Part 11 (1/2)

”No disturbance in the street,” says the constable; ”so, march,” and he gives me a shove on.

”Is them your papers?” he calls after me.

”Yes, by Jove! my newspaper leader; many important papers! However could I be so careless?” I s.n.a.t.c.h up my ma.n.u.script, convince myself that it is lying in order and go, without stopping a second or looking about me, towards the editor's office.

It was now four by the clock of Our Saviour's Church. The office is shut. I stead noiselessly down the stairs, frightened as a thief, and stand irresolutely outside the door. What should I do now? I lean up against the wall, stare down at the stones, and consider. A pin is lying glistening at my feet; I stoop and pick it up. Supposing I were to cut the b.u.t.tons off my coat, how much could I get for them? Perhaps it would be no use, though b.u.t.tons are b.u.t.tons; but yet, I look and examine them, and find them as good as new--that was a lucky idea all the same; I could cut them off with my penknife and take them to the p.a.w.n-office. The hope of being able to sell these five b.u.t.tons cheered me immediately, and I cried, ”See, see; it will all come right!” My delight got the upper hand of me, and I at once set to cut off the b.u.t.tons one by one. Whilst thus occupied, I held the following hushed soliloquy:

Yes, you see one has become a little impoverished; a momentary embarra.s.sment ... worn out, do you say? You must not make slips when you speak? I would like to see the person who wears out less b.u.t.tons than I do, I can tell you! I always go with my coat open; it is a habit of mine, an idiosyncrasy.... No, no; of course, if you _won't_, well!

But I must have a penny for them, at least.... No indeed! who said you were obliged to do it? You can hold your tongue, and leave me in peace.... Yes, well, you can fetch a policeman, can't you? I'll wait here whilst you are out looking for him, and I won't steal anything from you. Well, good-day! Good-day! My name, by the way, is Tangen; have been out a little late.

Some one comes up the stairs. I am recalled at once to reality. I recognize ”Scissors,” and put the b.u.t.tons carefully into my pocket. He attempts to pa.s.s; doesn't even acknowledge my nod; is suddenly intently busied with his nails. I stop him, and inquire for the editor.

”Not in, do you hear.”

”You lie,” I said, and, with a cheek that fairly amazed myself, I continued, ”I must have a word with him; it is a necessary errand--communications from the Stiftsgaarden. [Footnote: Dwelling of the civil governor of a Stift or diocese.]

”Well, can't you tell me what it is, then?”

”Tell you?” and I looked ”Scissors” up and down. This had the desired effect. He accompanied me at once, and opened the door. My heart was in my mouth now; I set my teeth, to try and revive my courage, knocked, and entered the editor's private office.

”Good-day! Is it you?” he asked kindly; ”sit down.”

If he had shown me the door it would have been almost as acceptable. I felt as if I were on the point of crying and said:

”I beg you will excuse....”

”Pray, sit down,” he repeated. And I sat down, and explained that I again had an article which I was extremely anxious to get into his paper. I had taken such pains with it; it had cost me much effort.

”I will read it,” said he, and he took it. ”Everything you write is certain to cost you effort, but you are far too impetuous; if you could only be a little more sober. There's too much fever. In the meantime, I will read it,” and he turned to the table again.

There I sat. Dared I ask for a s.h.i.+lling? explain to him why there was always fever? He would be sure to aid me; it was not the first time.

I stood up. Hum! But the last time I was with him he had complained about money, and had sent a messenger out to sc.r.a.pe some together for me. Maybe it might be the same case now. No; it should not occur! Could I not see then that he was sitting at work?

Was there otherwise anything? he inquired.

”No,” I answered, and I compelled my voice to sound steady. ”About how soon shall I call in again?”

”Oh, any time you are pa.s.sing--in a couple of days or so.”

I could not get my request over my lips. This man's friendliness seemed to me beyond bounds, and I ought to know how to appreciate it. Rather die of hunger! I went. Not even when I was outside the door, and felt once more the pangs of hunger, did I repent having left the office without having asked for that s.h.i.+lling. I took the other shaving out of my pocket and stuck it into my mouth. It helped. Why hadn't I done so before? ”You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” I said aloud. ”Could it really have entered your head to ask the man for a s.h.i.+lling and put him to inconvenience again?” and I got downright angry with myself for the effrontery of which I had almost been guilty. ”That is, by G.o.d! the shabbiest thing I ever heard,” said I, ”to rush at a man and nearly tear the eyes out of his head just because you happen to need a s.h.i.+lling, you miserable dog! So--o, march! quicker! quicker! you big thumping lout; I'll teach you.” I commenced to run to punish myself, left one street after the other behind me at a bound, goaded myself on with suppressed cries, and shrieked dumbly and furiously at myself whenever I was about to halt. Thus I arrived a long way up Pyle Street, when at last I stood still, almost ready to cry with vexation at not being able to run any farther. I was trembling over my whole body, and I flung myself down on a step. ”No; stop!” I said, and, in order to torture myself rightly, I arose again, and forced myself to keep standing. I jeered at myself and hugged myself with pleasure at the spectacle of my own exhaustion. At length, after the lapse of a few moments, I gave myself, with a nod, permission to be seated, though, even then, I chose the most uncomfortable place on the steps.

Lord! how delicious it was to rest! I dried the sweat off my face, and drew great refres.h.i.+ng breaths. How had I not run! But I was not sorry; I had richly deserved it. Why did I want to ask for that s.h.i.+lling? Now I could see the consequences, and I began to talk mildly to myself, dealing out admonitions as a mother might have done. I grew more and more moved, and tired and weak as I was, I fell a-crying. A quiet, heart-felt cry; an inner sobbing without a tear.

I sat for the s.p.a.ce of a quarter of an hour, or more, in the same place. People came and went, and no one molested me. Little children played about around me, and a little bird sang on a tree on the other side of the street.

A policeman came towards me. ”Why do you sit here?” said he.

”Why do I sit here?” I replied; ”for pleasure.”

”I have been watching you for the last half-hour. You've sat here now half-an-hour.”