Mysteries

by Knut Hamsun

  “Why have you been telling me all this? Don’t you know that I—”

  “Oh sure, sure!” he cut in, exceedingly agitated. “I know what you were going to say: that you have belonged to someone else for a long time and that it’s dishonorable of me to try to force myself on you now, afterward, when it’s too late—how could I not know that? Why, then, have I told you all this? Well, to influence you, make an impression on you, get you to think it over. As God is my witness, I’m speaking the truth, I can do nothing else. I know you are engaged to be married, that you are in love with your young man, and that I cannot get anywhere with you. Still, I decided to try to influence you a little, I refused to give up hope. If you can imagine what it means to give up all hope, then perhaps you’ll understand me better. When I said just now that I didn’t expect to get anywhere, I was lying, of course. I only said it to set your mind at rest for the moment and to gain time, so you wouldn’t become all too alarmed at once. Oh dear, did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to say that you ever gave me any hope, nor have I ever imagined I could cut anyone out. That never even occurred to me, alas. But in certain moments, when everything seemed hopeless, I have thought to myself : All right, she’s engaged and she’ll soon be leaving, goodbye; but she’s not utterly lost to me yet, she has not already left, she’s not married, or dead, so who knows? And if I gave it my all, perhaps there would still be time! You’ve become my constant thought, my obsession, I see you in everything and call every blue stream Dagny. I don’t believe a single day has gone by during these past few weeks without my thinking about you. No matter at what hour I leave the hotel, as soon as I open the door and find myself on the steps, the hope shoots through my heart: maybe you’ll meet her this time! And I look for you everywhere. It’s quite beyond me, I just can’t help it. If I have now surrendered, I certainly didn’t surrender without a fight, believe me. It’s not a happy thought to know in your heart that your efforts have been sadly wasted and yet to be unable to refrain from making an effort; that’s why one resists to the very end. But what if it doesn’t do any good? When you spend a sleepless night sitting by the window in your room, you dream up all sorts of things! You have a book in your hand, but you don’t read; you clench your teeth again and again and read three lines, then you can’t anymore and close the book, shaking your head. Your heart is beating wildly, you softly whisper some sweet, secret words to yourself, calling a name and kissing it in your thoughts. The clock strikes two, four, six; then you decide to make an end of it and to seize the first chance you have to take the plunge and confess all....6 If I might ask anything of you now, it would be not to talk. I love you, but don’t talk, don’t talk. Wait three minutes.”

  She had listened to him in utter dismay, without uttering a single word in reply. They still weren’t moving.

  “You must be crazy!” she said, shaking her head. And distressed and pale, with an icy glint in her blue eyes, she added, “You know I’m engaged, you remember and assume that, and yet—”

  “Of course, I know! Could I forget that face and that uniform ? After all, he’s a handsome man, and it isn’t that I find any fault with him; and yet I could wish him dead and gone. What’s the use of saying to myself, as I’ve done a hundred times: there you won’t get anywhere!7 Instead I try to avoid thinking about this impossibility, telling myself, Oh yes, I’ll get somewhere all right, lots of things can happen, there’s still hope.... And there is hope, isn’t there?”

  “No, no! Don’t bring me to utter despair!” she cried. “What do you want me to do? What are you thinking of? Do you mean that I should—. Good God, don’t let’s talk about it anymore, please. And now go! You’ve ruined everything with a few stupid words, you’ve even spoiled our talks, and now we won’t be able to meet anymore. Why did you do it? Oh, if I’d only had an inkling of it! Well, you must forget about it, I beg you, for your own sake as well as mine. You know very well I can never be anything to you; I don’t see how you could ever get that idea. So don’t let us drag this out. You must go back to your room8 and try to resign yourself. Oh dear, I’m truly sorry for you, but there’s nothing else I can do.”

  “But does it have to be goodbye today? Am I seeing you for the last time? No, no, I say! I promise to keep cool, to talk about anything else you like, and never again about this; so shall we meet? When, that is, I’ve cooled off? Some day, perhaps, when you’re fed up with all the others—as long as today isn’t the very last time. You’re shaking your head again—your lovely head, you’re shaking it. How absurd everything is! ... What if you turned me down but said yes anyway, telling a lie to make me happy? It has turned into a sad day, you know, very sad, though this morning I was singing. Just one more time!”

  “You shouldn’t ask that of me, since I can’t promise it. Besides, what would be the use? Just go now, please! Maybe we’ll meet again, I don’t know, but it’s quite possible. No, go now, will you!” she exclaimed impatiently. “You’ll be doing me a real kindness,” she added.9

  Pause. He stood staring at her, his breast heaving. Then he pulled himself together and bowed to her. Dropping his cap on the ground, he suddenly grabbed her hand, which she hadn’t offered him, and squeezed it hard between both of his. When she gave a little cry, he let her go at once, distressed, showing real despair at having caused her pain. And when she left, he stood there following her with his eyes. A few more steps and she would be gone!10 His cheeks flushing, he bites his lips till the blood comes and wants to go, to turn his back on her in heartfelt anger. When all was said and done, he was still a man; it was all right, everything was all right, goodbye....

  Suddenly she turned around and said, “And you mustn’t go prowling around the parsonage at night. You really mustn’t, I beg you! So it was you who made my doggie bark so furiously the past several nights. One night Papa was on the point of getting out of bed. You can’t do that, do you hear! Anyway, I hope you won’t get us both into trouble.”

  These words, no more. Still, at the sound of her voice his resentment was gone; he shook his head.

  “And today is my birthday!” he said. With that he shielded his face with his arm and left.

  Watching him go, she hesitated a moment and then ran back to him. She seized his arm.

  “I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is, I cannot be anything for you.11 But maybe we’ll meet again sometime, don’t you think? Well, I have to go.”

  She turned on her heel and quickly marched off.

  XII

  A VEILED LADY came walking up from the docks, where she had just stepped ashore from the steamer. She headed straight for the Central Hotel.

  Nagel happened to stand by the window of his room looking out; he had paced the floor restlessly, up and down, all afternoon, only stopping now and then to drink a glass of water. His cheeks were unusually red, feverishly red, and his eyes were burning. For hours on end he had been thinking of one and the same thing: his latest meeting with Dagny Kielland.

  For a moment he had tried to persuade himself that he could simply leave the place and forget the whole thing. He opened his trunk and took out some papers, a couple of brass instruments, a flute, a few sheets of music, some clothes, including another yellow suit just like the one he was wearing, and various other things which he spread over the floor. Yes, he would leave, the town wasn’t fit to live in any longer; there were no flags flying anymore and the streets were dead, so why shouldn’t he leave? Why the hell had he wanted to poke his nose into this place anyway ? It was just a hole, a little one-horse town, with small, longeared people.

  But he knew very well that he wouldn’t leave, that he only wanted to boost his morale, thus deluding himself. Despondent, he again packed all his things and put his bags back in their place. Then, utterly distraught, he paced up and down between the door and the window with hurried steps, while the clock downstairs struck one hour after the other. Finally it struck six....

  When he caught sight of the veiled lady just climbing the hotel steps
as he stopped by the window, his expression completely changed and he clutched his head once or twice. Well, why not! She had just as much right to visit the place as he. Anyway, it was no concern of his, he had other things to worry about, and besides she and he were quits.

  He at once forced himself to be calm, sat down on a chair and picked up a newspaper from the floor, looking at it here and there as if reading it. No more than a minute or two later, Sara opened the door and handed him a card on which was written, in pencil, “Kamma.” Just Kamma. He got up and went downstairs.

  The lady was standing in the lobby; she was wearing her veil. Nagel bowed to her without a word.

  “Hello, Simonsen!” she said in a loud, emotional voice. Simonsen, she said.

  Startled, he quickly composed himself and called to Sara, “Where could we go for a moment?”

  They were shown into a room next to the restaurant, where the lady collapsed in a chair as soon as the door was closed behind them. She was in a state of great agitation.

  Their conversation was intermittent and obscure, with half-words of which they alone understood the meaning, and with many allusions to the past. They had met before and knew one another. Their encounter lasted less than an hour. The lady spoke more Danish than Norwegian.

  “Pardon me for still calling you Simonsen,” she said. “That amusing old petname! How old and amusing! Every time I say it to myself, I can see you before me, large as life.”

  “When did you get here?” Nagel asked.

  “Now, just now, a little while ago; I came by the steamer.... Well, I’m leaving again right away.”

  “Right away?”

  “Look,” she says, “you’re glad I’m leaving again right away, don’t you think I can see that? ... But tell me, what should I do for my chest? Feel here, no, higher up! Well, what do you think? I believe it’s rather worse now; I mean, it has taken a turn for the worse since we saw one another, hasn’t it? Oh well, it doesn’t matter.... Do I look a mess? Tell me if I do. How does my hair look? Maybe I’m dirty too, downright filthy, I’ve been traveling for twenty-four hours.... You haven’t changed, you’re just as cold, just as cold.... Do you have a comb on you, by any chance?”

  “No—. How could you dream of coming here? What is it that—”

  “The same to you, the same to you, namely, How could you dream of sneaking off to a place like this? But I found you anyway! ... So you are an agronomist here, eh? Ha-ha-ha, I met some people on the dock who said you were an agronomist and that you had helped out a certain Mrs. Stenersen with her garden. You had taken care of some currant bushes, working in your shirtsleeves two days in a row. What an idea! ... My hands are ice-cold; well, they always are when I’m upset, and right now I’m upset. You don’t have much compassion for me, do you, though I call you Simonsen as in the old days and am cheerful and happy? This morning, while I was still lying in my berth, I thought to myself, How will he receive me, I wonder; won’t he at least call me by my first name and chuck me under the chin? I was almost certain that you would, but I was mistaken. I don’t ask you to do so now, mind you. Please, take note of that. It’s too late, I won’t have it.... Say, why are you constantly blinking your eyes? Is it because you’re thinking of something else while I’m talking to you?”

  “I don’t feel quite up to scratch today, Kamma,” he merely replied. “Couldn’t you tell me at once why you’ve come to see me? You would be doing me a great favor.”

  “Why I’ve come to see you?” she cried. “My God, how terribly you can hurt a person’s feelings! Are you afraid I may ask you for money, that I’ve come simply to clean you out? Just come out with it, if you really harbor such black thoughts in your heart.... But why have I come to see you, then? Take a guess! Don’t you know what day, what date, it is today? Can you possibly have forgotten your own birthday?”

  Sobbing, she threw herself on her knees before him, grabbing both his hands, which she held against her face and then pressed to her bosom.

  He was at once strangely moved by this intense tenderness, which he hadn’t expected anymore; he pulled her up and set her on his knees.

  “I didn’t forget your birthday,” she said, “I always remember it. You have no idea how often I weep over you at night, when I can’t sleep for just thinking.... My dear boy, you still have the same red lips! I thought about so many things on board; I wondered, Are his lips just as red still? ... How your eyes wander! You aren’t getting impatient, are you? Otherwise you are the same; but your eyes do wander, as if you were trying to figure out how to get rid of me as soon as possible. Why don’t I sit on the chair next to you, you will like that better, won’t you? I’ve got so much, so much, to talk to you about, and I have to hurry up, because the steamer will be leaving very soon, and right now you’re simply confusing me with your indifferent air. What can I say to make you sit up and listen to me? You aren’t the least bit grateful that I remembered your birthday and came up here.... Did you get lots of flowers? I trust you did. Mrs. Stenersen remembered you too, didn’t she? Tell me, this Mrs. Stenersen, for whom you serve as agronomist, what does she look like? Ha-ha-ha, what a man! ... I would have brought you some flowers too, if I had been able to afford it; but I’m too poor right now.... Ye gods, why don’t you listen to me these few paltry minutes, won’t you, please! How everything has changed! Do you remember how once—but you obviously don’t, and it’s pointless to remind you of it—well, once you recognized me a long way off simply by the feather in my hat, and as soon as you saw it you came running. You know quite well this is true, don’t you? It happened one day on the Ramparts.1 But now I can’t remember anymore why I mentioned that about the feather. Oh dear, I’ve forgotten how I was going to use it against you, though it was a good argument.... What now? Why jump up like that?”

  He got up, tiptoed across the room and jerked the door open.

  “Sara, they keep ringing for you in the dining room!” he called through the doorway.

  When he came back and sat down on his chair again, he nodded to Kamma and whispered, “I could tell she was peeping through the keyhole, all right.”

  Kamma was getting impatient.

  “And what if she was?” she said. “Why on earth are you so taken up with a thousand other things just now? I’ve been sitting here for a quarter of an hour and you haven’t even asked me to undo my veil. But don’t you dare ask me now, afterward! You don’t consider how awful it is to have a winter veil over one’s face in this heat. Oh well, it serves me right; what did I want to come here for anyway! It didn’t escape me that you asked the maid if we might go in here for just a moment. For just a moment! you said. That must have meant you’d make sure to finish with me in a minute or two. Oh, I don’t blame you, it’s only that it makes me so unspeakably sad. God help me! ... Why can’t I ever let you go? I know you’re mad, your eyes are as crazy as can be—yes, imagine, that’s what I’ve heard, and I can well believe it. But still I can’t let you go. Dr. Nissen said you were mad, and God knows you must be stark-mad to settle down in a place like this and call yourself an agronomist. Whoever heard the likes! And you’re still wearing that iron ring on your finger and forever sporting that loud yellow suit, which no one but you would touch....”

  “Did Dr. Nissen say I was mad?” he asked.

  “Dr. Nissen said that right out! Would you like to know to whom he said it?”

  Pause. He fell into a reverie for a moment. Then he looked up and asked, “Tell me frankly, Kamma, couldn’t I help you out with some money? You know I can do it.”

  “Never!” she cried, “never, do you hear! What on earth makes you think you can fling one insult after another in my face!”

  Pause.

  “I don’t see,” he said, “why we should sit here making things unpleasant for each other—”

  At this point she interrupted him with tears and no longer heeded what she was saying. “Who is unpleasant? Is it me? How utterly you have changed in a few months! I came here for one thing only,
to—. I don’t expect you to return my feelings anymore, and you know I’m not the sort who goes begging; but I’d hoped you would treat me mercifully.... God in heaven, what a perfect disaster my life has been! I ought to tear you out of my heart, but I can’t; instead, I trail after you and throw myself at your feet. Do you remember that day on the Drammen Road when you smacked a dog on the muzzle because he jumped me? Oh, it was all my fault, I screamed because I thought he was going to bite me; well, he wasn’t, he only wanted to play, and after you smacked him he crawled on his belly for us and lay down instead of running off. You were moved to tears that time, you petted the dog and cried over him on the quiet, it didn’t escape me; but now I see no tears, although ... This isn’t meant as a comparison, naturally; you don’t imagine I would compare myself to a dog, do you? God only knows what thoughts might occur to you in your arrogance! I know what the score is when you put on that face. I see you’re smiling, yes, you smiled, you did! You’re mocking me to my face! Let me tell you straight out ... No, no, no, forgive me! It’s just that I’m so desperate again. You see before you a broken woman, I’m completely broken, give me your hand! Oh,2 that you can never forget that peccadillo of mine. It was just a peccadillo, after all, when you stop to think. It was mean of me not to come to you that evening; you gave me one signal after another and yet I didn’t come. I still deeply regret it, God knows I do! But he wasn’t with me then, as you thought; he had been there, but he wasn’t there then, he had left. As you see, I confess and ask for mercy. But I should have sent him packing, yes, I should, I admit that, I don’t mind admitting everything; and I shouldn’t have—. Oh, I just can’t understand—I can’t understand anything anymore....”