And there was Herr Tyberg, who began life as drummer-boy with the Värmland Regiment and who surely would have killed himself with drink, had not the Lieutenant at Mårbacka, by a mere chance, discovered the man’s special aptitude for teaching small children, and engaged him as tutor for his own little ones, and later found him a position as teacher in the elementary school at East Ämtervik.
Then, there was Jan Asker, who had also been in the regiment band, but who was now church-beadle and grave-digger at East Ämtervik. He came of an old family of musicians, and used to play the clarinet at all the peasant weddings and dances. His was an embittered and restless spirit. The only thing that reconciled him to life was music.
And there was the foundry bookkeeper, Geijer, who lived in the attic of the school building, and kept house for himself. He was passionately fond of music, but being too poor to provide himself with any sort of instrument, he had painted a keyboard on a common deal table, at which he sat and “played.”
Then, too, there was Sexton Melanoz, who had received instruction from Dean Fryxell himself, and could scribble verse, cobble shoes, mend furniture, and run a farm. He was the star entertainer at all the weddings and wakes, and was moreover the best schoolmaster in the whole of Fryksdalen. Every Sunday morning he had to play the wheezy organ at the Ämtervik church, which he never could have endured if he’d not had his violin to console him on Sunday afternoons, for he was a musical soul.
These five had arranged to meet at Mårbacka on a certain day during the Christmas season, while there was still something left of the Christmas ale, the Christmas ham, and spiced bread.
The first to arrive did not go straight to the house, but waited till all were there. Whereupon they fell into line, the Major in the lead, and marched up to the front porch singing Portugal, Spanjen, Stora Britanjen.
Lieutenant Lagerlöf had perhaps some notion as to what was in the air, but he had remained inside so as not to spoil the fun for the guests. But on hearing that song, he jumped up and ran out to greet them. Nor was Colour-Sergeant von Wachenfeldt, who was still at Mårbacka, long to follow.
When the visitors had gone down to the farm-office to remove their pelts and leggings, the Lieutenant sent his two boys, Daniel and Johan, up to the attic to fetch the guitar, the French horn, the flute, and the triangle, while he himself rushed into the bedroom and pulled his violin from under the bed; placing it on a chair, he unlocked the case and reverently uncovered the violin, which lay wrapped in a red silk handkerchief.
Though the Lieutenant himself never smoked or permitted others to smoke in the house, he sent the boys down to the office to fetch the old long-stemmed pipe, which had been there since Pastor Wennervik’s time, and also a little square box filled with tobacco, so that Major Ehrencrona might have his usual smoke, to keep him in good humour.
When the five guests, the Colour-Sergeant, and the Lieutenant went into the living room, when the toddy-tray had been brought, and hot drinks made for all—except Herr Tyberg, of course, who had sworn off for good—and when the major had finally got his pipe to draw, they decided it was not worth while to pass the evening at card-playing or in small-talk, but they would have some music.