III

Irgens walked up the street. Where should he go now? He might go to

Tivoli; there was plenty of time; in fact, it was much too early; he would

have to kill an hour or so first. He felt in his pocket for the envelope;

he had money; he might as well go to the Grand.

As he entered the door he was hailed by Journalist Gregersen, the literary

member of the _Gazette_ staff. Irgens did not like this fellow; he

did not care to cultivate his friendship in order to get an item published

in the paper now and then. Paulsberg had now two days running had a

paragraph concerning his excursion to Honefos: the first day about his

going, the second about his return; Gregersen had in his usual

accommodating manner concocted two very excellent little items about this

excursion. That such a man could descend to such coarse work! It was said

that the fellow was capable of greater things; he would surely blossom

forth some day; all right, time enough then. Irgens did not care for him

very much nowadays.

Unwillingly, he walked over to the Journalist's table. Milde was there,

also the Attorney and Coldevin, the grey tutor from the country. They were

waiting for Paulsberg. They had been discussing the situation again; it

commenced to look a little dubious now when several of the leading

parliamentarians had shown symptoms of vacillation. "Just as I have told

you," said Milde, "it is beginning to be unbearable here!"

Mrs. Grande was not present. Mrs. Liberia stayed at home.

The Journalist reported that the talk about crop failures in Russia

evidently had something in it. It could not be concealed much longer in

spite of the fact that the correspondent of the London _Times_ had

been sharply contradicted by the Russian press.

"I had a letter from Ojen," said Milde. "It looks as if he were coming

back soon; he does not appear to enjoy himself out in the woods."

All these matters did not interest Irgens in the least. He made up his

mind to get away as soon as he could. Coldevin said nothing, but glanced

from one to another with his sombre eyes. When he had been presented to

Irgens he had murmured a few words, sat down again and remained silent.

Irgens looked at him languidly and was silent too. When he had finished

his seidel he got up to go.

"Are you leaving us so soon?"

"Yes; I have got to go home and dress. I am going to Tivoli. See you

later."

Irgens left.

"There you see the famous Irgens," said the Attorney to Coldevin.

"Yes, indeed," answered Coldevin with a smile. "I see so much greatness

here that I am getting altogether bewildered. I saw the Art Exhibition

to-day--It seems to me that our poets are beginning to pay considerable

attention to their personal appearance; I have seen a couple of them; they

are so groomed and patent-leathered--one can hardly say they come

thundering along with foam-flecked bridles."

"Why should they? The fashions have changed, you know."

"I suppose so."

Coldevin was again silent.

"The fire-and-sword period has passed by, my good man," said the

Journalist patronisingly, yawning across the table. "What the devil can be

keeping Paulsberg?"

When Paulsberg at last showed up they made room for him with alacrity; the

Journalist sat close by him and wanted to hear his opinion concerning the

situation. What did these events portend--what could be done now?

Paulsberg, reserved and taciturn as always, gave a half reply, a

fragmentary opinion: What could be done? Oh, one had to try to live even

if a couple of parliamentarians were to fail the cause. All the same, he

was going to publish an article soon; it would be worth while observing

what effect that would have. He was going to give it to the traitors good

and proper.

Goodness! Was he going to publish an article? That certainly would put

matters right. "Not too gentle, now, Paulsberg; don't show them any

consideration."

"I imagine Paulsberg knows exactly how gentle he is going to be," said

Milde reprovingly. "You can safely leave that to him."

"Of course," answered the Journalist, "that goes without saying. I had no

idea of offering any suggestions."

He was a little offended, but Paulsberg smoothed matters over by saying:

"I thank you for the two notices, Gregersen. It is fortunate for us that

you keep an eye on us; otherwise people would entirely forget that we

writers existed."

The Attorney ordered another round.

"I am waiting for my wife," said Paulsberg.

"She stopped in to borrow a hundred from Ole Henriksen. I see there is

talk about famine in Russia--Well, I can't say that I have starved as

yet."

Milde turned to Coldevin and remarked pompously:

"That is something it wouldn't hurt you to know out in the country: so

shabbily does Norway treat her great men!"

Coldevin glanced from one to another.

"Indeed," he said, "it is sad." A moment later he added: "Well, one cannot

say things are much better out in the country. The struggle to live is

bitter there, too."

"But, so help me, there is a difference between poets and peasants, I

should think!"

"In the country people adjust themselves to the law that the weak must

perish," said Coldevin quietly. "For instance, people who cannot support a

wife do not marry. If they do, and if they later on have to rely on others

to discharge their obligations, then they are disgraced, branded with

shame."

Everybody looked at the bald fellow; even Paulsberg snatched his glasses

that were hanging on a cord across his breast, looked at him a moment, and

asked in a stage whisper:

"What in the world--what kind of a phenomenon is that?"

This happy word made the friends smile; Paulsberg was asking what kind of

a phenomenon this was, a phenomenon--he, he! It was not often Paulsberg

said that much. Coldevin looked unconcerned; he did not smile. A pause

ensued.

Paulsberg looked out of the window, shivered a little, and murmured:

"Drat it, I cannot get anything accomplished these days; this eternal

sunshine has played me the scurvy trick of paralysing my imagination. I am

in the middle of a descriptive passage about a rainy season, a raw and

chilly milieu, and I cannot get anywhere with it." He mumbled maledictions

about the weather.

The Attorney was incautious enough to remark:

"Why don't you write about the sunshine, then?"

It was not many days since Paulsberg himself, in Milde's studio, had

bluntly expressed an opinion to the effect that Attorney Grande had showed

symptoms of a certain arrogance lately. He was right, the Attorney was

becoming a little impertinent; it might be well to put him in his place

once and for all.

"You talk according to your lights!" said the Journalist oracularly.

This reproach was received in silence; but shortly afterward Grande got up

and buttoned his coat.

"I don't suppose any of you are going my way?" he asked in order not to

show any ill feeling. And as nobody answered he paid his check, said

goodbye and left.

More drinks were ordered. Mrs. Paulsberg arrived in the company of Ole and

his fiancée. Coldevin moved as far back as he could until he found himself

almost at another table.

"We had to accompany Mrs. Paulsberg," said Ole good-naturedly; "we

couldn't let her go alone." And he slapped Paulsberg on the shoulder.

Miss Aagot had let a joyous exclamation escape her and had walked straight

over to Coldevin, to whom she gave her hand. But what in the world had

become of him? Hadn't she kept a continuous lookout for him on the streets

and asked Ole about him every day? She was at a loss to understand why she

saw him so rarely. She had had another letter from home, and everybody

sent him their kindest regards. Why did he keep so entirely to himself?

Coldevin stuttered many brief replies: there was no end of things to see

and do, exhibitions and museums, Tivoli and Parliament; there were

newspapers to read, lectures to attend; he also had to look up a few old

friends. Furthermore, it was best not to disturb a newly engaged couple

too much.

Coldevin smiled archly; his lips trembled a little and he spoke with bowed

head.

Ole came over, overwhelmed him with the same reproaches, and received the

same excuses. Coldevin was going to call on them to-morrow, though, they

could rely on it; he had made up his mind before he met them. Provided he

would not disturb them, of course.

Disturb? He? What was he thinking of?

Beer was served and everybody talked. Mrs. Paulsberg crossed her legs and

gripped the glass in her masculine fashion. The Journalist monopolised her

immediately. Ole continued his conversation with Coldevin.

"I hope you are enjoying yourself here? Interesting people, these! There

is Lars Paulsberg; have you met him?"

"Yes, I have met him. He is the third one of our authors I have met. No

doubt it is my fault; but, to tell the truth, none of them have made an

overwhelming impression on me."

"No? That is because you do not know them well enough."

"But I know what they have written. It seems to me they do not exactly

soar to the solitary heights. It is probably my own fault, though--Lars

Paulsberg uses perfumes."

"Does he? A little peculiarity. One must pardon such men a few oddities."

"But I notice that they treat each other with the greatest respect,"

Coldevin continued. "They talk about everything; they make excellent

speeches on every subject imaginable."

"Don't they, though? It is wonderful to listen to them, I must say."

"But how are you getting on--in the business, I mean?"

"Oh, we take one day at a time. We have just turned a little trick in

Brazil which I hope will prove satisfactory. I remember, you are

interested in business matters. When you come down tomorrow I will take

you around and show you how we do it. We will all go--you and Aagot and

myself--we three old friends."

"I thought I heard my name?" said Aagot merrily and joined them. "Yes, I

did; don't try to fool me, Ole. It seems to me it is my turn to speak a

little with Coldevin; you have had him to yourself long enough, Ole."

And she took Ole's chair and sat down.

"The letters from home are full of questions about you. Mamma asked me to

see that you were comfortable at your hotel."

Coldevin's lips quivered again, and he said, with his eyes on the floor:

"How can you bother with such things now? Don't worry about me; I am very

comfortable. I hope you are enjoying yourself? Though I hardly need to ask

you that."

"But, do you know, there are times when I am longing for home, too. Can

you understand that?"

"That is only the first few days--It will be a little hard never to see

you again, Miss Aagot--I mean a little--that is--"

"You talk so strangely to-night," she said. "You almost make me want to

cry; honestly you do."

"But, dear Miss Aagot--"

"To get married isn't the same as to die, I'm sure."

Coldevin's manner instantly changed; he became jocular.

"Die! Well, I like that! But you are right in saying that I have been

sitting here and depressing you with my talk. It was mostly your mother I

was thinking of. It was nobody else--Tell me, have you finished the

cushions for the yacht?"

"Yes," answered Aagot absently.

"But you have not been in Parliament yet? I imagine you have hardly had

time for that as yet. I have been there every day; but then I haven't

anything else to do."

"Listen," she said suddenly; "I may not have an opportunity to bid you

good night later, so I will do it now." She gave him her hand. "And

remember, you have promised to call to-morrow! I--You will make me very

happy if you come."

She dropped his hand and got up.

He sat there a moment as in a trance. He heard somebody say: "What can

Miss Aagot and Coldevin be so deeply absorbed in?" He heard that Aagot

was on the point of answering, and he exclaimed hurriedly:

"I shake hands with Miss Aagot on a promise to call on her to-morrow."

"Be sure and keep your promise, now," he heard Ole say. "Well, Aagot, I

suppose we ought to be getting home."

Ole put his hand in his pocket to pay the waiter; the Journalist did the

same, but Milde seized his arm and said:

"Leave that to Ole Henriksen. Kindly pay for us, too, Ole."

"With pleasure."

At the door Lars Paulsberg caught up with him and said:

"Don't go away without giving me the opportunity of shaking hands with

you. I hear you could lend me these rotten crowns."

Ole and Aagot went. A little later Coldevin got up, too; he bowed to each

of the clique and departed. He heard laughter behind his back and the word

"phenomenon" several times. He hurried into the first gateway he passed

and took out from his pocketbook a little silken bow, in the Norwegian

colours, carefully wrapped in paper. He kissed the bow, looked at it a

long time, and kissed it again, trembling in the grip of a silent, deep

emotion.