mill. But there's no help for it; it's like changing one's teeth; a man

is not grown up until he has had his experience."

"What about the girl?" asked Olle, merely in order to show a polite interest, for his thoughts were elsewhere.

"She's all right in her way, but Falk takes the matter seriously; she does too, apparently, as long as she sees any prospect of winning him; but unless Falk's quick about it, she will grow tired of waiting, and who knows whether she won't amuse herself meanwhile with somebody else? No, you don't understand these things; a man shouldn't hesitate in a love-affair, but grab with both hands; otherwise somebody else will step in and spoil the game. Have you ever been in love, Olle?"

"I had an affair with one of our servants at home; there were consequences, and my father turned me out of the house. Since then I haven't looked at a woman."

"That was nothing very complicated. But to be betrayed, as it is called, that's what hurts, I can tell you! One must have nerves like the strings of a violin to play that game. We shall see what sort of a fight Falk will make; with some men it goes very deep, and that's a pity.

"The door is open, come in Olle! I hope the beds are properly made, so that you will lie softly; but you must excuse my old bed-maker, she cannot shake up the feather-beds; her fingers are weak, don't you see, and the pillow, I'm afraid, may be hard and lumpy."

They had climbed the stairs and were entering the studio.

"It smells damp, as if the servant had aired the room or scrubbed it."

"You are laughing at yourself! There can be no more scrubbing, you have no longer a floor."

"Haven't I? Ah! That makes a difference! But what has become of it? Has it been used for fuel? There's nothing for it then, but to lie down on our mother earth, or rubbish, or whatever it may be."

They lay down in their clothes on the floor-packing, having made a kind of bed for themselves of pieces of canvas and old newspapers, and pushed cases filled with sketches underneath their heads. Olle struck a match, produced a tallow candle from his trousers pocket and put it on the floor beside him. A faint gleam flickered through the huge, bare studio, passionately resisting the volumes of darkness which tried to pour in through the colossal windows.

"It's cold to-night," said Olle, opening a greasy book.

"Cold! Oh no! There are only twenty degrees of frost outside, and thirty in here because we are so high up. What's the time, I wonder?"

"I believe St. John's just struck one."

"St. John's? They have no clock! They are so poor that they had to pawn it."

There was a long pause which was finally broken by Sellen.

"What are you reading, Olle?"

"Never mind!"

"Never mind? Hadn't you better be more civil, seeing that you are my guest?"

"An old cookery book which I borrowed from Ygberg."

"The deuce you did! Do let's read it; I've only had a cup of coffee and three glasses of water to-day."

"What would you like?" asked Olle, turning over the leaves. "Would you like some fish? Do you know what a mayonnaise is?"

"Mayonnaise? No! Read it! It sounds good!"

"Well, listen! No. 139. Mayonnaise: Take some butter, flour, and a pinch of English mustard, and make it into a smooth paste. Beat it up with good stock, and when boiling add the yolks of a few eggs; beat well and let it stand to cool."

"No, thank you; that's not filling enough...."

"Oh, but that's not all. Then take a few spoonfuls of fine salad oil, vinegar, a spoonful of cream, some white pepper--oh, yes, I see now, it's no good. Do you want something more substantial?"

"Try and find toad-in-the-hole. It's my favourite dish."

"I can't go on reading."

"Do!"

"No, leave me alone!"

They were silent. The candle went out and it was quite dark.

"Good-night, Olle; wrap yourself well up, or you'll be cold."

"What with?"

"I don't know. Aren't we having a jolly time?"

"I wonder why one doesn't kill oneself when one is so cold."

"Because it would be wrong. I find it quite interesting to live, if only to see what will come of it all in the end."

"Are your parents alive, Sellen?"

"No; I'm illegitimate. Yours?"

"Yes; but it comes to the same thing."

"You should be more grateful to Providence, Olle; one should always be grateful to Providence--I don't quite know why. But I suppose one should."

Again there was silence. The next time it was Olle who broke it.

"Are you asleep?"

"No; I'm thinking of the statue of Gustavus Adolphus; would you believe me when I...."

"Aren't you cold?"

"Cold? It's quite warm here."

"My right foot is frozen."

"Pull the paint box over you, and tuck the brushes round your sides, then you'll be warmer."

"Do you think anybody in the world is as badly off as we are?"

"Badly off? Do you call us badly off when we have a roof over our heads? Some of the professors at the Academy, men who wear three-cornered hats and swords now, were much worse off than we are. Professor Lundstroem slept during nearly the whole of April in the theatre in the Hop garden. There was style in that! He had the whole of the left stage-box, and he maintains that after one o'clock there wasn't a single stall vacant; there was always a good house in the winter and a bad one in the summer. Good night, I'm going to sleep now."

Sellen snored. But Olle rose and paced the room, up and down, until the dawn broke in the east; then day took pity on him and gave him the peace which night had denied him.