He didn't know exactly where on earth he was: if he was in Skåne, in Småland, or
in Blekinge. But just before reaching the swamp, he had glimpsed a large
village, and thither he directed his steps. Nor was it long before he discovered
a road. Soon he was in the village street, which was long, and had trees on both
sides, and was bordered with garden after garden.
The boy had come to one of the big cathedral towns, which are so common on the
uplands, but can hardly be seen at all down in the plain.
The houses were ofwood, and very prettily constructed. Most of them had gables
and fronts, edged with carved mouldings, and glass doors ­ with here and there a
coloured pane ­ opening on verandas. The walls were painted in light colours;
the doors and window-frames shone in blues and greens, and even in reds. While
the boy walked about and viewed the houses, he could hear, all the way out to
the road, how the people who sat in the warm cottages chattered and laughed. He
could not distinguish their words but all the same he thought it was just lovely
to hear human voices. "I wonder what they would say if I knocked and begged to
be let in," thought he.
This of course had been his intention all along, but now that he saw the lighted
windows his fear of the darkness was gone. Instead, he felt again that sense of
shyness which always came over him now when he was near human beings. "I'll try
to see a little more of the town," thought he, "before I ask any one to take me
in."
One house he came to had a balcony. And just as the boy walked by, the doors
were thrown open, and a yellow light streamed through the fine, sheer curtains.
Then a pretty young lady came out upon the balcony and leaned over the railing.
"It's raining; now we shall soon have spring," said she. When the boy saw her he
felt a strange longing. It was as though he wanted to weep. For the first time
he was a bit sorry that he had shut himself out from the human kind.
Shortly after, he came to a shop outside of which stood a red corn-drill. He
stopped and looked at it; and finally crawled up to the seat, and made believe
he was driving. He was thinking what fun it would be to drive such a pretty
machine over a grainfield. For the moment he had forgotten what he was like now;
then he remembered, and quickly jumped down from the machine. Then an even
greater unrest came over him. After all human beings were very wonderful and
clever!
As he walked by the post-office, he thought of all the newspapers that came
every day with news from the four corners of the earth. He saw the apothecary's
shop and the doctor's home, and marvelled at the power of human beings, who
could battle against sickness and death. He came to the church. Then he thought
of how human beings had built it, that they might hear about another world than
the one in which they lived; of God and the resurrection and eternal life. And
the longer he walked there, the better he liked human beings.
It is thus with children: they never think any further ahead than the length of
their tiny noses. That which lies nearest them they want promptly, with never a
thought as to what it may cost them. Nils Holgersson had not understood what he
was losing when he chose to remain an elf; but now he began to be dreadfully
afraid that perhaps he should never again get back his right form.
How in all the world should he go to work in order to become human? This he
wanted, oh! so much, to know.
He crawled up on a doorstep, seated himself in the pouring rain, and meditated.
He sat there one whole hour ­ two whole hours, and he thought so hard that his
forehead lay in furrows; but he was none the wiser. It seemed as though the
thoughts only rolled round and round in his head. The longer he sat there, the
more impossible it seemed to him to find any solution.
"This thing is certainly much too difficult for one who has learned so little as
I have," he thought at last. "It will probably end in my having to go back among
human beings after all. I must ask the minister and the doctor and the
schoolmaster and others who are learned, and may know of a cure for such
things."
This he was determined to do at once, and shook himself ­ for he was as wet as a
dog that has been in a water-pool.
Just then he saw a big owl came flying! It lit in one of the trees that bordered
the village street. The next instant a lady owl, who sat under a cornice of the
house, began to call out: "Kivitt, Kivitt! Are you at home again, Mr. Gray Owl?
What kind of a time did you have abroad?"
"Thank you, Lady Brown Owl, I had a delightful time," said the gray owl. "Has
anything out of the ordinary happened here at home during my absence?"
"Not here in Blekinge, Mr. Gray Owl; but in Skåne a marvellous thing has
happened! A boy has been transformed by an elf into a goblin no bigger than a
squirrel; and since then he has gone to Lapland with a tame goose."
"That's a remarkable bit of news, a remarkable bit of news. Can he never be
human again, Lady Brown Owl? Can he never be human again?"
"That's a secret, Mr. Gray Owl; but you shall hear it just the same. The elf has
said that if the boy watches over the goosey-gander, so that he comes home safe
and sound, and ­ "
"What more, Lady Brown Owl? What more? What more?"
"Fly with me up to the church tower, Mr. Gray Owl, and you shall hear the whole
story! I fear there may be some one listening down here in the street." With
that, the owls flew their way; but the boy flung his cap in the air, and
shouted: "If I only watch over the goosey-gander, so that he gets back safe and
sound, then I shall become a human being again. Hurrah! Hurrah! Then I shall
become a human being again!"
He shouted "hurrah" until it was strange that they did not hear him in the
houses ­ but they didn't, and he hurried back to the wild geese, out in the wet
morass, as fast as his legs could carry him.
[Next]
This chapter has been put on-line as part of the BUILD-A-BOOK Initiative at the
Celebration of Women Writers.
Initial text entry and proof-reading of this chapter were the work of volunteer
Jim Fritzler.
Chapter VII.
"Chapter VII." by Selma Lagerlöf (1858-1940), translated by Velma Swanston
Howard.
From: The Wonderful Adventures of Nils. by Selma Lagerlöf. New York: Doubleday,
Page & Company, 1922, pp. 104-109.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE STAIRWAY WITH THE THREE STEPS
Thursday, March thirty-first.
THE following day the wild geese were to travel northward through Allbo
district, in Småland. They sent Iksi and Kaksi to spy out the land. But when
they returned, they said that all the water was frozen, and all the land was
snow-covered. "We may as well remain where we are," said the wild geese. "We
cannot travel over a country where there is neither water nor food."
"If we remain where we are, we may have to wait here until the next moon," said
Akka. "It is better to go eastward, through Blekinge, and see if we can't get to
Småland by way of Möre, which is near the coast, and has an early spring."
Thus the boy came to ride over Blekinge that day. Now that it was light again,
he was in a merry mood once more, and couldn't imagine what had come over him
the night before. He certainly didn't want to give up the journey and the
outdoor life now.
There was a thick fog over Blekinge, so the boy couldn't see how it looked out
there. "I wonder if it is a rich or a poor land that I'm riding over," thought
he, and tried to search his memory for the things he had heard about the country
at school. But at the same time he knew well enough that this was useless, since
he had never been in the habit of studying his lessons.
Suddenly the boy seemed to see the school before him ­ the children sitting at
their little desks with raised hands; the teacher on the lectern looking
displeased; and he himself before the map to answer some question about
Blekinge; but he hadn't a word to say. The schoolmaster's face grew darker and
darker for every second that passed, and the boy thought the teacher was more
particular that they should know their geography than anything else. Now he came
down from the lectern, took the pointer from the boy, and sent him back to his
seat. "This won't end well," the boy had thought then.
But the schoolmaster had gone over to a window, and had stood there a moment
looking out, and then he whistled to himself. He went back to the lectern saying
that he would tell them something about Blekinge. And that which he then told
was so amusing that the boy had listened. Now as he stopped to think for a
moment, he remembered every word.
"Småland is a tall house with spruce trees on the roof," said the teacher, "and
leading up to it is a broad stairway with three big steps; this stairway is
called Blekinge. It is a stairway that is well constructed, and stretches
forty-two miles along the frontage of Småland house, and any one who wishes to
go all the way down to the Baltic Sea by way of the stairs, has twenty-four
miles to climb.
"A good long time must have elapsed since the stairway was built. Both days and
years have gone by since the steps were hewn from gray stones and laid down
evenly and smoothly, for a convenient track between Småland and the Baltic Sea.
"Since the stairway is so old, one can understand that it doesn't look quite the
same now as when it was new. I don't know how much they troubled themselves
about such matters at that time; but big as it was, no broom could have kept it
clean. After a couple of years, moss and lichen began to grow on it and in the
autumn dry leaves and dry grass blew down over it; and in the spring it was
littered over with falling stones and gravel. And since all these things were
left there to mould, they finally gathered so much soil on the steps that not
only herbs and grass, but even bushes and trees could take root there.
"But, meantime, a great disparity has arisen between the three steps. The
topmost step, which lies nearest Småland, is mostly covered with poor soil and
small stones, and no trees except birches and bird-cherry and spruce ­ which can
stand the cold on the heights, and are satisfied with little ­ can thrive there.
One understands best how poor and dry it is there, when one sees how small the
field-plots are, and how tiny the numerous cabins. But on the middle step the
soil is better and does not lie bound down under such severe cold. This, one can
see at a glance, since the trees here are both higher and of finer quality. Here
you'll find maple and oak and linden and weeping-birch and hazel trees growing,
but no cone-trees to speak of. And it is still more noticeable because of the
amount of cultivated land to be found here; and also because the people have
great and beautiful houses. On the middle step there are many churches, with
large towns around them; and in every way it makes a better and finer appearance
than the top step.
"But the very lowest step is the best of all. It is covered with good rich soil;
and, where it lies and bathes in the sea, it hasn't the slightest feeling of the
Småland chill. Beeches and chestnut and walnut trees thrive down here; and they
grow so big that they tower above the church roofs. Here lie also the largest
grainfields; the people have not only timber and farming to live by, but they
are also occupied with fishing and trading and seafaring. For this reason you
will find the most costly residences and the prettiest churches here; and the
parishes have developed into villages and cities.
"But this is not all there is to be said of the three steps. For one must
realise that when it rains on the roof of the big Småland house, or when the
snow melts up there, the water has to go somewhere; and then, naturally, a lot
of it is spilled over the big stairway. In the beginning it probably oozed over
the whole stairway, big as it was; then cracks appeared in it, and gradually,
the water accustomed itself to flow alongside of it, in well dug-out grooves.
And water is water, whatever one does with it. It never has any rest. In one
place it cuts and files away, and in another it adds to. These grooves it has
dug into vales, and the walls of the vales it has decked with soil; and bushes
and trees and vines have clung to them ever since ­ so thick, and in such
profusion, that they almost hide the streams they border. But when the streams
come to the landings between the steps, they hurl themselves headlong over them;
this is why the water comes with such a seething rush that it gathers strength
with which to move millwheels and machinery ­ these, too, have sprung up by
every waterfall.
"But this is not all there is to tell of the land with the three steps. Once
upon a time up in the big house in Småland there lived a giant, who had grown
very old. And it fatigued him, in his extreme age, to be forced to walk down
that long stairway in order to catch salmon from the sea. To him it seemed much
more suitable that the salmon should come up to him, where he lived.
"Therefore, he went up on the roof of his great house; and there he stood and
threw stones down into the Baltic Sea. He threw them with such force that they
flew over the whole of Blekinge and dropped into the sea. And when the stones
came down, the salmon got so scared that they came up from the Baltic and fled
toward the Blekinge streams; ran through the rapids; flung themselves with high
leaps over the waterfalls, and stopped.
"How true this is, one can see by the number of islands and points that lie
