I
A party of ladies and gentlemen had gathered on the jetty on the day of
the excursion. They were waiting for the Paulsbergs, who were late. Irgens
was growing impatient and sarcastic: Would it not be better to send the
yacht up for them? When finally Paulsberg and his wife arrived, they all
went aboard and were soon tacking out the fiord.
Tidemand held the tiller. A couple of warehousemen from Henriksen's wharf
were along as crew. Ole had arranged the trip carefully and had brought
along a choice supply of provisions; he had even remembered roasted coffee
for Irgens. But he had failed to find Coldevin, and he had purposely
avoided asking Gregersen; the Journalist might have heard the news from
Russia, and might inadvertently have betrayed the fatal tidings.
Tidemand looked as if he had spent a sleepless night. To Ole's whispered
inquiry, he answered smilingly that things might be worse. But he asked to
be allowed to keep his place at the tiller.
And the yacht tacked out toward the reefs.
Mrs. Hanka had chosen a place far forward; her face was fresh, and she had
thrown her fur coat around her shoulders; Milde said she looked
picturesque. He added loudly and gaily:
"And furthermore I wish it were drink time!"
Ole brought out bottles and glasses. He went around and wrapped the ladies
in shawls and blankets. Nothing to laugh about; true, the day was bright
and warm, but the sea air was treacherous. He repeatedly offered to
relieve Tidemand at the tiller, but was not permitted to. No, this was the
place for Tidemand; here he would not have to be entertaining, and he was
not in a mood for social amenities.
"Don't lose your nerve whatever happens! Have you heard anything further?"
"Only a confirmation. We shall get it officially to-morrow, I guess. But
don't worry; I have laid my lines now and shall manage to pull through
somehow. I imagine I shall save the ship."
Forward the spirits of the company rose rapidly. Ojen began to get a
little seasick, and drank steadily in order to subdue his qualms.
"It seems good to see you again," said Mrs. Hanka, prompted by a desire to
enliven him. "You still have your delicate face, but it is not quite as
pale as before you went away."
"But what is the matter with your eyes?" cried Mrs. Paulsberg mercilessly.
"I have never seen him as pallid as at this very moment."
This reference to his seasickness caused general merriment. Mrs. Hanka
continued to speak: She had heard his latest poem, that exquisite gem,
"Memories." His excursion had certainly been fruitful in results.
"You haven't heard my very latest poem, though," said Ojen in a weak
voice; "it has an Egyptian subject; the action takes place in an ancient
tomb--" And, sick and miserable as he was, he looked through all his
pockets for this poem. What could have become of it? He had taken it out
that morning with the intention of bringing it along; he had thought that
perhaps somebody would care to listen to it. He was not afraid of saying
that it really was a little out of the ordinary. He sincerely hoped he
hadn't lost it; in that case the trip would have proved most unfortunate
for him. Never had he produced anything so remarkable; it was only a
couple of pages, but....
"No," said Mrs. Hanka, "you must surely have left it behind." And she did
her best to make the poor poet forget his groundless fears. She had been
told that he preferred the city to the country?
He did, most assuredly. No sooner had his eyes beheld the straight lines
of streets and houses than his brain was aquiver, and he had conceived
that Egyptian prose poem. If that had been lost, now....
Milde had lately begun to appreciate Ojen; at last his eyes had been
opened to his poetry's delicate uniqueness. Irgens, who sat close enough
to hear this unusual praise, leaned over to Mrs. Hanka and said in a low
voice:
"You understand? Milde knows he has nothing to fear from his competitor
any more--hence his change of attitude." And Irgens pressed his lips
together and smiled venomously.
Mrs. Hanka glanced at him. How he persisted in his bitterness; how
unbecoming it was in him! He did not realise it, or he would not have thus
compressed his lips and continually shot baleful glances at his fellow
applicants. Otherwise Irgens was silent; he ignored Aagot entirely. She
thought: What have I done to him? Could I possibly have acted in any other
way?
The coffee was made on board, but out of regard for Ojen, who still felt
badly, it was decided to drink it on the very first reef they should
reach. They camped on the rocks, flung themselves on the ground, and threw
dignity to the winds. It was great fun; Ojen looked with big, astonished
eyes at everything--the sea, the waves which filled the air with a
continuous roar, the barren reef where not a tree grew and where the grass
was yellow from sun and spray. Aagot skipped round with cups and glasses;
she walked in a constant fear of dropping anything and stuck the tip of
her tongue out like a rope-walker.
Milde proposed that they drink her health. "Haven't you got champagne,
Ole?" he asked.
The champagne was produced, the glasses filled, and the toast drunk amid
cheers. Milde was in high spirits; he proposed that they throw the bottle
in the sea with a note enclosed which they all were to sign.
They all put their names down except Paulsberg, who curtly refused. A man
who wrote as much as he did could not sign his name to nonsensical notes,
he said. And he rose and walked away in dignified aloofness.
"Then I'll sign for him," said Milde, and seized a pencil.
But Mrs. Paulsberg cried indignantly:
"You will do nothing of the kind! Paulsberg has said that he does not want
his name on the note, and that ought to be sufficient for all of us." She
looked quite offended as she crossed her legs and held her cup in her
usual masculine fashion.
Milde apologised instantly; his proposition was meant as a harmless joke;
however, after considering the matter he admitted that perhaps it was a
little foolish and that it would not do for Paulsberg to have anything to
do with it. Perhaps they had better drop the whole thing; what did they
think? If Paulsberg wasn't going to be in it, then....
Irgens could not control himself any longer; he sneered openly and almost
hissed:
"Mr. Subsidist! You are divine!"
That subsidy was never out of his thoughts.
"And as for you," answered Milde scathingly, glaring at him with angry
eyes, "it is getting so that it is impossible to be near you."
Irgens feigned surprise.
"What is that? It would appear from your tone that I have offended you."
Mrs. Hanka had to intervene. Couldn't they stop quarrelling even on a
pleasure trip? They ought to be ducked if they couldn't behave!
And Irgens was silent at once; he did not even mumble maliciously between
his teeth. Mrs. Hanka grew thoughtful. How her poet and hero had changed
in a few brief weeks! What had really happened? How dull and lustreless
his dark eyes had become! Even his moustache seemed to be drooping; he had
lost his fresh immaculateness; he was not nearly as alluring as before.
But then she reminded herself of his disappointments, of that miserable
subsidy, and of his book, his beautiful lyric creation which they were
conspiring to kill by their studied silence. She leaned toward Aagot and
said:
"It is sad to observe how bitter Irgens has grown; have you noticed it? I
hope he will get over it soon." And Mrs. Hanka, who wanted to save him
from making too unfavourable an impression, added in the goodness of her
heart what she had heard Irgens himself say so often: It was not so
strange, after all; bitterness of that character could only arouse
respect. Here he had toiled and worked for years, had given freely of his
treasures, and the country, the government, had refused to offer him a
helping hand.
"Can you understand it?" said Aagot also. And she realised instantly that
she had not treated this man with the consideration due him; she had been
tactless; she had rebuffed him with unnecessary harshness. She wished her
conduct had been different; however, it was too late now.
Paulsberg returned from his solitary walk and suggested that it was time
to think of the return. The clouds held a menace of rain, he said; the sun
was sinking and it was blowing up a little.
Aagot went around again and poured coffee. She bent over Irgens, bent
deeper than necessary, and said:
"May I pour you some, Mr. Irgens?"
The almost supplicating note in her voice made him glance at her in
surprise. He did not want any coffee, thanks; but he smiled at her. She
was happy at once; she hardly knew what she was carrying, but she
stammered:
"Just a little, please."