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Updated: June 19, 2025
By the way, old fellow, have you got a crown or so you could spare?" Ojen unbuttons his coat and finds the crown. "Thanks, old man. Thursday evening, then. Come early so that you can help me a little with the arrangements Good Lord, silk lining! And I who asked you for a miserable crown! I hope I did not offend you." Ojen smiles and pooh-poohs the joke.
The Journalist reported that the talk about crop failures in Russia evidently had something in it. It could not be concealed much longer in spite of the fact that the correspondent of the London Times had been sharply contradicted by the Russian press. "I had a letter from Ojen," said Milde. "It looks as if he were coming back soon; he does not appear to enjoy himself out in the woods."
"While we remember it, we have got to make definite arrangements about that farewell celebration for Ojen," he said. Of course, they had almost forgotten about that. Certainly, Ojen was going away; something had to be done.
The Attorney laughed with him. "Oh, that fellow Ojen could surprise you with far better inventions; that was nothing for him. But his writing was euphonious, his diction pure Do you know Irgens?" Yes, Coldevin knew his name. He hadn't written very much? "He does not write for the masses, no," answered the Attorney. "He writes for the chosen few.
He is loudly referred to as the Poet, even though both Irgens and Ojen are present. The Actor buttons his ulster tightly and shivers. "No spring-time is a little too chilly to suit me," he says. "The contrary here!" exclaims the Attorney. "I could shout all the time; I am neighing inwardly; my blood sings a hunting chorus!"
I only wanted to see if you remembered it. And I see that you remembered it perfectly." "Yes," said Ojen, "one does not altogether forget the teachings of childhood days." Coldevin stood there and looked after him. He was only waiting for the processions to start.
For I do not suppose you ever pay them!" "In God's own time, as the Bible says Of course, if I ever get rich, then But I want you to go now. I must be alone." "All right, good night. But listen, seriously speaking: if you have another crown to spare " And once more Ojen unbuttons his coat. "A thousand thanks! Oh, you poets, you poets! Where, for instance, may you be going now?"
But where, in Heaven's name, is the point? Jehovah has never visited him; it is an invention. And, furthermore, why didn't he choose both Youth and Beauty, and Truth as well? That is what I should have done. The point, I say!" "But that is just it there is no definite point," replied Ole Henriksen. "So Ojen says in a letter to me. Its effect lies in its euphony, he says." "He does?
And Milde did not refrain; far from it; on the contrary, he had a remark to make. Could anybody tell him what it was all about? He admired Ojen as much as anybody, but was there any sense to all this "Jehovah said" and "Jehovah said"? He wanted to be enlightened. "But why are you always so unkind to Ojen?" asked Mrs. Hanka. "Memories can't you understand?
Grant me one supplication take off the bandage! Merciful God! I am Thy creature take off the bandage! Everybody was silent when he was through. Ojen drank; Milde was busy with a spot on his vest, and did not understand a word of what he had heard; he lifted his glass to the Journalist and whispered: "Your health!" Mrs.
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