"Angry? No! But you understand he has now married Lais."
"Married?"
"Yes, and therefore he does not like to be reminded that she was your friend."
"I understand that, but it is not my fault that I was her friend before she knew that the Swede was in existence."
"No, certainly not; but you have gossiped about her."
"I only said what everyone else said, since it was no secret. She herself so boasted of her conquests that they were bound to become public."
"Yes, but the fact is as I say."
The Swede remained in the hotel, and therefore the Norwegian was relegated to solitude. In order to while away the time he made use of the flora of the neighbourhood in order to study the biology of plants. For this purpose he carried about with him on his walks a morphia syringe, intending to see whether the plants were sensitive to this nerve poison. He wished to prove by experiment that they possess a sensitive nervous system.
One afternoon he sat drinking a glass of wine at a garden restaurant on the outskirts of the village. Over his table hung the branches of an apple-tree, laden with small red apples. These were suitable for his purpose. Accordingly, he stood on his chair, made an insertion with the morphia syringe in the twig which bore the apple, but pressed too hard, so that it fell. At that instant he heard a cry and halloo from the wooded slope behind him, and saw an angry man, followed by his wife and child, come rushing towards him with uplifted stick. "There! I have him at last!" he cried.
Him! He was mistaken for an apple stealer for whom they had been watching.