Mysteries by Knut Hamsun Read Free Book Online Page A

it. There’s nothing to be done about that—. Listen, the clock is striking half-past ten—. There certainly isn’t, there’s nothing to be done about that. But if you only knew how dearly I have remembered you these ten or twelve years, not forgetting you for a moment—. Heh-heh, but that is really my own fault, she can’t help that. While other people remember someone for a year and that’s that, I go on remembering for ten.
    I’ll give that white-haired egg-wife an assistance, well, both a handout and an assistance, for the sake of her eyes. I’ve got worlds of money to take from, sixty-two thousand kroner for a landed property, cash in hand at that. Ho-ho, I need only glance at the table to find three telegraphic documents of the greatest value before my eyes—. Ah, some joke that was, what a trick! One is an agronomist and a capitalist, one doesn’t sell just like that, at the first offer, one sleeps on it and thinks it over. That’s what one does, one thinks it over. And meanwhile not a soul is surprised, although one purposely made the joke as crude and the trick as thick as at all possible. 6 Man, your name is jackass! One can lead you by the nose wherever one likes . 7
    Over there, for instance, sticking out of my vest pocket, is the neck of a small bottle. It’s medicine, Prussic acid, that I’m keeping as a curiosity, not having the courage to use it. Why, then, do I carry it around with me, and why did I provide myself with it? Humbug again, nothing but humbug, the modern humbug of decadence, quest for publicity, and snobbery. Pfui—. As pure and fine as porcelain, she is my proper medicine—.
    Or take an innocent thing such as my lifesaving medal. I earned it honestly, as they say; one dabbles in all sorts of things, one saves people’s lives. But whether I really deserve any credit for it, God only knows. Judge for yourselves, gentlemen and ladies: A young man stands at the ship’s rail, he’s crying, his shoulders are shaking; when I speak to him he gives me a distracted look and scurries down to the saloon. I pursue him—the man has already turned in. I examine the passenger list, find the man’s name and note that he’s going to Hamburg. That’s the first evening. From now on I keep a constant eye on him, taking him by surprise in unexpected places and looking him squarely in the face. Why am I doing it? Gentlemen and ladies, judge for yourselves! I see him cry, he’s horribly tormented by something and repeatedly gazes into the deep with a rapt, distraught expression in his face. What concern is it of mine? None, to be sure, and so judge for yourselves, go right ahead! A couple of days go by, there is a head wind and a high sea. At two o’clock in the night he comes aft, where I’m already hiding out and observing him; the moon gives his face a yellowish cast. What then? He turns here and there, flings up his arms and jumps overboard, feet first. But he is unable to hold back a scream. Did he regret his decision? Did he panic at the last moment? If not, why did he scream? Gentlemen and ladies, what would you have done in my place? I leave it entirely in your hands. Maybe you would have respected the honest, though faltering courage of the poor unfortunate and kept quiet in your hiding place; I, on the other hand, yell to the captain on the bridge and jump overboard in turn, and in my haste I even go head first. I splash about like crazy, floundering in every direction, all the while hearing shouts from thunderous voices on board. Suddenly I bump against his arm, outstretched and stiff, with splayed fingers. He kicks a bit with his legs, good! I grab him by the neck, but he gets heavier and heavier, turning lazy and no longer kicking; finally he even gives a tug, to get free. I wheel about with him—the heavy sea knocks our foreheads together and I black out. What should I do? I grind my teeth and curse like blazes, holding the fellow firmly and stubbornly by the scruff of his neck,