Milde and Gregersen walked down the street together. They talked about Milde's portrait of Paulsberg which had been bought by the National Galleries; about the Actor Norem, who, together with a comrade, had been found drunk in a gutter and had been arrested; about Mrs. Hanka, who was said at last to have left her husband. Was anything else to be expected? Hadn't she endured it for four long years down in that shop? They asked each other for her address; they wanted to congratulate her; she must know that they fully sympathised with her. But none of them knew her address.

They were deeply interested in the situation. It had come to this that Parliament had been dissolved without having said the deciding word, without having said anything, in fact. The Gazette had advised against radical action at the last moment. The paper had talked about the seriousness of assuming responsibilities, about the unwisdom of a straightforward challenge.

"What the devil can we do—with our army and navy?" said Gregersen with deep conviction. "We shall simply have to wait."

They went into the Grand. Ojen was there with his two close-cropped poets.
He was speaking about his latest prose poems: "A Sleeping City,"
"Poppies," "The Tower of Babel." Imagine the Tower of Babel—its
architecture! And with a nervous gesture he drew a spiral in the air.

Paulsberg and his wife arrived; they moved the tables together and formed a circle. Milde stood treat; he still had money left from the first half of the subsidy. Paulsberg attacked Gregersen at once because of the Gazette's change of front. Hadn't he himself, a short time ago, written a rather pointed article in the paper? Had they entirely forgotten that? How could he reconcile this with their present attitude? It would soon be a disgrace for an honest man to see his name in that sheet. Paulsberg was indignant and said so without mincing words.

Gregersen had no defence. He simply answered that the Gazette had fully explained its position, had given reasons….

"What kind of reasons?" Paulsberg would show them how shallow they were.
"Waiter, the Gazette for to-day!"

While they waited for the paper even Milde ventured to say that the reasons were anything but convincing. They consisted of vague vapourings about the easterly boundary, the unpreparedness of the army, even mentioning foreign intervention….

"And fifteen minutes ago you yourself agreed with the Gazette unqualifiedly," said Gregersen.

Paulsberg commenced reading from the Gazette, paragraph after paragraph. He laughed maliciously. Wasn't it great to hear a paper like the Gazette mention the word responsibility? And Paulsberg threw the paper aside in disgust. No; there ought to be at least a trace of honesty in our national life! This sacrifice of principle for the sake of expediency was degrading, to say the least.

Grande and Norem entered, with Coldevin between them. Coldevin was talking. He nodded to the others and finished what he was saying before he paused. The Attorney, this peculiar nonentity, who neither said nor did anything himself, took a wicked pleasure in listening to this uncouth person from the backwoods. He had happened upon Coldevin far up in Thranes Road; he had spoken to him, and Coldevin had said that he was going away soon, perhaps to-morrow. He was going back to Torahus; he was mainly going in order to resign his position; he had accepted a situation farther north. But in that case Grande had insisted that they empty a glass together, and Coldevin had finally come along. They had met Norem outside.

Coldevin, too, spoke about the situation; he accused the young because they had remained silent and accepted this last indignity without a protest. God help us, what kind of a youth was that? Was our youth, then, entirely decadent?

"It looks bad for us again," said Milde in a stage whisper.

Paulsberg smiled.

"You will have to grin and bear it—Let us get toward home, Nikoline. I am not equal to this."

And Paulsberg and his wife left.