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  When the time came for cakes Miss Jensen became quite lively. Like a child, she nodded to herself in the mirror and said, “Cheers”.

  Miss Jensen was wearing a new chignon that she had treated herself to for Christmas. Her hair was now in three different shades.

  Bit by bit, Miss Jensen became rather happy.

  After the meal, while the candles were being lit on the tree, Bentzen tried to play leapfrog with Marie the maid out in the kitchen.

  Katinka went quietly around and took her time in lighting the candles. She probably also wanted to be on her own for a while.

  “I wonder whether Huus has received our parcel,” she said. She was standing on a chair, using a wax candle to do the lighting.

  At the last moment she took a muslin scarf from her table, it was one she had received from a sister, and put it among Miss Jensen’s presents. There were so few in her place; she was sharing the sofa with Wee Bentzen.

  Katinka opened the door to the office, and they came in to see the tree.

  They went around and looked at their presents, saying thank you for them and looking slightly embarrassed. Miss Jensen took out some small tissue paper packages from the splint basket and distributed them.

  Marie the maid came in wearing a white apron. She went around with her own presents in her arms and felt the various objects scattered round about.

  The eight o’clock train was dispatched, and they were again in the sitting room. The candles on the tree were still burning over in the corner.

  It was very warm and stuffy in there because of the candles on the tree.

  Bai made a show of fighting with sleep and said, “One is soon check-mated by all this festivity, Miss Jensen. All this Christmas jollification is pretty tiring.”

  They were all sleepy and were eying the clock. The two ladies insisted on talking about the presents again and saying how good the work on them was.

  “I think I’ll go and reflect a little on the state of the world,” said Bai. He escaped into the office. Wee Bentzen sat sleeping in a chair beneath the pipe rack.

  The two ladies were left alone. They sat in a corner near the piano, in front of the tree, and were very sleepy.

  They had been dozing for a time and suddenly jumped up in alarm at the sound of crackling in the tree. A branch had caught fire.

  “It won’t burn much longer now,” said Katinka as she put out the fire.

  The candles started to burn out one by one, and the tree grew dark. They sat there, quite awake again, looking at the darkening tree, there were just a couple of candles left burning low.

  They were both overcome by the same quiet sense of melancholy as they looked at these last little candles. It was as though they only served to emphasize the dark, dead tree.

  Miss Jensen started to speak. Katinka scarcely heard at first what it was she was saying, deeply absorbed in her own thoughts about the family at home and about Huus.

  Katinka did not know why she had been thinking so much about Huus throughout the evening. He had been in her thoughts all the time.

  All the time.

  She nodded to Miss Jensen and pretended she was listening.

  Miss Jensen was talking about her youth and suddenly plunged into telling the story of her love. She was already well into her account when Katinka became aware of it and she was surprised that Miss Jensen came to talk about it now and to her.

  It was quite a simple story about unrequited love. She had believed it was her who was the focus of affection, and then it turned out to be her friend.

  Miss Jensen spoke quietly, all the time in the same hushed voice. She had her handkerchief out and occasionally she would sniff a little and dab her cheeks with it.

  Katinka gradually became rather moved. Then she thought of how this wrinkled little person would have looked as a young woman. Perhaps after all she had had a neat little figure.

  And there she sat now, deserted and alone.

  Katinka was quite affected, and she took Miss Jensen’s hands and gently patted them.

  The caresses made the old woman weep still more. Katinka continued to pat her hands.

  The last stumps of candle burned down, and the Christmas tree stood there quite dark.

  “And a maiden lady has to get through life,” said Miss Jensen, “Whatever traps are put before her.”

  Miss Jensen was back on the subject of the parson and his “words”.

  Katinka released Miss Jensen’s hand. She felt it had grown quite cold and unpleasant around the tree now the candles had died.

  Bai opened the door to the brightly lit office. A messenger had arrived on horseback bringing a parcel from Huus.

  “Lanterns, Marie,” shouted Katinka, running into the office with the parcel.

  It was a very finely woven shawl with gold threads in it, a big one that could be folded tight and almost into nothing.

  Katinka remained standing there with the shawl. She was so pleased with it. She had had one quite similar to this, and a couple of weeks ago she had had an accident and burnt it.

  But this one was much more splendid.

  And she continued to stand there holding the shawl.

  Bai was in a merry mood again. He had had a sleep and got over the dinner, and they all had some real rum in their tea.

  Wee Bentzen became so high spirited that he ran over to his room and fetched some poems he had written down on a variety of paper scraps, the backs of old price lists and bills.

  He read aloud so that Bai had to slap his thighs and roar with laughter. Katinka sat smiling, wrapped in Huus’ splendid shawl.

  Miss Jensen finally played a Tyrolean waltz, and Wee Bentzen rushed into the kitchen, just a little embarrassed, and waltzed around so eagerly with Marie that she gave a little shriek.

  They all had to help to wake Bel-Ami up again when Miss Jensen was to leave; he simply refused to leave his rug. Bai trod on its stub of a tail when Miss Jensen turned away.

  Wee Bentzen was to take her home, but Miss Jensen, who was as scared as could be of the dark, insisted on going alone.

  Miss Jensen refused to carry her Bel-Ami when anyone was watching.

  They all went with her as far as the platform gate and shouted “Happy Christmas”, “Happy Christmas” over the hedge.

  Bel-Ami set up a howl on the snow-covered road. He refused to move.

  When Miss Jensen was sure they had all gone inside, she bent down and took Bel-Ami up in her arms.

  Miss Jensen was wrapped up like an Eskimo woman as she walked home that Christmas night.

  Katinka opened the windows to the living room, letting in the piercing cold air.

  “Hmm, that little fraud knows how to put it on,” said Bai. He felt a measure of benevolent pleasure at having had little Miss Jensen there this evening.

  “The poor little thing,” said Katinka. She remained at the window, looking out across the white field into the night.

  “No one would think you were complaining of a cough,” said Bai. He closed the door to the bedroom.

  Bentzen went over the platform to his room.

  “She carried the pug,” he said. He had hidden behind the hedge to see this event. “Happy Christmas, Madam.”

  “Happy Christmas, Bentzen .”

  A couple of doors were closed, and then all was quite silent.

  Just occasionally there was a fine humming sound in the telegraph wires.

  Katinka was outside feeding the pigeons before going to church. The air was clear and there was no sign of a breeze, and the bells could be heard from the other side of the woods. All around in the white fields, the farmers could be seen trudging to church in single file along paths that had been cleared of snow.

  They waited together outside the church, wishing each other a Happy Christmas. The women touched the tips of each other’s gloves and spoke in whispers.

  Then they stood in silence and looked at each other until someone else joined the group.

  The Bais were rather late a
nd the church was full. Katinka nodded “Happy Christmas” to Huus, who was standing close to the door, and went up to her place.

  She shared a pew with the Abels, just behind the minister’s family.

  The Abel chicks were hidden in veils and fantastic lacework.

  Mrs Linde had eyes in the back of her head on the major offertory days. She dressed herself and her daughter suitably on the days when there was a collection for the clergy.

  Her daughter never went to church on the days when “the plate was passed round”.

  They sang the old Christmas hymns, and bit by bit they all joined in, big and small. The vaulting was filled with an ample happy sound. The wintry sun shone in through the windows on to the white walls. Old Linde preached on the shepherds in the fields and the people for whom a Saviour was born this day, speaking in quiet, simple words so that it was as though the peace of simplicity descended on his church.

  Katinka fell into a Christmas mood as the long procession to make the offerings slowly moved around the altar. The men walked stiffly, tramping heavily on the tiles and returned to their seats with completely expressionless faces.

  The women sat shuffling a little, embarrassed and red-faced, their eyes stiffly directed towards the folded cloth.

  Mrs Linde had her eyes on people’s hands at the altar.

  Mrs Linde had been a parson’s wife for thirty-five years and had sat through countless offertory days. She could see from their hands what sort of contribution everyone was making.

  Hands moved differently on coming out of pockets according to whether they were giving a small or a larger amount.

  Mrs Linde estimated the offerings to be average this year.

  The Bais met Huus outside the church. People were catching their breath out in the fresh air, and once more everyone wished everyone else a happy Christmas.

  The minister came with the offertory money tied up in a handkerchief and everyone greeted him and curtseyed. “Well, Miss Jensen, I suppose we must all wish each other a happy Christmas,” said the “old minister”.

  Katinka went out through the churchyard gate together with Huus. Bai stayed behind for a while with Kiær, so the two of them walked down the road alone together.

  The sun was shining on the glistening fields; farms here and there had their flag flying high up on the flagpoles.

  Churchgoers were drifting off home here and there together.

  Katinka could still hear the hymns ringing in her ears, and she felt it all as a happy, solemn occasion.

  “Christmas is a nice time,” she said.

  “Yes,” he replied, putting all his conviction into that one word, “yes”.

  “And he also preached quite well,” he added shortly afterwards.

  “Yes,” said Katinka, “it was a really nice sermon.”

  They walked on a little.

  “But, you know, I haven’t thanked you for the shawl,” Katinka said.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “But yes, of course… I was so delighted. I had one almost like it and had managed to burn it badly.”

  “Yes, I know… You were wearing it the day I arrived.”

  Katinka was on the point of saying, “How did you notice that?” But she refrained. Nor did she know why she suddenly blushed and for the first time noted that they were walking along without saying anything and tried to find something with which to break the silence.

  They came down to the woods, and the bell from the chapel of ease rang out. It was as though the bells simply refused to stop ringing today.

  “You will come in, won’t you,” said Katinka. “That will let Christmas into the house.”

  They stood on the platform and listened to the bells while waiting for Bai.

  Huus spent the rest of the day there.

  When Bai sat down at a table resplendent with its damask cloth and an array of glass plates, he said, “Aye, it’s nice to have your family round you.”

  Wee Bentzen shouted, “Yes, it is,” and laughed delightedly.

  Huus said nothing. As Katinka said, he simply sat there and looked so content.

  And throughout the day it was as though the house was suffused with a quiet happiness.

  That evening, they played whist. Wee Bentzen was the fourth hand.

  In the parsonage, they counted the offertory money. Mrs Linde was disappointed. The offerings were far less than average.

  “What is the reason for it, Linde?” she asked.

  The minister sat looking pensively at the large number of small coins.

  “The reason for it? These people think we can live like the lilies of the field.”

  Mrs Linde paused for a moment and then for the last time counted the number of krone coins.

  “With a family,” concluded Mrs Linde.

  “Well, my dear,” said old Linde, “let us at least be grateful for the fact that the price of corn has risen, that after all is what the tithes are based on.”

  The parson’s daughter and Mr Andersen the curate were having fun overturning the furniture in the hall: they were playing indoor croquet.

  “I’m keeping out of mother’s way,” said Miss Agnes. “All her less noble qualities are in turmoil on the big offertory days.”

  Christmas came and went.

  Katinka thought that she could not recall having such a lovely, homely Christmas like this for a long time, not since she was at home. Not that anything special happened, nothing more than usual; they visited the Lindes together with Huus and a couple of other people, and Miss Linde and the curate came to them one evening with Kiær and Huus. The Misses Abel were there for the afternoon train and they were also invited inside. And after the eight o’clock train they danced in the waiting room and sang a few songs as well.

  There was nothing special. But it was as though everything had gone off so happily.

  The only person to upset things a little was Huus. He had frequently of late just sat dozing.

  “Huus,” said Katinka. “Are you asleep?”

  Huus started as he sat there.

  Bai was captured by the general sense of contentment in the house.

  “I must say the weather makes a hell of a lot of difference,” he said, standing on the platform after seeing the afternoon train off; “I’m feeling fine at the moment – damned fine, amazingly fine.”

  And during these days their entire marriage seemed as if it had been moved years back in time. Not in any insistent or excited manner, but in a way that was both intimate and cheerful.

  It was approaching midnight on New Year’s Eve. The Bais were up to let in the New Year.

  A great banging was heard on the paling.

  “What the hell,” said Bai. It gave a shock to both him and Bentzen, who were playing cards, “There was no need for Peter to make such a din.”

  Someone knocked on the window, and Huus’ voice could be heard shouting, “Happy New Year.”

  “What the Devil – is it Huus?” said Bai, getting up.

  “That was my first thought,” said Katinka. The din had given her palpitations.

  Bai went out and opened up. Huus was in a sleigh.

  “Good heavens,” said Bai. “Won’t you come in and have a drink.”

  “Good evening, Huus,” Katinka came into the doorway. “We’re having a drink to welcome the New Year.”

  They tethered the horse in the storehouse, and Katinka gave it some bread.

  They drank to the New Year and decided they would stay up until the night train went by. That would be at two o’clock.

  “Play us a tune, Tik,” said Bai.

  Katinka played a polka, and Bai hummed along with her.

  “Aye,” he said, “I was a good dancer in my day, wasn’t I Tik?” He tickled her neck.

  They went out onto the platform. The sky was dark for the first time for ages.

  “There’s more snow on the way,” said Bai. He took a little loose snow and rubbed it in Wee Bentzen’s face. The result was a momentary ge
neral scuffle.

  “There he is,” said Bai. They could hear the distant rumble of the train.

  “It’s damned dark tonight, though,” said Bai.

  The noise came closer. Now the engine was rumbling across the bridge. The tiny light came closer and grew bigger; then the engine emerged suddenly from the darkness like some huge, bright-eyed beast.

  And they all four stood still while it quickly rattled past. Steam rose from the track while lights from the coaches reflected across the snow.

  It rattled away, off into the darkness.

  “Hmm,” said Katinka. “That’s the way we greet the New Year.” They had stood silent for a time.

  She leant against her husband and stroked her hair against his cheek.

  Bai was also moved by the situation. He bent down and kissed her.

  The train could be heard rumbling far away. They all turned round and went inside.

  Huus was hard on the horse as he drove home in the sleigh. He lashed it cruelly and swore at it for good measure.

  It was dark and a gale was approaching.

  Katinka could not sleep. She woke Bai.

  “Bai,” she said.

  “What is it?” Bai turned over.

  “It’s dreadful weather…”

  “Well, we’re not at sea, are we,” said Bai, half asleep.

  “But it’s drifting so,” said Katinka. “Do you think Huus has got home by now, Bai?”

  “Oh, good Lord…”

  Bai went back to sleep.

  But Katinka did not sleep. She was worried about Huus on his way home in that weather. It was so dark and when all was said and done, he was new to the area.

  How strange it was to think that it was only thirteen months since Huus had arrived.

  Katinka wondered whether he really was home by now. She listened to the wind again; it was growing stronger. And he had been sad this evening, just sitting there – she knew him – and looking dejected. There must be something wrong.

  There had been something wrong with him recently.

  But would he have reached home by now? The weather was getting worse.

  Katinka dropped off and fell asleep beside her husband.

  On the second of January there was a party at the parsonage.