Ticket No. 9672 - Jules Verne (i can read book club .txt) 📗

and upon him, and both of them entered the large parlor.

As Joel and Hulda approached the house the threatening voice of Sandgoist became distinctly audible. They paused and listened; Dame Hansen was speaking now, but in entreating tones.

“Let us go in,” remarked Joel.

Hulda entered with a heavy heart; Joel was trembling with suppressed anger and impatience.

Sandgoist sat enthroned in the big armchair. He did not even take the trouble to rise on the entrance of the brother and sister. He merely turned his head and stared at them over his spectacles.

“Ah! here is the charming Hulda, if I’m not mistaken,” he exclaimed in a tone that incensed Joel even more deeply.

Dame Hansen was standing in front of the man in an humble almost cringing attitude, but she instantly straightened herself up, and seemed greatly annoyed at the sight of her children.

“And this is her brother, I suppose?” added Sandgoist.

“Yes, her brother,” retorted Joel.

Then, advancing until within a few steps of the armchair, he asked, brusquely:

“What do you want here?”

Sandgoist gave him a withering look; then, in a harsh voice, and without rising, he replied:

“You will soon learn, young man. You happen in just at the right time. I was anxious to see you, and if your sister is a sensible girl we shall soon come to an understanding. But sit down, and you, too, young woman, had better do the same.”

Sandgoist seemed to be doing the honors of his own house, and Joel instantly noted the fact.

“Ah, ha! you are displeased! What a touchy young man you seem to be!”

“I am not particularly touchy that I know of, but I don’t feel inclined to accept civilities from those who have no right to offer them.”

“Joel!” cried Dame Hansen.

“Brother, brother!” exclaimed Hulda, with an imploring look.

Joel made a violent effort to control himself, and to prevent himself from yielding to his desire to throw this coarse wretch out of the window, he retired to a corner of the room.

“Can I speak now?” inquired Sandgoist.

An affirmative sign from Dame Hansen was all the answer he obtained, but it seemed to be sufficient.

“What I have to say is this,” he began, “and I would like all three of you to listen attentively, for I don’t fancy being obliged to repeat my words.”

That he spoke like a person who had an indisputable right to his own way was only too evident to each and every member of the party.

“I have learned through the newspapers,” he continued, “of the misfortune which has befallen a certain Ole Kamp⁠—a young seaman of Bergen⁠—and of a lottery ticket that he bequeathed to his betrothed, Hulda Hansen, just as his ship, the Viking, was going down. I have also learned that the public at large feels convinced that this will prove the fortunate ticket by reason of the peculiar circumstances under which it was found. I have also learned that some very liberal offers for the purchase of this ticket have been received by Hulda Hansen.”

He was silent for a moment, then:

“Is this true?” he added.

He was obliged to wait some time for an answer to this question.

“Yes, it is true,” replied Joel, at last. “And what of it, if you please?”

“These offers are, in my opinion, the result of a most absurd and senseless superstition,” continued Sandgoist, “but for all that, they will continue to be made, and to increase in amount, as the day appointed for the drawing approaches. Now, I am a business man myself, and I have taken it into my head that I should like to have a hand in this little speculation myself, so I left Drammen yesterday to come to Dal to arrange for the transfer of this ticket, and to beg Dame Hansen to give me the preference over all other would-be purchasers.”

Hulda was about to make Sandgoist the same answer she had given to all offers of this kind, though his remarks had not been addressed directly to her, when Joel checked her.

“Before replying, I should like to ask Monsieur Sandgoist if he knows to whom this ticket belongs?” he said haughtily.

“To Hulda Hansen, I suppose.”

“Very well; then it is to Hulda Hansen that this application should be addressed.”

“My son!” hastily interposed Dame Hansen.

“Let me finish, mother,” continued Joel. “This ticket belonged originally to our cousin, Ole Kamp, and had not Ole Kamp a perfect right to bequeath it to his betrothed?”

“Unquestionably,” replied Sandgoist.

“Then it is to Hulda Hanson that you must apply, if you wish to purchase it.”

“So be it, Master Formality,” retorted Sandgoist. “I now ask Hulda to sell me this ticket Number 9672 that Ole Kamp bequeathed to her.”

“Monsieur Sandgoist,” the young girl answered in firm but quiet tones, “I have received a great many offers for this ticket, but they have been made in vain. I shall say to you exactly what I have said to others. If my betrothed sent me this ticket with his last farewell upon it it was because he wished me to keep it, so I will not part with it at any price.”

Having said this Hulda turned, as if to leave the room, evidently supposing that the conversation so far as she was concerned had been terminated by her refusal, but at a gesture from her mother she paused.

An exclamation of annoyance had escaped Dame Hansen, and Sandgoist’s knitted brows and flashing eyes showed that anger was beginning to take possession of him.

“Yes, remain, Hulda,” said he. “This is not your final answer. If I insist it is because I certainly have a right to do so. Besides, I think I must have stated the case badly, or rather you must have misunderstood me. It is certain that the chances of this ticket have not increased because the hand of a shipwrecked seaman placed it in a bottle and it was subsequently recovered; still, the public seldom or never reasons, and there is not the slightest doubt that many persons desire to become the owners of it. They have