"Come in! Yes, only come right in! As you see everything is of ruby-- Ylajali, Ylajali! that swelling crimson silken divan! Ah, how passionately she breathes. Kiss me--loved one--more--more! Your arms are like pale amber, your mouth blushes.... Waiter I asked for a plate of beef!"
The sun gleamed in through the window, and I could hear the horses below chewing oats. I sat and mumbled over my chip gaily, glad at heart as a child.
I kept all the time feeling for my manuscript. It wasn't really in my thoughts, but instinct told me it was there--'twas in my blood to remember it, and I took it out.
It had got wet, and I spread it out in the sun to dry; then I took to wandering up and down the room. How depressing everything looked! Small scraps of tin shavings were trodden into the floor; there was not a chair to sit upon, not even a nail in the bare walls. Everything had been brought to my "Uncle's," and consumed. A few sheets of paper lying on the table, covered with thick dust, were my sole possession; the old green blanket on the bed was lent to me by Hans Pauli some months ago.... Hans Pauli! I snap my fingers. Hans Pauli Pettersen shall help me! He would certainly be very angry that I had not appealed to him at once. I put on my hat in haste, gather up the manuscript, thrust it into my pocket, and hurry downstairs.
"Listen, Jens Olaj!" I called into the stable, "I am nearly certain I can help you in the afternoon."
Arrived at the Town Hall I saw that it was past eleven, and I determined on going to the editor at once. I stopped outside the office door to see if my sheets were paged rightly, smoothed them carefully out, put them back in my pocket, and knocked. My heart beat audibly as I entered.
"Scissors" is there as usual. I inquire timorously for the editor. No answer. The man sits and probes for minor items of news amongst the provincial papers.
I repeat my question, and advance a little farther.
"The editor has not come yet!" said "Scissors" at length, without looking up.
How soon would he come?