He began to think that his men had not the respect for him that they formerly had, and he was therefore unusually hot-tempered with them. When he was driving he thought that the horses did not go so willingly either—as if they had a suspicion too; and he used the whip more than ever before, and drove recklessly. It was at any rate no mistake that his good dog Hector began to look timidly at him, as if he too suspected something.
“Don’t be uneasy!” he said to himself, “you’ve risen in the esteem of your fellow creatures at any rate.” The fury of the country-side against Wangen only placed Norby in a better light. If one man took Wangen’s part, it stirred up twenty to range themselves on Norby’s side; and as the old man drove along in his single sledge, dressed in his fur coat, people bowed lower than before, and those who had hitherto never bowed did so now. And the old man would laugh silently to himself. “The beasts despise me for what I have done,” he thought, “but men respect me. Such is life!”
“They surely can’t be merely making fun of me?” he thought one day. “Suppose they’re only showing me all this respect in mockery!” The idea was unbearable, and he felt he must make sure whether it were so or not.
One day the people at the parsonage were surprised to see Norby drive up to the door, and come tramping in in his great driving boots. He was very cheerful, and as he sat leaning forward and stroking his knees, he told them that next Saturday he and his wife had determined to roast a pig whole, as he had seen it done in England, and if any one cared to come they might get a bone to gnaw.
Both the pastor and his wife began to laugh, for Norby always gave an invitation in his own peculiar way. And the old man thought: “They can’t have any suspicion of me when they laugh so naturally;” and when they both accepted his invitation he felt himself secure.
He also dropped in at the doctor’s, and there things went just as smoothly. And he was at the bailiff’s, the judge’s and the sheriff’s; and when he finally turned his face homewards he sat and chuckled.
It was, as usual, a capital dinner at Norby. The old man took a special pleasure in being able to put such silver and wine on his table as none of the other magnates could produce. Both the pork and the wine raised the spirits of the guests, and the old man’s face shone, and grew redder and brighter the more he ate and drank and talked. No mention was made of the great matter itself; but as Norby sat at the head of the table, and drank with one after another down the rows, or with all together, he noted in each glance and smile the very feeling he wished to see, namely: “You’re a jolly good fellow!”
When at last the company were scattered over the two large drawing-rooms with their coffee, the bailiff came and drew him a little aside; and while they stood with their cups at the level of their chests the bailiff told him in a whisper that the judge had received the guarantee document. The bailiff had seen it, and he must say that Norby’s signature was well counterfeited. But Jörgen Haarstad’s! That was too foolish! Haarstad did not write like a copy-book, it is true; but his writing was not so crooked and illegible as all that, that the bailiff could testify.
“You fool!” thought Norby, and drank liqueur with him. “As if men like Haarstad didn’t write their name in a dozen different ways. You are a genius!” But aloud he said: “Have you spoken to Wangen?”