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No, first of all, Flaten was sent an invitation, of course, and it consisted of a painting, a very emancipated painting in a frame, the only written words being the date and the place, and the legend: Ballads, Bachiads, Offenbachiads, Bacchanales. Then there were speeches for him who was about to leave them, and generally speaking a most deafening shouting over the wineglasses.
But she gazed at them without seeing anything. Silently we walked on, and for several minutes, at least, she said nothing. "Hans Flaten never changes," she said finally. "Is that who it was?" I asked. "His name's Flaten." "Yes, I remember you mentioned the name last summer. Who is he?" "His father's a merchant." "But he himself?" "His father owns the big shop in Almes Street, you know."
"But you said he was the only one!" "Oh you know, you think that sort of thing sometimes. Of course I've been in love with other people, too; I can't deny that. Flaten was very nice, and took me out driving sometimes, or to a dance or something like that. And of course I was proud of his paying attention to me in spite of my having lost my post.
To-night, for instance, I don't even know who they are. The money just came by special messenger." "It's Flaten," said the carpenter. "Flaten is it?" said the landlord, as though he did not know it. "Mr. Flaten has been here before; he's a fine gentleman, always in fashionable company. So it's Mr. Flaten, is it? Well, excuse me, I must have another look round the hall " The landlord left us.
"He simply throws money about banknotes. When he goes anywhere, the people all whisper, 'That's Flaten!" "He dresses as though he were a baron," I said. "Yes," she replied, rather offended. "Yes, he dresses well always has." "Is that the man you want?" I asked lightly. She was silent a moment, and then said with a resolute nod: "Yes." "What that dandy?" "Why not?
"Yes," he replied. "She talked about it last Friday." "Who talked about it? Miss Torsen?" "Yes. She said I might sit in the gallery." We walked on down the street, each busy with his own thoughts or perhaps with the same thought. I, at least, was furious. "Really, my good Nikolai, I have no desire to buy tickets in order to look at Mr. Flaten and his ladies!" "No."
A pause. "Anyhow, perhaps you're right up to a point; I might have asked about the food, only I forgot." She seemed very irritable that evening. Would it interest her to talk about Flaten? A little apprehensively, I ventured: "But you haven't told me whom Flaten is going to marry." "She's not pretty at all," she replied suddenly. "What do you want to know for? You don't know her."
When they had done, they put some banknotes over the night watchman's mouth and tied a handkerchief over them. Then they went back to the dining room. The supper was served. Flaten's plate was a red silk bedroom slipper lined with glass. They ate and drank and rollicked as long as they had the strength; the hours passed, and dawn approached. Then Flaten began to distribute souvenirs among them.
After this he went on to his shoes, giving one to each of two friends, his trousers to another, and his shirt to still another, till at length he sat there in the nude. Next they collected quilts from the hotel bedrooms to wrap him up in red silk eiderdown quilts. Flaten fell asleep and the other nine watched over him. He slept for an hour; it was morning then, and they woke him up.
Well, what's so funny about that?" "I'm not laughing." "Yes, you were. Anyhow, Flaten wants to edit a paper. And since Lind publishes a kennel journal, Flaten wants to publish a human journal, he says." "A human journal?" "Yes. And you ought to subscribe to it," she added suddenly, almost throwing the words into my face.
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