“It is wrong. It is wasting his immortal soul. A man has no right to ravel out his life, even though the threads are of gold. A man’s days of personal happiness are forgotten—his work endures. And your husband in particular—why the deuce should HE be so happy? The world-evolution uses us inexorably, either for light or for fuel. And Peer—your husband, dear lady—is too good for fuel.”
Merle glanced again at her husband. Peer laughed, but then suddenly compressed his lips and looked down at his plate.
Then the nurse came in with little Louise, to say good-night, and the child was handed round from one to the other. But when the little fair-haired girl came to Ferdinand Holm, he seemed loth to touch her, and Merle read his glance at Peer as meaning: “Here is another of the bonds you’ve tied yourself up with.”
“Excuse me,” he said suddenly, looking at his watch, “I’m afraid I must ask for the use of the telephone again. Pardon me, Fru Holm.” And he rose and left the room. Klaus looked at the others and shook his head. “That man would simply expire if he couldn’t send a telegram once an hour,” he said with a laugh.
Coffee was served out on the balcony, and the men sat and smoked. It was a dusky twilight of early autumn; the hills were dark blue now and distant; there was a scent of hay and garden flowers. After a while Merle rose and said good-night. And in her thoughts, when she found herself alone in her bedroom, she hardly knew whether to be displeased or not. These strange men were drawing Peer far away from all that had been his chief delight since she had known him. But it was interesting to see how different his manner was towards the two friends. Klaus Brock he could jest and laugh with, but with Ferdinand Holm he seemed always on his guard, ready to assert himself, and whenever he contradicted him it was always with a certain deference.
The great yellow disc of the moon came up over the hills in the east, drawing a broad pillar of gold across the dark water. And the three comrades on the balcony sat watching it for a while in silence.
“So you’re really going to go on idling here?” asked Ferdinand at last, sipping his liqueur.
“Is it me you mean?” asked Peer, bending slightly forward.
“Well, I gather you’re going round here simply being happy from morning to night. I call that idling.”
“Thanks.”