Norse Tales and Sketches

Norse Tales and Sketches

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Lange Kielland, Translated by R. L. Cassie
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Title: Norse Tales and Sketches
Author: Alexander Lange Kielland
Release Date: January 4, 2005 [eBook #14593]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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TALES AND SKETCHES***
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NORSE TALES AND SKETCHES
by
ALEXANDER L. KIELLAND
Translated by R. L. Cassie
London
1896

INTRODUCTION
Encouraged by the great and growing popularity of Scandinavian
literature in this country, I venture to submit to public judgment this
humble essay towards an English presentment of some of the charming
novelettes of Alexander L. Kielland, a writer who takes rank among the

foremost exponents of modern Norse thought. Although these short
stories do not represent the full fruition of the author's genius, they yet
convey a fairly accurate conception of his literary personality, and of
the bold realistic tendency which is so strikingly developed in his
longer novels.
Kielland's style is polished, lucid, and incisive. He does not waste
words or revel in bombastic diffuseness. Every phrase of his narrative
is a definite contribution towards the vivification of his realistic effects.
His concise, laconic periods are pregnant with deep meaning, and
instinct with that indefinable Norse essence which almost eludes the
translator--that vague something which specially lends itself to the
treatment of weird or pathetic situations.
In his pre-eminence as a satirist, Kielland resembles Thackeray. His
satire, although keen, is always wholesome, genial, and
good-humoured.
Kielland's longer novels are masterly delineations of Norwegian
provincial life and character, and his vivid individualization of his
native town of Stavanger finds few parallels in fiction.
In conclusion, the writer hopes that this modest publication may help to
draw the attention of the cultured British public to another of the great
literary figures of the North.
R.L.C.

CONTENTS.
A SIESTA
A MONKEY
A TALE OF THE SEA
A DINNER
TROFAST
KAREN
MY SISTER'S JOURNEY TO MODUM
LETTERS FROM MASTER-PILOT SEEHUS
OLD DANCES
AUTUMN

A SIESTA.

In an elegant suite of chambers in the Rue Castiglione sat a merry party
at dessert.
Senhor José Francisco de Silvis was a short-legged, dark-complexioned
Portuguese, one of those who usually come from Brazil with incredible
wealth, live incredible lives in Paris, and, above all, become notorious
by making the most incredible acquaintances.
In that little company scarcely anybody, except those who had come in
pairs, knew his neighbour. And the host himself knew his guests only
through casual meetings at balls, _tables d' hôte_, or in the street.
Senhor de Silvis laughed much, and talked loudly of his success in life,
as is the habit of rich foreigners; and as he could not reach up to the
level of the Jockey Club, he gathered the best company he could find.
When he met anyone, he immediately asked for the address, and sent
next day an invitation to a little dinner. He spoke all languages, even
German, and one could see by his face that he was not a little proud
when he called over the table: Mein lieber Herr Doctor! Wie geht's
Ihnen?'
There was actually a live German doctor among this merry party. He
had an overgrown light-red beard, and that Sedan smile which
invariably accompanies the Germans in Paris.
The temperature of the conversation rose with the champagne; the
sounds of fluent and broken French were mingled with those of
Spanish and Portuguese. The ladies lay back in their chairs and laughed.
The guests already knew each other well enough not to be reserved or
constrained. Jokes and _bons-mots_ passed over the table, and from
mouth to mouth. 'Der liebe Doctor' alone engaged in a serious
discussion with the gentleman next to him--a French journalist with a
red ribbon in his buttonhole.
And there was one more who was not drawn into the general merriment.
He sat on the right of Mademoiselle Adèle, while on the left was her
new lover, the corpulent Anatole, who had surfeited himself on truffles.
During dinner Mademoiselle Adèle had endeavoured, by many
innocent little arts, to infuse some life into her right-hand neighbour.
However, he remained very quiet, answering her courteously, but
briefly, and in an undertone.
At first she thought he was a Pole--one of those very tiresome
specimens who wander about and pretend to be outlaws. However, she

soon perceived that she had made a mistake, and this piqued
Mademoiselle Adèle. For one of