the bohemian girl-第8部分

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whispered；　when　Nils　went　up　to　her　stall　and　asked　for　lemonade。







Nils　leaned　against　the　booth；　talking　to　the　excited　little



girl　and　watching　the　people。　　The　barn　faced　the　west；　and　the



sun；　pouring　in　at　the　big　doors；　filled　the　whole　interior　with　a



golden　light；　through　which　filtered　fine　particles　of　dust　from



the　haymow；　where　the　children　were　romping。　　There　was　a　great



chattering　from　the　stall　where　Johanna　Vavrika　exhibited　to　the



admiring　women　her　platters　heaped　with　fried　chicken；　her　roasts



of　beef；　boiled　tongues；　and　baked　hams　with　cloves　stuck　in　the



crisp　brown　fat　and　garnished　with　tansy　and　parsley。　　The　older



women；　having　assured　themselves　that　there　were　twenty　kinds　of



cake；　not　counting　cookies；　and　three　dozen　fat　pies；　repaired　to



the　corner　behind　the　pile　of　watermelons；　put　on　their　white



aprons；　and　fell　to　their　knitting　and　fancywork。　　They　were　a　fine



company　of　old　women；　and　a　Dutch　painter　would　have　loved　to　find



them　there　together；　where　the　sun　made　bright　patches　on　the　floor



and　sent　long；　quivering　shafts　of　gold　through　the　dusky　shade　up



among　the　rafters。　　There　were　fat；　rosy　old　women　who　looked　hot



in　their　best　black　dresses；　spare；　alert　old　women　with　brown；



dark…veined　hands；　and　several　of　almost　heroic　frame；　not　less



massive　than　old　Mrs。　Ericson　herself。　　Few　of　them　wore　glasses；



and　old　Mrs。　Svendsen；　a　Danish　woman；　who　was　quite　bald；　wore　the



only　cap　among　them。　　Mrs。　Oleson；　who　had　twelve　big



grandchildren；　could　still　show　two　braids　of　yellow　hair　as　thick



as　her　own　wrists。　　Among　all　these　grandmothers　there　were　more



brown　heads　than　white。　　They　all　had　a　pleased；　prosperous　air；　as



if　they　were　more　than　satisfied　with　themselves　and　with　life。　



Nils；　leaning　against　Hilda's　lemonade　stand；　watched　them



as　they　sat　chattering　in　four　languages；　their　fingers　never



lagging　behind　their　tongues。







〃Look　at　them　over　there；〃　he　whispered；　detaining　Clara　as



she　passed　him。　　〃Aren't　they　the　Old　Guard？　　I've　just　counted



thirty　hands。　　I　guess　they've　wrung　many　a　chicken's　neck　and



warmed　many　a　boy's　jacket　for　him　in　their　time。〃







In　reality　he　fell　into　amazement　when　he　thought　of　the



Herculean　labours　those　fifteen　pairs　of　hands　had　performed：　of



the　cows　they　had　milked；　the　butter　they　had　made；　the　gardens



they　had　planted；　the　children　and　grandchildren　they　had　tended；



the　brooms　they　had　worn　out；　the　mountains　of　food　they　had



cooked。　　It　made　him　dizzy。　　Clara　Vavrika　smiled　a　hard；



enigmatical　smile　at　him　and　walked　rapidly　away。　　Nils'　eyes



followed　her　white　figure　as　she　went　toward　the　house。　　He



watched　her　walking　alone　in　the　sunlight；　looked　at　her　slender；



defiant　shoulders　and　her　little　hard…set　head　with　its　coils　of



blue…black　hair。　　〃No；〃　he　reflected；　〃she'd　never　be　like　them；



not　if　she　lived　here　a　hundred　years。　　She'd　only　grow　more



bitter。　　You　can't　tame　a　wild　thing；　you　can　only　chain　it。　



People　aren't　all　alike。　　I　mustn't　lose　my　nerve。〃　　He　gave



Hilda's　pigtail　a　parting　tweak　and　set　out　after　Clara。　　〃Where



to？〃　he　asked；　as　he　came　upon　her　in　the　kitchen。







〃I'm　going　to　the　cellar　for　preserves。〃







〃Let　me　go　with　you。　　I　never　get　a　moment　alone　with　you。　



Why　do　you　keep　out　of　my　way？〃







Clara　laughed。　　〃I　don't　usually　get　in　anybody's　way。〃







Nils　followed　her　down　the　stairs　and　to　the　far　corner　of



the　cellar；　where　a　basement　window　let　in　a　stream　of　light。　



From　a　swinging　shelf　Clara　selected　several　glass　jars；　each



labeled　in　Johanna's　careful　hand。　　Nils　took　up　a　brown　flask。　



〃What's　this？　　It　looks　good。〃







〃It　is。　　It's　some　French　brandy　father　gave　me　when　I　was



married。　　Would　you　like　some？　　Have　you　a　corkscrew？　　I'll　get



glasses。〃







When　she　brought　them；　Nils　took　them　from　her　and　put　them



down　on　the　window…sill。　　〃Clara　Vavrika；　do　you　remember　how



crazy　I　used　to　be　about　you？〃







Clara　shrugged　her　shoulders。　　〃Boys　are　always　crazy



about　somebody　or　another。　　I　dare　say　some　silly　has　been　crazy



about　Evelina　Oleson。　　You　got　over　it　in　a　hurry。〃







〃Because　I　didn't　come　back；　you　mean？　　I　had　to　get　on；　you



know；　and　it　was　hard　sledding　at　first。　　Then　I　heard　you'd



married　Olaf。〃







〃And　then　you　stayed　away　from　a　broken　heart；〃　Clara　laughed。







〃And　then　I　began　to　think　about　you　more　than　I　had　since　I



first　went　away。　　I　began　to　wonder　if　you　were　really　as　you　had



seemed　to　me　when　I　was　a　boy。　　I　thought　I'd　like　to　see。　　I've



had　lots　of　girls；　but　no　one　ever　pulled　me　the　same　way。　　The



more　I　thought　about　you；　the　more　I　remembered　how　it　used　to　be



like　hearing　a　wild　tune　you　can't　resist；　calling　you　out　at



night。　　It　had　been　a　long　while　since　anything　had　pulled　me　out



of　my　boots；　and　I　wondered　whether　anything　ever　could　again。〃



Nils　thrust　his　hands　into　his　coat　pockets　and　squared　his



shoulders；　as　his　mother　sometimes　squared　hers；　as　Olaf；　in　a



clumsier　manner；　squared　his。　　〃So　I　thought　I'd　come　back　and　see。



Of　course　the　family　have　tried　to　do　me；　and　I　rather　thought　I'd



bring　out　father's　will　and　make　a　fuss。　　But　they　can　have　their



old　land；　they've　put　enough　sweat　into　it。〃　　He　took　the　flask　and



filled　the　two　glasses　carefully　to　the　brim。　　〃I've　found　out　what



I　want　from　the　Ericsons。　　Drink　skoal；　Clara。〃　　He　lifted



his　glass；　and　Clara　took　hers　with　downcast　eyes。　　〃Look　at　me；



Clara　Vavrika。　　Skoal！〃







She　raised　her　burning　eyes　and　answered　fiercely：　〃Skoal！〃











The　barn　supper　began　at　six　o'clock　and　lasted　for　two



hilarious　hours。　　Yense　Nelson　had　made　a　wager　that　he　could　eat



two　whole　fried　chickens；　and　he　did。　　Eli　Swanson　stowed　away　two



whole　custard　pies；　and　Nick　Hermanson　ate　a　chocolate　layer　cake



to　the　last　crumb。　　There　was　even　a　cooky　contest　among　the



children；　and　one　thin；　slablike　Bohemian　boy　consumed　sixteen　and



won　the　prize；　a　gingerbread　pig　which　Johanna　Vavrika　had



carefully　decorated　with　red　candies　and　burnt　sugar。　　Fritz



Sweiheart；　the　German　carpenter；　won　in　the　pickle　contest；　but　he



disappeared　soon　after　supper　and　was　not　seen　for　the　rest　of　the



evening。　　Joe　Vavrika　said　that　Fritz　could　have　managed　the



pickles　all　right；　but　he　had　sampled　the　demijohn　in　his　buggy　too



often　before　sitting　down　to　the　table。







While　the　supper　was　being　cleared　away　the　two　fiddlers　began



to　tune　up　for　the　dance。　　Clara　was　to　accompany　them　on　her　old



upright　piano；　which　had　been　brought　down　from　her　father's。　　By



this　time　Nils　had　renewed　old　acquaintances。　　Since　his　interview



with　Clara　in　the　cellar；　he　had　been　busy　telling　all　the　old



women　how　young　they　looked；　and　all　the　young　ones　how　pretty　they



were；　and　assuring　the　men　that　they　had　here　the　best　farmland　in



the　world。　　He　had　made　himself　so　agreeable　that　old　Mrs。



Ericson's　friends　began　to　come　up　to　her　and　tell　how　lucky　she



was　to　get　her　smart　son　back　again；　and　please　to　get　him　to　play



his　flute。　　Joe　Vavrika；　who　could　still　play　very　well　when　he



forgot　that　he　had　rheumatism；　caught　up　a　fiddle　from　Johnny



Oleson　and　played　a　crazy　Bohemian　dance　tune　that　set　the　wheels



going。　　When　he　dropped　the　bow　every　one　was　ready　to　dance。







Olaf；　in　a　frock　coat　and　a　solemn　made…up　necktie；　led　the　grand



march　with　his　mother。　　Clara　had　kept　well　out　of　that



by　sticking　to　the　piano。　　She　played　the　march　with　a　pompous



solemnity　which　greatly　amused　the　prodigal　son；　who　went　over　and



stood　behind　her。







〃Oh；　aren't　you　rubbing　it　into　them；　Clara　Vavrika？　　And



aren't　you　lucky　to　have　me　here；　or　all　your　wit　would　be　thrown



away。〃







〃I'm　used　to　being　witty　for　myself。　　It　saves　my　life。〃







The　fiddles　struck　up　a　polka；　and　Nils　convulsed　Joe　Vavrika



by　leading　out　Evelina　Oleson；　the　homely　schoolteacher。　　His　next



partner　was　a　very　fat　Swedish　girl；　who；　although　she　was　an



heiress；　had　not　been　asked　for　the　first　dance；　but　had　stood



against　the　wall　in　her　tight；　high…heeled　shoes；　nervously



fingering　a　lace　handkerchief。　　She　was　soon　out　of　breath；　so　Nils



led　her；　pleased　and　panting；　to　her　seat；　and　went　over　to　the



piano；　from　which　Clara　had　been　watching　his　gallantry。　　〃Ask



Olena　Yenson；〃　she　whispered。　　〃She　waltzes　beautifully。〃







Olena；　too；　was　rather　inconveniently　plump；　handsome　in　a　smooth；



heavy　way；　with　a　fine　colour　and　good…natured；　sleepy　eyes。　　She



was　redolent　of　violet　sachet　powder；　and　had　warm；　soft；　white



hands；　but　she　danced　divinely；　moving　as　smoothly　as　the　tide



coming　in。　〃There；　that's　something　like；〃　Nils　said　as　he　released



her。　　〃You'll　give　me　the　next　waltz；　won't　you？　　Now　I　must　go　and



dance　with　my　little　cousin。〃







Hilda　was　greatly　excited　when　Nils　went　up　to　her　stall　and



held　out　his　arm。　　Her　little　eyes　sparkled；　but　she　declared　that



she　could　not　leave　her　lemonade。　　Old　Mrs。　Ericson；　who　happened



along　at　this　moment；　said　she　would　attend　to　that；　and　Hilda　came



out；　as　pink　as　her　pink　dress。　　The　dance　was　a　schottische；　and



in　a　moment　her　yellow　braids　were　fairly　standing　on　end。　



〃Bravo！〃　Nils　cried　encouragingly。　　〃Where　did　you　learn　to　dance



so　nicely？〃