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Tales From Two Hemispheres-Part23_Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen(1848-1895)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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elevated pigeon cot and a clump of birches,

through whose sparse leaves the fjord beneath



sent its rapid jets and gleams of light, and its

strange suggestions of distance, peace and



unaccountable gladness.

Arnfinn Vording's career had presented that



subtle combination of farce and tragedy which

most human lives are apt to be; and if the tragic



element had during his early years been preponderating,

he was hardly himself aware of it; for



he had been too young at the death of his

parents to feel that keenness of grief which the



same privation would have given him at a later

period of his life. It might have been humiliating



to confess it, but it was nevertheless true

that the terror he had once sustained on being



pursued by a furious bull was much more vivid

in his memory than the vague wonder and



depression which had filled his mind at seeing his

mother so suddenly stricken with age, as she lay



motionless in her white robes in the front parlor.

Since then his uncle, who was his guardian and



nearest relative, had taken him into his family,

had instructed him with his own daughters, and



finally sent him to the University, leaving the little

fortune which he had inherited to accumulate



for future use. Arnfinn had a painfully distinct

recollection of his early hardships in trying to



acquire that soft pronunciation of the r which is

peculiar to the western fjord districts of Norway,



and which he admired so much in his

cousins; for the merry-eyed Inga, who was less



scrupulous by a good deal than her older sister,

Augusta, had from the beginning persisted in



interpreting their relation of cousinship as an

unbounded privilege on her part to ridicule him



for his personal peculiarities, and especially for

his harsh r and his broad eastern accent. Her



ridicule was always very good-natured, to be

sure, but therefore no less annoying.



But--such is the perverseness of human nature--

in spite of a series of apparent rebuffs,



interrupted now and then by fits of violent

attachment, Arnfinn had early selected this dimpled



and yellow-haired young girl, with her piquant

little nose, for his favorite cousin. It was the



prospect of seeing her which, above all else,

had lent, in anticipation, an altogether new



radiance to the day when he should present him-

self in his home with the long-tasseled student



cap on his head, the unnecessary "pinchers" on

his nose, and with the other traditional



paraphernalia of the Norwegian student. That

great day had now come; Arnfinn sat at Inga's



side playing with her white fingers, which lay

resting on his knee, and covering the depth of



his feeling with harmless banter about her

"amusingly unclassical little nose." He had



once detected her, when a child, standing before

a mirror, and pinching this unhappy feature in



the middle, in the hope of making it "like

Augusta's;" and since then he had no longer felt



so utterly defenselesswhenever his own foibles

were attacked.



"But what of your friend, Arnfinn?" exclaimed

Inga, as she ran up the stairs of the



pier. "He of whom you have written so much.

I have been busy all the morning making the



blue guest-chamber ready for him."

"Please, cousin," answered the student, in a






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