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Updated: May 7, 2025
Yet, withal, putting cut aside, allowing the fact that Henri, dressed as he was now, looked tall and strong and active and upright, and quite martial too, armed with a rifle, one had to admit that there was a huge difference between the Henri of that moment and the dapper, elegant, well-groomed Henri of twenty months before a Henri who in London or Paris might quite fairly have been termed a "knut".
But I think Knut knew the value of a good steel weapon too well to give that away, for we read in another book that such an axe once owned by him was handed down till Harold of England owned it, and with it he cut to pieces a suit of armour hung on a post, by way of showing his strength to the King whose guest or prisoner he was for at the time he was a little of both.
Olaf by diligent quest and spy-messaging, had ascertained that Hakon, just returning from Denmark and farewell to Papa and Knut, both now under way for England, was coasting north towards Trondhjem; and intended on or about such a day to land in such and such a fjord towards the end of this Trondhjem voyage.
A dozen voices shouted "Yea!" in as many different ways. The King looked at them steadily for a moment, then with a half-smile waved his hand to his throne from which he had arisen, and said, "Carry me that to the shore, and do thou attend." It was low tide, but the young flood had begun to come in, and when the throne was placed well out toward the water, Knut seated himself and said,
Knut, to the deep disappointment, which had to keep itself silent, of three or four chief Norway men, named none of these three or four Jarl of Norway; but bethought him of a certain Svein, a bastard son of his own, who, and almost still more his English mother, much desired a career in the world fitter for him, thought they indignantly, than that of captain over Jomsburg, where alone the father had been able to provide for him hitherto.
They were awakened by voices. "It's men!" whispered Otto, clutching Knut's arm in terror. "Oh, why did we ever run away! They'll be sure to find us!" "Be quiet, Otto," muttered Knut. "Do you want them to hear? Lie still, and I'll think of some way to escape." "Are you sure this is the right tree?" said a man's voice. "Don't you see the mark?" asked another.
It does not need any showing of paper, however, to establish the identity of Knut Pedersen, vagabond, with the author of Pan. "Indian summer, mild and warm ... it is many years now since I knew such peace. Twenty or thirty years maybe or maybe it was in another life.
Knut did not interfere with other people's ways, so this caused no trouble between them. He lived with his "set," and his wife saw to their entertainment, which was, however, modest enough, for he was too prudent a man to make unnecessary show or outlay of any kind.
He didn't care a rap what people said, and every single year he proposed to me, always on New Year's Day. He came that year too, and now that Knut was dead, I couldn't have done better than have taken him and been mistress of a farm; but I had to refuse him after all, and I can tell you it was hard when I made the discovery.
She concealed her thoughts, but when she got home to her own dear Knut, she told him how things stood at Tingvold, and added: "Our place is there now. Little Mildrid needs some one that dares to love her; pretty, sweet little child that she is!" Knut was infected by her eagerness, and the two old people packed up and went home.
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