Mårbacka/Part 1, Chapter 3
Back-Kaisa and her charge were on a journey. They sat perched up on the box of the big close-carriage with Magnus, the coachman, who was so gripped by his responsibility of driving three horses on the dreadful road to Karlstad that not a word could be got out of him.
On the back seat of the carriage sat Fru Lagerlöf and Mamselle Lovisa, with Johan and Anna opposite, their backs to the horses. It was much more fun, of course, to sit on the coach-box and watch the horses than being shut in under the tilt. Johan would have liked to be up there with Magnus; but Fru Lagerlöf had said it was impossible to squeeze Back-Kaisa in on the front seat, and where she rode, Selma must ride. Lieutenant Lagerlöf was also along on the journey, but he rode alone at some distance ahead, in his carriole.
It was a year now since the little girl first lost the use of her legs, and in all that time she had not set foot on the ground. She was now being taken to the West Coast in the hope that the sea air and the baths might possibly effect a cure. She was the only invalid among them, but a summer at the seaside would no doubt be of benefit to all.
The little girl sitting up there on the driver's seat had quite forgotten her affliction. She and Back-Kaisa were going away together, and the baby had been left at home! She was looking forward to a revival of those happy, never-to-be-forgotten times.
Snuggling close to the nurse, she put her arms about her neck and asked her again and again if she was not glad that they two could now be together, with no one to disturb them.
There was no reply. But the little girl did not much mind; Back-Kaisa had never been a talking person.
The great highroad to Karlstad was just one hill after another. There was the tortuous stretch round Bävik and Gunnarsby Hill, which was about three and a half English miles long; then came the steep grade up to the Sundgård mountains which was close to vertical. But most perilous of all was Kleva towering above an abyss. It was up and down the whole time, as if one were see-sawing between heaven and earth. Lieutenant Lagerlöf, to make the going easier, had ordered three horses put to the carriage—an arrangement to which neither horses nor driver was accustomed.
If anything was calculated to increase the little girl's delight at having Back-Kaisa all to herself once more, it was being allowed to sit where she could look down at the frisky horses that dashed on as if the heavy carriage were only a toy wagon, tearing round the curves, with the vehicle sometimes on two wheels. Often the horses would stiffen their legs and make the downgrade almost on their haunches, and when they came to a sudden drop in the road, Magnus would stand up and use the whip desperately, to urge the horses on so that the high carriage would not come tumbling over them.
In the middle of one of these break-neck descents the little girl again turned to the nurse and said:
"Aren't you glad, Back-Kaisa, to be alone with me? Aren't you glad, Back-Kaisa, the baby isn't along?"
There came no response now, either; and wondering, the child turned so that she could see the nurse's face.… Back-Kaisa sat holding on to the seat, a fixed stare in her eyes, her lips compressed, her face the hue of ashes. "Isn't Back-Kaisa glad?" But the little girl now saw that Back-Kaisa was far from glad and she was so crestfallen she could have cried.
Then at last Back-Kaisa spoke:
"Hush up, Selma! You must't talk when you're facing such danger! Never've I known worse! But for your sake, I'd 've got down and gone home long ago."
The little girl sat pondering the reply, not quite satisfied. She was never afraid when with Back-Kaisa, so why should Back-Kaisa be afraid when she was with her? It was nice of her, though, not to get down and go home; but it would have been nicer if she had felt too happy to be scared.