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Dear me, these human beings grow duller every day, and I see nothing in them that I have not known before. So I sink to the level of watching Solem's increasing passion for Miss Torsen. But that too is familiar and dull.
"I shouldn't want anyone to think of climbing that peak," said Miss Torsen. "It's as bare as a ship's mast." "What if I tried it, Gerda?" the manufacturer asked his wife with a smile. "After all, I'm an old sailor." "Nonsense," she said, smiling a little. "Well, I climbed the mast of a schooner last spring." "Where?" "In Iceland." "What for?"
I should like to see you as soon as you come back. There's nothing the matter. Please don't say no. Yours, Ingeborg Torsen I reread it many times. "Something that has happened." But I'm going to Sweden, I'm going to move about a little, and stop losing myself in the affairs of others. Do they think I am mankind's old uncle, that I can be summoned hither and thither to give advice?
But there is one thing I cannot finish doing, and that is withdrawing to my room, and sitting alone with the good darkness round me. This, after all, is the last pleasure. An interlude: Miss Torsen and her actor are walking this way; I hear their footsteps and their voices; but since I am sitting in the dark of the evening, I cannot see them.
I no longer went to the benches by the shore, as the weather was a little too cold, and Miss Torsen interested me very little now; she had changed so much since returning to the town. She had become more the ordinary type of girl, not in any one thing, but in general.
Well, she does not leave; she stays here to complete the picture of the woman Torsen, child of the middle class who has read schoolbooks all through her formative years, who has learned all about Artemis cotula, but undernourished her soul. That is what she is doing here.
He has on a coat that looks like the actor's raincoat, but it is not the little comedian himself. There he goes, into the house, right into the house. It is Solem. "Why, that's where she sleeps!" I think. "Ah, well. Alone in the building, in the south wing, Miss Torsen alone yes, quite alone. And Solem has just gone in."
Curious idea of hers, inviting this man to watch her dance. It was preposterous, but like her. Last summer, too did she not like a third party within hearing whenever she sailed close to the wind? A thought struck me, and I asked the carpenter as calmly as I could: "Did Miss Torsen want me to sit in the gallery, too did she say anything about that?" "No," he replied.
He wore a top hat, and his overcoat, which was open, was lined with silk. I heard them mention an evening of the previous week on which they had enjoyed themselves; it had been a relaxation. There had been quite a party, first out driving, then at supper together. It was a memory they had in common. Miss Torsen didn't say much. She seemed a little embarrassed, but smiling and beautiful.
"Ingeborg," the carpenter was probably thinking. "Miss Torsen," he was thinking. "How long will you be in the town?" she asked, getting up. "Oh, I'll be there some time." "What are you doing there?" He was a little embarrassed, and since his skin was so fair, she could see at once that he reddened. He bent forward, planting his elbows on his knees before he replied.
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