The Emperor of Portugallia

"No you don't!" cried he. "I'll keep these articles for the present. You've wasted enough time already on this emperor nonsense. Now you'd better go straight home and take to your digging again."

Jan did not appear to be specially anxious to obey; whereupon Lars again raised the stick, and nothing more was needed to make Emperor Johannes of Portugallia turn and flee.

No one made a move to follow him or offered him a word of sympathy. No one called to him to come back. Indeed folks only laughed when they saw how pitilessly and unceremoniously he had been stripped of all his grandeur.

But this did not suit Lars, either. He wanted to have it as solemn at his auctions as at a church service.

"I think it's better to talk sense to Jan than to laugh at him," he said, reprovingly. "There are many who encourage him in his foolishness and who even call him Emperor. But that is hardly the right way to treat him. It would be far better to make him understand who and what he is, even though he doesn't like it. I have been his employer for some little time, therefore it is my bounden duty to see that he goes back to his work; otherwise he'll soon be a charge on the parish."

After that Lars held a good auction, with close and high bids. The satisfaction which he now felt was not lessened when on his homecoming the next day, he learned that Jan of Ruffluck had again put on his working clothes, and gone back to his digging.

"We must never remind him of his madness," Lars Gunnarson warned his people, "then perhaps his reason will be spared to him. Anyhow, he has never had more than he needs."

THE CATECHETICAL MEETING

Lars Gunnarson was decidedly pleased with himself for having taken the cap and stick away from Jan; it looked as if he had at the same time relieved the peasant of his mania.

A fortnight after the auction at Bergvik a catechetical meeting was held at Falla. People had gathered there from the whole district round about Dove Lake, the Ruffluck folk being among them. There was nothing in Jan's manner or bearing now that would lead one to think he was not in his right mind.

All the benches and chairs in the house had been moved into the large room on the ground floor and arranged in close rows, and there sat every one who was to be catechized, including Jan; for to-day he had not pushed his way up to a better seat than he was entitled to. Lars kept his eyes on Jan. He had to admit to himself that the man's insanity had apparently been checked. Jan behaved now like any rational being; he was very quiet and all who greeted him received only a stiff nod in response, which may have been due to a desire on his part not to disturb the spirit of the meeting.

The regular meeting was preceded by a roll call, and when the pastor called out "Jan Anderson of Ruffluck Croft," the latter answered "here" without the slightest hesitation – as if Emperor Johannes of Portugallia had never existed.

The clergyman sat at a table at the far end of the room, with the big church registry in front of him. Beside him sat Lars Gunnarson, enlightening him as to who had moved away from the district within the year, and who had married.

Jan having answered all questions correctly and promptly, the pastor turned to Lars and put a query to him in a low tone of voice.

"It was not as serious as it appeared," said Lars. "I took it out of him. He works at Falla every day now, as he has always done."

Lars had not thought to lower his voice, as had the pastor. Every one knew of whom he was speaking and many glanced anxiously at Jan, who sat there as calm as though he had not heard a word.

Later, when the catechizing was well on, the pastor happened to ask a trembling youth whose knowledge of the Scriptures was to be tested, to repeat the Fourth Commandment.

It was not wholly by chance the pastor had chosen this commandment as his text for that evening. When seated thus in a comfortable old farmhouse, with its olden-time furniture, and much else that plainly bespoke a state of prosperity, he always felt moved to impress upon his hearers how well those prosper who hold together from generation to generation, who let their elders govern as long as they are able to do so, and who honour and cherish them throughout the remaining years of their lives.

He had just begun to unfold the rich promises which God has made to those who honour father and mother, when Jan of Ruffluck arose.

"There is some one standing outside the door who is afraid to come in," said Jan.

"Go see what the matter is, Börje," said the pastor. "You're nearest the door."

Börje rose at once, opened the door, and glanced up and down the entry.

"There's nobody out there," he replied. "Jan must have heard wrongly."

After this interruption the pastor proceeded to explain to his listeners that this commandment was not so much of a command as it was good counsel, which should be strictly followed if one wished to succeed in life. He was himself only a youth, but this much he had already observed: lack of respect toward parents and disobedience were at the bottom of many of life's misfortunes.

While the pastor was speaking Jan time and again turned his head toward the door and he motioned to Katrina, who was sitting on the last bench and could more easily get to the door than he could, to go open it.

Katrina kept her seat as long as she dared; but being a bit fearful of crossing Jan these days, she finally obeyed him. When she had got the door open, she, like Börje, saw no one in the entry. She shook her head at Jan and went back to her seat.

The pastor had not allowed himself to be disconcerted by Katrina's movements. To the great joy of all the young people, he had almost ceased putting questions and was voicing some of the beautiful thoughts that kept coming into his mind.

"Think how wisely and well things are ordered for the dear old people whom we have with us in our homes!" he said. "Is it not a blessing that we may be a stay and comfort to those who cared for us when we were helpless, to make life easy for those who perhaps have suffered hunger themselves that we might be fed? It is an honour for a young couple to have at the fireside an old father or mother, happy and content – "

When the pastor said that a smothered sob was heard from a corner of the room. Lars Gunnarson, who had been sitting with head devoutly bowed, arose at once. Crossing the floor on tiptoes, so as not to disturb the meeting, he went over to his mother-in-law, placed his arm around her, and led her up to the table. Seating her in his own chair, he stationed himself behind it and looked down at her with an air of solicitude; then he beckoned to his wife to come and stand beside him. Every one understood of course that Lars wanted them to think that in this home all was as the pastor had said it should be.

The minister looked pleased as he glanced up at the old mother and her children. The only thing that affected him a little unpleasantly was that the old woman wept all the while. He had never before succeeded in calling forth such deep emotion in any of his parishioners.

"It is not difficult to keep the Fourth Commandment when we are young and still under the rule of our parents," the pastor continued; "but the real test comes later, when we are grown and think ourselves quite as wise – "

Here the pastor was again interrupted. Jan had just risen and gone to the door himself. He seemed to have better luck than had Börje or Katrina: for he was heard to say "Go'-day" to somebody out in the entry.

Now every one turned to see who it was that had been standing outside all the evening, afraid to come in. They could hear Jan urging and imploring. Evidently the person wished to be excused, for presently Jan pulled the door to and stepped back into the room, alone. He did not return to his seat, but threaded his way up to the table.

"Well, Jan," said the pastor, somewhat impatient, "may we hear now who it is that has been disturbing us the whole evening?"

"It was the old master of Falla who stood out there," Jan replied, not in the least astonished or excited over what he had to impart. "He wouldn't come in, but he bade me tell Lars from him to beware the first Sunday after Midsummer Day."

At first not many understood what lay back of Jan's words. Those who sat in the last rows had not heard distinctly, but they inferred from the startled look on the pastor's face that Jan must have said something dreadful. They all sprang up and began to crowd nearer the table, asking to right and left who on earth he could have been talking to.

"But Jan!" said the pastor in a firm tone, "do you know what you are saying?"

"I do indeed," returned Jan with an emphatic nod. "As soon as he had given me the message for his son-in-law he went away. 'Tell him,' he said, 'that I wish him no ill for letting me lie in the snow in my agony and not coming to my aid in time; but the Fourth Commandment is a strict one. Tell him from me he'd better repent and confess. He will have until the Sunday after Midsummer to do it in.'"

Jan spoke so rationally and delivered his strange message with such sincerity that both the pastor and the others firmly believed at first that Eric of Falla had actually stood outside the door of his old home and talked with Jan. And naturally they all turned their eyes toward Lars Gunnarson to see what effect Jan's words had had on him.

Lars only laughed. "I thought Jan sane," he said, "or I shouldn't have let him come to the meeting. The pastor will have to pardon the interruption. It is the madness breaking out again."

"Why of course!" said the pastor, relieved. For he had been on the point of believing he had come upon something supernatural. It was well, he thought, that this was only the fancy of a lunatic.

"You see, Pastor," Lars went on explaining, "Jan has no great love for me, and it's plain now he hasn't the wit to conceal it. I must confess that in a sense I'm to blame for his daughter having to go away to earn money. It's this he holds against me."

The parson, a little surprised at Lars's eager tone, gave him a

searching glance. Lars did not meet that gaze, but looked away.

Perceiving his mistake, he tried to look the parson in the face.

Somehow he couldn't – so turned away, with an oath.

"Lars Gunnarson!" exclaimed the pastor in astonishment. "What has come over you?"

Lars immediately pulled himself together.

"Can't I be rid of this lunatic?" he said, as though Jan were the one he had sworn at. "Here stand the pastor and all my neighbours regarding me as a murderer only because a madman happens to hold a grudge against me! I tell you he wants to get back at me on account of his daughter. How could I know that she would leave home and go wrong simply because I wanted what was due me. Is there no one here who will take charge of Jan," he asked, "so that the rest of us may enjoy the service in peace?"

The pastor sat stroking his forehead. Lars's remarks troubled him; but he could not reprimand him when he had no positive proof that the man had committed a wrong. He looked around for the old mistress of Falla; but she had slipped away. Then he glanced out over the gathering, and from that quarter he got no help. He was confident that all in the room knew whether or not Lars was guilty, yet, when he turned to them, their faces looked quite blank. Meantime Katrina had come forward and taken Jan by the arm, and the two of them were then moving toward the door. Anyhow, the pastor had no desire to question a crazy man.

"I think this will do for to-night," he said quietly. "We will bring the meeting to a close." He made a short prayer, which was followed by a hymn. Whereupon the people went their ways.

The pastor was the last to leave. While Lars was seeing him to the gate he spoke quite voluntarily of that which had just taken place.

"Did you mark, Pastor, it was the Sunday after Midsummer Day I was to be on my guard?" he said. "That just shows it was the girl Jan had in mind. It was the Sunday after Midsummer of last year that I was over at Jan's place to have an understanding with him about the hut."

All these explanations only distressed the pastor the more. Of a sudden he put his hand on Lars's shoulder and tried to read his face.

"I'm not your judge, Lars Gunnarson," he said in warm, reassuring tones, "but if you have something on your conscience, you can come to me. I shall look for you every day. Only don't put it off too long!"

AN OLD TROLL

The second winter of the little girl's absence from home was an extremely severe one. By the middle of January it had grown so unbearably cold that snow had to be banked around all the little huts in the Ashdales as a protection against the elements, and every night the cows had to be covered with straw, to keep them from freezing to death.

It was so cold that the bread froze; the cheese froze, and even the butter turned to ice. The fire itself seemed unable to hold its warmth. It mattered not how many logs one laid in the fireplace, the heat spread no farther than to the edge of the hearth.

One day, when the winter was at its worst, Jan decided that instead of going out to his work he would stay at home and help Katrina keep the fire alive. Neither he nor the wife ventured outside the hut that day, and the longer they remained indoors the more they felt the cold. At five o'clock in the afternoon, when it began to grow dark, Katrina said they might as well "turn in"; it was no good their sitting up any longer, torturing themselves.

During the afternoon Jan had gone over to the window, time and again, and peered out through a little corner of a pane that had remained clear, though the rest of the glass was thickly crusted with frost flowers. And now he went back there again.

"You can go to bed, Katrina dear," he said as he stood looking out, "but I've got to stay up a while longer."

"Well I never!" ejaculated Katrina. "Why should you stay up? Why can't you go to bed as well as I?"

But Jan did not reply to her questions. "It's strange I haven't seen Agrippa Prästberg pass by yet," he said.

"Is it him you're waiting for!" snapped Katrina. "He hasn't been so extra nice to you that you need feel called upon to sit up and freeze on his account!"

Jan put up his hand with a sweep of authority – this being the only mannerism acquired during his emperorship which had not been dropped. There was no fear of Prästberg coming to them, he told her. He had heard that the old man had been invited to a drinking bout at a fisherman's but here in the Ashdales, but so far he had not seen him go by.

"I suppose he has had the good sense to stay at home," said Katrina.

It grew colder and colder. The corners of the house creaked as if the freezing wind were knocking to be let in. All the bushes and trees were covered with such thick coats of snow and rim frost they looked quite shapeless. But bushes and trees, like humans, had to clothe themselves as well as they could, in order to be protected against the cold.

In a little while Katrina observed: "I see by the clock it's only half after five, but all the same I'll put on the porridge pot and prepare the evening meal. After supper, you can sit up and wait for Prästberg or go to bed, whichever you like."

All this time Jan had stood at the window. "It can't be that he has come this way without my seeing him?" he said.

"Who cares whether a brute like him comes or doesn't come!" returned Katrina sharply, for she was tired of hearing about that old tramp.

Jan heaved a deep sigh. Katrina was more right than she herself knew. He did not care a bit whether or not old "Grippie" had passed. His saying that he was expected was merely an excuse for standing at the window.

No word or token had he received from the great Empress, the little girl of Ruffluck, since the day Lars wrested from him his majesty and glory. He felt that such a thing could never have happened without her sanction, and inferred from this that he had done something to incur her displeasure; but what he could not imagine! He had brooded over this all through the long winter evenings; through the long dark mornings, when threshing in the barn at Falla; through the short days, when carting wood from the big forest.

Everything had passed off so happily and well for him for three whole months, so of course he could not think she had been dissatisfied with his emperorship. He had then known a time such as he had never dreamed could come to a poor man like himself. But surely Glory Goldie was not offended at him for that!

No. He had done or said something which was displeasing to her, that was why he was being punished. But could it be that she was so slow to forget as never to forgive him? If she would only tell him what she was angry about! He would do anything he could to pacify her. She must see for herself how he had put on his working clothes and gone out as a day labourer as soon as she let him know that such was her wish.

He could not speak of this matter to either Katrina or the seine-maker. He would be patient and wait for some positive sign from Glory Goldie. Many times he had felt it to be so near that he had only to put out his hand and take it. That very day, shut in as he was, he had the feeling that there was a message from her on the way. This was why he stood peering out through the little clear corner of the window. He knew, also, that unless it came very soon he could not go on living.

It was so dark now that he could hardly see as far as the gate, and his hopes for that day were at an end. He had no objection to retiring at once, he said presently. Katrina dished out the porridge, the evening meal was hurridly eaten, and by a quarter after six they were abed.

They dropped off to sleep, too; but their slumbers were of short duration. The hands of the big Dalecarlian clock had barely got round to six-thirty when Jan sprang out of bed; he quickly freshened the fire, which was almost burned out, then proceeded to dress himself.

Jan tried to be as quiet as possible, but for all that Katrina was awakened; raising herself in bed she asked if it was already morning.

No, indeed it wasn't, but the little girl had called to Jan in a dream, and commanded him to go up to the forest.

Now it was Katrina's turn to sigh! It must be the madness come back, thought she. She had been expecting it every day for some little time, for Jan had been so depressed and restless of late.

She made no attempt to persuade him to stay at home, but got up, instead, and put on her clothes.

"Wait a minute!" she said, when Jan was at the door. "If you're going out into the woods to-night, then I want to go with you."

She feared Jan would raise objections, but he didn't; he remained at the door till she was ready. Though apparently anxious to be off, he seemed more controlled and rational than he had been all day.

And what a night to venture out into! The cold came against them like a rain of piercing and cutting glass-splinters. Their skins smarted and they felt as if their noses were being torn from their faces; their fingertips ached and their toes were as if they had been cut off; they hardly knew they had any toes.

Jan uttered no word of complaint, neither did Katrina; they just tramped on and on. Jan turned in on the winter-road across the heights, the one they had traversed with Glory Goldie one Christmas morning when she was so little she had to be carried.

There was a clear sky and in the west gleamed a pale crescent moon, so that the night was far from pitch dark. Still it was difficult to keep to the road because everything was so white with snow; time after time they wandered too close to the edge and sank deep into a drift. Nevertheless, they managed to make their way clear to the huge stone that had once been hurled by a giant at Svartsjö church. Jan had already got past it when Katrina, who was a little way behind him, gave a shriek.

"Jan!" she cried out. And Jan had not heard her sound so frightened since the day Lars threatened to take their home away from them. "Can't you see there's some one sitting here?"

Jan turned and went back to Katrina. And now the two of them came near taking to their heels; for, sure enough, propped against the stone and almost covered with rim frost sat a giant troll, with a bristly beard and a beak-like nose!

The troll, or whatever it was, sat quite motionless. It had become so paralyzed from the cold that it had not been able to get back to its cave, or wherever else it kept itself nowadays.

"Think that there really are such creatures after all!" said Katrina. "I should never have believed it, for all I've heard so much about them."

Jan was the first to recover his senses and to see what it was they had come upon.

"It's no troll, Katrina," he said. "It's Agrippa Prästberg."

"Sakes alive!" gasped Katrina. "You don't tell me! From the look of him he could easily be mistaken for a troll."

"He has just fallen asleep here," observed Jan. "He can't be dead, surely!"

They shouted the old man's name and shook him; but he never stirred.

"Run back for the sled, Katrina," said Jan, "so we can draw him home. I'll stay here and rub him with snow till he wakes up."

"Just so you don't freeze to death yourself!"

"My dear Katrina," laughed Jan, "I haven't felt as warm as I feel now in many a day. I'm so happy about the little girl! Wasn't it dear of her to send us out here to save the life of him who has gone around spreading so many lies about her?"

A week or two later, as Jan was returning from his work one evening, he met Agrippa Prästberg.

"I'm right and fit again," Agrippa told him. "But I know well enough that if you and Katrina had not come to the rescue there wouldn't have been much left of Johan Utter Agrippa Prästberg by now. So I've wondered what I could do for you in return."

"Oh, don't give that a thought my good Agrippa Prästberg!" said

Jan, with that upward imperial sweep of the hand.

"Hush now, while I tell you!" spoke Prästberg. "When I said I'd thought of doing you a return service, it wasn't just empty chatter. I meant it. And now it has already been done. The other day I ran across the travelling salesman who gave that lass of yours the red dress."

"Who?" cried Jan, so excited he could hardly get his breath.

"That blackguard who gave the girl the red dress and who afterward sent her to the devil in Stockholm. First I gave him, on your account, all the thrashing he could take, and then I told him that the next time he showed his face around here he'd get just as big a dose of the same kind of medicine."

Jan would not believe he had heard aright. "But what did he say?" he questioned eagerly. "Didn't you ask him about Glory Goldie? Had he no greetings from her?"

"What could he say? He took his punishment and held his tongue. Now

I've done you a decent turn, Jan Anderson, and we're even. Johan

Utter Agrippa Prästberg wants no unpaid scores."

With that he strode on, leaving Jan in the middle of the road, lamenting loudly. The little girl had wanted to send him a message! That merchant had come with greetings from her, but not a thing had he learned because the man had been driven away.

Jan stood wringing his hands. He did not weep, but he ached all over worse than if he were ill. He felt certain in his own mind that Glory Goldie had wanted Prästberg to take a message from her brought by the merchant and convey it to her father. But it was with Prästberg as with the trolls – whether they wanted to help or hinder they only wrought mischief.

THE SUNDAY AFTER MIDSUMMER

The first Sunday after Midsummer Day there was a grand party at the seine-maker's to which every one in the Ashdales had been invited. The old man and his daughter-in-law were in the habit of entertaining the whole countryside on this day of each year.

Folks wondered, of course, how two people who were so pitiably poor could afford to give a big feast, but to all who knew the whys and wherefores it seemed perfectly natural.

As a matter of fact, when the seine-maker was a rich man he gave his two sons a farmstead each. The elder son wasted his substance in much the same way as Ol' Bengtsa himself had done, and died poor. The younger son, who was the more steady and reliable, kept his portion and even increased it, so that now he was quite well-to-do. But what he owned at the present time was as nothing to what he might have had if his father had not recklessly made away with both money and lands, to no purpose whatever. If such wealth had only come into the hands of the son in his younger days, there is no telling to what he might have attained. He could have been owner of all the woodlands in the Lovsjö district, had a shop at Broby, and a steamer plying Lake Löven; he might even have been master of the ironworks at Ekeby. Naturally he found it difficult to excuse the father's careless business methods, but he kept his thoughts to himself.