Victoria (Sverre Lyngstad 2005 Translation) by Knut Hamsun

Victoria (Sverre Lyngstad 2005 Translation) by Knut Hamsun

Author:Knut Hamsun [Hamsun, Knut]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature
ISBN: 9781101161593
Publisher: Penguin Group
Published: 1898-01-01T16:00:00+00:00


Again weeks and months went by and spring came around. The snow was already gone, and the expanse of space, from the sun to the moon, resounded with a roar as of released waters. The swallows had come back, and in the woods outside the city there awakened a bustling life of all kinds of jumping creatures, and of birds chirping in strange tongues. A fresh, sweetish smell rose from the earth.

Johannes’ work has occupied him all winter. The dry branches of the poplars had creaked against the wall like a sailor’s chantey night and day; now spring has come, the storms are past, and the stamping mill has ground to a halt.

He opens the window and looks out; the street is already quiet though it’s not yet midnight, the stars twinkle from a cloudless sky: tomorrow promises to be a clear, warm day. He can hear the rumble of the city, which mingles with the ceaseless roar from afar. Suddenly there is the piercing sound of a railroad whistle, the signal of the night train; it sounds like a lone cock crow in the silent night. The time has come for work—this train whistle has been like a signal to him all winter.

And he closes the window and sits down at the table again. He tosses aside the books he has been reading and gets out his papers. He picks up his pen.

His long work is nearly finished, only the concluding chapter is lacking, a sort of salute from a departing ship, and it is already there, in his head:A gentleman sits in a wayside inn; he is just passing through on a long, long journey. His hair and beard are gray, the years have left their mark on him; but he’s still big and strong and hardly as old as he looks. His carriage is outside, the horses are resting, the coachman is happy and contented; he has been wined and dined by the stranger. When the gentleman checks in, the innkeeper recognizes his name and bows to him, doing him great honor. Who lives at the Castle now? the gentleman asks. The captain, the innkeeper replies, he’s very rich; the lady is kind to everyone. To everyone? the gentleman asks himself, smiling mysteriously, even to me? And he starts writing something on a piece of paper, and when it’s finished he reads it through; it’s a poem, serene and sad, but with many bitter words. Afterward, however, he tears the paper up, and he continues to sit there tearing the paper up even more. Then there is a knock on his door and a woman dressed in yellow enters. She lifts her veil, it’s the mistress of the Castle, Lady Victoria. She has a majestic air about her. The gentleman rises abruptly, his dark soul illumined as by a spear fisher’s flash the same instant. You are so kind to all, he says bitterly, you even come to me. Instead of answering, she simply stands there gazing at him, her face turning crimson.



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