He was the only settler in the St. Croix Valley who had remained in his house during the Indian panic those August days. He had kept watch over his wife as long as her life lasted.
XV. THE ASTRAKHAN APPLES ARE RIPE
— 1—
The sun had just risen; it shone through the gable window and slowly searched its way to the bed where Kristina lay. She had opened her eyes. On her forehead near the hairline drops of perspiration glittered; her complexion was refreshed and rosy. Her cheeks blossomed: A young girl’s coloring had returned to her after twenty years.
A moment before she had complained faintly in her sleep. Karl Oskar had picked up a towel and gently dried her moist forehead. When he bent over her, he saw in her eyes that she recognized him. For the first time in three days she knew him again.
Her voice was so low he had to make an effort to catch the words.
“Is it already morning?”
“Yea — but pretty early.”
“So quiet — the others aren’t up yet?”
“No. .”
“The children. . all of them are asleep. .?”
“I think so.”
“Only you up. . already?”
“I have not been in bed.”
“You’ve watched over me?”
“Yes. .”
“How kind of you. I must have slept long. .”
“You have slept a long while.”
“I dreamed I was swinging. . you remember the ox thong I used to put up in the barn at home. .”
The blanket on Kristina’s chest rose and fell in rapid, short movements. Her breathing had been quicker and panting these last days.
“I was at home in the barn, swinging and carrying on. .”
“Can I give you something?”
“Only a mouthful of water. I’m thirsty.”
He held the pitcher to her mouth and she tried to lift her head but it sank down on the pillow again. His left hand steadied her at the back of her head.
She drank slowly, swallow after swallow.
“I can’t swallow very well. .”
A few big drops escaped and ran slowly down her chin; the sun glittered in them. When his hand touched her he felt the glow of fever that burned in her body.
“Thanks, dear Karl Oskar. .”
She made a motion with her shoulders as if wishing to sit up.
“Better lie down, dear. .”
“But I’m not sick. Only mightily tired. .”
“You must rest, you aren’t strong yet. .”
The silence inside was unbroken again, but down in the chicken pen the rooster started his shrill morning crowing. Something dark fluttered past the gable window, wings flapped; a bird had just lighted in the apple tree. The boughs of the Astrakhan tree were loaded down with fruit as big as newborn babies’ heads. Against the dark green leaves the apples shimmered golden-red.
The sun moved and spread its golden squares over Kristina’s blanket. By and by it reached a bottle and a spoon on the table beside the bed. The bottle was empty. It had contained the medicine for childbirth fever.
Every time Karl Oskar moved on his chair he was conscious of a fatigue from his long lack of sleep which threatened to close his eyes.
Suddenly Kristina put out her hand and fumbled for support.
“I’m falling! Hold onto me!”
“Don’t be afraid — you’re safe in your bed.”
But her fingers clasped his anxiously.
“The thong! The swing! I’m falling out!”
“It’s all right. Nothing to be afraid of. .”
“Karl Oskar! Please. . hold me. . hold. .!”
She tried to raise herself in the bed. He took her by the shoulders, helped her to lie down again, and comforted her.
— 2—
Once again Kristina is thrown by the swing she has made of the ox thong in the barn at home in Duvemåla.
She swings from floor to ceiling, from ceiling to floor again. She rides up and down in the thong, she feels dizzy and cries out in fear and joy. She is playful and giddy and happy, like other young girls. She skips lightly on her feet, she plays and carries on and enjoys herself while youth is still in her body. Soon enough she will grow old and heavy on her feet, and then she can no longer ride a swing.
But she is thrown high, so high — far, far away from her father’s barn. Frightened to the bottom of her heart she looks about and does not recognize her surroundings. She is not swinging in the ox thong any more, she is on a ship, sailing on a great water, and on that ship she is thrown up and down through the air. She is on an ocean with high waves, and the waves lift her heavenward and lower her into the depths. She flies through the air, she is flung into the black abyss, she is dizzy again and cries out. But she is entirely alone out on the sea, no one hears her cries, no one answers her, no one comes to help her.
Where is Karl Oskar? Why doesn’t he hear? Why doesn’t he come and help her away from here? What’s she doing here on a ship anyway? Why did she go to the sea?
It was Karl Oskar who wanted it. She must go with him, he didn’t give up until she promised. She didn’t want to, but a wife must do what her husband wants.
The swing slows down, and she gets off again. She is a wife, a mother, a woman who bears children. She has returned from her journey. She is already old. Karl Oskar and she have been married for many years, and she is a tired and aged woman. She’ll never be able to swing in the barn again. She has been through many childbeds, she has borne living children and dead. Once she carried a child without life in it which Karl Oskar buried somewhere out in the woods, she doesn’t know where.
But now once more she must go through it, one childbed more, but only one more. She will survive her tenth childbed. And then. .!
Then — oh, then she’ll rest, rest till she gets rid of her immense tiredness. To lie still, sleep! To sink down in wonderful, sweet sleep! If she only could rest all she wished, then she would get well again. Then she would pull through. There is no cure for her other than this: sleep, sleep!
— 3—
For a long time she had been in a coma but kept her hand about his fingers. He had been sitting without making any motion. Consciousness left her one moment and came back the next, but for three days it had not been with her long enough for him to talk to her as he had wished. There was something very important he wanted to tell his wife, something he wanted to ask her. During all the time he had been watching at her bed he had had the words on his tongue, in his thoughts he had spoken them innumerable times, mumbled them to himself, whispered them, stammered them:
Don’t die and leave me! Stay with me yet!
It was she herself he wanted to ask. Unlike Kristina he could not ask another One.
Beads of perspiration appeared on her fever-sick forehead, and he dried them as lightly, as gently as he could. But she felt his touch and opened her eyes. She spoke as if short of breath:
“You’re here, Karl Oskar. .?”
“I guess I woke you.”
“I fainted away. Did I cry some. .?”
“Not a sound.”
“I have no pain any more.”
“But you’re weak.”
“I’ll pull through. All I need is enough sleep.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Don’t worry! But you must need some sleep yourself, Karl Oskar!”
“Forget about me!”
“You’re black under the eyes. You’ve been up watching me. You’ve worn yourself out!”
“It’s nothing.”
She was short of breath from her effort to speak. The movements under the blanket increased.
When her fast breathing subsided somewhat, she resumed:
“I am really better!”