Part 26 (1/2)
It might be about four o'clock; in a few hours' time I could perhaps meet the manager of the theatre; if only I had my drama completed.
I take out my MSS. there where I am sitting, and resolve, with might and main, to finish the last few scenes. I think until I sweat, and re-read from the beginning, but make no progress. No bos.h.!.+ I say--no obstinacy, now! and I write away at my drama--write down everything that strikes me, just to get finished quickly and be able to go away. I tried to persuade myself that a new supreme moment had seized me; I lied right royally to myself, deceived myself knowingly, and wrote on, as if I had no need to seek for words.
That is capital! That is really a find! whispered I, interpolatingly; only just write it down! Halt! they sound questionable; they contrast rather strongly with the speeches in the first scenes; not a trace of the Middle Ages shone through the monk's words. I break my pencil between my teeth, jump to my feet, tear my ma.n.u.script in two, tear each page in two, fling my hat down in the street and trample upon it. I am lost! I whisper to myself. Ladies and gentlemen, I am lost! I utter no more than these few words as long as I stand there, and tramp upon my hat.
A policeman is standing a few steps away, watching me. He is standing in the middle of the street, and he only pays attention to me. As I lift my head, our eyes meet. Maybe he has been standing there for a long time watching me. I pick up my hat, put it on, and go over to him.
”Do you know what time it is?” I ask. He pauses a bit as he hauls out his watch, and never takes his eyes off me the whole time.
”About four,” he replies.
”Accurately,” I say, ”about four, perfectly accurate. You know your business, and I'll bear you in mind.” Thereupon I left him. He looked utterly amazed at me, stood and looked at me, with gaping mouth, still holding his watch in his hand.
When I got in front of the Royal Hotel I turned and looked back. He was still standing in the same position, following me with his eyes.
Ha, ha! That is the way to treat brutes! With the most refined effrontery! That impresses the brutes--puts the fear of G.o.d into them.... I was peculiarly satisfied with myself, and began to sing a little strain. Every nerve was tense with excitement. Without feeling any more pain, without even being conscious of discomfort of any kind, I walked, light as a feather, across the whole market, turned round at the stalls, and came to a halt--sat down on a bench near Our Saviour's Church. Might it not just as well be a matter of indifference whether I returned the half-sovereign or not? When once I received it, it was mine; and there was evidently no want where it came from. Besides, I was obliged to take it when it was sent expressly to me; there could be no object in letting the messenger keep it. It wouldn't do, either, to send it back--a whole half-sovereign that had been sent to me. So there was positively no help for it.
I tried to watch the bustle about me in the market, and distract myself with indifferent things, but I did not succeed; the half-sovereign still busied my thoughts. At last I clenched my fists and got angry. It would hurt her if I were to send it back. Why, then, should I do so?
Always ready to consider myself too good for everything--to toss my head and say, No, thanks! I saw now what it led to. I was out in the street again. Even when I had the opportunity I couldn't keep my good warm lodging. No; I must needs be proud, jump up at the first word, and show I wasn't the man to stand trifling, chuck half-sovereigns right and left, and go my way.... I took myself sharply to task for having left my lodging and brought myself into the most distressful circ.u.mstances.
As for the rest, I consigned the whole affair to the keeping of the yellowest of devils. I hadn't begged for the half-sovereign, and I had barely had it in my hand, but gave it away at once--paid it away to utterly strange people whom I would never see again. That was the sort of man I was; I always paid out to the last doit whatever I owed. If I knew Ylajali aright, neither did she regret that she had sent me the money, therefore why did I sit there working myself into a rage? To put it plainly, the least she could do was to send me half-a-sovereign now and then. The poor girl was indeed in love with me--ha! perhaps even fatally in love with me; ... and I sat and puffed myself up with this notion. There was no doubt that she was in love with me, the poor girl.
It struck five o'clock! Again I sank under the weight of my prolonged nervous excitement. The hollow whirring in my head made itself felt anew. I stared straight ahead, kept my eyes fixed, and gazed at the chemist's under the sign of the elephant. Hunger was waging a fierce battle in me at this moment, and I was suffering greatly. Whilst I sit thus and look out into s.p.a.ce, a figure becomes little by little clear to my fixed stare. At last I can distinguish it perfectly plainly, and I recognize it. It is that of the cake-vendor who sits habitually near the chemist's under the sign of the elephant. I give a start, sit half-upright on the seat, and begin to consider. Yes, it was quite correct--the same woman before the same table on the same spot! I whistle a few times and snap my fingers, rise from my seat, and make for the chemist's. No nonsense at all! What the devil was it to me if it was the wages of sin, or well-earned Norwegian huckster pieces of silver from Kongsberg? I wasn't going to be abused; one might die of too much pride....
I go on to the corner, take stock of the woman, and come to a standstill before her. I smile, nod as to an acquaintance, and shape my words as if it were a foregone conclusion that I would return sometime.
”Good-day,” say I; ”perhaps you don't recognize me again.”
”No,” she replied slowly, and looks at me.
I smile still more, as if this were only an excellent joke of hers, this pretending not to know me again, and say:
”Don't you recollect that I gave you a lot of silver once? I did not say anything on the occasion in question; as far as I can call to mind, I did not; it is not my way to do so. When one has honest folk to deal with, it is unnecessary to make an agreement, so to say, draw up a contract for every trifle. Ha, ha! Yes, it was I who gave you the money!”
”No, then, now; was it you? Yes, I remember you, now that I come to think over it....”
I wanted to prevent her from thanking me for the money, so I say, therefore, hastily, whilst I cast my eye over the table in search of something to eat:
”Yes; I've come now to get the cakes.”
She did not seem to take this in.
”The cakes,” I reiterate; ”I've come now to get them--at any rate, the first instalment; I don't need all of them today.”
”You've come to get them?”
”Yes; of course I've come to get them,” I reply, and I laugh boisterously, as if it ought to have been self-evident to her from the outset that I came for that purpose. I take, too, a cake up from the table, a sort of white roll that I commenced to eat.
When the woman sees this, she stirs uneasily inside her bundle of clothes, makes an involuntary movement as if to protect her wares, and gives me to understand that she had not expected me to return to rob her of them.
”Really not?” I say, ”indeed, really not?” She certainly was an extraordinary woman. Had she, then, at any time, had the experience that some one came and gave her a heap of s.h.i.+llings to take care of, without that person returning and demanding them again? No; just look at that now! Did she perhaps run away with the idea that it was stolen money, since I slung it at her in that manner? No; she didn't think that either. Well, that at least was a good thing--really a good thing.
It was, if I might so say, kind of her, in spite of all, to consider me an honest man. Ha, ha! yes indeed, she really was good!