It takes time; hours elapse, a seeming eternity;
then the brute begins to stir, to wake up. Wasn't this rather promising?
And Milde thinks it very promising; he has made his peace with Ojen long
ago. Milde is busy on his caricatures to "Norway's Dawn." He had really
drawn a few very funny caricatures and made ruinous fun of the impossible
poem.
Norem said nothing.
Suddenly Lars Paulsberg bobs up; with him is Gregersen. The group is
growing; everybody takes notice; so much is gathered here in a very small
space. Literature is in the ascendant; literature dominates the entire
sidewalk. People turn back in order to get a good look at these six
gentlemen in ulsters and great-coats. Milde also attracts attention; he
has been able to afford an entirely new outfit. He says nothing about
Australia now.
At two the life and traffic has risen to its high-water mark; movement
everywhere, people promenade, drive in carriages, gossip; engines are
breathing stertorously in the far distance. A steamer whistles in the
harbour, another steamer answers with a hoarse blast; flags flutter,
barges swim back and forth; sails rattle aloft and sails are furled.
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