Huddled up, shivering, crushed with shame, he slunk into Ekbacken by a side path. He sank groaning into a settee and swallowed a glass of undiluted whiskey. And out of the whiskey came a thought, the thought of flight and failure, but also the thought of a thousand possibilities:
Peter the Boss had been right in his calculation. Three days later the business was settled and Herman received twenty thousand crowns.
“You saved the slam anyhow, old boy,” said Peter, “You saved the slam anyhow.”
He was pleased with himself for having helped a friend in difficulties. It hurt him that Herman went about looking drained dry. And then those stupid America plans. Why the devil should Herman want to go away? With whom was Peter now to drink his whiskey during the long winter evenings? Who would be with him when he was out sailing in his new yacht? Herman, who knew the boat so well.
“It will be empty after you, Herman,” complained Peter, “damned empty.”
But for once Herman stuck to his decision and so the moment of farewell arrived. Peter was down at the station. Herman was already at the carriage window, filled with an impotent bitterness both sharp and dull. He had been a hopeless failure, fit to be plucked and cast aside. Laura and Peter had taken everything away from him. And in spite of it all he had not got the strength of mind to hate them. Yes, when he saw Peter’s coarse face, swollen with emotion, he positively did not know what to believe. “Perhaps he has really done what he could for me,” he thought. “And it was rather decent of him to come down here so that I need not be quite alone.”
Then the engine took its first deep breath as if it were challenging the distance it was about to cover.
Peter wept. He could not let go Herman’s hand:
“Good-bye, old boy! Take care of yourself now. Good-bye, Herman!”
And then old Hermansson’s tall Herman was swept off the stage.
But Peter the Boss drove slowly home in Brundin’s old dog-cart. He was both sad and glad. When he had passed the toll bar he fell into a solemn mood. The short cut across Ekbacken was open to him now. Somebody ran to the gate to open it for him. He drove past the house on the lake side and past the landing stage and the old office. Dusk began to fall and Peter felt suddenly very sorry for himself. What had he not undertaken! Fancy looking after all this. The road now ran along the lake. Peter held the reins very loosely and by and by the horse stopped. It was perfectly still and the lake was on the point of freezing over. A big, cold, glowing cloud hung over Kolsnäs and was reflected in the glassy surface of the water. The heavy clatter of a horse’s hoofs on the floating bridge floated out into the quiet of the evening. Peter sighed deeply. He envied Herman. Fancy travelling about with twenty thousand in your pocket. He will see something of the world. But I, old peasant, will never get abroad anywhere. I sit here in old Selambshof ... and old Ekbacken....