Mysteries by Knut Hamsun; Gerry Bothmer; Sven Birkerts; Isaac Bashevis Singer

Author:Knut Hamsun; Gerry Bothmer; Sven Birkerts; Isaac Bashevis Singer
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Classics, Modern
ISBN: 9781440673634
Publisher: Penguin Books
Published: 1971-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

XIII

A COUPLE OF DAYS went by.

Nagel stayed at the hotel, wandering about with a gloomy air and looking harassed and suffering; his eyes had in the course of these two days become quite lusterless. He never spoke to anyone, not even to people in the hotel. He had a rag tied around one hand; one night when he had been out until the early morning as usual, he returned with one hand inside his handkerchief. He said the two wounds he had were caused by his tripping over a discarded harrow left on the dock.

On Thursday morning it rained, and the unpleasant weather made him still more depressed. However, after reading the papers in bed and enjoying an animated scene in the French Chamber of Deputies, he suddenly snapped his fingers and jumped out of bed. Why the hell should he mope! The world was big, rich, merry, the world was beautiful, you bet your life it was!

Before he was fully dressed, he rang and informed Sara that he intended to have some visitors in the evening, six or seven who could whoop it up a bit in this vale of tears, merry souls: Dr. Stenersen; Mr. Hansen, the lawyer; the teacher, and so on.

He promptly sent out invitations. Miniman answered that he would come; Mr. Reinert, the deputy, was also invited but stayed away. By five o’clock they were all gathered in Nagel’s room. Since it was still raining and the skies were dark, the lamp was lighted and the blinds drawn.

And so the bacchanal began, a carouse and a priceless infernal hubbub that gave the little town something to talk about for several days to come....

As soon as Miniman entered the room, Nagel went up to him and apologized for having talked so much nonsense the last time they met. He took Miniman’s hand and shook it heartily; he also introduced him to Øien, the young student, who was the only one that didn’t know him. Miniman whispered a thank-you for the new trousers; now he was new from top to toe.1

“You still don’t have a vest, do you?”

“No, but that’s not necessary. I’m no lord, I assure you I don’t need a vest.”

Dr. Stenersen had broken his glasses and was now wearing a pince-nez without a cord, which was constantly slipping off.

“Say what you will,” he said, “we’re certainly living in a time of liberation. Just look at the election. And compare it to the previous election.”

Everyone was drinking steadily; the teacher was already speaking in monosyllables, and that was an unfailing sign. Hansen, the lawyer, who had doubtless had a few drinks before he came, began as usual to contradict the doctor and make a nuisance of himself.

For his part, Hansen was a socialist, rather advanced, if he might say so. He wasn’t very pleased with the election. What sort of liberation did it represent, could anyone tell him that? Oh, go to hell! A nice time of liberation they were having! Wasn’t even a man

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