Mysteries (13 page)

Nagel fell silent. His listeners were stunned. Mr. Reinert lowered his eyes and looked at the ground for a long while.

“Miniman? So it was him?” asked Mrs. Stenersen.

“Yes, that’s who it was,” Nagel replied.

“Ooh, you almost give me the creeps.”

“I knew it!” Dagny Kielland said of a sudden. “I recognized him the moment you said he kneeled down and kissed the ground. I assure you I recognized him. Have you talked to him at any length?”

“No, I’ve met him only a couple of times.... But come, I seem to have spoiled your good mood; Mrs. Stenersen, you’ve turned quite pale! What on earth—it was only a dream, you know!”

“Yes, this won’t do!” the doctor chimed in. “How the hell does it concern us that Miniman—. Let him kiss every tree root in Norway, for that matter. Look at Miss Andresen, though, she’s downright crying. Ha-ha-ha.”

“I’m not crying at all,” she retorted, “it wouldn’t occur to me. But I do admit that this dream made an impression on me. And I dare say it made an impression on you, too.”

“On me?” cried the doctor. “Of course not, not a bit! Ha-ha-ha, have you all gone mad? Now, let’s take a little walk. Up, all of you! It’s getting chilly. Are you cold, Jetta?”

“No, I’m not, let’s stay here,” his wife replied.

But the doctor was set on taking a walk, he insisted on it. It was getting chilly, he repeated, and he would get moving even if he had to go by himself. Then Nagel rose and went with him.

They strolled up and down the pier a few times, elbowing their way through the crowd, chatting and returning people’s greetings. After they had walked like this for about half an hour, Mrs. Stenersen called to them, “Get back here, will you! Can you guess what we’ve dreamed up while you were gone? Well, we’ve decided to throw a big party at our house tomorrow night. And you, Mr. Nagel, must definitely come! But I have to tell you that a big party at our house means a minimum of food and drink—”

“And a maximum of fun, of course,” the doctor cheerily broke in. “Believe me, I know. Well, that’s not a bad idea at all; you’ve come up with far worse things, Jetta.” Suddenly the doctor was in high spirits, his whole face wreathed in a good-natured smile at the prospect of the party. “Just don’t be late,” he said, “and cross your fingers that I won’t be called away.”

“But can I show up in these clothes?” Nagel asked. “I don’t have any other.”

Everyone laughed, and Mrs. Stenersen answered, “Of course. It will be quite amusing.”

On the way back Nagel found himself walking beside Dagny Kielland. He had made no effort to bring this about, it happened quite by chance; nor did Miss Kielland do anything to forestall it. She had just said how much she was looking forward to tomorrow evening, because it was always so pleasant and relaxed at the doctor’s; they were such excellent people, and they knew how to make their guests enjoy themselves. At that point Nagel blurted out in a low voice, “May I hope, Miss Kielland, that you’ve forgiven me that awful piece of folly in the woods a while ago?”

He spoke eagerly, almost in a whisper, and she was forced to answer him.

“Oh yes,” she said. “I now have a better understanding of your conduct that evening. You don’t seem to be quite like other people.”

“Thank you!” he whispered. “Oh, I thank you as I’ve never thanked anyone in my whole life! And why am I not like other people? I want you to know, Miss Kielland, that I’ve made an effort all evening to soften that first impression you must have received of me. I didn’t say a word that wasn’t meant for you. What do you say to that?
³
Remember, I had offended you terribly and had to do something. I confess I’ve been in a rather unusual state of mind all day, but I’ve made myself appear a good deal worse than I really am, and most of the time I’ve been playing a rather underhanded game. You see, it was important to me to make you think that I really was a bit unpredictable, that I committed bizarre transgressions
in general;
I hoped to make you pardon me more easily that way. This was also why I intruded with my dreams at the wrong time and place—well, I even crudely exposed myself concerning a violin case, voluntarily exposing my foolishness, which I wasn’t obliged to do—”

“Pardon me!” she broke in abruptly, “but why are you telling me all this, spoiling everything?”

“No, I’m not spoiling anything.
⁴
If I tell you I really gave in to a momentary malicious impulse when I ran after you in the woods that time, you will understand. It was only a sudden desire to scare you, because you ran away. Well, I didn’t know you then, of course. And if I now tell you that I’m just like other people, you will understand that too. This evening I made myself a laughingstock and astonished everyone by a most eccentric behavior, simply in order to soothe you sufficiently to make you at least listen to me when I came and explained myself. This I have achieved. You have listened to me and
⁵
understood everything.”

“No, frankly, I have to confess
⁶
I don’t quite understand you. But let be, I certainly won’t start brooding over that—”

“No, of course not; why should you trouble your head about that! But don’t you agree, this party tomorrow night was decided on because you all regarded me as an odd fellow who could be expected to dream up quite a few antics, wasn’t it? Maybe I’ll disappoint you, maybe I’ll just hem and haw, maybe I won’t even come. God knows.”

“Oh, but of course you must come!”

“Must I?” he said, looking at her.

She let that pass. They were still walking side by side.
⁷

They had reached the Parsonage Road. Miss Kielland stopped, burst out laughing and said, “Who would ever believe it!” And she shook her head.
⁸

She began to wait for the rest of the party, which had fallen behind. He wanted to ask her if he could walk her home; he was about to risk it, when she suddenly turned away from him and called to the teacher, “Come on, will you!” And she eagerly waved her hand to hurry him on.

AT SIX O’CLOCK the following evening Nagel entered the doctor’s parlor. He thought he had arrived too early, but the party from the previous evening were already assembled. There were also a few other guests, a lawyer and a blond young student. At two tables they were already drinking cognac and club soda, at a third the ladies, Mr. Reinert, and the student were talking together. The teacher, a reticent man who seldom or never gave out a sound, was already quite drunk, and in the heat of the moment, his cheeks flushed, he was sounding off about one subject after another. There was Serbia, for example, where eighty percent of the population could neither read nor write, or did anybody maintain it wasn’t that bad? Well, he was just asking! And he looked about him with a grim expression on his face, though not a soul had contradicted him.

The hostess called Nagel and made room for him at the ladies’ table. What would he like to drink? They were just talking about Kristiania, she said. What a quaint idea of Nagel’s to come and settle down in a small town, when he was free to choose and could even be in Kristiania!

But Nagel didn’t find the idea the least bit quaint; after all, he had come to the country for a holiday. In any case, he wouldn’t want to be in Kristiania; Kristiania was one of the last places he would choose.

Really? Still, it was the capital. It was, after all, the meeting place for whatever the country had to offer of great and famous people, of art and theater, and everything under the sun.

“Yes; and what about all those foreigners who come flocking there!” Miss Andresen remarked. “Foreign actors, singers, musicians, artists of all kinds.”

Dagny Kielland just listened, without saying anything.

Well, that might be true enough, Nagel admitted; but somehow, for some reason he couldn’t explain, every time Kristiania was mentioned he saw a section of Grænsen Street before his eyes, and it smelled of clothes hung out to dry. It was really true, he didn’t invent it. What he envisioned was a snooty small town with a couple of churches, a couple of newspapers, a hotel and a town pump, but with the grandest people in the world. He had never seen people swagger as they did in Kristiania, and good grief, how many a time he had wished himself far away when he lived there!

Mr. Reinert couldn’t understand how it was possible to conceive such an antipathy—not toward an individual but toward a whole city, the country’s capital. In fact, Kristiania was not that small anymore, it was taking its place among other prominent cities. And the Grand Café was anything but a poor café.

At first Nagel made no protest apropos of the Grand. But a moment later he wrinkled his brows and remarked for all to hear, “The Grand is a
unique
café.”

“You don’t seem to mean that.”

“Oh yes.” The Grand was that notorious place
¹
in the city where everything great foregathered. There sat the world’s greatest painters, the world’s most promising young men, the world’s most fashionable ladies, the world’s most able editors, and the world’s greatest authors! “Heh-heh!” There they sat and puffed themselves up for each other
²
—each delighted to be appreciated by everyone else. “I’ve seen everyman sitting there rejoicing because other everymen were watching him.”

This answer provoked general indignation. Mr. Reinert leaned over to Miss Kielland’s chair and said quite loud, “Did you ever hear such conceited talk!”

Waking up, she cast a quick glance at Nagel: he must have heard Mr. Reinert’s words, but didn’t seem to feel hurt by them. On the contrary, he was drinking with the student and began to talk about something else with a nonchalant air. She, too, was irritated by his superior manner; God knows what he thought of them all if he felt he could offer them such condescending talk! What conceit, what megalomania! When Mr. Reinert asked her, “And what do you think?” she replied in an affectedly loud voice, “What I think? I think Kristiania is good enough for me.”

Nagel’s composure remained unruffled. Hearing this loud voice half addressed to himself, he turned to look at her with a pensive air, as if trying to remember how he might have offended her. He rested his eyes on her for more than a minute, blinking his eyes and considering, his face meanwhile showing a sorrowful expression.

By now the teacher had also heard what it was all about and protested the view that Kristiania was smaller than, for example, Belgrade.
³
On the whole, Kristiania was no smaller than any other capital of a reasonable size....

This made everyone laugh; with his burning cheeks and unshakable conviction, the teacher looked too absurd. Mr. Hansen, the lawyer, a fat little man with a bald pate wearing gold-rimmed glasses, couldn’t stop laughing at him, slapping his knees and laughing.

“A reasonable size, a reasonable size,” he shouted. “Kristiania is no smaller than any other capital of the same size, of exactly the same size. Not much smaller. Oh, dear me! Skoal!”
⁴

Nagel resumed his conversation with Øien, the student. Well, when he was younger he too—Nagel—had had a passion for music, especially Wagner. But with the years his interest had faded. Anyway, he had never got beyond learning the notes and striking a few chords.

“On the piano?” the student asked. The piano was his line.

“Ugh, no! On the violin. But as I said, I didn’t get anywhere and soon gave it up.”

By chance his eyes brushed Miss Andresen, who had been chatting with Mr. Reinert in a corner by the stove for at least a quarter of an hour. Her eyes met Nagel’s, though only fleetingly and inadvertently; still, it made her fidget on her chair and stop dead in what she was going to say.

Dagny was tapping her hand with a folded newspaper.
⁵
There were no rings on her long white fingers. Nagel scrutinized her on the sly. Good God, how lovely she was tonight! In this light, against the background of the dark wall, her thick blond braid looked even more blond. When she was sitting down, her figure had a touch of buxomness, which disappeared when she stood up. She had a light, swinging walk, as if she used to skate a lot.
⁶

Nagel got up and walked over to her.
⁷

She had allowed her deep-blue eyes to rest on him for a moment, and he exclaimed at once, without thinking, “Good Lord, how beautiful you are!”

She was completely bewildered by such directness; she was all agape and didn’t know where to turn. Then she whispered, “Please, be reasonable!”

Shortly afterward she rose and walked over to the piano, where she began to leaf through some music, her cheeks flaming red.

The doctor, who was itching to talk politics, suddenly asked the gathering, “Have you read today’s papers? Look at
Morgenbladet
—it’s a damn shame what they print these days! It’s not fit reading for educated people anymore, just vulgar talk and abusive language from beginning to end.”

But since he wasn’t contradicted, the doctor couldn’t get anywhere. Being aware of that, Hansen, the lawyer, remarked, slyly and genially, “Shouldn’t we say there are faults on both sides?”
⁸

“Oh, but really!” the doctor cried, jumping up. “You aren’t saying, are you, that—”

The table was set. The company entered the dining room, while the doctor went on jabbering. The conversation continued at the table. Nagel, who had been seated between the hostess and Miss Olsen, the young daughter of the chief of police, didn’t take part in it. By the time they broke up from the table, they were already deep into European politics. They had expressed their opinions of the Czar, Constans, and Parnell, and when they finally came to the Balkan Question, the drunk teacher had another opportunity to throw himself upon Serbia. He had just read the
Statistische Monatschrift;
the conditions there were terrible, the schools completely neglected....