Mysteries - Knut Hamsun [69]
“Listen,” Nagel said all of a sudden, “you don’t have much in the way of shirts, do you? Pardon me for asking.”
“That’s not why I mentioned those two shirts,” Miniman replied hurriedly. “As sure as I’m sitting here, that’s not why.”
“Of course not! Why are you screaming? If you don’t mind, why don’t you show me what you’re wearing under your coat?”
“Gladly, oh, gladly, gladly! Here’s one side, just take a look. And the other side is no worse—”
“Oh, but wait a bit! I’m afraid that’s exactly what it is, the other side is worse.”
“But what else can you expect?” Miniman cries. “No, I don’t need any shirts right now, I really don’t. I’ll go so far as to say that a shirt like this is much too good for me. Can you guess who gave it to me? Dr. Stenersen, yes, Dr. Stenersen himself. I don’t think his wife even knew about it, though she too is generosity itself. I got it for Christmas at that.”
“For Christmas?”
“You think that’s a long time ago?3 I don’t wear a shirt like that ragged, as if I were some animal, doing my worst to make holes in it; so I take it off at night and sleep naked, in order not to wear it out to no purpose when I’m sleeping. That way I make it last much longer, and I can go about freely among people without being put to shame because I don’t have a decent shirt. And now, with the tableaux, it’ll be a great help that I’ve still got a shirt I can show myself in. Miss Dagny keeps insisting that I have to turn out. I met her at the church yesterday. She also spoke about you—”
“I’ll get you a pair of trousers, too. It will be worth the money to see you appear in public. Since the deputy has given you a coat, I’ll give you a pair of trousers, that’s only fair. But I’ll do it on the usual condition—that you keep mum about it.”
“All right, all right.”
“I think you should have some wine. Oh well, do as you like. I’m going to drink tonight, I feel nervous and rather sad. Will you permit me to ask you a personal question? Are you aware that people have a nickname for you? They call you Miniman; do you know that?”
“Yes, of course, I know. It seemed hard at first, and I prayed to God for help on account of it. I wandered about in the woods for a whole Sunday, kneeling down all the time in the three places that were dry—this was in the spring, when the snow was melting.4 But that was a long time ago, many years ago, and now nobody calls me anything but Miniman; and it’s good enough, for that matter. Why would you like to know if I was aware of it? How can I help it, however much I’m aware of it?”
“Do you know, too, how you were given such an absurd name?”
“Yes, I do. That is, it’s so long ago, before I became an invalid, but I remember it well. It happened one evening, or rather one night, at a bachelor party. Maybe you’ve noticed that yellow house down by the Customs House, on your right hand as you go down? Well, it was painted white in those days, and the justice of the peace lived there. He was a bachelor, and his name was Sørensen, a really jolly fellow. It was a spring night—I was returning from the docks, where I’d been strolling back and forth looking at the ships. When I came to this yellow house I could tell there were visitors inside, because there was an awful racket and lots of people laughing. As I pass the windows, they catch sight of me and tap on the panes. Once inside, I’m confronted by Dr. Kolbye, Captain William Prante and Folkedahl, the customs officer, and many more—well, by now they’ve all died or left town, but altogether there were seven or eight of them and everyone dead drunk. They had smashed up the chairs just for fun, that was what the justice of the peace wanted, and they had also broken all the glasses, so we had to drink from the bottle. After I joined them and got drunk as well, there was no end to the racket. The men stripped and ran around the rooms stark naked, although we hadn’t drawn the blinds, and when I wouldn’t play along with them, they grabbed me by force