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As for the masonry work, we could break out our stone on the site itself; there was layer on layer of granite there. By noon next day we were hard at work, Lars Falkenberg digging the trench for the pipe-line, Grindhusen and I getting stone. We were both well used to this work from the days when we had been road-making together at Skreia. Well and good. We worked four days; then it was Sunday.
Then I managed to say I couldn't help it now; in God's name, go away! And, Our Father which art in heaven.... The corpse came straight towards me; I thrust out two clenched fists and gave an icy shriek and there I was, crushing Falkenberg flat against the wall. "What is it?" cried Falkenberg. "In Heaven's name...."
They were creeping towards him now from all corners of the room an ugly-looking set of men, men with an ugly purpose in their faces. "Yes, I am Falkenberg!" he cried. "I am here to spy upon you, if you will. Why not? Kill me, if you choose, but I warn you that if you do the whole of Germany will rise against you and your cause." "Don't let him escape!" some one shouted from the platform.
"At any rate, they speak nicely of each other to us," I said. Falkenberg went on with his work. I thought over the whole thing again. "Well, perhaps you may be right as far as that goes, that it's not the wedded life dreamers have dreamed of, still...." But it was no good talking to Falkenberg in that style; he understood never a word. When we stopped work at noon, I took up the talk again.
I drink a good deal and that helps; at last, she really seems to fancy I am making myself agreeable to her on her own account. She looks at me curiously. "No, really, though, do you think I'm nice?" "Oh, please don't you understand? I was speaking of Fru Falkenberg." "Sh!" says Froken Elisabeth.
The daughter of the house was away for the moment, but the work could be done in her absence as a little surprise for her when she came home. She had often complained that the piano was so dreadfully out of tune it was impossible to play on it at all. So now I was left to myself again as before, while Falkenberg was busy in the parlour. When it got dark he had lights brought in and went on tuning.
"I'm not going to leave your side till we're through with this little job." "Madame Christophor suggested that I should go there and finish," Julien said. "What do you think of that?" "Madame Fiddlesticks!" Kendricks retorted angrily. "The wife of Falkenberg! Do you want to walk into the lion's jaws?" "She is separated from her husband," Julien reminded him.
The wagon now moved slowly on, and the village cart followed. Mr. Tippengray would gladly have dropped a good deal behind, but he found this not practicable, because whenever he made Hammerstein walk Stolzenfels and Falkenberg also walked.
"They won't ask about that if you're called to do it. Maybe she won't care about having a thumb one place and a thumbnail in another." But I was brave enough now; a very desperado in the daylight. I laughed at Falkenberg for his superstition, and told him science had disposed of all such nonsense long ago.
"Why, yes, in a way," said Falkenberg, a little awkwardly, "My name is Lars Falkenberg, and I've my certificate to show for that." "What part d'you come from?" "From Trondelagen." The Captain went home. He was friendly enough, but spoke in a short, decisive way, with never a smile or a jesting word. A good face, something ordinary.
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