cried. “Don’t say another word until you’ve read them. Talk about adventures ! You have no idea!”
Mats laughed. Anna’s bookcase was a tall, white, ornamental object with carved columns at the corners. Together they went through the shelves, thoroughly, with the short questions and comments people devote to things that really matter. Anna’s shelves held nothing but adventure books – on land, at sea, in balloons, down in the bowels of the earth, and on the deepest ocean floor. Most of the books were very old. Anna’s father had collected them in the course of a long life that in every other respect had been entirely free of irrational fantasies . Anna sometimes thought that, of all the things her father had taught her to respect, this book collection was the best. But it was a shy thought, and she did not allow it to overshadow his other opinions.
When Mats went home with a bundle of books, there had been no discussion of the attic window. He promised to come back the next day with Jimmy’s Adventures in Australia . And Anna had a long phone conversation with the bookshop in town.
* * *
Mats fixed the window and the drain. He shovelled snow and chopped wood and lit fires in Anna’s pretty tile stoves. But usually he just came to borrow books. A cautious, almost timid friendship began to grow between Anna and Mats. They talked only about their books. In tales where the same heroes returned in book after book, they could refer familiarly to Jack or Tom or Jane, who had recently done this or that, as if gossiping in a friendly way about acquaintances. They criticized and praised and were horrified, and they discussed in detail the happy ending with its just division of the inheritance and its wedding and its villain getting his just deserts. Anna read her books afresh, and it seemed suddenly as if she had a large circle of friends, all of whom lived more or less adventuresome lives. She was happier. When Mats came in the evenings, they would drink tea in the kitchen while reading their books and talking about them. If Katri came in, they were quiet and waited for her to leave. The back door would close, and Katri would have gone.
“Does your sister read our books?” Anna wanted to know.
“No. She reads literature.”
“A remarkable woman,” Anna observed. “And on top of that she’s got a head for maths.”
Chapter Ten
T HE FIRST SPRING STORM SWEPT IN FROM THE SEA , a strong warm wind. The snow was already heavy and fragile, and in the stormy forest great clumps of snow fell from the branches, and many branches broke in the moment of their liberation. The whole forest was full of movement. In the evening, Anna walked in under the trees behind the house. She stood for a long time and listened. As always when the landscape readied itself for spring, there was a great unease that Anna recognized and welcomed. As she listened, her rabbit face changed, grew tighter, almost severe. The wind’s assault on the trees produced voices, music, distant cries. Anna nodded to herself. The long spring was just beginning.
Soon she could approach the ground.
* * *
The storm continued the following day. Katri came home and stamped off the snow on the steps. The shop was full of people and smelled sour of sweat and tension. In the sudden silence, Fru Sundblom said, “Well, good afternoon? And how is Miss Aemelin today? No new autographs?”
The storekeeper laughed. Katri walked past them towards the stairs.
“Well, like I said,” said Emil from Husholm, “these are wicked times and it pays to keep an eye out. They can come here, too; it’s not that far. Pretty soon we’ll have to start locking our doors at night.”
“What did the constable say?” Liljeberg wanted to know.
“What would he say? He goes around and asks questions and then he goes home and writes a report. I heard they even took the damper cord.”
“Jesus help us!” Fru Sundblom exclaimed. “And Miss Aemelin, who
Mats laughed. Anna’s bookcase was a tall, white, ornamental object with carved columns at the corners. Together they went through the shelves, thoroughly, with the short questions and comments people devote to things that really matter. Anna’s shelves held nothing but adventure books – on land, at sea, in balloons, down in the bowels of the earth, and on the deepest ocean floor. Most of the books were very old. Anna’s father had collected them in the course of a long life that in every other respect had been entirely free of irrational fantasies . Anna sometimes thought that, of all the things her father had taught her to respect, this book collection was the best. But it was a shy thought, and she did not allow it to overshadow his other opinions.
When Mats went home with a bundle of books, there had been no discussion of the attic window. He promised to come back the next day with Jimmy’s Adventures in Australia . And Anna had a long phone conversation with the bookshop in town.
* * *
Mats fixed the window and the drain. He shovelled snow and chopped wood and lit fires in Anna’s pretty tile stoves. But usually he just came to borrow books. A cautious, almost timid friendship began to grow between Anna and Mats. They talked only about their books. In tales where the same heroes returned in book after book, they could refer familiarly to Jack or Tom or Jane, who had recently done this or that, as if gossiping in a friendly way about acquaintances. They criticized and praised and were horrified, and they discussed in detail the happy ending with its just division of the inheritance and its wedding and its villain getting his just deserts. Anna read her books afresh, and it seemed suddenly as if she had a large circle of friends, all of whom lived more or less adventuresome lives. She was happier. When Mats came in the evenings, they would drink tea in the kitchen while reading their books and talking about them. If Katri came in, they were quiet and waited for her to leave. The back door would close, and Katri would have gone.
“Does your sister read our books?” Anna wanted to know.
“No. She reads literature.”
“A remarkable woman,” Anna observed. “And on top of that she’s got a head for maths.”
Chapter Ten
T HE FIRST SPRING STORM SWEPT IN FROM THE SEA , a strong warm wind. The snow was already heavy and fragile, and in the stormy forest great clumps of snow fell from the branches, and many branches broke in the moment of their liberation. The whole forest was full of movement. In the evening, Anna walked in under the trees behind the house. She stood for a long time and listened. As always when the landscape readied itself for spring, there was a great unease that Anna recognized and welcomed. As she listened, her rabbit face changed, grew tighter, almost severe. The wind’s assault on the trees produced voices, music, distant cries. Anna nodded to herself. The long spring was just beginning.
Soon she could approach the ground.
* * *
The storm continued the following day. Katri came home and stamped off the snow on the steps. The shop was full of people and smelled sour of sweat and tension. In the sudden silence, Fru Sundblom said, “Well, good afternoon? And how is Miss Aemelin today? No new autographs?”
The storekeeper laughed. Katri walked past them towards the stairs.
“Well, like I said,” said Emil from Husholm, “these are wicked times and it pays to keep an eye out. They can come here, too; it’s not that far. Pretty soon we’ll have to start locking our doors at night.”
“What did the constable say?” Liljeberg wanted to know.
“What would he say? He goes around and asks questions and then he goes home and writes a report. I heard they even took the damper cord.”
“Jesus help us!” Fru Sundblom exclaimed. “And Miss Aemelin, who
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