O. T., A Danish Romance

That which Otto desired was, that Wilhelm should now soon go to sleep, and, therefore, he would not contradict him; he confessed even that the young wife was handsome, but added that she, as Peter Cripple’s wife, was to him like a beautiful flower upon which a toad had set itself,—it would be disgusting to him to press the flower to his lips.

The friends were soon in bed. They bade each other good night, and seemed both of them to sleep; and with Wilhelm this was the case.

Otto lay awake; his pulse throbbed violently.

Now the great hall clock struck twelve. All was still, quite still; but Otto did not yet dare to raise himself. It struck a quarter past the hour. He raised himself slowly, and glanced toward the bed where Wilhelm lay. Otto arose and dressed himself, suppressing the while his very breathing. A hunting-knife which hung upon the wall, and which belonged to Wilhelm, he put in his pocket; and lifted up, to take with him, the fire-tongs, with which he intended to break the iron staple that held the padlock. Yet once more he looked toward Wilhelm, who slept soundly. He opened the door, and went out without his shoes.

He looked out from the passage-windows to see if lights were visible from any part of the building. All was still; all was in repose. That which he now feared most was, that one of the dogs might be lying in the lobby, and should begin to bark. But there was not one. He mounted up the steps, and went into the upper story.

Only once before had he been there; now all was in darkness. He felt with his hands before him as he went.

At length he found a narrow flight of stairs which led into a yet higher story. The opening at the top was closed, and he was obliged to use his whole strength to open it. At length it gave way with a loud noise. This was not the proper entrance; that lay on the opposite side of the story, and had he gone there he would have found it open, whereas this one had not been opened for a long time.

The violent efforts which he had made caused him great pain, both in his neck and shoulders; but he was now at the very top of the building, close before the door he sought, and the moonlight shone in through the opening in the roof.

By the help of the hunting-knife and the fire-tongs he succeeded in forcing the door, and that without any very considerable noise. He looked into a small, low room, upon the floor of which some dirty coverlets were thrown.

Sidsel slept deeply and soundly with open mouth. A thick mass of hair escaped from beneath her cap, upon her brow; the moonlight fell, through the window-pane in the roof, upon her face. Otto bowed himself over her and examined the coarse, unpleasing features. The thick, black eyebrows appeared only like one irregular streak.

“She is my sister!” was the thought which penetrated him. “She lay upon the same bosom that I did! The blood in these limbs has kinship with that in mine! She was the repelled one, the rejected one!”

He trembled with pain and anguish; but it was only for a short time.

“Stand up!” cried he, and touched the sleeper.

“Ih, jane dou![28 - Author’s Note: An exclamation among the common people of Funen, expressive of terror.] what is it?” cried she, half terrified, and fixed her unpleasant eyes wildly upon him.

“Come with me!” said Otto, and his voice trembled as he spoke. “German Heinrich waits in the avenue! I will help you out! Hence; to-morrow it will be too late!”

“What do you say?” asked she, and still looked at him with a bewildered mien.

Otto repeated his words.

“Do you think that I can get away?” asked she, and seized him by the arm, as she hastily sprang up.

“Only silently and circumspectly!” said Otto.

“I should not have expected theft from you!” said she. “But tell me why you do it?”

Otto trembled; it was impossible for him to tell her his reasons, or to express the word,—“Thou art my sister!”

His lips were silent.

“To many a fellow,” said she, “have I been kinder than I ought to have been, but see whether any of them think about Sidsel! And you do it! You who are so fine and so genteel!”

Otto pressed together his eyelids; he heard her speak; an animal coarseness mingled itself with a sort of confidential manner which was annihilating to him.

“She is my sister!” resounded in his soul.

“Come now! come now!” and, descending the steps, she followed after him.

“I know a better way!” said she, as they came to the lowest story. She seized his arm and they again descended a flight of steps.

Suddenly a door opened itself, and Louise, still dressed, stepped forth with a light. She uttered a faint cry, and her eye riveted itself upon the two forms before her.

But still more terribly and more powerfully did this encounter operate upon Otto. His feet seemed to fail him, and, for a moment, every object moved before his eyes in bright colors. It was the moment of his severest suffering. He sprang forth toward Louise, seized her hand, and, pale as death, with lifeless, staring eyes, half kneeling, besought of her, with an agitated voice:—

“For God’s sake, tell no one of that which you have seen! I am compelled to serve her—she is my sister! If you betray my secret I am lost to this world—I must die! It was not until this evening that I knew this to be the case! I will tell you all, but do not betray me! And do you prevent tomorrow any pursuit after her! O Louise! by the happiness of your own soul feel for the misery of mine! I shall destroy myself if you betray me!”

“O God!” stammered Louise. “I will do all—all! I will be silent! Conduct her hence, quick, that you may meet with no one!”

She seized Otto’s hand; he sank upon his knee before her, and looked like a marble image which expressed manly beauty and sorrow.

Louise bent herself with sisterly affection over him; tears flowed down her cheeks; her voice trembled, but it was tranquillizing, like the consolation of a good angel. With a glance full of confidence in her, Otto tore himself away. Sidsel followed him and said not a word.

He led her to the lowest story and opened for her, silently, a window, through which she could descend to the garden, and thence easily reach the avenue where German Heinrich waited for her. To have accompanied her any further was unnecessary; it would have been venturing too much without any adequate cause. She stood now upon the window-sill—Otto put a little money into her hand.

“The Lord is above us!” said he, in a solemn voice. “Never forget Him and endeavor to amend your life! All may yet be well!” He involuntarily pressed her hand in his. “Have God always in your thoughts!” said he.

“I shall get safely away, however,” said she, and descended into the garden; she nodded, and vanished behind the hedge.

Otto stood for a while and listened whether any noise was heard, or whether any dog barked. He feared for her safety. All was still.

Just as sometimes an old melody will suddenly awake in our remembrance and sound in our ear, so awoke now a holy text to his thoughts. “Lord, if I should take the wings of the morning, and should fly to the uttermost parts of the sea, thither thou wouldst lead me, and thy right hand would hold me fast! Thou art near to us! Thou canst accomplish and thou willest our well-being! Thou alone canst help us!”

In silence he breathed his prayer.

He returned to his chamber more composed in mind. Wilhelm seemed to sleep; but as Otto approached his bed he suddenly raised himself, and looked, inquiringly, around him.

“Who is there?” exclaimed he; “you are dressed! where have you been?” He was urgent in his inquiry.

Otto gave a joking reason.

“Let me have your hand!” said he. Otto gave it to him, he felt his pulse.

“Yes, quite correct!” said he; “the blood is yet in commotion. One sees plain enough that there is no concealing things! Here was I sleeping in all innocence, and you were running after adventures. You wicked bird!”

The thoughts worked rapidly in Otto’s soul. If Louise would only be silent, no one would dream of the possibility of his having part in Sidsel’s flight. He must allow Wilhelm quietly to have his joke.

“Was not I right?” asked Wilhelm.

“And if now you were so,” replied Otto, “will you tell it to any one?”

“Do you think that I could do such a thing?” replied Wilhelm; “we are all of us only mortal creatures!”

Otto gave him his hand. “Be silent!” he said.

“Yes, certainly,” said Wilhelm; and, according to his custom, strengthened it with an oath. “Now I have sworn it,” said he; “but when there is an opportunity you must tell me more about it!”