"Perhaps you haven't followed matters very closely; you have just arrived, I understand," said Mrs. Paulsberg amiably. "Followed matters closely! I should say he has; don't you worry about that!" cried the Attorney. "I have talked with him before." The discussion grew violent. Milde and the Journalist simultaneously demanded the dismissal of the cabinet; others expressed their opinion about the Swedish opera they had just attended; it appeared that not one among them understood music in the least, and they strayed back to politics. "So you were not seriously shaken by what occurred to-day, Mr. Coldevin?" asked Paulsberg in order to be friendly, too. "I am ashamed to confess that I have sat at home and cursed all afternoon!" "Indeed!" answered Coldevin. "Don't you hear that Paulsberg asked if you were shaken?" said the Journalist sharply across the table. Coldevin murmured: "Shaken? One can, of course, not avoid feeling disappointed when such things happen. But the climax to-day was hardly unexpected by me. As I see it, it was only a last rite." "Oh, you are a pessimist." "Indeed, no, you are mistaken. I am not that." Beer and sandwiches were served, afterward coffee. Coldevin glanced at those present; he met Aagot's eyes looking at him very gently, and this agitated him so that he suddenly spoke out loudly what was on his mind: "Did this decision to-day surprise you so very much, then?" And when he received a qualified affirmation he continued, in order to make himself understood: "To me it appears to be entirely in harmony with conditions otherwise prevailing.--People are saying to themselves: 'We have our liberty; the constitution guarantees it, and now we want to enjoy it for a while!' Behold--the sons of Norway have become freemen and the peers of anybody." Everybody agreed with him. Paulsberg nodded; this phenomenon from the country might not be entirely impossible, after all. But he would say no more; he preserved an obstinate silence. At last the Attorney got him started again; he asked: "When I met you at the Grand recently you insisted that it was wrong ever to forget, ever to forgive. Is that a principle, or how--"