filled the heart with disquiet and made one feel on tenterhooks.
“ ‘I, Eberhard Julius, first saw the light of this world in the year 1706, during the great eclipse which filled my father, who was a wealthy merchant, and other people, with great fear.’ ”
There were footsteps downstairs and she suddenly stopped reading without going any farther. She had the kind of face that has fat cheeks and impersonal eyes that make very little effort to think and very little effort to dare, and there is some hidden master in the soul who slams the door and forestalls any decision when it comes to the bit, so that apathy settles over the flesh once again, humdrum and hopeless.
“God help me, I must be out of my mind!” she said, and shut the book and looked at the covers for a moment in panic, as if it were a book of witchcraft; then she thrust it hastily under her apron and went away.
Next day when he mentioned the book again, she became angry.
“Hold your tongue or I’ll tell my mother on you!” she said.
He did not know what he had done, but he had no doubt it was something wicked, and he was afraid. But soon he had other matters to think about. His foster mother, Kamarilla, handed him his rags the next day, all newly washed and the stockings darned; when he fainted she laid a cold cloth on his brow and helped him to his feet. The brothers had gone to the fishing; there could be no more lying in bed now. A few days later they began to rouse him to go out to the barn. The water-carrying started again, and the water splashed over his feet. There were the usual storms at Easter. Kristjána and Karítas told his foster mother that he was always shirking; but sometimes Kristjána secretly gave him a morsel of brown-sugar candy warm from her bosom.
Magnína said nothing—for a long time.
5
Winter was almost over. The brothers were away from home all week, and so the boy was not subjected to the usual beatings and abuse. But sometimes they came home on Saturday nights, particularly if the weather were bad, and then they were usually drunk; so the boy preferred to linger in the barn as long as he possibly could, watering the cows over and over again. On Sunday mornings the brothers had a long lie, each in his own bed on either side of the loft, and talked together in an obscene language of their own from under the bedclothes. They laughed a lot, and their laughter seemed to come from deep down in their throats, or even deeper. Kristjána often had occasion to slip up to the loft during these morning devotions. When she walked between the beds, the brothers always stuck their legs out from under the bedclothes to try to trip her up; she always let out piercing shrieks as if she were in dire peril. The brothers enjoyed this hugely, but if the boy were nearby and saw and heard what was going on, he could not help taking the girl’s side in his mind, even though she was so seldom on his side. But though the girl shrieked, she was not too afraid to have a go at their legs in turn, and either she won or lost and then slipped downstairs again crimson in the face; but it was not long before she had found urgent cause to go back up to the loft again.
One Sunday morning, as so often before, the younger brother, Júst, stuck his leg up under her skirts and she let out a loud shriek, and her skirts went up past her knees.
But this time the elder brother, Jónas, said, “What the devil are you doing with your leg up her skirts?”
“Take it easy, brother,” said Júst.
“You’ve no right to put your leg up her skirts, I tell you! Remove it at once!”
Young Kristjána went on shrieking at intervals, until the elder brother, Jónas, got out of bed, fastened his underpants, and rescued her. And then the fight started. The brothers did not fight very often, but when they did, it was in grim earnest. They fought just as they were when they jumped out of bed, rather scantily clad. The girl retreated halfway down the stairs and
“ ‘I, Eberhard Julius, first saw the light of this world in the year 1706, during the great eclipse which filled my father, who was a wealthy merchant, and other people, with great fear.’ ”
There were footsteps downstairs and she suddenly stopped reading without going any farther. She had the kind of face that has fat cheeks and impersonal eyes that make very little effort to think and very little effort to dare, and there is some hidden master in the soul who slams the door and forestalls any decision when it comes to the bit, so that apathy settles over the flesh once again, humdrum and hopeless.
“God help me, I must be out of my mind!” she said, and shut the book and looked at the covers for a moment in panic, as if it were a book of witchcraft; then she thrust it hastily under her apron and went away.
Next day when he mentioned the book again, she became angry.
“Hold your tongue or I’ll tell my mother on you!” she said.
He did not know what he had done, but he had no doubt it was something wicked, and he was afraid. But soon he had other matters to think about. His foster mother, Kamarilla, handed him his rags the next day, all newly washed and the stockings darned; when he fainted she laid a cold cloth on his brow and helped him to his feet. The brothers had gone to the fishing; there could be no more lying in bed now. A few days later they began to rouse him to go out to the barn. The water-carrying started again, and the water splashed over his feet. There were the usual storms at Easter. Kristjána and Karítas told his foster mother that he was always shirking; but sometimes Kristjána secretly gave him a morsel of brown-sugar candy warm from her bosom.
Magnína said nothing—for a long time.
5
Winter was almost over. The brothers were away from home all week, and so the boy was not subjected to the usual beatings and abuse. But sometimes they came home on Saturday nights, particularly if the weather were bad, and then they were usually drunk; so the boy preferred to linger in the barn as long as he possibly could, watering the cows over and over again. On Sunday mornings the brothers had a long lie, each in his own bed on either side of the loft, and talked together in an obscene language of their own from under the bedclothes. They laughed a lot, and their laughter seemed to come from deep down in their throats, or even deeper. Kristjána often had occasion to slip up to the loft during these morning devotions. When she walked between the beds, the brothers always stuck their legs out from under the bedclothes to try to trip her up; she always let out piercing shrieks as if she were in dire peril. The brothers enjoyed this hugely, but if the boy were nearby and saw and heard what was going on, he could not help taking the girl’s side in his mind, even though she was so seldom on his side. But though the girl shrieked, she was not too afraid to have a go at their legs in turn, and either she won or lost and then slipped downstairs again crimson in the face; but it was not long before she had found urgent cause to go back up to the loft again.
One Sunday morning, as so often before, the younger brother, Júst, stuck his leg up under her skirts and she let out a loud shriek, and her skirts went up past her knees.
But this time the elder brother, Jónas, said, “What the devil are you doing with your leg up her skirts?”
“Take it easy, brother,” said Júst.
“You’ve no right to put your leg up her skirts, I tell you! Remove it at once!”
Young Kristjána went on shrieking at intervals, until the elder brother, Jónas, got out of bed, fastened his underpants, and rescued her. And then the fight started. The brothers did not fight very often, but when they did, it was in grim earnest. They fought just as they were when they jumped out of bed, rather scantily clad. The girl retreated halfway down the stairs and
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