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Updated: May 28, 2025
Thomas Glahn was sitting in my room at the time he lived in the attic up above, just under the roof and he began to chuckle and laugh childishly over my little slip of the tongue. "A bread and a slice of egg!" he repeated time over and over, until I looked at him in surprise and made him stop. Maybe I shall call to mind other ridiculous traits of his later on.
She could talk to me, and we did talk, too, as long as I pleased. Glahn sat that evening in the middle of our village outside a hut with two other girls, very young not more than ten years old, perhaps. He sat there talking nonsense to them, and drinking rice beer; that was the sort of thing he liked. A couple of days later, we went out shooting.
The first two birds we shot were mangled horribly, through shooting them with the rifle; but we cooked them under a tree as best we could, and ate in silence. So the day wore on till noon. Glahn called out to me: "Sure your gun is loaded? We might come across something unexpectedly. Load it, anyhow." "It is loaded," I answered. Then he disappeared a moment into the bush.
Nagel, in Mysterier, is shown as a fool, an eccentric intolerable in ordinary society, though he is disconcertingly human, paradoxically sane. Glahn, in Pan, apologizes for his uncouth straightforwardness by confessing that he is more at home in the woods, where he can say and do what he pleases without offence.
It was stone dead, the left flank all torn up and the bullet in its back. Now I do not like being gripped by the arm, so I said: "I could have managed that shot myself." Glahn looked at me. I said: "You think perhaps I couldn't have done it?" Still Glahn made no answer. Instead, he showed his childishness once more, shooting the dead leopard again, this time through the head.
She did not understand that, and I explained it better; how she had a habit of putting everything in her mouth and chewing it, and how Glahn laughed at her for it. That made more impression on her than all the rest I said. "Look here, Maggie," I went on, "you shall be mine for always. Wouldn't you like that? I've been thinking it over.
Von Glahn lifted his delicately formed eyebrows, then, amused: "Count von Plessis invites me; and" he laughed outright "he must have invited you, Harry, unless you are poaching!" "Good Lord!" exclaimed Stent, for a brief second believing in the part he was playing; "I supposed this to be a free alp."
Down it, between fern and crag and bracken, flashed a brook, broken into in silvery sections amid depths of velvet green below, where evidently it tumbled headlong into that thin, shining thread which was a broad river. "Yes," mused Stent, "Siurd von Glahn and I were comrades on many a foot tour through such mountains as these. He was a delightful fellow, my classmate Siurd "
The Glahn family can go on advertising as long as they please for Lieutenant Thomas Glahn, who disappeared; but he will never come back. He is dead, and, what is more, I know how he died. To tell the truth, I am not surprised that his people should still keep on seeking information; for Thomas Glahn was in many ways an uncommon and likable man.
I was beginning to feel some dislike for him for his incautious behavior, and for his manner with women. Only the night before, I had been walking quietly along with Maggie, the Tamil girl that was my friend, and we were both as happy as could be. Glahn sits outside his hut, and nods and smiles to us as we pass.
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