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"No but I wanted to do something, to make some sacrifice for your sake." She was silent for a moment, then her eyes brightened once more. "Olof, now I know! I'll cut off one of the prettiest locks of my hair and you shall keep it for remembrance that's what people do, isn't it? And you must keep it always and think of me sometimes, even when you love someone else." "Oh, my love!
I have longed for you so more than I can ever say; I wonder how I have been able to live at all. Olof, Olof, do not look at me! I have only come to whisper a little in your ear.... I have had such dreadful thoughts.
Besides, said Olof, 'she has looked out a match for you; she has a brother in the Underworld, a three-headed Giant, whom she means to turn into a beautiful prince and get him married to you. This is no new thing for the Queen; she took me away from my parents' house and compelled me to serve her; but she has never done me any harm, for the green cloak I wear protects me against all mischief.
Olof would have stopped her, but she was out of the door in a moment. He rose to his feet, his head was throbbing, and he could hardly stand. "Here you are here's the beauty!" A bright-eyed girl, young and slightly built, stood in the doorway smiling. Olof started as if he had seen a ghost, the blood seemed to stand still in his veins; a cold weight seemed crushing him like an iceberg.
But do you know I should so like to see her, your mother, that...." "That...?" "Only ... only, I should like to see her so. Then I'd put my arms round her neck and ... Olof, did your mother often kiss you?" "No. Not often." "But she stroked your hair, and often talked with you all alone, I know." "Yes ... yes."
She gazed long and searchingly at her son's haggard chin, his sunken cheeks and loose eyelids, the pale forehead, the furrowed temples everything. "Perhaps it has to be," she murmured, as if speaking to someone else. "'And wasted all his substance.... And he said, I will arise and...." Her voice trembled, and Olof, in a hasty glance, saw how her wrinkled mouth quivered with emotion.
A dark flush burned in his cheeks as he approached the group; he glanced about him guardedly under his brows. The men made no sign. Olof picked up his pole from the grass, and began slowly wiping off the dew, eyeing the men watchfully as he did so. They stood about, apparently unconcerned. He bit his lips. Was he to let it pass off like this? He walked past them, with a burning glance.
Men hurried briskly along the forest tracks, and the great high road to the town was packed with an unbroken throng of pilgrims. All coming and going exchanged greetings, even with strangers a gay wave of the hand and a few words about the snow. Twilight was falling. Olof had just come in from his work in the forest, and was sitting in his little room in the peasant's hut where he was quartered.
There was something uncanny about him as he stood there a short, heavily-built fellow, standing without a word, one hand in his trousers pocket, a cigar in his mouth, and a red rosette, such as peasants wear on holidays, in the buttonhole of what was evidently his best coat. There he stood, gazing fixedly at Olof, with a curious glitter in his eyes.
"Let's have all three!" cried Olof. "That'll be twenty, please." He gave her the money and she slipped from the room. Olof looked round. How was this going to end? He was thankful at any rate that the room was neatly, almost tastefully furnished, and that the girl was so easy to talk to. The bottles and glasses were brought in.
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