Mysteries

by Knut Hamsun

  “‘I’ll sit here and wait a moment,’ the woman says; ‘I know I’ll end up doing it, agreeing to it. But I shouldn’t do it!’ And she sobs right to the Chinese’s face and wrings her hands.

  “‘What is it you shouldn’t do?’ I ask.

  “But she can hear I’m a foreigner and doesn’t answer.

  “She was unusually interesting and I decided to do something. I could lend her that money just to see how it would turn out. I did it purely out of curiosity, and afterward I slipped an extra dollar into her hand, to see what she would make of that, too. That should be most amusing.

  “She stares at me and thanks me; she doesn’t say anything, but nods repeatedly and looks at me with tearful eyes, though I had done it only out of curiosity. All right, she pays at the counter and asks for a room at once. She had handed over all her money.

  “She goes off and I follow her. We again stroll through a long corridor; there are numbered rooms on both sides, and the woman slips into one of these rooms and slams the door. I wait a while, but she doesn’t come back; I try the door, it’s locked.

  “Then I step into the next room and begin to wait. It has a red divan and an electric bell; the room is illuminated by a lamp wedged into the wall. I lie down on the divan, time hangs heavy and I’m bored. Just to do something, I press the button and ring the bell. I don’t want anything, but ring anyway.

  “A Chinese boy appears, looks at me and disappears again. A few moments go by. Come, let me have another look at you! I say, to pass the time; why don’t you come back? And I ring again.

  “The boy comes back, soundlessly, as if he were a ghost, gliding in his felt shoes. He doesn’t say anything, nor do I; but he hands me a tiny little porcelain pipe with a long, thin stem, and I accept it. Then he puts a live coal to it and I smoke. I hadn’t asked for the pipe, but I’m smoking. Soon my ears start buzzing....

  “Now I can’t recall anything until I feel I’m somewhere high up, that I’m ascending, soaring. The light around me was too bright for words, and the clouds I passed were white. Who was I, and where was I flying? Trying to jog my memory, I couldn’t remember anything, but I was wonderfully high up, gliding along. I saw green meadows far away, blue lakes, valleys and mountains in a golden light; I heard music from the stars, and the space around me swayed up and down with the melodies. The white clouds gave me immense pleasure; floating right through me, they made me feel as though I would die with delight. This went on and on, I knew nothing of time, and I had forgotten who I was. Then an earthly recollection flickers through my heart, and all of a sudden I begin to fall through the air.

  “I fall and fall, the light diminishes, it gets darker and darker around me; I can see the earth below and I recognize where I am—there are cities, wind and smoke. Then I stop. Looking around, I see ocean everywhere. My happy feeling is gone, I bump against the rocks and feel cold. There is a white sandy bottom under my feet, and above me I see nothing but water. I swim a few strokes and pass many strange plants, thick green foliage plants, marine flowers swaying back and forth on their stems-a a mute world where not a sound is heard but where everything lives and moves. Another few strokes take me to a coral reef. There were no corals anymore, the reef had been plundered, but I said to myself: Someone has been here before me! And I no longer felt so lonely, since someone had been there before. I start swimming again, hoping to hit land, but this time I take only a stroke or two before I stop. I stop because someone is lying on the bottom in front of me; it’s a woman, tall and thin, and she lies on a rock, badly cut up. As I touch her, I realize that I know her, but she’s dead, and I don’t understand how she can be, since I recognize her by the crucifix with the green stones. It’s the same woman I had recently followed through those long corridors with the numbered rooms. I want to swim on, but pause to straighten her out; she lies spread-eagled over a big rock, and it makes an uncanny impression on me. Her eyes are wide open, but I pull her to a white spot; I can see the crucifix around her neck and slip it under her dress so that the fishes won’t get at it. Then I swim away....

  “The next morning I was told that the woman had died during the night. She had jumped into the sea outside the Chinese quarter ; they found her in the morning. However strange it might seem, she was dead. Perhaps I could meet her again if I tried! I thought. And I smoked opium a second time so I would meet her, but I didn’t meet her.

  “How mysterious it all was! Something happened later on, too. I had come back to Europe, I was home. One warm night when I was wandering about, I came down to the harbor, to the pumping works, where I remained for a while listening to the talk aboard the ships. It was very quiet all around, the pumps weren’t running. Finally I grew tired, but I didn’t want to go home because it was so hot. I climbed the housing of one of the pumps and sat down. But the night was so still and warm, I couldn’t keep awake; soon I was fast asleep.

  “I’m awakened by a voice calling me; looking down, I see a woman standing on the rocks. She’s tall and skinny; when the gas lamp flares up I can see that she’s very lightly clad.

  “I say good evening.

  “‘It’s raining,’ she says.

  “‘Well, I don’t know whether it’s raining or not, but if it does one had better seek cover.’ And I scramble down from the pump housing. That very moment the pumps start rattling, a paddle turns in the air and disappears, another paddle turns in the air and disappears, the pumps are running. If I hadn’t gotten away in the nick of time, I would’ve been cut to pieces, completely crushed. That I understood right away.

  “I look around me, and sure enough, a small rain begins to fall. The woman is walking away, I can see her in front of me; I knew her very well, she was still wearing the crucifix. I had recognized her from the beginning, but pretended I didn’t know her. Wanting to catch up with her, I walked for all I was worth; but I didn’t catch up with her. She didn’t use her feet, she glided along without stirring, turned a corner and disappeared.

  “That was four years ago.”

  Nagel pauses. The doctor seems almost inclined to laugh, but he still says, as seriously as he can, “And since then you haven’t met her?”

  “Oh yes, I saw her again today. That’s why I have a feeling of dread off and on. I was standing by the window of my room looking out, and there she was, coming straight toward me across the square, as though from the docks and the sea; she stopped beneath my windows and looked up. I wasn’t quite sure it was me she was looking at, so I moved over to the other window ; but she turned her eyes and looked at me there, too. I waved a greeting to her, but on seeing that she quickly turned and floated back across the square to the docks again. Jakobsen, the puppy, raised her hackles and streaked out of the hotel, barking furiously. That somehow got to me. I had almost forgotten her after all that time, and here she turns up again. Maybe she wanted to warn me about something.”

  Then the doctor burst out laughing.

  “Sure,” he said, “she wanted to warn you against coming to see us.”

  “Well, this time she’s mistaken, of course, there’s nothing to be afraid of. But the last time there were those paddles, I would’ve been torn to pieces. So I’ve become a bit uneasy. Well, it doesn’t mean anything, does it? Heh-heh, what a pretty pass it would be to come to grief in that way. I have to laugh at the whole thing.”

  “Just nerves and superstition!” the doctor said shortly.

  But now the others began telling stories of their own, and the clock struck one hour after the other; it was getting on toward evening. Meanwhile Nagel remained silent; he was beginning to feel chilly. Finally he got up to go. He probably shouldn’t bother Dagny with that letter, he’d better not; perhaps he could see the doctor tomorrow and hand it to him then. His happy mood was completely gone.

  To his great surprise Dagny also stood up as he was about to leave. She said, “You’re all telling such creepy stories that I’m scared stiff, too. I have to find my way home before it gets any darker.”

&nb
sp; They left the garden together. Nagel became warm with joy: now he could give her the letter! He would never have a better opportunity.

  “Did you want to talk to me about something?” the doctor called after him.

  “No, not really,” he replied, slightly confused. “I just wanted to say hello and ... It’s been such a long time since we met. Goodbye!”

  As they walked down the street they were both ill at ease, Dagny as well as he. All she could think to talk about was the weather. How mild it was this evening!

  “Yes, windless and mild!”

  He couldn’t find anything to say either, he simply kept looking at her. She had the same velvet eyes and the same blond braid down her back; all the feelings in his heart revived, her closeness intoxicated him and he passed his hand over his eyes. She grew lovelier and lovelier every time he saw her, every time! He forgot everything-forgot her disdain, her hiding Martha from him, and her tempting him so mercilessly with the handkerchief. He had to turn away to ward off another passionate outburst. No, he must hold up his head, he’d driven her to extremes twice before ; he was a man, after all! And he fairly held his breath, making himself hard.

  They had reached Main Street; the hotel was on the right. She looked as if she wanted to say something. He tacitly went along with her. Perhaps he could walk her through the forest? Suddenly she looked at him and said, “Thanks for your story! Do you feel anxious now? You shouldn’t!”1

  Yes, she was kind and gentle today; he would bring up the letter right away.

  “I would like to ask you a favor,” he said. “But I hardly dare-I don’t suppose you would do me any favors now?”

  “Oh yes, I would be glad to,” she replied.

  She would be glad to, she said! He dipped his hand in his pocket to get the letter.

  “I would like you to deliver this letter. It’s only a message, something I—. It’s of no importance, but—. It’s for Miss Gude. Maybe you know where Miss Gude is? She has gone away.”

  Dagny stopped. A curiously veiled glance crept into those blue eyes of hers; for a moment she stood as if frozen.

  “For Miss Gude?” she said.

  “Yes. If you would be so kind? But maybe it could wait, there’s no hurry—”

  “But certainly! ” she said of a sudden. “Just let me have it, you can trust me; Miss Gude will get your letter.” After pocketing the letter, she nodded abruptly and said, “Well, thanks for a pleasant evening. I have to go now.”

  With that she gave him another look and walked away.

  He was left standing there. Why had she broken off so quickly? She hadn’t looked angry as she left; on the contrary. And yet she had left so abruptly! There she turned onto Parsonage Road—now she was gone....

  When he could see her no longer, he went back to the hotel. She had been wearing a snow-white hat. And she had given him such a strange look....

  XXII

  WHAT A VEILED GLANCE she had given him! He couldn’t figure it out. But if he had crossed her again, he would make it up to her the next time they met. How heavy his head was feeling! But there was nothing at all to be anxious about, that much was certain, thank God!

  He sat down on the sofa and began turning the pages of a book, but he didn’t read. He got up and walked nervously over to the window. Without admitting it to himself, he hardly dared look out on the street for fear his eyes might possibly meet another unusual sight. His knees began to quake; what was the matter with him? He moved back to the sofa and let the book fall on the floor. His head was throbbing, he felt downright sick. He was probably running a temperature; those two successive nights he had lain out in the woods were getting to him at last, penetrating him from top to toe. He had begun to feel shivery already while sitting in the doctor’s garden.

  Well, it would no doubt pass! He wasn’t in the habit of giving up because of a slight cold; tomorrow he would be all right again! He rang for some cognac, but it had no effect on him; it didn’t even make him tipsy, though he drank several large glasses. The worst thing was that his head began to fail him, he couldn’t think clearly.

  How badly he had been shaken in the course of an hour! What now, why were the curtains flapping so noisily when there was no wind? Did it mean something? He got up and looked at himself in the mirror: he looked sick and distraught. His hair had turned grayer and his eyes were red-rimmed.... “Do you still feel anxious? You shouldn’t.” Lovely Dagny! Imagine, a pure-white hat....

  There is a knock on the door and the hotel keeper steps in. He is bringing him his bill at last, a long, two-page bill. However, he smiles and is extremely polite.

  Nagel at once gets his wallet and begins to look through it, meanwhile asking how much he owes, trembling with misgivings ; the hotel keeper tells him. For that matter, it could easily wait until tomorrow or some other day, there was no hurry.

  Well, God knows if he would be able to pay, perhaps he wouldn’t. Nagel can’t find any money. What, he didn’t have any money? He tosses the wallet on the table and begins searching his pockets, at a complete loss what to do and looking desperately everywhere. Finally he even goes through his trouser pockets, pulls out some change and says, “Here’s some money, but I suspect it won’t be enough, no, it probably won’t; count it yourself.”

  “No,” says the hotel keeper too, “it’s not enough.”

  Nagel breaks out in a sweat. He wants to give the hotel keeper these few kroner for the present; he even goes through his vest pockets, in case he might have some more change there. There was none. But he could surely borrow some money, maybe someone would oblige him with a small loan? Who knows, if he asked someone, maybe he would be helped out!

  The hotel keeper no longer looks pleased, even his politeness deserts him; he picks up Nagel’s wallet, still lying on the table, and begins going through it himself.

  “Go right ahead!” Nagel says. “You can see for yourself, there are only some papers. I just don’t understand.”

  The hotel keeper unclasps the middle compartment; he drops the wallet instantly, his face one big smile of surprise.

  “There it is!” he says. “Thousands of kroner! So you were joking, you only wanted to see if I could take a joke?”

  Nagel was happy as a child and accepted this explanation. Heaving a delicious sigh of relief, he says, “Yes, of course, I was only joking; I suddenly felt like pulling a fast one on you. Sure, I still have lots of money, thank God; look here, just take a look!”

  There were, in fact, many big bills, lots of money in thousand-kroner bills; the hotel keeper had to go out and change them before he could get his part. But even long after he had left, beads of perspiration stood out on Nagel’s forehead, and he was shaking with emotion. How upset he had been, and what an empty buzz there was in his head!

  After a while he dropped into an uneasy slumber on the sofa; tossing and turning in his dreams, he talked aloud, sang, and called for cognac, which he drank, half asleep and feverish. Sara was constantly looking in on him, but though he talked to her almost all the time, she understood very little of what he said. He lay with his eyes closed.

  No, he didn’t want to undress, what was she thinking of? Wasn’t it the middle of the day? He could still clearly hear the birds chirping. She mustn’t fetch the doctor either. Why, the doctor would only give him some yellow ointment and some white ointment, and then they would mistake one for the other and use them the wrong way, killing him on the spot. Karlsen had died of it; she remembered Karlsen, didn’t she? Yes, he’d died of it. Karlsen had somehow gotten a fish hook in his throat, but when the doctor came with his medicines it turned out he’d choked on a glass of quite ordinary christening water from the well. Heh-heh-heh, though it was no laughing matter.... “Sara, you mustn’t think I’m drunk; you don‘t, do you? ‘Association of ideas,‘ do you hear that? ‘Encyclopedists,’ and so forth. Count on your buttons, Sara, and see if I’m drunk.... Listen, the mills are running, the town mills! My God, what a godforsaken hole you live in, Sara
; I would like to deliver you out of the hands of your enemies, as it says in Holy Writ. Oh, go to hell, go to hell! Who are you, anyway? You are all fakes, and I’ll get the better of you, one and all. You don’t believe me? Oh, but I’ve been keeping an eye on you! I’m convinced that Lieutenant Hansen promised Miniman two woolen shirts, but do you think he got them! And do you think Miniman dared admit it? Let me disabuse you on that score: Miniman did not dare admit it, he wriggled out of it. Do you get me? If I’m not mistaken, Mr. Grøgaard, you’re again laughing your dirty laugh behind your newspaper, aren’t you? No? Well, no matter.... Are you still there, Sara? Good! If you’ll sit here another five minutes, I’ll tell you something; is it an agreement? But first try to imagine a man whose eyebrows are gradually falling out. Can you hold on to that? Whose eyebrows are falling out. Next, may I ask if you’ve ever slept in a bed that creaked? Count on your buttons to see if you have. I’m very suspicious of you. For that matter, everyone in town is under suspicion, I’ve been keeping an eye on them all. For that matter. And I’ve acquitted myself well, I’ve given you all a score of extremely rich topics of conversation every time and turned your lives into disarray; I’ve contributed one turbulent scene after another to your respectable appendix-like existence. Ho-ho, how the mills have been whirring! Whereupon, my highly respected maiden, Sara Tosspot Josefsdatter, I advise you to eat your broth while it’s hot, because if you wait until it’s cold, I swear to God there won’t be anything left but water.... More cognac, Sara, I have a headache, on both sides of my head and in the middle. It’s quite strange, the way it hurts....”