Mysteries - Knut Hamsun [72]
Nagel drank afresh, two big glasses. Again, Miniman didn’t reply. His initial childish glee was obviously gone, and he seemed to listen to his host’s talk only out of politeness. He still refused to drink anything.
“You became surprisingly quiet all of a sudden,” Nagel said. “It’s quite absurd, but do you know, at this moment you look as if you felt smitten by something, struck by a word, an insinuation. Yes, can you believe it, smitten by something! Didn’t I see you give a little start just now? No? Well, then I was mistaken. Have you ever wondered how a secret forger would feel if some day a detective put his hand on his shoulder and looked him straight in the eye without a word? ... But what can I do with you, you’re getting more and more gloomy and taciturn. I feel jittery today and keep worrying you to death, but I must talk, I always do when I’m drunk. You mustn’t leave, though, because then I would have to chat for an hour with Sara, the chambermaid, and that might not be proper, to say nothing of its being boring. Will you permit me to tell you about a little incident? My story is of no importance, but maybe it will amuse you, at the same time as it should demonstrate my aptitude for understanding people, heh-heh-heh. In fact, you will learn that if there ever was someone who couldn’t see through people, that one was me. Maybe this piece of information will cheer you up. In short, I once went to London—as a matter of fact, it was three years ago, no more—and there I made the acquaintance of an enchanting young lady, the daughter of a man I had some business with. I got to know the lady rather well, we were together every day for three weeks and became good friends. One afternoon she decided to show me London, and off we went, visited museums, art collections, magnificent buildings and parks, and by the time we started on our way home it was evening. Meanwhile nature had begun to assert its claim and, frankly speaking, I found myself in a certain quandary, which surely can happen after a whole afternoon’s walk. What was I to do? I couldn’t slip away, and I didn’t want to ask permission to make a detour. In short, I let myself go then and there, I simply brush aside my scruples and let myself go, and naturally get sopping wet, down to my shoes. But what the hell was I to do, tell me that! Fortunately, I was wearing an enormously long cloak, with which I hoped to conceal my plight. Now, by chance we had to pass a pastry shop in a brightly illuminated street, and here, by this pastry shop, my lady stops, God help me, and asks me to get her something to eat. Well, that would seem to be a reasonable request, we had been walking around for half a day and were dog-tired. And yet I had to excuse myself. She looks at me, thinking, I suppose, that it was mean of me to refuse her, and asks the reason why. You see, I then say, the reason is such and such, I have no money, I don’t have