"No; only there seems to be too much confidence placed in the leaders and in their promises. I come from the country; we have our suspicions; it is hard to get rid of them. The leaders might fail us now as heretofore. Indeed, they might." Coldevin drank from his glass. "I cannot say that I remember their failing us heretofore," said the Attorney. "Do you refer to any particular occasion when the leaders have betrayed us?" "Well, yes. Promises have been broken, promises have been interpreted, promises have been openly and dispassionately denied. We should not forget these things. One should not rely too much on the leaders; the country's youth should be our hope. No; a leader is apt to prove a broken reed. It is an old law that whenever a leader reaches a certain age he pauses--yes, he even turns right about face and pushes the other way. Then it is up to the young to march on, to drive him ahead or trample him down." The door opened and Lars Paulsberg entered. He nodded to the Attorney, who returned his greeting. The Attorney pointed to a chair at his table, but Paulsberg shook his head and said: "No, I am looking for Milde. He has not done a stroke on my picture to-day." "Milde is over in the corner," said the Attorney. And he turned to Coldevin and whispered: "This is one of the most prominent of our young men--their leader, so to speak, Lars Paulsberg. Do you know him? If only the rest were like him." Yes, Coldevin knew his name. So this was Paulsberg? He could plainly see that he was an important personality; people craned their necks, looked after him and whispered. Yes, indeed, we had quite a number of writers, it could not be denied--"There came to Torahus, for instance, one of them before I left; his name was Stefan Ojen. I have read two of his books. He was nervous, he told me; he spoke a good deal about a new school, a new intention within the realm of literature. His clothes were silk lined, but he did not put himself forward much. Of course, people were curious and wanted to see him, but he appeared very modest. I met him one evening; his entire shirt-front was covered with writing, with verses--long and short lines, a poem in prose. He said that he had waked up in the morning and found himself in the throes of an inspiration, and, as he had no paper handy, he simply wrote on his shirt-front. He asked us not to mind it; he had two more shirts with him, but as they were unlaundered he had to use that one for his verses. He read something for us, things full of sentiment. He gave us the impression that he was very clever." The Attorney did not know if this were irony or not, for Coldevin smiled one of his rare smiles. But he was probably serious. "Yes, Ojen is one of our most significant ones," he said. "He is beginning to create a school in Germany. There can be no doubt that his poetry is unique."