Look Back on Happiness Part 27

"But he himself?"

"His father owns the big shop in Almes Street, you know."

"Yes, but what about _him_; what does he do?"

"I don't know if he does anything special; he just studies. His father's so rich, you know."

I recalled old Flaten's shop in Almes Street, a good, solid countryman's shop; in the mornings the yard was always full of horses, while the owners were busy making purchases in the shop.

"He's such a man of the world," she went on. "He simply throws money about--banknotes. When he goes anywhere, the people all whisper, 'That's Flaten!'"

"He dresses as though he were a baron," I said.

"Yes," she replied, rather offended. "Yes, he dresses well--always has."

"Is that the man you want?" I asked lightly.

She was silent a moment, and then said with a resolute nod:

"Yes."

"What--that dandy?"

"Why not? We're old friends, we've gone to school together, spent a lot of time together. It's really based on a firm foundation. He's the only man I've ever been in love with in all my life, and it's lasted many years.

Sometimes, I'll admit, I forget him, but the moment I see him again, I'm as much in love as ever. I've told him so, and we both laugh about it, but that doesn't change it. It's queer."

"Then I suppose he's too rich to marry her," I thought, and asked nothing more.

When we parted, I said:

"Where does Carpenter Nikolai work?"

"I don't know," she replied. "Oh, yes, I do know. We're near there, and I can show you if you like. What do you want to see him for?"

"Nothing. I just wondered if he's at a good place, with a competent master."

Why did I, indeed, want to see Carpenter Nikolai, the artisan? Yet I have visited him and made his acquaintance. He is a bull in stature, strong and plain-featured, a man of few words. Last Sat.u.r.day we saw the town together; why, I don't know, but I suggested it myself.

I made friends with the carpenter for my own sake, because of my loneliness. I no longer went to the benches by the sh.o.r.e, as the weather was a little too cold, and Miss Torsen interested me very little now; she had changed so much since returning to the town. She had become more the ordinary type of girl, not in any one thing, but in general. She thought of nothing but vanities and nonsense, and seemed quite to have forgotten her last summer's wholesome, bitter view of life. Now she was back at school again, in her leisure hours meeting the gentleman named Flaten, and this occupied all of her time. Either she had no depths, or she had been vitiated in the vital years of adolescence.

"What do you expect me to do?" she asked. "Of course I'm going to school again; I've been going to school ever since I was a child. I'm no good at anything else. I can only learn--that's what I'm used to. There isn't much I can think or do on my own, and I don't enjoy it either. So what do you expect?"

No, what could I expect?

Carpenter Nikolai went to the circus. He was not much surprised at anything he saw there, or he pretended not to be. The acrobatics on horseback--"Well, not bad, but after all--!" The tiger--"I thought tigers were much bigger!" Besides, his big, heavy head seemed preoccupied with other thoughts, and he paid little attention to the women riders who were doing their tricks.

On the way home he said:

"I ought not to ask you, I expect, but would you go to the _Krone_ with me tomorrow evening?"

"The _Krone_--what's that?"

"It's a place where they dance."

"A dance hall, in other words. Where is it? Do you feel so much like dancing?"

"No, not much."

"You want to see what goes on there?"

"Yes."

"All right, I'll go."

It was on a Sunday evening, the girls' and boys' own evening, that the carpenter and I went to the dance.

He had decked himself out in a starched collar and a heavy watch chain.

But he was very young, and when you are young, you look well in anything.

He had such remarkable strength that it was never necessary for him to give way; this had lent him a.s.surance and authority. If you spoke to him, he was slow to reply, and if you slapped him on the shoulder, he was slow in turning round to see who had greeted him. He was a pleasant, good-humored companion.

We went to the booking office; there was no one there, and the window was closed. Moreover a notice on the wall announced that the hall was let to a private club for the first two hours of the evening.

A few young people came along as we were standing there, read the notice, and went away again. The carpenter was unwilling to go, looked round, and went in through the gate as though looking for someone.

"We can't do anything about it," I called after him.

"No," he said. "But I wonder--?"

He crossed the yard and began to look up at all the windows.

A man came down the stairs.

"What is it?" he asked.

"My friend wanted to buy a ticket," I replied. The carpenter still showed no inclination to return from the yard.

The man approached me, and proved to be the landlord. He explained, like the notice, that a club had rented the hall for the first two hours.

"Come along, we can't get in!" I called to my companion.

But he was in no hurry, so I chatted with the landlord while waiting for him.

"Yes, it's rather an exclusive club. Only eight couples, but just the same they've hired a full orchestra--rich people, you see."

They had refreshments and plenty of champagne, and then they danced as though their lives depended on it. Why they did it? Oh, well, young people, rich and fashionable, bored by Sunday evening at home; they wanted to work off the week's idleness in two hours, so they danced. Not unusual, really.