# Emanuel, or Children of the Soil/Book 5, Chapter 3

In this way the time passed happily till the autumn set in, with short, stormy days and long dark nights.
Then Emanuel found it every evening more difficult to take leave of Hansine, and the warm, cosy room at the farm; and to trudge home over the muddy roads to the empty Parsonage, where his steps echoed as in a vault. He always went straight to bed; but though he was tired with his work, he was often kept awake by the various indescribable sounds which haunt an empty house at night. Or else he lay awake listening to the wild moaning of wind through the trees in the garden, which sounded like great waves thundering one on the top of the other.
​One night he was awakened by a long-drawn wailing sound, which at first he could not explain, until he made out that it was the piping of the fire alarm. He sprang up in haste and was hurrying on a few clothes, when he heard sounds in the house; the door opened, and the lame servant appeared in a flannel petticoat, with a lighted candle in her shaking hands.
"Oh, sir!… There's a fire!" she screamed, with a pale face—like everyone else who had been through the great Veilby fire, she could never hear the fire alarm without being frightened to death.
People were running about all over the village with lanterns. It was soon discovered that it was only a cottage in the next parish which was on fire; and when the hose had been got off, sufficiently manned, the village settled down again.
This disturbance so upset Emanuel that he made a decided resolution the same night. He was determined to be married soon. He felt that he could not endure this dreary solitude during a long, dark winter. And why should he wait?—for the present, at all events, there would be no change in his position.
The very next day he spoke to Hansine about it.
At first she was a good deal alarmed. She had secretly hoped that Emanuel would not want to be married for a year at least. The ​more narrowly she examined her new position—especially after there was a prospect of becoming mistress of the palatial Veilby Parsonage—so much the more she feared not doing justice to the position in which her marriage would place her. But when she saw how happy and sanguine Emanuel always was, and how anxious he was to hurry on the marriage, she could not find it in her heart to oppose his wishes, or even to disturb him with her troubles; and when her parents were consulted, it was decided at a family council that the wedding should take place on the 6th of October, Frederick the VIIth's birthday.
But now a little difficulty arose, the outcome of which was anxiously looked for in the village. While Hansine wanted to be married as quietly as possible, her mother thought they owed it to Emanuel to celebrate the day with as much splendour as they could. Otherwise, he might still think they were not thoroughly pleased with the connection, and she wanted for once to shew her gratitude by her deeds.
Emanuel took no part in the arrangements, and, indeed, did not seem to notice them; personally, he did not object to a gathering of "Friends" on his wedding-day, but he did not wish to influence the decision of the others. So, for the first time in their three-and-twenty years of married life, it came about that Else and Anders did not agree. He saw that, if Else had her way, it would fall very heavily on his care​fully hoarded little capital—a sum of six hundred kroner; it had always been destined for the purchase of a threshing machine, which he had wanted for ten years. He tried to get her to see how unreasonable it was, for the sake of a single day, to waste a sum which would serve to thresh their grain to the end of their days. Emanuel knew well enough, he said, how fond they were of him, and perhaps he would not care to see so much money thrown out of the window. Else was almost on the point of yielding when she received support from an unexpected quarter.
On Sunday afternoon, Villing and his wife paid a solemn visit of congratulation; the banns had been called for the first time that day, so it was now officially known. The lady was in a silk dress and crepe shawl, and her gentle, nun-like face wore a benignant smile; Villing was in a tall hat and frock coat, well padded on the shoulders, a white waistcoat with glass buttons, and white cuffs coming well down over his swollen hands, which were encased in dog-skin gloves.
Since co-operative stores had been started in Skibberup, under the leadership of the weaver, they had not set foot in the place; but recent events had considerably softened their feelings. They now saw that they had judged the people harshly, and as it was against their nature to live at enmity with anyone, they took this opportunity of atoning for their injustice.
​Only Else and Anders were present during the visit, and at first the conversation turned upon indifferent topics. But suddenly the shopkeeper asked about the approaching marriage, and then Else, with her usual frankness, told them of the difference which had arisen between herself and Anders as to the celebration.
Villing, who had hitherto been sitting with rather an absent air, nursing his tall hat on his knee, started up at these words and became very conversational.
He must confess—he said—that he did not understand Anders Jörgen's attitude in this affair. It appeared to him that such an important event ought to be celebrated in a suitable manner; that it was a downright point of honour for Anders Jörgen's house to make the day a high festival for all friends of the "People's Cause." He knew, he added, that the whole neighbourhood were anxious to take this opportunity of shewing their friendly feelings to the young couple; and he was convinced that the participation of the people would give to the solemnity the character of a true National Festival.
While he talked, Anders Jörgen shrank up like a snail in its shell, and glanced anxiously at his wife. When Villing noticed that his words were having an effect, he continued to talk. It was quite evident that he had all the arrangements mapped out in his head.
His advice was to have a large tent pitched in ​the meadow behind the farmyard, where they could dine; and then he proposed to get leave to use the Meeting House for dancing, and decorate it. They need not be alarmed about the expenses; if they would do him the honour to put the whole affair in his hands, and trust him to make the necessary purchases, he would promise that it should not cost them more than a couple of hundred kr. He knew that for the last few years the people of Skibberup had withdrawn their custom from him; but he wished to take this opportunity of shewing them that they had mistaken him, and that both he and his wife were their true and disinterested friends. These observations were seconded by Mrs Villing, who laid her hand on Else's arm and looked at her in the most affectionate manner.
The shopkeeper's persuasions at last overcame Anders Jörgen's scruples, and when Else had had another conversation with Hansine, she also fell in with her mother's plans.
Villing was really in the right. There was a growing desire throughout the neighbourhood to do honour to Emanuel, who by his gentle manners, his straightforwardness, and his constant anxiety to meet their wishes, had, by degrees, won over even the Veilby people, so that they crowded to church every Sunday too. Even a man like Jensen, the chairman of the Parish Council, made advances to him, and Aggerbölle the vet. had long since declared him to be a ​"devilish good preacher," and an excellent young man.
There was still one of the peasant fraternity who held aloof, and that was Maren Smeds, the hideous little woman who had taken such a prominent part on the occasion of Emanuel's first speech. Her history was as follows.
Having in her youth once been kitchen-maid in a gentleman's house, she was, for a long time, chosen to cook all the great feasts of the neighbourhood, a position which gained for her both glory and comfortable means. At a great christening feast, at which more than a hundred guests were present, she had the misfortune to burn the rice porridge. Although her husband, who was then alive and acting as master of the ceremonies, immediately thrashed her soundly before the eyes of all the company, the people would never have any more to do with her, and ever afterwards had their cooks from the town.
This was the cause of that hatred of her kind, which made the poor creature the only socialist in the place; and since the affair in the Meeting House all her bitterness had been spent on Emanuel.
Hansine, who at this time was most anxious to conciliate every one, and in her timorous love, to disperse every threatening cloud from her future, one afternoon went to the tumble-down hut, a long way beyond the village, where Maren lived, to ask her to come and cook at her wedding. ​The poor creature was overwhelmed by the revulsion of feeling. After a moment's struggle with her pride she burst into loud and uncontrollable sobs, and—to Hansine's great discomfiture—fell on her knees and kissed her hand.