She tears open the parcel and looks inside. “Oh, fancy Mama thinking of
that. The opera-glasses! We've been to the theatre already.... I didn't
recognize you at first.”
“Really! It's not so very long since....”
“No, but.... Tell me, isn't there any one else you'd like to inquire
about? Haha!”
“Yes,” said I.
“Well, she's not here. I'm only staying here with my relations. No,
she's at the Victoria.”
“Well, the parcel was for you,” said I, trying to master my
disappointment.
“Wait a minute. I was just going out again; we can go together.”
Frøken Elisabeth puts on some over-things, calls out through a door
to say she won't be very long, and goes out with me. We take a cab and
drive to a quiet café. Frøken Elisabeth says yes, she loves going to
cafés. But there's nothing very amusing about this one.
Would she rather go somewhere else?
“Yes. To the Grand.”
I hesitated; it might be hardly safe. I had been away for a long time
now, and if we met any one I knew I might have to talk to them. But
Frøkenen insisted on Grand. She had had but a few days' practice in the
capital, and had already gained a deal of self-assurance. But I liked
her so much before.
We drove off again to Grand. It was getting towards evening. Frøkenen
picks out a seat right in the brightest spot, beaming all over herself
at the fun of it. I ordered some wine.
“What fine clothes you're wearing now,” she says, with a laugh.
“I couldn't very well come in here in a workman's blouse.”
“No, of course not. But, honestly, that blouse ... shall I tell you what
I think?”
“Yes, do.”
“The blouse suited you better.”
There! Devil take these town clothes! I sat there with my head full of
other things, and did not care for this sort of talk.
“Are you staying long in town?” I asked.
“As long as Lovise does. We've finished our shopping. No, I'm sorry;
it's all too short.” Then she turns gay once more, and asks laughingly:
“Did you like being with us out in the country?”
“Yes. That was a pleasant time.”
“And will you come again soon? Haha!”
She seemed to be making fun of me. Trying, of course, to show she saw
through me: that I hadn't played--my part well enough as a country
labourer. Child that she was! I could teach many a labourer his
business, and had more than one trade at my finger-ends. Though in my
true calling I manage to achieve just the next best of all I dream....
“Shall I ask Papa to put up a notice on the post next spring, to say
you're willing to lay down water-pipes and so on?”
She closed her eyes and laughed--so heartily she laughed.
I am torn with excitement, and her merriment pains me, though it is all
good-humoured enough. I glance round the place, trying to pull myself
together; here and there an acquaintance nods to me, and I return it;
it all seems so far away to me. I was sitting with a charming girl, and
that made people notice us.
“You know these people, it seems?”
“Yes, one or two of them. Have you enjoyed yourself in town?”
“Oh yes, immensely. I've two boy cousins here, and then there were their
friends as well.”
“Poor young Erik, out in the country,” said I jestingly.
“Oh, you with your young Erik. No, there's one here in town; his name's
Bewer. But I'm not friends with him just now.”
“Oh, that won't last long.”
“Do you think so? Really, though, I'm rather serious about it. I've an
idea he might be coming in here this evening.”
“You must point him out to me if he does.”
“I thought, as we drove out here, that you and I could sit here
together, you know, and make him jealous.”
“Right, then, we will.”
“Yes, but.... No, you'd have to be a bit younger. I mean....”
I forced myself to laugh. Oh, we would manage all right. Don't despise
us old ones, us ancient ones, we can be quite surprisingly useful at
times. “Only you'd better let me sit on the sofa beside you there, so he
can't see I'm bald at the back.”
Eh, but it is hard to take that perilous transition to old age in any
quiet and beautiful way. There comes a forcedness, a play of jerky
effort and grimaces, the fight against those younger than ourselves, and
envy.
“Frøken....” I ask this of her now with all my heart. “Frøken, couldn't
you ring up Fru Falkenberg and get her to come round here now?”
She thinks for a moment.
“Yes, we will,” she says generously.
We go out to the telephone, ring up the Victoria: Fruen is there.
“Is that you, Lovise? You'd never guess who I'm with now? Won't you come
along? Oh, good! We're at the Grand. No, I can't tell you now. Yes, of
course it's a man--only he's a gentleman now--I won't say who it is. Are
you coming? Why, you said just now you would! Some people? Oh, well, do
as you like, of course, but I do think.... Yes, he's standing here. You
are in a hurry....”
Frøken Elisabeth rang off, and said shortly:
“She had to go and see some friends.”
We went back to our seat, and had some more wine; I tried to be
cheerful, and suggested champagne. Yes, thanks. And then, as we're
sitting there, Frøkenen says suddenly:
“Oh, there's Bewer! I'm so glad we're drinking champagne.”
But I have only one idea in my mind, and being now called upon to show
what I can do, and charm this young lady to the ultimate advantage of
some one else, I find myself saying one thing and thinking another.
Which, of course, leads to disaster. I cannot get that telephone
conversation out of my head; she must have had an idea--have realized
that it was I who was waiting for her here. But what on earth had I
done? Why had I been dismissed so suddenly from Øvrebø, and Falkenberg
taken on in my place. Quite possibly the Captain and his wife were not
always the best of friends, but the Captain had scented danger in
my being there, and wished to save his wife at least from such an
ignominious fall. And now, here she was, feeling ashamed that I had
worked on her place, that she had used me to drive her carriage, and
twice shared food with me by the way. And she was ashamed, too, of my
being no longer young....
“This will never do,” says Frøken Elisabeth.
So I pull myself together again, and start saying all manner of foolish
things, to make her laugh. I drink a good deal and that helps; at last,
she really seems to fancy I am making myself agreeable to her on her own
account. She looks at me curiously.
“No, really, though, do you think I'm nice?”
“Oh, please--don't you understand?--I was speaking of Fru Falkenberg.”
“Sh!” says Frøken Elisabeth. “Of course it is Fru Falkenberg; I know
that perfectly well, but you need not say so.... I really think we're
beginning to make an impression on him over there. Let's go on like we
are doing, and look interested.”
So she hadn't imagined I was trying on my own account, after all. I was
too old for that sort of thing, anyway. Devil take it, yes, of course.
“But you can't get Fru Falkenberg,” she says, beginning again. “It's
simply hopeless.”
“No, I can't get her. Nor you either.”
“Are you speaking to Fru Falkenberg now again?”
“No, it was to you this time.”
Pause.
“Do you know I was in love with you? Yes, when I was at home.”
“This is getting quite amusing,” said I, shifting up on the sofa. “Oh,
we'll manage Bewer, never fear.”
“Yes, only fancy, I used to go up to the churchyard to meet you in the
evenings. But you, foolish person, you didn't see it a bit.”
“Now you're talking to Bewer, of course,” said I.
“No, it's perfectly true. And I came over one day when you were working
in the potato fields. It wasn't your young Erik I came to see, not a
bit.”
“Only think, that it should have been me,” I say, putting on a
melancholy air.
“Yes, of course you think it was strange. But really, you know, people
who live in the country must have some one to be fond of too.”
“Does Fru Falkenberg say the same?”
“Fru Falkenberg? No, she says she doesn't want to be fond of anybody,
only play her piano and that sort of thing. But I was speaking of
myself. Do you know what I did once? No, really, I can't tell you that.
Do you want to know?
“Yes, tell me.”
“Well, then ... for, after all, I'm only a child compared to you, so it
doesn't matter. It was when you were sleeping in the barn; I went over
there one day and laid your rugs together properly, and made a proper
bed.”
“Was it you did that?” I burst out quite sincerely, forgetting to play
my part.
“You ought to have seen me stealing in. Hahaha!”
But this young girl was--not artful enough, she changed colour at her
little confession, and laughed forcedly to cover her confusion.