"My friend--big, great, tall, large--is he where? Have you him to see
where? Here?"
(I had to put it that way because Scandinavian grammar is not a strong
point with me, and my knowledge of the verbs is as yet limited to the
present tense of the infinitive mood. Besides, this was no time to worry
about grace of style.)
A crowd gathered round us, attracted by the man's terrified expression.
I appealed to them generally. I said:
"My friend B.--head, red--boots, yellow, brown, gold--coat, little
squares--nose, much, large! Is he where? Him to see--anybody--where?"
Not a soul moved a hand to help me. There they stood and gaped!
I repeated it all over again louder, in case anybody on the outskirts of
the mob had not heard it; and I repeated it in an entirely new accent. I
gave them every chance I could.
They chatted excitedly among themselves, and, then a bright idea seemed
to strike one of them, a little more intelligent-looking than the rest,
and he rushed outside and began running up and down, calling out
something very loudly, in which the word "Norwegian" kept on occurring.
He returned in a few seconds, evidently exceedingly pleased with himself,
accompanied by a kindly-looking old gentleman in a white hat.
Way was made in the crowd, and the old gentleman pressed forward. When
he got near, he smiled at me, and then proceeded to address to me a
lengthy, but no doubt kindly meant, speech in Scandinavian.
Of course, it was all utterly unintelligible to me from beginning to end,
and my face clearly showed this. I can grasp a word or two of
Scandinavian here and there, if pronounced slowly and distinctly; but
that is all.
The old gentleman regarded me with great surprise. He said (in
Scandinavian, of course):
"You speak Norwegian?"