The Best of Knut Hamsun. Knut Hamsun

a little threadbare. For a moment he wondered if perhaps she was in need, if he did not give her enough money? Why did she wear such old dresses? But he had sent her a good deal of money. Thank God, he was able to do that. In the beginning, when he was still struggling, he hadn't sent her such large amounts, it was true. He had grieved over it and written to her not to be impatient; it would be better soon. And she had thanked him and answered that he was sending her altogether too much; how was she going to use it all? She had lots and lots of money left.

      But why did she dress so shabbily, then?

      She had turned around; she recognised his voice when he spoke to the owner. He grew confused; he bowed smilingly to her as he had to the grocer, and she blushed deeply as she returned his bow.

      "Never mind about the rest," she said to the clerk in a low voice. "I'll get that some other time." And she paid hurriedly and gathered up her bundles. Tidemand followed her with his eyes. She stooped as she walked and looked abashed until she disappeared.

      VII

      And the days passed by. The town was quiet; everything was quiet.

      Irgens was still capable of surprising people and attracting everybody's attention. He had looked a little careworn and depressed for some time; his debts bothered him; he earned no money and nobody gave him any. Fall and winter were coming; it did not look any too bright for him. He had even been obliged to make use of a couple of last year's suits.

      Then all of a sudden he amazed everybody by appearing on the promenade, rehabilitated from top to toe in an elegant fall suit, with tan gloves and money in his pockets, distinguished and elegant as the old and only Irgens. People looked at him admiringly. Devil of a chap—he was unique! What kind of a diamond mine had he discovered? Oh, there was a head on these shoulders, a superior talent! He had been obliged to move from his former apartments on Thranes Road. Certainly; but what of it? He had taken other apartments in the residential district—elegant apartments, fine view, furniture upholstered in leather! He simply couldn't have stood it much longer in the old lodgings; his best moods were constantly being spoiled; he suffered. It was necessary to pay a little attention to one's surroundings if one cared to produce good work. Miss Lynum had come to town a week ago and was going to remain awhile; she made him feel like a new man. How the whole town burst into bloom and colour when Aagot returned!

      It had all been decided: they were going to get married next spring and pin their faith to next year's subsidy. It would seem that he must be recognised sometime, especially now when he was going to found a family and was publishing a new collection of poems. They couldn't starve him to death entirely; hardly that! And Irgens had approached Attorney Grande, who had approached the Minister personally in regard to next year's subsidy. "You know my circumstances," he had said to Grande. "I am not well off, but if you will speak to the Minister I shall be much obliged to you. Personally, I will do nothing. I cannot stoop to that!" Grande was a man whom Irgens otherwise honoured with his contempt. But it could not be helped; this brainless Attorney began to have influence; he had been appointed on a royal commission and had even been interviewed by the Gazette.

      When Tidemand told Ole that he had seen Aagot on the street it gave him a fearful shock. But he recovered himself quickly and said with a smile:

      "Well, how does that concern me? Let her be here as much as she likes; I have no objections. I have other things to worry about." He forced himself to renewed interest in the conversation, talked about Tidemand's new orders for tar, and said repeatedly: "Be sure to have the cargo well insured; it never hurts!" He was a little nervous but otherwise normal.

      They drank a glass of wine as of old. A couple of hours went by while they chatted cosily, and when Tidemand left Ole said, full of gratitude:

      "I am awfully glad that you came to see me. I know you have enough to do besides this—Listen," he continued; "let us go to the farewell performance of the opera this evening; I want you to come!" And the serious young man with the hollow eyes looked as if he were exceedingly anxious to attend that performance. He even said he had looked forward to it for several days.

      Tidemand promised to come; Ole said that he would get the tickets.

      No sooner had Tidemand left the office than Ole telephoned for the tickets he wanted—three tickets together, 11, 12, and 13. He was going to take No. 12 to Mrs. Hanka, to her room near the Fortress. She would surely want to come, for nobody could be fonder of the opera than she used to be. He rubbed his hands in satisfaction as he walked along—No. 12; she should sit between them. He would keep No. 13 for himself; that was a proper number for him, a most unlucky number.

      He walked faster and faster and forgot his own misery. He was done and through with it all; his sufferings lay behind; he had recovered fully. Had he been so very much shaken because Aagot had come to town? Not at all; it had not affected him in the least.

      And Ole walked on. He knew Mrs. Hanka's address well; more than once had he taken her home when she had called on him secretly, asking for news about the children. And had he not found Tidemand outside her windows that night he returned from England? How their thoughts were ever busy with each other! With him it was different; he had forgotten his experience and did not think of such things any more.

      But when he inquired for Mrs. Hanka he was told that she had gone away for a couple of days; she had gone to the country house. She would be back to-morrow.

      He listened and did not understand at once. The country house? Which country house?

      Of course, yes; Tidemand's country house. Ole glanced at his watch. No; it was too late to try and get Mrs. Hanka back to-day. What reason could he have given, anyway? He had wanted to surprise them both with his little scheme, but now it had become impossible. Alas, how everything turned out badly for him of late!

      Ole turned back.

      To the country house! How she haunted the old places! She had been unable to resist; she had to see once more that house and these grounds, although the leaves were almost gone and the garden was desolate. Oh! Aagot had intended to spend the summer there if everything had turned out all right. Well, that was another matter, something that did not concern him in the least.

      Ole was weary and disappointed. He decided to go to Tidemand at once and tell him everything. He had meant it for the best.

      "We shall have to go alone after all," he said. "I really have a ticket for your wife, though."

      Tidemand changed colour.

      "You have?" he simply said.

      "Yes, I had planned to have her sit between us; perhaps I ought to have told you beforehand; but any way, she has gone away and won't be back till to-morrow."

      "Is that so?" said Tidemand as before.

      "Listen, you mustn't be angry with me because of this! If you only knew— Your wife has called on me quite frequently of late; she asks about you and the children—"

      "That is all right."

      "What?"

      "I say, that is all right. But why do you tell me this?"

      Then Ole's anger blazed forth; he stuck his face close up to Tidemand's and shouted furiously, in a shrill voice:

      "I want to tell you something, damn you—you don't understand your own welfare! You are a fool, you are killing her—that will be the end of it. And you are doing your very best to go the same way yourself—don't you think I see it? 'That is all right'—so it is all right for her to steal down to me when darkness falls and ask about you and the children with the tears dripping from her eyes? Do you for a moment imagine it is for your sake I have been inquiring about your health these last months? Why should I ask if not for her? You personally can go to the devil as far as I am concerned. You say nothing; you cannot understand that she is wearing her heart away for you. I saw her outside your office once at midnight, saying good night to you and to the children. She wept and blew kisses to Johanna and Ida; she tiptoed up-stairs and caressed the door-knob because your hand had held it a moment before.