by Jules Verne
CHAPTER VI.
"Is this Dame Hansen's inn?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," answered Hulda.
"Is Dame Hansen at home?"
"No; but she will soon return, and if you wish to speak to her--"
"I do not. There is nothing I want to say to her."
"Would you like a room?"
"Yes; the best in the house."
"Shall we prepare dinner for you?"
"As soon as possible, and see to it that everything is of the verybest quality."
These remarks were exchanged between Hulda and the traveler before thelatter had alighted from the kariol, in which he had journeyed tothe heart of the Telemark across the forests, lakes, and valleys ofCentral Norway.
Every one who has visited Scandinavia is familiar with the kariol,the means of locomotion so dear to the hearts of her people. Two longshafts, between which trots a horse wearing a square wooden collar,painted yellow and striped with black, and guided with a simple ropepassed, not through his mouth, but around his nose, two large,slender wheels, whose springless axle supports a small gay-colored,shell-shaped wagon-body, scarcely large enough to hold one person--nocovering, no dash-board, no step--but behind, a board upon which the_skydskarl_ perches himself. The whole vehicle strongly reminds one ofan enormous spider between two huge cobwebs represented by the wheelsof the vehicle.
At a sign from the traveler the _skydskarl_ sprung to the horse'shead, and the stranger rose, straightened himself out, and finallyalighted, though not without some difficulty, judging from two orthree muttered curses.
"Will they put my kariol under shelter?" he asked, curtly, pausingupon the threshold.
"Yes, sir," replied Hulda.
"And find my horse?"
"I will have him put in the stable immediately."
"Have him well cared for."
"Certainly, sir. May I ask if you intend to remain in Dal severaldays?"
"I don't know yet."
The kariol and horse were taken to a small barn built under theshelter of some trees at the foot of the mountain. It was the onlystable connected with the inn, but it sufficed for the requirements ofits guests.
In a few moments the traveler was duly installed in the best chamber,where, after removing his cloak, he proceeded to warm himself beforethe fire he had ordered lighted. In the meantime, Hulda, to satisfythis exacting guest, bade the _piga_ (a sturdy peasant-girl, whohelped in the kitchen, and did the rough work of the inn during thesummer) prepare the best dinner possible.
A strong, hardy man was this new-comer, though he had already passedhis sixtieth year. Thin, slightly round-shouldered, of medium stature,with an angular head, smoothly shaven face, thin, pointed nose, smalleyes that looked you through and through from behind large spectacles,a forehead generally contracted by a frown, lips too thin for apleasant word ever to escape them, and long, crooked fingers, he wasthe very personification of an avaricious usurer or miser, and Huldafelt a presentiment that this stranger would bring no good fortune toDame Hansen's house.
He was a Norwegian unquestionably, but one of the very worst type.His traveling costume consisted of a broad-brimmed, low-crowned hat,a snuff-colored suit, the breeches fastened at the knee with a leatherstrap, and over all a large brown cloak, lined with sheep-skin toprotect its wearer from the chilly night air.
Hulda did not ask him his name, but she would soon learn it, as hewould have to enter it upon the inn register.
Just then Dame Hansen returned, and her daughter announced the arrivalof a guest who demanded the best room and the best food that the innafforded, but who vouchsafed no information in regard to the probablelength of his stay.
"And he did not give his name?" asked Dame Hansen.
"No, mother."
"Nor say whence he came?"
"No."
"If he is not a tourist, what can have brought him to Dal?" said DameHansen to herself rather than to her daughter, and in a tone thatindicated some uneasiness.
But Hulda could not answer this question, as the new-comer hadacquainted her with none of his plans.
About an hour after his arrival the man came out into the main hall,from which his door opened, but seeing Dame Hansen sitting there, hepaused upon the threshold.
Evidently he was as much of a stranger to his hostess as his hostesswas to him; but he finally walked toward her, and after a long look ather from over his spectacles:
"You are Dame Hansen, I suppose?" he said, without even touching thehat he had not yet removed from his head.
"Yes, sir."
In the presence of this man the widow, strange to say, experienced,like her daughter, an uneasiness for which she could not account, butwhich her guest must have noticed.
"So you are really Dame Hansen, of Dal?" he continued.
"Certainly, sir. Have you anything particular to say to me?"
"Nothing; I only wished to make your acquaintance. Am I not yourguest? And now I should like you to see that I have my dinner as soonas possible."
"Your dinner is ready," interposed Hulda, "and if you will step intothe dining-room--"
"I will."
As he spoke, the stranger directed his steps toward the doorindicated, and a moment afterward he was seated near the window infront of a small, neatly spread table.
The dinner was certainly good. The most fastidious traveler could nothave found fault with it; nevertheless, this ill-tempered individualwas not sparing in his signs and words of dissatisfaction--especiallysigns, for he did not appear to be very loquacious. One could hardlyhelp wondering whether this fault-finding was due to a poor digestionor a bad temper. The soup of cherries and gooseberries did not suithim, though it was excellent, and he scarcely tasted his salmonand salt-herring. The cold ham, broiled chicken and nicely seasonedvegetables did not seem to please him, and his bottle of claret andhis half bottle of champagne seemed to be equally unsatisfactory,though they came from the best cellars in France; and when the repastwas concluded the guest had not even a "_tack for mad_" for hishostess.
After dinner the old curmudgeon lighted his pipe and went out for awalk along the river bank.
On reaching the stream he turned and fixed his eyes upon the inn. Heseemed to be studying it under all its varied aspects, as if trying toform a correct estimate of its value.
He counted every door and window, and finally on his return to theinn he stuck his knife into the horizontal beams at its base, as if totest the quality of the wood and its state of preservation. Couldit be that he was trying to find out how much Dame Hansen's inn wasreally worth? Did he aspire to become the owner of it, though it wasnot for sale? All this was certainly very strange, especially ashe afterward turned his attention to the little yard, the trees andshrubs of which he counted carefully, and finally measured both sidesof the inclosure with regular strides, after which the movement of hispencil over a page of his memorandum-book seemed to indicate that hewas multiplying one by the other.
All the while Dame Hansen and her daughter were watching him from oneof the windows of the inn. What strange creature was this, and whatcould be the object of his visit? It was greatly to be regretted thatall this took place during Joel's absence, especially as the eccentricindividual was going to spend the night at the inn.
"What if he is a madman?" said Hulda.
"A madman? no," replied Dame Hansen. "But he is a very eccentricperson, to say the least."
"It is always unpleasant to be ignorant of the name of the person youare entertaining," remarked the young girl.
"Before he re-enters the house, Hulda, be sure that you carry theregister into his room. Perhaps he will conclude to write his name init."
"Yes, mother."
Just at dusk a fine rain began to fall, so the stranger returned tothe inn. He asked for a small glass of brandy, then without sayinga word, or even bidding any one good-night, he took his woodencandlestick, and entering his room bolted the door behind him, andnothing further was heard from him that night.
The _skydskarl_ had taken refuge in the barn, where he was alreadysound asleep in company with the sorrel horse.
Dame Hansen and her daughter rose with the sun the next morning, butno sound came from the room of their guest, who was probably stillsleeping. A little after nine o'clock he made his appearance even moreglum and ill-tempered than the evening before, complaining that hisbed had been hard, and that the noise in the house had kept himawake; then he opened the door and looked out at the sky.
The prospect was not very cheering, certainly, for the wind wasblowing a gale, and the stranger concluded not to venture out. Stillhe did not waste his time. With his pipe in his mouth he walked aboutthe inn as if trying to familiarize himself with the arrangementof the interior. He visited all the different rooms, examined thefurniture, and peered into cupboards and sideboards with as muchcoolness as if he had been in his own house.
Though the man was singular in appearance, his actions were certainlyeven more singular. Finally he seated himself in the big arm-chair,and proceeded to question Dame Hansen in a curt, almost rude tone. Howlong had the inn been built? Was it her husband that built it, or didhe inherit it? How much land was there around it, and what was theextent of the adjoining _souter_? Was the inn well patronized, anddid it pay well? How many tourists came there on an average during thesummer? Did they usually spend one or several days there? etc., etc.
It was evident that the stranger had not looked at the register thathad been placed in his room, for that would have given him all theinformation he desired upon this last point.
In fact, the book was still on the table where Hulda had placed it theevening before, and the traveler's name was not in it.
"I do not understand how and why these matters can interest you, sir,"said Dame Hansen at last; "but if you wish to know the state ofour business, nothing could be easier. You have only to examine theregister, in which you would greatly oblige me by entering your nameaccording to custom."
"My name? I will write my name in it, certainly. I will write it therebefore I leave, which will be immediately after breakfast, as I amanxious to get back to Drammen by to-morrow evening."
"Drammen!" repeated Dame Hansen, hastily.
"Yes. Will you give me my breakfast as soon as possible?"
"Do you live in Drammen?"
"Yes. May I ask if there is anything astonishing about the fact that Ireside in Drammen?"
So, after spending scarcely twenty-four hours in Dal, or rather atthe inn, the traveler left without making the slightest effort to seeanything of the surrounding country, Gousta, and Rjukanfos, and thewonders of the valley of the Vesfjorddal were entirely ignored.
It certainly could not have been for pleasure that he left Drammen, sohe must have come on business, and the sole object of his visit seemedto have been a careful examination of Dame Hansen's establishment.
It was plain to Hulda that her mother was deeply troubled, forshe seated herself in her big arm-chair, and pushing aside herspinning-wheel, remained there silent and motionless.
In the meantime the traveler had gone into the dining-room and seatedhimself at the table. Though the breakfast was as carefully preparedas the dinner of the evening before, it seemed to give no bettersatisfaction; and yet the guest eat and drank in the same leisurelyfashion. His attention seemed to be chiefly bestowed upon thesilver--a luxury highly prized among Norwegian peasants, where thefew forks and spoons which are handed down from father to son arecarefully preserved with the family jewels.
Meanwhile the _skydskarl_ busied himself with his preparations fordeparture; and by eleven o'clock the horse and kariol were standingbefore the door of the inn.
The weather was still threatening; the sky was dull and overcast, andnow and then big drops of rain dashed against the window-panes; butthis traveler with his heavy cloak lined with sheep-skin was not a manto worry about the weather.
Breakfast over, he called for one more glass of brandy, lighted hispipe, and put on his coat, then stepping out into the hall he calledfor his bill.
"I will make it out immediately," replied Hulda, seating herself at asmall desk.
"Be quick about it," said the traveler. "And now," he added, "you hadbetter bring me your book so I can write my name in it."
Dame Hansen rose and left the room to get the register, which, on herreturn, she placed upon the large table.
The stranger picked up a pen and took one more long look at DameHansen over his spectacles; then he wrote his name in a large, roundhand, and closed the book.
Just at that moment Hulda handed him his bill. He took it, examinedeach item separately, and then proceeded to add up the figures,grumbling all the while.
"Hum!" he exclaimed. "This is very dear! Seven marks and a half for anight's lodging and two meals!"
"You forget the _skydskarl_ and the horse," remarked Hulda.
"Nevertheless, I think your charge very high. I really don't see howyou can expect to prosper if you are so exorbitant in your charges."
"You owe me nothing, sir," said Dame Hansen, in a voice that trembledso that it was scarcely audible.
She had just opened the register and read the name inscribed upon it,and now taking the bill and tearing it up, she repeated:
"You owe me nothing."
"That is exactly my opinion,'" replied the stranger.
And without bidding them good-bye on his departure any more than hehad bidden them good-day on his arrival, he climbed into his kariol,and the _skydskarl_ jumped upon the board behind him. A few secondslater he had disappeared around a turn in the road. When Hulda openedthe book she found there only this name--
"Sandgoist, from Drammen."
