It was nothing unusual, however, for Old Nick to hoist his flag, especially of late, since Schoolmaster Pedersen opposite had taken to hoisting "clean colours."[1] The first time Old Nick saw this, he at once ordered a huge white sheet with the Union mark in one corner. And every time the "clean colours" were hoisted, up went Old Nick's as well, and his flag being of uncommon dimensions, hid from the seaward side not only the opposition flag, but a good deal of the schoolmaster's house as well.
[1] "Clean Colours"—the Norwegian flag without the Union mark, i.e. as repudiating the Union with Sweden.
At dinner that evening Old Nick did his utmost to make things cheerful, but in vain; Smith was miserable, and miserable he remained.
"You don't know what feeling is, Nickelsen—or else you've forgotten."
"Oh, my dear fellow, I only wish I had a mark for every time I've been in love."
"In love, you! You don't know what it is."
"Yes, my boy, and seriously, too. I'll tell you what happened to me one time at Kongsberg that way. I was clerk to old Lawyer Albrektsen, and lived a gay bachelor life up there. The local chemist was a man named Walter, and had four daughters, one prettier than the others; but the eldest but one was a perfect picture of a girl, bright and cheery, and with a pink-and-white complexion, you never saw. Enough to turn the head of any son of Adam, I assure you. We went for walks and danced together, and were really fond of each other; in a word, the double barrel of our hearts was just on the point of going off—when an event occurred which severed once and for all the tender bonds that were about to unite Petrea Walter and yours truly.
"It was my birthday, the twentieth November, as you know, and I had a few friends coming round in the evening, as usual, to celebrate the occasion. The punch was made in the old style, with Armagnac and acid. Well, we got more and more lively as the evening went on, and one bowl after another was emptied. And then came the disaster; we ran out of acid. Punch without acid was not to be thought of—and there were no such things as lemons in those days. Well, the fellows all voted for going round to the chemist's and ringing him up for more. I tried all I knew to keep them from it, but they couldn't hear a word, and at last off we all went to Master Walter's.
"We lowered down all the oil lamps in the street on our way—this incidentally, as illustrating the distressingly low degree of civilisation in Kongsberg in those days.
"When we got to the place, the first floor was all in darkness. There she lay asleep, up there, my beloved Petrea! All dark and silent everywhere, only a faint gleam from the lamp in the shop below shone out into the street. I begged my friends to keep quiet, while I tried as softly as could be to wake up the man in charge. But alas, fate willed it otherwise. Carl Henrik, my old friend, was by way of being a poet, and never lost a chance of improvising something. He stood up on the steps 'to make a speech,' but just as he was going to begin, the door opened, and there was old Walter himself in dressing-gown and slippers, with a candle in his hand. Carl Henrik made an elegant bow, and reeled off at once: