I should have known it long ago, but I am old. Perhaps I may add without being misunderstood that the brain withers before the heart. You can see it in all grandparents.
At first I said "Bravo!" to my discovery, "Bravo! Fru Ingeborg," I said, "you are priceless once again!" But human nature is such that I began to feel hurt. How much better it would be to pay for the mare once and for all and depart; I should have been more than pleased to do so. But I should not have succeeded. Nikolai would have shaken his head as though it were a fairy tale. Then I began to calculate that in fact there couldn't be much to pay for the mare now--perhaps nothing, perhaps she was paid for....
Fru Ingeborg labors and slaves--I'm afraid she works too hard. She seldom sits down, though her pregnancy is far advanced now and she needs rest. She makes beds, cooks, sees to the animals, sews, mends, and washes. Often a lock of gray hair falls down on either side of her face, and she is so busy that she lets it hang; it's too short to be fastened back with a pin. But she looks charming and motherly, with her fine skin and her well-shaped mouth; she and the child together are sheer beauty. Of course I help to carry wood and water, but I make more work for her just the same. When I think of that, I grow hot about the ears.
But how could I have imagined that anyone would want to keep me for my own sake? I should not have had all these years too many then, and these ardors too few. A good thing I've found it out at last.
In a way the discovery made it easier for me to leave them, and this--time when I packed my knapsack, I meant it. But at least the child, her boy, had some love for me, and liked to sit on my arm because I showed him so much that was strange. It was the child's instinct for the peerless grandfather.
At about this time, a sister of Fru Ingeborg's came to the farm to help with the housework. I began to pack then; overcome with grief, I packed. To spare Nikolai and the mare, I decided to make my way down to the steamship landing on foot. I shall also arrange to relieve all of us of the need for farewells and handshakes and au revoirs, believe me!
But in spite of my resolution, I could not, after all, avoid taking them both by the hand and thanking them for their hospitality. That was all that was necessary. I stood in the doorway with my knapsack already on my back, smiling a little, and behaving splendidly.
"Yes, indeed," I said, "I must begin to move about again."
"Are you really going?" said Fru Ingeborg.
"Why not?"