Mysteries - Knut Hamsun [139]
Pause.
“You did it, right?”
“Yes,” Miniman answers at last.
“Yes. And seen with your eyes it was the right thing to do, but seen with mine it appears quite different. Why did you do it?”
“I thought you might perhaps want to—”
Pause.
“Ah, there you see! But you were mistaken, Grøgaard, your kind heart led you astray. Didn’t I say expressly that night when you walked off with the poison that I would never have the courage to take it myself?”
“But I still feared you might do it. And now you have done it.”
“I have? What are you saying? Heh-heh, you’ve fooled yourself, my good man. It’s quite true I emptied the bottle last night, but take note: I didn’t taste a drop of its contents.”
Miniman looks at him in surprise.
“There you see, you’re laughing on the wrong side of your mouth! One takes a walk in the course of the night, one gets down to the quayside, runs across a cat writhing in the most terrible agony as it drags itself along the whole length of the pier. One stops and takes a good look at it; there’s something stuck in its throat, it’s a fish hook, and it coughs and squirms and can get it neither up nor down; but blood is streaming from its mouth. All right, one grabs the cat and tries to do something about that fish hook, but because of the pain the cat can’t keep still, rolls over on its back, makes a furious upward jab with its claws and gashes one’s cheek in a trice, much as, say, you can see my cheek has been gashed. But now the cat is on the verge of choking, and its throat is still bleeding. What should one do about it? While one ponders this, the church bell strikes two, so it’s too late to get any outside help; it’s two o’clock in the morning. Then one suddenly remembers the wonderful vial of poison in one’s vest pocket; wanting to put the animal out of its misery, one empties the vial into its throat. The animal suspects it’s swallowing something terribly dangerous, clinches up and, staring around with perplexed eyes, jumps sky-high—it breaks away and jumps sky-high, then continues to wriggle its way along the pier. How could that be? Well, you see, there was only water in the vial, it couldn’t kill, it could only add to its misery. The cat still has the hook in its throat and is bleeding and gasping for breath. Sooner or later it will bleed to death, or it will choke in some corner, mutely and horribly, alone.”
“It was done with the best intentions,” Miniman says.
“Of course! Everything you do is sincere and well-intentioned. One simply cannot catch you deviating from that, and in a way your noble, honorable trickery with my poison is nothing new for you. Take, for instance, your dancing in Market Square a moment ago. I was standing here by the window watching you. I’m not going to reproach you for it, I just want to ask you something: why had you taken off your shoes? You are wearing shoes now, after all, so why had you taken them off when you danced?”
“So I wouldn’t wear them out.”
“Just what I expected! I knew that would be your answer, that’s why I asked you. You are a walking image of immaculate purity, the most irreproachable soul in town. Everything about you is kind and unselfish, you’re without blemish or flaws. I tried to test you once, offering to pay you to assume the paternity of a strange child. Although you were poor and might need the money very badly, you promptly turned down the offer. Your soul revolted at the mere thought of such a shady deal, and I could get nowhere with you, though I offered you two hundred kroner. Had I known what I know now, I wouldn’t have insulted you so grossly. I didn’t yet have a clear impression of you, whereas now I know that vis-à-vis you one must at once spur one’s steed and rein him in. Well, that’s all right! But let’s go on with what we were talking about.... The fact that you take your shoes off and dance barefoot, without calling attention to yourself, without heeding the pain or complaining, just shows one of your character traits.