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Updated: May 16, 2025
Tidemand watched this awhile with blinking eyes; then he turned quickly away and went out. In half an hour or so Hanka came back. "They are asleep now," she said. "I was wondering if I might ask you to stay," said Tidemand. "We live rather informally here; we keep house in a way, but nothing seems to go right for us.
She does not glance into the large, cracked mirror as she passes; she exhales no odours of perfumes; she takes, accidentally, her husband's arm and walks up and down with him while the conversation and the refreshments keep the other guests at the table. Tidemand is talking, with somewhat forced liveliness, about a cargo of grain, a certain Furst in Riga, a raise in customs duties somewhere.
Irgens had asked Milde for roasted coffee, and since then had not been seen. Nobody seemed to think it strange that the two had sneaked away, and no questions were asked; Tidemand was talking to Ole Henriksen about his trip to Torahus. "But have you time to run off like this?" he asked. "I'll take time," answered Ole. "By the way, I want to tell you something by and by."
But there is no telling what may happen What do you say to that?" Tidemand was more than surprised; he stopped. "But I had not the slightest idea; you haven't said a word to me about it!" "No; I was hardly in a position to say anything yet. There is nothing definite; she is very young, you know. Suppose she had changed her mind? She may tell me she has other intentions when I get there.
Damn him, he would hate to trust him.... Tidemand hears this and he laughs with the others, louder than the others, and he says: "You are right, he is not to be trusted, the sly dog!" Tidemand was sober as always. They did not restrain themselves; the conversation was free and they swore liberally.
Irgens had never made any payments; the credit column was clean. Tidemand still remembered how Irgens used to joke about his debts. He did not conceal that he owed his twenty thousand; he admitted it with open and smiling face. What could he do? He had to live. It was deplorable that circumstances forced him into such a position.
If she only knew what to do now! Go home? That would probably be the best. Had she had parents she would most likely have gone to them; however, she had never had any parents, practically. She had better go home to Tidemand, where she still lived.... And with a desolate smile she gave Irgens her hand and said farewell. He felt so relieved because of her calmness that he pressed her hand warmly.
He liked to ring whenever he wanted anything; he preferred his meals served at all hours, whenever he took a notion, no matter if it happened to be meal-time or not. And Tidemand went into details: he could not bear to have his wife serve him his soup, for instance was it possible for a woman, even with the best intention in the world, to divine how much soup he might want?
Tidemand paced back and forth, mumbling, figuring, calculating every contingency regarding this business in tar. He happened to see a long entry in the ledger which was lying open on his desk. It was Irgens's account. Tidemand glanced at it indifferently; old loans, bad debts, wine and loans, wine and cash. The entries were dated several years back; there were none during the last year.
But there was no hurry; only wait until winter! As usual, Tidemand was eagerly sought by business solicitors of every description; subscription lists and all kinds of propositions were placed before him; his name was in demand everywhere.
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