What did he mean? But when the witty dog reached the declaration that he could only thrive in a high spiritual altitude, then the guests broke into peals of merriment and understood that it was a capital hoax. The merry blade—hadn't he almost fooled them all! "Poor remnants of the intellectual life of the seventies!" Didn't we have Paulsberg and Irgens, and Ojen and Milde, and the two close-cropped poets, and an entire army of first-class, sprouting talents besides!
The Journalist himself laughed and wiped his forehead and laughed again. It was generally believed that this fellow was possessed of a literary talent which had not entirely stagnated in his newspaper. A book might be expected from him some day, a remarkable work.
Paulsberg forced a smile. In reality he was offended because nobody had alluded to his novels or to his work on the Atonement during the entire evening. When therefore the Journalist asked him his opinion concerning the intellectual life of the nation, his reply was brief:
"It seems to me I have had occasion to express an opinion somewhere in my works."
Of course, of course; when they came to think of it they certainly remembered it. It was true; a speech somewhere or other. Mrs. Paulsberg quoted from book and page.
But Paulsberg made up his mind to leave now.
"I'll come and sit for you to-morrow," he said to Milde, with a glance at the easel. He got up, emptied his glass, and found his overcoat. His wife pressed everybody's hand vigorously. They met Mrs. Hanka and Irgens in the door.
From now on the merriment knew no bounds; they drank like sponges; even the two young poets kept up as well as they could, and talked with bloodshot eyes about Baudelaire. Milde demanded to know why Irgens had asked him for coffee. Why did he need coffee? He hoped he had not been making preparations to kiss Mrs. Hanka? Damn him, he would hate to trust him…. Tidemand hears this and he laughs with the others, louder than the others, and he says: "You are right, he is not to be trusted, the sly dog!" Tidemand was sober as always.
They did not restrain themselves; the conversation was free and they swore liberally. When all was said and done, it was prudery that was Norway's curse and Norway's bane; people preferred to let their young girls go to the dogs in ignorance rather than enlighten them while there was time. Prudery was the nourishing vice of the moment. So help me, there ought to be public men appointed for the sole purpose of shouting obscenity on the streets just to make young girls acquainted with certain things while there was still time. What, do you object, Tidemand?
No, Tidemand did not object, and Ole Henriksen did not object. The idea was original, to say the least. Ha, ha!
Milde got Tidemand over in a corner.
"It is like this," he said, "I wonder if you have got a couple of crowns?"
Yes; Tidemand was not entirely stripped. How much? A ten-spot?
"Thanks, old man, I'll give it back to you shortly," said Milde in all seriousness. "Very soon, now. You are a brick! It is not more than a couple of days since I said that you hucksters were great fellows. That is exactly what I said. Here is my hand!"
Mrs. Hanka got up at last; she wanted to leave. It was beginning to grow light outside.
Her husband kept close by her.
"Yes, Hanka, that is right—let us be going," he said. He was on the point of offering her his arm.
"Thank you, my friend, but I have an escort," she said with an indifferent glance.
It took him a moment to recover himself.
"Oh, I see," he said with a forced smile. "It is all right; I only thought—"
He walked over to the window and remained standing there.
Mrs. Hanka said good night to everybody. When she came to Irgens she whispered eagerly, breathlessly: "To-morrow, then, at three." She kept Ojen's hand in hers and asked him when he was going. Had he remembered to make reservations at Torahus? No; she might have known it; these poets were always forgetting the most essential. He would have to telegraph at once. Good-bye! And get well soon…. She was maternal to the last.
The Journalist accompanied her.
VI
"You said there was something you wanted to tell me," said Tidemand.
"Yes; so there is—You were surprised that I wanted to go along to Torahus. Of course, I said that I had business there. That is not so; I just said that. I know nobody there except Lynums; that is all there is to it. I did really visit their house once. You never heard anything so ridiculous; we came there, two thirsty tourists, and they gave us milk; since then I have met the family when they came to town last fall and this winter. It is quite a family—seven altogether, including the tutor. The oldest daughter's name is Aagot. I'll tell you more about them later. Aagot was eighteen the 7th of December; ha, ha! she is in her nineteenth year; I happen to remember that she told me. In short, we are not exactly engaged; I don't mean to say that; we have only written to each other once in a while. But there is no telling what may happen—What do you say to that?"
Tidemand was more than surprised; he stopped.
"But I had not the slightest idea; you haven't said a word to me about it!"
"No; I was hardly in a position to say anything yet. There is nothing definite; she is very young, you know. Suppose she had changed her mind? She may tell me she has other intentions when I get there. In that case nothing can be said against her; the execution will take place without witnesses; her reputation will have suffered nothing—I want you to see her, Andreas; I have a picture of her. I won't say that she gave it to me; I almost took it forcibly; but—"
They stopped a moment and looked at the photograph.
"Charming!" said Tidemand.
"Isn't she? I am glad you think so. I am sure you will like her."
They walked on.
"I want to congratulate you!" said Tidemand and stopped again.
"Thanks!" Ole added a moment afterward: "Yes, I thank you. I may as well tell you that it is really decided, practically, that is. I am going up to bring her to town with me."
They had almost reached the Railway Square when Tidemand suddenly stared straight ahead and whispered:
"But isn't that my wife there ahead of us?"
"Yes; so it is," whispered Ole. "I have noticed this lady ahead of us a long while; it is only now I see who it is."
Mrs. Hanka walked home alone; the Journalist had not accompanied her at all.
"Thank God!" exclaimed Tidemand involuntarily. "She told me she had an escort, and now she goes home all alone. Isn't she a darling? She is going straight home. But tell me—why did she say she had an escort?"
"Oh, you mustn't take such things too literally," answered Ole. "She probably did not want anybody to go with her, neither you nor I nor anybody else. Couldn't she feel that way inclined, perhaps? Young ladies have their moods, just like you or me."
"Of course, that is perfectly true." Tidemand accepted this explanation. He was happy because his wife was alone and was making straight for home. He said, nervously glad: "Do you know, to judge by a few words I had with her this evening it seems as if things were coming around more and more. She even asked about the business, about the Russian customs duty; honest, she wanted to know everything about Fürst. You should have seen how delighted she was because business is looking up again. We spoke about our summer vacation, our country house. Yes, it is getting a little better every day."
"There you are—didn't I tell you? It certainly would be a pity otherwise."
Pause.
"There is something I am at a loss to explain, though," continued Tidemand, worried again. "Here lately she has been talking about what a woman like herself should do with her life. She must have a career, something to do and