“Tord is an egoist,” she exclaimed in a tone of moral indignation. “He is an awful egoist. He has no regard for others.”
All agreed. Stellan’s ever watchful irony seemed to have vanished. He found nothing ridiculous in such words on Laura’s lips. He felt with a queer sort of bitterness that in Tord the Selamb egoism had declined from the high plane on which it was assured of success in the world. He was dangerous, Tord, he did not hide what ought to be hidden, he unmasked them all; he was a caricature of them.
Peter stood watching in the window. He made a sign. A cab came driving up the avenue. It was Tord and that woman. No doubt about it. Tord wore a white tie. It was the first time they had ever seen him in a white tie. And the woman had a bouquet of flowers in her hand. They had come from church. …
Stellan stamped on the floor:
“Damn him! He must get out of this. I can’t have him within five miles’ distance of my mess and my club!”
“We ought to have let the police take that woman,” fumed Laura. “And Tord ought to be in some kind of home. Hasn’t he even tried to shoot Peter?”
Peter had kept silent the whole time and looked very mysterious. Now he thought the right moment had arrived:
“I was out duck shooting a week or two ago,” he grunted. “It was at a place called Järnö which lies far out at sea. A fine island. And it is for sale. Fancy if we put Tord in a boat and took him out there. …”
At that moment somebody stepped into the hall. It was Mrs. Dagmar Selamb in an open fur coat, white silk frock and somewhat down-at-heel shoes. She did not look at all nervous or anxious. There was something lighthearted, something irrepressibly carefree about her:
“How do you do,” she said. “I thought I would call whilst I still had some decent clothes!”
She was greeted by amazed, icy silence.
Dagmar shook her fair mane with a little flash of impatience:
“Perhaps it seems strange that I haven’t brought him with me. He is playing with his Japanese mice, poor fellow, and in his new black evening dress, too! We must excuse him. ‘I won’t go up to those bourgeois!’ he screamed. ‘But I am going,’ I said. ‘They have done nothing to me,’ I said. Well, and here I am. The whole family is assembled, I see. …”
Again a few moments of the same silence. Dagmar’s features were at last overshadowed by a certain doubt as to whether she was welcome.
Then Peter suddenly stepped up to her and took her hand:
“Congratulations,” he said, “congratulations.”
And suddenly all of them smiled, struck by the same thought as Peter. They were splendid, those Selambs. They realised at once that it was important to gain an ally.
“You can’t be very comfortable down in The Rookery,” said Laura.
Dagmar threw her coat on a chair and sat down by the fire:
“Oh, it’s good enough for us.”
Peter followed Laura:
“But how would it be to have your own place?”
Dagmar laughed:
“I see, you want to get rid of us!”
“It is for Tord’s sake,” continued Stellan. “We had thought it would be a little surprise. He is such a lover of nature. …”
“I suppose it is somewhere at the end of the world,” asked Dagmar.
“Not at all,” Peter cut in. “It is out in the skerries by the sea. You couldn’t have a finer view. And such lots of game, sea birds and capercailzie and hares and foxes. That would be something for Tord. Fancy to be one’s own master and live exactly as one likes. …”
Dagmar’s eyes suddenly lit up:
“The sea, you say. And do you think I could go out every morning and lie down quite naked in the sunshine?”
“Of course, that’s just what I mean.”
Dagmar was too absorbed in her thoughts to hear Laura snigger.
“I am perfectly mad on lying naked in the sunshine,” she said, in a serious tone.
“Good, then we agree.”
“Yes, I like your proposal very much. But how shall we manage to get Selamb to agree? He is so crazy sometimes, poor fellow. You simply can’t imagine.”
“Oh! be careful in the beginning” said Peter. “Flatter him a bit. Tell him that he has money enough to buy his own estate. That he ought to free himself from that cursed fellow, Peter the Boss. But our little sister-in-law will know better than I what to say.”
Dagmar rose smiling, pleased with the cunning which she would display.
“Good, there’s my hand. I shall be like a snake. Goodbye, all of you. He must have something to eat. I think you are jolly nice, all of you!”
With that Mrs. Dagmar Selamb went out in her shabby shoes—not without a certain savage grace.
And so they bribed Tord’s wife on her wedding day.
The solemn family council laughed and laughed. Laura writhed:—“Lying quite naked in the sun,” she screamed. “I am mad on lying absolutely naked in the sun.”
The laughter was soon followed by a quarrel, one of the sharpest in the history of the family council. And of course it was on a question of money. Tord had nothing but his shares in Selambshof, no ready money. There was first a keen debate as to who ought to collect the purchase money. Peter sat silent and let the others talk. Yes, Peter the Boss had suddenly become strangely indifferent. His cigar seemed to absorb him completely. This was a mock battle that he did not mind them fighting. He knew very well that he was the only one who had ready money. At last he said quietly that perhaps he could manage to scrape together a little.
The others suddenly grew suspicious of Peter’s indifference.
“You have been arranging the whole thing beforehand. You think you are going to earn money by this. You are going to cheat Tord,” they cried.
Peter defended himself like a bear amongst a swarm of
