It was the promenade-hour. Irgens proposed that they take the way through the park; they could then hear a little music at the same time. Did she like music?
Aagot was in a dark suit and wore a cape with red silk lining. The snug-fitting garment clung to her body without a wrinkle; around her neck she simply wore a bit of lace. The cape fluttered at times with scarlet silken flashes. She was sorry to say that she was not very musical. She liked to hear music, of course, but she lacked a thorough understanding of it.
"Exactly like myself," answered Irgens. "That is funny; are you like that, too? To tell the truth, I understand music unpardonably poorly, but I show up in the park every day; it would never do to stay away." Much depended upon that; if one did not show oneself and keep abreast of the procession, one would soon be lost, submerged, forgotten.
"Can one be forgotten so easily?" she asked. "But that does not apply to you, surely."
"Oh, yes, to me as well as to the rest," he replied. "Why shouldn't I be forgotten?"
She answered quite simply:
"I thought you were too well known."
"Known? Oh, as to that, Lord help us! I may not be so entirely unknown, of course, but—You must not think it is an easy matter to keep one's head above water here; one friend is envious, another hateful and malicious, a third simply despicable. No; as far as that is concerned—"
"It seems to me, however, that you are known, and well known, too," she said. "We cannot walk two steps that somebody isn't whispering about you; I have noticed it all along." She stopped.
"No, it is unbearable; I just heard another remark! Rather let us go up to the Exhibition at once!"