"And so Olle has gone to happier hunting-grounds," said Sellén. "He's well off, need no longer trouble about his dinner. I wonder what the head-waiter at the 'Brass-Button' will say to it? Olle owed him a little money."
"What heartlessness! What brutality! Shame on you!" burst out Falk, throwing a few coins on the table, and putting on his overcoat.
"Are you sentimental?" scoffed Sellén.
"Yes, I am! Good night."
And he had gone.
CHAPTER XXIX
REVUE
Licentiate Borg at Stockholm to the Landscape Painter Sellén at Paris
Dear Sellén,—You have waited a whole year for a letter from me; now I have news to tell you. If I were acting on my principles, I should begin with myself; but as I had better conform to the rules of politeness laid down by civilized society—seeing that I am about to go out into the world to earn my own living—I will begin with you.
I heartily congratulate you on the success of your recently exhibited picture. Isaac took the notice to the Grey Bonnet, and it was printed without the knowledge of the editor, who was furious when he read it; he had firmly made up his mind that you should be a failure. But now that your genius has been acknowledged abroad, you are famous at home too, and I need no longer be ashamed of you.