Mysteries - Knut Hamsun [100]
She laughed mistrustfully.
“Well, you always tell the truth, of course, when you talk about yourself,” she said.
“You don’t believe me? You have doubts? Then let me tell you—though I find it humiliating—let me tell you the truth of the situation. You should know that the first day I was in town I walked thirty miles—I went on foot all the way to the next town and sent myself three telegrams from there concerning a large sum of money and a farm in Finland. Then I left the three telegrams open on the table in my room for several days, so that each and everyone in the hotel could read them. Do you believe me now? So isn’t it all humbug about my money?”
“Provided you aren’t telling another lie about yourself.”
“Another lie? You’re mistaken, Miss Kielland. By God in heaven, I’m not lying! So there!”
Pause.
“But why did you do it, why did you send those telegrams to yourself?”
“Now that would be a rather long story, if I were to give the whole picture.... Well, as a matter of fact, I did it simply to show off, to attract attention in town. Heh-heh-heh, to speak plainly.”
“Now you’re lying!”
“I’ll be damned if I am!”
Pause.
“You are a strange person. What you mean to achieve, God only knows. One moment you go around making—well, you don’t even shrink from making me the most ardent confessions; but as soon as I put in a few words to make you see reason, you immediately turn around and present yourself as the worst charlatan, a liar and a cheat. You might as well save your pains; one thing makes as little impression on me as the other. I’m just a plain person; all that ingenuity is above my head.”
She had taken offense all of a sudden.
“I wasn’t trying to show any special ingenuity right now. All is lost anyway, so why should I make an effort?”
“But why, then, are you telling me all these terrible things about yourself whenever you have a chance?” she cried passionately.
Slowly, in full control of himself, he replied, “To influence you, Miss Kielland.”
Again they stopped and stared at one another. He continued, “I had the pleasure of telling you a few things about my method once before. You ask me why I even let out secrets which are damaging to me and could have been kept hidden. I reply, As a matter of policy, out of calculation. You see, I bank on the possibility that my candor will make some impression on you, despite your denial. Anyway, I can well imagine you might feel a certain respect for the devil-may-care nonchalance with which I give myself away. Maybe I’m making a mistake, that’s possible, then it can’t be helped. But even if I’m making a mistake, you’re still lost to me and I have nothing more to lose. One can get to such a pass that one becomes desperate and takes a gamble. I help you to contrive accusations against me and thus do my humble best to strengthen you in your resolve to send me away, always away. Why do I do it? Because it goes against the grain of my humble soul to speak in my own favor and to profit by that kind of shabbiness, I couldn’t make it pass my lips. But—you might say—I try in this way to achieve by cunning and devious means what others achieve by a shabby directness? Ah—. However, I won’t defend myself. Call it humbug, why not? That’s fine, very apt; I’ll even add that it is the crudest sort of fakery. All right, so it’s humbug, and I don’t defend myself; you’re right, my whole nature is humbug. But, you know, everyone is more or less caught up in humbug, so may not one kind of humbug be just as good as another, since at bottom it’s all humbug anyway? ... I feel I’m getting into my element, I have nothing against riding one of my hobbyhorses for a moment. However, I won’t; good heavens, how tired I am of it all! I say, Let it pass, just let it pass, period....