Free Ida Brandt by Herman Bang Page A

same look in her eyes as when she examined Ida’s hands.
    Then she turned her head.
    “Do they use coke in the brickworks?” she said.
    “Coke and coal.”
    “Hm,” said Mrs Brandt. “No, wood is not sufficient in those furnaces, I suppose.”
    Ida made no reply, and Mrs Brandt said:
    “But it’s a good thing there is plenty of it.”
    Sofie was making the beds in the bedroom. She straightened all the duvets as though she wanted to beat them. She was always so energetic with everything when Christian from the mill was out of work.
    “It’s eleven o’ clock,” said Mrs Brandt.
    Ida knew that; it was time for coffee.
    There was the sound of a loud voice from the kitchen. It was Miss Thøgersen, the “housekeeper” to their neighbour, the coppersmith, who was a member of a German “company of confirmed bachelors”. She had brought the newspapers.
    “Good heavens,” she said. “It is bitterly cold today.”
    Her face was red and blue with cold, and her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows.
    “Yes, yes,” she said. “I stand in the midst of den Wäsche, and no help do I have.”
    She emerged in the doorway, completely filling it; the tartan ribbons on her bonnet were fixed with pins and were flapping around her ears like a pair of blinkers.
    “Yes, yes,” she said, following this with a torrent of words about the washing.
    “And you know what a lot of woollens Thønnichsen uses.”
    Miss Thøgersen sat down on the chair by the door, her stomach resting on her distended lower regions.
    “Ach, and now that Julie has got herself into trouble,” she said.
    Ida was in the kitchen, and Mrs Brandt said that Mrs Thomsen could not be so far gone.
    “Ach nein, ach nein.” Miss Thøgersen moved across to the basket chair; she moved and collapsed into ten chairs in the course of ten minutes. “But Maren has. She cannot control herself and yesterday they had to send for the midwife.”
    Maren was her “niece”, Julie’s maid-of-all work (the three fruits of the coppersmith’s life with Miss Thøgersen were all referred to as belonging to a collateral branch of the family) and she loyally ran the entire household except for the ten days when the midwife was needed. That happened, almost to the day, around the first of April.
    “Ach ja, ach ja…” Miss Thøgersen went on to give them a detailed account of the circumstances surrounding Maren and the need for the midwife. When she was sitting in the basket chair she always spoke quickly and in a half whisper, while Mrs Brandt remained seated, immovable, but with a singular expression on her face as though she was absorbing Maren’s words through an ear trumpet.
    “Ach ja, ach ja,” Miss Thøgersen finished, placing her hands down on her legs.
    “And otherwise she is such a decent person.”
    With her Schleswig accent, Miss Thøgersen accented her words differently and then she sat there in silence.
    Mrs Brandt waited for a few moments. Then, from her raised position, she said:
    “Who is it – this time?”
    “Gott, Gott.” If only she knew.
    Miss Thøgersen shook her head.
    “But she is so good-natured,” she said in explanation.
    Ida came in with the coffee; they both had a cup, Miss Thøgersen holding hers as though it were a basin.
    From the platform came an admonition:
    “Ida, your mouth …”
    Ida often had her mouth open a little when she was carrying something. She offered sugar and went back; she tended to withdraw to the far reaches of the room when Miss Thøgersen was there.
    But Miss Thøgersen went on. She had so many concerns.
    “And then there was this Gustav who wrote from America – and wanted to come home…But Thønnichsen was not having any of it.”
    Miss Thøgersen groaned (Gustav was one of the three).
    “Ach nein,” she said, putting the cup down. “Ach nein, it is not the same as when you have stood before the altar.”
    Miss Thøgersen had many concerns regarding her family.
    The church bells began to ring, and Miss