Peter sat drawing his fingers through his rough hair and bent1 over his book. We all know that struggle against an incurable2 lack of concentration, the bending very closely over an unfortunate text until the letters begin to swell3 and jostle each other out of line and shamelessly vanish in the blue.
Peter lifted his head, puffing4 as if he had been under water and could no longer hold his breath. But it was not only the common, boyish instinct to throw all to the winds and rush out to the day’s adventures in the forest and field. It was not only the healthy restlessness of a growing boy that was reflected in his face. He turned and twisted on his chair and looked about him, and secretly cast stealthy side-glances from beneath his unkempt shock of hair as if fearing that somebody stood behind him listening to his thoughts.
Not even when he was alone could he look anything straight in the face.
Now he jumped up and took a turn round the old billiard table covered by an old torn dust sheet. All round him in the dilapidated room the torn wallpaper was curling and the dry paint was peeling off the skirting boards and window frames. Peter stopped a moment in front of a 27blackboard that had once been the billiard marker, but which was now covered with his unsolved algebra5 problems. He made a weak effort, but then he flung away the chalk as if it had burnt his fingers, and rushed suddenly to the window and peeped out.
Since Old H?k’s time the billiard room had been generally called the conservatory6. Its high, narrow fortress7-like windows faced three ways, and from this high point one could look out over the whole of the Selamb estate. On a stand made of three worn-out cues stood a long, battered8 leather-covered telescope. It was here that Peter’s grandfather used to sit and spy on his people in order mercilessly to sweep down on the idle or the dishonest. You could still see his old focus marks on the brass9 tube of the telescope, and they had crept further and further out as he grew older and more short sighted.
If anybody had seen Peter by the window overlooking the terrace he would have thought that Old H?k was not yet quite dead.
The bailiff was going to have a crayfish party for some friends from the town. He was standing10 down there hanging up Chinese lanterns. Frida, the new maid, was handing them to him out of a big clothes basket.
Peter found it impossible to remain any longer at his work. Silently as a mouse he stole out into the garden. He did not make straight for the terrace, but walked with long, searching side-glances till at last he settled on an observation post in the dense11 lilac hedge. Then he pretended to be carving12 a stick, but all the time he kept his eyes on the little lantern-scene. Brundin was standing in his shirt sleeves with a long cigar stuck in the corner of his mouth so as not to get the smoke in his eyes. He was a fair man with small, light, curly mustaches. He was wearing a check waistcoat, riding breeches and top boots. But even if he did not look like the Fairy Prince himself, he might at least have passed for one of the members of 28his suite13. For the moment he was carrying on with Frida, who made eyes and giggled14 as if he had tickled15 her.
Peter sat and fidgetted. There was a lot of questions that tormented16 him like insects. That Brundin fellow had no farm, so how could he be so awfully17 smart with his check waistcoat and heavy gold chain stretched across his vest? And his tie-pin was as big as a penny! And where had he got all those splendid lanterns. And why should Frida stand there and dance attendance on him and hand him the lanterns?
All Peter’s brooding and discontent found expression in that one question: why should our Frida stand there and hand lanterns to Brundin? And he had to gulp18 it down time after time lest it should escape his lips in a loud growl19.
No, he could not bear to look any longer.
With his eyes on the ground and his big hands hanging awkwardly by his sides Peter strolled round the yard and out into the fields. He lumbered20 about like a watch-dog, sniffing21 reflectively at every corner. Everywhere he scented22 decay. From his own father, who sat there heedless and inert23 on his bench by the front door, and who in the depth of his decay had no thought for anything else but his next meal, this ruin spread itself over garden, barn, stable and granary—and out over fields, meadows and forest. There were a thousand things that whispered of it, the weeds in the paths, the broken glass of the cucumber frames, the broken down, moss-covered fences, bottomless patches of road, bare neglected forest slopes. There were a thousand things Peter would have liked to ask Brundin about, but when he met him smart and resplendent with a big cigar in the corner of his mouth, a kind of paralysis24 of fear overtook him. Not with red-hot tongs25 could one have dragged a straightforward27, direct question out of the boy—and that even though the bailiff had never uttered an unkind word to him, but on 29the contrary had cracked good-natured jokes with him and had offered him good things from town which Peter had grabbed clumsily and disappeared with, like a dog who is afraid of a thrashing.
The labourers on the estate were the only ones with whom Peter could talk on the subject. Obeying the instinct of a sort of subordinate, the future heir pried28 about for signs of discontent, for hints and suggestions. But he had little success. It was of importance that he should be very careful. He turned his questions over and over again in his mind before they passed his lips. In his timidity and excess of carefulness he began to beat about the bush so much that often he never reached his point at all. Those who asked for nothing better than to speak the truth about the bailiff did not understand what he was driving at. And cleverer ones and those with a bad conscience saw through him in their own way, and thought it best to beware of this sneaking29, spying nuisance of a boy and not to criticise30 those in authority.
Down in the bend of the avenue Peter met Anders, who was driving home with a load of rye from the H?kar meadow. The boy climbed up in the rye beside the old stable hand, but he did not think how jolly it was to lie softly like this among the sheaves glowing with blue cornflowers and to swing gently along in the half-light under the old elms. Today his restlessness was worse than ever, and he grew quite bold of speech.
“How much is a load like this worth, Anders?”
“Oh, it’s worth a good deal of money. And it would fetch more if it wasn’t for the weeds.”
“Who takes care of the money?”
“The bailiff, of course.”
“But Anders, when they pay him the money, how can he know what is ours and what is his?”
“Well, Master Peter, the bailiff keeps his books.”
30“But supposing somebody went and wrote something wrong in his books?”
“No, they can’t, for he keeps his books locked up, you see.”
“But suppose he should forget to write something in the books?”
“It is his chief work to write down everything in the books,” he muttered with a side-glance.
Thus Peter helped to drive in the rye. They had reached the barn now and he jumped down no wiser than before. The cracked old gong rang for dinner, and it sounded like a funeral bell.
The dining-room smelt32 of “sluring,” a soup which was the abomination of all the children. They pushed the chairs about, kicked each other’s legs, and quarrelled because nobody wanted to sit next to father, who was horrid33 at table. They were just like a lot of crows on a branch at night time, pecking at each other because none wants to sit furthest out on the branch, in the darkness and emptiness. Finally Tord was pushed there, he was the smallest and weakest. Frida flung down the soup. It was worse than ever. There had probably been no time for cooking because of the preparations for the evening party. Peter shrank and held his hands to his ears so as not to hear his father eating his soup. There came a queer smell from the neighbourhood of Tord, who did not touch his food but pulled out a dirty handkerchief full of snakes’ eggs which he had found in the manure34 heap. Stellan waited upon his father. When he had lapped up his soup, the young man was there in a flash with his own full plate the contents of which disappeared just as quickly. Laura’s plate went the same way. Those two always adopted the same strategy. But Peter and Hedvig did their duty. There were bread fritters to follow. Old Kristin came in. Nowadays, 31there was not much left of her. Usually she sat in her little room mumbling35 as she knitted. But she still retained her power over Tord, so he had to sit there with his soup. He could be shut up with his plate for ever so long without uttering a sound. He was a strange, silent child, Tord.
Still hungry and out of humour Peter crept down into the garden and stole whatever he could find to eat there.
Then the steamer arrived with Brundin’s guests. There were corn dealers36, greengrocers, and butchers from the town, nothing but rogues37 that he did business with. They at once sat down to smoke and drink punch at a long table on the terrace. From the beginning there were heard shouts of coarse, bass38 voices and roars of laughter, and it was clear that they had laid a solid foundation for their merriment in some inn in town. Frida, fresh and not at all shy, in spite of her seventeen years, flitted about the whole time bearing trays frequently replenished39 and was vigorously pinched, tickled and caressed40. But in the midst of all shone Brundin in his check waistcoat, and whenever you looked at him he sat with glass uplifted and “Your health” on his lips.
Peter hovered41 about, gloomy and unnoticed, on the fringe of this festive42 party. He loitered about the bedroom window, he crept into the lilac hedge. In the end he secured himself up among the branches of the big maple43 tree below the signal-guns on the terrace. From there he saw them light the gay-coloured lanterns and bring in the enormous dishes of crayfish, with their fennel crowns to the accompaniment of wild shouts of welcome. The lanterns swung to and fro and the candles in the big candlesticks from off the sideboard flickered44 and flamed as if intoxicated45, and cast a shimmering46 light on napkins tied round fat necks, on rolled-up shirt sleeves and rows of sparkling glasses simultaneously47 raised.
To crown all Peter saw how Stellan and Laura who had been leaping round with eager and unrestrained curiosity 32amongst the merry guests were called by the bailiff, and how each was given a big portion of crayfish to eat at the table. Breathlessly Peter held fast to his branch and communed with the whispering gloom of the great, dark tree top.
Then an old fellow rose and thanked the host. He fumbled48 with his wine glass and now and then squeezed out a word, just as if he had been on the point of suffocation49 before he got it out. And his shadow, ragged26 and giantlike, mounted the loosening plaster of the walls of Selambshof.
“Kalle Brundin,” he shouted, “Kalle Brundin! All here present join with me! And what do we join in? We join in the belief that this has been a damned fine party. Damned jolly to see you out here in your old Selambshof! Thank you, Kalle Brundin! A fourfold hurrah50 for Kalle Brundin and his Selambshof. May he live long: hip51, hip, hurrah!”
In reply Kalle Brundin pointed52 with an elegant gesture to the landing stage and the steamer. And instantly the whole company stumbled towards it, so that the table was deserted53.
Sssh! Bang! there went the first rocket. And then came cracking grasshoppers54 and divers55 that fizzed and spluttered in the water, and golden rains that vomited56 sparks round the gate posts, and bright Roman candles, and then rockets again and crackers57 and starlights.
Peter slipped down out of the tree. This was too much. He shrank as if the sparks had rained in his eyes. What was it that sparkled and cracked but Brundin’s arrogance58. This abominable59 Brundin filled the skies with his violent, sneering60, exultant61 pride.
But amidst the smell of powder there came some odours from the table and then it struck Peter that Brundin for the moment was not guarding his interests on the terrace. In a trice Peter was there. Like a frightened, thieving dog 33he gulped62 down pieces of meat, cake and whatever was left in the wine glasses. He had not time to taste anything properly and half choked himself, but somehow it did him good all the same. It was as if he had stolen back a little of his own, and with a somewhat easier mind he stole away into the darkness again.
The fireworks were over and the guests stumbled back to their punch glasses again. But now it seemed as if the last remnants of their dignity had vanished with the rockets. Some fell down on the chairs as if their legs had been struck off beneath them. And some stood with their arms round each others’ necks, panting, as if they would drown each other in friendship. And others were quarrelling with raised voices that were lost among the shy shadows of the still August night. But Brundin sat there unperturbed and contented63 in the midst of the noise, like the devil at a horsefair, smiling with half-closed eyes and puffing at his cigar.
Then Peter heard somebody come stamping out on the kitchen stairs where he was sitting. It was old Kristin. In the light of the lanterns which now caught fire and flared64 up one after the other she raised her trembling, bony arms like two withered65 branches. And she muttered a long string of reproaches and threats against the impious bailiff and his inhuman66 company. When she caught sight of Peter her voice, which seemed to have been worn down to a pale, feeble thread by all the unhappiness and misery67 of this world, broke and putting her cold, withered hand on his head, she said: “You poor orphan68 children! We all know what happens to them. You will never grow up to sit at Selambshof. No. No!”
Thereupon old Kristin stumped69 in again. But Peter felt the chill of that withered, trembling hand through his whole body right down to his toes.
Then Frida came carrying a tray of empty glasses, pursued by panting and shouting figures, which let fall coins in the pockets of her apron70 and in her hair and down her 34plump neck inside her cotton blouse. But she looked over their shoulders at Brundin, who was standing by the corner of his wing of the house making some mysterious signs.
Then the whole company broke up and returned home by land and down the avenue the babel of voices gradually disappeared.
Peter was just going to bed. He did not light the lamp, but sat for a moment balanced on the edge of the bed and listening to Stellan’s breathing beside him. Then he crept to the window again.
All was dark and silent. Only from a chink in a blind in the bailiff’s wing a narrow streak71 of light cut the darkness. Over the dusky house there hung the witchery of an unknown fear. As Peter stared out he seemed to see a shadow cross the yard and disappear under the lime tree by Brundin’s porch. Peter stole quietly down the stairs again. The sky had clouded over and it had become strangely oppressive. There was soughing and whispering in the darkness. Peter walked on the edge of the grass so that the gravel72 should not crunch73 beneath his feet. In the sweet smell under the lime tree he suddenly struck against something soft, and heard a low, frightened cry.
It was Hedvig, his sister. He had not seen her the whole evening. He pinched her arm:
“What are you doing here, girl?”
Hedvig was breathing heavily. Through the darkness he could almost see how pale she was.
“Frida!” It escaped her in a whisper, and she pointed to a window that stood open where the blind was drawn74: “There, there!”
Peter put his arm round her waist in order to pass her on the narrow grass edge. She was trembling and she seemed in a cold sweat, blended of shame, curiosity and disgust.
She gave a start as if he had struck her and ran in. But 35Peter stepped noiselessly up to the open window. There was light inside and he heard the sound of chairs being moved, giggles76 and whispering. But it was impossible to see anything. He carefully pushed aside the blind a little with a pencil.
Between a box in the window and the corner of a yellow wardrobe he could catch a glimpse over the end of the bed of some curls of brown hair and a big, dark hand that pressed against something soft and white.
Peter wanted to lift the blind higher but then a bottle on the window-sill tipped over and an arm was stretched out and put out the lamp.
Now he lies stretched out on his bed, staring into the darkness. He lies as still as a terrified insect feigning78 death.
Fancy that it was Frida—the Frida who brought in his shoes and clothes in the morning!
Hitherto when Peter had looked at the girl he felt a certain uneasiness in her presence—an uneasiness which found expression chiefly in giggles and rudeness. But nothing in the world would have induced him to touch her.
But Brundin dared! For him nothing was forbidden and nothing dangerous. He did everything he liked.
The darkness became oppressive round the poor boy, he suddenly felt the girl in his inmost being, in the very marrow80 of his bone. But not her alone, that was the horror of it! This man whom he dreaded81, his pet horror was also there. His feelings were a strange mixture of shame, lust82, fear, powerlessness, loneliness and grief. The very springs of life were diverted and unclean from the beginning. Even his first dreams of awakening83 were sullied by anxiety, and by cowardly, curious hate.
The more tired Peter became the more distinctly did he 36feel how the chill of old Kristin’s hand passed through his body. And Frida dissolved and disappeared. But Brundin remained. He pursued Peter deep into the night’s sleep.
His sleep was like that of one in a besieged84 fortress, where one hears the shots shattering bit by bit the walls that save one from destruction.
Yes, this was the story of Peter the Watch-dog.
We must not forget that this thin and anxious figure was the embryo85 of the future coarse and brutal86 Peter the Boss.
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1
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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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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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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4
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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algebra
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| n.代数学 | |
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conservatory
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| n.温室，音乐学院；adj.保存性的，有保存力的 | |
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fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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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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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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14
giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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16
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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18
gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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19
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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20
lumbered
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| 砍伐（lumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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22
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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23
inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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paralysis
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| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
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tongs
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| n.钳；夹子 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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straightforward
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| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
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pried
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| v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的过去式和过去分词 )；撬开 | |
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29
sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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30
criticise
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| v.批评，评论；非难 | |
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entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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32
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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33
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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manure
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| n.粪，肥，肥粒；vt.施肥 | |
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35
mumbling
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
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dealers
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| n.商人( dealer的名词复数 )；贩毒者；毒品贩子；发牌者 | |
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37
rogues
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| n.流氓( rogue的名词复数 )；无赖；调皮捣蛋的人；离群的野兽 | |
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38
bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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replenished
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| 补充( replenish的过去式和过去分词 )； 重新装满 | |
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caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
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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42
festive
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| adj.欢宴的，节日的 | |
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43
maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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44
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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46
shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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47
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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48
fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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49
suffocation
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| n.窒息 | |
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50
hurrah
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| int.好哇，万岁，乌拉 | |
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51
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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52
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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53
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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54
grasshoppers
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| n.蚱蜢( grasshopper的名词复数 )；蝗虫；蚂蚱；（孩子）矮小的 | |
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55
divers
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| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
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56
vomited
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57
crackers
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| adj.精神错乱的，癫狂的n.爆竹( cracker的名词复数 )；薄脆饼干；（认为）十分愉快的事；迷人的姑娘 | |
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58
arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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59
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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66
inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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69
stumped
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| 僵直地行走，跺步行走( stump的过去式和过去分词 )； 把（某人）难住； 使为难； （选举前）在某一地区作政治性巡回演说 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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crunch
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| n.关键时刻；艰难局面；v.发出碎裂声 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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giggles
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| n.咯咯的笑( giggle的名词复数 )；傻笑；玩笑；the giggles 止不住的格格笑v.咯咯地笑( giggle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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feigning
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| 假装，伪装( feign的现在分词 )； 捏造（借口、理由等） | |
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impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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82
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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besieged
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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embryo
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| n.胚胎，萌芽的事物 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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