Mysteries - Knut Hamsun [113]
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.”
For a moment she was completely stunned; staring at him all agape, she couldn’t think of a word to say, even forgetting to put down her glass. This went on for a whole minute. Then she collected herself, threw him a furious glance imbued with all her inner tumult, from a pair of eyes that gave him a crushing answer, and abruptly turned her back on him. She slammed her glass down on a table by the door as she left. She disappeared into the hall.
She didn’t seem to remember that Mr. Reinert and the teacher were still sitting in the same place, waiting for her.
Nagel sat down again. His shoulders started twitching anew, and he repeatedly clutched his head. He sat all hunched up. When Martha came he jumped up, a grateful look brightened his face, and he put out a chair for her.
“How kind you are, how kind!” he said. “Sit down. I’ll be so attentive, I’ll tell you a world of stories if you like. You won’t believe how much fun I can get up if you’ll just sit down. Come on, please! You may leave whenever you wish, and I’ll have to come along, don’t you think? I won’t do you any harm, no, never! Look, you will have a tiny little drink now, won’t you? Don’t worry, I’ll tell you something amusing and make you laugh again. I’m so glad you came back; good heavens, how wonderful it is to hear you laugh, you who are always so serious! It wasn’t such great fun in the hall, eh? Let’s rather stay here awhile; it’s so hot in there, too. So, sit down!”
Martha hesitated, but did sit down.
And now Nagel speaks without letup, relating funny little stories and adventures one after the other; he jabbers on about this and that, feverishly and at a forced pace, fearful that she might leave if he stopped. The effort makes him flushed, he gets confused and, at his wits’ end, clutches his head trying to pick up the thread of his story; but Martha finds him amusing even then and laughs innocently. She’s anything but bored, her old heart swells, and she’s even moved to put in a word herself. How strangely warm and naive she was! When he said—and didn’t she agree?—that life was wretched past comprehension, she replied, “Let’s drink to that!”—this woman who eked out a meager living year after year by selling eggs in the marketplace, so that life ... No, it wasn’t so bad, often it was good!
Often life was good, she said!
“Oh, you’re certainly right about that,” he replied.... “But now we have to watch the tableaux! Let’s stand here in the doorway, then we can sit down again whenever you like. Can you see from there? If not, I’ll take you on my arm.”
She laughed and shook her head admonishingly.
As soon as he caught sight of Dagny on the stage, his mirth subsided, his eyes became fixed in a stare, and he saw nobody but her. He followed the direction of her glance, looked her up and down, observed her expression, and noticed that the rose on her bosom was bobbing up and down, up and down. She was standing at the very back of the thick cluster of people and was easily recognizable despite the painstaking disguise. Miss Andresen, as the queen, sat in the middle of the stage. The whole scene, bathed in red light, was a rebus-like arrangement of people and armor that Dr. Stenersen had put together