Now the chorus starts in. This is not so bad; the
chorus can pass muster; at least, it does not use such heartrending
gestures. But in the midst of the singing another person strides forth,
and he spoils the whole thing again; ah! it is the Prince; he has a solo--
and when a prince has a solo of course everybody else has to keep still.
But imagine this more or less corpulent masculine person standing there,
bellowing, with legs wide apart! One gets furious; one experiences a
well-nigh irrepressible desire to yell to this fellow to get out, to stop
spoiling the evening for those who wanted to hear some music--hear the
chorus sing!
Irgens was not displeased with himself--he attained his object. Aagot
laughed incessantly and was hugely amused. How he did make things
interesting and give life and colour to the most commonplace!
They finally got to the Exhibition, looked at what there was to see, and
talked about the pictures as they went along. Aagot's questions were fully
answered; Irgens knew everything and even told her anecdotes about the
exhibiting painters. Here, too, they met curious people, who put their
heads together and looked after them when they passed; but Irgens hardly
glanced to the left or right; he seemed entirely indifferent to the
attention accorded him.
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