His eyes were not
so clear, his mouth was drawn and his nostrils dilated. But it was only a
shuddering thought.
Then he added: "You might do me the favour to try to interest Gregersen in
my book, and see if he won't review it in the _Gazette_." And as he
noticed that she grew more and more thoughtful, that she even looked
interrogatingly straight into his eyes, he added: "Of course, you need not
ask him directly--only give him a little hint, a reminder."
Could this be Irgens? But she remembered at once his painful position,
alone as he was, fighting a conspiracy single-handed; and she excused him.
She ought to have thought of giving Gregersen a little hint herself and
spared her Poet this humiliation. Yes, she certainly would speak to
Gregersen at once.
And Irgens thanked her; his bitterness vanished slowly. They sat silently
on the sofa some time; then she said:
"Listen! An awful thing happened with that red tie of yours--you remember
the one I took from you once? He saw it!"
"How could you be so careless? What did he say?"
"Nothing; he never says anything. It fell out as I opened my dress. Well,
don't let that worry you; it doesn't matter.
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