Ticket No. "9672"

Read Ticket No. "9672" for Free Online Page B

Book: Read Ticket No. "9672" for Free Online
Authors: Jules Verne
wheels, whose springless axle supports a small gay-colored, shell-shaped wagon-body, scarcely large enough to hold one person—no covering, no dash-board, no step—but behind, a board upon which the skydskarl perches himself. The whole vehicle strongly reminds one of an enormous spider between two huge cobwebs represented by the wheels of the vehicle.
    At a sign from the traveler the skydskarl sprung to the horse's head, and the stranger rose, straightened himself out, and finally alighted, though not without some difficulty, judging from two or three muttered curses.
    "Will they put my kariol under shelter?" he asked, curtly, pausing upon the threshold.
    "Yes, sir," replied Hulda.
    "And find my horse?"
    "I will have him put in the stable immediately."
    "Have him well cared for."
    "Certainly, sir. May I ask if you intend to remain in Dal several days?"
    "I don't know yet."

    The kariol and horse were taken to a small barn built under the shelter of some trees at the foot of the mountain. It was the only stable connected with the inn, but it sufficed for the requirements of its guests.
    In a few moments the traveler was duly installed in the best chamber, where, after removing his cloak, he proceeded to warm himself before the fire he had ordered lighted. In the meantime, Hulda, to satisfy this exacting guest, bade the piga (a sturdy peasant-girl, who helped in the kitchen, and did the rough work of the inn during the summer) prepare the best dinner possible.
    A strong, hardy man was this new-comer, though he had already passed his sixtieth year. Thin, slightly round-shouldered, of medium stature, with an angular head, smoothly shaven face, thin, pointed nose, small eyes that looked you through and through from behind large spectacles, a forehead generally contracted by a frown, lips too thin for a pleasant word ever to escape them, and long, crooked fingers, he was the very personification of an avaricious usurer or miser, and Hulda felt a presentiment that this stranger would bring no good fortune to Dame Hansen's house.
    He was a Norwegian unquestionably, but one of the very worst type. His traveling costume consisted of a broad-brimmed, low-crowned hat, a snuff-colored suit, the breeches fastened at the knee with a leather strap, and over all a large brown cloak, lined with sheep-skin to protect its wearer from the chilly night air.
    Hulda did not ask him his name, but she would soon learn it, as he would have to enter it upon the inn register.
    Just then Dame Hansen returned, and her daughter announced the arrival of a guest who demanded the best room and the best food that the inn afforded, but who vouchsafed no information in regard to the probable length of his stay.
    "And he did not give his name?" asked Dame Hansen.
    "No, mother."

    "Nor say whence he came?"
    "No."
    "If he is not a tourist, what can have brought him to Dal?" said Dame Hansen to herself rather than to her daughter, and in a tone that indicated some uneasiness.
    But Hulda could not answer this question, as the new-comer had acquainted her with none of his plans.
    About an hour after his arrival the man came out into the main hall, from which his door opened, but seeing Dame Hansen sitting there, he paused upon the threshold.
    Evidently he was as much of a stranger to his hostess as his hostess was to him; but he finally walked toward her, and after a long look at her from over his spectacles:
    "You are Dame Hansen, I suppose?" he said, without even touching the hat he had not yet removed from his head.
    "Yes, sir."
    In the presence of this man the widow, strange to say, experienced, like her daughter, an uneasiness for which she could not account, but which her guest must have noticed.
    "So you are really Dame Hansen, of Dal?" he continued.
    "Certainly, sir. Have you anything particular to say to me?"
    "Nothing; I only wished to make your acquaintance. Am I not your guest? And now I should like you to see that I have my dinner as soon as

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