Only the pawnbroker was obstinate and stuck to his statement.
"Then it only remains for me to beg this gentleman's pardon for the mistake, and I ask my pupil to do the same."
The latter did so, though unwillingly. There was general satisfaction and a murmured opinion that he had "spoken like a gentleman." The matter was fortunately settled.
"You see," said John to the boy, "the people are open to reason after all!"
"Bah! That was only because they felt flattered at being called gentlemen,—the cursed rabble!"
"Perhaps," answered John, who felt that he had been sufficiently humiliated for such a trifle.
At last they reached Copenhagen. Hungry, freezing, and in the worst of humours they sat in the rain outside the Thorwaldsen Museum, which was closed on account of the festivities. But Albert swore he would get in. After they had waited for an hour with the master chimney-sweep, the public-house keeper, and all the other passengers there came an old man who looked learned and wished to enter. Albert rushed after him, mentioned the name of Molins, the Swedish sculptor, and they got in, leaving the other passengers outside. Albert was delighted, and could not help making a face at the master chimney-sweep who remained outside. But the one who enjoyed it most was the young sinner, who hated the mob.
"Now we are gentlemen," he said.
John was not in the mood to enjoy Thorwaldsen's works. He regarded him as an average artist talented enough to win fame. Albert found the antiques too elaborate, but did not dare to criticise them. They did not witness the royal entry, but sat on the tower of the Fruekirke and looked at the view. At nightfall, when they felt tired and exhausted, they wanted to go down to the steamer to sleep, but it had gone to Malmö. They stood in the street in the rain. They could not go to an hotel, for they had no money. Albert resolved to go to a public-house and ask for a night's lodging. They found a sailors' inn near the public-house. The landlord said it was only for seamen, but they answered that they must have shelter. They were taken into a back room where there were two camp-beds, but a basin was not to be seen. The walls were unpapered and looked shabby. In one of the beds lay a sailor. Who was to be his bed-fellow? Albert undertook that, and slept with the stranger, who was a Dutchman. So they all went to sleep, John cursing the whole adventure, for the bed-clothes were malodorous.
The return voyage home by sea was one long penance. Without provisions and hardly any money they had to sustain life on raw eggs which they bought in the small towns they touched at. These along with stale bread and brandy, composed their diet for three days. Albert alone was cheerful and enjoyed himself. He slept on the poop with the passengers and amused them with stories; he was akin to them, and knew their language. He drank with them and got hot food; he even went into the kitchen sometimes and begged himself a plate of soup. "How easily he takes life!" thought John. "He does not miss luxuries, for he has never known them; he will never be expelled as an intruder when he approaches people; he feasts while others starve, and sees only friends everywhere. But his day will come when he will no longer be one of the lower class, when luxury and refined habits will make him as helpless and unfortunate as me."