Perhaps the “Commander” guesses that something is amiss with me. He slackens his pace a little, and I say, in order to stop him, “I would have called upon you long ago with something, but nothing has come yet!”
“Indeed?” he replies in an interrogative tone. “You haven’t got it finished, then?”
“No, it didn’t get finished.”
My eyes by this time are filled with tears at his friendliness, and I cough with a bitter effort to regain my composure. The “Commander” tweaks his nose and looks at me.
“Have you anything to live on in the meantime?” he questions.
“No,” I reply. “I haven’t that either; I haven’t eaten anything today, but …”
“The Lord preserve you, man, it will never do for you to go and starve yourself to death,” he exclaims, feeling in his pocket.
This causes a feeling of shame to awake in me, and I stagger over to the wall and hold on to it. I see him finger in his purse, and he hands me half-a-sovereign.
He makes no fuss about it, simply gives me half-a-sovereign, reiterating at the same time that it would never do to let me starve to death. I stammered an objection and did not take it all at once. It is shameful of me to … it was really too much. …
“Hurry up,” he says, looking at his watch. “I have been waiting for the train; I hear it coming now.”
I took the money; I was dumb with joy, and never said a word; I didn’t even thank him once.
“It isn’t worth while feeling put out about it,” said the “Commander” at last. “I know you can write for it.”
And so off he went.
When he had gone a few steps, I remembered all at once that I had not thanked him for this great assistance. I tried to overtake him, but could not get on quickly enough; my legs failed me, and I came near tumbling on my face. He went farther and farther away from me. I gave up the attempt; thought of calling after him, but dared not; and when after all I did muster up courage enough and called once or twice, he was already at too great a distance, and my voice had become too weak.
I was left standing on the pavement, gazing after him. I wept quietly and silently. “I never saw the like!” I said to myself. “He gave me half-a-sovereign.” I walked back and placed myself where he had stood, imitated all his movements, held the half-sovereign up to my moistened eyes, inspected it on both sides, and began to swear—to swear at the top of my voice, that there was no manner of doubt that what I held in my hand was half-a-sovereign. An hour after, maybe—a very long hour, for it had grown very silent all around me—I stood, singularly enough, outside No. 11, Tomtegaden. After I had stood and collected my wits for a moment and wondered thereat, I went through the door for the second time, right into the “Entertainment and lodgings for travellers.” Here I asked for shelter, and was immediately supplied with a bed.
Tuesday.
Sunshine and quiet—a strangely bright day. The snow had disappeared. There was life and joy, and glad faces, smiles, and laughter everywhere. The fountains threw up sprays of water in jets, golden-tinted from the sunlight, azure from the sky. …
At noon I left my lodgings in Tomtegaden, where I still lived and found fairly comfortable, and set out for town. I was in the merriest humour, and lazied about the whole afternoon through the most frequented streets and looked at the people. Even before seven o’clock I took a turn up St. Olav’s Place and took a furtive look up at the window of No. 2. In an hour I would see her. I went about the whole time in a state of tremulous, delicious dread. What would happen? What should I say when she came down the stairs? Good evening? or only smile? I concluded to let it rest with the smile. Of course I would bow profoundly to her.
I stole away, a little ashamed to be there so early, wandered up Carl Johann for a while, and kept my eyes on University Street. When the clocks struck eight I walked once more towards St. Olav’s Place. On the way it struck me that perhaps I might arrive a few minutes too late, and I quickened my pace as much as I could. My foot was very sore, otherwise nothing ailed me.
I took up my place at the fountain and drew breath. I stood there a long while and gazed up at the window of No. 2, but she did not come. Well, I would wait; I was in no hurry. She might be delayed, and I waited on. It couldn’t well be that I had dreamt the whole thing! Had my first meeting with her only existed in imagination the night I lay in delirium? I began in perplexity to think over it, and wasn’t at all sure.
“Hem!” came from behind me. I heard this, and I also heard light steps near me, but I did not turn round, I only stared up at the wide staircase before me.
“Good evening,” came then. I forget to smile; I don’t even take off my hat at first, I am so taken aback to see her come this way.
“Have you been waiting long?” she asks. She is breathing a little quickly after her walk.
“No, not at all; I only came a little while ago,” I reply. “And besides, would it matter if I had waited long? I expected, by-the-way, that you would come from another direction.”
“I accompanied mamma to
