — a beggar, 
 proffering a petition to the queen ! 
 
 " Oh, did you come to say good-bye, Poulsen ? 
 Thanks, thanks a thousand times. We've been good- 
 friends ever since I first came. I shall always think 
 kindly of you, be sure of that. A letter ? Thanks." 
 
 " The speech," says Poulsen. He cocks his hat 
 awry again, and his gums mumble something inaudible. 
 
 " The speech, yes, of course," says Fru Clara kindly, 
 as if humouring a child. 
 
 " You'll never come — again ! " The foolish old
 
 268 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 face is wrung with pain ; the words are a cry of 
 anguish. 
 
 Fru van Haag takes his hand and looks generously 
 into his eyes. 
 
 " ril read it, yes. And keep it. But — Poulsen " — 
 Fruen turns to Hedvig, and the pair exchange a single 
 eloquent glance — " will you take this picture as a little 
 gift from me ? I painted it myself many years ago. 
 You've always been so good and kind, and I want to 
 thank you." 
 
 Hedvig and Fru Clara together hand the hyacinths 
 to Poulsen, who takes the picture, overwhelmed as if 
 by a weighty burden. 
 
 Fru Clara has yet a few words to say, but her gentle 
 speech is drowned by an angry voice addressing Soren 
 in terms of abuse. Van Haag himself has just come 
 down. His dress is the acme of neatness, but his face 
 is flushed with anger. He has had to run down the 
 stairs. A man in his position, in his newly tailored 
 creases, to run . . . ! 
 
 Hr. van Haag waves his big bouquet threateningly 
 at Soren, and says : 
 
 " And where do you suppose I am to sit ? " 
 
 Soren has given but little thought to the question ; 
 he points, however, without hesitation, at the scanty 
 vacant space beside his own broad self, and says : 
 
 " Here." 
 
 " On the box ! Are you mad ? Take those trunks 
 out of the way at once ! " 
 
 " I can't do without the trunks, Julius," 
 
 " Then I shall stay at home." 
 
 " Very well." 
 
 " But it's ridiculous. The very idea ! Do you want 
 to make a fool of me before the whole town ? Oh,
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 269 
 
 well, then — there, take these roses, I got them for you. 
 Carry them yourself — don't give them to Hedvig. For 
 the look of the thing, at least." 
 
 " Farvel, Julius." 
 
 Julius van Haag draws his heels together ; his silk 
 hat flashes three times in the air behind the carriage as 
 it rolls away. An immaculate figure from top to toe. 
 But behind him, up against the wall, stands a crushed 
 and flattened scarecrow, holding in its crooked fingers a 
 little painting in a gold frame. One sleeve has worked 
 up high above the wrist, revealing an instrument of 
 torture in the shape of a tight starched cuff. Old 
 Poulsen, staring rigidly down the empty street. . . . 
 
 Soren drove at a furious pace through the town ; 
 he could trust his cattle, and knew what they could do. 
 
 Fru Clara leaned back, sniffing the acrid smell of 
 sweating horse-flesh. The sun was full in her face ; 
 she looked neither to one side nor the other, but a smile 
 gathered on her lips. 
 
 " Take the wire off, dear, will you ? " she said, hand- 
 ing the roses to Hedvig. " Carefully, there's a dear." 
 
 The carriage turned off the cobbled way now into 
 Stationsvej , where the wheels crunched firmly as over a 
 sanded floor. Egholm stood by the hedge, and bowed 
 and scraped as they passed ; his wife half rose, and 
 waved a white handkerchief. A moment later they were 
 at the station. The train was late ; there was plenty of 
 time. 
 
 " Thank you, dear things," said Fruen, patting each 
 of the horses on the neck. She pulled at their fore- 
 locks, and then, after a hasty glance to either hand, 
 divided the roses between them. But the roans had no 
 taste for such refinements ; they flung the roses aside 
 into the dust.
 
 270 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " Hi, yovi brutes ! " cried Soren. " Nice manners, 
 indeed ! " 
 
 But Fruen pressed Soren's hand in farewell, and 
 pressed it once again, this time with much money. 
 
 " All the same, there's not many of your sort," said 
 S0ren, nodding thoughtfully as he spoke. 
 
 The train sang its way in over the sunny green- 
 sprouting fields. Fruen and Hedvig sat facing each other. 
 They spoke but little — there were others in the com- 
 partment — but glanced at each other now and again with 
 a little nod. And Hedvig marked how Fruen's eyes 
 grew brighter with increasing content for every station 
 added to the distance between them now and 
 Knarreby. She began playing tricks. She bought up 
 the whole stock of the sweetmeat man on Odense station, 
 and paid him to go round distributing peppermints and 
 chocolates and acid drops to all who passed. People 
 thought the man was mad, and this amused Fru Clara 
 intensely. A minute before the train moved off again, 
 the man came running up with eyes aglow — he had still 
 a whole box of sweets left — here ; four Kroner. Fruen 
 bought this box too, and gave it back to him at once — 
 for his own consumption exclusively, she explained, with 
 great seriousness. 
 
 At Nyborg they found the morning papers from 
 Copenhagen. Fru Clara bought one of each, and after 
 changing over to the ferry, where she and Hedvig had 
 coffee at a little table on the upper deck, Fruen began to 
 read. The wind tore at the paper ; she had to fold it 
 up into a tiny square. It was strange to see her reading 
 so eagerly — newspapers did not interest her as a rule. 
 She put down the first one on the seat when she had read 
 it, sat on it herself, and took another. 
 
 " May I look ? " said Hedvig.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 271 
 
 " Do you want one ? " said Fruen. " All right — but 
 wait a minute." 
 
 She turned the pages, tore one out, and passed Hedvig 
 the rest. 
 
 " Censorship ? " said Hedvig, with a smile. 
 
 " Yes — for the present. You're only used to the 
 provincial papers, you know." 
 
 " Fm not in the provinces now. And I have seen 
 Copenhagen papers before, you know." 
 
 " Read what I give you, now, and don't ask ques- 
 tions." 
 
 Hedvig was slightly annoyed at this. What was the 
 meaning of this sudden protectioning attitude ? Why 
 should Fruen tear out a page — and hide it in her bag ? 
 Really, Hedvig felt it was beyond a joke. But as the 
 paper fluttered in her mistress's hand, she caught a 
 ghmpse of a word — a name — Johan Fors. 
 
 Her face turned pale and seemed to shrink ; she 
 breathed with difficulty as she asked : 
 
 " What does it say about Johan Fors ? " 
 
 " Nothing — oh, well, I suppose it's too late now. 
 Only that he's giving an exhibition of his things in 
 Copenhagen. I knew he was going to — but I wanted to 
 see what the papers said about them first." 
 
 " Isn't he in Paris, then ? " 
 
 " The pictures were sent from Paris — it says so 
 here." 
 
 " I should so hke to see what it says," said 
 Hedvig. 
 
 " Oh, well, if you want to," said Fru Clara, handing 
 over the paper. " I thought you regarded him as your 
 spiritual enemy — as one of the humbugs." 
 
 " I should like to read about it — and I should like 
 to see the pictures awfully."
 
 272 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " Well, we'll go and look at them one day when 
 we've time." 
 
 " I've always been to all the exhibitions, and then 
 I was with those artist people for quite a time," said 
 Hedvig excusingly. 
 
 " Well, well, if you think you'd like to." 
 
 " Yes," said Hedvig, gazing far out over the Great 
 Belt. " Yes, I shotdd hke to." 
 
 A west-bound ferry passed them, and they noticed 
 how the flock of gulls deserted it now that it was nearing 
 land, and came over to their own to make the trip once 
 more. The birds came gUding up alongside, and shrieked 
 out a bright httle greeting. One of them settled on the 
 mast — not from weariness, no, merely to scratch its head. 
 That done, it was on the wing again at once. How far 
 removed they seemed from everything unclean, these 
 children of the wind and the sea. Their breasts were 
 gleaming white, like newly washed and ironed things 
 ready for a ball. - Lovely, delicate young ladies, far above 
 anything so vulgar as work. All these humans on board 
 were merely their attendant slaves. " Food," cried the 
 winged young ladies, and food was given them at once. 
 They ate in the air, where all was clean and fresh, drop- 
 ping the residue with the utmost dehcacy, almost 
 coquettishly, into the water. 
 
 Hedvig turned from the gulls and asked suddenly : 
 
 " Why should I hate his things ? " 
 
 " No, why ? " 
 
 " Surely art can give us the nearest we can get to 
 real happiness ? " 
 
 " Have you ever tried to be an artist yourself in any 
 way ? " 
 
 Hedvig laughed. " No, I think I care too much for 
 art to spoil it with my own coarse fingers."
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 273 
 
 She spread out one hand as if in illustration, and, 
 seeing that her fingers were soft and slender after all, she 
 added : 
 
 " I suppose really it's because I'm not an artist by 
 nature. But surely there must be some people on earth 
 to just appreciate art — other people's art. Pictures, 
 for instance. Or books. Art does hft one above earth. 
 And I think however much humbug there may have been 
 in him — with his playing in the church at midnight — 
 and that sort of thing — it must have got rubbed off him 
 now out in the world. I'm sure he had talent enough 
 for anything." 
 
 " You're feeling quite fond of him, it seems to 
 me." 
 
 Hedvig did not answer at once ; but she was not dis- 
 concerted, only thinking it over in her mind. 
 
 " Could I ever be fonder of him than I was the day I 
 left him ? Impossible. And isn't that enough ? My 
 will is stronger than my heart — I don't want to be my 
 mother over again. For that's what it would have 
 meant. I felt myself that I must either go— turn my 
 back on him and go for good — or throw myself at his 
 feet as he stood there in the boat, bareheaded, golden- 
 haired, splendidly handsome, but with devil and tyrant 
 in his eyes. There's no such creature in aU the world. 
 Dear Fru van Haag, I feel myself far above everybody 
 in the world — yes, even you — when I think that he 
 loved me for just those five minutes or whatever it was. 
 But why did he love me ? Because I was proud. And 
 what did his love make of me ? A slave. Now, can you 
 understand that my way must lead away from him, that 
 I must turn my back on him and go ? Cold as a stone 
 — and with the fire of five minutes' love within." 
 
 They reached Copenhagen that evening, drove to 
 i8
 
 274 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 the hotel, had a bath and some dinner, and were in time 
 for a theatre after. The next few days were spent 
 chiefly in shoppmg. Fru van Haag threw herself into 
 the delights of feminine finery as a swimmer into the 
 sea. She had money now, and did not intend to bury 
 it. She wanted to infect Hedvig as well. As soon as 
 she perceived the girl lingering awhile with some soft 
 material between her fingers, Fru van Haag pressed 
 her insistently, wouldn't she take that, now ? How 
 many yards ? What — didn't want it ? Extraordinary 
 person ! 
 
 No — Hedvig shook her head. Nevertheless, as was 
 but natural, she would be standing there a moment 
 later, looking at her arm through some light silken stuff 
 that seemed woven of the sea-water itself. Not even 
 this, however, became hers ; her lot proved to be a dress 
 of black satin embroidered with violets. She disap- 
 peared into it like a bee into a flower, and when her 
 head peeped forth, and she saw herself in the glass, she 
 laughed till her eyelashes quivered. 
 
 Fru van Haag sat down in a wicker chair, and drew 
 a deep breath of approval. 
 
 Hedvig was lost now for good. She bowed down 
 before a pair of square-toed patent leather shoes, and 
 made obeisance to fantastic hats. 
 
 So she became a princess in Copenhagen, and next 
 morning, when the two ladies set out from the hotel, 
 in bright sunshine with a fresh breeze from the Sound, 
 on their way to the exhibition, people turned to look at 
 them, as if admitting with their eyes that the Lord had 
 taken pains over this piece of work, and with excellent 
 results here were two ladies who did Him credit. 
 
 " We'll separate now," said Fru van Haag, as they 
 reached the place.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 275 
 
 " Whatever for ? " asked Hedvig, with some dis- 
 appointment. 
 
 " Then we can each go where we Hke. See you 
 later on." 
 
 Hedvig bought a catalogue, and went in to the left ; 
 Fruen had gone to the right. 
 
 There seemed to be hardly more than a couple of 
 visitors besides themselves in the whole place. A noble- 
 looking old gentleman, with white hair, walked quietly 
 through on the matting. A schoolmistress, sadly eroded 
 by the ravages of time, kept stringently a picture's 
 length ahead of him, hurrying forward with hunted eyes 
 whenever he ghded nearer. The girl at the lottery board 
 was reading The Scarlet Pimpernel. 
 
 Hedvig sat down on a yellow sofa and opened her 
 catalogue. She read the childish titles of the works : 
 " Two Cows." And lower down, " Two Spotted Cows." 
 Now she came to the section headed Johan Fors : "An 
 Old Man in the Woods " ; " Young Swedish Girl on a 
 Windy Day " ; " Study from the Nude " ; " Nymphs 
 at Play." Johan was exhibiting twelve pictures in 
 all. 
 
 Hedvig crushed the book in her hand and rose. She 
 could not lie to herself — it was Johan's work she had 
 come to see — not to sit on a yellow sofa and look at 
 two cows and three cows. Yes, her heart was beating 
 crookedly, irregularly ; she was interested to see how 
 this man had turned out. 
 
 She caught up the old gentleman and the ravaged 
 schoolmistress ; some instinct told her where Johan's 
 pictures would be. 
 
 She was there now, in a fine, light room ; facing 
 the door hung a large picture with trees and water 
 and a bowed figure — evidently Johan's chief work —
 
 276 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 "the old man," which all the papers had praised so 
 much. 
 
 Hedvig steps nearer — the water, yes, that is Little 
 Belt, the trees are the dark firs outside Knarreby, and 
 the old man — was her father. He seemed at that 
 moment to raise his head and look at her with a burning 
 glance. 
 
 Hedvig could hardly stand upright, so violent was 
 the force of the sudden impression. 
 
 Hark, the murmur of the Belt, the whispering of 
 the wind in the long, parched grass, and the stiff needles 
 of the firs. The old man is kneeling, his hair fluttering 
 like an uncombed fringe about his bald head. And 
 beneath his clasped hands, with thin fingers intertwined, 
 a little heap of white, semi-transparent stones — his 
 sacrifice to God. 
 
 The whole was wrapped in a strange, misty light, 
 giving an irresistible impression of a scene from ancient, 
 ancient days. 
 
 But it was not this light, nor the melancholy lapping 
 of the waves that Hedvig felt most keenly, though she 
 had never before seen canvas thus transformed to life. 
 No, it was the man's face. Oh, aged man, what had he 
 not drunk of the bitter cup of life to cut those furrows 
 on his brow and set that mark of wretchedness upon 
 his Ups ! Here is a hand that would stroke his cheek — 
 but the foot turns to flee from him, in fear of those 
 uncanny eyes. Good, kindly eyes, but with so much 
 suffering in their depths that a poor girl turns away in 
 fear. How he must have cursed that very strength 
 and hardiness in himself, that let him live after the slow 
 fires of experience had burned the very eyes out of his 
 head ! 
 
 Hedvig stood before the picture, herself hardly a
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 277 
 
 living thing. But now came voices — coming nearer. 
 A voice of exaggerated sweetness, spelling out the words 
 it spoke — the schoolmistress, no doubt. " The res- 
 tau-rant," she said. Another voice saying, " Er " and 
 "Yes" and "I'm not quite sure . . ." — a man's 
 voice. 
 
 Hedvig looked down at her catalogue — waiting till 
 they had passed. Just for a moment she glanced up — 
 yes, it was the schoolmistress, but the man was not her 
 noble old gentleman. . . . Hedvig's heart came to a 
 sudden stop and then leapt on again, but her brain 
 still worked with something Uke its normal calm, 
 and noted that here was Johan Fors talking to that 
 woman. 
 
 Now he met her glance — both he and Hedvig started 
 violently. 
 
 The schoolmistress addressed herself to Hedvig. 
 " I beg your pardon — have you been all round ? " 
 
 " AU round ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I've been all through the place twice at 
 least. And I cannot find the restaurant. This gentle- 
 man has been round too, without finding so much as a 
 cup of coffee." 
 
 Hedvig had a vague idea the woman was talking 
 of voyages round the world. Oh, the whole thing was 
 a dream — or perhaps the woman was mad. 
 
 " Thank you — I do not want any coffee," she said 
 in her dream. 
 
 " But have you been round ? " 
 
 " Round ? No." 
 
 Johan Fors broke in suddenly, with great eagerness : 
 
 " Oh yes, I know now — I'm nearly sure it's that way 
 — just through there and down the stairs." 
 
 But the little schoolmistress had scented something
 
 278 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 clandestine between the two ; she eyed them with a 
 famished glance from one to the other, murmured her 
 thanks, and walked disconsolately away. 
 
 Johan and Hedvig were alone. They shook hands — 
 he with the same firm grip fiom his journeyman-painter 
 days, though his hand was smooth and delicate now, 
 and there was something like a gleam of higher, more 
 spiritual intelUgence over his brow. His clothes, too, 
 were different altogether now. He laughed, and held 
 Hedvig's hand long in his own, pressing it different 
 ways, as if to assure himself it was the one. Waves of 
 keen pleasure passed over his face. 
 
 Hedvig spoke first. 
 
 " I did not answer your letters," she said. 
 " I'm so dreadfully sorry now that I didn't. But I 
 don't suppose anyone but myself can understand 
 why it was. But I'm so dreadfully sorry, all the 
 same." 
 
 " Oh, never mind about that little delay." 
 
 " Delay ! I'm afraid it can't be judged so Hghtly 
 as that either." 
 
 " What else should it be ? I've the answer here 
 now. Here you are yourself. I'm holding your hand 
 — you grant me that little hand. You don't even call 
 for the pohce, but calmly let me stand here and 
 crumple it up as I please. Froken Egholm, what 
 better answer could I wish for than that you do not 
 despise me at all, but, on the contrary, treat me as 
 an equal ? " 
 
 Johan was not a painter's man now, either in his 
 manner or his words. He stood with his back to his 
 pictures — works that the finest judges in the country 
 had praised beyond all bounds. And now he feared 
 lest Hedvig should be confused in her judgment and take
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 279 
 
 him as one with his work ; therefore he was more than 
 ever modest and humble in his speech. 
 
 Said Hedvig : 
 
 " I have been standing here looking at the old man. 
 I've no idea how long. It was Hke being in another 
 world, to look at that picture." 
 
 She would have said more, but could not utter the 
 words. 
 
 Johan, sated with fame as he was, managed to flush 
 unmistakably ; he grasped her hand and thanked her 
 shyly. 
 
 " I'll show you the others," he said. " Here's an 
 Italian monastery. We got there late in the evening, 
 and it was cold. So we lit up a fire on the stone 
 slabs ; our newspapers and travelling books flaming up. 
 But it made a splendid light— and it is a splendid 
 light. I caught it. That man there is Lars, his 
 pictures are hanging here somewhere ; the others are 
 foreigners. Two hours' work — two and a half, perhaps, 
 no more. Oh, I never get tired of looking at that 
 picture." 
 
 Johan stepped closer, looking it over as a father 
 might a child. Then he sprang three paces back and 
 looked again. 
 
 He explained each picture to Hedvig in turn. To 
 tell the truth, he praised every one of them to the skies, 
 and in this he was exactly hke his old self from the 
 Knarreby days. But with all the resemblance there 
 was a striking difference ; he praised his work, not in 
 order to impress, but merely to share the joy he had 
 honestly won. His eyes shone blue as the sky in spring 
 as he talked. 
 
 Hedvig thanked him — and at once he thanked her 
 again.
 
 280 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 This was overdoing it, and he knew it, but those 
 cool, silky hands of hers were irresistible. 
 
 " If we walk on a little, we shall meet Fru van Haag," 
 said Hedvig. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Aren't you surprised ? " 
 
 " Everything that's nice seems possible now that 
 I've met you. And I know she's going to Italy and 
 all the rest of it. You must remember we've written 
 to each other often. She has been as the dearest mother 
 to me from the day she found me. . . . Look here, what 
 do you say to going out somewhere, all three — to the 
 woods, or somewhere by the sea, and talk over old 
 times ? " 
 
 " Yes, if Fru van Haag will come too. . . ." 
 
 " Come ! " said Johan Fors, with eager eyes. 
 
 But they did not find the one they sought. There 
 was hardly a soul in the exhibition building now. Then 
 Johan asked an attendant : 
 
 " Have you seen a lady — handsome, elegantly 
 dressed — oh, how would you describe her, Froken 
 Egholm ? " 
 
 " In a white jacket and white hat." 
 
 " Yes," said the man — he looked like an old 
 colonel — " that was the one that was running 
 about after a cup of coffee somewhere. She's gone 
 now." 
 
 Johan and Hedvig burst out laughing. 
 
 " No ; the one running round was another one. 
 Haven't you seen a tall, slender woman . . . ? " 
 
 " Ah yes, there were two — quite true. First there 
 was another one, but she came again after with the one 
 — your one — and then they went off together. Yes, 
 it's right enough," said the colonel, waving a hand as
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 281 
 
 if to ward off further discussion. " We don't serve 
 coffee here, you know." 
 
 Johan and Hedvig withdrew, and held a council of 
 war. It would be just Uke Fru van Haag to strike up 
 acquaintance in that way with a perfect stranger, as 
 long as the person in question were sufficiently out of 
 the ordinary. No doubt she would come back some 
 time. But when ? If they were going out for a drive, 
 as they thought, why, they must go now, opined Johan, 
 scratching his head. 
 
 " But it wouldn't be nice, surely, to go off Uke that 
 without Fru van Haag ? " 
 
 Johan met the difficulty smartly. 
 
 " Not nice — well, and was it nice of her, now, to 
 go running off like that without a word or a message, 
 and leave us here worrying ourselves to death, not know- 
 ing what's happened ? All for the sake of a miserable 
 cup of coffee. No, really, you know, that sort of thing's 
 not done in decent society." 
 
 Johan really looked angry. Hedvig laughed and 
 said : 
 
 " Well, what are we to do ? " 
 
 " You write a few words on a bit of paper and leave 
 them with the man here." 
 
 " Right — have you a piece of paper ? " 
 
 Johan tore a leaf from his notebook. Hedvig thought 
 for a moment, wrote a few words, and handed it back 
 to him, whereupon they both doubled up and laughed 
 mischievously. 
 
 The message ran : 
 
 " I've gone off with some one for a cup of coffee. 
 Don't wait. Hope you don't mind. 
 
 " Hedvig."
 
 282 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 A little later Hedvig and Johan were racing out in 
 a big grey car towards Dyrehaven, On reaching the 
 park, they got out, and Johan jested childishly with 
 the chauffeur about the dinner he was to order down at 
 the hotel. Johan had an irresistible way of making a 
 friend of anyone he pleased. All in a moment he and 
 the chauffeur were just a couple of red-headed boys, 
 comrades and equals, planning a piece of fun. 
 
 " If the shrimps are ripe — as to that I can't say," 
 said the chauffeur. " They catch 'em, you know. But 
 there's lobster, of course. They're bought. And better 
 eating too. Nothing much in shrimps, to my mind. 
 What do you say yourself, now ? No." 
 
 Hedvig stooped to fasten a shoelace, and felt her 
 heart leaping and laughing sweetly within her. 
 
 " And then about dessert now ? Something extra, 
 with cream, eh ? " The chauffeur laid his head on one 
 side with the air of a connoisseur. 
 
 " With cream, by all means, yes." 
 
 " Done, then." The chauffeur started his car, and 
 dashed off proudly, saluting, with curved fingers to his 
 cap. 
 
 Johan and Hedvig walked under the great beeches, 
 walked a long way clean across all the marked-out roads 
 and paths. Neither spoke a word, but they seemed 
 entirely in agreement at every change of direction. The 
 air was sunny and full of the scents of spring. Both 
 raised their heads to listen when a bird gave tongue. 
 Johan knew them — that was a bullfinch — that was a 
 tit — pink, pink. Hedvig knew them, too ; so what 
 need of caging their fresh impressions in any words ? 
 Tiny delicate twigs snapped underfoot, and from the 
 hills with their carpet of brown leaves came endless 
 numbers of anemone-maids running towards them.
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 283 
 
 A pleasant place to walk. The blood rose to their 
 cheeks. They turned round by a thicket and came to 
 a green open space, where a score of deer were grazing. 
 They stood watching the animals for a while ; then 
 Hedvig moved off. Johan did not notice it until she 
 was three paces off, but in a moment he was at her side 
 again, and this trifling little episode was enough to set 
 them both laughing, with more enjoyment than seemed 
 strictly warranted. 
 
 " You're a good walker, Froken Egholm." 
 
 " Yes, there are not many that can tire me out." 
 
 " That walk of yours annoj^s me — hurts me — makes 
 me thoroughly miserable." 
 
 Hedvig looked at him uncertainly. 
 
 " Don't you see — ^it's a thing that can't be painted. 
 I couldn't even paint it myself, though I can see it. 
 You can paint a dance, or a person running. But no 
 one can ever paint a young woman walking through the 
 woods in spring." 
 
 " No ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " But you said no ! " 
 
 " Ah, but if one would ..." 
 
 " One — is that you ? " asked Hedvig, nervously 
 fingering the buttons of one glove. 
 
 " No, you, Froken Egholm. If you'd let me paint 
 you. For, to tell the truth, I've never seen it before 
 to-day. I don't know how to explain . . ." 
 
 Johan put up one hand to his eyes, as a man does 
 when trying to see a thing more clearly in his mind. 
 A moment later he said : 
 
 " Froken Egholm — you had another name once— a 
 little name ..." 
 
 Hedvig buttoned away at her glove ; then suddenly
 
 284 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 she finished, looked him frankly in the eyes, and 
 said : 
 
 " I was ' Hedvig ' once — and you used to say ' Du ' 
 instead of ' Froken.' And I'm both still, if you hke. 
 The other way's simply silly — at least I think so." 
 
 Johan stood before her, shaking his head, and said : 
 
 " You make it all so dreadfully hard for me." 
 
 " I don't think so. How ? " 
 
 " Why . . . you say I may call you 'Hedvig' and say 
 ' Du ' to you. But I expected you to say no. And when 
 you said no, I was going to beg and pray of you to say 
 yes. And throw myself at your feet. And now — I'm 
 just miserable because I can't say it." 
 
 Hedvig's eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " Oh no — you mustn't be miserable," she said. 
 
 " But — but there's such a lot I had to say. I 
 love you, you know. But how am I to tell you ? 
 Listen ..." He took her hand and held it as if weigh- 
 ing it in his own. " I can see, Hedvig dear, that you 
 don't run away from me, and thrust me aside, but I 
 daren't believe my own senses. I feel I must go on my 
 knees to you. There's something — something from the 
 old days that I've got to ask pardon for." 
 
 " No, no, there's nothing," said Hedvig. " We had 
 to grow up first, both of us ; that was all." 
 
 Then Johan took her strongly in his arms. He lifted 
 her up, and walked backwards and forwards with her 
 for a while, as if he had forgotten to set her down 
 again. 
 
 " Strange. . . . Strange," he said again and again. 
 
 His face was so serious now — Hedvig even found, 
 to her surprise, something of a resemblance to the old 
 sorrow-burdened man on the picture. 
 
 " What is so strange, Johan ? "
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 285 
 
 " It's so strange that a thing you've thought out over 
 and over again a thousand times can still seem new 
 and wonderful. For I've cared for you, always, and 
 never for any other, and I've pictured to myself you 
 walking with me in a wood, and how you should be mine. 
 And now it's come. But I never thought you as lovely 
 as you are now — if I had, I could never have waited 
 to grow up, as you say. It was right, you know ; we 
 have to grow up first. And only to think how we've 
 gone together, as it were. Here are you, a queen among 
 all the women in the world, and I — I'm nothing com- 
 pared to you, Hedvig — but in my work . . . Anyhow, 
 now I've got you, I'll paint the world to bits. I'll be a 
 great artist now, Hedvig. You — you electrify me some- 
 how. No, I'll tell you what it is ; now, hsten. Do you 
 know that feeling when you're walking by the sea on a 
 summer day ? Feehng hot and tired — and there is the 
 sea. All blue and transparent water — and the white, 
 cold, guttering sand beneath. Do you know what I 
 mean ? " 
 
 " Yes — I know," said Hedvig, with serious attention. 
 They were walking slowly up the big hill now. Johan 
 held her hand in his, but his eyes were looking up and 
 out to a great distance. His brow was sUghtly furrowed ; 
 he was trying hard to paint his picture just as he 
 saw it. 
 
 " Good ! — but do you know how one can feel a simply 
 maddening desire to jump out into the cool, clear water, 
 like a sort of thirst in every nerve, a thirst that must 
 be quenched ? " 
 
 " Yes, I know," said Hedvig, with bowed head. 
 
 " Hedvig — you are the sea ! It's not your blue 
 eyes or any one thing about you, I mean, but you, all 
 of you. Your name — everything. And here have I
 
 286 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 been walking tired and hot for years past now, longing 
 to dive into you. . . . But the sea sHpped away from 
 me somehow, as if a glass wall rose up between you and 
 me. You didn't answer my letters. I felt as if I had 
 no air to breathe when you didn't write. Oh, I can't 
 understand now how I ever managed to paint a single 
 stroke." 
 
 Hedvig threw her arms round him and pressed her 
 head close to his breast. 
 
 " Oh, forgive me, forgive me, Johan. Do say you're 
 happy now, and not angry with me any more." 
 
 " Oh, I can't say such words to you, Hedvig. But 
 I love you more madly than ever now, with that look 
 in your eyes. I have seen it once before to-day — when 
 the Httle girl cried out for the dog that ran towards us 
 in the car. You are all tenderness, Hedvig dear. Not 
 a wooden doll, or a stuffed kiwi — no ! " 
 
 " Really, I think I can agree with you as to the 
 last," said Hedvig. " I don't feel in the least Hke a 
 stuffed cassowary or whatever it was you said." 
 
 Oh, Hedvig and Johan had many things to tell each 
 other to-day. They grew quite merry, and walked on, 
 cutting across all roads without any idea as to where 
 they would end. 
 
 " I'll tell you," said Johan, " how it was I managed 
 to hold out in spite of being in love with you and never 
 getting a word from you in return. I wrote to Fru van 
 Haag, and she consoled me. She simply said, ' Don't 
 worry about her ; she shall be yours all right as soon as 
 you've made your name as an artist.' And I didn't 
 see how I could beheve in it really, but I stuck to the 
 work, all the same. I made as if I did beheve it, and 
 then I went to Paris and Rome and all those places, and 
 starved and painted and — well, she was right, you see ! "
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 287 
 
 "Oh — Johan , . ." Hedvig clasped his arm suddenly. 
 " Did you order dinner at the hotel ? " 
 
 " Yes. Roast lamb and — oh, I can't remember 
 what I said. I was half out of my senses already at 
 the time. It was the chauffeur, really, who decided," 
 
 " Well, we must get Fru van Haag to come too ! " 
 
 " Yes," agreed Johan, and there were extra kisses 
 because it was a fine idea. 
 
 " But how are we to get hold of her ? " 
 
 " Oh, that's easy enough," 
 
 " How ? " 
 
 " He'll manage it all right — the chauffeur, I mean, 
 I sent him back to town to find her. Hedvig, I 
 wonder if you'll ever understand what I felt like at that 
 moment, standing there making jokes with that leather- 
 bound fellow in the car. I must get hold of Fru van 
 Haag, I said to myself. Either she'll have to help me 
 over the black depths of misery — in a word, take Hedvig 
 Egholm back home with her while I go out in a boat . , . 
 after all, a man's only one hfe, you know, and that's 
 not much use to him if he can't live it with the woman 
 he loves. Or else she'll be badly wanted to — to celebrate 
 the festive occasion. But you needn't suppose I dared 
 go far along that line of thought ! " 
 
 After another hour of deUght, Hedvig and Johan 
 came down to the hotel. The chauffeur was waiting 
 for them, and reported that he had found Fru van Haag, 
 not at the exhibition, but at her hotel. And she had 
 sent this card, 
 
 " Did you speak to her yourself ? " asked Hedvig. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Oh, thank Heaven for that ! I felt so nervous all 
 at once. I wonder why she wouldn't come." 
 
 Johan opened the envelope hastily, and read :
 
 288 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " Dear Johan Fors, — I can't come. There was an 
 important letter waiting for me here when I got back, 
 and I must go off to-night to Knarreby again. Come, 
 both of you, if you can. Clara van H." 
 
 He passed the card to Hedvig. 
 
 The dinner was countermanded. The car was brought 
 round, and a moment later they were driving back to 
 Copenhagen at full speed. 
 
 Neither Johan nor Hedvig spoke ; both were wonder- 
 ing what strange thing could have happened now. It 
 must certainly be something very serious indeed to make 
 Fru Clara return to Knarreby and Hr. van Haag. 
 
 " Could it be anything to do with us — my people — 
 father, I mean ? " said Hedvig, after a while. 
 
 " I shouldn't be surprised if you were right." 
 
 " You know, then, that Fru van Haag has been 
 just as much to father and mother as she has to us 
 two ? " 
 
 " Yes, I could see that from her letters. That is 
 to say — you know her upside-down way of looking at 
 things — she was always writing about how grateful she 
 was to you and your mother and father for aU you'd 
 been to her. And I believe her. Only think what 
 your father, for instance, has been to me. I used to 
 meet him at nights when I was out with my violin. If 
 it hadn't been for him, I shouldn't be the man I am now. 
 I have seen him kneeling down, offering up sacrifices of 
 stones and pouring out wine on the ground. I have 
 never spoken to him, but I feel I owe him a great deal, 
 nevertheless, for he helped to bring something of poetry, 
 mysticism, into my life." 
 
 Johan shook his head as if dwelling on some memory 
 of the past, and said :
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 289 
 
 " And for an artist, that's as needful as water for a 
 fish." 
 
 " Poetry, yes, but mysticism ..." said Hedvig 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " Poetry and mysticism are like oxygen and hydro- 
 gen, the two together make the water." 
 
 " Do you really mean it — do you, I wonder ? " said 
 Hedvig. And she repeated the words again as if to 
 herself. 
 
 They had reached the town now, and were twisting 
 and turning in and out between* clanging trams and 
 tinkhng cycles until they stopped in front of the tubbed 
 trees and spread awnings of the hotel. 
 
 Johan and Hedvig went up in the lift and knocked 
 at Fru van Haag's door. 
 
 " Come in ! " came from within. And they entered. 
 
 Fru Clara stood by the window, bending over a 
 trunk. She looked up with a smile, but her eyes were 
 reddened with weeping. 
 
 Hedvig's eyes were drawn at once to a little gilt 
 table where lay a letter with her mother's three dabs 
 of sealing-wax and the impress of a thimble. A sudden 
 fear seized her ; it must be something . . . her 
 father ..." 
 
 Johan kissed Fru Clara's hand, and said : 
 
 " Your prophecy's fulfilled, Fru van Haag. Hedvig 
 is my Hedvig now. As a matter of fact, she always has 
 been. But she wouldn't own up till to-day." 
 
 Fru van Haag drew them to her in turn, kissed each 
 on the brow, and uttered brokenly a few gay words about 
 youth and happiness. 
 
 " And I did so hope it would come. I never doubted 
 you, Johan, but I was a little anxious about her. And 
 now, you two dear creatures, come and hear what's 
 ^9
 
 290 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 happened in Knarreby, The bricks have turned out a 
 faihire ! Every single one of them a dead lump of 
 refuse. And your father had set all his hopes on this 
 one thing, and the shock was more than he could bear. 
 He's lying there at home now, very ill — perhaps 
 dying." 
 
 With tears of suffering in her eyes Fru Clara told 
 them what the letter said. Her own sensitive heart 
 had heard Egholm's despairing groans and Anna's quiet 
 grief. 
 
 " I must go home to them now. I must go by the 
 night train — it's the only thing to do," she said. 
 
 " I could go, Fru van Haag," said Hedvig. 
 
 " You ? No, dear, I must go myself." 
 
 " Oh, won't you let me ? " 
 
 " We can go together — all three of us, perhaps. 
 But I must go in any case. You've your way of look- 
 ing at your father, and I've mine. And the great thing 
 now is to make him happy at the last." 
 
 " I've come to look at father differently now," said 
 Hedvig softly. 
 
 " Since when ? " 
 
 Hedvig bowed her head. 
 
 " To-day," she said. 
 
 Fru van Haag saw now that Hedvig could accom- 
 plish as much as she herself — or perhaps more. She 
 realised too that it would raise a whirl of scandal if 
 she were to return to Knarreby without going to the 
 Toldbod. There was no saying what Hr. van Haag might 
 not find it necessary to do — for the look of the thing. It 
 was with twofold relief, therefore, that she learned of the 
 change in Hedvig's view. 
 
 They stayed together, all three, till the train went. 
 The two women quarrelled mildly about Johan. Fru
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 291 
 
 van Haag wanted him to go to Knarreby with Hedvig, 
 but Hedvig herself insisted that he should stay 
 with Fru van Haag for the few days that remained 
 until she left for the south. And Hedvig gained the 
 day. 
 
 The train roared out from the glass-roofed hall, 
 leaving Johan and Fru van Haag on the platform. 
 Among the scores of waving handkerchiefs their eyes 
 followed one. The metals creaked long after the train 
 had gone ; the space between the platforms yawned like 
 an open grave. 
 
 The crowd had begun to disperse ; Johan and Fru 
 Clara tore themselves away and followed, walking 
 slowly out towards Vesterbro. 
 
 Then Johan bent his viking neck, speaking close to 
 her ear in the noise of the traffic, and said : 
 
 " We shall meet next year in Rome, Fru van Haag. 
 And be happy together there ? Shall we ? " 
 
 Fru van Haag looked into his eyes with a glance at 
 once firm and deep. 
 
 " No," she said. " No, Johan Fors. Do not speak 
 to me of meeting in Rome. I have had a great 
 sorrow to-day — but a far greater joy. And I will 
 take both in my hands and go up into the solitude of 
 the mountains." 
 
 The street was thronged with a noisy crowd ; Johan 
 and Fru van Haag were elbowed and jostled from this 
 side and that, but Fru Clara seemed already as if moving 
 in her solitude among the mountains. Johan heard 
 every quiver of her wonderful voice ; her words seemed 
 to take form like rich dark grapes. 
 
 " I will go away and hide among the hills, where no 
 one can find me any more. Perhaps I may be able to 
 look up and follow you and Hedvig from afar — but you
 
 292 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 must not try to seek me out. I only hope the story of 
 Fru van Haag is ended happily to-day." 
 
 It was Fruen — Fruen of the gentle heart that spoke. 
 Johan walked with knit brows and said no word. He 
 felt he had no right to speak.
 
 XX 
 
 THE following night Hedvig sits in Egholm's little 
 parlour, talking with her father. He is fully 
 dressed — has been for the past three days and 
 nights, despite all Anna's prayers and entreaties. The 
 faint light of the oil-lamp reaches only to his chest, but 
 his haggard face seems twice as large as usual in the 
 half-dark above. He is in pain, without a moment's 
 respite. As he speaks, he writhes about, twisting his 
 body into different wry positions every minute. But 
 his voice is quite low and under control ; save for the 
 look of him, one might believe he was sitting over some 
 work that must be finished before the morning, having 
 a comfortable chat with his daughter as the night 
 draws on. 
 
 Yet he is speaking of death. 
 
 " I'm not afraid, you know. No more than the other 
 times I've changed my trade. Only a little anxious. 
 I turned photographer because I was no good on the 
 railway ; now I'm going to be a dead man because I'm 
 no good as a live one." 
 
 " You're going to get well, father, and do big things 
 yet. Make a great invention, or take up your old 
 turbine again. You see — you wait and see ; it will be all 
 right." 
 
 " Think a cracked heart can grow together again ? 
 
 Mine's cracked, as I said. I have to sit holding it all 
 
 the time, and as soon as I even think the least bit 
 
 293
 
 294 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 hard, the blood comes boiling out all loose into my 
 chest." 
 
 " But you know well enough it's not that really, 
 father. It feels like that, perhaps, but if it was true, 
 you'd be dead long ago." 
 
 But Egholm stuck to his own idea, and went 
 on : 
 
 " Now, the question is whether I shall be any good 
 dead. If not, what then ? I was no good as a mer- 
 chant, so I turned photographer, and being no more 
 good at that than the other, I turned railway man — the 
 thing I was least good at of all. And what then ? Photo- 
 grapher again. But can I get alive again if I find I only 
 make a hash of being dead ? I'm tired now, you know — 
 dreadfully tired. . . ." 
 
 " Haven't you anything you believe in now, father ? 
 Once, I remember, you used to be stronger in your belief 
 than anyone I've ever known." 
 
 Egholm twisted his body forward and expanded his 
 chest. 
 
 " No. No. It's all gone to pieces somehow. With 
 my faith as with my work. The Brethren over in Odense 
 sickened me of all religion, till I turned atheist. But 
 what sort of an atheist was I ? One that went out 
 secretly into the woods to offer up sacrifices to God. 
 I turned inventor, because I didn't somehow fit in among 
 the things we've got already. But my inventions were 
 no good, and I wished myself back in the olden times, 
 when everything was primitive all round." 
 
 Fru Egholm entered from the bedroom, and slipped 
 into a chair with a sigh. Egholm turned his head towards 
 her, and said : 
 
 " And I've been a tyrant to your mother here, bui a 
 clumsy one ; I wasn't even clever at that. . . ."
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 295 
 
 Fru Egholm sprang up, took one of his hands in hers, 
 and said, weeping : 
 
 " You ? Ah no, dear, no. You've been so good ! 
 Don't sit there in a solemn hour lying that you're wicked 
 when you're so good." 
 
 " Good ? I ? When ? " said Egholm. 
 
 " To-day and yesterday — always." 
 
 " No. Since Fru van Haag came, I've been ' good.' 
 But I've only been good very badly, just as I was wicked 
 very badly before she came." 
 
 Anna found this rather beyond her. She said : 
 
 " Remember : ' Judge not,' it says. And it's all the 
 same for not judging yourself." 
 
 " The punishment must be what it may. I can't 
 work it out any different." 
 
 Egholm laid his arms along the back of the settee, 
 one on either side ; his head drooped weakly forward, 
 and he went on faintly : 
 
 " No, it's just that I'm thinking about ; if I could 
 look back and find one single thing I'd ever done that 
 was complete and thorough, I could die in peace. But 
 there's nothing." 
 
 Hedvig glanced back mentally over her father's 
 Ufe, as far as she knew it. There were many evil things 
 she remembered. True, she could find excuses in his 
 sickness of mind, in his poverty, but she knew that what 
 he was thirsting for now was not forgiveness for sins 
 committed, but acknowledgment, appreciation of some 
 positive achievement. That alone can make a human 
 being happy. 
 
 " It is a great deal to ask," she said. " How many 
 can say they have done anything so great in their hves ? 
 Father, don't sit there and make me unhappy too. Are 
 you going to ask the same of me ? I'm only a girl, that
 
 296 THE MIRACLP:S OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 lives her life and looks after her work, and — how shall 
 I say it ? — cares for some one else in the world and believes 
 some one cares for her too. But, father, is there more 
 than that ? For Fve so Httle wish for anything more. 
 A special task in Hfe — is it that you mean ? Tell me 
 what you think, for I know you're wiser than I." 
 
 Egholm raised his head and looked at the girl ; the 
 furrows of pain showed lighter in his face. 
 
 " You ask me ? You do me the honour to ask what 
 I think ? No. don't ! You mustn't. All that I do 
 and all that I say is wrong. Don't hsten to me. Listen 
 to what your own heart tells you. You are wise — but 
 as for me, I know nothing — nothing." 
 
 " Oh, father, you know you don't mean that. You've 
 always reckoned me just as a silly, naughty girl." 
 
 Egholm smiled slightly. 
 
 " Naughty, yes — but it's just that naughtiness I 
 mostly count as wisdom now. You've always set your- 
 self up against me, from the time you were no bigger 
 than a sparrow. How did you know that was the only 
 proper thing to do ? I was your father — but who told 
 you that I was a fool as well ? Fve admired you in 
 secret for years past ; and to-day it shall be made 
 manifest, being the Last Day. You sprang at my throat 
 once, when you were a little girl — once when I was going 
 to ill-treat your mother. And since that time you've 
 been my superior." 
 
 " But, father — if Fm as perfect as you say, then you 
 have made something that's perfect, seeing Fm your 
 daughter ! " 
 
 Egholm started, but answered swiftly : 
 
 " I wasn't thinking of bodily things." 
 
 " But body and spirit can't be separated Hke that, 
 father. And I didn't go out into the world, away from
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 297 
 
 your influence, till I was nearly grown up. No, it's no 
 good shaking your head and saying you've only been an 
 example to rne of what I should avoid. Do you know 
 anything about pottery ? " 
 
 Egholm thought for a moment, but Hedvig, seeing 
 the effort worried him, went on at once : 
 
 " I knew a man who made vases and figures and baked 
 them in an oven. He was a great artist. And his vases 
 were the loveliest colours. He knew the secret of a 
 powder that nobody else knew. And it was that that 
 made the lovely colouring." 
 
 " A sort of alchemy ? " 
 
 " Something hke that, you might say. But your life 
 is just Hke that powder, father. And I can say that 
 my heart at least is a rare work of art, a vase in beautiful 
 colours. For I don't think there's anyone in the world 
 can feel so happy as I can. Oh, father, it is a lovely 
 thing, my heart." 
 
 Egholm felt soothed beyond measure by her words. 
 His face brightened to real gladness as he answered : 
 
 " Well, if I really am a magic powder, I don't mind 
 being burnt up ! " 
 
 Emanuel came home by the night train, and, later 
 still, Sivert came steahng in. He had gone back to his 
 old habit of nocturnal wanderings. The whole family 
 was now assembled, and Egholm chatted a little with 
 each in turn. There was no pain at his heart now, but 
 he assured them he was near to death. They propped 
 him up with pillows, and tried to jest — ^he wasn't going 
 to die this time. His conviction was unshaken, but 
 now and then he dozed off for a few minutes where he 
 sat, and at last dropped off into a peaceful sleep. 
 
 Fru Egholm beckoned the three children away. Who 
 could tell — perhaps the sleep would do him good.
 
 298 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 They decided to go up into the attic, where their 
 voices would not disturb him. Sivert was co tell them 
 all about the trouble at the brickworks. 
 
 " Yes," he said. " I knew it all beforehand. 
 Cornelius had sworn to have his revenge." 
 
 " Cornelius Worm ? For what ? " 
 
 " He clambered up into father's turbine boat one day 
 when he was a boy, and cut himself. And that's why he 
 cheated father over the brickworks." 
 
 " I don't think it needs any special secret reason to 
 make Cornehus Worm cheat anyone," said Hedvig. 
 
 " Ah, but he's been boasting of it to Sveidal, the 
 engineer. And Sveidal's a friend of mine. You don't 
 know the secrets of this world. But I think and think 
 and find them all out, down in my cellar." 
 
 " But even if Cornelius did want to cheat for some 
 reason or another, he couldn't make the burning turn out 
 a failure." 
 
 Sivert answered at once. 
 
 " The clay was all used up beforehand ; what was left 
 was nothing but gravel, really. But where one swindler 
 leaves off, another starts ; they form an alUance all 
 over the world. The foreman, he was a swindler too." 
 
 " But I thought he was so reasonable about wages," 
 said Emanuel. 
 
 " Ah, you haven't seen his contract. Father, he had 
 a contract too, in the end, hke somebody else I could 
 name. And that contract particularly said that the 
 foreman, in addition to his wages, was to have all im- 
 perfect or faulty bricks not ordinarily saleable as sound. 
 Do you see it now ? " 
 
 Sivert waved his hands and giggled in thorough 
 enjoyment of his own perspicacity. 
 
 " Now do you see why the foreman naturally managed
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 299 
 
 so as to have as many spoiled as possible ? All of them 
 were spoiled — and so they're all his ! " 
 
 Hedvig and Emanuel looked at each other — they 
 realised that perhaps Sivert was not talking nonsense 
 altogether. 
 
 After a pause Sivert went on again : 
 " And now we come to our inheritance." 
 " Heavens, Sivert, are you thinking of that ? " 
 " Yes — and laughing between my tears at the 
 thought." 
 
 " You'll be disappointed, Sivert, I'm afraid." 
 " I've chosen my thing. Nothing specially grand — 
 I've all I want in that line in my own wealthy, semi- 
 aristocratic home. Shall I show you what I've chosen ? " 
 Without waiting for an answer he ran out across the 
 loft and down the stairs to the kitchen. A moment later 
 he was back, holding in one hand a big brass ladle. 
 " Here — that's my portion ! " 
 " And do you really care about a thing like that ? " 
 " I'm going to give it to Minna Lund. She collects 
 brass and copper things. And whenever there's visitors, 
 she shows them round. We've visitors now nearly every 
 evening, people of the highest society — horse-doctors, 
 postmasters, and engineers. Sometimes she asks me in 
 too. And then I can sit quiet in my corner, pretending 
 to read in the telephone book, while they're all crowding 
 round to admire my brass ladle." 
 
 " And quite a nice thing to do with it too," said 
 Hedvig kindly. " Then you must polish it up nicely, 
 you know, and straighten out that big dent." 
 
 Sivert crouched together and slapped his thighs. 
 " What — the big dent ? Are you out of your senses 
 altogether ? Why, that's where father hit me on the 
 head with it, when I was only four. It's to stay there
 
 300 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 as it is, and hang like a bright memorial over the greatest 
 day in my life ! " 
 
 He held up the ladle to his head, and cried in 
 deHght : 
 
 " There, now, I swear . , . come and look— t^ fits 
 me still ! " 
 
 Hedvig lapsed into deep thought. Down below lay 
 an old man struggling with death — up here was his 
 victim waiting for his inheritance. Well, well, if it was 
 all a pottery experiment on the part of the Lord, it 
 had not turned out altogether well. A vase or so here 
 and there had spoiled in the burning. 
 
 She reahsed the gentleness of death ; for a httle 
 while she sat with her hands before her face, then, 
 rising, she stroked Si vert's hair and cheek. Si vert let 
 his arms fall limply to his sides ; his legs seemed weaken- 
 ing under him, and his Hps quivered. 
 
 The three sat on a little while yet, talking of what 
 had passed and what was to come. 
 
 As soon as Anna found herself alone with her husband, 
 she fell to tending him with the gentle hands of a woman 
 who has been a mother many times. In a Httle while 
 she had slipped Ms boots off, and laid his feet up without 
 waking him — he would never have allowed it otherwise. 
 He was not altogether without strength. His sleep 
 grew sounder, his hands, that had been clenched all the 
 time, opened now and fumbled gently at the rug she 
 had drawn over him. 
 
 Still as a shadow she sat, watching him. At the 
 least change in his breathing she sat up, ready to help— 
 if only she knew how ? But Egholm slept and slept. 
 Anna knelt down by the settee and unbuttoned his 
 waistcoat. 
 
 And here she might stay now she was here. She
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 301 
 
 was as near to him now as she could be, and by laying 
 the patchwork rug double, she could lie easily, resting 
 her forehead against the cushioned edge of the settee. 
 Anna had not slept now for two nights past. 
 
 All might turn out well yet — hear how he slept now, 
 her poor lad. Ah, dear Lord, it was no high treason 
 now to call him her poor lad, now he lay there all weak 
 and helpless. And she meant no harm by it indeed, 
 dear Lord, never a thought of harm. . . . 
 
 She ventured the same thought once more. Her 
 head rested so softly as she was now. The blood was 
 beating, beating through her veins ; she felt just as if 
 she were sitting by a cradle. Rockabye, rockabye — 
 sleep, sleep, sleep. And now, here was big sister Hed\dg 
 come home . . . rockabye, rockabye, sleep — Hedvig, 
 with good things for you and me — rockabye, rockabye 
 — and sleep. . . . 
 
 And at last Anna herself was sleeping — kneeUng, 
 bowed, as if in prayer before the great Buddha with the 
 shaven head. 
 
 An hour perhaps went by. Then suddenly she is 
 torn from her sleep by some one calling her name. 
 
 " Anna ! Anna ! " 
 
 She rubs her eyes, rubbing her spectacles off, draws 
 her stiff legs up under her, and springs to her feet. 
 
 " Oh, heavens — is it you, Egholm, my dear ! I must 
 have been dreaming. Is it worse, dear ? Did you 
 call ? " 
 
 Her brain is in a whirl, but every nerve tells her 
 something terrible is happening. 
 
 She fumbles for her glasses, strikes her forehead 
 against the chair she cannot see, and grows yet more 
 confused. At last she found what she sought. 
 
 " Oh, heavens — speak to me, Egholm, my dear ! "
 
 302 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 
 
 " It's come," said Egholm in a hollow, dreadful 
 voice. 
 
 " Does it hurt you, dear ? " 
 
 " Hurts— yes." 
 
 He had wormed himself right up to one arm of the 
 settee, and was sitting straight up, with one hand in 
 under his shirt. There was a greenish shimmer in his 
 eyes. 
 
 " Where — where does it hurt ? " asked Anna, shaking 
 all over. 
 
 " Here," he said, pointing under his ribs. " I'm all 
 icy cold from here downwards. It'll reach my heart 
 in a minute." 
 
 Anna stood swaying this way and that from the hips, 
 and digging her fingers into her grey hair. This wretched 
 old head of hers — could it not find something to help 
 somehow ? Was he to die and she to live ? Impossible ; 
 how could a man's httle finger live when the man was 
 killed ? 
 
 " What — what shall I do ? " she moans. 
 
 " Nothing to be done. Fire's going out," 
 
 " Hot-water bandages ! " 
 
 Egholm felt that here was an idea which might really 
 be some use. He said : 
 
 " It might help, perhaps, for a bit. But it'll have 
 to be quick — quick ! " 
 
 Anna dashed out into the kitchen and put a kettle 
 on the oil-stove. 
 
 " Quick, quick ! " cried Egholm wildly. 
 
 She tore forth all manner of woollen things and tried 
 to wrap round him, but he was unreasonable, and thrust 
 her away, muttering words she did not understand. 
 
 " What's the good of insulating when the fire's out. 
 No, heat's the thing. Fire — fire."
 
 THE MIRACLES OF CLARA VAN HAAG 303 
 
 Anna feels at the water — ^it is bitingly cold. 
 
 " Light the fire — and let the powder burn ! Can't 
 you hear ? Light the fire — the fire ! " 
 
 Anna's thoughts are fl3^ng all ways at once. Where 
 is there warmth to be got this icy, deathly night ? And 
 then a great white thought comes fluttering home to 
 her. Now she knows ! She tears open her bodice and 
 the pitiful Hnen beneath, and presses her beating heart 
 against his chest, lays herself close against his body, with 
 but one wish, that the fire in her heart might serve him, 
 might burn for him, and keep the ice from freezing his 
 heart to a standstill. 
 
 She lay there so, long after the last sigh had quivered 
 through him. For it may have been the lot of some to 
 lay their heart close to another's and pour warm blood 
 into it, but that is a great happiness. And the great 
 happiness was not to be her lot. 
 
 So she lay, when the first rays of the sun shone 
 through the curtains. The light came earlier now than 
 before ; for all the trees were felled, and Engineer 
 Sveidal's levelhng ran right up to the wall.
 
 PRINTBD BY 
 
 MORRISON AND OIBB LTD. 
 
 EDINBURGH
 
 
 APR 1 3 1982 
 
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 CAYLORD 
 
 
 
 PRINTED IN US A. 

 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000 317 281 
 
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