Читать книгу The Old Room - Ewald Carl - Страница 9

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The fire in the hearth was nearly out and the candles had burnt quite low. It was quiet in the room and quiet outside.

Cordt sat in his chair. He had been sitting there long and had not stirred, only pondered, with his fingers buried in his hair, and listened for Fru Adelheid’s footsteps.

She was at home, had been at home the whole week. But she had not set foot in the room for the last fortnight.

Cordt looked at his watch. Then he rose and left the room, left the house.

A little later, Fru Adelheid came.

She remained standing at the door, surprised to find the room empty. She called to the balcony, but no one answered. Lingeringly, she went to the window and looked out. There was no one there.

She turned quickly to go. Then the thought came to her of what it had cost her to come up here; and she was annoyed that Cordt was not there. But that was only for a moment; then she was happy again at escaping the encounter. She felt in a lighter mood than she had for many days.

She looked about her curiously. She had never been alone in the room and she seemed not to have seen it properly before.

She stood long in front of the old chairs, lost in contemplation of the strange faces in the woodwork. She pushed them round the floor, placed them opposite each other and beside each other and sat down in them as though to try what it was like. She summoned up in her memory all that she knew about those who had sat in them and amused herself with imagining what one had said and the other.

Then she went to the celestial globe and looked at it. She pressed the spring, so that the stars ran and shone. She looked with delight at the queer plaything and, when the clockwork stopped, set it in motion again.

She pulled out the old spinning-wheel and sat down beside it and set it going. The wheel whirred lustily in the silent room and its whirring put Fru Adelheid in a very cheerful mood. She wished the great-grandmother would come in at the door and praise her for being so industrious.

She rose from the spinning-wheel and stood in the middle of the room and looked round. She thought of an occasion when she had stood in an Indian temple and reflected that she was examining these singular old things just as calmly as she had contemplated the Hindu sanctuary.

It seemed to her as though she were standing in a mortuary chapel, where old and interesting, but foolish ideas and preposterous superstitions stared at her from the sunken faces of mummies. She felt no terror, for she knew that all that was dead and gone and could never return.

Her eyes fell on the light stain on the wall, where the portrait had hung.

“Poor Fru Lykke!” she said, aloud. “You were shut out of the temple, because your husband deceived you.”

And she lifted her arms in the air in jubilant gladness that she was born in gentler times and still lived and felt the warm blood beating in her heart.

Fru Adelheid went round the room and laughed aloud to think how easily she had broken the spell of the old room. She patted the big chairs on their stiff backs and talked kindly to them. She used to hate them; her blood had turned to ice each time she sat in them. Now they were two handsome, valuable chairs and nothing more.

She had torn the veil from the Holy of Holies. There was nothing behind it.

She ran to the window and pulled the curtain aside with a jerk.

There sat the doll ... stiff and stupid.

She laid her face on its waxen cheek and kissed it with her red mouth.

Humming a tune, she sat down to the old spinet. She sought for a hymn that should celebrate her victory over the ghost.

But, when she struck the first notes, she suddenly grew frightened.

She had an uncomfortable feeling that there was some one in the room.

She sprang up, so that the chair upset, and looked around her.

There was no one.

The candles were all burnt out but one and it was dark in every corner. Now the last candle flickered up and struggled a little and went out.

And then there came a treacherous and threatening muttering and whispering all round the room.

People passed over the floor ... many and heavy footsteps. The spinning-wheel whirred, the spinet sang behind her back. The stars ran and shone, the doll rocked at her. The faces in the old chairs raised themselves on their long necks and pecked at her and grinned uncannily.

But the man who writhed through thorns called for help.... She could hear him call. He grew bigger ... he came nearer.... She saw the blood drip from his naked limbs....

Fru Adelheid crept to the door with quivering hands and fearful eyes.