"You have then not the slightest understanding of my new intentions," said
the poor fellow, trembling with excitement. "But, then, you are a brute,
Milde; one could not expect intelligent appreciation from you."
Only now did the fat painter realise how much he had offended; he had
hardly expected this when he spoke.
"A brute?" he answered good-naturedly. "It seems we are beginning to
express ourselves very plainly. I did not mean to insult you, anyway.
Don't you think I enjoyed the poem? I did, I tell you; enjoyed it
immensely. I only thought it a little disembodied, so to speak, somewhat
ethereal. Understand me correctly: it is very beautiful, exceedingly
artistic, one of the best things you have produced yet. Can't you take a
joke any more?"
But it was of no avail that Milde tried to smooth things over; the
seriousness of the moment had gone, they laughed and shouted more than
ever, and cut loose in earnest. Norem opened one of the windows and sang
to the street below.
To mend matters a little and make Ojen feel better, Mrs. Hanka placed her
hand on his shoulder and promised to come and see him off when he started
on his trip.
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