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Updated: June 23, 2025
However, he would find means to make himself felt. But why in the world should Lars Paulsberg be allowed to dispose of these subsidies? True, he had never let slip an opportunity to ingratiate himself with the newspapers; he had his press-agents; he took good care that his name shouldn't be forgotten. But apart from that?
Paulsberg very seldom spoke; he had kept to himself and to his studies and his literary tasks, and lacked the verbal facility of his comrades. He smiled good-naturedly and answered: "'Let your communication be Yea, yea, and Nay, nay, you know!" At this they all laughed loudly. "But otherwise," he added, "apart from that I am seriously considering going home to my wife." And Paulsberg went.
"You will have to grin and bear it Let us get toward home, Nikoline. I am not equal to this." And Paulsberg and his wife left. Coldevin looked very shabby indeed. He was in the same suit he wore when he came to town; his hair and beard were shaggy and unkempt. The Journalist brought him over to the table. What did he want? Only a glass of beer? Coldevin glanced around him indifferently.
On the other hand, you are thoroughly up to date as far as the aesthetic occurrences are concerned; you have heard the latest prose poem. We have so many young writers; we have Ojen, and we have Irgens, and we have Paulsberg, and we have many more. That is the young Norway. I see them on the streets occasionally. They stalk past me as poets should stalk past ordinary people.
"You still have your delicate face, but it is not quite as pale as before you went away." "But what is the matter with your eyes?" cried Mrs. Paulsberg mercilessly. "I have never seen him as pallid as at this very moment." This reference to his seasickness caused general merriment. Mrs. Hanka continued to speak: She had heard his latest poem, that exquisite gem, "Memories."
If they do, and if they later on have to rely on others to discharge their obligations, then they are disgraced, branded with shame." Everybody looked at the bald fellow; even Paulsberg snatched his glasses that were hanging on a cord across his breast, looked at him a moment, and asked in a stage whisper: "What in the world what kind of a phenomenon is that?"
She looked quite offended as she crossed her legs and held her cup in her usual masculine fashion. Milde apologised instantly; his proposition was meant as a harmless joke; however, after considering the matter he admitted that perhaps it was a little foolish and that it would not do for Paulsberg to have anything to do with it. Perhaps they had better drop the whole thing; what did they think?
He would have liked to hear Paulsberg's opinion, but Paulsberg remained sphinxlike and silent. "How do you think of such things? These prose poems are really exquisite!" "It is my temperament, I suppose. I have no taste for fiction. In me everything turns to poetry, with or without rhymes; but verses always. I have entirely ceased to use rhymes lately."
Lars Paulsberg said jestingly, and still amiably: "As I said before, I have done nothing but curse all day, so I guess I have contributed considerably to the indignation of our youth." Attorney Grande, who enjoyed himself immensely, was quite proud over his idea of getting Coldevin to come.
They had met Norem outside. Coldevin, too, spoke about the situation; he accused the young because they had remained silent and accepted this last indignity without a protest. God help us, what kind of a youth was that? Was our youth, then, entirely decadent? "It looks bad for us again," said Milde in a stage whisper. Paulsberg smiled.
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