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Updated: June 1, 2025
There was not much to be got out of him; next time the horses stopped for a breathing space I worried out of him a few more contradictions as to the family at Ovrebo. The Captain, it seemed was away on manoeuvres all through the summer, and Fruen was at home alone. Yes, they had always a heap of visitors, of course; but the Captain was away.
The 12th of December I can keep a date in mind and carelessly forget things more important. It is only just now I remember about the books that Captain Falkenberg and his wife had many books in their house novels and plays a whole bookcase full. I saw it one day when I was painting windows and doors at Ovrebo. Entire sets of authors they had, and authors' complete works thirty books.
Strangely enough, I felt no excitement at the thought of what was to come; nothing of unrest, no; calmly and comfortably I took my way by farmstead, wood, and meadow. I thought to myself how I had once, years ago, spent some adventurous weeks at that same Ovrebo, even to being in love with Fruen herself, with Fru Lovise. Ay, that I was.
But he couldn't bear the disgrace of leaving his service like that. Nils had his own clear notions of honour, handed down through many generations. A young man from a big farm could not behave like a lad from a cottar's holding. And then he hadn't been here long enough yet; Ovrebo had been sadly ill-managed before he came: it would take some years to bring it round again.
We are getting in the potatoes now, and since we are thus far there is less hurry and anxiety about the work. But there is still much to be done. The ploughing is behindhand, and Lars Falkenberg and I are both at it, field and meadow land. Nils, queer creature that he was, began to find things intolerable at Ovrebo again, and talked of throwing up his place and going off altogether.
That evening, when we were back home, the Lensmand came out and talked to us of this and that, and asked: "Didn't you say you'd been working for Captain Falkenberg at Ovrebo?" "Yes." "I see he's invented a machine." "A machine?" "A patent saw for timber work. It's in the papers." I started at this. Surely he hadn't invented my patent saw? "There must be some mistake," I said.
The Captain looked fatigued, but he was not a broken man by any means; his manner was firm and steady enough. He spoke to me a little about a plan he had in mind for a big drying-house for hay and corn. No more of things awry now, Ovrebo, no more emotion, no soul gone off the rails. I thought of it almost with sadness.
She was just as kind as ever, but she had grown suspicious and easily hurt with all her trouble, and found rudeness in what was merely awkwardness of mine. "Well, well," she said, "I hope you find yourself as comfortable now at Ovrebo as before." And she nodded and walked away. Some days passed.
Yes, it would be unpleasant." "To see you here. A little unpleasant; I mean, because you knew about me before. So I asked the engineer if he couldn't send you away. Not that he wanted to himself, you understand. Quite the reverse, in fact, but he did at last. I'm glad you're going back to Ovrebo." "So?" said I. "But when Fruen comes home again surely it will be just as unpleasant to see me then?"
A few days more, and the work at the Lensmand's would be at an end; it fitted in very well, everything worked out nicely; on the 11th I was to be at Ovrebo. And that perhaps not a minute too soon. If the Captain really had any idea of his own about my machine, it would be necessary to act at once. Was a stranger to come stealing my hard-earned million? Hadn't I toiled for it?
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