Paulsberg shook his head and said to Norem: "Your health, Norem! What nonsense is this I hear, that Grande objects to your company?" "God only knows," says Norem, already half drunk. "Can you imagine why? I have never offended him in my life!" "No; he is beginning to get a little chesty lately." Norem shouted happily: "You hear that? Paulsberg himself says that Grande is getting chesty lately." They all agreed. Paulsberg very seldom said that much; usually he sat, distant and unfathomable, and listened without speaking; he was respected by all. Only Irgens thought he could defy him; he was always ready with his objections. "I cannot see that this is something Paulsberg can decide," he said. They looked at him in surprise. Was that so? So Paulsberg could not decide that? He! he! so that was beyond him? But who, then, could decide it? "Irgens," answered Paulsberg caustically. Irgens looked at him; they gazed fixedly at each other. Mrs. Hanka stepped between them, sat down on a chair, and began to speak to Ojen. "Listen a moment!" she called after a while. "Ojen wants to read his latest--a prose poem." And they settled down to listen. Ojen brought forth his prose poem from an inside pocket; his hands trembled. "I must ask your indulgence," said he. But at this the two young students, the close-cropped poets, laughed loudly, and the one with the compass in his fob said admiringly: "And _you_ ask for _our_ indulgence? What about us, then?" "Quiet!" "The title of this is 'Sentenced to Death,'" said Ojen, and began: For a long time I have wondered: What if my secret guilt were known?... Sh.... Yes, sh.... For then I should be sentenced to death. And I would sit in my prison and know that I should be calm and indifferent when the supreme moment should arrive. I would ascend the steps of the scaffold, I would smile and humbly beg permission to say a word. And then I would speak. I would implore everybody to learn something good from my death. A speech from my inmost heart, and my last farewell should be like a breath of flame.... Now my secret guilt is known. Yes! And I am sentenced to death. And I have languished in prison so long that my spirit is broken. I ascend the steps to the scaffold; but to-day the sun is shining and my eyes fill with tears. For I have languished so long in prison that I am weak. And then the sun is shining so--I haven't seen it for nine months, and I haven't heard the birds sing for nine months--until to-day. I smile in order to hide my tears and I ask humbly if my guards will permit me to speak a word. But they will not permit me.