So the cars drove up to the next door of the same house, that being the
bar, and there the gentlemen gravely got out and paid the drivers.
The bar was closed.
"Shall we break in?" they said.
"Of course," they said.
So they all ran against the door together, till it said _ump!_ and
flew open. The night watchman rushed at them, shouting, and they caught
hold of him, slapped him on the back, and embraced him. Then they went
behind the counter and got out bottles for him and for themselves,
drinking and shouting hurrah for the baby, for Bengt's mother, for the
baby's mother, for the night watchman, for love and for life. When they
had done, they put some banknotes over the night watchman's mouth and tied
a handkerchief over them. Then they went back to the dining room.
The supper was served. Flaten's plate was a red silk bedroom slipper lined
with glass. They ate and drank and rollicked as long as they had the
strength; the hours passed, and dawn approached. Then Flaten began to
distribute souvenirs among them. One got his watch, another his pocketbook
(which was empty), a third his tie pin. After this he went on to his
shoes, giving one to each of two friends, his trousers to another, and his
shirt to still another, till at length he sat there in the nude. Next they
collected quilts from the hotel bedrooms to wrap him up in--red silk
eiderdown quilts. Flaten fell asleep and the other nine watched over him.
He slept for an hour; it was morning then, and they woke him up. He
started up from the quilts, found he was naked, and sent home for some
more clothes. And then the party began all over again....
Later we were discussing Miss Torsen's story; she had forgotten one or two
details which she filled in afterwards.
"Anyhow, it was lucky for the girl with the baby," she said.
"And for the baby itself," I said.
"Yes. But what an idea! Poor old lady, to be told such a tale!"
"Some day perhaps you'll change your mind about that."
"You think so? But it would have been nicer still if I'd got the money
they settled on the child."
"You'll change your mind about that, too."
"Shall I? Why? When?"
"When you yourself have a baby that smiles at you."
"Ugh, how can you say such things!"
She must have misunderstood my meaning, for she was childishly offended.
To restore her to good humor I asked at random:
"What sort of food did you get at the party?"
"Don't know," she replied.
"Don't you know?"
"Good lord, no--I wasn't there," she returned in the greatest amazement.
"Well, no, of course not, I only thought--"
"Oh, so that's it. That's what you thought!" she said, still more
offended. And she clasped her hands as she had done in the summer, and
tore them apart again.
"Really and truly, I do assure you--look here, honestly--I only thought
you were taking a culinary interest. After all, you do learn cooking and
such in the daytime."
"Oh, so you just make conversation with me; you adapt your speech to suit
my narrow outlook!"
A pause.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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