Mysteries - Knut Hamsun [63]
They made a deep bow to one another. When Miniman straightened up, his left shoulder sagged badly. Suddenly Nagel grabs him by this shoulder and, all worked up and without relaxing his grip, says offhandedly, “Have you been gossiping about that money I gave you, let anyone know about it?”
Astounded, Miniman replies, “No, I haven’t, definitely not.”
“Let me just advise you,” Nagel continued, pale with emotion, “that if you ever say a word about those few pennies, I’ll kill you—kill you! By God in heaven! You understand? And have your uncle hold his tongue, too.”
Miniman stood there all agape, stammering a word now and then: he wouldn’t say anything, not a word, he promised, it was a pledge.
As if trying to excuse his agitation, Nagel added at once, “This town is a real hole, a hornets’ nest, the pits! People stare at me wherever I go, I can’t budge. I won’t have this spying everywhere, I say to hell with everybody! Now you’ve been warned. And listen to this: I have reason to believe that this Miss Kielland from the parsonage, for one, is a little too good at taking you in and making you talk. But I won’t stand for her nosiness, I simply won’t. By the way, I was with her last night. She’s a big flirt. Well, that’s neither here nor there. Let me just ask you once more to keep mum about that little business of ours.2 Incidentally, it’s a good thing I ran into you just now,” Nagel continued. “There is something else I wish to talk to you about. The day before yesterday we were sitting together on a tombstone in the cemetery.”
“Yes.”
“I wrote a verse on that stone, a poor and improper one, I admit, but that’s beside the point—well, I did write that verse. When I left, the verse was still there, but when I returned a few minutes later it had been erased. Was that your doing?”
Miniman looks at the ground and answers, “Yes.”
Pause. Uneasy at having been caught in this audacious act, which he had committed on his own, Miniman tries to explain, stammering, “I wanted to prevent—You didn’t know Mina Meek, that’s the whole trouble, otherwise you wouldn’t have done it, have written it. In fact, I said to myself right away: he’s excused, he’s a stranger in town, and it’s easy for me who lives here to correct it, so why shouldn’t I do it? I wiped the verse off. Nobody had read it.”
“How do you know that nobody had read it?”
“Not a soul had read it. After walking with you and Dr. Stenersen to the gate, I turned back at once and wiped it off. I hadn’t been away more than a few minutes.”
Nagel looked at him, took his hand and pressed it without saying anything. They looked at one another; Nagel’s lips trembled slightly.
“Goodbye!” he said.... “Come to think, did you get the coat?”
“Hm. I’m pretty sure I’ll have it by the time I need it. In three weeks—”
At that moment the white-haired egg-wife, Martha Gude, went by, the basket under her apron and her black eyes downcast. Miniman greeted her, as did Nagel, but she barely responded, walked quickly by and hurried over to the market, where she delivered her two or three eggs and left again with the pennies in her hand. She was wearing a thin green dress. Nagel didn’t take his eyes off that green dress. He said, “So you will need that coat in three weeks? What’s going to take place in three weeks?”
“There’s going to be a bazaar, a big evening entertainment, haven’t you heard? I’ll take part in the tableaux. Miss Dagny has already chosen me for that.”
“Is that so?” Nagel said, deep in thought. “Well, you’ll get the coat very soon, a new coat at that, in place of the old one. Mr. Reinert told me so today. The man isn’t really so bad.... But listen, be sure to remember you mustn’t thank him, no, never! You mustn’t under any circumstances mention that coat to him, he didn’t want any thanks. You understand? He would find it distressing, he said. I suppose you realize yourself that it would be tactless of you to remind him of the day he was drunk and walked out of the hotel with a dent in his hat.”
“Yes.”3
“And you’re not to tell your