The Old Room

by Carl Ewald

But, when it happened that Cordt’s glance fell upon him, without his knowing it, the loneliness was suddenly extinguished in his soul.

Then he knew who he was and where he was and the pain of life gnawed into his soul. For he constantly read the eternal, hopeless, fond question in his father’s eyes. He realized what he had forgotten, that the house was making holiday for his sake and his sake alone. Every strain that sounded, every rose that blushed, every pretty woman who moved across the floor: they were all his father’s servants, who came to him with message after message that life’s banquet was served if he would but take his seat at the board and drain its golden cup.

Then he thought sadly of his tranquil, beautiful mother, who had gone from him, out into life, which did not touch him. How good it would have been if they could sit together now and talk and be silent, while the fountain rippled in the square and the queer things in the old room whispered their strange and mighty legend!

It would have been good for him. And good for her, he thought. And best of all, perhaps, for Cordt, who did not see her.

His thoughts gathered in love for Cordt, who was struggling to the death in his hopeless fight. He felt as though his father were a hero in the wars and wished that he were his meanest page to buckle on his armor for him and bathe his wounds and sit beside him with his lute, when he would sleep.

But the rout ran its course and it was late before the gate closed behind the last carriage.

It fell heavily and harshly as though it were striking angrily at the guests’ heels. It grated its hinges long and shook its bolts as though it thought of never opening again, but of shutting out the world for ever from that old house, in which no light could drive away the increasing gloom, no joyous trumpets drown the hoarse voices that threatened in the corners.

Then they sat together for a while longer, they three who dwelt in the house, and talked with empty words and empty eyes.

Fru Adelheid it was who first ceased, because her thoughts were the strongest. And Finn it was who said the most ... as though to expiate the fault that oppressed him.

But it was Cordt who was bitterest in his care, while indifferent words passed between those who stood as close together as it was possible for mortals to stand and who feared the silence and who had nothing more to say to each other.