HARDANGER HEADDRESS
Next morning I bought with much joy an old and beautifully carved wooden box. I was very glad to give fifteen kroner for it; but, deeply attached to it as I was, we went off without it. I remembered it before we had gone very far, and raced back alone in the carriole. Then I caught the others up. Our driver expressing great curiosity as to my parcel, I showed it to him. He wanted to know the price, and I told him, rather proud of myself at having made a good bargain, as I thought; but he laughed discreetly, and informed us that in the depth of winter, when money is scarce among the peasants, their treasures are bought up by men, going round for the purpose, for next to nothing. Thus the summer tourist always pays heavily. If he gets things from the peasants themselves, they have to "get even" with the forced sales of the winter. As for the town antiquaries, the price they ask for their treasures would make a Dutch peasant blush, and anyone who has endeavoured to obtain the object of his fancy from such an one will realise that this is no light task.
That day we drove through mysterious pine-woods, which kept from us all the warming rays of the sun. Before we reached the forest the road followed the course of a river, and then, leaving that, ran beside a lake. Most of the way we walked, to warm ourselves. It was late in the year for this route, and we were alone on the road—at any rate, for this portion of it. Later we met strings of peasants coming from a fair.
We had luncheon at a little place which was quite off its head with business. There had been a cattle fair some distance off, and all those interested were on the road, making their way home. During our drive that afternoon we met some of the prize-winners, horses and cattle decorated with ribbon rosettes of many colours, and carrying their certificates suspended from their horns or from their necks. The placing of the rosettes was amusing. In most cases the animals were attended by a handmaiden in a dark skirt, a black velvet bodice elaborately embroidered in coloured silk, and a fringed kerchief tied gracefully round the head, and falling down the back with the long thick hair. Most of the peasant women in Telemarken, of whatever age, wear their hair loose, as indeed do the poorer country women all over Norway. However, the prize cows were making their way but slowly, grazing unchidden on invisible food among the fallen leaves by the wayside; doubtless the women were the wives and daughters of the burly farmers whom we had left enjoying their dinner at our last halting-place.
RIVER AT HAUKELI
Somewhere that day we passed a turning in the road that, had we taken it, would have led us to the wonderful Rjukan Fos, of which romantic stories have been told. Many of the most beautiful spots in Norway are rendered more interesting by various legends connected with them. One cannot guarantee their accuracy; but they are very welcome. I quote this tragic romance as a dark gem set in the Rjukan Fos.
"Near the Rjukan Fos there is a path over the mountain called the 'Marie Stige,' on the brink of the precipice of the famous fall, which even at this day the traveller treads with fear, and which was discovered by a young maiden in the courage of love. It was by this path that the beautiful Marie of Westfjorddalen went with light and fearless step to meet the friend of her childhood, Ejestein Halfoordsen. But the avarice of her father separated them, and Marie's tears and prayers prevailed upon her lover to fly, to escape the plot formed by a treacherous rival against his life. Years passed, and Marie was firm in her constancy. Her father died; Ejestein had by his valour and nobleness made his former enemy his friend, and after their long separation the lovers were to meet again. Ejestein hastened by the shortest way, the Marie Stige, to meet his beloved. Long had she watched for him; she saw him coming, and his name burst from her with a joyful cry. He saw and rushed to meet her, but fell, and the Rjukan whirled him into its foaming depths. For many years after this a pale form, in whose beautiful eyes a quiet madness lay, wandered daily on the Marie Stige, and seemed to talk with someone in the abyss below. Here she walked until a merciful voice summoned her to go and rest in the arms of her beloved."
All the way to Dalen our drive was brightened by the rosetted cows, making their way up the hill which we descended. The mountain rose sheer on our right, two thousand feet above the road; on our left, awe-inspiring precipices made us hold our breath, as every now and then we were obliged to pass a vehicle coming the opposite way. The young Frenchmen in the carriage and pair were driving immediately before us. Suddenly there was a crash, and down fell one of their horses. The outer wheels of the vehicle were over the edge of the precipice. For one terrible second it was as if an awful tragedy could not be averted. The splendid little pony on the mountain-side held good his ground, and my driver, by sheer bodily force, half lifted, half pushed, the carriage from its dangerous position. The three occupants had jumped out; but the driver, almost paralysed with terror, was still sitting on his box. The pony had broken the shaft on which it had fallen, but, fortunately, had done itself no harm. Between them the men patched it up as well as they could, and we proceeded. We were not very far from Dalen, however, and the young men elected to walk the rest of the journey. We kept behind the carriage, in fear of further accidents, and went along so slowly that the walkers arrived some time before we did.