POULTRY MEG'S FAMILY [3]
He was tall and strong, and boasted of this when they talked
together. He could have measured himself against the deceased Mr.
Brockenhuus, of Egeskov, of whom the people still talked. Palle Dyre
had, after the example of Brockenhuus, caused an iron chain with a
hunting-horn to be hung in his gateway; and when he came riding
home, he used to seize the chain, and lift himself and his horse
from the ground, and blow the horn.
"Come yourself, and see me do that, Dame Marie," he said. 'One can
breathe fresh and free at Norrebak.
When she went to his castle is not known, but on the altar
candlestick in the church of Norrebak it was inscribed that they
were the gift of Palle Dyre and Marie Grubbe, of Norrebak Castle.
A great stout man was Palle Dyre. He drank like a sponge. He was
like a tub that could never get full; he snored like a whole sty of
pigs, and he looked red and bloated.
"He is treacherous and malicious," said Dame Pally Dyre,
Grubbe's daughter. Soon she was weary of her life with him, but that
did not make it better.
One day the table was spread, and the dishes grew cold. Palle Dyre
was out hunting foxes, and the gracious lady was nowhere to be
found. Towards midnight Palle Dyre came home, but Dame Dyre came
neither at midnight, nor next morning. She had turned her back upon
Norrebak, and had ridden away without saying good-bye.
It was gray, wet weather; the wind grew cold, and a flight of
black screaming birds flew over her head. They were not so homeless as
she.
First she journeyed southward, quite down into the German land.
A couple of golden rings with costly stones were turned into money;
and then she turned to the east, and then she turned again and went
towards the west. She had no food before her eyes, and murmured
against everything, even against the good God himself, so wretched was
her soul. Soon her body became wretched too, and she was scarcely able
to move a foot. The peewit flew up as she stumbled over the mound of
earth where it had built its nest. The bird cried, as it always cried,
"You thief! you thief!" She had never stolen her neighbor's goods; but
as a little girl she had caused eggs and young birds to be taken
from the trees, and she thought of that now.
From where she lay she could see the sand-dunes. By the seashore
lived fishermen; but she could not get so far, she was so ill. The
great white sea-mews flew over her head, and screamed as the crows and
daws screamed at home in the garden of the manor house. The birds flew
quite close to her, and at last it seemed to her as if they became
black as crows, and then all was night before her eyes.
When she opened her eyes again, she was being lifted and
carried. A great strong man had taken her up in his arms, and she
was looking straight into his bearded face. He had a scar over one
eye, which seemed to divide the eyebrow into two parts. Weak as she
was, he carried her to the ship, where he got a rating for it from the
captain.
The next day the ship sailed away. Madame Grubbe had not been
put ashore, so she sailed away with it. But she will return, will
she not? Yes, but where, and when?
The clerk could tell about this too, and it was not a story
which he patched together himself. He had the whole strange history
out of an old authentic book, which we ourselves can take out and
read. The Danish historian, Ludwig Holberg, who has written so many
useful books and merry comedies, from which we can get such a good
idea of his times and their people, tells in his letters of Marie
Grubbe, where and how he met her. It is well worth hearing; but for
all that, we don't at all forget Poultry Meg, who is sitting
cheerful and comfortable in the charming fowl-house.
The ship sailed away with Marie Grubbe. That's where we left off.
Long years went by.
The plague was raging at Copenhagen; it was in the year 1711.
The Queen of Denmark went away to her German home, the King quitted
together. He could have measured himself against the deceased Mr.
Brockenhuus, of Egeskov, of whom the people still talked. Palle Dyre
had, after the example of Brockenhuus, caused an iron chain with a
hunting-horn to be hung in his gateway; and when he came riding
home, he used to seize the chain, and lift himself and his horse
from the ground, and blow the horn.
"Come yourself, and see me do that, Dame Marie," he said. 'One can
breathe fresh and free at Norrebak.
When she went to his castle is not known, but on the altar
candlestick in the church of Norrebak it was inscribed that they
were the gift of Palle Dyre and Marie Grubbe, of Norrebak Castle.
A great stout man was Palle Dyre. He drank like a sponge. He was
like a tub that could never get full; he snored like a whole sty of
pigs, and he looked red and bloated.
"He is treacherous and malicious," said Dame Pally Dyre,
Grubbe's daughter. Soon she was weary of her life with him, but that
did not make it better.
One day the table was spread, and the dishes grew cold. Palle Dyre
was out hunting foxes, and the gracious lady was nowhere to be
found. Towards midnight Palle Dyre came home, but Dame Dyre came
neither at midnight, nor next morning. She had turned her back upon
Norrebak, and had ridden away without saying good-bye.
It was gray, wet weather; the wind grew cold, and a flight of
black screaming birds flew over her head. They were not so homeless as
she.
First she journeyed southward, quite down into the German land.
A couple of golden rings with costly stones were turned into money;
and then she turned to the east, and then she turned again and went
towards the west. She had no food before her eyes, and murmured
against everything, even against the good God himself, so wretched was
her soul. Soon her body became wretched too, and she was scarcely able
to move a foot. The peewit flew up as she stumbled over the mound of
earth where it had built its nest. The bird cried, as it always cried,
"You thief! you thief!" She had never stolen her neighbor's goods; but
as a little girl she had caused eggs and young birds to be taken
from the trees, and she thought of that now.
From where she lay she could see the sand-dunes. By the seashore
lived fishermen; but she could not get so far, she was so ill. The
great white sea-mews flew over her head, and screamed as the crows and
daws screamed at home in the garden of the manor house. The birds flew
quite close to her, and at last it seemed to her as if they became
black as crows, and then all was night before her eyes.
When she opened her eyes again, she was being lifted and
carried. A great strong man had taken her up in his arms, and she
was looking straight into his bearded face. He had a scar over one
eye, which seemed to divide the eyebrow into two parts. Weak as she
was, he carried her to the ship, where he got a rating for it from the
captain.
The next day the ship sailed away. Madame Grubbe had not been
put ashore, so she sailed away with it. But she will return, will
she not? Yes, but where, and when?
The clerk could tell about this too, and it was not a story
which he patched together himself. He had the whole strange history
out of an old authentic book, which we ourselves can take out and
read. The Danish historian, Ludwig Holberg, who has written so many
useful books and merry comedies, from which we can get such a good
idea of his times and their people, tells in his letters of Marie
Grubbe, where and how he met her. It is well worth hearing; but for
all that, we don't at all forget Poultry Meg, who is sitting
cheerful and comfortable in the charming fowl-house.
The ship sailed away with Marie Grubbe. That's where we left off.
Long years went by.
The plague was raging at Copenhagen; it was in the year 1711.
The Queen of Denmark went away to her German home, the King quitted