On the Seaboard: A Novel of the Baltic Islands

by August Strindberg

The commissioner sat at his window on this Sunday afternoon and watched the two ladies put things in order down in their cottage. When he followed with his eyes their soft, but irregular movements, it was to him as though he heard music. The same modulations that a series of harmonizing tones develop on the ear drum and communicate to the nerve system, the same mild vibrations were now produced through the eye, and rang through the white strings which stretched from the cranium shell out over the sounding board of the chest and transmitted the vibrations through the foundation of his soul. A feeling of general pleasure streamed through his being, when he saw these women's hands moving in waving lines, as they picked trifles from their trunks and laid them on the table and chairs, the rising and sinking of the hips and shoulders imperceptible to the untrained eye, but still so elastic. And when the young woman passed through the room, there arose no straight line, no corners or edges when she turned, no angles when she bent over.

He was perfectly captivated in regarding this, so that for a moment he did not notice the noise in the garret and the creaking of the stairs and the raising of latches.

He was deeply occupied regarding the young lady whose exterior seemed to him perfectly beautiful except in one point, which deficiency he would try and accustom his eyes not to see. Her chin was a few lines too big and indicated a lower jaw unnecessarily developed in one who had ceased to catch, hold and tear uncooked meat, and when he saw it in profile he could picture the coming witch physiognomy, when the time came that the old woman's teeth loosened, the lips sunk and formed an obtuse angle and the nose dropped down over the prominent chin. But he must overcome this reminder of a beast of prey, and he pursued her face with his glance and reshaped it in his fancy, forced his eyes when they were fixed upon her face to see it in its entirety.

Now he heard footsteps and shouts down on the hill, and in a wild rage Oman's wife appeared with a swarm of women, who were carrying in triumph the rescued net down to the beach.

He instantly felt his authority infringed on, and taking his hat went down to the surveyor to demand his help as he was in the Crown's service and in duty bound to assist him.

In the room sat the custom house man at the coffee table, and as usual, when Vestman was out fishing, he had his arm around the waist of his sister-in-law. At the entrance of the commissioner he dropped his hold and under influence of the fear of being discovered he showed a greater officiousness than he otherwise would have done. He put on his uniform cap and went out and in a hasty desire to be a just man he stormed against the women and caught hold of the net.

"Damned old women, don't you know it is penitentiary to break the Crown's lock and seal!"

The women answered in a chorus of imputations, which alluded to both the commissioner and surveyor, the principal ones being that they did not care and that the devil might take the Crown's lock and seal, and that both gentlemen were of such characters that they could be put in penitentiary at any time.

Whereupon the surveyor became enraged and cried to a subordinate to bring the sheriff.

At the word sheriff the people gathered, crawled out of every hole and corner like ants, when one scratches in an ant-hill.