“You have been living in hell, Herman,” he said. “It has got on your nerves.” (Yes, Peter had actually found out that there were such things as nerves.) “You must take care of yourself, sleep, amuse yourself, go sailing. Lundbom looks after the business. He is a magician, old Lundbom.”
“As if it helped to sail,” muttered Herman, as gloomy as the Flying Dutchman.
But he did go sailing, anyhow, and Peter went too, and did not let go of his dear Herman. And when now after long stormy cruises out to sea, they had dropped their hook far out in a fine night harbour under some rugged cliff and the waves roared on the pebbles on the shore and the crescent moon shone over the sea, whilst the evening sky hung green and cold over the long ragged forest edges in the west, then they both revelled in a beautiful and romantic hatred of the town, its dirt and stuffiness and humbug and misery. It was a most beautiful accord between shyness, laziness and weakness on the one hand and instinctive, furtive, self-interest on the other. To Herman the town meant rubbish, masons, walls scrawled all over, insidious threats against the idyls of his childhood. But it also meant his great smouldering trouble, neglected duties and a bad conscience. For Peter on the other hand the town meant ten thousand possibilities and the fine opportunities which Herman must not suspect. He liked to finish off his exhortation with little edifying stories, terrifying little accounts of the cursed banks.
“Yes, beware of the banks, Herman,” he exclaimed. “Bills here and bills there and not a moment’s peace. One fine day they get you into their clutches and then you have to say good-bye to everything. But we will defend ourselves, old boy. We know a few little tricks, we rustics too, now don’t we? If you get into difficulties don’t make them offers. There is nothing so dangerous as to make them offers. No, you come to Peter the Boss and he will stand by you. Not an inch shall they have of Ekbacken and Selambshof.”
Herman sat there eating his tinned food, half touched, half suspicious.
“Yes, but you have already sold some of it.”
Peter smiled a superior smile:
“Don’t you understand. I tricked them, tricked those town scoundrels splendidly. Sold away the rubbish heap in order to sit more securely in the Castle.”
There Herman had got something to sleep on. And in fact he did sleep better than usual. It was as if Peter had lifted the worries from off his back and taken them on his own broad shoulders.
Peter also snored soundly. He had not by any means done everything he might have done to ensure and isolate his victim. Never! he who liked Herman so much! No, he had only been jolly decent and said what he knew Herman liked to hear.