Mysteries - Knut Hamsun [140]
“Oh but—”
“You see, I remember. It was the evening when the two of us were sitting here drinking together; that is, I was doing the drinking and you were looking on. You said that Martha—yes, you called her simply Martha, and you also said that she always called you Johannes, I’m telling the truth. She does call you Johannes, isn’t that so? I definitely remember your telling me that! All right. But you also said that Martha had gone so far as to allow you all kinds of liberties with her, and what’s more, you made a most disgusting gesture with your finger as you said it—”
Miniman jumps up, red in the face, and interrupts in a loud voice, “That I never said! I never said that!”
“You didn’t? What? You really didn’t say it? What if I called Sara and asked her to testify that she was in the next room during our conversation and heard every word through these thin walls? Well, I never! But anyway, your denial has knocked the bottom out of it. I would’ve liked to pump you a little more about this, it interests me, and I’ve often thought about it; but since you deny having said it, well. By the way, please sit down again, don’t leave head over heels as you did last time. Besides, the door is locked, I’ve locked it.”
Nagel lights a cigar, and as he lights it he suddenly checks himself.
“Oh, but dear me!” he says, “good heavens, what a mistake I’m making! Mr. Grøgaard, please forgive me; you’re right, you didn’t say that! Forget it, my friend, it was someone else who said it, not you, I remember it now; I heard it a couple of weeks ago. How could I think for a moment that you would compromise a lady—and above all compromise yourself—in such a way! I don’t understand how it could have occurred to me, I must be pretty mad, after all.... But look: I acknowledge it when I’ve made a mistake and apologize at once, so I can’t be mad, can I? And if, for all that, my talk is a bit disorganized, a bit wild, you mustn’t think it’s done on purpose; I’m not trying to turn your head with talk, you mustn’t think that. In any case, since you scarcely utter a word, that would be pretty impossible. No, the fact of the matter is I talk in this odd, unpremeditated way because that’s how I feel at the moment, no other reason. Pardon this digression. You’re getting impatient, anxious to hear that explanation, aren’t you?”
Miniman remains silent. Nagel rises and begins to walk nervously back and forth between the window and the door. Suddenly he stops and says, sick and tired of it all, “I really can’t be bothered to play games with you any longer, I’ll tell you my honest opinion! Sure enough, I have been talking confusingly to you, and until this moment I’ve been doing so on purpose, to get something out of you. I’ve been feeling my way, using every possible tack, but it’s all no use and I’m getting tired of it. All right, I’ll give you that explanation, Grøgaard! I believe in my heart that you are a secret scoundrel. A secret scoundrel.”
When Miniman begins to shake, his eyes casting anxious and perplexed looks in every direction, Nagel continues, “You don’t say a word, you don’t give yourself away. I can’t make you budge, you are a mute power of a rather rare sort, I admire you and take a great interest in you. Do you remember the time I talked to you for a whole evening and, among other things, stared