The Icelandic Canadian - 01.06.1967, Blaðsíða 120

118
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
Summer 1967
in a close-fitting light summer dress,
her hair swept into a bun. She was
as bright and beautiful as the summer
day, itself. Walking over to the
“count”, she stood by ihis side as
though waiting for him to tell her
where they would go.
The count then spoke calmly, but in
a voice so loud that it could be heard
throughout the entire courtyard. “I am
neither a count nor a rich man. On
the contrary, I own nothing more than
what I have with me, and I am sought
by the law of this country. Any one of
you can take me to the authorities and
have me thrown in jail.”
A death-like silence fell over all as
they heard his confession. Everyone
looked at Sara Valdai, who stood a.s if
rooted to 'the spot. Her face was white
as the scarf she wore about her neck.
She stood erect and carried her head
high as though she were receiving the
crown of a countess. There was no
indication from her bearing that her
dreams of royalty were being swept
into the dustheap to be trampled
upon.
Her father could control him.self no
longer. He moved with a single stride
to where the count and Sara stood
and roughly snatched his daugter’s
arm. A growl like that of a wild beast
escaped his lips.
“Do you intend to follow him off
to jail?” he asked, quivering with fury.
Sara withdrew her arm and replied
as she looked at Sigurd: “I have long
suspected that which has now come
about—I beg of you not to suggest that
I turn back, any more than I shall re-
quest that you take me back.”
When Sara had uttered these words,
it was as though a different expression
came over the count. He shook him-
self as a horse does when it is set free
in the pasture, then walked to where
Sigurd was standing.
“I am confident that you will not
try to stop me from leaving since you
would only heap unhappiness on this
girl who will follow me wherever I go.
And I gathered from the statement of
the Englishman that as things now
stand, he i.s bound by his word to my
former master, to leave me alone. And
as far as you are concerned,” he said,
turning to old Valdai and smiling, “I
know that I am no more anxious than
you are that I get safely away from Ice-
land.”
Sigurd and Valdai looked at each
other. There was nothing to do but
what the count had proposed, namely,
to remain silent and let him leave. Sig-
urd could not help but admire the
courage and the presence of mind that
this man displayed, alone, as he wa,s,
wanted by the police, and despised bv
many.
Sigurd translated for the English-
man the last that had been said. Thev
agreed on this course of action; they
had no alternative.
As he rode out of the yard, Sigurd
glanced over his shoulder at Sara, but
she pretended not to see him. For a
long time he appeared distracted and
preferred to be alone with his
thoughts. It was always the same feel-
ing that plagued him, neither love for
Sara nor a sense of loss, but rather un-
endurable envy of the “count” who
had such power over her.
A short hour after Sigurd and the
Englishman left, the imposter was con-
ducted to the nearest harbor. After
the “count’s” disappearance, Sara re-
vealed her fellings to no one and avoid-
ed the company of others. Later, the
following summer a messenger came
from the harbor village and delivered
a letter to her from abroad. With her
one-year-old daughter she sailed out
into the world, to be heard of no more.