by Knut Hamsun
Up front, near the platform, he saw Dr. and Mrs. Stenersen, and slightly to their right stood Miniman, with the other actors in the tableaux. But Dagny wasn’t there.
The heat from the lamps and the crush of people soon drove him out of the hall. At the door he met Mr. Reinert, the deputy, to whom he bowed, receiving barely a nod in return. He remained standing in the hallway.
Then he noticed something which occupied his thoughts and made him curious even a long time afterward: on his left, the door is open to a room where the visitors have left their wraps, and by the light of the lamp in there he clearly sees Dagny Kielland fingering his coat, which he had hung on a hook. He was not mistaken, no one else in town had a yellow spring coat like that; it was definitely his, apart from the fact that he remembered exactly where he had hung it. She was doing this and nothing else; she seemed to be looking for something, at the same time taking the opportunity to brush his coat with her hand again and again. He quickly turned around so as not to catch her unawares.
This little incident made him uneasy all at once. What was she looking for, and what business did she have with his coat? These questions constantly occupied his thoughts, he couldn’t put them out of his mind. Heaven knows, maybe she had wanted to find out if he had firearms in his pockets; maybe she thought him crazy enough for anything. But what if she had sneaked a letter to him?
He did, in fact, bring himself so far as to imagine this happy impossibility. No, no, she had probably just been looking for her coat, the whole thing was a coincidence; how could he harbor such hopeless fancies! ... A little later, however, seeing Dagny make her way through the hall, he at once went out and searched his coat pockets, his heart pounding. There was no letter, nothing at all, only his own gloves and a handkerchief.
There was a crashing applause in the hall, the opening speech by the justice of the peace was over. And now the crowd streamed into the hallways and the adjoining rooms, looking all around for cool places, where they settled down along the walls to enjoy refreshments. Dressed like waitresses, in white aprons and with napkins on their arms, several of the town’s young ladies rushed about with trays and glasses in their hands.
Nagel was looking for Dagny; she was nowhere to be seen. He said hello to Miss Andresen, who was also in a white apron; he asked for wine but she brought him champagne.
He looked at her in surprise. “You never drink anything else,” she said, smiling.
While rather malicious, this compliment nevertheless made him livelier than he had been so far. He asked her to have a drink with him, and she sat down then and there, though she was very busy. He thanked her for her courtesy, complimented her on her costume, and was delighted by an old filigree brooch she was wearing on her neck band. She made a good appearance: her long aristocratic face with its rather large nose was extremely fine, almost morbidly fine, and it never changed; there were no nervous tics. She spoke with quiet composure, her presence conveyed a sense of security; she was a lady, the epitome of woman.
When she got up he said, “There’s supposed to be someone here this evening to whom I would be glad to show a little attention, Miss Gude, Martha Gude; I don’t know whether you’re acquainted with her. I was told she had gone into this room. I can’t tell you how glad I would be to do something nice for her; she’s so lonely. Miniman has told me about her. Don’t you think, Miss Andresen, that I could ask her to join us? Provided you don’t mind having her here, of course?”
“No, not at all!” Miss Andresen replies. “I’ll be delighted to find her right away. I know where she’s sitting.”
“You will come back, too, won’t you?”
“Yes, thank you.”
While Nagel is waiting, Mr. Reinert, the teacher, and Dagny come in. Nagel rises and bows to them. Dagny was pale, like himself, despite the heat; she was wearing a yellowish dress with short sleeves, and a gold chain around her neck that was far too heavy. The chain was most unbecoming. She paused by the door for a moment, holding one hand behind her back and picking at her braid.
Nagel walked up to her. In a few passionate words he begged her to forgive him for having offended her so cruelly last Friday; it would be the last time, the very last, she would never again have reason to forgive him anything. He spoke in a low voice, said what had to be said and stopped.
She listened to what he was saying, even looked at him, and when he finished she said, “I hardly know what you’re talking about, I’ve forgotten it—I want to forget it.”
With that she left. She had looked at him with great indifference.
People were buzzing everywhere; there was a clattering of cups and glasses, the popping of corks, laughter and cries, and from the hall came the strains of the town brass band, which was playing very poorly....
When Miss Andresen and Martha appeared, they had Miniman in tow; they all sat down at Nagel’s table, where they remained for a quarter of an hour. Miss Andresen occasionally went around with a tray to serve people who called for coffee; finally she disappeared altogether, having too much to do.
Now there followed the various items on the program: a quartet sang, Øien recited his own poem in a strong voice, two women played the piano, and the organist gave his first violin solo. Dagny was still sitting with the two gentlemen. Finally, Miniman was wanted for running errands; more glasses, more cups, more sandwiches had to be provided—they hadn’t figured on such a crowd, very big for this little town.
When Nagel was left alone with Martha, she too got up to go. She couldn’t sit there alone; she had already noticed Mr. Reinert remarking on it, making Miss Kielland laugh. No, she had better leave.
But Nagel persuaded her to have another nip anyway. Martha was dressed in black; her new dress fitted her nicely, but was not becoming, making the quaint-looking spinster look older and contrasting too sharply with her white hair. However, her eyes were smoldering, and when she laughed her ardent face came vividly alive.
“Are you having a good time?” he asked. “Do you feel happy this evening?”
“Yes, thank you!” she replied, “I feel great.”
He kept the conversation going without a break. In an attempt to humor her, he hit on the idea of telling her an anecdote, which made her laugh a lot, the story of how he had obtained one of his most precious cowbells. A treasure, a priceless antique! The name of a cow was engraved on it; the cow was called Øystein, of all things, so it must almost certainly have been a bull....
This set her laughing in no time. Forgetting herself and where she was, she shook her head and laughed like a child at this poor piece of drollery. She was positively radiant.
“Can you imagine,” he said, “I think Miniman was jealous.”
“No,” she replied hesitantly.
“I had that impression. For that matter, I do prefer to sit here alone with you. It’s such fun to hear you laugh.”
She didn’t reply, merely lowered her eyes.
They went on talking. He sat all along in such a way that he could keep an eye on Dagny’s table.
A few minutes went by. Miss Andresen came back for a moment, said a few words, took a sip from her glass and went off again.
Suddenly Dagny left her seat and came over to Nagel’s table. “You’re having a great time, aren’t you?” she said, a slight tremor in her voice. “Good evening, Martha! What are you both laughing about?”
“We’re amusing ourselves as best we can,” Nagel replied. “I chatter away and Miss Gude is much too easy on me; she has laughed a great many times.... May we offer you a glass?”
Dagny sat down.
An exceptionally loud roar of applause from the hall gave Martha a pretext to get up and see what was going on. She drew farther and farther away, until finally she called back, “It’s a magician, that I have to see!” And she went off.
Pause.
“You’ve abandoned your companions,” Nagel said. He would have said more, but suddenly Dagny interrupted him, “And yours has abandoned you.”
“Oh, she’s sure to come back. Doesn’t Miss Gude look wonderful? She’s happy as a child this evening.”
Dagny made no reply, but asked, “You’ve been away for a while, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
Pause.
“Do you really find it so enjoyable here this evening?”
“I? I don’t even know what’s going on,” he replied. “I didn’t exactly come here to enjoy myself.”
“Then what did you come here for?”
“To see you again, naturally. Well, only at a distance, of course, without a word—”
“I see. And that’s why you brought a partner, is it?”
That he failed to understand. He looked at her and considered a moment.
“Are you referring to Miss Gude? I don’t know how to answer you. I’ve heard so much about her; she sits at home year after year alone, she doesn’t have a single joy in her life. It wasn’t I who brought her here, I only wanted to entertain her a little so she wouldn’t be bored, that’s all. Miss Andresen got her to come over to this table. Good grief, how that woman has suffered! No wonder her hair has turned white....”
“But you don’t think, do you—you don’t imagine I’m jealous, do you? You’re mistaken! Oh, I remember what you told me about some madman who went for a drive with twenty-four carriages; the man was a s-stammerer, as you said, and he fell in love with a girl named Klara. Oh sure, I remember it well enough. And since Klara refused to have anything to do with the man, she couldn’t stand the idea of her hunchbacked sister having him either. I don’t know why you told me this, that you know best yourself, and I don’t care. But you won’t succeed in making me jealous, if that’s what you’ve been trying to do this evening. Neither you nor your s-stammerer!”
“But good Lord!” he said. “You can’t possibly mean what you’re saying.”
Pause.
“Yes, I do mean it,” she replied.
“You mean to say that this is what I would do if I wanted to make you jealous? Show up with a forty-year-old woman and let her go, drop her, as soon as you appeared? You must take me for a fool.”
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you are, I only know that you sneaked up on me and caused me the most painful hours of my entire life, and that I no longer understand myself. I don’t know whether you’re a fool, any more than I know whether you are a madman, and I’m not going to bother to find out; I don’t care what you are.”
“Yes, I expect you don’t,” he said.
“And why should I care?” she went on, irritated by his compliance. “What on earth do I have to do with you? You’ve behaved badly toward me, so how can you expect me to occupy myself with you, on top of everything? Still, you told me a story full of insinuations—I’m quite sure you didn’t tell me this thing about Klara and her sister without some reason, no, you didn’t! But why are you pursuing me? I don’t mean at this moment, right now it was I who sought you out, but generally; why don’t you just leave me alone? I suppose you see my stopping for a minute to have a few words with you as a sign of how important it is to me, how urgent—”
“My dear Miss Kielland, I labor under no such delusions.”
“No? But I can never tell whether you’re telling the truth, no, I can’t. I have doubts about you, I distrust you, I suspect you may be capable of just about anything. It’s quite possible I’m being unjust to you right now, but why shouldn’t I be allowed to hurt you for once? I’m so tired of all your insinuations and your scheming ways....”
He said not a word, just slowly turned his glass around on the table. And when she said again that she didn’t believe him, he merely answered, “I deserve that.”
“Yes,” she went on, “my belief is extremely limited as far as you’re concerned. I’ve even suspected your shoulders, that your broad shoulders might be cotton wool.1 To be quite frank, a short while ago I was in that room over there to examine your coat, to check whether the shoulders were padded. And though I was mistaken and there was nothing wrong with the shoulders, I’m still suspicious, I can’t help it. I’m fairly certain, for instance, that you would be capable of using any means whatsoever to add a couple of inches to your height, since you’re not very tall. I’m quite confident you would, if such means were available. Good God, how could one help being mistrustful of you! Who are you, really? And why did you come to this town? You aren’t even using your own name, your real name is Simonsen, quite simply Simonsen! This I have from the hotel. They say you had a visit from a lady who knew you and called out Simonsen before you could stop her. Again, good Lord, how mean and absurd! They also say in town that you hand out cigars to little boys for a joke, and that you commit one scandal after another in the streets. Thus, I’m told you accosted a servant girl you met in Market Square one day, asking her something in the presence of several people. But despite all this you think it quite all right to make me declarations and to present yourself to me time after time and—. That’s what pains me so unspeakably, that you have the audacity to—”
She broke off. The corners of her mouth twitched, betraying her emotion. Every word she spoke was impetuous and sincere, she meant what she said and pulled no punches. There was a brief pause before he answered. “You’re right, I’ve caused you great pain.... Obviously, when people watch you day after day for a whole month, taking note of your every word and deed, they can always find something bad to latch on to. They may even do you an injustice, though not serious enough to do much harm, I admit. This is not a big town, I catch people’s eyes, they trip over me; they keep their eyes peeled when I am within sight, there’s no avoiding it. And, of course, I’m not as I should be.”
“Heavens, yes! Naturally it is because the town is so small that you are watched so closely,” she said in a curt, sharp tone of voice, “that stands to reason. In a larger town you wouldn’t be the only man to attract people’s attention.”
This cold and very correct reply at first evoked downright admiration on his part. He was on the point of rewarding it with some compliment or other, but thought better of it. She was overly worked up and had too many things against him; besides, she might have gone too far in belittling him. That made him feel a bit hurt. What was he in her eyes, after all? A quite ordinary stranger in a little town, a man who was noticed simply because he was a stranger in town and wore a yellow suit. He said with some bitterness, “But aren’t they also saying that I once wrote a lewd verse on a tombstone, on Mina Meek’s tombstone? Didn’t anyone see it? It’s true, though, yes, it is. It’s also true that I went to the town pharmacy, this very town’s pharmacy, and ordered some medicines for a foul disease I’d written down on a slip of paper, but couldn’t get the medicines because I didn’t have a prescription. And while I remember, hasn’t Miniman told you that I tried to bribe him one day by offering him two hundred kroner to assume paternity for my child? That, too, is the simple truth, Miniman himself can testify to it. I’m sure I could add many more features, alas—”
“There’s no need, you have mentioned plenty,” she replied defiantly. And with her eyes turning cold and hard, she reminded him of the fake telegrams, the wealth he had telegraphically credited himself with, the violin case he was dragging about with him, though he didn’t have a violin or know how to play, of one thing after another, all his deceptions, even his lifesaving medal which, by his own admission, he hadn’t acquired in the most honorable way either. She remembered everything and didn’t spare him; at this moment every trifle took on significance for her, and she let him know that she now believed he had really perpetrated all those mean pranks she had previously thought were lies calculated to blacken himself with. He was an insolent, shady type, all right, no doubt about it! “And with all that,” she said, “you still try to catch me off guard and unnerve me, to inveigle me to some escapade. You have no sense of shame, no heart for anyone but yourself, you simply keep making me one declaration after another—”
At this moment she was interrupted by Dr. Stenersen
, who was elbowing his way from the hall, looking very busy. He was taken up with the bazaar and didn’t spare himself.
“Good evening, Mr. Nagel!” he cried. “I remember with pleasure that night in your place. What a wild time we had of it—. Oh say, Miss Kielland, you’d better watch out, we shall be getting up the tableaux presently.”
With that the doctor disappeared again.
Another musical number started up, and a sense of excitement swept through the hall. Dagny leaned forward and peeked through the door, before she again turned to Nagel and said, “Here’s Martha coming back.”
Pause.
“Didn’t you hear what I said?”
“Oh yes,” he replied absentmindedly. Without looking up, he just continued to turn his full glass around and around without drinking, his bowed head nearly touching the table.
“Hush!” she said mockingly, “they’re playing again. When one listens to that kind of music one should preferably be at some distance from it, don’t you think, in an adjoining room holding the hand of one’s beloved—isn’t that what you said once? I believe it’s the very same Lanner waltz, and now that Martha is coming—”
But suddenly she seemed to regret her spitefulness; she broke off, a glint appeared in her eyes, and she nervously shifted on her chair. His head was still bent over, she could only see how quick and irregular his breathing was. Rising, she picked up her glass and was going to say something, a few last words, more amiable and not apt to cause him pain. She began by saying, “I have to go now.”
He gave her a quick glance, rose to his feet and picked up his glass. They both drank in silence. He forced himself to keep his hand from shaking, she could see he was struggling to appear composed. Suddenly this man, whom she had just thought annihilated, crushed by her mockery, says quite politely and nonchalantly, “By the way, Miss Kielland, will you be so kind—I don’t suppose I’ll see you again—will you be so kind when you write your fiancé to remind him sometime, at your own convenience, of a pair of shirts he promised Miniman once, two years ago now. I apologize for poking my nose into this, which after all doesn’t concern me, I’m only doing it for Miniman’s sake. I hope you will excuse my boldness. Tell him it was two woolen shirts, then he’ll be sure to remember.”