Never had he produced anything so remarkable; it was only a
couple of pages, but....
"No," said Mrs. Hanka, "you must surely have left it behind." And she did
her best to make the poor poet forget his groundless fears. She had been
told that he preferred the city to the country?
He did, most assuredly. No sooner had his eyes beheld the straight lines
of streets and houses than his brain was aquiver, and he had conceived
that Egyptian prose poem. If that had been lost, now....
Milde had lately begun to appreciate Ojen; at last his eyes had been
opened to his poetry's delicate uniqueness. Irgens, who sat close enough
to hear this unusual praise, leaned over to Mrs. Hanka and said in a low
voice:
"You understand? Milde knows he has nothing to fear from his competitor
any more--hence his change of attitude." And Irgens pressed his lips
together and smiled venomously.
Mrs. Hanka glanced at him. How he persisted in his bitterness; how
unbecoming it was in him! He did not realise it, or he would not have thus
compressed his lips and continually shot baleful glances at his fellow
applicants. Otherwise Irgens was silent; he ignored Aagot entirely.
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