 Section 24 of Invisible Links This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Reading by Lars Rolander. Invisible Links by Selma Lagerlöf. Translated by Pauline Bangtropsch Flack. Downey, Part 1 I think I can see them as they drive away. Quite distinctly I can see his stiff silk hat with its broad curving brim. Such as they had in the 40s. His light waistcoat and his stock. I also see his handsome clean shaven face with its small, small whiskers. His high stiff collar and the graceful dignity of his slightest movement. He is sitting on the right in the chaise and is just taking up the reins. And beside him is sitting that little woman. God bless her. I see her even more distinctly, like a picture I have before me. That narrow little face and the hat that frames it. Tied under the chin, the dark brown, smoothly combed hair and the big shawl with the embroidered silk flowers. The chaise in which they are driving has a seat with a green fluted back and of course the innkeeper's horse which is to take them the first six miles is a little fat sorrel. I lost my heart to her from the very first moment. There is no sense in it, for she is the most insignificant little person but I was one by seeing all the eyes that followed her when she drove away. In the first place I see how her father and mother look after her from where they stand in the doorway of the baker's shop. Her father even has tears in his eyes but her mother has no time to weep yet. She must use her eyes to look at her daughter as long as the latter can wave and nod to her. And then of course there are merry greetings from the children in the little street and rugish glances from all the pretty little factory girls from behind windows and doors and dreamy looks from some of the young salesmen and apprentices. But all not goodwill and good speed to her and then there are anxious glances for some poor old women who come out and courtesy and take off their spectacles to be able to see her as she drives by in state. But I cannot see a single unfriendly look following her. No, not in the whole length of the street. When she's out of sight her father wipes the tears from his eyes with his sleeve. Don't be sad now mother, he says. You will see that she will come out all right. Downy will manage mother even if she's so little. Father says the mother with great emphasis. You speak in a strange way. Why should Anne-Marie not be able to manage it? She is as good as anybody. Of course she is mother, but still mother, still. I would not be in her shoes nor go where she is going. Know that I would not. Well, and what good would that do, you ugly old baker, says mother, who sees that he's so uneasy about the girl that he needs to be cheered with a little joke. And father laughs, for he does that as easily as he cries. And then the old people go back into their shop. In the meantime Downy, the little silken flower, is in very good spirits as she drives along the road. A little afraid of her betrothed perhaps, but in her heart Downy is a little afraid of everybody. And that is a great help to her for an account of it everyone tries to show her that they are not dangerous. Never has she had such respect for Moritz as today. Now that they have left the back street, and all her friends are behind them, it seems to her that Moritz really grows to something big. His hat and collar and whisker stiffen, and the bow of his necktie swells. His voice grows thick in his throat, and he speaks with difficulty. She feeds a little depressed by it, but it is splendid to see Moritz so impressive. Moritz is so clever, he has so much advice to give. It is hard to believe, but Moritz talks only sense the whole way. But that is just like Moritz. He asks her if she understands clearly what this journey means to him. Does she think it is only a pleasure trip along the country road? Thirty miles in a good chase with her betrothed by her side did seem quite like a pleasure trip, and a beautiful place to drive to, a rich uncle to visit. Perhaps she has thought that it was only for amusement. Fancy if he knew that she had prepared herself for this journey by a long conference with her mother before they went to bed, and by a long succession of anxious streams through the night, and with prayers and with tears. But she pretends to be stupid in order to get more enjoyment out of Moritz' wisdom. He likes to show it, and she is glad to let him. The real trouble is that you are so sweet, says Moritz. For that was how he had come to care for her, and it was really very stupid of him. His father was not at all in favour of it, and his mother he hardly dared to think of what a fuss she had made when Moritz had informed her that he had engaged himself to a poor girl from a back street. A girl who had no education, no accomplishments, and who was not even pretty, only sweet. In Moritz' eyes, of course, the daughter of a baker was just as good as the son of a burgo master, but everyone did not have such liberal views as he. If Moritz had not had his rich uncle, it could never have come to anything, for he was only a student and had nothing to marry on. But if they now could win his uncle over, their way was clear. I see them so plainly as they drive along the road. She looks a little unhappy as she listens to his wisdom, but she is content in her thoughts, how sensible Moritz is. And when he speaks of the sacrifices he is making for her, it is only his way of saying how much he cares for her. And if she had expected that alone together on such a beautiful day he perhaps might be not quite the same as when they sat home with her mother, but that would not have been right of Moritz. She is proud of him. He is telling her what kind of man his uncle is. If he will befriend them, their fortune is made. Uncle Theodor is incredibly rich. He owns eleven smelting furnaces and farms and houses besides, and mines and stocks. To all these Moritz is the proper heir. But Uncle Theodor is a little uncertain to have to do with when it concerns anyone he does not like. If he is not pleased with Moritz's wife, he can will away everything. The little face grows paler and smaller, but Moritz only stiffens and swells. There is not much chance of Anne-Marie's turning his uncle's head as she did his. His uncle is quite a different kind of man. Moritz tastes? Well, Moritz does not think much of his taste, but he thinks that it would be something loud-voiced, something flashing and red which would strike uncle. Besides, he is a confirmed old bachelor, thinks women are only a bother. The most important thing is that he shall not dislike her too much. Moritz will take care of the rest, but she must not be silly. Is she crying? Oh, if she does not look better by the time they arrive, uncle will send them off inside of a minute. She is glad for their sakes that uncle is not as clever as Moritz. She hopes it is no sin against Moritz to think that it is good that uncle is quite a different sort of person. For fancy, if Moritz had been uncle and two poor young people had come driving to him to get aid in life, then Moritz, who is so sensible, would certainly have begged them to return whence they came and wait to get married until they had something to marry on. Uncle, however, was decidedly terrifying in his own way. He drank and gave great parties where everybody was very lively, and he did not at all understand how to manage his affairs. He must know that everyone cheated him, but he was none the less cheerful. And heedless, the burgamaster had sent by Moritz some shares in an undertaking that was not prosperous, but uncle would buy them of him, Moritz had said. Uncle did not care where he threw his money away. He had stood in town in the marketplace and tossed silver to the street boys, playing a way of couple of thousand crowns in a single night or lightening his pipe with ten crown notes where among the things uncle did. Thus they drove on and thus they talked while they were driving. They arrived toward evening. Uncle's residence, as he called it, did not stand by the ironworks. It lay far from all smoke and hammering on the slope of the mountain, looking over a wide view of lakes and long hills. It was a stately building with wooded lawns and groves of birches round about it, but few cultivated fields for the place was a pleasure palace, not a farm. The young people drove up an avenue lined with birches and elms. Then they drove between two low thick rows of hedges and were about to turn up to the house. But just where the road turned, a triumphal arch was raced and there stood uncle with his dependence to greet them. Downey never could have believed that Moritz would have prepared such a reception for her. Her heart grew light and she seized his hand and pressed it in gratitude. More she could not do then, for they were just under the arch. And there he stood, the well-known man, the iron master, Theodor Freistet, big and black-bearded and beaming with good will. He waved his hat and shouted hurrah, and all the people shouted hurrah, and tears rose in Ammari's eyes, although she was smiling. And of course they all had to like her from the very first moment, if only for her way of looking at Moritz, for she thought that they were all there for his sake. And she had to turn her eyes away from the whole spectacle to look at him, as he took off his hat with a sweep and bowed so beautifully and royally. Oh, such a look as she gave him! Uncle Theodor almost left off hurraying and felt like swearing when he saw it. No, she wished no harm to anyone on earth, but if the estate really had been Moritz, it would have been very suitable. It was most impressive to see him as he stood on the steps of the porch and turned to the people to thank them. The Iron Master was stately too, but what was his manner compared to Moritz? He only held her down from the carriage and took her shawl and hat like a footman, while Moritz lifted his hat from his white brow and said, Thank you, my children! No, the Iron Master certainly had no manners, for as he profited by his rights as an uncle and took her in his arms, he noticed that she managed to look at Moritz while he was kissing her, and his shawl really swore quite fiercely. Downey was not accustomed to find anyone disagreeable, but it certainly would be no easy task to please Uncle Theodor. Tomorrow, says Uncle, there will be a big dinner here and a ball, but today you young people must rest after your journey. Now we will eat our supper and then we will go to bed. They are escorted into a drawing-room, and there they are left alone. The Iron Master rushes out like a wind which is afraid of being shut in. Five minutes later, he is rolling down the avenue in his big carriage, and the coachman is driving so that the horses seem to be lying along the ground. After another five minutes, Uncle is there again, and now an old lady is sitting beside him in the carriage. And in he comes with a kind, talkative old lady on his arm, and she takes Anne-Marie and embraces her, but Moritz she greets more stiffly. No one can take any liberties with Moritz. However, Anne-Marie is very glad that this pleasant old lady has come. She and the Iron Master have such a merry way of joking with one another. But when they have said good night and Anne-Marie has come into her little room, something too tiresome and provoking happens. Uncle and Moritz are walking in the garden, and she knows that Moritz is unfolding his plans for the future. Uncle does not seem to be saying anything at all. He is only walking and striking the blades of grass with his stick. But Moritz will persuade him fast enough that the best thing for him to do is to give Moritz a position as manager of one of his steelworks if he does not care to give him the works outright. Moritz has grown so practical since he has been in love. He often says, Is it not best for me who am to be a great landowner to make myself familiar with it all? What is the use of taking my bar examinations? They are walking directly under the window and nothing prevents them from seeing that she is sitting there. But as they do not mind it, no one can ask that she shall not hear what they are saying. It is really just as much her affair as it is Moritz. Then Uncle Theodore suddenly stops and he looks angry. He looks quite furious, she thinks, and she almost calls to Moritz to take care. But it is too late for Uncle Theodore has ceased Moritz, crushed his ruffle and is shaking him till he twists like an eel. Then he slings him from him with such force that Moritz daggers backwards. Enne would have fallen if he had not found support in a tree trunk. And there Moritz stands and gasps. What? Yes, what else should he say? Ah, never has she admired Moritz self-control so much. He does not throw himself upon Uncle Theodore and fight him. He only looks calmly superior, merely innocently surprised. She understands that he controls himself so that the journey may not be for nothing. He is thinking of her and is controlling himself. Poor Moritz, it seems that his uncle is angry with him on her account. He asks if Moritz does not know that his uncle is a bachelor when he brings his betrothed here without bringing her mother with him. Her mother, Downey, is offended in Moritz's behalf. It was her mother who had excused herself and said that she could not leave the bakery. Moritz answers so too, but his uncle will accept no excuses. Well, his mother then. She could have done her son that service. Yes, if she had been too haughty they had better have stayed where they were. What would they have done if his old lady had not been able to come? And how could a betrothed couple travel alone through the country? Really, Moritz was not dangerous. No, that he had never believed, but people's tongues are dangerous. Well, and finally, it was that chairs had Moritz ferreted out the most ridiculous vehicle in the whole town to let that child shake thirty miles in a shears and to let him raise a triumphal arc for a shears he would like to shake him again to let his uncle shout hurrah for a tip-cart. He was getting too unreasonable how she admired Moritz for being so calm. She would like to join in the game and defend Moritz but she does not believe that he would like it. And before she goes to sleep she lies and thinks out everything she would have said to defend Moritz. Then she falls asleep and starts up again and in her ears rings an old saying. A dog stood on a mountain top. He barked aloud and would not stop. His name was you, his name was I, his name was all in earth and sky. What was his name? His name was why? The saying had irritated her many a time. Oh, how stupid she had thought the dog was. But now half asleep she confuses the dog what with Moritz and she thinks that the dog has his white forehead. Then she laughs. She laughs as easily as she cries. She has inherited that from her father. End of part one of Downey from Invisible Links by Selma Lagerlöf translated by Pauline Bancroft-Flock, read by Lars Rolander. Section 25 of Invisible Links. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Reading by Lars Rolander. Invisible Links by Selma Lagerlöf translated by Pauline Bancroft-Flock. Downey, part two. How has it come? That which she dares not call by name. It has come like the dew to the grass, like the color to the rose, like the sweetness to the berry, imperceptibly and gently without announcing itself beforehand. It is also no matter how it came or what it is. Were it good or evil, fair or foul, still it is forbidden, that which never ought to exist. It makes her anxious, sinful, unhappy. It is that of which she never wishes to think. It is what shall be torn away and thrown out, and yet it is nothing that can be seized or caught. She shuts her heart to it, but it comes in just the same. It turns back the blood in her veins and flows there, drives the thoughts from her brain and rains there, dances through her nerves and trembles in her fingertips. It is everywhere in her, so that if she had been able to take away everything else of which her body consisted and to have left it behind, there would remain a complete impression of her. And yet it was nothing. She wishes never to think of it, and yet she has to think of it constantly. How has she become so wicked? And then she searches and wonders how it came. Ah, Downey, how tender are our souls and how easily awakened are our hearts. She was sure that it had not come at breakfast, surely not at breakfast. Then she had only been frightened and shy. She had been so terrified when she came down to breakfast and found no more its only uncle Theodore and the old lady. It had been a clever idea of Moritz to go hunting, although it was impossible to discover what he was hunting in mid-summer, as the old lady remarked. But he knew, of course, that it was wise to keep away from his uncle for a few hours until the latter became calm again. He could not know that she was so shy, nor that she had almost fainted when she had found him gone and herself left alone with uncle and the old lady. Moritz had never been shy. He did not know what torture is. That breakfast, that breakfast, uncle had, as a beginning, asked the old lady if she had heard the story of Siegrid the beautiful. He did not ask Downey, neither would she have been able to answer. The old lady knew the story well, but he told it just the same. Then Anne-Marie remembered that Moritz had laughed at his uncle because in all his house he only had two books and those were Afselius fairy tales and Nozzle's popular stories for ladies, but those he knows Moritz had said. Anne-Marie had found the story pretty. She liked it when Bengt Lagman had pearls soon on the breadth of a home-spun. She saw Moritz before her how royally proud he would have looked when ordering the pearls. That was just the sort of thing Moritz would have done well. But when uncle had come to that part of the story where Bengt Lagman went into the woods to avoid the meeting with his angry brother and instead let his young wife meet the storm, then it became so plain that uncle understood Moritz had gone hunting to escape his wrath and that he knew how she thought to win him over. Yes, yesterday then they had been able to make plans, Moritz and she, how she should cook it with uncle, but today she had no thought of carrying them out. Oh, she had never behaved so foolishly. Every drop of blood streamed into her face and a knife and fork fell with a terrible clatter out of her hands down on her plate. But uncle Theodore had shown no mercy and had gone on with the story until he came to that princely speech. Had my brother not done it, I would have done it myself. He said it was such a strange emphasis that she was forced to look up and to meet his laughing brown eyes. And when he saw the trouble staring from her eyes he began to laugh like a boy. What do you think? he cried. Bengt Lagman thought when he came home and heard that had my brother. I think he stopped at home the next time. Tears rose to down his eyes and when uncle saw that he laughed louder. Yes, it is a fine party son my nephew has chosen, he seemed to say. You are not playing your part, my little girl. And every time she had looked at him the brown eyes had repeated. Had my brother not done it, I would have done it myself. Downey was not quite sure that the eyes did not say nephew and fancy how she behaved. She began to cry and rushed from the room. But it was not then that it came nor during the walk of the foreknown. Then she was occupied with something quite different. Then she was overcome with the pleasure of the beautiful place and that nature was so wonderful in near. She felt as if she had found again something she had lost long, long ago. People thought she was a city girl but she had become a country lass as soon as she put her foot on the sandy path. She felt instantly that she belonged to the country. As soon as she had calmed down a little she had ventured out by herself to inspect the place. She had looked about her on the lawn in front of the door. Then she suddenly began to whirl about. She hung her hat on her arm and threw her shawl away. She drew the air into her lungs so that her nostrils were drawn together and whistled. Oh, how brave she felt! She made a few attempts to go quietly and sedately down to the garden but that was not what attracted her. Turning off to one side she started towards the big group of barns and outhouses. She met a farm girl and said a few words to her. She was surprised to hear how brisk her own voice sounded. It was like an officer at the front and she felt how smart she looked when with head proudly raised and a little on one side moving with a quick free motion and with a little switch in her hand she entered the barn. It was not, however, what she had expected. No long rows of horned creatures were there to impress her but they were all out at pasture. A single calf stood in its pen and seemed to expect her to do something for him. She went up to him, raised herself on tiptoe, held her dress together with one hand and touched the calf's forehead with the fingertips of the other. As the calf still did not seem to think that she had done enough and stretched out his long tongue she graciously let him lick her little finger. She could not resist looking about her as if to find someone to admire her bravery and she discovered that Uncle Theodore stood at the barn door and laughed at her. Then he had gone with her on her walk but it did not come then. Not then at all. It had only wonderfully come to pass that she was no longer afraid of Uncle Theodore. He was like her mother. He seemed to know all her faults and weaknesses and it was so comfortable she did not need to show herself better than she was. Uncle Theodore wished to take her to the garden and to the terrace by the pond but that was not to her mind. She wished to know what there could be in all those big buildings. So he went patiently with her to the dairy and to the ice house, to the wine cellar and to the potato bins. He took the things in order and showed her the larder and the woodshed and the carriage house and the laundry. Then he led her through the stable of the draft horses and that of the carriage horses. Let her see the harness room and the servants' rooms, the labourers' cottages and the wood carving room. She became a little confused by all the different rooms that Uncle Theodore had considered necessary to establish on his estate but her heart was glowing with enthusiasm at the thought of how splendid it must be to have all that to rule over. So she was not tired although they walked through the sheep houses and the piggeries and looked in at the hens and the rabbits. She faithfully examined the weaving rooms and the dairies, the smokehouse and the smithy all with growing enthusiasm. Then they visited the big lofts, drying rooms for the clothes and drying rooms for the wood, hay lofts for dried leaves for the sheep to eat. The dormant housewife in her awoke to life and consciousness at all this perfection but most of all she was moved by the great brew house and the two neat bakeries with the wide oven and the big table. Mother ought to see that, she said. In the bakehouse they had sat down and rested and she had told of her home. He was already like a friend although his brown eyes laughed at everything she said. At home everything was so quiet, no life, no variety. She had been a delicate child and her parents had watched over her on account of it and let her do nothing. It was only a play that she was allowed to help in the baking and in the shop. Somehow she came to tell him that her father called her Downey. She had also said everybody spoils me at home except Moritz and that is why I like him so much. He's so sensible with me. He never calls me Downey, only Annamarie. Moritz is so admirable. Oh, how it had danced and laughed in Uncle's eyes. She could have struck him with her switch. She repeated almost with a sob. Moritz is so admirable. Yes, I know, I know, Uncle had answered. He's going to be my heir. Whereupon she had cried, ah, Uncle Theodore, why do you not marry? Think how happy anyone would be to be mistress of such an estate. How would it be, then, with Moritz's inheritance? Uncle had asked quite softly. Then she had been silent for a long while for she could not say to Uncle that she and Moritz did not ask for the inheritance. For that was just what they did do. She wondered if it was very ugly for them to do so. She suddenly had a feeling as if she ought to beg Uncle for forgiveness for some great wrong that they had done him. But she could not do that either. When they came in again, Uncle's dog came to meet them. It was a tiny little thing on the thinnest legs with fluttering ears and gasell-like eyes and nothing with a shrill little voice. You wonder, perhaps, that I have such a little dog, Uncle Theodore had said. Oh, I suppose I do, she had answered. But you see, it is not I who have chosen Jenny for my dog, but Jenny who has taken me as a master. You would like to hear the story, Downey? That name he had instantly seized upon. Yes, she would like it, although she understood that it would be something irritating, he would say. Well, you see, when Jenny came here the first time, she lay on the knees of a fine lady from the town and had a blanket on her back and a cloth about her head. Hush, Jenny. It is true that you had it and I thought what a little rat it was. But do you know, when that little creature was put down on the ground here, some memories of a childhood or something must have awakened in her. She scratched and kicked and tried to rub off her blanket and then she behaved like the big dogs here. So we said that Jenny must have grown up in the country. She lay out on the doorstep and never even looked at the parlor sofa and she chased the chickens and stole the cat's milk and barked at the beggars and darted about the horses' legs when we had guests. It was a pleasure and a joy to us to see how she behaved. You must understand a little thing that had only lay in a basket and been carried on the arm. It was wonderful and so when they were going to leave, Jenny would not go. She stood on the steps and whined so pitifully and jumped up on me and really asked to be allowed to stay. So there was nothing for us to do but to let her stay. We were touched by the little creature. It was so small and yet wished to be a country dog. But I had never thought that I should ever keep a lap dog. Soon perhaps I shall get a wife too. Oh, how hard it is to be shy to be uneducated. She wondered if Uncle had been very surprised when she rushed away so hurriedly but she had felt as if he had meant her when he spoke of Jenny and perhaps he had not at all. But anyway, yes, she had been so embarrassed. She could not have stayed. But it was not then it came, not then. Perhaps it was in the evening at the ball. Never had she had such a good time at any ball. But if anyone had asked her if she had danced much, she would have needed to reconsider and acknowledge that she had not. But it was the best proof that she had really enjoyed herself when she had not even noticed that she had been a little neglected. She had so much enjoyed looking at Moritz just because she had been a little bit severe on him at breakfast and laughed at him yesterday. It was such a pleasure to her to see him at the ball. He had never seemed to her so handsome and so superior. He had seemed to feel that she would consider herself injured because he had not talked and danced only with her. But it had been pleasure enough for her to see how everyone liked Moritz. As if she had wished to exhibit their love to the general gaze. Oh, Downey was not so foolish. Moritz danced many dances with the beautiful Elizabeth Westling. But that had not troubled her at all. For Moritz had time after time come up and whispered, You see, I can't get away from her. We are old friends. Here in the country they are so unaccustomed to have a partner who has been in society and can both dance and talk. You must lend me to the daughters of the country magnates for this evening Annemarie. But Uncle too gave way to Moritz. Be host for this evening, he said to him, and Moritz was. He was everywhere. He led the dance, he led the drinking and he made a speech for the country and for the ladies. He was wonderful. Both Uncle and she had watched Moritz. And then their eyes had met. Uncle had smiled and nodded to her. Uncle certainly was proud of Moritz. She had felt badly that Uncle did not really do justice to his nephew. Towards morning Uncle had been loud and quarrelsome. He had wanted to join the dance. But the girls drew back from him when he came up to them and pretended to be engaged. Dance with Annemarie Moritz had said to his uncle and it had sounded rather patronizing. She was so frightened that she quite shrank together. Uncle was offended too. Turned on his heel and went into the smoking room. Moritz came up to her and said with a hard voice, You are ruining everything Annemarie. Must you look like that when Uncle wishes to dance with you? If you could know what he said to me yesterday about you, you must do something too, Annemarie. Do you think it is right to leave everything to me? What do you wish me to do Moritz? Oh, now there is nothing. Now the game is spoiled. Think all I had won this evening. But it is lost now. I will gladly ask Uncle's pardon if you like Moritz. And she really meant it. She was honestly sorry to have hurt Uncle. That is of course the only right thing to do. But one can ask nothing of anyone as ridiculously shy as you are. She had not answered but had gone straight to the smoking room which was almost empty. Uncle had thrown himself down in an armchair. Why will you not dance with me? She had asked. Uncle Theodore's eyes were closed. He opened them and looked long at her. It was a look full of pain that she met. It made her understand how a prisoner must feel when he thinks of his chains. It made her sorry for Uncle. It seemed as if he had needed her much more than Moritz. For Moritz needed no one. He was very well as he was. So she laid her hand on Uncle Theodore's arm quite gently and caressingly. Instantly new life awoke in his eyes. He began to stroke her hair with his big hand. Little mother, he had said. Then it came over her while he stroked her hair. It came stealing. It came creeping. It came rushing as when elves passed through dark woods. End of part two of Downey from Invisible Links by Selma Lagerlöf translated by Pauline Bancroft Flak read by Lars Rolander. Section 26 of Invisible Links This is a Librebox recording. All Librebox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer. Please visit Librebox.org reading by Lars Rolander. Invisible Links by Selma Lagerlöf translated by Pauline Bancroft Flak Downey part three One evening thin soft clouds are floating in the sky. One evening all is still and mild. One evening the air is filled with fine white down from the aspens and poplars. It is quite late and no one is up except Uncle Theodore who is walking in the garden and is considering how he can separate the young man and the young woman. For never, never in the world shall it come to pass that Moritz leaves his house with her at his side while Uncle Theodore stands on the steps and wishes them a pleasant journey. Is it a possibility to let her go at all since she has filled the house for three days with merry chirping since she in her quiet way has accustomed them to be cared for and petted by her since they have all grown used to seeing that soft supple little creature roving about everywhere. Uncle Theodore says to himself that it is not possible. He cannot live without her. Just then he strikes against a dandelion which has gone to seed and like men's resolutions and men's promises the white ball of down is scattered. Its white floss flies out and is dispersed. The night is not cold as the nights generally are in that part of the country. The warmth is kept in by the great cloud blanket. The winds show themselves merciful for once and do not blow. Uncle Theodore sees her downy. She is weeping because Moritz has forsaken her but he draws her to him and kisses away her tears. Soft and fine the white down falls from the great ripe clusters of the trees so light that the air will scarcely let them fall so fine and delicate that they hardly show on the ground. Uncle Theodore laughs to himself when he thinks of Moritz. In thought he goes into him the next morning while he is still lying in his bed. Listen, Moritz. He means to say to him, I do not wish to inspire you with false hopes. If you marry this girl you need not expect a penny from me. I will not help to ruin your future. Do you think so badly of her, uncle? Moritz will say. No, on the contrary. She is a nice girl but still not the one for you. You shall have a woman like Elizabeth Bestling. Be sensible Moritz. What will become of you if you break off your studies and go into trade for that child's sake? You are not suited to it, my boy. Something more is needed for such work than to be able to lift your hat gracefully from your head and to say, thank you, my children. You are cut out and made for a civil official. You can become minister. If you have such good opinion of me, Moritz will answer. Help me with my examination and let us afterwards be married. Not at all. What do you think would become of your career if you had such a weight as a wife? The horse which drags the bread wagon does not go fast ahead. Think of the girl from the bakery as a minister's wife. No, you ought to engage yourself for at least ten years. Not before you have made your place. What would the result be if I helped you to be married? Every year you would come to me and beg for money. You and I would both worry of that. But, uncle, I am a man of honor. I have engaged myself. Listen, Moritz, which is better for her to go and wait for you for ten years and then find that you will not marry her or for you to break it off now? No, be decided. Get up, take the chase and go home before she wakes. It will never do at any rate for a betrothed couple to wonder about the country by themselves. I will take care of the girl if you only give up this madness. My old friend will go home with her. You shall be supported by me so that you do not need worry about your future. Now be sensible. You will please your parents by obeying me. Go now without seeing her. I will talk to her. She will not stand in the way of your happiness. Do not try to see her before you leave. Then you could grow soft-hearted for she is sweet. At those words, Moritz makes an heroic decision and goes his way. And when he has gone, what will happen then? Scoundrel sounds in the garden loud and threateningly as if to a thief. Uncle Theodore looks about him. Is it no one else? Is it only he calling so at himself? What will happen afterwards? Oh, he will prepare her for Moritz departure. Show her that Moritz was not worthy of her. Make her despise him. And when she has cried her heart out on his breast, he shall so carefully, so skillfully make her understand what he feels, lure her, win her. The down still falls. Uncle Theodore stretches out his big hand and catches a bit of it. So fine. So light. So delicate. He stands and looks at it. It falls about him, flake after flake. What will become of them? They will be driven by the wind, soiled by the earth, trampled upon by heavy feet. He begins to feel as if that light down fell upon him with the heaviest weight. Who will be the wind? Who will be the earth? Who will be the shoe when it is a question of such defenseless little things? And as a result of his extraordinary knowledge of Knossel's popular stories, an episode from one of them occurred to him like what he had just been thinking. It was an early morning, not falling night as now. It was a rocky shore, and down by the sea sat a beautiful youth with a panter skin over his shoulder, with bind leaves in his hair, with thyrsus in his hand, who was he? Oh, the God Bacchus himself! On the rocky shore was Naxus. It was the seas of Greece, the godsaw. The ship with the black sails swiftly sailing towards the horizon was stared by the thesives, and in the grotto the entrance which opened high up in a projection of the steep cliff During the night the young God had thought is this mortal youth worthy of that divine girl? And to test thesives he had in a dream frightened him with the loss of his life if he did not instantly forsake Ariadne. Then the latter had risen up, hastened to the ship and fled away over the waves without even waking the girl to say goodbye. Now the God Bacchus sat there smiling rocked by the tenderest hopes and waited for Ariadne. The sun rose the morning breeze freshened he abandoned himself to smiling dreams. He would know well how to console the forsaken one he the God Bacchus himself. Then she came she walked out of the grotto with a beaming smile her eyes sought thesives they wandered farther away to the anchoring place of the ship to the sea to the black sails and then with a piercing scream without consideration without hesitation down into the waves down to death and oblivion. And there sat the God Bacchus the consoler. So it was thus had it actually happened. Uncle Theodore remembered that Nosalt adds in a few words that sympathetic poets affirm that Ariadne let herself be consoled by Bacchus but the sympathizers were certainly wrong. Ariadne would not be consoled. Good God because she's good and sweet so that he must love her shall she for that reason be made unhappy as a reward for the sweet little smiles she had given him because her soft little hand had lain so trustingly in his because she had not been angry when he gested shall she lose her betrothed and be made unhappy for which of all her misdemeanors shall she be condemned because she has shown him a room in his innermost soul which seems to have stood fine and clean and unoccupied all these years awaiting just such a tender and motherly little woman or because she has already such power over him that he hardly dares to swear lest she hear it or for what shall she be condemned Oh poor Bacchus poor Uncle Theodore it is not easy to have to do with such delicate light bits of down they leap into the sea when they see black sails Uncle Theodore swears softly because Downey has not black hair red cheeks coarse limbs then another flake falls and it begins to speak it is I who would have followed you all your days I would have whispered a warning in your ear at the car table I would have moved away the wine glass you would have borne it from me I would he whispers I would another comes and speaks too it is I who would have rained over your big house and made it cheery and warm it is I who would have followed you through the desert of old age I would have lighted your fire have been your eyes and your staff should I have been fit for that sweet little Downey he answers you would again a flake comes and says I am so to be pitted tomorrow my betrothed is leaving me without even saying Parwell tomorrow I shall weep, weep all day long for I shall feel the shame of not being good enough for Moritz and when I come home I do not know how I shall be able to come home how I can cross my father's threshold after this the whole street will be full of whispering and gossip when I show myself everyone will wonder what evil things I have done to be so badly treated is it my fault that you love me he answers with a sob in his throat do not speak so little Downey it is too soon to speak so he wonders there the whole night and towards midnight comes a little darkness he is in great trouble the heavy sultry air seems to be still in terror of some crime which is to be committed in the morning he tries to calm the night by saying aloud I shall not do it then the most wonderful thing happens the night is ceased with a trembling dreed it is no longer the little flakes which are falling but round about him rustle great and small wings he hears something flying but does not know weather they rush by him they grace his cheek they touch his clothes and hands and he understands what it is the leaves are falling from the trees the flowers flee from their stalks the wings fly away from the butterflies the song forsakes the birds and he understands when the sun rises his garden will be a waste empty, cold and silent winter shall rain there no play of butterflies no song of birds he remains until the light comes again and he is almost astonished when he sees the thick masses of leaves on the trees what is it then he says it laid waste if it was not the garden not even a blade of grass is missing it is I who must live in winter and cold hereafter not the garden it is as if the mainspring of life were gone ah, you old fool this will pass like everything else it is too much to do about a little girl end of part 3 of Downey from Invisible Links by Selma Lagerlö translated by Pauline Bancroft Flack read by Lars Rolander section 27 of Invisible Links this is her LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org reading by Lars Rolander Invisible Links by Selma Lagerlö translated by Pauline Bancroft Flack Downey part 4 how very improperly it behaved the morning they were to leave during the two days after the ball I mean rather something inspiring something exciting but now when Downey is to leave when it realizes that the end has come that it will never play any part in her life then it changes to a death thrust to a deathly coldness she feels as if she were dragging a body of stone down the stairs to the breakfast she stretches out a heavy cold hand of stone when she says good morning she speaks with the slow tongue of stone smiles with hard stone lips it is a labor a labor but who can help being glad when everything is arranged according to old fashioned faith and honor Uncle Theodore turns to Downey for breakfast and explains with a strangely harsh voice that he has decided to give more it's the position of manager at Laxuhitan but as the aforesaid young man continued uncle with a strange attempt to return to his usual manner is not much at home in practical occupations he may not enter upon the position until he has a wife at his side has she miss Downey tended her middle so well that she can have a crown and breath in September she feels how he's looking into her face she knows that he wishes to have a glances thanks but she does not look up more it sleeps up he embraces uncle and makes a great deal of noise but Anna Marie why do you not thank uncle you must kiss uncle Theodore Anna Marie Laxuhitan is the most beautiful place in the world come now Anna Marie she raises her eyes there are tears in them and through the tears a glance full of despair and reproach falls on Moritz she cannot understand he insists upon going with an uncovered light into the powder magazine she turns to uncle Theodore but not with the shy childish manner she had before but with a certain nobleness with something of the martyr of an imprisoned queen you are much too good to us she says only thus is everything accomplished according to the demands of honor there is not another word to be said in the matter he has not robbed her of her faith in him whom she loves she has not betrayed herself she is faithful to him who has made her his betrothed although she is only a poor girl from a little bakery in a back street and now the chase can be brought up the trunks be corded the luncheon basket filled uncle Theodore leaves the table he goes and places himself by a window ever since she has turned to him with that tearful glance he is out of his senses he is quite mad ready to throw himself upon her press her to his breast and call to Moritz to come and tear her away if he can his hands are in his pockets through the clenched fists cramped like convulsions are passing and he allow her to put on her hat to say goodbye to the old lady there he stands again on the cliff of Naxos and wishes to steve the beloved for himself no not steal why not honorably and manfully step forward and say I am your rival Moritz your betrothed must choose between us you are not married in trying to win her from you look well after her I mean to use every expedient then he would be warned and she would know what alternative lay before her his knuckles cracked when he clenched his fists again how Moritz would laugh at his old uncle when he stepped forward and explained that and what would be the good of it would he frighten her so that he would not even be allowed to help them in the future but how will it go now when she approaches to say goodbye to him he almost screams to her to take care to keep three paces away from him he remains at the window and turns his back on them all while they are busy with their wraps and their lunch and basket never be ready to go he has already lived it through a thousand times he's taken her hand kissed her, helped her into the chairs he's done it so many times that he believes she's already gone he has also wished her happiness happiness can she be happy with Moritz she has not looked happy this morning oh yes certainly she has she wept with joy while he's standing there Moritz suddenly says to Anamari what a dunce I am I'm quite forgetting to speak to uncle about father's shares I think it would be best if you did not down the answers perhaps it is not right nonsense Anamari the shares do not pay anything just now but who knows if they will not be better someday and besides what does it matter to uncle such a little thing she interrupts with unusual eagerness almost anxiously I beg of you Moritz do not do it give in to me this once he looks at her a little offended this once as if I were a tyrant over you no, do you see you cannot just for that word I think that I ought not to yield do not cling to a word Moritz this means more than polite phrases I think it is not well of you to wish to cheat uncle now when he has been so good to us be quiet Anamari be quiet what do you understand of business his whole manner is now irritatingly calm and superior he looks at her as a school master looks at a good pupil who is making a fool of himself at his examination that you do not at all understand what is at stake she cries and she strikes out despairingly with her hands I really must talk to uncle now says Moritz if for nothing else to show him that there is no question of any deceit you behave so that uncle can believe that I and my father are veritable cheats and he comes forward to his uncle and explains to him what these shares which his father wishes to sell him are uncle Theodore listens to him as well as he can he understands instantly that his brother has made a bad speculation and wishes to protect himself from loss but what of it what of it does it render to the whole family connection such services but he is not thinking of that but of Downey he wonders what is the meaning of that look of resentment she cast upon Moritz it was not exactly love and so in the midst of his despair over the sacrifice he has to make a faint glimmer of hope begins to rise up before him he stands and stares at it like a man who is sleeping in a haunted room and sees a light mist rise from the floor and condense and grow and become a tangible reality come with me into my room Moritz he says you shall have the money immediately but while he speaks his eyes rest on Downey to see if the ghost can be prevailed upon to speak but as yet he sees only death in her but he has hardly sat down by the desk in his room when the door opens and Annamarie comes in Uncle Theodore she says very firmly and decidedly do not buy those papers ah such courage Downey who would have believed it of you who had seen you three days ago when you sat at Moritz side in the shares shrink and grow smaller for every word you said now she needs all her courage for Moritz is angry in earnest hold your tongue he hisses at her and then roars to make himself heard by Uncle Theodore who is sitting at his desk and counting notes what is the matter with you the shares give no interest now I have told Uncle that but Uncle knows as well as I that they will pay do you think Uncle will let himself be cheated by one like me Uncle surely understands those things better than any of us has it ever been my intention to give out these shares as good have I said anything but that for him who can wait it may be a good affair Uncle Theodore says nothing he only hands a package of notes to Moritz he wonders if this will make the ghost speak Uncle says the little intractable proclamer of the truth for it is a known fact that no one can be more intractable than those soft delicate creatures when they are in the right these shares are not worth a shilling and will never be we all know it at home there Annemarie you make me out a scoundrel she surveys him all over as if her eyes were the moving blades of a pair of scissors and she cuts off him bit by bit everything in which she had closed him and when at last she sees him in all the nakedness of egotism and selfishness her terrible little tongue passes sentence upon him what else are you Annemarie yes what else are we both continues the merciless tongue which since it has once started finds it best to clear up this matter which has tortured her conscience ever since she began to realize that this rich man who owned this big estate had a heart too which could suffer and drown so while her tongue is so well started and all shyness has fallen from her she says when we placed ourselves in the shares at home there what did we think what did we talk about on the way about how we would deceive him there you must be brave Annemarie you said and you must be crafty and you must be crafty more it's I said we thought only of ingratiating ourselves we wish to have much and we wish to give nothing to theocracy it was not our intention to say help us because we are poor and care for one another but we were to flatter and fawn until uncle was charmed by me or by you that was our intention but we meant to give nothing in return neither love nor respect nor even gratitude and why did you not come alone why must I come too you wish to show me to him you wished me to to uncle Theodore raises when he sees Moritz raise his hand against her for now he has finished counting and follows what is passing with his heart swelling with hope his heart flies wide open to receive her as she now screams and runs into his arms runs there without hesitation or consideration quite as if there were no other place on earth to wish to run uncle he will strike me and she presses close close to him but Moritz is now calm again forgive my impetuousity Annemarie he says it hurt me to hear you speak in such a childish way in uncle's presence but uncle must also understand that you are only a child still I grant that not even just rough gives a man the right to strike a woman come here now and kiss me you need not seek protection from me with anybody she does not move does not turn only clings more closely downy shall I let him take you whispers uncle Theodore she answers only with a shudder which quivers through him also uncle Theodore feels so strong so inspired he too no longer sees his perfect nephew as before in the bright light of his perfection he dares to just with him Moritz he says you surprise me love makes you weak can you so promptly forgive her having called you a scoundrel you must break with her instantly your honor Moritz think of your honor nothing in the world can permit a woman to insult a man place yourself in the chase my boy and go away without this abandoned creature it is only pure and simple justice after such an insult as he finishes the speech he puts his big hands about her head and bends it back so that he can kiss her forehead and give up this abandoned creature he repeats but now Moritz begins to understand also he sees the light in uncle Theodore's eyes and how one smile after the other dances over his lips come Anna Marie she starts now he calls her as the man to whom she has promised herself she feels she must obey then she lets go of uncle Theodore so suddenly that he cannot stop her but she cannot go to Moritz so she slides down to the floor and there she remains sitting and sobs go home alone in your chair Moritz says uncle Theodore sharply this young lady is guessed in my house as yet and I intend to protect her from your interference longer things are Moritz but only to lift her up dry her tears and whisper that he loves her Moritz who sees them the one weeping the other comforting cries oh this is a conspiracy I am tricked this is a comedy you have stolen my betrothed from me and you mock me you let me call one who never intends to come I congratulate you on this affair Annamarie as he rushes out and slams the door he calls back fortune hunter uncle Theodore makes a movement as if to go after him and chastise him but Downey holds him back ah uncle Theodore do let Moritz have the last word Moritz is always right fortune hunter that is just what I am uncle Theodore she creeps again close to him without hesitation without question and uncle Theodore is quite confused just now she was weeping and now she is laughing just now she was going to marry one man and now she is caressing another then she lifts up her head and smiles now I am your little dog you cannot be rid of me Downey says uncle Theodore with his gruffist voice you have known it the whole time she began to whisper had my brother and yet you wished Downey Moritz is lucky to be rid of you such a foolish deceitful hypocritical Downey such an unreliable little whisper such a such a ah Downey ah silken flower you were certainly not a fortune hunter only you were also a fortune giver otherwise there would be nothing left of your happy peace in the house where you lived to this day the garden is shaded by big beaches and the birch tree trunk stands there white and spotless from the root upwards to this day the snake suns himself in peace on the slope and in the pond in the park swims a carp which is so old that no boy has the heart to catch it and when I come there there is festival in the air and it seems as if the birds and flowers still sang their beautiful songs of you end of part 4 of Downey from Invisible Links by Selma Lagerlöf translated by Pauline Bancroft Fluck read by Lars Rolander section 28 of Invisible Links this is a LibriVox recording or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org reading by Lars Rolander Invisible Links by Selma Lagerlöf translated by Pauline Bancroft Fluck among the climbing roses I could wish that people with whom I have spent my summer would let their glance fall on these lines now when the cold dark nights have come I should like to carry their thoughts back to that bright warm season above all I should like to remind them of the climbing roses that enclosed the veranda of the delicate somewhat thin foliage of clematis which in the sunlight as well as in the moonlight was drawn in dark gray shadows on the light gray stone floor and through a light lace-like veil over everything and of its big bright blossoms with their ragged edges other summers remind me of fields of clover of the birch woods or of apple trees and berry bushes but that summer took its character from the climbing roses the bright delicate buds that could resist neither wind nor rain the light waving pale green shots the soft bending stems the exuberant richness of blossoms the gaily humming hosts of insects all follow me and rise up before me in their glory when I think of that summer that rosy, delicate dainty summer now when the time for work has come people often ask me how I passed my summer then everything glides from my memory and it seems to me as if I had sat day in and day out on the veranda behind the climbing roses and breathed in fragrance and sunshine what did I do? oh, I watched others work there was a little upholsterer bee which worked from morning till night from night till morning from the soft green leaves it sewed out a neat little oval with its sharp jaws rolled it together as one rolls up a real carpet and with a precious burden pressed to it it fluttered away to the park and lighted on an old tree stump there was a little upholsterer bee on its stump there it burrowed down through dark passageways and mysterious galleries until at last it reached the bottom of a perpendicular shaft in its unknown depths where neither ant nor centipede ever had ventured it spread out the green leaf roll and covered the uneven floor with the most beautiful carpet and when the floor was covered the bee came back for new leaves to cover the walls of the shaft and worked so quickly and eagerly that there was soon not a leaf in the rose hedge that did not have an oval hole which bore testimony that it had been forced to assist in the adorning of the old trees down one fine day the little bee changed its occupation it bore deep in among the ragged petals of the full blown roses sucked and drank all it could in those beautiful largers and when it had got its fill it flew quickly away to the old stump to fill the freshly papered chambers with brightest honey the little upholsterer bee was not the only one who had worked in the rose bushes there was also a spider a quite unparalleled spider it was bigger than any spider I have ever seen it was bright orange with a clearly marked cross on its back and it had eight long red and white striped legs all equally well marked you ought to have seen its spin every thread was drawn out with the greatest precision from the first ones that were only for supports to the last fine connecting thread and you should have seen it balance its way along the slender threads to cease a fly or to take its place in the middle of the web motionless, patient waiting for hours that big orange spider won my heart he was so patient and so wise every day he had his little encounter with the upholsterer bee and he always came out of the affair with the same unfailing tact the bee who took his way close by him caught time and time again in his net instantly it began to bust and tear it dragged at the fine web and behaved like a mad thing which naturally resulted in its being more and more entangled and getting both legs and wings wound up in the sticky net as soon as the bee was exhausted and weakened the spider came creeping out to it it kept always at a respectful distance but with the extreme end of one of the beautiful red striped legs it gave the bee a little push so that it swung round in the web when the bee had again bust and raged itself tired it received another gentle show and then another until it spun round like a top and did not know what it was doing in its fury and became so confused that it could not defend itself but during the whirling the threads that held it fast twisted even more tightly till the tension became so great that they broke and the bee fell to the ground yes, that was what the spider had wished of course and that performance could they repeat those two day after day as long as the bee had worked in the rose bushes never could the little bee learn to look out for the spider web and never did the spider show anger or impatience I like them both the little eager furry worker as well as the big crafty old hunter very few great events happened in the garden of the climbing roses between the espaliers one could see the little lake lying and twinkling in the sunlight and it was a lake which was too little and too shut in to be able to heave in real waves but at every little ripple on the grey surface thousands of small sparkles that glistened and played on the waves blew up it seemed as if its depth had been full of fire that could not get out and it was the same with the summer life there it was usually so quiet but if there came the slightest little ripple oh how it could shine and glitter we needed nothing great to make us happy a flower or a bird could make us merry for several hours not to speak of the upholsterer bee I shall never forget what pressure I had once on his account the bee had been in the spider web as usual and the spider had as usual helped him out but it had been fastened so securely that it had to bus a dreadfully long time and had been very tamed and subdued when it had flown away I bent forward to see if the spider web had suffered much damage fortunately it had not but on the other hand a little yellow larva was caught in the web a little thread-like monster which consisted of only yours and claws and I was agitated really agitated at the sight of it I knew them those may bugged larva that in thousands crawl up on the flowers and hide themselves under their petals did I not know them and yet admire them those bald cunning parasites that sit hidden and wait only wait even if it is for weeks until a bee comes in whose yellow and black down they can hide and did I not know their hateful skill just when the little cell-builder found a room with honey and on its surface laid the egg from which the rightful owner of the cell and the honey will come forth just then to creep down on the egg and with careful balancing sit on it as on a boat for if they should come down into the honey they would drown and while the bee covers the thimble-like cell with a green roof its young one the yellow larva tears open the egg with its sharp jaws and devours its contents while the egg shell has still to serve as craft on the dangerous honey-sea but gradually the little yellow larva grows flat and big and can swim by itself on the honey and drink of it and in the course of time a fat black beetle comes out of the bee cell it is certain that this is not what the little bee wished to effect by its work and however cunningly and cleverly the beetle may have behaved it is nevertheless nothing but a lazy parasite who deserves no sympathy and my bee, my own little industrious bee had flown about with such a yellow hanger on in its town but while the spider had spun round with it the larva had loosened and fallen down on the spider web and now the big orange spider came and gave it a bite and transformed it in a second into a skeleton without life or substance when the little bee came again its humming was like a hymn to life oh, thou beautiful life it said I thank thee that happy work among roses and sunshine has fallen to my lot I thank thee that I can enjoy thee without anxiety or fear well I know that spiders lie in weight and beetle steal but happy work is mine and brave freedom from care oh, thou beautiful life thou glorious existence end of among the climbing roses from invisible links by Selma Lagerlö and thereby end of the book of short stories invisible links translated by Pauline Bankrott Flack and read by Lars Rolander