"Beauty was lovely and Love was very sweet; and if I choose Truth,
it is like the stars, eternal."
And Jehovah spake once more and asked me:
"Have you chosen?"
And my thoughts were many, my thoughts warred mightily within me, and
I answered:
"Beauty was like a morning glow." And when I had said this I whispered
and said: "Love was also sweet and glorious like a little star in my
soul."
But then I felt Jehovah's eye on me, and Jehovah's eye read my
thoughts. And for the third time Jehovah asked and said:
"Have you chosen?"
And when He said for the third time: "Have you chosen?" my eyes stared
with terror, yes, all my strength had left me. And when He said for
the last time: "Have you chosen?" I remembered Beauty and Love and
remembered them both, and I answered Jehovah:
"I choose Truth!"
* * * * *
But I still remember....
"Well, that's all," concluded Norem.
Everybody was silent for a moment; then the Journalist said:
"I refrain from expressing an opinion; I notice Milde is going to say
something."
And Milde did not refrain; far from it; on the contrary, he had a remark
to make. Could anybody tell him what it was all about? He admired Ojen as
much as anybody, but was there any sense to all this "Jehovah said" and
"Jehovah said"? He wanted to be enlightened.
"But why are you always so unkind to Ojen?" asked Mrs. Hanka. "Memories--
can't you understand? To me it seemed beautiful and full of feeling; don't
spoil it for me now." And she turned to Aagot and said: "Didn't you find
it so, too?"
"But, dear Mrs. Hanka," exclaimed Milde, "don't say that I am always
unkind to Ojen! Do I not wish him success with his application for the
subsidy, contrary to my own interests? But this blessed new 'intention' is
beyond me. Memories--all right. But where, in Heaven's name, is the point?
Jehovah has never visited him; it is an invention. And, furthermore, why
didn't he choose both Youth and Beauty, and Truth as well? That is what I
should have done. The point, I say!"
"But that is just it--there is no definite point," replied Ole Henriksen.
"So Ojen says in a letter to me. Its effect lies in its euphony, he says."
"He does? No, that fellow is the same wherever he goes. That is the
trouble. Not even the mountains can do anything for him. Goats' milk and
pine woods and peasant girls have not the slightest effect on him, as it
were--I am still at a loss to understand why he sent _you_ his
manuscript, Ole; but if it is an offence to ask, of course, then--"
"I really don't know why he sent it to me," said Ole quietly. "He tells me
that he wanted me to see that he was doing something and not wasting his
time altogether. He is anxious to get back, though; he cannot stand
Torahus any longer."
Milde whistled.
"I understand! He asked you for carfare!"
"I do not suppose he has much money left. That could hardly be expected,"
answered Ole, and put the manuscript in his pocket. "As for me, I think it
is a remarkable poem, irrespective of your opinion."
"Surely, old fellow; but please don't talk about poetry," interrupted
Milde. And as it dawned on him that he had been a little too rude to the
poor peddler in Aagot's presence, he added hurriedly: "I mean--Isn't it
too much of a bore to talk about poetry and poetry all the time? Give us,
for a change, a little fishery talk, a little railway politics--Isn't it a
fierce lot of rye you are storing, Tidemand?"
As Tidemand saw many eyes upon him, he could not entirely ignore the
Artist's question, and he answered:
"Yes, I have tried to strike a modest blow; I cannot deny it. It all
depends now on how things turn out in Russia. If, in spite of everything
that had been forecasted, the crops should prove even middling, it does
not look any too bright for me and my rye. Rains in Russia now would
mean--"
"Rains are falling now," said Gregersen. "The English papers have been
informed of a sufficient rainfall in the larger provinces. Are you selling
your rye already?"
Of course, Tidemand had bought to sell if he could get his price.
Milde had moved over to Paulsberg, and spoke to him in a low whisper.
Ojen's prose poem had caused him some anxiety. Perhaps, after all, there
was something to this fellow, this competitor in the matter of the
subsidy. What was Paulsberg's opinion?
"You know I don't care to speak for or against in such a matter," said
Paulsberg. "But I have called at the ministry a few times and expressed my
preference. I hope it may carry some weight."
"Of course, of course, I didn't mean--Well, the Exhibition closes
to-morrow. We ought to get busy and finish that picture of yours. Can you
sit tomorrow?"
Paulsberg nodded and turned away.
Irgens had gradually lost his good spirits; it irritated him that no one
had mentioned his book. It was the latest event; why wasn't it even
referred to? Everybody was only too familiar with Ojen's filigree fancies.
Irgens shrugged his shoulders. Paulsberg had not indicated approval of his
book by a single word. Perhaps he was waiting to be asked? But Irgens
could get along without Paulsberg's opinion.
Irgens rose.
"Are you going?" asked Mrs. Hanka.
Irgens said good night to her and to Miss Aagot, nodded to the others, and
left Sara's.
He had only gone a few steps when he heard somebody call him. Mrs. Hanka
was hurrying after him; she had left her wraps in the cafe and had
followed in order to say good night properly. Wasn't that nice of her? She
smiled and was very happy.
"I have hardly seen you since I got your book. How I have enjoyed every
word!" she exclaimed, and put her hand in his coat pocket in order to be
close to him. He felt that she left an envelope in his pocket. "Oh, your
verses, your verses!" she said again and again.
He could not remain impassive in the presence of this warm admiration. He
wanted to return it, to show her how fond he was of her, and while in this
mood he confided to her that he, too, had applied for the subsidy. What
did she think of that? He had really applied, briefly and without
enclosing any recommendations, simply sending his book. That ought to be
sufficient.
Mrs. Hanka did not answer at once.
"You have suffered, then," she said; "you have lacked--I mean, you have
had to apply like the others--"
"Well, good Lord," he answered, and laughed, "what are the subsidies for,
anyway? I have not suffered want; but why not apply when one can do it
without loss of prestige? And I did not humble myself; be sure of that. 'I
hereby apply for the subsidy and enclose my last book'--that was all.
There was no kowtowing whatever. And when I survey my fellow applicants I
hardly think I shall be entirely eclipsed. What is your opinion?"
She smiled and said:
"No, you will not be eclipsed."
He put his arm around her and said:
"Now, Hanka, you must go back--I can endure it all as long as you are in
town, but when you go away it will look very dark for me! I shan't know
what to do with myself then."
"I am only going to the country," she said.
"Isn't that enough? We shall be separated just the same, for you know I
cannot leave the city. When are you going?"
"I imagine in about a week."
"I wish you wouldn't go away, Hanka!" he exclaimed, and stood still.
Mrs. Hanka reflected.
"Would it really please you so much if I stayed?" she asked. "All right;
then I'll stay. Yes, I will. It will be hard on the children, but--Anyway,
it is enough for me that I make you glad."
They had reached Sara's once more.
"Good night," he said happily. "Thank you, Hanka! When shall I see you
again? I am longing--"