Excerpt: ...Then he added: "You might do me the favour to try to interest Gregersen in my book, and see if he won't review it in the Gazette." And as he noticed that she grew more and more thoughtful, that she even looked interrogatingly straight into his eyes, he added: "Of course, you need not ask him directly-only give him a little hint, a ...Read MoreExcerpt: ...Then he added: "You might do me the favour to try to interest Gregersen in my book, and see if he won't review it in the Gazette." And as he noticed that she grew more and more thoughtful, that she even looked interrogatingly straight into his eyes, he added: "Of course, you need not ask him directly-only give him a little hint, a reminder." Could this be Irgens? But she remembered at once his painful position, alone as he was, fighting a conspiracy single-handed; and she excused him. She ought to have thought of giving Gregersen a little hint herself and spared her Poet this humiliation. Yes, she certainly would speak to Gregersen at once. And Irgens thanked her; his bitterness vanished slowly. They sat silently on the sofa some time; then she said: "Listen! An awful thing happened with that red tie of yours-you remember the one I took from you once? He saw it!" "How could you be so careless? What did he say?" "Nothing; he never says anything. It fell out as I opened my dress. Well, don't let that worry you; it doesn't matter. When can I see you again?" Ever, ever her tenderness was the same! Irgens took her hand and caressed it. How fortunate he was to have her! She was the only one in all the world who understood him, who was good to him-How about that stay in the country? Had she given it up? Yes; she was not going. She told him frankly that she had had no trouble changing her husband's mind; he had given in at once. But she was sorry for the children. "Yes," answered Irgens sympathetically. And suddenly he asked in a whisper: "Did you lock the door as you came in?" She glanced at him, lowered her eyes and whispered: "Yes." IV On the 17th of May, Footnote: Norway's Independence Day. in the morning, the birds are singing over the city. A coal-heaver, tired from a night of toil, wanders up through the docks with his shovel across his shoulder; he is black, weary, and athirst; he is going home. And as he walks along, the city begins to stir; a...Read Less
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