“What d'you give for those you've got on?”
“I can't remember, but it was nothing very much. Couldn't say exactly what it was.”
Grindhusen looks at me in astonishment and bursts out laughing.
“What? Can't remember what you paid for them?”
Then he turns serious, shakes his head, and says: “No, I dare say you wouldn't. No. That's the way when you've money enough and beyond.”
Old Gunhild comes out from the house, and seeing us standing there by the chopping-block wasting time in idle talk, she tells Grindhusen he'd better start on the painting.
“So you've turned painter now?” said I.
Grindhusen made no answer, and I saw I had said a thing that should not have been said in others' hearing.