An hour passed by. A tower-clock boomed. His train was not due to leave
for another hour. Half an hour went by. He heard somebody on the stairs.
Irgens came first. Coldevin did not stir; he sat motionless with his back
to the door. Then Aagot appeared. Suddenly she cried out loudly. Coldevin
arose and walked away. He had not looked at her nor had he said a word; he
had simply shown himself--he had been on the spot. He swayed like a man in
a stupor. He turned the very first corner, the frozen smile still on his
lips.
Coldevin walked straight down to the railway station. He bought his ticket
and was ready. The doors were thrown open. He walked out to the
train-shed; a porter came after him with his trunk. His trunk? All right;
he had almost forgotten it. Put it in there, in this empty compartment! He
entered after it had been stowed away; then he collapsed utterly. He sat
in the corner; his gaunt, emaciated body shivered convulsively. In a few
moments he took from his pocketbook a tiny silken bow in the Norwegian
colours and began to tear it to pieces. He sat there quietly and plucked
the threads apart. When he had finished he stared at the shreds with a
fixed, vacant stare.
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