But in the garden on the north side of the house Oskar Selamb was sitting in his usual seat. He was sitting just where the mosses3 of the walls hung most heavily over the grey stone base and where the damp shade beneath the old elm tree seemed full of evil memories. His big straw hat was pushed far back on his head and his purple trembling hands were clasped round the handle of his walking stick. His beard grew like a weed round his weak half open mouth, and he stared in front of him with a lifeless, taciturn gloom that had little human left in it.
A friend of former days would scarcely have recognized him.
How had Oskar Selamb, owner of Selambshof, father of five young children, and not much past fifty, come to such a pass? The immediate4 cause was probably the death of his wife, but in order really to understand this tragedy one must go back to the tyranny of old Enoch. It was he who had broken his son’s spirit. Up to his thirtieth year Oskar had been little more than a sort of superior farm labourer on the estate, without any rights, without a will of his own, reviled5 and ill-treated by Old H?k, who kept his claws and his beak6 sharp till the end. It leaves a mark on a man to have his hopes in life picked piece by piece out of his breast by a father who feeds his own strong flame of 19life by doing so. When the hour of delivery once struck at last, Oskar Selamb had come to hate his inheritance. Yes, he hated this place of humiliation7, for ever haunted by the old man’s shadow. But he had not strength to throw it all off and begin afresh. He merely absented himself as much as possible and let the estate go to ruin. And late in life he married a servant girl, whom he had raised to the rank of housekeeper8 at Selambshof. His friends were not surprised by this mesalliance. Even during the days of his humiliation he had been fond of the girl, for which reason of course she had at once been shown the door. And when Oskar afterwards by chance caught sight of her behind a bar, he took her into his house and married her, out of pure spite, as people said, in order to make old Enoch turn in his grave. To tell the truth, he was not in love with her. It was rather the spasmodic effort of a weak and vacillating man to kick away the past. His wife was a small, dark, thin woman with a pointed9 nose, and moderately capable and energetic within her domain10. Her voice penetrated11 shrill12 and alert through the fumes13 of the kitchen or the washtub. She remained a bad-tempered14 but capable servant of her husband and, later, of the children. But for her the home would not have held together as well as it did, for Oskar Selamb became more and more incapable15 of looking after anything. And he still spent most of his time in the town. There he sat among his fellow topers, lost at whist and in business, cursed and harangued16, as weak people do, between his draughts17 of steaming toddy, on the evils of the times. Meanwhile Selambshof decayed, Ryssvik was lost, the forest melted away and the mortgages became heavier and heavier. His wife bore him in quick succession and with eternal lamentations, five hungry and crying children. With the sixth she succumbed18 herself. When her husband came driving home that autumn morning she already lay dead in the big double bed.
20Oskar Selamb had never loved his wife. He had neglected her, treated her brutally19, and worn her out. But all the same her death gave him the finishing blow. It was her scolding that had kept him going. Now he sank irrevocably. His journeys to town grew more frequent then ever. Meaner and meaner grew the bars outside which his shabby old coach had to wait till late into the night. He could not even keep himself decent. Old friends avoided him, whilst discussing with interest whether it was from joy of getting rid of his wife or from grief at losing her that he was drinking himself to death.
The more subtle held that it was a combination of these two feelings. The only one who tried to do something for his friend Oskar was his neighbour and companion from childhood, William Hermansson, owner of the Ekbacken sawmill and shipyard. As it happened the Ekbacken establishment was situated20 just by the main road into town, and when, nowadays, William saw Oskar’s dreary21 looking coach, he stepped out on to his front-door step and admonished22 his old friend in carefully chosen words. He tried in every way to tempt23 him to decent intercourse24 in his respectable and comfortable widower’s home, reminding him of the times when he had found a refuge there from old Enoch’s tyranny. But Oskar always drove past with some vague pretext25 of important meetings and urgent business.
Within a few months the crash came. Oskar Selamb was brought home a pitiful wreck26 after having had a stroke at a miserable27 little inn in the slums. After several months he got up from his sickbed, bloated, with unsteady hands, and no memory, scarcely a human being any more. But still there was no sign that death would mercifully do its work. After solemn lamentations, the owner of Ekbacken agreed to become the guardian28 of the children, and through his efforts a new bailiff, named John Brundin, was appointed.
That is how things had been for more than two years at 21Selambshof. Thus on the still summer evening we have described Oskar Selamb sat on his usual seat underneath29 the old elm. He sat there so motionless that the sparrows hopped30 about in front of him on the round stone slab31 superposed on an enormous oak stump32 which did service as a table. But out there in the slanting33 golden rays of the sun, round the wing where the bailiff lived, shimmered34 clouds of gnats35 and fine spiders’ webs.
Stellan and Laura were playing in the sand and in the lilac hedge in front of the house. The simple games of robbers of former days were now a thing of the past. They wore a bright array of feathers, and carried bows and tomahawks. They had read Cooper and Marryat and knew how to choose impressive names and make subtle stratagems36. The hedge was also dense37 and deep, with fine ambushes38 and splendid hiding places for stealthy Indian warfare39. Stellan was called “Black Panther” and Laura “Flying Arrow.” Don’t imagine that she was allowed to impersonate some pale squaw with a soft flower name. No, she was a young warrior40 on her first warpath. “Black Panther’s” voice sounded sharp and commanding when he was teaching his young companions the use of the bow. “Flying Arrow” had displayed some squeamishness and had giggled41 in an unwarriorlike manner, which was not in keeping with the seriousness of the moment, and which was duly corrected.
Peter was looking on. Big and clumsy in his outgrown42 and patched sailor’s suit, he leant against a rusty43 rainpipe grinning provocatively44. “Black Panther” ran up to him.
“Won’t you come and play with us and be a Pale-Face?”
“No,” came Peter’s sulky reply in a husky voice, about to break—
“Black Panther” looked round about him wondering how to get some new excitement into the game, as it was beginning to become dull. His glance fell with a sudden expression of premature45 and hopeless loathing46 on his father on the 22seat. But just as suddenly he brightened up—caught hold of “Flying Arrow” by the arm and pointed at the old man:
“He is a Comanche. He is ‘Heavy Ox.’ We’ll creep up to him from two sides.”
“Black Panther” and “Flying Arrow” crept across the plot of sand with sly, watchful47 eyes. Then “Black Panther” sprang up like a steel spring released and swung his lasso. “Heavy Ox” was caught. They tied him to the seat as to a torture post. “Heavy Ox” did not seem to notice anything. From behind, “Black Panther” even managed to put on his head a chieftain’s feather crown consisting of some crow’s feathers pushed into the ribbon of an old, brimless, tattered48 straw hat. But “Heavy Ox” sat there with his new and wonderful ornament49 as solemnly and as apathetically50 unconcerned as ever.
Shrill laughter from “Flying Arrow” greeted this ridiculous apparition51.
They began to dance round their victim. Swinging their tomahawks and their bows, they danced to the accompaniment of wild cries of excitement.
“‘Heavy Ox’ can’t get free! ‘Heavy Ox’ is fat and stupid! ‘Heavy Ox’ shall die. ‘Heavy Ox’ is fat and stupid!”
This sudden wild joy quite surprised the Crow Indians themselves. They perhaps did not know that there was vengeance52 in this game. And how much had they not to avenge53! How well they might have called out to “Heavy Ox”: “That is for the hundreds of meals that were made disgusting by your nasty snuffling! That’s for your horrid54 snuffle and for your dull eyes that don’t see us! That’s for the neglect, the ruin, the incurable55 wounds to our tender beings! That’s for the great musty hole in which we spend our childhood.”
Tired of dancing they sat down to smoke a calumet, whilst still deriding56 and challenging their bound enemy.
“Heavy Ox” had taken no more notice of his tormentors 23than of the flies that buzzed around him. But now he showed signs of restlessness. And his restlessness was always of the same kind:
“‘Heavy Ox’ shan’t get any food. ‘Heavy Ox’ is fat and stupid. ‘Heavy Ox’ shall die! ‘Heavy Ox’ is fat and stupid!”
Peter was still leaning against the rainpipe. He followed the game with a half troubled, half pleased, grin. “They will catch it for this,” he thought. “I have not taken part in it. I have been standing60 here the whole time by the rainpipe and have not taken any part in it.”
Then Peter saw Mr. Brundin thrust his head out of a window. It was beginning to get exciting. The punishment for these reckless children was drawing nearer. But Peter was at once disillusioned61. Brundin only laughed and puffed62 at a big cigar. And Peter made a note in his memory that Brundin only grinned at forbidden and dangerous things.
Then at last something happened. Old Hermansson came walking up the avenue. And instantly Brundin’s head disappeared from the window. But “Black Panther” and “Flying Arrow” noticed nothing. Old Hermansson walked quietly across the sand plot. He was as straight-backed as if he had been drawn63 on a slate64 by a good boy. He walked with his coat buttoned high up to the throat, his head erect65, and his hands behind his back. He walked with measured dignity and each step seemed to be an admonition to the careless, the irreverent and the reckless. One can scarcely imagine anything more typical to children of the grown-up.
Peter stood still with excitement and bit his nails. This was really a great moment.
Then Mr. Brundin came rushing out of the door. He had 24put aside the big cigar and hastened with every mark of respect to free “Heavy Ox” from his bonds, whilst with serious and angry mien66 he shook his fist at the two Indians.
This was something more for Peter to note: a moment ago Brundin had only grinned and now he became serious when old Hermansson was present.
At last old Hermansson had arrived. Now at last somebody would be cuffed67. But Peter had to wait. Old Hermansson first saw that the unsuitable ornament was removed from his old friend’s head. Then he greeted him, obstinately68 maintaining the habit of speech of past and happier days.
“How do you do, how do you do, my dear Oskar? I hope you are well. Yes, it is a fine day today, a very fine day. So I thought I would take a little walk in order to talk to our good bailiff about the rye-crop.”
Oskar Selamb had recovered his greasy69 old hat again. But he was clearly completely insensible to these see-saws of exultation and degradation70. He stared sulkily in front of him and grunted71:
“I want my supper—can’t I have my supper?”
“In due time, my dear Oskar. In due time you will certainly have your supper.”
Now it seemed to be Stellan’s and Laura’s turn. Their guardian placed himself in front of them and made a little speech:
“Listen carefully now, my children,” he said. “I don’t want to see you show your father such disrespect again. Honour thy father and mother that thy days may be long in the land and that it may go well with you.”
Here he shook his head solemnly and let the culprits go. And the fair and plump little Laura danced away with small side steps like a puppy, but not before she had cast a coquettish and triumphant72 glance at Peter in passing, as if to say,—“Cheated!—there was no thrashing!”
But Stellan stood there with all his war-like array in his 25hand and with an air of disillusionment looked at “Heavy Ox,” who was no longer “Heavy Ox,” but only the familiar dismal73 figure. Then he lightly shrugged74 his shoulders and quietly went away whistling among the currant bushes. With his quick cold eyes and his proud mouth he did not exactly look like one of those who fare badly in this world.
It may be that old Hermansson was also somewhat mistaken. It may be that callousness75 developed early in life may be one of the conditions of success in this world. It may be that daily and hourly contact with degraded humanity simply hardens a little Indian’s heart for life’s cruel warfare.
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1
swarms
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| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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mosses
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| n. 藓类, 苔藓植物 名词moss的复数形式 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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reviled
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| v.辱骂，痛斥( revile的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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bad-tempered
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| adj.脾气坏的 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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harangued
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| v.高谈阔论( harangue的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17
draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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18
succumbed
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| 不再抵抗（诱惑、疾病、攻击等）( succumb的过去式和过去分词 )； 屈从； 被压垮； 死 | |
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19
brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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20
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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21
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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22
admonished
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| v.劝告( admonish的过去式和过去分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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23
tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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27
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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30
hopped
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| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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31
slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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shimmered
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35
gnats
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| n.叮人小虫( gnat的名词复数 ) | |
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stratagems
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| n.诡计，计谋( stratagem的名词复数 )；花招 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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38
ambushes
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| n.埋伏( ambush的名词复数 )；伏击；埋伏着的人；设埋伏点v.埋伏( ambush的第三人称单数 )；埋伏着 | |
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39
warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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41
giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
outgrown
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| 长[发展] 得超过（某物）的范围( outgrow的过去分词 )； 长[发展]得不能再要（某物）； 长得比…快； 生长速度超过 | |
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43
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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44
provocatively
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45
premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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46
loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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47
watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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48
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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49
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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50
apathetically
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| adv.不露感情地；无动于衷地；不感兴趣地；冷淡地 | |
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51
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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52
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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53
avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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54
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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55
incurable
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| adj.不能医治的，不能矫正的，无救的；n.不治的病人，无救的人 | |
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56
deriding
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| v.取笑，嘲笑( deride的现在分词 ) | |
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57
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
renewal
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| adj.(契约)延期，续订，更新，复活，重来 | |
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exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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61
disillusioned
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| a.不再抱幻想的，大失所望的，幻想破灭的 | |
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62
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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63
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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64
slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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67
cuffed
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| v.掌打，拳打( cuff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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71
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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72
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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74
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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75
callousness
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