Mogens and Other Stories | Page 9

snow, the result of a whole
week's uninterrupted blowing, was in the process of rapidly melting
away. The air was full of sunlight and reflection from the white snow,
which in large, shining drops dripped down past the windows. Within
the room all forms and colors had awakened, all lines and contours had
come to life. Whatever was flat extended, whatever was bent curved,
whatever was inclined slid, and whatever was broken refracted the
more. All kinds of green tones mingled on the flower-table, from the
softest dark-green to the sharpest yellow-green. Reddish brown tones
flooded in flames across the surface of the mahogany table, and gold
gleamed and sparkled from the knick-knacks, from the frames and
moldings, but on the carpet all the colors broke and mingled in a joyous,
shimmering confusion.
Camilla sat at the window and sewed, and she and the Graces on the
mantle were quite enveloped in a reddish light from the red curtains
Mogens walked slowly up and down the room, and passed every
moment in and out of slanting beams of light of pale rainbow-colored
dust.
He was in talkative mood.
"Yes," he said, "they are a curious kind of people, these with whom you
associate. There isn't a thing between heaven and earth which they
cannot dispose of in the turn of a hand. This is common, and that is
noble; this is the most stupid thing that has been done since the creation
of the world, and that is the wisest; this is so ugly, so ugly, and that is
so beautiful it cannot be described. They agree so absolutely about all
this, that it seems as if they had some sort of a table or something like
that by which they figured things out, for they always get the same
result, no matter what it may be. How alike they are to each other, these

people! Every one of them knows the same things and talks about the
same things, and all of them have the same words and the same
opinions."
"You don't mean to say," Camilla protested, "that Carlsen and Ronholt
have the same opinions."
"Yes, they are the finest of all, they belong to different parties! Their
fundamental principles are as different as night and day. No, they are
not. They are in such agreement that it is a perfect joy. Perhaps there
may he some little point about which they don't agree; perhaps, it is
merely a misunderstanding. But heaven help me, if it isn't pure comedy
to listen to them. It is as if they had prearranged to do everything
possible not to agree. They begin by talking in a loud voice, and
immediately talk themselves into a passion. Then one of them in his
passion says something which he doesn't mean, and then the other one
says the direct opposite which he doesn't mean either, and then the one
attacks that which the other doesn't mean, and the other that which the
first one didn't mean, and the game is on."
"But what have they done to you?"
"They annoy me, these fellows. If you look into their faces it is just as
if you had it under seal that nothing especial is ever going to happen in
the world in the future." Camilla laid down her sewing, went over and
took hold of the corners of his coat collar and looked roguishly and
questioningly at him.
"I cannot bear Carlsen," he said angrily, and tossed his head.
"Well, and then."
"And then you are very, very sweet," he murmured with a comic
tenderness.
"And then?"
"And then," he burst out, "he looks at you and listens to you and talks
to you in a way I don't like. He is to quit that, for you are mine and not
his. Aren't you? You are not his, not his in any way. You are mine, you
have bonded yourself to me as the doctor did to the devil; you are mine,
body and soul, skin and bones, till all eternity."
She nodded a little frightened, looked trustfully at him; her eyes filled
with tears, then she pressed close to him and he put his arms around her,
bent over her, and kissed her on the forehead.
The same evening Mogens went to the station with the councilor who

had received a sudden order in reference to an official tour which he
was to make. On this account Camilla was to go to her aunt's the next
morning and stay there until he returned,
When Mogens had seen his future father-in-law off, he went home,
thinking of the fact that he now would not see Camilla for several days.
He turned into the street where she lived. It was long and narrow and
little frequented. A cart