The Red Room, August Strindberg [the mitten read aloud txt] 📗

you wouldn’t believe me, but would deprive me of your friendship?”

“Yes!”

“The world is so full of lies, that nobody will believe a man when he speaks the truth.”

“How can a man believe you, who have no morals?”

“That word again! What an extraordinary word it is! It answers all questions, cuts off all discussions, excuses all failings⁠—one’s own, not those of others⁠—strikes down all adversaries, pleads for or against a cause, just like a lawyer. For the moment you have defeated me with it, next time I shall defeat you. I must be off, I have a lesson at three! Goodbye, good luck!”

And he left Rehnhjelm to his dinner and his reflections.

When Falander arrived home, he put on a dressing-gown and slippers, as if he were expecting no visitors. But he seemed full of an uncontrollable restlessness. He walked up and down the room, stopping every now and then at the window and gazing at the street from behind the curtain. After a while he stopped before the looking-glass, took his collar off and laid it on the sofa table. For a few more minutes he continued his promenade, but suddenly, coming to a standstill before a card-tray, he took up the photograph of a lady, placed it under a strong magnifying glass and examined it as if it were a microscopic slide. He lingered a long time over his examination.

Presently he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs; quickly concealing the photograph in the place from where he had taken it, he jumped up and went and sat at his writing-table, turning his back to the door. He was apparently absorbed in writing when a knocking⁠—two short, gentle raps⁠—broke the silence.

“Come in,” he called, in a voice which was anything but inviting.

A young girl, small but well-proportioned, entered the room. She had a delicate, oval face, surrounded by an aureole of hair which might have been bleached by the sun, for it was of a less pronounced tint than the usual natural blond. The constant play of the small nose and exquisitely cut mouth produced roguish curves which were incessantly changing, like the figures in a kaleidoscope; when, for instance, she moved the wings of her nose, so that the bright red cartilage showed like the leaf of the liverwort, her lips fell apart and disclosed the edges of very small, straight teeth which, although her own, were too white and even to inspire confidence. Her eyes were drawn up at the root of the nose and slanted towards the temples; this gave them a pleading, pathetic expression, which stood in bewitching contrast to the lower, roguish parts of her face; she had restless pupils, small like the point of a needle at one moment, and distended at the next, like the objective of a night-telescope.

On entering the room, she removed the key from the lock and shot the bolt.

Falander remained sitting at his table, writing.

“You are late today, Agnes,” he said.

“Yes, I know,” she replied, defiantly, taking off her hat.

“We were up late last night.”

“Why don’t you get up and say how do you do to me? You can’t be as tired as all that!”

“I beg your pardon, I forgot all about it!”

“You forgot? I have noticed for some time that you’ve been forgetting yourself in many ways.”

“Indeed? Since when have you noticed it?”

“Since when? What do you mean? Please change your dressing-gown and slippers.”

“This is the first time you have found me in them, and you said for some time. Isn’t that funny? Don’t you think it is?”

“You are laughing at me! What’s the matter with you? You’ve been strange for some time.”

“For some time? There you are at it again! Why do you say for some time? Is it because lies have got to be told? Why should it be necessary to tell lies?”

“Are you accusing me of telling lies?”

“Oh! no, I’m only teasing you!”

“Do you think I can’t see that you are tired of me? Do you think I didn’t see last night how attentive you were to that stupid Jenny? You hadn’t a word for me!”

“Do you mean to say you’re jealous?”

“Jealous! No, my dear, not in the least! If you prefer her to me, well and good! I don’t care a toss!”

“Really? You’re not jealous? Under ordinary circumstances this would be an unpleasant fact.”

“Under ordinary circumstances? What do you mean by that?”

“I mean⁠—quite plainly⁠—that I’m tired of you, as you just suggested.”

“It’s a lie! You’re not!”

The wings of her nose trembled, she showed her teeth and stabbed him with the needles.

“Let’s talk of something else,” he said. “What do you think of Rehnhjelm?”

“I like him very much! He’s a dear boy!”

“He’s fallen in love with you!”

“Nonsense!”

“And the worst of it is he wants to marry you!”

“Please spare me these inanities!”

“But as he’s not twenty, he’s going to wait until he’s worthy of you, so he said.”

“The little idiot!”

“By worthy he means when he’s made a name as an actor. And he can’t succeed in that until he’s allowed to play parts. Can’t you manage it for him?”

Agnes blushed, threw herself back on the sofa cushions and exhibited a pair of elegant little boots with gold tassels.

“I? I can’t manage it for myself! You’re making fun of me!”

“Yes, I am!”

“You’re a friend, Gustav, you really are!”

“Perhaps I am, perhaps I’m not. It’s difficult to say. But as a sensible girl.⁠ ⁠…”

“Oh! shut up!”

She took up a keen-edged paper knife and threatened him in fun, but it looked very much as if she were in earnest.

“You are very beautiful today, Agnes,” said Falander.

“Today? Why today? Has it never struck you before?”

“Of course it has!”

“Why are you sighing?”

“Too much drink last night!”

“Let me look at you! What’s the matter with your eyes?”

“No sleep last night, my dear!”

“I’ll go, then you can take a nap.”

“Don’t go! I can’t sleep anyhow!”

“I must be off! I really only came to tell you that.”

Her voice softened; her eyelids dropped slowly, like the curtain after a death scene.

“It was kind of you