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"And who has told you that I am a polite man? The main thing is that you have got your money and that we hope now to be rid of you." "Well, I thank you; I need it," said Coldevin. The very way in which he picked up the bill showed plainly that he was not used to handling money. Suddenly he looked straight at Milde and added: "I must confess I had not expected you ever to repay this loan."
None other than oil-painter Milde, collector of ladies' corsets! Of course, he knew how it had happened; Paulsberg was behind it. Paulsberg had supported Milde's application, and Milde had painted Paulsberg's picture. A simon-pure advertising conspiracy! And when Irgens passed the Arrow and saw the painting he spat contemptuously on the pavement. He had seen through this hypocritical scurviness.
He would tell nobody, not even Mrs. Hanka. They should not be able to say that he had moved heaven and earth in order to secure this well-earned encouragement. But he was curious to see if they would ignore him. He knew all his fellow applicants, from Milde to Ojen; he did not fear any of them.
These last words seemed to irritate Milde; he took out of his pocketbook a ten-crown bill which he threw across the table to Coldevin. He said furiously: "There take your money! I had almost forgotten that I owed you this money, but I trust you understand that you can go now!" Coldevin coloured deeply. He took the bill slowly. "You do not thank me very politely for the loan," he said.
He shouted: "But you have the most infernal way of saying insolent things! You look as if you were saying nothing of consequence " "I simply cannot understand why you lose your temper," said Milde tranquilly, "when Paulsberg himself told us to grin and bear it!" Pause. "In a word," resumed Coldevin, "the people do their duty, the papers do their duty.
No sooner had his eyes beheld the straight lines of streets and houses than his brain was aquiver, and he had conceived that Egyptian prose poem. If that had been lost, now.... Milde had lately begun to appreciate Ojen; at last his eyes had been opened to his poetry's delicate uniqueness. Irgens, who sat close enough to hear this unusual praise, leaned over to Mrs.
Herr Radwaner as Wolfram, although not equal to our Milde, deserves much praise for the neatness, elegance, and agreeable style of singing with which he executed his part; and Madame Tuczek proved herself to be an excellent musician and a well-trained actress, who may be confidently intrusted with the most difficult part.
A humor, delicate and genuine as the poetry of the stories, plays through them, and the milde macht of sympathy with everything human transfers to the pleasant pages the foresters and fishermen from their native woods and waters.
But Paulsberg made up his mind to leave now. "I'll come and sit for you to-morrow," he said to Milde, with a glance at the easel. He got up, emptied his glass, and found his overcoat. His wife pressed everybody's hand vigorously. They met Mrs. Hanka and Irgens in the door.
Thanks, very much!" Suddenly she spies the old rubber shoe with nails and junk, and she cries, full of curiosity: "Whatever is this?" She lets go her husband's arm and brings the rubber over to the table. "Whatever have you got here, Milde?" She rummages in the rubbish with her white fingers, calls Irgens over, finds one strange thing after another, and asks questions concerning them.
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